As i sit in the Maputo airport, waiting for my airplane (which at the moment is going to be delayed about 6 12 hours) I thought I would reminisce about last nights activities. Because honestly, there is nothing else to do here.
Being in Africa, I stand out. I’m white, and very obviously do not blend in with the majority population. In Nairobi, I haven’t really seen it as being a problem, other than being constantly pestered by people wanting money. But last night in Maputo, the color of my skin was an issue.
This guy Fabio, who was helping facilitate the technology in the advocacy conference I was leading, showed up at my hotel around 9pm. We had talked about him taking Sali and I out on the town, as he is very proud of his country and wanted to show us around. I was really excited about his enthusiasm and generosity, and was up for anything. Last night was a exciting night for the people in Mozambique, as today is their Independence Day. So lots of people were out and about celebrating. We began the night by going to a local pub and watching the Japanese play some killer football. Fabio recommended that we go to a local strip club, to see some hot girls dance on polls. Sali was very excited about the prospect of seeing woman almost naked shaking their stuff…I on the other hand smiled and nodded.
The subject of my sexuality hasn’t really come up in my time here. I get a sense that being gay is still really looked down upon, and is not widely accepted in the African culture. So I’ve approached the subject rather sensitively, not saying I’m gay, but not saying I’m not gay. When I’ve been asking if I have a girlfriend I say “No.” They never think to ask if I have a boyfriend. I guess it is kind of like i’m in the army, “Dont Ask Dont Tell.” So, when Fabio suggested the strip club, I just went along with it. I’m not opposed to strip clubs, I’ve been to them before and find them amusing, but I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
So we walk down this street in the downtown area, and it is filled with prostitutes. It was early too, I was told, so the streets were rather mild. These girls were mostly younger, with the short skirts exposing their hoo-hoo’s and haa-haa’s. The three of us walk by and they hoot and holler. Fabio told us that prostitution is relatively dismissed here in Maputo, and it happens rather freely. For about $20 USD you could get a lady and room for an hour. Or if you didn’t want to pay for a room, there were lots of empty streets which the girls would be happy to take us to. I made it very clear that I was not interested in partaking in any “loving”.
Unlike the strip clubs that I had been to in the states, the placed is filled with hookers. I’m telling you, like swarming with girls looking to make a buck or two. They are get up on a stage and casually dance with one another while looking in the mirror (these girls aren’t the stripers, mind you). Then once they get their mojo going, they starting walking around the place looking for a man. In the hour that I was there I had so many women coming up to me, putting their arms around me, rubbing my chest, trying to entice me into making a purchase. Feeling uncomfortable was an understatement. I was soooo not in my element. But I noticed very quickly that these woman weren’t going up to Slie or Fabio, only me. I assume that they thought 1. this white boy loves these Mozambican girls 2. this white boy has got tons of money….boy were they wrong, on so many levels. One young lady Linda, who looked like she was carrying a whole bunch of contagious surprises, was very persistent and was not interested in taking no for an answer. I just found the whole thing gross. Then the main dancer came on. Clad in a skimpy top and bottom she got on the platform which housed 3 poles. She spent the next 20 minutes jumping from pole to pole shaking her coochie all up in everyones faces. It was at this point where I decided I had had enough and was ready to go.
On the way back to the hotel, we encountered the exact same scenario THREE times. Fabio, Slie and I were stopped by policemen. Now there were lots of people walking through the streets, and we were the only group that was stopped. It was obvious that it was because I was white, the foreigner. Thankfully we had Fabio with us, who speaks Portuguese, otherwise we would have been in deep trouble. The cops would ask us for our identification. I have only been carrying a photocopy of my passport around, for fear of having it lost or stolen, so that’s what I gave them. They all did not accept it as valid ID, because the copy wasn’t certified, mind you Slie didn’t have his VISA on him at all. The cops were only concerned with me. It was obvious that they only wanted money. I guess it is pretty common for them to instill fear into visitors, threatening to arrest you unless you pay them off, but Fabio was not having it. The cops were telling him and Slie to leave but they weren’t going to leave me alone with the cops. Fabio said fine, take him to the police, knowing that they wouldn’t because I hadn’t done anything illegal. So finally after 10 minutes (which each set of police officers along the way), we made it back to the hotel.
Fabio was really embarrassed about the ways the police officers were harassing me just because I look different. It was the first time in my life where I really felt mistreated/misunderstood/judged because I’m white. It was really intense and really enlightening and the same time. I’m glad I had the experiences that I did last night, as these things are a reality. We are so quick to judge and draw conclusions about one another, but when it comes down to it we are all just the same. It’s just skin.
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