Cahora Bassa: A Nossa Energia

A tiger fish swims into a concrete wall. "Dam!" he cries.

In this case, it's Cahora Bassa, Southern Africa's biggest dam. Built by the Portuguese during the colonial period on the Zambezi river upstream of Tete City, in a quaint town called Songo, Cahora Bassa supplies power for not only Mozambique, but Zimbabwe and South Africa as well. It's kind of a Big Deal around these parts; our neighbors proudly proclaim themselves 'os donos da energía', owners of the energy, and whenever the power goes out, there's a communal wail of "Oh, Cahora Bassa!" as if to ask how it could have failed its loyal donos so. The artificial lake created by the dam is home to millions of crocodiles, hippos, birds, and fish, including the famous tiger fish, and this ecosystem is just about Tete's only tourist attraction.

Considering all that, it's ridiculous that it took me almost two years to make it out there. In my defense, I hate traveling alone, and no one wanted to come visit Tete for the longest time (being scared off by its exaggerated reputation for being a hot, dusty expanse of nothingness). So I took advantage of the few extra days we had after our Zimbabwe trip before school started again to drag my friends to the lake with me.

The jankiest bus ever.

Getting there was one of the rougher travel experiences I've had in Mozambique.We didn't start off so well, with a 7 a.m. bus breakdown just 5 km from my house on the way to Tete City. When we finally did get to Tete City, we found out that the chapa we needed to take had stopped running for the day. Well, shoot. So negotiated with chapa driver to rent out his chapa and take us straight to our lodge. He saw the name and address of the lodge and he said "Oh yes. The lodge. I know it." We agreed on a price and set off. So easy, right? HA.

He ended up going the wrong way, even though we shouted the whole way "You're going the wrong way!" while he shouted back "No, I'm not! You muzungus don't know what you're talking about!" Turns out he thought "The Lodge" was the name of one specific place and not a generic name for one of many different places. When he finally realized his mistake, and realized that the price he was asking was definitely too low for where we were going, he threw a tantrum. We sat there and told him, you set this price and you told us you knew where it was. It's not our fault you screwed up. Realizing that he was clearly in the wrong, he stepped up and did the right thing: He abandoned us in the middle of nowhere and went home.

At least he dropped us at an elephant crossing.

Thankfully, the he left us at the outskirts of a beautiful little village, from which we were able to phone the lodge to come rescue us. While we waited, we made friends with some of the village kids. We must have been a sight to see, because at one point, an old man came up and asked us "Er... everyone wants to know what on earth you're doing here?" We told him our story, and he cursed the chapa driver and sat with us for a while. Shortly, the minivan came and whisked us away to the lodge.

We didn't stress about a single thing for the next three days. The lodge owners, Gail and Zane, were so accommodating and generous. Our rondável (round cabin) was absolutely perfect, with a full kitchen and enough beds for all six of us. We dropped off our stuff, and immediately went to the pool and stayed there. The next two days were filled with rest and relaxation, much needed after our whirlwind tour of Zimbabwe and awful travel experience. Zane was nice enough to take us out on his boat and even let us ride the jetski!

Cannonball!

Cahora Bassa lake, from Zane's boat.

Jet-skis are FUN.

.... and then we broke the jetski. Beware of crocs!

We had a wonderful time at Moringa Bay. The lake was beautiful, and  I've always been partial to lakes as opposed to the ocean. The people I was with were all good friends, and we had a great time. Lots of swimming, hot sun, cold drinks, relaxation, and silliness. Three days later, we were very sad to leave, but the third trimester was calling.

The ride home was awful. We got a ride in an openback truck so full that two of us had to sit on top of the cab. When we thought it couldn't get worse, we stopped fill the back with two dozen sacks of dried, salted fish that smelled to high heavens. Gross.

But when I think about Cahora Bassa, I won't think about the crazy chapa driver, or the fishy ride home.  I'll think of this:

Perfection.