We feel the sun penetrate through our clothes even in mid-winter in Southern Mozambique. While driving today, the temperature reached 25 C (about 80 F) at 3 p.m. Brilliant green palm trees, bushes and grass line the mostly-tarred road dotted with villages every few kilometers. People sell fruit – mostly oranges, lemons and limes – and neatly tied piles of wood. Children play less than one meter (three feet) from the road. The small houses consist of combination wood and thatch, entirely thatch or combination mud and thatch. Some men and children bike down the highway, but most people walk. Women wrapped in long fabric, worn like a wrap-around skirt, carry food and dishes on their heads and babies on their backs, secured by another piece of colorful fabric. Many of the women’s heads are covered skillfully, escaping the sun.

Flat plains give way to more hills and small mountains and taller trees. Every plant is as green as if it were in a Cameroon rain forest. We pass trucks loaded down with people: the back of a small flat-bed truck can hold 15 or more people – young, old, male and female – plus sacks of sugar or fruit. We pass few new cars, instead mostly old, battered trucks. Flag poles painted white standing erect at police stations and municipal buildings are made from crooked tree branches. Oh, what a wonderful world to explore.