From sunrise to sunset

'Good morning':
Rain has never been more beautiful. It gives life to all things- nourishes the ripening avocados and mangos, the pink and yellow plumeria, the tall lemongrass, the dancing palm fronds...and sustains the people, who hurry to line their buckets and basins under the steady trickles of the tin roof. The air is cool and clean, a welcome change from the sweltering dusty heat of African winter. No pestering flies today.
The rain makes winding rivers and tiny craters in the orange, orange sand. Everywhere, mangos dot the landscape- some fallen from trees, others half eaten and discarded. Every once in a while, a heavy thud as another one hits the ground. A mozambican woman walks by carrying an enormous pile of sticks on her head. 'Li xile' she says, good morning. Local language.
Overhead, the rain has stopped. The gray is breaking up, the blue sky and heat struggling to break through. Two children run by, mangos in hand.
Yup, this is Africa.

'Good afternoon':
I've been here approximately two weeks and have yet to spend a single night in my own house. The problem is, I don't have water, which makes it impossible to take a bath, wash clothes, wash dishes, or even cook.
I've been on the search for an empregada, a maid, to get water, sweep the yard, and clean the latrine for me once I move in. Cooking and cleaning indoors are things that I can do and want to do for myself (although many people, assuming that I have a lot of money, have tried to convince me otherwise). For a while, I figured it easier to just hire the same empregada as Erica/alycia (who im currently still house sitting for)-Luise, a single mother with four kids, who happens to be my neighbor. However, I was reluctant because Luise has a tendency to ask for money (despite getting a steady and hefty paycheck from Erica/alycia), which I find awkward and annoying. That, and from what I've seen, her less than stellar work ethic.
Anyway, my counterpart Irma (sister) Daulisa has been helping me get situated in my house and community. She suggests we go talk to a woman that she knows, the mother of a child who attends the day care.
'She lives close,' Daulisa assures me. We walk together past my house, past the escolhina, down a path I'd never noticed before. Past mango trees, past a red house, past mozambican women sitting in front of humble houses. We finally stop in front of a tiny straw hut, the size of my latrine. An old woman is cutting vegetables outside, a group of children playing in the shade of ever-present mango trees. A thin, worn out woman steps out of the hut and hurries to lay out the straw mat (the nice one, not the tattered one I see next to the door) for us to sit on- she has no chairs to offer. Her name is Maria. She is a widow with four kids, all with stick-like arms and distended bellies- a sure sign of malnutrition.
'Boa tarde,' (good afternoon)I say in portuguese as I shake her hand and sit. Daulisa begins conversing earnestly with Maria, in Changana. Maria listens with her brow furrowed, and then bursts out laughing and leans against Daulisa, who is also laughing. Daulisa beams at me. 'She says she is so happy. She will work for you. She says she wasn't sure how they were going to continue to survive. She wants to start tomorrow!' I apologetically explain that actually, im still living at the other house so I can feed the dogs, so it's best that she start in a few weeks, in January. She agrees, but says that she and the children will start sweeping the yard this week, so that it will look nice when I move in. She is so eager to work.
As we leave, Daulisa says to me,'You see? Do you see the way they live? The children eating mostly mangos? We have had to give that child milk at the escolhina so he can continue to grow. He is slow at learning, they all are because their development is stunted by lack of nutrition. That woman will work hard for you. For someone who has nothing, a chance to work and earn money is everything. You see?'
I see. Empowering a woman to care for her family- well, that's 300mets a month well spent.

'Good night':
You're sitting on the veranda in front of the house as night rolls in, bringing with it an army of mosquitoes. You're thinking about how today went. Pretty well, considering you didn't get that much done. That's how life is here, life in the slow lane. The days are filled with unending housework, mangos, reading, getting bothered by neighborhood kids, and otherwise a whole lot of nothing. For a go-getter like yourself, Mozambique can be a very frustrating place to be... At the end of two years you should have acquired an infinite amount of patience. You're thinking about how lucky you are to have the things you do, and how countless others live unimaginably simple lives. You're thinking about the puppy you've kind of adopted. A neighborhood kid asked you to look after it for the weekend and seems to have forgotten to come back and claim it. Typical child, to only want a plaything without the responsibility. That's how Erica/alycia ended up with their second dog. You've renamed the dog Xima, because he's fluffy and chunky from all the Xima and dried fish he eats. You're thinking about all the things that still need to be done to make your house a home: hang up clothesline, buy a fridge, build a fence, get a bed frame, build a bookcase and shelves, paint the walls...a plethora of projects that gets to be overwhelming unless you take things one day at a time.You're thinking about how you forgot to take a bath today. Oops. You're thinking about your organization, the escolhina, and the project ideas you have for the next two years. They've asked you to give English lessons to the children, and English/ computer classes to the community (as an income generation project). Part of you is worried about the sustainability aspect of your work here. You're thinking that you're pretty comfortable with Portuguese, maybe you should tackle Changana soon. Five languages under your belt is, of course, better than four.
You're thinking there's so many damn cockroaches in this house, and it's not uncommon to find one crawling on you in the middle of the night. You're thinking about how excited you are that your wonderful boyfriend is coming to visit in March, and how you are going to put him to work building things for your house. You've told every mozambican you've met that you're married, so they don't start wagging their tongues later. And so the creepsters back off, although that has been met with limited success (creepsters will be creepsters). You're thinking about your sister, it's her birthday, and you're thinking about how much you miss your friends and family. You're thinking about all the people you love, these blogs are for them. You write because you love to write but you share because others care to listen. You're thinking and thinking and thinking, but it's just about bedtime. Go to bed at 9, wake up at 530, that's just life in the slow lane. So then, li pelile! Boa noite! Good night :)