If you have just moved into the cities of Cape Town, Maputo, Lusaka or Windhoek, you have become part of the problem. A big driver of climate change is urbanization and scientists say these four African cities are at the top of the list.
That was one reason why 2016 ranked as the hottest year on record, according to data analyzed by the World Meteorological Organization (WMO), the United Nations’ authoritative voice on weather, climate and water.
One of the leading causes of this is carbon dioxide and methane concentrations from burning fossil fuels, which surged to new records, claims the WMO. This based on evidence from the likes of NASA, the US National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, UK-based Met Office Hadley Centre and the University of East Anglia’s Climatic Research Unit.
The world’s cities are responsible for 60% of all carbon dioxide and greenhouse gases while occupying just 2% of Earth’s surface, according to the United Nations Human Settlement Programme.
It means, unless humans find ways of reducing their carbon emissions, worse is yet to come.
Climate change, according to the South African Weather Service, is the natural cycle which the earth and its atmosphere experience from energy received from the sun. The climate goes through warm and cold periods, taking hundreds of years to complete one cycle. The changes also influence rainfall, but the biosphere is able to adapt to a changing climate if these changes take place over centuries.
As many as 100 million people could slide into extreme poverty because of rising temperatures, which are caused by greenhouse gas emissions, the World Bank reports.  It also says climate change has led to crop failures, natural disasters, higher food prices and the spread of waterborne diseases, creating poverty and pushing people at risk into destitution.
In 2015, the UN, in its report on climate change, noted that it is expected to cause shorter growing seasons and force large tracts of peripheral agriculture out of production. Without action, climate change would likely spark higher agricultural prices and could threaten food security in poorer regions such as sub-Saharan Africa and South Asia.
Climate variability is also at play.
This year has been aggravated by El Nino, a Pacific Ocean weather pattern which decreases moisture in the sub-Saharan region and causes other extreme weather patterns.
Examples of climate variability could be seen in Cape Town in March; a disaster was declared by authorities as dam levels dropped to 31.5%. At the time of going to print, the city estimated that it had 105 days of useable water left. Meanwhile, in Mozambique and Madagascar, countries lying just north and east of South Africa, the category four tropical cyclone Enawo hit. The cyclone, which ravaged their coastlines with winds of 190 kilometers per hour, was dubbed the most destructive storm in years.
The next problem is how people deal with it.
A large group of people within the FRACTAL project, led by the Climate System Analysis Group (CSAG) at the University of Cape Town (UCT), is trying to tackle the problems associated with climate change in cities through novel approaches.
“We need to move away from the ‘sausage machine’ type of model whereby climate data is produced on one end by scientists, then follows a path to be spat out at the end to decision makers who are expected to use the data. Decision makers need to be engaged in the process of producing relevant climate knowledge from the beginning.”
So says Alice McClure, the coordinator of the Future Resilience for African CiTies and Lands (FRACTAL), a four-year project that aims to build relationships between scientists, practitioners, and the people whose elected representatives decide what’s best for the city.
“In this process, science should not be king. We argue that the knowledge that decision makers in the cities have is more relevant than the information the scientist is going to produce. For the purpose of decision making, scientists can produce as much rigorous climate data as they want, but the uptake of climate information and eventual impact that it might have, is undermined without considerations of context,” says McClure.
Started in 2015, FRACTAL is working in nine cities: Blantyre, Gaborone, Harare, Lusaka, Maputo and Windhoek. Durban, Cape Town and Johannesburg in South Africa have joined the program as self-funded cities.
FRACTAL is part of an initiative called Future Climate Change for Africa, which runs five projects to understand Africa better during climate change and integrates this into decision making.
FRACTAL’s approach enables particular issues, focused on water and energy, to be identified in each of the cities in which it is working, for which relevant and significant climate knowledge can be produced by scientists and decision makers.
What is becoming evident through the initial engagements is that each city has its own problems. For example, in Maputo issues associated with potable water, drainage and sanitation have surfaced, while in Lusaka groundwater recharge, drinking water, flooding and solid waste in peri-urban areas surfaced as pertinent issues.
“We need to understand the region within which the city is located, and how this might affect resources in the city, such as energy and water. For example, Lusaka is located within the Kafue river basin. So we need to understand how changes in the broader surface water system &#8211; as a result of climate or other non-climate drivers &#8211; might affect water supply in Lusaka. City-regions are very integrated, complex systems with multiple actors, stressors and scales. We need to have a deep understanding of the city-region context to understand what climate information might be relevant and significant.”
As part of the project, FRACTAL has embedded researchers into offices in the cities to gain a better understanding of how governments work. The idea is that the work undertaken by these researchers is mutually beneficial for the city officials and the researchers working on the project.
“The scientists are learning about the city-region and the decision makers are learning about climate variability and change. Together, we would like to build an understanding of what climate change might look like in the future in each city.”
It means cities need to come up with tangible solutions that can adapt to the next 40 years of increasing droughts and stronger typhoons in the face of growing cities.

Africa Is Heating Up  And Not In A Good Way

It was just a few days before Christmas, but any feelings of goodwill in Maputo were smashed by the news that 36-year-old Valentina Guebuza, the daughter of former Mozambican President Armando Guebuza, died after being shot. The alleged perpetrator of the shots was her husband, Zofimo Muiuane.
The daughter of the former president was allegedly shot and died on her way to the Heart Institute hospital on December 14. After Guebuza was killed, Muiuane handed himself in at a police station in Maputo and was arrested the following day.
&#8220;The first indications we have is that this was an authentic case of domestic violence which ended, sadly, in the death of the citizen Valentina Guebuza,&#8221; says police spokesman Inacio Dina.
In 2013, Guebuza was listed as one of the 20 most powerful young women in Africa by FORBES. As a civil training engineer, Guebuza held prominent positions in the telecommunications and banking sectors and led several family businesses, namely Focus 21, Gestão e Desenvolvimento, Lda, a family investment holding company. She was also involved in fisheries, transportation, mines and real estate, and with significant participation in operations at the Port of Beira Terminal and the subscription TV company, StarTimes.
Guebuza’s rise in business was fast between 2005 and 2015 while  her father was president.
In 2007, Guebuza became a shareholder of Beira Grain Terminal. She was also a partner in the following companies: Railways of Mozambique (CFM), Cornelder de Moçambique, Nectar Mozambique, Sonipal, Seaboard Moz, Rainbow International, CFI Holdings and Merec Industries.
As chairman of the Board of Directors of StarTimes Media, a joint venture between China&#8217;s StarTimes and Focus 21, Guebuza was intrinsically involved in digital migration in Mozambique.
Civil society and private operators questioned the ability of StarTimes to carry out the work, as well as the procedure involved in awarding the company the tender.
Guebuza leaves behind a young daughter. She married Muiuane on July 26, 2014, in what was described as the ‘marriage of the year’. The wedding was attended by 1,700 guests, including the President of South Africa, Jacob Zuma, Swaziland’s King Mswati III, and the daughter of the Angola’s president, Isabel dos Santos. One year later, on July 2, 2015, they were the proud parents of a girl.
This supposedly happy story came to a tragic end on December 14.

