Last year around Christmas time I was traveling in Central Mozambique in a northbound direction, attempting to reach Mozambique Island before the holidays. I was visiting a small port city called Quelimane when something unimaginable happened. My bag containing all my ID's, credit and debit cards, cash, cell phone, netbook computer and camera was snatched from my side in the early morning hours of December 21, 2015 at a bus stop outside the city market. I was penniless and had no ID for two weeks in a Portuguese-speaking country in Africa.
Prior to the robbery, my journey through Mozambique was not much different from my other trips through developing countries with poorly maintained roads. I was staying in run-down hotels and travelling in crowded buses that were considered to be luxurious by locals. Moreover, I was still pretty much in control of my travel options. For the lack of a better way to describe my experience in those two weeks subsequent to the incident, I would say that I went through dramatic spiritual transformations. My outlook on life took a 180 degree turn. After that, it was not so important that I was in control of my own destiny.
For the first three nights, I slept on the floor of the Immigration Office. The staff would chip in to buy me one meal a day. The water for my bucket shower came from a well in the courtyard. The office phone couldn't dial outside the country. There were only two desktop computers in the whole department. Most of my days was spent under a huge mango tree. Sometimes official business was also conducted under the tree. The officers would be writing on a pad of forms with carbon paper in between the pages. Occasionally a mango or two would drop to the ground. Sometimes the grounds keeper would hook some mangoes down for me. I always got to sit on the best chair.
On Christmas eve morning, I faxed the High Commissioner of Canada in Maputo after leaving a couple of messages on their general voice mailbox and getting no response the previous day. The Immigration Office was closing at noon that day. The lady in charge of my case called a wealthy local businesswoman who sent her driver and secretary to pick me up from the Immigration Office. They checked me into a small hotel, and I stayed there for four days. I continued to eat just one meal a day. I spoke to no one. For some reason, I did not feel hungry or sad.
During Christmas, all the shops were all closed for a few days, and the streets were quiet. Even if I was hungry and had money, I would not be able to buy food. I was just worried that the thieves would clear out my bank accounts with the debit and credit cards in my bag. I suppose when I involuntarily fasted and constantly pondered about the meaning of life with no distraction for hours on end, I finally realized that God would provide. All I had to do was to surrender, and allow Him to be in charge.
Angels came in all forms, shapes and sizes. On Boxing Day, while having the complimentary breakfast in the hotel, I heard an English conversation at the next table. I approached the young couple and asked them how to make a call outside Mozambique. The couple is originally from the States. They now live on the other side of the river and were in a hurry to catch a ferry. The young lady let me use her laptop to Skype one of my banks. There was no answer after ringing for half an hour. She then walked me to her friend's house where I was able to connect with my brother by email. By that time, I hadn't had contact with the outside world for a week.
My second angel is a pastor couple who fed me the following week. Every day I would go to their house and spent pretty much the whole day with their church family. Even though they did not limit the times that I could get online, I only used their computer to correspond with my brother. The strangest thing happened - I was beginning to feel very isolated. Most of them were bilingual; however, I did not want to repeat my story over and over again. On New Year's Eve, I stayed in my room in the wealthy businesswoman's house when my "church friends" celebrated the New Year with lots of food and music. I had another long dialogue with the Almighty. After submitting myself according to His plans, I slept peacefully that night.
When I went to Maputo two days later to apply for a new passport, I borrowed the equivalent of 80 USD for four days there. Let me put this in perspective for you. The minimum monthly salary is 100 USD and the median range is 200 to 400 USD. I stayed at a backpackers, and survived on biscuits and tap water for three days. My family had wired money to the High Commissioner of Canada office in Maputo; however, the funds would not be released to me until Jan 5th. I stayed in the dorm room most of the time because fasting seemed more bearable that way.
