Her ankles elegantly crossed, her spine upright
Frelimo skirt flaps bright reds, yellows, proud liberty
Sitting behind her husband she faces east, he peddles south
Nursing their baby rocking at her breast they travel to the market
Carrying an empty plastic can for 5 litres of kerosene to light their lantern tonight
His pearled brow squints against the sun with every stride
Korean trucks stir dust toward the morphing road works
Tied to his metal stallion he returns to his children with this catch
Tiger fish from the Rio Reveu for sale to ladies carrying bundles on their heads
Smiling to tourist cameras, surprised by a hand full of Metticais, shouting:gracis Deus
His legs barely reach the ground on his father’s steel chariot
Negotiating peak-traffic in Chimoio, he weaves across paved arteries of humanity
Slowing down in front of our parked cars, he pulls in behind the other bike
He’s early too, thirty minutes at least before the pump-attendant shows up
Two ten year olds, patiently in a grown-up life at five’o clock in Mozambique
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