The Sad End Of The Millionaire Princess

The rain hammered down on Maputo, as if in protest, the night the Sacred Monster died. It squalled in from the dark and rough waters of the Indian Ocean, on gusts of wind, as Mozambique mourned. It should have been gentle rain, like tears in the night, but Mario Coluna would have appreciated this mighty show of natural force over the land of his birth; after all, it was natural power and uncanny force, born in Africa, that drove the Sacred Monster to a hallowed place in world football.
Coluna could hold any football crowd in the palm of his hand; outwit any opposition in his head and launch rockets with his boots. His explosive acceleration and body strength often overpowered the world’s finest players.
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On this night, February 25, after a heart attack, Coluna lay in peace at a Maputo hospital close to the streets where he learnt the game with his father’s socks tied into a ball. He was 78, 44 years since he stopped playing, and remains one of the most determined and skilful Africans ever to lace up a pair of football boots. In this age of hyperbole, peopled by overpaid and overrated players; Coluna was a man who wore modestly the word great. His country gave him a state funeral on February 28 and declared it a public holiday.
“It is not easy to say goodbye to someone whose life was among the greatest,” Luis Filipe Viera, the president of Benfica, told the club’s official website.
“Someone whose life path is unique and whose legacy will endure far beyond him. It is said that we are born equal. Untrue! Coluna was born different, for the better, much better.”
The Portuguese journalists called him the Sacred Monster—O Monstro Sagrado—because he was both terrifying and beautiful with the ball at his feet. He helped Benfica win 10 league titles and the European Cup twice; scoring in the victories over Barcelona in 1961 and Real Madrid the following year.
The win to retain the trophy, in Amsterdam in 1962, was as much an African triumph as a European one. In goal was Alberto da Costa Pereira, from Nacala in Mozambique, the captain Jose Aguas, born in Lobito, Angola, along with Coluna and Eusebio from Maputo. Players born and bred in Africa had a hand in all five goals as Benfica came back from 2-0 down to win 5-3.
On that May evening, as Coluna smashed in a goal from 25 yards to make it 4-3, hundreds of his countrymen were listening, also far from home. In the camps in the bush of southern Tanzania, hundreds of guerrilla fighters for FRELIMO—the newly formed liberation movement for Mozambique—crowded around the radio. One of them was founder member and future president Joaquim Chissano.
“We were divided. Some of us felt Coluna was bringing glory to our country, Mozambique. Others thought he was bringing glory to our colonizers, Portugal,” says Chissano at his Maputo home, the day after Coluna died.
“He was a true leader, he was always more concerned how the team was playing rather than how he was playing. When he retired, he brought his skills back to Mozambique to help build the game here. He was truly a great man.”
Coluna played for Benfica from 1954 to 1970 and when he retired Lev Yashin, Bobby Moore, the World Cup winning captain of England, Bobby Charlton, Uwe Seeler, George Best and Denis Law played at his testimonial in Lisbon.
Coluna was born in Maputo to a Mozambique mother and Portuguese father. His father was a goalkeeper and football fanatic, who died in the stands of a heart attack while watching the club he helped to found, now known as Desportivo de Maputo. Coluna’s precocious talent shone at Desportivo and Benfica scouts spotted him and flew him to Lisbon. He played 677 times, scoring 150 goals, for Benfica. In 1966, he captained one of the greatest sides ever to play for Portugal. They called them the Magricos—the magicians—and among them were four players from Mozambique: Coluna; Eusebio; Vicente and Hilario. This talented team should have been world champions, but suffered when the semi-final was switched, at the last minute, from Liverpool to London. The Portuguese emerged exhausted from an overnight train journey and lost 2-1 to England, the eventual winners.
I was in Maputo the night the great man died. It was almost five years to the day since I was privileged to be invited into his quiet Maputo home for an interview. He was looking frail then, but I was struck by the sure-footed confidence of an athlete. I was also struck by his gentlemanly demeanor and piercing blue eyes that would smile and then flash a steely glint; just to let you know that if you faced him on a football field you wouldn’t stand a chance.
Coluna told me he played football when men were men and referees were lenient. He rolled up his trouser leg to show me an ugly criss-cross scar—a painful souvenir of a crunching tackle in Rome in the 1960s that hastened the end of his career. The defender didn’t even get a caution.
Even though they drew the crowds, the players then were paid a pittance. Coluna, a handsome gentleman, who always wore a debonair pencil moustache, would these days have made a fortune from modeling clothes.
The top players of today earn more in a month than Coluna earned in his entire career. Coluna eked out his final years on a Benfica pension, but was never bitter.
“If players are making money for the football clubs, by getting fans through the turnstiles, why shouldn’t they get good money?” Coluna asked me on that hot February afternoon in Maputo.
Money was never the spur for Coluna. In 1975, when many of his talented generation, like Pele and Franz Beckenbauer, headed to New York for the riches of the new National American Soccer League, Coluna went home. He coached Text Chimoio, a club in a small town near the border with Zimbabwe, to the first football championship of an independent Mozambique. Years later, he ran a football academy, became the head of the country’s football association as well as an MP. At the age of 74, Coluna was campaigning for Portugal to prepare in Mozambique for the 2010 World Cup over the border in South Africa, arguing that the countries shared climate and language.
Portugal ignored Coluna’s pleas and sadly the football world, to an extent, ignored his legacy and talent. I think it is a crime that the name Coluna is often forgotten in world lit by a mere mention of the name Eusebio. Both players carried the banner for African football in Europe; only one returned.
Even sadder is that, in the space of a month, both African legends have gone. Television money and the globalized game mean we will see the like of their talent again, but few African geniuses will shine so brightly and labor so hard, for so little. When African footballers everywhere lace up their boots they should think of two names for inspiration: Coluna and Eusebio, two legends, who dared to dream, from Maputo, Mozambique.

