Last night we enjoyed a final island dinner of shima, fish, and vegetable curry. It was so delicious and half of our group was totally impressed by our shima-eating skills (aka using our hands). Then, a young guy who works at the place we're staying at and who had escorted us to the restaurant, took us to a discoteca- basically a village dance bar. There was really loud music and flashing disco lights and NO people. We went to grab beers and then they closed the door and said we had to pay to get in.....to an empty dance floor. So silly. Instead we all sat for a bit before walking back to our lodge down the dark, sandy streets with a twinkling sky stretched above us.
This morning we woke up with the call to prayer at 4:30. The sound of the call was like a distant hum echoing in the nearby village. As we shuffled down to the port in the early dawn, the island was hauntingly quiet; the silence only broken by the lapping waves. Approaching the dock, we found it completely deserted. We looked at each other with anxiety in our eyes. The boats only leave at high tide, so if we missed the first one, we wouldn't be able to leave until the evening one thereby putting us on the other side after dark. Thankfully we asked someone, and he said we were just an hour early. Relieved, we soaked up the brilliant sunrise over a cluster of boats in the harbor and the tips of coconut trees in the distance on the island.
Then began the "fun." A boat approached the dock and people slowly began to appear; coming from the still shadow-y streets like ghosts. The conductors started to load crates of empty beer bottles and other bags into the boat. Over the next 45 minutes, we packed a whole bunch of people and things (including a motorcycle) into the boat so much so that the boat tapped the ocean floor a few times. Now we're on our way across back to mainland Mozambique-moving slowly as ever-but at least we're on our way. Let the journey back to Malawi begin!
