Maningue Saudades

Sometimes I miss our life in Mozambique so much I could cry. Not because I wish to move back out of dissatisfaction with our new chapter at Casa Cali (although obviously part of me would love to be back with the girls for leisurely late lunches at Zambi and weekend suntanning at Hotel Cardoso). Rather, I wish we were back in Maputo because I can feel memory playing its old, funny tricks on me already. Nearly five years spent between Maputo and Chimoio, and only a handful of months here in the Bay Area, and already the crisp lembranças of the former are slipping away. Some days it all seems so distant that I can barely believe that I lived one-sixth of my life in Africa. The memories dull, the floorplan of our flat seemingly imprinted forever in my mind begins to contort, the smells fade and the luso-afro slang flutters away.

I wonder, in the midst of these memory-games, what exactly I will carry with me as permanent, faithful memories of our time in Mozambique. It makes me sad that already I am losing part of our experience there...

Perhaps this is a contributing factor to my renewed desire to write?