A Storm To Mourn  The Sacred Monster

It’s Friday morning, just after 8AM. A blanket of clouds fills the sky over a hot and humid morning in Mozambique’s capital, Maputo. On the pavement of Martires da Machava Avenue, everyone wants to get a newspaper but there are not enough to go around. Near the entrance to the yard, a knot of people tussle over a diminishing pack of newspapers.
A few minutes later, an old man dressed in a grey suit pulls up in a silver Range Rover Sport to jump out and grab his newspaper.
This happens every Friday because in Maputo, everyone wants to know. Verdade, which means the truth in Portuguese, is a free newspaper in more ways than one. It is a newspaper that often criticizes and upsets the authorities.
On this particular Friday, the paper publishes comments written by readers on a wall outside the Verdade offices, saying the people are not happy the president of the Democratic Movement for Mozambique, Daviz Simango, won the municipal elections.
Erik Charas, an electrical and mechanical engineer turned entrepreneur, started Verdade six years ago, which appears to be flourishing in a world where newspapers are dying. Verdade is Mozambique’s best read newspaper.
Charas believes that Verdade can be a tool of change in his country’s fight against poverty.
“I thought I’d do greater good for my country than contributing to the bottom line of a company,” says Charas.
Unlike many developed countries where information flows like water, in Mozambique newspapers are expensive and scarce.
Verdade skirts politics and concentrates on the issues of the people: electricity prices; crime; HIV/AIDs and bread subsidies. It receives about 5,000 SMSes a month for a section that focuses on sex and health. The paper also touches on entertainment, nightlife and lifestyle in Maputo.
What also makes this newspaper popular is that it publishes Facebook comments from its readers.
Charas is an unlikely newspaper baron. After leaving his engineering job, he went on to teach at a university in Mozambique before spending nine years at the Graça Machel Foundation.
He left the foundation to try and fail as an entrepreneur. His stint at the foundation was successful and he was signing million-dollar cheques for the projects it ran. He left without having any plan whatsoever.
He launched his own company with various sub-companies within it, including infrastructure, telecoms, finance and transportation. He founded Verdade in 2008 with around $500,000 that he had raised from previous business ventures and private investments.
Verdade appeared to be an outlandish idea, but exploited a loophole in the market left by official and government newspapers, which are not popular with the people.
When it was launched, Charas says the goal was to reach around 50% of the literate population in six years, but sights had to be lowered. There are roughly 12 million people in Mozambique who can read and write. However, according to Charas, Verdade is read by a mere million people, 10 times more than any other official newspaper in Mozambique.
Back at Martires da Machava Avenue, workers distribute newspapers from a garage at the back of a house where 10 journalists work. Verdade workers hand out around 5,000 copies from the pavement outside. Fifty drivers deliver the paper across the country using bright yellow txopelas (tuk-tuks) in Verdade branding. About 2,000 copies are delivered in Nampula; Quelimane receives about 1,000; Pemba 200 and 100 in Bilene. About 1,300 newspapers are flown to Chimoio and Inhambane.
In some of these cities, the paper is distributed on street corners and bus stops.
It hasn’t all been smooth sailing for this popular newspaper. In 2013, Verdade saw sales dropping and experienced a loss of 20% in advertising renewals.
“A lot of our renewals say they got calls from officials saying ‘oh you can’t advertise in that paper—it gets critical’,” says Charas.
The print run was cut from 50,000 to 20,000.
“We want to print more papers for the rural areas, rather than for the city dwellers who have internet and can access the newspaper using their phones,” he says.
As for the future? Charas says they would like to associate Verdade with advertisements that people trust and do not give a false message. The 32-paged newspaper has almost no advertisements. Charas says newspaper ads will only get the thumbs up once they have gone through screening for truthfulness in its message.
Charas says he would only like to associate the newspaper with advertising that is truthful because readers trust and believe in the Verdade brand, which he says is linked to advertising.
“We are taking the trust our readers have put in us to a new stage. And you might ask us why… We’ve built a very strong brand that people trust and identify with… People look at it beyond just a newspaper title. It’s part of their voice and people contribute to it.”
“We’re taking responsibility of knowing that if I say that this water is good for you, people will totally trust that and move in mass towards one product or one process. We’ve seen that with the elections. We measured it. We went through the process of doing research about it. We worked with Paul Collier from Oxford University. They did research on the impact of information that gets carried through our newspaper [and the effect it] has on people’s actions and you could tell that [Verdade] really does&#8230;,” says Charas.
Another exciting venture is that the company bought a huge printer in northern Mozambique, which is part of the expansion for Verdade. The people in this part of the country often threaten Verdade employees, demanding the right to know the truth. The paper is currently printed in Nelspruit, South Africa.
Despite the harassment to advertisers and nearly losing revenues through advertising that could force the newspaper to shut down, Charas says Verdade will not go down without a fight.
“If we have to sink while telling the truth, so be it,” he says.

