Poco monde

I realize that "poco monde" may well mean "a little bit of world," or nothing at all, instead of "small world," which I was going for. In my few days of self-taught, book-free, French-influenced Portuguese, however, I say what it means, and small world it is.

I say this because in Mozambique, as elsewhere, I have found the world closing in on me; the further afield I travel, the more familiar things become, the more people and things I recognize, run into.

My latest small world episode came yesterday evening when, from the window of a public bus taking me back to beachfront Tofo from Inhambane, I spotted Elias, a Greek humanitarian worker I took a course with in Toronto last June. For 3 months in Toronto, I ran into no one from the course; a few days in Tofo, Mozambique, however, and there he is!

Such is the curious, interconnected world of humanitarian work in Africa (and I presume many other disciplines too), where you're as likely to meet an old friend or acquaintance in a randomly chosen African capital or holiday destination as in your own home city.

Last week in Malawi, I went hiking with a Mines Action Canada colleage named Nathan who is working in Mozambique - we met up at our mid-point, a "convenient" two-day bus journey each. Nathan brought along Maureen, a friend of his working in Malawi who (surprise?) knows one of my current Lusaka housemates and (surprise?) had planned to meet up with her after our hike. We combined our plans and all got together for a lovely, unplanned evening in Malawi.

In a few days, I will meet another Lusaka housemate in Maputo (where I am now); soon after, I'll meet two old Halifax friends for a couple days in Johannesburg; and, time permitting, I'll dip into Pretoria to catch up with another friend from the course in Toronto.

I don't think I'll ever match my all-time unlikeliest small world episode - traveling in Dharamsala, India in 2006, a Montreal friend (who didn't know I was in India, and vice versa) noticed my name (could there be another Louis Century?) on the sign-up sheet for a cooking course that evening, and promptly signed herself up too. I won't match this coincidence, partly because coincidences themselves are feeling less unlikely, less coincidental. As they occur with increasing regularity, they lose their surprise. Instead, they offer a kind, comforting sense of place: traveling, I am not lost.

I'll be writing again soon, because after a week or more of no connectivity - even the phone lines were unreliable - I'm now staying down the street from a super-fast Internet cafe. Located on a broad old Portuguese-style boulevard (aptly titled Avenido Mao Tse Tung), this cafe has Internet, and also excellent Italian espresso, baked goods and ice cream; I'll be back soon!