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We – the seven member crew (Greg Carr, Ken Carr and his son Jeff, Peggy Rockefeller, Bertus the helicopter pilot, Tato Alexandre, and me, Domingos João Muala) – owe him the utmost appreciation for providing us the exclusive opportunity to enjoy one of the extraordinary natural sights of the interior of Cheringoma, Sofala, Mozambique.

Our helicopter lifted off from the runway of the Chitengo Safari camp inside Gorongosa National Park around 10 o’clock on Sunday morning, March 23, 2008. We headed towards the north of the Park. Greg’s intention was for us to see some elephants, and perhaps to provide our most important VIP of the day, Peggy Rockefeller (from one of the wealthiest families in the United States) with a green view of the fabulous Rift Valley ecosystem, dotted with marshes and waterways running this way and that. Peggy was accompanied by Greg’s brother and nephew, who were present on their first visit to these, the most natural lands of the Indian Ocean coastal region.
It was an unmatched emotional experience. It was a mixture of joy and incredible surprise for the most inexperienced among us, Tato and Domingos. For us, it was like dreaming while awake. And it’s difficult for me to describe it. It’s beyond me to bring you this triumph. I’ll try to give you just a taste.

Tato and me, two workers on the lowest level of the company structure, were chosen by Vasco Galante to go that day with the boss on a visit to the underground natural works in Cheringoma. And in the aircraft we were seated next to the boss Greg and his executive class – the American millionaires. The emotion we two experienced escapes my power to describe it.

It was the first time for everything. Ride in an Executive class helicopter. Sit next to the boss, close together and like friends. Casual conversation! Talk through the helicopter headphones. Visualize the grandeur and greenery of the Park at that time of year. See up close some of the resident communities inside the bush, animals crazed by the sound of the engine and looking for refuge under low trees. My colleague, Tato, astonished with joy. Already in the air he kept losing control of his emotions. He nudged me each time he saw an animal, a lost house in the belly of the animal wilderness, or as soon as he saw the rocky outcroppings of the high zones.

Tato’s feelings turned into an epidemic when we landed in his family’s field of varied crops. We were in front of a crowd of family members whom he hadn’t visited in almost twenty years. And, looking at his family members, you could read the triumph of this first ever experience: to see their son descend from a flight surrounded by white people, and what kind of white people at that? The wealthy benefactor of Gorongosa National Park, the savior of their own son who was brought by helicopter to visit his family, his native land, his machamba. Even a sick member of the family – Baptista, who had spent days in bed suffering from eye pain – got better from his illness and walked that day, going with us to see the Grottos.

After some time among the large family, we departed from that house of 31 people for the Grottos, which were almost two kilometers away. Now indeed there was a fair trade: Greg gave space to all. Tato’s family members got into the helicopter.  We went with some family members to the Grottos by foot, while others flew, anxious to try the helicopter flight, at least from the field to the Grottos.

The novelty of it ruled everything and everyone. The foreigners were amazed at the dexterity and ease with which the locals agilely shifted their feet in search of the rocky path covered in grass. Distance doesn’t exist for those not accustomed to riding in vehicles, and in Khodzué local transport doesn’t exist.

The foreigners were about to get tired of walking when the destination surprised us and fissures appeared without warning. “These are the Grottos!” called out the local owners. And soon the local traditional rites had wiped out all of our provisions. They were used for the ntsembe (the traditional ceremony) necessary before entering into the unfamiliar underground – the China of the bats.  Luís Francisco S. Chimbatata, a local community leader, took all of our snacks and gave them to the ancestral spirits in exchange for a safe visit to the Grottos.

Forgive me if I’ve already used up my poor vocabulary. It’s not easy to describe the Cheringoma Grottos. I wanted only to give an idea of the Grottos, of an unusual Easter, of a trip when some workers went together with their boss on an executive flight. And…

We entered cautiously in each Grotto after a few steps in the natural avenues inside. It was like trying the impossible and stopping all thought, in fact, it was condition number one:  move like a child and think like a dunce. There are so many entrances inside from one area to the next. And a mysterious river with water fresh and permanent, a natural rock basin always full of water. The waters of this river go around to dampen the roots of the rocks, some of which shrank from the bits of sun in the fissures that connect to the outside. A variety of live bats make up the false roof over the natural lakes. Plants exist on the banks of the river and crevices, as if there weren’t bushes and even trees outside of the Grottos. A slanting rock serves as a frame where the courageous high dignitaries recorded their historic passage. We suggest that a book and a pen be put there. And remember that the avenues inside, in many places with a false roof, seem impeccably paved with the excrement of the owners of the country – the bats. If you’re allergic, use shoes…

How about that for an Easter?

By Domingos João Muala

Domingos João Muala is a member of the Human Development Team at Gorongosa National Park, where he teaches both English and Portuguese to Project staff.  He is also currently writing a book on the history of Chitengo and its surrounding communities. His colleague, Tato Alexandre, is a member of the staff of the Chitengo Restaurant.