The Truth Hurts

It is a hot and noisy afternoon in a house in Maputo, Mozambique, where around 50 people are celebrating a birthday. Most have one thing in common: they hail from the islands of Cape Verde—a nation with a mere 500,000 people, fewer than Soweto in Johannesburg. They drink Grogue and Ponche the tipple of their ancestors. On the table is Queijo de Cabra (goat cheese) and doce de côco (coconut candy with sweet jelly).
Mozambique is home to around 1,500 people from Cape Verde. Many were born here after their parents fled hard times decades ago. In 2012, they have had something to shout about as their team qualified, against the odds, for the African Cup of Nations in South Africa in January.
<div id="attachment_1491" style="width: 310px" class="wp-caption alignleft"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-1491" class="size-medium wp-image-1491" src="/wp-content/uploads/2017/04/000026743-300x202.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="202" />The Royal Bafokeng Sports Palace. North West Province. South Africa.</div>
One of the party-goers, Maria da Conceição Silva, came to Mozambique with her parents in 1948 when a drought in Cape Verde forced thousands to flee the island. Today she is the vice-president of the Associação Cabo-verdianos em Moçambique.
“The plan is to fill two machibombos [buses] with Cape Verdeans and friends of Cape Verdeans, and drive to the financial capital of South Africa,” she says.
“I did believe this would come one day and that it could have happened before, had it not been for the fact that many of Cape Verdeans’ sons living in Portugal choose to play for the Portuguese national team,” says another ex-patriate from Cape Verde.
The archipelago, just off the coast of Ghana, is made up of 10 islands. Most people live in the capital city, Praia. Cape Verde was ranked second in the Mo Ibrahim Index of African Governance, an indication that the islands are well-run; it is backed by high literacy levels of 70% across the population.
The national team is called the Tubaroes Azul—Blue Sharks—and is coached by Lúcio Antunes, an air traffic controller who has taken leave to coach the team. The team is ranked 51 on the FIFA rankings—above South Africa, Senegal, Cameroon and Morocco.
Ninety percent of the players play in the lower leagues of Europe. The star players are 22-year-old Ryan Mendes who is in the books of Lille OSC in France and veteran striker Lito, who is based at Portimonense, a second division side in Portugal.
In Cape Verde, football plays second fiddle to basketball. A mere handful of fans waited until the wee hours to welcome the team at Nelson Mandela International Airport, in Praia, after their victory in Cameroon.
Cape Verde is not the only surprise qualifier. Known more for their long-distance runners, the sleeping giants, Ethiopia, have made it back to the tournament after 30 years. Ethiopian Ambassador to South Africa, Yeshimebrat Mersha, believes the nation is on its way to reclaim their rightful place.
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“Ethiopia was one of the strongest football nations previously. We are really happy that we are back on track. This is the result of the development plans by the government and good organization by the football federation,” Mersha says.
“We have high expectations for the cup and are ready for the matches. The fans are eager to watch the matches and some of them will travel from Ethiopia to support the team.”
Africa’s second most-populous nation, with 85 million people, had become conspicuous by its absence. Ethiopia was a founding member of the Nations Cup when they were part of the group of nations that formed the Confederation of African football (CAF) in 1957 in Khartoum, Sudan.
The Walya Antelopes are coached by Sewnet Bishaw and have two powerful strikers. Former Orlando Pirates player Fikru Tefera is a bustling striker any defender will struggle to handle. The man to watch is Saladin Seid, who scored the first goal in the final qualifier match against Sudan. He is currently in the books of Wadi Degla in the Egyptian Premier League who paid $200,000 for him.
Neither of the nations is expected to win the tournament ahead of the likes of Ghana, Nigeria, Morocco, Ivory Coast and defending champions Zambia. It will not be too much of a surprise if they cause an upset or two. After all, they did not make it to the continent’s premier football competition by sheer luck alone. Be afraid, be very afraid.
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Cape Where?

It is one of the great economic stories of Africa. When Mozambique gained independence from Portugal in 1975 it was one of the world’s poorest countries. Two years later, it was even poorer in the grips of a civil war which ended in 1992.
Thirty seven years after independence, the southeast African country is booming. Joana Prata Dias Teixeira Duarte, her husband, João Alberty and his cousin Miguel, are three entrepreneurs who are taking advantage of this by putting their shoulder to the wheel in the country’s grassroots growth.
The trio, of Portuguese descent, started up Sociedade Moçambicana de Participações (SMP), based in downtown Maputo, in November.
Already SMP holds stakes in several companies from construction to furniture and media to telecommunications. Mozambique is abound with investment and business opportunities. The country’s GDP is increasing and 38% of its population lives in cities, with this number growing every day. Maputo, the capital city, has a population of 1.5 million.
For the first time in decades, Maputo’s skyline is dominated by swinging construction cranes. New buildings are going up on every corner. If Mozambique needs anything more than food and water, it is bricks and mortar. This hunger to fill Mozambique’s infrastructure gap has seen a dramatic increase in foreign investment. In 2005, foreign investment in Mozambique was worth $108 million, by 2007, this figure more than trebled to $427 million. In 2010, foreign investment stood at $789 million.
This trio of spring entrepreneurs are doing their bit to contribute to this urbanization through construction company Mozago. They have built offices for Millennium bim Bank among others.
“Mozago is our money cow,” says João Alberty.
It’s not just new buildings. João believes that there is also a lucrative market in renovating buildings. This is for posterity as well as profit.
Mozago is renovating a building by the famous Portuguese architect Pancho Miranda Guedes, who designed hundreds of buildings—hotels, schools, colleges, churches, banks, restaurants and apartments—in Mozambique between 1950 and 1974.
João believes that there is a market in renovating the buildings of Guedes. The one they are working on at the moment will be a hotel. They are also renovating a warehouse in central Maputo, on the way to the airport, which will be their new headquarters.
They provide a service where there is a demand. Alongside the construction and renovation side of the business, SMP also focuses on interiors through another branch of the company—Intersection. The company specializes in office design and furniture and represents Haworth, a worldwide office furniture company. Intersection recently designed the interior of and furnished Nestlé’s new offices in downtown Maputo and will do the same for Mimmos—a nationwide chain—at the new Zimpeto shopping mall.
Mozambique’s growth and development is the company’s playground, while it is still a young company itself, it hopes to expand just as quickly. The company is also powering up and connecting the country through Antolux, which specializes in the installation of low and medium tension power networks, where they are most needed, in the provinces. Its focus also lies in telecommunication networks and solutions.
The trio sees opportunity where others might see despair. The coastal nation is often plagued by floods through tropical cyclones, which often sees the country divided and certain cities cut off. In 2000, Mozambique was declared a disaster zone that led to a major aid operation. Many towns were submerged completely and a mother was forced to give birth in a tree above the rising flood waters.
This is one of the perennial problems of Mozambique that these entrepreneurs hope to do business by easing. Many of the country’s bridges are flimsy and poorly maintained.
Edgar Cardoso Mozambique, of which SMP now has a major stake—is a company that specializes in maintenance and rehabilitation of bridges.
Then there is media. Exame Mozambique is yet another of their ventures. This Lusophone business magazine reports on the macroeconomics of the country as well as financial issues, business ventures, investments, consumption, technology and marketing. While the brand belongs to Editora Abril, a major Brazilian publisher and printing company based in São Paulo, SMP owns the project in Mozambique. This monthly magazine, which was launched in June and recently published its fourth issue, is sold in Maputo and Portugal—a large number of Portuguese nationals still seek employment in the country.
Duarte, of Portuguese descent, was born in Mozambique and is the driving force behind the magazine as regulations says media companies can be opened by Mozambican nationals only.
The Alberty cousins had visited Mozambique, from Portugal, on many occasions, before finally making it their new home.
The company sees this investment in the media as prestige to go with the building bricks and mortar.
“We have gotten really good feedback from our readers and the CEOs of companies we have featured. It is bigger than our expectations were for it in the beginning. The people here are looking for something that we offer. We use technical information and put it in a way that everyone can understand it,” says Luis Leitão, editor of Exame Mozambique.
João says that the magazine is forward looking and very deliberately chooses to cover the success of businesses.
“We are perceived by the readers and other businesses in a positive way,” he says.
As Meticais changes hands with the rise of their current enterprises, there is another new company in the making. João said it has got nothing to do with the other ventures and hinted that it is related to the beauty and wellbeing sector.
When Duarte isn’t doing business, she is trying her hand at golf. According to João, her mother’s side of the family has quite a reputation at the Maputo golf course where their trophies are on display. Duarte wants to maintain that proud tradition.
On the golf course trophies are the reward for Duarte reducing her handicap. In the business world contracts are the reward for her part in helping to rebuild the country of her birth.

