Enter: Independent Mozambique and The Arts

This year for America’s 234th independence day, I reflect on Mozambican 35th independence, which I celebrated on June 25. Between my host father and the television specials, I had been hearing all week about Samora Michel, Mozambique’s liberation leader; Michel appears on every dollar bill and remains adored by the population at large. Dono Meque underlined these points on several occasions: first, he was present thirty five years ago in Maputo’s Praca da Independencia when Michel announced Mozambique’s independence and, second, Mozambique would never again have as good a president as Michel. This history is recent and personal.

I woke up early to head to the celebratory parade in Xai-Xai’s central Praca dos Heroes (read: Michel, et al). The chapas headed downtown were packed and only with the help of a friendly local woman did I manage to get a ride. Despite the cold, morning mist and fog, the plaza was packed. The only mulongo in sight, I couldn’t help but wonder if my presence was inappropriate. One in five women wore special capulanas commemorating Mozambique’s independence and Frelimo the ruling party. The “parade” began with songs and a military procession but was in fact a long ceremony kicked off by the governor’s speech and Islamic, Hindu and Catholic prayers. I only made it as far as the children’s jump rope “gymnastics” presentation and a few speeches and poems in Changana before I headed back home to prepare for my journey to Maputo. I arrived that night in time to revel in the youths’ exhuberance and dance to live marabenta music in the Praca da Independencia. At best, I can now comprehend a fraction of what it means to live through a liberation struggle and see one’s country’s liberation party work toward reducing poverty and long-standing inequalities between the rich and the poor, the urban and the rural.

Last weekend, I also managed to be a tourist for the first time since my arrival: surveying downtown Maputo from its old Portuguese fortress and strolling through the wood and batik fair inquiring about artisans’ wares; catching a miniature taxi with an African-Canadian couple to the fish market where we bought fresh seafood and then gorged on grilled lobster, king prawns, fish and calamari; and admiring the wood carvings and paintings at the National Arts Museum. As if that weren’t enough I also happened upon a phenomenal afro-jazz concert at the long-time artist’s collective and managed to arrange an chat over an afternoon beer with a National Song and Dance Company dancer/ choreographer at the Casa da Cultura. Within an hour and half, I had an open invitation to choreograph and piece with/for them when my hip is fully healed!

On Friday afternoon, I met my new dancer friend, Ali, at the recently-inaugurated Xai-Xai Casa da Cultura. An unassuming entrance on the main drag off of the Praca dos Heroes, the building opens into a courtyard whose four orange walls are a lively mural displaying bare-breasted men and women playing traditional instruments such as the xylophone-like timbila. There we spent the afternoon and evening drinking Laurentina Pretas, Mozambican dark beers, and chatting over the cheers and lone zuzuvela of our fellow world cup quarter-final fans. Surrounded by men as dark as night, the air was viscous with intense adrenaline and disappointment for first Brazil and then Ghana.

Ali had already spoken to the Casa’s Director about me, such that my presence was requested at the resident traditional dance company’s weekly rehearsal the following day. Not only did I join the intimate group for some of their warm up yesterday, but I was thrown into giving a beginning crash course in ballet and modern. My mini-class was unplanned and very basic, but challenging given Western dance’s penchant for turn-out and exactitude. Traditional dance from Gaza combines complex rhythms and song, reaching and other gestures, footwork, stomping and leaping. Save one drummer, the other four musicians rotated in and out of dancing and playing, a feat by which I will never cease to be amazed. I benefited much more than they from our exchange, but they were gracious and excited for my return. Tonight I’m teaching a workshop on improvisation that will draw on their strengths as traditional dancers but allow for fusion and expansion into contemporary movement.