Refuge

       For the past 2 months I have been developing an income-generating project here in Alto Molocue. Our idea is that families in a nearby community will sell goat milk as an additional source of income for them and a nutrition supplement for the community. I have been working with two families to prepare them for arrival of 8 goats of a variety that has high milk production. This past week the families actually received the goats so I have been spending a lot of time in the community of Caiaia about 5 miles outside of town. On Tuesday I was walking down a windy dirt path, which had been further cut by the recent rains, not unlike any other dirt path in the area. The farmer I was walking with began to tell me about the history of the area, not a normal topic of conversation.

       Soon after fighting for and winning independence in 1975, Mozambique fell into civil war. The population divided between 2 political parties, one socialist-backed and the other capitalist-backed. I have yet to know an area of this country that did not directly experience the war. Guerilla tactics were the norm as were village raids. People scattered. The war intensified in the mid- to late-80’s and in 1992 a peace agreement was signed. The FRELIMO party has held the presidency ever since. It’s hard to imagine this country in war; Mozambicans want nothing to do with violence. As testament to this, I have yet to hear tell of a bar fight in my years here except one involving a few Peace Corps Volunteers and a pool cue. However, every person of my age or older has memories of the war and the strife it brought.

       The dirt path was surrounded on both sides with a mixture of trees, shrubs and grasses. Nothing besides being on the top of a big hill made it unique. The farmer began telling me how during the war this very area was where people took refuge having fled their villages or in transit from other areas. The bush was filled with families, soldiers, and elderly and surrounded by a rough system of local guards who managed to keep the war out. For 7 years people lived here and died here. It is impossible to imagine the struggle and pain that must have saturated this area, now sparsely populated. There are cemeteries in there, he continued to tell me, people arrived wounded or fell ill with no possible medical attention. These were the victims of the war. They had no choice in the matter; the war invaded their lives and moved them about.  Though the area now looks like any other I am certain that at the time the refuge did not feel like a war zone; a strong community held it together.  Mozambicans are amazing like that.