Soundtrack to Mozambique

I have always had a soundtrack to my life.  Pre-Mozambique, it was reggaeton music (some say bad, I say good, but ask my college roommates for the final verdict), the Backstreet Boys, and Broadway musical numbers (performed by my itunes and myself). 

In Mozambique, my soundtrack is no longer for a small group.  The music bounces off the side of each mountain and echoes in a way I never thought possible to create a positive cacophony of dance music – Mozambique operates on the sharing is caring level.  Our music collection lately has been Boyz II Men, Adele songs remixed as crazy dance beats, imported Angolan hip hop music, Southern African church music accompanied by awkward music videos on the TV, and chickens.  In transportation news, I took a chapa (a van that has 14 seats but actually brings at least 25 people to their destination at a time) at one point, and we listened to R. Kelly for at least 2 hours of the 6 hour journey.

Mozambique appreciates R. Kelly. But it loves Boyz II Men.

I have noticed that Mozambique does things together.  Just as neighbors do not complain about obnoxiously loud music, people do not get exasperated when the chapa they are on has made personal space a distant memory or when chapa in question arrives hours late, does not arrive at all, or breaks down multiple times on the EN-1 (Mozambique’s first and only truly legitimate highway).  

 Here, it's collective. It's a collective struggle, it's a collective triumph, and clearly, it's a collective dance party.