Maputo Recovers from Years of War

MAPUTO - Standing on a balcony, watching the tall palms bend and dance as the orange sunlight bounces off the Indian Ocean, one can imagine what this city was like when it still bore the name of Lourenço Marques, a Portuguese trader. Large stucco houses lining graceful avenidas, plane and jacaranda trees, beachfront cafes and lazy afternoons in the sun would have been the rule - if you were Portuguese, that is. But outdated and unwelcome colonialism, crushing poverty, a vicious war of independence and sixteen years of guerrilla fighting have left their mark on both the city's buildings and on its soul.

The sidewalk cafés, once the pride of the capital, lie disaffected and grimy as diesel fumes from decades-old vehicles spew by. The elegant colonial villas remain, transformed into headquarters or homes for international agencies or foreign embassies. But their paint is peeling and their toilets are in need of a plumber. Take a taxi, and your feet might poke through the rusted floor.

Highrises built during the long years of Soviet influence stand erect along streets whose names read like a Who's Who of socialist history: Ho Chi Minh, Karl Marx or Kim Il Sung streets. But the buildings are decrepit and dying, much like the regime that built them. The elevators are broken, water no longer rises through pipes, and in many cases, life has reverted to what it used to be before the rural village became vertical.

In the years of war, violence was normal, not excusable, but expected. But the calm that cloaked the city for a sliver of time after a fragile democracy was declared in 1994 has disappeared. Today, iron bars, dogs and round-the-clock guards remind residents that wandering on foot is risky, and going out at night is best done with an escort and fastened car doors. Once inside an inevitably guarded compound, the locks go on the automobile: a gorilla lock for the steering wheel, a gear lock, a coded alarm signal, and perhaps a tracking device. And then the iron gates clang shut.

A few days ago, a Swiss development worker, a mother of two, was forced out of her car and shot five times at point blank range because bandits wanted her four-wheel drive vehicle. She was here to help the country rebuild. Random violence is on the rise, and it is angering the city, a reminder that anyone can become an instant statistic. But perhaps people aren't angry enough.

Violent crime is not particularly aimed at expatriates. They just have the newer vehicles. Not long ago, a Mozambican woman was dragged kicking and screaming past wealthy locked homes next to the presidential palace by a drunken soldier. He forced her into a secluded area and raped her. She escaped, but many do not. No one heard her screams, they said. Certainly no one came out to help her.

In the first six months of 1996, there were 17,000 crimes in Mozambique, a country of 17 million people. Some NGOs are thinking of pulling out, and even visiting a field project can become a life-in-the-balance outing if the crime wave is cresting. Rumour has it corruption may have reached the highest levels of government. An honest cop in Maputo is a poor cop, some people believe.

Until declared otherwise by the World Bank recently, this was the poorest country in the world. The basic income per person is well below US$100 a year. This doesn't stop government officials from voting themselves hefty salary increases, while street children beg, sell trinkets or guard official Mercedeses and BMWs to pay for food. One recent round of increases for deputies included a 17,000 Meticais (US$1.50) daily allowance for tea breaks when the National Assembly is in session, about double the national minimum wage for a day's work.

But here and there in the former pearl of Mozambique, there are signs of hope. A café opens where a ruin previously stood. A corner shop gets a new coat of paint. A rundown hotel is revamped to international standards. A colonial mansion is spruced up rather than razed. An automated bank teller is installed. Roads are cleared and traffic sargeants monitor rush hour drivers. People plan parties, and the sounds of dancing echo across the water until the early hours of the morning.

Maputo has little choice. The country is broke, and most of its money comes from foreign aid. But donors eventually move on, and money will have to be found elsewhere. So the government is turning to tourism and private investment as its first line of attack for post-relief reconstruction.

Crime will have to be cut, police trained and upgraded, communications improved, corruption brought under control and services expanded. If Maputo's potential isn't wasted before it matures and the fruits of its expansion salted away in the bank accounts of the elite, this city could be everything publicity propagandists claim it already is.

But one mustn't forget it is a city convalescing from a long illness. At times, it appears to be moving forward, and at others, slipping back. Sometimes, it feels as though it's doing both simultaneously, searching for its way.