Mozambique’s rich religious heritage is evidenced by a
string of centuries-old churches, many of which have fallen into a chronic
state of disrepair. But, as Philip Briggs discovers, they reveal much about the
country’s history.
Africa is nosing around musty old European churches. And yet
this very pastime became something of a regular ritual during the recent period
we spent exploring the former Portuguese colony of Mozambique.
For
some, Mozambique still conjures up images of the civil war that lasted almost
from the time of independence in 1975 until the signing of the Rome Peace
Accord in 1992. For others, in particular South Africans, Mozambique evokes
lazy daydreams of pristine beaches and plates of fresh seafood.
But
few are aware that this maritime nation once lay at the heart of the Indian
Ocean gold trade, settled first by Muslim merchants and later by Portuguese
navigators centuries before Jan Van Riebeeck set anchor at the Cape of Good
Hope.
No visible traces of Mozambique’s ancient Muslim
settlements remain, but you cannot spend much time in the ports of Mozambique
without becoming conscious of the physical legacy of the Portuguese who usurped
them in 1505. And no great surprise, really, that many of the most eye-catching
monuments left behind by these pious upstarts from Lisbon are of the
ecclesiastical variety.
The Church of Nossa Senhora Baluarte on Ilha
da Mozambique is not the grandest of churches, but it does hold the distinction
of being the oldest standing European building in the southern hemisphere,
little altered since it was built in 1522. Senhora Baluarte is one of only two
buildings on Ilha da Mozambique to have survived Dutch occupations of the
island in 1607 and 1608. The other is the Fortress of Sao Sebastao, within
whose imposing stone walls the church is protected, and without which the
Portuguese influence in East Africa might well have ceased altogether in the
early seventeenth century.
Several decades back, the eminent
archaeologist James Kirkman wrote that Senhora Baluarte boasted several
striking gargoyles as well as an attractive Manoeline frieze above the
entrance. We saw no traces of these decorations in the church, which has fallen
into disuse and is lamentably decrepid, but we were able to blow away the dust
on the stone floor to reveal the plaque dedicated to the Portuguese Bishop of
Japan, laid to rest here in 1588.
As the capital of Portuguese East
Africa from 1530 to 1898, Ilha da Mozambique boasts many churches of historical
note. There is the brick-red Church of Sao Paulo, built as a Jesuit College in
1619, converted to be the governor’s residence in 1763, now an absorbing
museum. Next door to the former palace, the Church of Misercordia dates from
the year 1700, while the Church of Senhora Suade has stood on the southern tip
of the island since 1633.
A youngster by comparison, the late
eighteenth century Catholic Cathedral lies on a palm-fringed beach where Muslim
shipbuilders still practice the craft for which Ilha da Mozambique has been
famed since mediaeval times.
The age of some less celebrated
Mozambican churches is difficult to establish. When we visited the sleepy
island of Ibo in the Querimba Archipelago, we assumed that the large
whitewashed Church of Senhora Rosario, like architecturally similar cathedrals
in Quelimane and Inhambane, dated from the mid-eighteenth century. Later, I
read that this church was built in 1580, a story which I’ve been unable to
confirm. However, it does tie in with Dominican records, quoted in Malyn
Newitt’s excellent History of Mozambique, claiming that 16,000 converts
were made on the Querimbas before 1593.
Likewise, I’ve yet to
come across any evidence to suggest whether or not the disused church in the
crumbling old quarter of the Zambezi port of Tete is the same church that was
built by Portuguese settlers in 1563.
While the north coast of
Mozambique offers the richest pickings for church spotters, the more accessible
south coast is not without some interest. Most striking is Inhambane’s
eighteenth century cathedral. One of two churches gracing the somewhat
mischieviously named Rua da Karl Marx, this is the crowning glory of a town
whose sedate Mediterranean atmosphere is quite unlike that of any other in
Africa.
Mind you, not every church warrants investigation. Visitors to
the modern capital of Maputo, for instance, are unlikely to spend much time
goggling at the twentieth century Catholic Cathedral. This is a preposterous
white monstrosity whose charms are further diminished when you discover, if the
travel writer Nick Middleton is to be believed, that it was built using a
labour force of teenage girls, picked up by the police and charged as
prostitutes if proved not to be virgins.
Philip Briggs has
spent considerable time travelling around Mozambique, researching his Guide to
Mozambique, published by Bradt.
