Oct 23 2012 The story of Mr. Matsinhe delusional

• Matsinhe

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  "What year are?”. Those were the first words I heard Mr Matsinhe. I went to a meeting to meet the man who would take my residency papers in Mozambique and saw a middle-aged man, about 50 years, somewhat plump and very weak voice, all leading hotel labor issues. Then listen: "What year are?"And I thought"!hopefully not the guy who's going to fix my papers!”

"What year are?”. Those were the first words I heard Mr Matsinhe. I went to a meeting to meet the man who would take my residency papers in Mozambique and saw a middle-aged man, about 50 years, somewhat plump and very weak voice, all leading hotel labor issues. Then listen: "What year are?"And I thought"!hopefully not the guy who's going to fix my papers!”. Then I was wrong. Era. On another occasion I had met him in a bar and he stopped at the door to ask me where to enter. In front there was an immense door, to the right a fence. He stood still in front of the fence. My life in this place was in the hands of that strange lord.

On another occasion I had met him in a bar and he stopped at the door to ask me where to enter

The regularization process in Mozambique is, say, diffuse. In every desk that you enter you have the feeling of coming back 30 years back. Wooden offices in which papers and people pile up on benches and tables. The first thing we did is go ask for my tax identification number. We entered a room and a very polite young man explained that he could not give it to us because "the connection with Maputo had not worked for a week ...". Yes, clarified that the computing had entailed some delay but that, at least, "We no longer give the same number to different people as happened before". Mr Matsinhe heard, he smiled and answered: "I come tomorrow". And tomorrow he came back and got the number.

Then we went to the notary to legalize my new company. JBranbdoli E. In. Mr Matsinhe came in with me, skipped a queue 20 people who had been there for a millennium waiting, spoke with an officer, who spoke with another officer, that he communicated something to another officer ... and we left the Notarial Register with an early appointment to set up my company. That was the day I discovered which is undoubtedly Mr Matsinhe's favorite hobby: "Make copies". He likes to do a lot, but he likes to do them one by one. We go to a site and they ask you for a photocopy of your passport, we go out and do it. It inevitably happens that in the next place we enter they ask for another photocopy of the passport and we have to go out again to do it. So until one day I gave him money and instructed Mr. Matsinhe to do 1500 together photocopies of all my documents, something that later I understood that he does not like, he prefers to do things one by one.

That was the day I discovered which is undoubtedly Mr Matsinhe's favorite hobby: "Make copies"

The next morning we were at the Notary. We were greeted by a young boy, reluctant, that I had handwritten the statutes of my company. I had to read them aloud, with my portuñol still poorly trained, and sign various forms. Leaving, Mr Matsinhe tells me: "This boy works very well, did everything in 24 hours. You can tell it's new ". He was silent and five seconds later he reflected: "In a year he will catch the rhythm of the others and he will not work anymore".

Almost everything was ready, although the bad thing is that every day there was a new expense. Regularizing here with a company and the residence permit involves an expense of about 40.000 MZN (1.100 EUR), but the doses are given to you in a drip. "Why don't you give me the price all together instead of asking me for something new every day??”, I reproached him once. "Because every day things have a price here. If I say that it costs so much and then it is more, the client will get angry ", he answered. (Something I found to be true when ordering the DIR, what has uploaded 2.000 meticulous in two weeks). I was beginning to understand that Mr Matsinhe's logic worked, slow, but it worked.

Much is a few choppy sentences, that man is more to contemplate and perceives half of what I say

Then came the fateful day when we had to go down to purgatory, the Maxixe Immigration Office, a 300 km from where I live. On the way we talk a lot about politics, life, the country. Much is a few choppy sentences, that man is more to contemplate and perceives half of what I say. He told me that he lived in the USSR, and Democratic Germany, it was a political position of Frelimo (government party) in the times of Independence. Africa then became communist out of rebellion rather than conviction. (What will have remained of all that utopia in the current political corruption?).

We got there and had to take a wooden barge to 40 people we were in 63 to play a role in Inhambane, and wait for them to finish a computer sheet that they typed with a finger, and they changed the person for slow and one came who typed with two, and we went back to the barge with other 60 People, and we arrived at Maxixe's office, and we left my papers after three hours of waiting and photocopies, and we came back a week later, and they had lost my papers, and my passport was not, and they told me that they don't have labels because Maputo doesn't send them to them, and it was illegal, and nobody cared, and everyone who was around me also left without documents, and the queue of people left the old office where the workers did not attend because they did not feel like it, and nobody complained, and they treated people badly, and I screamed angrily, and Mr Marsinhe did something like a whisper to show his solidarity anger, and the others looked at the stranger who got angry, and I didn't understand anything, And I was listening to a jerk treat me like a jerk, and I had idiot conversations, and Mr Matsinhe was smiling, and then he entered an office, and left after another room, and a guy while he wanted to sell me a map of all of Africa in a surreal scene, and one of the officials explained to me that the problem was from Maputo, and another played cards, and I thought that I would never leave that place, and I laughed out loud, and he was hitting me, and they told me there was nothing they could do, and suddenly Mr. Matsinhe came out with my passport in hand, with a visa, and told me that we could go home.

Then I remembered that time I heard him ask what year are we? Without him I would have done nothing.