From bucket-list to war-zone.
Behind the scenes in a forgotten corner of Northern Mozambique.
Northern Mozambique was a honeymoon haven; the beautiful destination and heartfelt service was a catalyst for the local economy. Now, it’s a war-zone, preventing the recovery from an unprecedented cyclone and plunging hundreds of thousands back into the extremity of poverty. While the world looks away, thousands are fleeing from beheadings, rape, kidnappings and starvation.
This is the story of the bartenders, chefs and sleepy security guards, our colleagues for 17 years, who are now living in the cross hairs of the climate emergency and a war driven by growing poverty. This is inequality at its ugliest.
Far off the beaten track, Guludo attracted the type of guests you’d love to have round your dinner table. They came to dive remote reefs, explore tropical islands, relax on “one of the best deserted beaches in the world” and soak up local culture. Proximity to our local community was more than geographic, it was Guludo’s beating heart. By 2017 it had an exclusively local team who created authentic experiences, which opened a window into life in this beautifully crazy part of the world, while serving quirky cocktails and sharing horizon-widening stories of local traditions, legends and myths of years gone by.
When we arrived in 2002, the region was extremely poor, Level 1, rock bottom poor. It had been cut off for decades; literacy and mortality rates were among the worst in the world. Slowly over time, bigger homes sprung up, shops emerged, schools filled, safe drinking water flowed, new crops grew, markets buzzed, pregnancies were planned. This remote region had “Nema”, a local word meaning the joy felt when suffering ends.
But, just before dawn, two years ago, a group of youths armed with machetes, attacked a neighbouring village. Quissirua, our operations manager, grabbed his 3 youngest children and fled with his wife and neighbours into the bush, not knowing the fate of his other children or mother (with dementia). 165 homes were burnt. 7 people were killed. 27 years of peace, after a brutal civil war, had ended.
A year later, Cyclone Kenneth struck.
The eye of the storm tore through Guludo. In those few short minutes, that must have felt like a lifetime, 17 years of work was razed to the ground. The lodge, gone, schools, gone, homes, gone, clinics, gone, livelihoods, gone… With no history of cyclones, no one was prepared for Kenneth; the strongest cyclone to ever hit Africa’s east coast. Communities who contributed least to the climate crisis, were now suffering the most.
The aftermath of Kenneth was brutal. Well known aid agencies swarmed hotels in Pemba yet for weeks only helicopters buzz overhead as families desperately searched for coconuts to feed their children and the death toll rose. International “help” was paralysed by bureaucracy and fear of insurgents. Thankfully, the Pemba community and countless past guests rallied to raise funds and we managed to deliver food and supplies by boat and later repaired schools, clinics and homes but it wasn’t enough.
Meanwhile, the violence was escalating.
Troops flooded administrative hubs, although too scared to respond to attacks just a few km away. Russian mercenaries came and went, successfully managing to up the ante. Attacks became bolder and more sophisticated. Now, each of our 16 local villages have been attacked, 2 of the 11 rebuilt schools were damaged. Attacks have ebbed and flowed but the horror of the situation steadily grows.
Last month 11 girls were abducted during an attack on the small village of Manica, including 18 year old Ziana Bacar with a 6 week old baby girl, Ancha. Raped and beaten, Ziana and her two sisters managed to escape from this small insurgent group (who had little resources or food). She’s now reunited with her baby and viewed as one of the lucky ones.
Almost every one of the 60,000 people in our administrative hub of Mucojo have run for their lives or been displaced at some point. Most people sleep outside, for easy access to escape or simply because their home has been destroyed. The schools are closed. The clinics are closed. The administrators are long gone. With another cholera outbreak, no access to malaria treatments or HIV retrovirals, COVID-19 is far from a priority. Soldiers demand money, beat and arrest indiscriminately, leading people to question whether they’d be safer in insurgent-controlled villages.
“We are furious with the insurgents, we can’t sympathise with their brutality. But we are now more scared of the security forces than them, especially those in Macomia; they kill before asking questions. There are lots of soldiers in Mucujo and Pangane, but Alshababa have had control of the zone between Nakatuku and Quitirajo for months.”
“Everyone is hungry and scared. We sleep together with our children, often in the bush, and always with our clothes on, ready to run. We don’t know what is coming next.”
The communities feel abandoned,
and the poverty is becoming more and more desperate. Many fled to neighbouring islands but have since returned, “There were no conditions to live there — no shelter, no food. Here, we can try to grow food.”
Now, over 1,000 people have been killed, 250,000 displaced, 700,000 affected, yet,
“The world still has no idea what is happening, because of indifference
and because it seems that we have already become accustomed to wars.
There is war in Iraq, there is war in Syria and there is also
now a war in Mozambique,”
says Pemba Bishop Luiz Fernando Lisboa
The beginning.
In 2009, the seismic surveys started and the dolphins disappeared. Now, Northern Mozambique is home to Africa’s three largest liquid natural gas (LNG) projects with investments totalling over $60bn. Thousands of families have been displaced by the gas project. The promises of jobs and shared wealth were hollow; prosperity remains with the elite.
Islamic militants attract young recruits in this muslim region who become trapped. Locals say many of the initial attacks in Mucojo were in retaliation for youths fleeing the insurgents. Fofoca (gossip) is rife around who, beyond the ISIS ideology, are funding the insurgents; smugglers (including the newly formed heroine trade route), security companies…?
The international community is starting to take sides,
creating mounting pressure to use mercenaries. But this will not end the war, nor provide a solution for Mozambicans. There is a very real fear that the violence will spread further. Yet, equally terrifying is the increasing possibility this war will lead to mercenaries protecting a handful of strategic positions while “draining the swamp” to capture the terrorists. The collateral damage being the most vulnerable communities. There are no winners.
Last week, after a 5 day battle, the insurgents claimed the upgraded port of Mocimboa de Praia, critical for the gas sites. Dyck Advisory Group, a South African-based security firm, were unable to intervene effectively. Each side claims to have killed over 55 people and the Pemba hospital is overflowing with casualties.
Hope.
The only long term solution to halt the suffering and atrocious human-rights abuses (on both sides) is to regain the trust of the communities in Cabo Delgado. To help the thousands living in the bush to get to safety. To help families meet their basic human needs; water, shelter, food and safety. To help children and young people continue to study. To have access to lifesaving drugs and healthcare. To show families the love and support we would hope to receive ourselves.
International attention was thin and short-lived after Kenneth. Now, the only support comes via our small charity (with some support from IOM)*; it’s a drop in the ocean but, nonetheless, a small glimmer of hope where there is so little.
It seems Mozambican black lives don’t matter enough. We can only hope and pray this changes quickly and the international community rises up in solidarity for the families of the waiters, housekeepers and sleepy security guards who cared so lovingly for the visiting families and honeymooners for so many years.
Support our work with communities in Northern Mozambique please go to Nema Foundation.
