Introduction
‘You go to the police station’ menaced Sergeant Silvestre, turning to point behind his back at a lime green building, explaining that the crime was ‘not wearing a mask in the car’. We were stopped in a queue of trucks and cars negotiating speedbumps, army, police, paramilitary, immigration agents and sellers of nuts, cooldrinks and much else at the bridge that spans the great Save River in Mozambique’s Inhambane Province, just north of the popular tourist destination of Vilanculos.
We saw no tourists at all on the road to Malawi from Maputo, not even adventuresome overlanders and members of the 4x4 brigade. This may have (partly) been down to Covid-19, but their absence was hardly surprising given the levels of intimidation and friction from officialdom.
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