Searching for the Source

Discovering Lakes

A few weeks ago, we decided to go exploring to try to find the source of the Govuro River, the river on which Jay does his canoe trips. We set out in the morning and drove just past Mapinhane, where the turnoff to head towards Zinave National Park is (we wrote about a trip there earlier in the newsletter archive - click here to see that post).

This time, rather than turning off, we carried on down the N1. On the way, we passed this old crumbling rest stop and hopped out for a closer look.

It is most likely left over from the days when Mozambique was a Portuguese colony, and was broken down in disrepair during the Mozambican Civil War. The war only ended in 1992, and during the years of fighting much of the once rich wildlife was decimated.

Anyway, what we were looking for was a big lake which we thought could be the origin of the river. The Govuro is a fresh spring river fed with underground water. Jay drove along the N1 while I followed our progress on Google Earth until I saw our little dot on the map nearing the turnoff to the lake - a dirt road so small and non -description we nearly missed it.

From there, phone service was patchy, so we carried on following what looked like the most worn path. The scenery around us was just amazing - we went straight from Vilankulo beach scenes to riverine forest with thick brush, tall trees, and twisting vines. At one point we came across a field of yellow flowers, and I got out to  take a picture. Jay knows a lot of biologists and researchers from his days working with National Geographic, and we often send photos of strange looking flowers and bugs to his contacts to identify.

When I stepped out, I was hit with warm sun on my face and the sound of children from some nearby hidden village laughing. The air smelled of flowers. Dozens of butterflies, orange, purple, blue and white, floated by on invisible air currents. I felt such a feeling of peace.

We didn’t stop for long, but carried on in our search for the lake. It started to rain lightly. We had to stop a couple times to ask directions from villagers, encountering at one turn this fisherman laden with his catch - the fish are called ‘chibaha’ in the local Xitswa.

Finally, we came to large bean field, after which the road was too narrow for us to continue by car. A woman with a bandana around her head, one gold hoop earring, and very few teeth greeted us - she looked like a pirate, an image made complete by the panga (machete) in her hand. Behind her, a bull suddenly appeared, a man wearing one croc and a slightly rumpled suit jacket careening behind it trying desperately to slow it down via a rope tied around its horns. The bull abruptly stopped on reaching us and started sleepily munching beans. This led to some shouting and arm waving from the woman, who was seeing her crop decimated, before the bull finally settled on the other side of the road to chew grass and eye us with a bovine look.

The woman, the man, and the bull in the bean field.

Jay pulled out his arsenal of languages to ask about the location of the lake. English was a no-go, as was Portuguese. Shona was half-half, Xitswa a middling option. Finally, they settled on Fanagalo, a pidgin farming language, laughing and slapping their knees at jokes beyond my comprehension. After a bit of talk, they set off down a tiny footpath, where the man would show Jay the lake.

The path to the lake.

Meanwhile, the woman started collecting some beans, presenting me with a huge bundle.

These were about four times the size of ordinary green beans. I didn’t get an English name for them.

When Jay and the man returned, Jay asked if the beans were good to eat. There were enthusiastic nods, but when Jay split a bean pod open and popped some peas into his mouth the man screeched and slapped the pod out of his hand. Jay spat the peas out as we all laughed - for some reason, everything seems funny in Fanagalo in the bush - and the man pantomimed frying the beans, making a loud “shhhhhhh” sound to indicate the frying and showing them jumping on his palm from the supposed heat. We laughed again and thanked him, then he, the bull, and the woman carried on their way.

We locked the car and set off down the path. We walked in a light rain to the source, which was only a few minutes away.

An interesting find along the way - a bright green spider mama and her babies huddled camouflaged under a green leaf, which acted not only to hide them but also as an umbrella. See the unfortunate cricket in the upper left - a leftover spider snack.

Unfortunately, the big lake was impossible to get to as it had a screen of tall, sharp reeds around it. We decided to return with better footwear (as usual, we were wearing flip flops) and try again when it wasn’t raining.

The lake is at the far end of this area, where you can see foliage in the background.

Still, we had found it, and the beauty of the journey made it well worth the day out.