Development To The  Power Of Three

It doesn’t matter how many capital cities you have flown into; the descent into Maputo never fails to impress. It is a breath-taking expanse of wide, deep water flowing into the Indian Ocean, 92km long and 32km wide, that sparkles in the sun. When Portuguese navigator, Lourenço Marques, surveyed the bay in 1544, on behalf of his seafaring country, tears of joy must have welled up in his eyes. Maputo is a perfect natural harbor made for ships. Marques laid the foundations for the port and lent his name to the colonial city that grew up.
The mouth of the harbor is hemmed in by banks thick with bush, and the blue waters lead right up to the city of Maputo, perched on a ledge of rock above the cranes, palm trees and funnels of the mighty ships in dock. Offshore tankers from Namibia to New York line up for their turn at the quayside.
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They say in Maputo you are never far from the port, and in many ways it dominates the city, home to two million people. It helped pay for the high-rise concrete buildings of this rich city center—or “cemento”, as it is called in Maputo—but for many years it was failing.
In the early years of this century, the port was crumbling to dust after decades of neglect. By 2003, the roads to the port, once among the busiest in Africa, were strewn with rubble. There was barely enough working equipment to load the dwindling amount of cargo. Hundreds of idle casual dock workers lounged by the waterfront waiting for jobs that would never come.
It is a sign of changing economic times in Maputo that private business has been allowed to ride to the rescue with the dash of Zorro. The government of Mozambique invited Grindrod—Africa’s largest shipping company—from South Africa, and DP World, from Dubai, to operate the harbor in return for a stake each.
The turnaround was dramatic.  The number of ships docking in Maputo has doubled, compared to 2003, to more than a thousand-a-year. Coal exports have more than doubled to four million tons and chrome exports are set to reach two million tons this year—five times what they were in 2003. The port is reopening rapidly to trade and now handles everything from citrus fruit to steel from neighboring Zimbabwe.
The change in fortunes, for this key piece of infrastructure, couldn’t have come at a better time to support the rising economic fortunes of Mozambique. The Moatize coalfields, in the north-west corner of the country, are set for a boom; gas has been discovered on the northern coast of Mozambique and BHP Billiton’s Mozal smelter in Matola, south of the capital, is churning out aluminum for export. Rio Tinto has been buying up coal mining assets to add to its international portfolio.
Maputo millionaire Venancio Matusse, an engineer by trade, is one of 42 shareholders in the consultancy, Mozambique Gestores, which manages the port and owns 3% of the free carry business. He said the port is investing $800 million in security and dredging the channel leading to the docks to make way for the big ships. The Maputo River empties into the bay, bringing with it tons of silt that choke the channel.
“A lot of money needs to be spent on the dredging; it is a job that almost never ends,” says Matusse.
“Now the port has all the equipment it needs, but still needs to grow. We need to earn more of the container cargo market because that is where the money is. One challenge is the time goods take to go through the port inspection side. You can take three or four days to clear your goods and that costs money.”
Fernando Lima, a veteran journalist in Maputo, agrees that the port has a long way to go.
“If you look at the container terminal, it is completely congested. Grindrod has attracted a lot of business and now the terminal is facing serious problems of congestion,” he says.
“There is also a problem with bureaucracy, especially when it comes to customs. Delays mean you are losing money as an importer or exporter, which is bad when you have to compete with Richards Bay and Durban in South Africa.”
Even so, millions of dollars are
flowing into infrastructure at the port and another school of thought is that exporters from South Africa—struggling against high cost and a lack of rails at home—could be looking towards Maputo. Either way, to borrow from the words of American writer Mark Twain: reports of the demise of the Port of Maputo have been greatly exaggerated.

