Henk is up the wave and in the glass…

I laugh as the next wave crashes down on my head, on my shoulders and in my eyes. With a quick but gracious gesture of my head, the long manes that have grown on my scalp are removed from my eyes. Must be an impressive sight for the people on the beach, I recon while spitting out a gush of salt water. With another move filled with the grace that’s unmistakably mine, I slide on the wonder of hydrodynamics that you’d normally call a surfboard and start paddling through the clear-blue water of the ocean that is becoming my new mistress, seducing me with her waves of which I see one coming just now. I try to pick up speed, considering my athletic body not a hard feat, and feel the board, with me still on it, being lifted and now guided by the wave. The sudden speed is electrifying, my vision tunnels and the only thing I see is the tip of my board and the all consuming blue of the water around me. For a moment, there is nothing but exhilaration, the urge to stand up and balance and this overwhelming joy that, for a while, I thought I had lost forever. Nothing matters, everything is fine, the adrenaline is drug-like and for a moment I don’t even miss the only men I consider my equals, my friends and compadres, my brothers in arms, my Marten and Minne.

See, I’m in Mozambique and Marten and Minne are not. Neither is Doutzen or Noflik. They are still in Malawi. Marten moves from Lilongwe to Monkey bay, working for food and accommodation while Minne sells his skills as the internet smartass he is. In Holland we already recognized his abilities, but being able to create a half decent webpage in these parts of the world immediately earns you the title Guru. A just title, according to Minne. Noflik, by now, is recovering from giving birth to seven surprisingly handsome dogs and Doutzen… Yeah well. Let’s say that even if Marten and Minne wanted to follow me south, our four wheeled patron saint of transportation would simply deny those wishes. First, our mechanical heroes will have to fix some flaws in the engine of our car.

Thus, I find myself in Tofo, Mozambique all by myself. I was not devastated when told to leave Fat Monkeys in Malawi, for my foreseeing mind simply foresaw that my time in these lovely surroundings had come to an end anyway. However, a friendly guest told me that he could ‘hook me up’ with the well renown hostel Fatima’s Nest in Mozambique, owned by the infamous Fatima.

Two days later I find myself successfully hitchhiking 1000 kilometers towards the incredible paradise Tofo, which is nothing more than the beach of Inhambane, a laid back little town, abundant in colorful Portuguese colonial styled buildings, Portuguese banter, loads of cashew nuts and a ferry to somewhere on the other side of the agonizing pretty lagoon on which it is situated. Whoa! Now that’s a way to describe town, isn’t it? Did I also mention the presence of an awesome set of waves every now and then, attracting surf heroes from around the world? Hence my sudden passion for this intoxicating sport, primarily caused by two brothers living in a abandoned villa, which they fittingly baptized ‘Villa Incognito’. The building holds nothing but a ravished cupboard and a mosquito net or two, but they don’t care as long as they can surf. And drink Tipo Tinto. And take the boat out every now and then. We are very much alike. Alright, they’re slightly better surfers than I am. Just slightly.

But Henk, I thought you guys were volunteering..?
Yes indeed, the charity thing is on hold for a bit. We’re broke and need to maintain ourselves and thus, lack the time to knock on another door belonging to an NGO, hospital or other beneficial organization. We have to make a living and try to save up the smallest amount of money, that’ll have to sustain us through that big event in South Africa. If you haven’t got a clue as to what this big event might by, I’ll give you a hint; it’s the bloody World Cup! And we, in our orange van will drive around and make loads of money by selling coffee to the caffeine deprived Dutch, permitting us some more kilometers in our quest to re-explore Africa and infuse it with our signature and valuable ‘umph’.

There were more worthwhile stories an incredible adventures that I wanted to share with you here, but the TipoTinto is starting to take its toll. What’s the time? I just remembered, so many waves to climb, bottles to be conquered and beaches to impressed with my newly acquired skills

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Tags: hitchhiking, Inhambane, Mozambique, surfing, tofo