Tunduru Garden was serene that morning. The ancient trees cast shadows over the iron benches, and the sound of birds mingled with the distant murmur of the city. Mario arrived hurriedly, with a notebook and his mobile phone in hand. Professor Mahlemba was already waiting for him, seated, with a closed book on his lap.
“Professor,” Mario began, “my generation hardly understands the past. At school, we learn about independence, but little about what came before. What was Mozambique before it was Mozambique?”
Mahlemba smiled. “A question worth a lifetime, Mario. Before hymns and flags, there were roads. Peoples who traded salt for iron, fabrics for gold, stories for ideas. From Sofala to Kilwa, from Manica to the Zambezi, kingdoms knew each other, traded, intermarried. People traveled, but they didn't talk about borders, they talked about alliances.”
Mario took careful notes. "But how did they govern themselves if there was no state?"“
“The modern state didn’t exist, but there was order,” the professor replied. “A man’s word was worth more than a stamp. Justice resided in the community.”.
When someone made a mistake, they weren't punished with imprisonment, but with shame, because honor was the most precious currency. And wealth wasn't what was hoarded, it was what was shared.”
Mario watched the activity in the garden. "So, professor, we were rich in another way."“
Mahlemba nodded. “Rich in bonds, in purpose. People knew they belonged to one another. We lived in balance with time and with the land. Each generation knew what it should pass on to the next, and that is what we need to relearn today.”
Mario closed the notebook. "It seems that, before the borders, there was already a nation."“
“Yes, Mario,” said Mahlemba, gazing at the sky between the trees. “And perhaps our mission now is to rediscover that nation, within ourselves.”
Final message: Before borders, there were already paths. Before the State, there was already wisdom. Those who do not know what was, do not understand what can be again.
