Maputo Mozambique 2012

Maputo Mozambique 2012 - 2014

Maputo Mozambique 2012 - 2014

When I went to Maputo in 2012 I was a typical white South African but the time there opened my eyes to the reality of life, making me realize that we are truly complaining with not bread under the arm, but cakes in both our hands.

We do not know what it is to live in a country recovering from war, a country where a shack sits next to a palace, a country where everything can be bought at a price, and most things have to be imported.
I got to understand the taxis with overloaded trailers crossing the border (I did not approve of some of the methods of obtaining the the stuff, but I understood).
I got to understood the reason for the hundreds and hundreds of water containers on those trailers.
I got to know people with nothing, trying to make something of their lives - not waiting for hand-outs!
I got to know what it is to be alone (my family was not there all the time).

I am going to post a lot of what I experienced on my blog, so do not try and look for chronology in the posts, some will follow each other, some will not.

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Every day you are beaten

I came across this post from Bryan Ward this morning: Every day you are beaten : Beaten by the leaky sink you keep avoiding. Beaten by the applesauce on the wall you keep not scrubbing off. Beaten by the dent in the drywall you keep putting off fixing. You long to conquer mountains, yet every day you are beaten by molehills. All these little problems… they should be so easily solved. Yet they go on defeating you, day after day, until at last you conclude that you are not a capable man: If you are this easily defeated, “surely” you do not have what it takes to win the bigger fights: to become your fittest self, to create a business empire, to create works of art that will outlast you. Hell, you can’t even fix a leaky sink: might as well f*** off and go watch TV. But you’ve misdiagnosed the problem entirely. … One summer day when I went into the workshop, I saw that the plastic gas cans by the tractor were bulging like balloons. I had left the vents closed, and the hea...

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The heresy of worshiptainment | Mike Livingstone

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From my heart

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