The Port That Came  Back From The Dead

On May 2, it will be exactly half a century since a bunch of highly talented African footballers led Portuguese giants Benfica in the thrashing of Real Madrid 5-3 to retain the European Cup.
It was a dynamic team with an African heart. The captain was from Angola, the goalkeeper, midfield general and striker were all from Mozambique. Arguably, the most talented of all, nicknamed The Sacred Monster, was a midfield genius who had fought his way up from the streets of Maputo. Another of the players rejoiced in the name, The Black Panther. A dream for an advertising copywriter or a public relations executive, surely?
In June, it will be two years since the FIFA World Cup kicked off in South Africa. Since then, there has been a lot of talk about how Africa could sell itself, its football and folklore. After all, the football fans of the continent appear to buy enthusiastically into the plastic razzmatazz around European football, with its endless programs and promos on satellite TV. At football grounds across Europe, there are statues and pictures of the famed players of the past, many of whom may not have even made it into the Benfica team that mauled Real Madrid in 1962.
<div id="attachment_690" style="width: 484px" class="wp-caption alignleft"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-690" class="size-large wp-image-690" src="/wp-content/uploads/2017/04/DSC00350-1024x768.jpg" alt="" width="474" height="356" />Captain José Águas and Mário Coluna celebrate beating Barcelona in 1962</div>
The question is: why doesn’t Africa celebrate its heroes and rich history with such vigor?
Now, any advertising wizard worth their salt, with a yen to market African football, could do a lot worse than start with the story of the four African musketeers of Benfica in 1962. What a quartet they were: José Águas, the captain, was born and bred in Luanda; goalkeeper Alberto da Costa Pereira was born in the tiny Mozambique port of Nacala and learned his football at Ferroviario in Maputo; Eusébio—The Black Panther—dribbled his way through the dust of the streets of Maputo to an international career with Portugal, scoring 733 goals in 745 competitive games.
Last, but certainly not least, the tough and intelligent midfield schemer, Mário Coluna. Like Eusébio, Coluna learned to fake, dribble, trap and pass on a patch of sand in the Maputo township of Mafalala—a piece of ground that survives until this day and is still full of barefoot youngsters kicking a ball. I can almost hear an advertising executive thinking about this one.
A Portuguese sports journalist dubbed Coluna ‘O Monstro Sagrado’—The Sacred Monster—because he said the player was both terrifying and beautiful. Surely, only a Latin romantic, a journalist to boot, could have come up with a name as evocative.
Coluna, who had the sleek and robust physique of a light-heavyweight boxer, scored one and laid on another on the night Benfica trounced Real Madrid in Amsterdam. He outwitted Real, who had legends Puskás and Di Stéfano in their side. The year before, Coluna had scored with a blinding long-range volley as Benfica beat Barcelona 3-2, in Bern, to win the cup for the first time. Coluna celebrated, stripped to his waist, with trophy in hand, alongside his captain and fellow African, Águas. It is a picture that hangs in pride of place on the wall of his Maputo home to this day.
In the prime of his career, Coluna went on to lead the famous Magricios, considered to be one of Portugal’s finest teams, to the 1966 World Cup in England. In that famous team were two more men from Mozambique, Vicente and Hilário. In those days, colonial Portugal saw Mozambique and Angola as its overseas provinces and players from these countries were considered Portuguese. All were African right down to their boots.
Eusébio was top scorer in the tournament, with nine goals. Arguably, Portugal should have won the World Cup for the first time in their history in 1966. The team suffered through a touch of home town favoritism from the organizers. The semi-final against England was supposed to have been played in Liverpool, but was switched by the English organizers to Wembley in London at the last minute—despite the fact that it had been agreed it was unfair to allow the home country to play all of its games at the national stadium. It meant Portugal had to travel down by train overnight.
“We didn’t get any sleep on the train. We were so tired when we got to London, we could hardly play,” Coluna once told me in the suburbs of Maputo.
Despite this, England won by a 2-1 whisker, with Eusébio scoring a penalty in reply.  Just imagine the indignation and weeks of headlines if a similar trick had been pulled in 2010.
Which brings me back to my point; when I read the other week that Eusébio had been ill in hospital in Lisbon, it occurred to me how little we hear of these former legends, while the television in the corner prattles on about other players not fit to lace their boots.
All of the Africans mentioned above made it when football was a game for men-of-men—hard men-of-men, for that matter. Coluna, who played 677 times for Benfica, showed me a huge, ugly scar below his right knee, a souvenir of a night in Rome in 1968 when an Italian defender crushed his ligaments. The referee didn’t even caution the defender, such was the violence of the game in those days.
“The doctor said I would never play again, but I knew better,” Coluna told me.
On top of that, most of these African soccer heroes lived lives steeped in the game. Coluna used to pinch his dad’s socks to make a ball to kick around the Maputo streets. His father, shopkeeper José Mário Esteves Coluna, was a goalkeeper and founder of Coluna’s team, Desportivo de Maputo. He died, from a heart attack, while watching his beloved club in 1959.
Coluna came back to Mozambique in 1975 and coached a small town club, Textafrica in Chimoio, for the country’s first ever championship in the newly independent nation. He served with distinction as a parliamentarian and football administrator. Benfica still sends him a pension in euros.
My point is that African footballers like these should be celebrated by the continent as a way to market the game and encourage the youth of the continent to excel in it. Their names and deeds should be used in advertisements, splashed over posters and plastered on the sides of buses.  Statues should be built and their names known the length and breadth of the continent.
When you have a compelling human interest story attached to a name like The Sacred Monster or Black Panther, who needs an advertising copywriter to write a catchy slogan to market the game?

