SPeCIal FeaTURe
BY aNDY FeNWICK
Obrigado, Chicamba,
Mozambique!
It was early morning and black as pitch when we hooked up
Ian’s bass rig to the back of the pick-up and scythed our way
through downtown Harare. I had not slept much. I never do
when it comes to fishing - the excitement always
gets the better of me.
I
an had invited me to fish with him in
the inaugural Chicamba Casa Msika
Challenge, a bass fishing bonanza in
Mozambique. The prospect of tangling with
one of Chicamba’s monster bass had been
at the back of my mind for several weeks. I
just hoped that Ian, one of Zimbabwe’s top
bass anglers, knew what he was about to let
himself in for - enthusiastic amateurs are ideal
partners in a competitive environment.
We ploughed on through the darkness,
almost hypnotised by the illuminated tarmac
framed in the headlights. There was a sense
of relief when the horizon slowly began to
turn a subtle purple-pink as we headed east
into the rising sun.
“Wow! Where else in the world can you
see a sunrise like that?” I remarked, inwardly
cringing.
Yes, I know, it is a bit of a cliche! I
usually shudder when I hear those words.
Inevitably there is always some idiot who
blurts them out. But in this case I was that
idiot, and the words were appropriate..
“Coffee break?” I enquired.
Ian is a man of few words, especially at
five in the morning. He grunted his approval
of the suggestion.
As I stepped out of the confines of the
cramped and stuffy cab, the fresh, early
morning breeze caught my nostrils - the
remnants of a bush fire wisped through the
pungent, pleasant smell of vlei, dew-damp
sand and msasa trees.
With a full mug of coffee we continued
on our way. Just a few minutes later we came
upon the second ‘toll gate’ of our journey,
completed the transaction and carried on.
The sky was much lighter now. The
ragged knuckles of Christmas Pass, gateway
to the city of Mutare, loomed ahead.
Mutare, nestled on Zimbabwe’s eastern
border, is cradled within a massive granite
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amphitheatre. It is probably Zimbabwe’s
prettiest town, and one of the oldest. As
we threaded our way through the quiet,
sleepy suburbs, we kept an eye out for a
service station. Towing the heavily-laden
boat had used a bit more fuel than we had
bargained for. At the first garage we came to,
surprisingly, in spite of the early hour, a fuel
attendant was already on duty.
He was pleasant and welcoming. We
soon had a full tank and were on our way
again. A short while later we turned off and
headed towards the Forbes/Machipanda
border post.
I am not fond of border crossings at
the best of times, and Forbes, one of the
busy ones, is usually a shambles. To make
matters worse the site is currently under
renovation - the area is poorly sign-posted.
Adding to the confusion, the Zimbabwean
authorities do not appear to have any kind
uniform that identifies them as ‘officials’
so you are never really sure who you are
dealing with! Anyway, in amongst all of this
chaos, we managed to see the right people,
get all the correct stamps, paid our money
and were ushered through the boom. In all,
it took about half-an-hour. Not bad really. It
definitely pays to get there early.
In stark contrast, however, formalities
on the Mozambique side, Machipanda,
could not have been more different. The
Mozambique funcionarios are pleasant,
resplendent in their smart uniforms and
seem genuinely pleased that you are visiting
their country.
“Bon-dia….” the Customs official’s
words oozed through an invisible cloud of
garlic-punctuated breath!
“Chicamba, Casa Msika?” he enquired.
Apparently our boat had betrayed our
intentions.
“Ah, yes, Chicamba…” I confirmed.
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