Finally after 78 grueling hours on two jam-packed prehistoric vans, we finally arrived at our destination, in Dondo Mozambique. I had been talking to my teammates that I needed to purchase sandals and as luck would have it, we found a large market nearby teeming with people. The team and I, Pharos, had barely met but several followed me into the street market outside the Iris compound. There were sandals everywhere, every kind you can imagine. One short, rotund native gentleman, gestured to me, so I went inside his shop. The entire shop was constructed of bamboo rods held together by rope and blue tarps. It didn’t look too steady but as you well know, I am always looking for a bargain so I continued on. I reached over and picked up some sandals that appeared exactly the type I was looking for, when much to my surprise the entire floor gave way and I fell down a hole up to my waist. As sandals flew into the air and I remained stuck in the hole, the man laughed hysterically, as did everyone in the market and my team. The man seemed totally undisturbed by what had happened to his shop, or what was happening to me. I jumped onto the few bamboo pieces that had not collapsed and hauled myself out of the hole. All I could think was, “great Wes, first country with the World Race and I fell down a hole, wonderful start.” Of course I felt obligated to purchase sandals from the man after nearly destroying his shop and was very anxious to get on my way.
As if that wasn’t embarrassing enough, as we were trying to navigate the congested street to return to our lodging, I saw an old lady crawling on her hands and knees, cane in hand, cross the street in heavy traffic. I didn’t have my Superman costume with me, however there was a damsel in distress and no one but me seemed to notice. I began weaving in and out of the snarled mess of rusty vehicles, motorbikes, and people on foot determined to rescue the lady, before someone squashed her. I managed to get to her side and as I reached down to pick her up, her traditional African dress tore loose and started to fall of. She was naked beneath it! Her culture demands that knees must remained covered at all times, which I didn’t know since I had just arrived. As I began to trudge into oncoming traffic, something dropped at my feet. Hoping it was her cane I glanced down, startled and upset, to realize it was actually her artificial leg. The lady was so confused and stared at me the whole time, because our group were the only white people in the market that day. At this point my teammate, Jason, seeing my distress, gathered up the poor ladies clothing as well as her artificial leg and somehow we got her all put together. She never said anything because of the language barrier, so we gave her a hug, tried to say “God bless you” and got out of there as quickly as possible before we caused any more damage. All I could think was “My year of the World Race had just begun. How many stories would I have to tell, before my entire Race year was complete.”
