Sometimes it feels like misfortune knocks on your door all at once, especially when bad things begin to pile up in your life. In those moments, it is easy to believe that everything is falling apart. Yet, I have come to understand that life is made of highs and lows, and that human beings are shaped to endure unimaginable challenges. We were not created for comfort alone — we were molded for battles.
Since 2024, it has felt as though God has not been pleased with what has been happening in Mozambique. That year marked the beginning of a painful chapter for the country. After the presidential elections, protests erupted across the nation and quickly turned into chaos. What should have been peaceful demonstrations became scenes of looting, destruction, and fear. Some took advantage of the unrest to steal and terrorize communities.
The police were not innocent either. They responded with indiscriminate violence, firing at defenseless civilians. To this day, no one has been held accountable. The wounds left by those protests never truly healed — they were simply covered up by time.
When 2025 arrived, many of us expected a controversial year. The scars of political unrest were still fresh, but life had to move forward. And it did, slowly and painfully. Each time popular dissatisfaction surfaced, the police were sent back to the streets in the name of law and order. The year dragged on — tense, fragile, and exhausting.
Just when it seemed that the worst was behind us, nature delivered another blow.
Heavy rains began to fall across the country, especially in the south and center of Mozambique. At first, they seemed harmless, but they did not stop. The National Institute of Meteorology issued warnings too late, and that delay proved costly. Many people were caught unprepared, losing homes, possessions, and stability. January 2026 will not be a month easily forgotten.
When I said earlier that God did not seem pleased with Mozambique, I was not speaking lightly. During the catastrophic floods of the year 2000, the world witnessed the birth of a baby girl named Rosita. She was born on top of a tree, as her mother fled the rising waters. Rosita became a symbol of survival and hope.
Twenty-five years later, history echoed itself in a painful way. The same Rosita, now an adult and in control of her own destiny, suffered complications from diabetes and passed away — exactly during the floods of 2026.
Coincidence? Maybe. Or maybe it is God calling back those He once protected.
Strangely enough, during these same floods, another baby was born — once again named “Rosita.” This time, the child was born on top of a house, surrounded by floodwaters. Life insisting on continuing, even in the middle of destruction.
It makes me wonder: what other flood is Mozambique still being prepared for?
As if that were not enough, the year began badly on a personal level as well. Two of my uncles passed away in South Africa. They will be buried there, meaning the family must travel more than 800 kilometers. But how does one do that in a month when money is scarce and everything already feels broken?
Still, I believe that no burden is heavier than what we are capable of carrying. Even in pain, life finds a way to move forward.
Today, despite everything, I feel a quiet happiness. After three months of silence, I finally managed to return to writing on my favorite blog. Writing has always been my refuge, my way of making sense of chaos. I hope to write more, to reconnect with friends, readers, and those who find pieces of themselves in these words.
Because even when the waters rise, stories remain.