Selling The Sacred Monster And Black Panther Should Be Easy

It’s a warm, overcast, spring afternoon in Julius Nyerere Avenue in the heart of Maputo amid the hooters and rattle of people driving home from work through the potholes. On the side of the road in front of brand spanking new bank headquarters, a group of urbane bankers chat quietly and shift from foot to foot in expectation.
The building used to be a hotel as rundown as the streets that run by it. “This was a ruin; now look at it,” says one of the senior managers proudly. A small curious crowd has gathered. The word is out that one of the richest men in the world is about to arrive. A car sweeps in like a summer breeze off Maputo Bay; a group of people jump out. “Which one is he?” says someone nearby.
<div id="attachment_147" style="width: 484px" class="wp-caption alignleft"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-147" class="size-large wp-image-147" src="/wp-content/uploads/2017/04/290-647-1024x683.jpg" alt="" width="474" height="316" />Banco Unico branch in Maputo, Mozambique; 15 September 2011 &#8211; Photo by Brett Eloff.</div>
Closing the door behind him is the man himself, dressed in grey suit, with a red-striped shirt and matching tie; Américo Amorim—the 212th richest man on earth, according to FORBES in 2010, worth an estimated $4 billion. With a gentle smile and handshake, he blends into the waiting crowd of bankers and could be one of them. If you are looking for a billionaire who wears his eminence lightly, look no further than this man; a man who not only admires Nelson Mandela, but also appears to subscribe to the great man’s approach to humility.
Make no mistake, there is an iron will behind the smile and a reputation in Maputo—born of his latest deal—as a tough negotiator. Amorim, who made a fortune from putting corks into the world’s bottles, was in Maputo to see where a chunk of his fortune has gone. The 77-year-old entrepreneur’s empire is in a joint venture with Portuguese conglomerate Visabeira, which owns 61% of Mozambique’s newest bank, Banco Unico, which has opened in Maputo with $20 million in initial equity share capital. The remainder, aside from a small stake for management, is owned by Mozambique-based private companies and pension funds.
<div id="attachment_166" style="width: 484px" class="wp-caption alignright"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-166" class="wp-image-166 size-large" src="/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/290-76-683x1024.jpg" alt="" width="474" height="711" />High-rise construction in Maputo, Mozambique; 14 September 2011 &#8211; Photo by Brett Eloff.</div>
Amorim, speaking through aninterpreter, is not fazed by his lofty FORBES ranking: “I am indifferent to that. My passion is to build companies&#8230; My happiness is to be busy.” Amorim has certainly been busy for almost his entire adult life. He took over the management of the family cork business at the tenderage of 18, when his parents died; from that moment, according to his close colleagues, Amorim has worked at least 12 hours a day in more than half a century as an entrepreneur. The Amorim Group has its roots in a small family cork business started by Amorim’s grandfather in 1870. The business is based in the tiny town of Mozelos, 19 kilometers from Porto, near the Portuguese forests, which hold more than half of the world’s cork. The young Amorim took to the family business with a will and travelled the world to sell cork.
In 1958, he journeyed to the then unfashionable Soviet Union and Eastern Bloc to strike deals. It made his company Portugal’s biggest exporter to Eastern Europe. In 1962, Amorim invested 75,000 euros ($102,000) in the business, to modernize and mechanize; the company consolidated cork production in Portugal and down the years expanded into Spain, Tunisia, Morocco, Algeria and Sardinia.
Nearly 60 years on from the young Amorim’s first day in the office, the family empire declared sales of 457 million euros ($621 million) in April and posted profits of 20.5 million euros ($27.8 million) for 2010. The company is the world’s largest manufacturer of corks, making three billion a year. One in four corks popped around the globe is made by Amorim’s company. Like the corks, Amorim’s investments have also popped up far and wide, including: 33.44 % of GALP, Portugal’s energy company; a share in Spain’s third largest  financial institution, Banco
Popular; and in BIC, a commercial bank in Angola. Despite this vast wealth, Amorim has no time for fast boats and private jets—corks are his business and passion. In fact, rare passion flows in the interview when the thorny subject of plastic bottle stoppers comes up. “Plastic is not appropriate for wine.
Nature never spoils. The champagne industry has been in existence for 320 years and it has never stopped using corks. Corks are always preferred by people with good taste. It (plastic stoppers) is a bad taste idea,” he says. So why is this man, with a passion for corks, throwing millions into Mozambique’s often uncertain banking sector with its past allegations of corruption? Legendary investigative journalist Carlos Cardoso was gunned down in a Maputo street in 2000 while at the heart of an investigation into corruption in banking in Mozambique.
<div id="attachment_167" style="width: 484px" class="wp-caption alignleft"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-167" class="size-large wp-image-167" src="/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/290-289-1024x683.jpg" alt="" width="474" height="316" />Portuguese billionaire &amp; majority shareholder of newly launched Banco Unico, celebrates the opening of the bank&#8217;s headquarters in Maputo, Mozambique; 14 September 2011 &#8211; Photo by Brett Eloff.</div>
A lot has changed in the last 10 years, but there is still talk among sources in the know in Maputo of murky goings on in the banks. But Amorim is unconcerned. “I don’t consider Mozambique a risk. It has stability and its institutions are functioning. It is a rich country with a lot of raw materials and minerals… I have investments in 37 countries around the world, including Europe, and even there, there is corruption. It’s not a thing that bothers me.” The rewards for risk in Mozambique could be high for those with light feet and an eye for a fast return. In the week that Amorim landed in Maputo, the first coal exports from the mighty Moatize project, near Tete in the north-west corner of the country, was railed down the Sena railway line and exported through the northern port of Beira.
The Moatize expects to ramp up to four million tons of thermal coal a year, for electricity production. It has a target of 52 million tons by 2026, according to consultants working on the project. On top of this, BHP Billiton runs the Mozal smelter, just to the south of Maputo; South African energy giant Sasol is investing $300 million into the Pande gas field 600km north east of the capital. In Maputo itself, foreign investors have brought the swinging construction cranes back to the skyline as they build offices and homes for the newly wealthy.
Mozambique, once the poorestcountry in the world, where less than two decades ago even food was scarce, is growing fast and the financial industry is growing with it.
A report by KPMG in 2009 said the banks of Mozambique were highly profitable, despite the international financial crisis, seeing a profit of $116.4 million for the year, up 17.9% on 2008. Revenue from loans grew by 13.3% and bad debts were less than 2%. New anti-corruption laws are on the way, even though they are greeted with scepticism by many Mozambican business people. “It will exist only on paper,” chuckled a young Mozambican entrepreneur over a beer in a nearby restaurant.
One Mozambican who is bullish about his economy, to say the least, is Joao Figueiredo, the home-grown CEO One of the many cranes operating in the heart of Maputo of Banco Unico. He predicts that the economy will grow at 10.5% by 2013, compared to the current growth of 6.6%. Even so, Banco Unico could struggle to lend in the early days in the face of high interest rates. The International Monetary Fund is urging Mozambique to keep a tight monetary policy to fight inflation of around 12.8%, even at the risk of a slowdown in the economy.
Despite this, the repo rate came down in August, but before anyone got too excited, it went down to 16%. Couldn’t this be a problem for the new bank on the block? Not exactly, says Figueiredo. “When you look at the market you have to look beyond the short term to the long-term possibilities of Mozambique… The economy appreciates in terms of long-term. There is potential for the future, especially in the mining sector. The stability of the inflation rate and itsdecrease from the beginning of the year is a good sign.” Banco Unico is trying a different approach to break into a market which is dominated by four major banks. Its branches are all designer furniture and soft background music, more airport lounge than bank; there are no queues and there’s coffee while you wait for your consultant to deal with you one-on-one.
It is clear that the bank is aimed at the moneyed middle class, which, the cynics point out, excludes most of the population. Fernando Lima, a veteran Maputo journalist, says: “There are inefficiencies in the banks here. They are expanding but don’t have the human resources to keep pace. There is a lot of poaching of top staff. People also want to see more competition among the banks.” Figueiredo says: “The four biggest banks have 90.2% of the market. It is a concentrated market. There is competition, but there is room for more.
Room to grow as a financial system… The system is not yet mature and that contribution we can give to the market. There is space for more banks, but there are things you need to know before coming to Mozambique. You can’t come with foreign concepts because they won’t work here.” Banco Unico plans to go regional in the future; it appears the world’s 212th richest billionaire is in for the long haul. The interviews in the offices overlooking Maputo harbor, conducted to the crash of waves below, are over. It is night now and the many colored lights of the ships in the harbor shine forth like beacons.
As I thank Amorim for his time and patience he says, through the translator: “You don’t get tired when you love what you do.” For now, Amorim loves putting foreign direct investment into Mozambique, an emerging economy that needs it more than most.

