Maputo, Mozambique. The roof is broken and the windows are no longer there, torn by creepers or magnolias that now sprout from the roof, you would say that there is nothing left to save if it were not for the fact that at sunset the azulejos begin to shine, they are everywhere and of a turquoise that leaves you breathless. As soon as I landed in Maputo I had myself taken in front of Vila Algarve, in this abandoned house José Craveirinha wrote “they can put us on our knees / but they can’t make us kneel”, these were lines much loved by Amelia Rosselli, he was arrested and tortured here by the secret services in 1965, the prison didn’t bend him and Mozambique was soon freed, complete with a hoe and a Kalashnikov in the flag. One more reason to have come here.

I’m here as a volunteer, for a cooperation project, thanks to Cecilia from Milano Music, I always go to their festival, memorable concerts dedicated to Kurtàg, Xenakis, Romitelli and Grisey, from the Scala to the Hangar Bicocca, always and only contemporary music. Notes, scores, electronics and now also Mozambique thanks to Valentina from AGAPE who has been working here for twenty years on development and training projects. We are in one of the poorest countries in the world but with enormous deposits of natural gas and twelve thousand kilometers of coastline and so much beautiful architecture preserved, modernist wonders, iron buildings inspired by Gustave Eiffel, old deco cinemas. Some here once lived the good life, you can tell by the Portuguese-style decorations, like those of Vila Algarve, a wonderful and cursed residence abandoned for too long.

I am still enchanted by watching it when Jorge pushes me into the car and catapults me to the Raiz Festival, a stage on a sloping lawn in the dark and around it buildings and burning bins and stalls and children running and a girl who hands me a caipirinha. There is some Brazil in Mozambique or maybe it is the other way around and all around that typical and captivating African vitality that instantly makes me forget a whole day of travel. Albino Mbie starts playing and it’s an immediate ovation, true talent, the guitar built at fifteen with a gasoline can, three years later in Boston with a scholarship and here he is, the return of the prodigal son, with a band of local musicians. Voice, bass, percussion. Sweetness and contagious rhythms. They all sing and dance. In two minutes, I already know that I’ll take him to Italy. Second caipirinha, two jumps and off to sleep, because tomorrow there’s work.

In the morning I find posters with my photo everywhere. I’ll lead two days of workshops with local artists and operators, I’m afraid no one will come and instead there are seventy of us, I’m helped by David, a cultural journalist, Mimma, a teacher from Milan and an expert in theater management and Marinella, a music therapist from Budrio, the world capital of the ocarina. We gather ideas to develop the music industry, training, an alliance between festivals, a network of Casas da Cultura, support for artists and government aid for promotion, including through cinema and television. Candido Namburete listens and nods, he is Dr. Antonio Parente from Mozambique, the general director of live entertainment. He wants to reform the public funding system, he is looking for a meritocratic model, I explain the algorithm of the FUS (Fondo Unico per lo Spettacolo (Single Fund for Entertainment) to him and he lights up immensely. Salvo Nastasi will be proud, within six months they will adopt a model inspired by ours.

In my little free time I go jogging, it’s the only way to see the city in pieces. The train station, the post office, the covered market, the bridge over the bay, the large statue of Samora Machel, it gets dark early and more than running you have to avoid the potholes. My favorite street is Friedrich Engels Avenue, they are the signs of the socialist revolution, I also take great selfies like Lenin, Marx and Kim Il-Sung. Inevitable contrasts, skyscrapers and popular neighborhoods. On the street I find a boxing coach, I join the lesson, the exercises are truly deadly. I recover with an icy shower and go in search of a refreshing drink at the historic Polana, a wonderful colonial style hotel. The Martini is very cold, at the first sip I see a swarm of people beyond the windows. They are escorting someone. He looks like President Mattarella. Oh my God, it really is him. I chase him to say hello but security holds me back. I am dying to say hello. I make it a matter of principle.

In the evening I read everything about the official visit. The occasion is the thirtieth anniversary of the Rome Accords that put an end to the civil war. There is a new protocol to sign. Culture, education and sustainability. The theme is obviously methane and we are also ready to bring ideas. Music and creative residences, training for technicians and support for artists, innovation and tradition. We discover a concrete example in the morning at the Cinema Museum where Claudia translates everything perfectly. She is an Italian anthropologist volunteer, she has brought to the archive 15 thousand films, moving images from the colonial era. It would be a great undertaking, equipment and training to restore them and exhibitions in the House of Culture that we will soon take care of. There will be three in Inhambane, Quelimane and Nampula, the one in the north not far from the critical area of Cabo Delgado where the terrorist actions of Ansar al- Sunna are multiplying. Of course, the Kalashnikov but maybe it is also good to add culture. We will bring training, artistic residences, exhibitions and concerts. Maybe even screenings from the archive.Genitho is enthusiastic, the Ministry of Culture is with us. Shortly after he gives me a magnificent shirt and informs me that Mattarella will leave the Polana in two hours.

We rush to greet him with the group of volunteers, his shirt is crumpled just right, we wait in a corner of the hall. After half an hour his arrival is like a vision, his hair very white and his step confident. They stop him to give him a portrait. He is identical to Gianni De Michelis, someone who downloaded the wrong photo. The President thanks him and speeds up to leave but Claudia calls him. “President! We are a group of Italian volunteers!” He stops and Claudia introduces us. “Mario, Gianni, Marinella and Corrado”. The President shakes our hands one by one. Official photo and mission accomplished. After an hour, with Genitho’s shirt on, I am in a taxi headed to the airport. I speed past Vila Algarve and an idea comes to me, why not make it the headquarters of an Italian Cultural Institute? Italian builders could restore it beautifully, an indelible sign to inaugurate a new season of diplomacy with Mozambique. More culture and more energy for everyone. Art, music and contracts. A symbolic place of the country to be named after Amelia Rosselli. Tomorrow I will write to the President, I am sure that he will like the idea.

Corrado Beldì, published in IL FOGLIO on 8/7/2022