manica

Manica is the name i'll give my child... not as a first name, as a second name... it's a name. Out of all the places I have been to in my life, there has never been a place where just as I pronounce the word I feel like I'm about to meet someone. That someone might just be my first little girl. She will inherit a second name that will make my mother and her big sister prouder than ever. She can do anything but with a name like that, they'll forgive them forever. With this, my good deeds in life will be done with! ;)

We arrived in this little telenovela lookalike town on my sister's birthday, the moment I saw that sign "MANICA" I knew it was the moment to say "happy birthday" to someone who'd understand why I'd have pick that spot. I was about to enter the real childhood of my mommy. Actually my mother did not spend her chldhood here, it was more her teenagehood, she went away to Boardingschool in Vila Pery, now known as Chimoio (which has already been chosen as our second child's second name if it's a boy... Umbeluzi just doesn't do it for us!), where she was VERY well behaved............ NOT!!!! while her parents lived in Manica. Not bad for spending your school holidays and ocasionally weekends, huh?
Was it fun waking up to this beautiful mountains and hills? Do you realize you simply forgot to tell me there were mountains in Mozambique? Africa? You always let me believe that you lived in places called "mato" in the sense lions were your pets, and elephants ate in your back garden... ok, you never told me that, but when you and Titi told me that you lived in places where you didn't even wear shoes, I presumed that meant you were part of the Tarzan and Mogli family...
no?
...hmmm... let me reprogramme my mind... ok, so I imagine that the pool you swam in on weekends wasn't a pond, huh? yes... I know, it was this huge Olympic pool... clean as you'd never imagined after 30 years, but still humangous. This was where you flirted with the town boys? This is where Titi gave her first kiss? I bet grandpa Mateus was happy for that, as he watched from his designed and contructed (yup, no architects in the family just wannabes!!) MANICA LODGE (known as MOINHOS back then) office window. I was very proud to see that whoever took it in charge, took care of it very well, the little windmill suites don't have their white sails anymore, but they look very cute, and in a country where Zimbabueians (??) are conquering all the hotels and lodges by storm, it was very conforting to know these people are keeping it comfy and cute, just like I'd imagine grandpa would.

I can't get over these mountains... was it always like this? Are you really sure mom this is the same Manica you lived in????? It's so wierd!!!

Oh... there's a monkey crossing the road!!!!!! aaaaahhhhhhhh ok, NOW, this is where you lived! uffa... I thought i'd have to give my child another name!

By the way, did I tell you my aunt had her 1rst comunion in this beautiful church (someone told me it was a cathedral... hmmm), abandoned... but on a hill. With a "via sacra", imitating the ones in Braga, really I'm not bragging, it was really like that, where you can see the whole town and almost a peek of Zimbabué...

and I thought this country wouldn't surprise me.
from city, to beach, to desert, to sweaty weather, to beach again, to smaller cities, to hills and to mountains... from total deserted places to green as nature should.

Manica touched me like any other place, in it's own particular way. Simply simple. The people I was in contact with weren't what I'd say, hospitable... actually I don't need to be nice, he wasn't at all the type of person I'b ever be around to, but my grandpa was his father's friend, really good friends, and of course I thought he would sit down with me and let me know everything I should about life back then. Well... to him, it had no importance what so ever... he showed the houses my family lived in, showed that church, showed the pool, showed the post office (?)... but from his car, driving at 200km/h, yelling at anyone who crossed our path, called people by their color, was rude, agressive, and surprisingly enough thought of himself as the king of Manica.
This I make a point to tell you because to me one of the saddest things I noticed in Mozambique, a lot of people who stayed after the independence, which I think is very honorable, believing in their state as a Mozanbican, now are most of it BOSSES, they just boss anyone around. All in the name of trying to impress. They didn't understand when I offered to washed my clothes by hand in a basin, he ordered the others to do it for me. I couldn't wait in line, because they'd make me pass in front of everyone, and couldn't understand when I'd refuse to.
"you're not very used to this are you?" they'd asked... well, not really and I'm in no hurry or in no place to be better or first than anyone... and it DOESN'T IMPRESS ME!

And to think so many people stayed to change the country from colonialism, and now, look where some are, doing eaxctly the same thing and even worse, not even looking around you. Of course probably for him he can afford to be like this because Manica is a tiny town... I guess you'd lower your little balls if you had to share!

Anyway... here in this green garden I saw a little bit of what people can really be in their worse, and apologizing to my mother, I told her that Manica dissapointed me. But I guess the people don't make the places, maybe places make people...

But then again, my grandparents lived there and were happy there for many years...
which makes me sure that because of that, my little girl will have MANICA in her name.
...will you still be her godmother?