“There’s gold in them thar hills.”
The Treasure of the Sierra Madre
At the northern end of this ramshackle resort is a fenced in compound of South African gold prospectors, a gated community here along the Moçambiquan coast of Lake Nyasa, complete with a trained posse of local factotums that man the gate and iron and cook and clean and wash and assist out in the field. Occasionally they also get fall down drunk together with their employers, and at these times, the locals learn some English.
On Saturday night, after a few drinks with Wonderful and the Gang, they loosen up and show off their newfound English.
– Fuck you, says Isaac matter-of-factly to Santos, the bartender. Santos uncaps bottles of 2M, ignores Isaac.
– Fuck you, again, louder this time. Giggles all round.
– Fuck you pussseeeeeeyyyyy, a yell in Santos’ face who continues unperturbed.
– Fuck you, fuck you muthafucka!!
Hilarity all round. Hand-slapping, fist-knocking laughter and talk – all in Portuguese.
– You cunt!
– Hey, you, fuck you cunt!
– I like it! I like it, screeches Wonderful,
well in his cups,
having guzzled down
three 500ml tetrapacks
of godawful red wine
and busy with a fourth.