Our camp at Namuli's house
The afternoon of our first trekking day was falling when Ophir and I planted the two small tents on the small land of the Namuli family. He was absent and it was his wife who had invited us to spend the night there.
From the different terraces where the rest of the houses of the village settled, the curious looks were directed at us. Not only children, who were much more brazen, but also adults, wondered where did those whites with a backpack and beard come from (although Dulce did not wear one).
Once the tents were planted, we drank water as if there was no tomorrow and dropped on the grass. The children surrounded us, although they left only with Dulce when she started taking pictures with her Canon EOS. Argentina showed them the photographs she had just taken and the children's faces lit up when she recognized herself on that small LCD screen. The initial astonishment became a laugh in less than a second. They put their hands to their mouths and beat their friends nervously, as if telling them: “Look! It's me! ... It's us! ”
These people are not used to white visits. You may see some passing through the year, because the Lonely Planet guide mentions the existence of this trekking - although it does not give many clues about the itinerary - but, in reality, there are very few tourists or travelers who venture to tour this magnificent country called Mozambique.
Grinding cassava to make flour
The adults tried to continue with their daily chores. The women appeared out of nowhere carrying a kind of stone cube and large wooden sticks of cylindrical shape. They were going to grind cassava.
Cassava is a tuber, a species of cassava or cassava that becomes a rough trunk similar to bamboo. The plant can survive fires, droughts or pests and is considered a source of food and vital energy for all populations of sub-Saharan Africa. The way to consume it is also varied. You can peel, take out the root and fry it, but you can also grind it to get cassava flour.
The women showed a unique skill and strength by lifting the stick and dropping it to rhythmic strokes that included a slight twist of the wrist at each onslaught. They looked at us amused when they realized that we didn't stop taking pictures of the operation. The schoolboy also formed a circle around him that kept laughing and pulling when Dulce was encouraged to try to participate in the grinding process.
After a while we got some peace and we went into the store looking for some privacy to comment on the play.
The entrance of the house of our hosts