Popping Millions Into Mozambique

Just over the road from the newest bank in Mozambique, a would-be tycoon was nurturing his dream to the clatter of knives, forks and glasses. It was a warm, busy Maputo night in a packed Mundos, on Julius Nyerere Avenue; Portuguese football giants, Benfica, played Manchester United on television.
<div id="attachment_169" style="width: 484px" class="wp-caption alignleft"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-169" class="size-large wp-image-169" src="/wp-content/uploads/2017/04/290-564-1024x683.jpg" alt="" width="474" height="316" />Mundo&#8217;s owner Albert Hechter, Maputo, Mozambique; 14 September 2011 &#8211; Photo by Brett Eloff.</div>
The tray-bearing waiters waltzed through the crowded bar with a fleet-footedness worthy of Wayne Rooney; the cold beer flowed down scores of throats with the ease of Ashley Young gliding down the wing. It ought to: this bar is the biggest retailer of beer in Mozambique selling 15,000 liters a month. In the middle of it all, the ready grin of mine host, Albert Hechter, a man who risked all 20 years ago and reaped a fortune.
“I could sell it for a million dollars now, but I won’t,” says Hechter breezily through the cackle of carousing patrons. It’s an entrepreneurial story that began in 1990 in the last days of a bitter civil war in Mozambique. Hechter arrived in the country to work in a hotel and left with an idea. “There weren’t even any cars on the road in Maputo in those days. But also, there were no restaurants or takeaways either,” says Hechter.
Towards the end of 1991, Hechter scraped together R15,000 ($1,900) in South Africa to buy two hot dog vans and drove north for the border. It was a huge step for Hechter, an Afrikaner from conservative Pretoria—a city where a big trip was a night out in Johannesburg. “Everyone thought I was mad! The war was still on in Mozambique. But I was 20 years old and had big balls.”
On arrival in Maputo, he parked one hot dog van on the beachfront and the other in Kenneth Kaunda Avenue, near to the foreign embassies. Sure enough, the idea bore fruit and within weeks there were snaking queues along the beach and around the embassies. Diplomats tore themselves away from foreign affairs to send their drivers to buy the only hot dog with mustard in Mozambique.
A year later, Hechter borrowed R70,000 ($8,900) from his dad in Pretoria to buy a snack bar in downtown Maputo—the forebear of Mundos. These were busy and lucrative times for those who had the wherewithal to put up any form of refreshment or entertainment in bleak post war Maputo. The city may have been a rundown shadow of itself, but UN peacekeeping troops were in town and the US dollars swirled like a cloud of confetti around sparse entertainment hot spots. Hechter made a little pile and in 1994 left Mozambique to go traveling for a year. He arrived back in South Africa, just in time see his country win the 1995 Rugby World Cup, but found the bite of the Mozambique business bug as hard to shrug off as a Maputo mosquito.
So, by 1996, he was back in Maputo to build a new Mundos, this time on Julius Nyerere Avenue, in a building rented from the Catholic Church. He started with 40 seats and in 15 years, he has built it into a thriving watering hole with 370 seats. Every night, tourists, diplomats, businesspeople, pilots, engineers, soldiers, ex-soldiers and aid workers rub shoulders at the bar; you don’t have to enjoy a drink to enjoy the atmosphere, but it helps. In Mundos, I once met an English accent educated direct descendant of Archduke Franz Ferdinand—the Austrian heir to the throne whose assassination in Sarajevo sparked World War I. I pointed out that many of my family had perished in that war.
“Oh, I am terribly sorry about that,” he said in a very cut glass English accent. We both laughed. You see what I mean about drink. The bar used to be full of South Africans and expats from New York to Nigeria, but times are changing fast. Hechter reckons 80% of his customers are now middleclass Mozambicans with money to spend. “Most South Africans I see here now are builders looking for work.”
Above the din of the crowded bar, he said the recession appears to have passed Maputo by. “You go into the bars in Maputo and they are still packed. People in Mozambique don’t have the car and health payments that, say, South Africans do, so people have money to spend. The city is booming, rents are going up to between $3,000 and $4,000 a month. It is almost back to the days of UNiMOZ (when United Nations troops packed the city and paid premium rents). There are five construction cranes within one kilometer of this bar.” For the affable Hechter, the blue sky, over the palm fringed Maputo Harbor, is the limit as far as Mozambique’s economic fortunes are concerned.
His wife and children live over the border in South Africa, in Nelspruit, and he divides his time between Maputo and home—leading to the inevitable question over whether the next generation of the Hechters will be charging over the border into the exhilarating, heady uncertainty of Mozambique’s dynamic emerging economy. “I wouldn’t allow my kids to do it,” says Hechter with that wide smile that sold a million beers in Mozambique.
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Tag: Maputo

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Development To The Power Of Three

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Selling The Sacred Monster And Black Panther Should Be Easy

Popping Millions Into Mozambique

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