My third and fourth angels came in the form of young men who enabled me to communicate with the outside world and protected me from the darkness of the city. I have always felt fortunate to share with others what I have. Now I understand how blessed are the ones who give in their "poverty". On February 19th, I exited Mozambique and arrived in a hostel in Dar-es-Salaam, Tanzania, a young man asked me, "Madam, do you have any idea how hard it is to have no money and live in Africa?". I replied, "Yes, I do."
Prior to the robbery, my journey through Mozambique was not much different from my other trips through developing countries with poorly maintained roads. I was staying in run-down hotels and travelling in crowded buses that were considered to be luxurious by locals. Moreover, I was still pretty much in control of my travel options. For the lack of a better way to describe my experience in those two weeks subsequent to the incident, I would say that I went through dramatic spiritual transformations. My outlook on life took a 180 degree turn. After that, it was not so important that I was in control of my own destiny.
For the first three nights, I slept on the floor of the Immigration Office. The staff would chip in to buy me one meal a day. The water for my bucket shower came from a well in the courtyard. The office phone couldn't dial outside the country. There were only two desktop computers in the whole department. Most of my days was spent under a huge mango tree. Sometimes official business was also conducted under the tree. The officers would be writing on a pad of forms with carbon paper in between the pages. Occasionally a mango or two would drop to the ground. Sometimes the grounds keeper would hook some mangoes down for me. I always got to sit on the best chair.
On Christmas eve morning, I faxed the High Commissioner of Canada in Maputo after leaving a couple of messages on their general voice mailbox and getting no response the previous day. The Immigration Office was closing at noon that day. The lady in charge of my case called a wealthy local businesswoman who sent her driver and secretary to pick me up from the Immigration Office. They checked me into a small hotel, and I stayed there for four days. I continued to eat just one meal a day. I spoke to no one. For some reason, I did not feel hungry or sad.
During Christmas, all the shops were all closed for a few days, and the streets were quiet. Even if I was hungry and had money, I would not be able to buy food. I was just worried that the thieves would clear out my bank accounts with the debit and credit cards in my bag. I suppose when I involuntarily fasted and constantly pondered about the meaning of life with no distraction for hours on end, I finally realized that God would provide. All I had to do was to surrender, and allow Him to be in charge.
Angels came in all forms, shapes and sizes. On Boxing Day, while having the complimentary breakfast in the hotel, I heard an English conversation at the next table. I approached the young couple and asked them how to make a call outside Mozambique. The couple is originally from the States. They now live on the other side of the river and were in a hurry to catch a ferry. The young lady let me use her laptop to Skype one of my banks. There was no answer after ringing for half an hour. She then walked me to her friend's house where I was able to connect with my brother by email. By that time, I hadn't had contact with the outside world for a week.
My second angel is a pastor couple who fed me the following week. Every day I would go to their house and spent pretty much the whole day with their church family. Even though they did not limit the times that I could get online, I only used their computer to correspond with my brother. The strangest thing happened - I was beginning to feel very isolated. Most of them were bilingual; however, I did not want to repeat my story over and over again. On New Year's Eve, I stayed in my room in the wealthy businesswoman's house when my "church friends" celebrated the New Year with lots of food and music. I had another long dialogue with the Almighty. After submitting myself according to His plans, I slept peacefully that night.
When I went to Maputo two days later to apply for a new passport, I borrowed the equivalent of 80 USD for four days there. Let me put this in perspective for you. The minimum monthly salary is 100 USD and the median range is 200 to 400 USD. I stayed at a backpackers, and survived on biscuits and tap water for three days. My family had wired money to the High Commissioner of Canada office in Maputo; however, the funds would not be released to me until Jan 5th. I stayed in the dorm room most of the time because fasting seemed more bearable that way.
My third and fourth angels came in the form of young men who enabled me to communicate with the outside world and protected me from the darkness of the city. I have always felt fortunate to share with others what I have. Now I understand how blessed are the ones who give in their "poverty". On February 19th, I exited Mozambique and arrived in a hostel in Dar-es-Salaam, Tanzania, a young man asked me, "Madam, do you have any idea how hard it is to have no money and live in Africa?". I replied, "Yes, I do."
