Communicating in Moz

In a society that emphasizes community over the individual, I am the weirdo who sits alone in her house all day, coddles dogs as if they were human beings, doesn't eat xima, and can't speak local language. I don't sit on the straw mat with the other women (if you're not used to it, it's really uncomfortable after a while!). People always get up to offer me a chair. No one challenges me if I get in the front seat of the chapa (I've heard, sometimes reserved for men). And seriously, why would I choose to be squished under the deodorant-less armpits of a million other people in the back?
Out in the field, on the way to another neighborhood of Chicumbane (every time Habitat for Humanity builds a new house in the community, Tsembeka gets to lay down the first cement block- it's symbolic, I think), the activist I'm with stops to ask for directions. "Good morning," She calls out (in Changana) as we approach a house with three old women wrapped in capulanas sitting in the front. "Good morning," They respond, coming to greet us. I kiss three sets of papery cheeks and shake three sets of wrinkly hands, holding my left wrist under my right elbow as we shake, a sign of respect. The ladies do the same.
"How are you?" Luisa the activist asks. The women respond, exchange more pleasantries. I may not speak Changana, but I know small talk when I see it. Several minutes later, Luisa asks the target question: "Where is the house of ____?" And we're finally on our way. As we start walking again, I muse about the differences in societal norms when it comes to communication. In my eyes, a quick "Good morning, where is this house?" would have done it, minus all the time wasted on questions like "How did you sleep?" I probably get asked that question more than any other.
Luisa continues greeting everyone we pass. At one house, she calls out a greeting but receives no reply from the lady in the doorway. Luisa calls again, louder, waving emphatically. No response. Lusia shakes her head, miffed. "That's so rude to just stare at someone when they say hi. Such ugly behavior."
I cringe a little when I think about a couple months ago, when I went with my guard to the electricity office in Xai Xai to demand some answers about my terrible electricity. As we sit down with the boss in his office, he asks us, "Good morning, how are you?"
"I'm not good." I respond angrily, and begin ranting about my electricity issues at house, and how ridiculous it all is. In the States, the angry customer gets anything. In Mozambique, the angry customer gets nothing but a surprised stare. My guard jumps in to try to save the day. "The lady is just upset because she has had a problem with her electricity for several weeks and she can't cook at home because of her electric stove." So obviously I'm only so upset because I'm hungry. Later on, my guard sits me down for a talk. "Some people say you have an unusual way of greeting people," He says, very nervously. "I just want you to know, that doesn't mean we don't appreciate that you're here helping our country."
A few days ago, my next door neighbor Orquidia found a snake in her house. Mozambicans are terrified of snakes, sometimes even believing that they are sent by evil witches or wizards to harm them. When she called the neighbors to come kill it (the appropriate manner for dealing with a snake here, is bludgeoning it to death with machetes and shovels, cutting its head off, and then burning it), the snake escaped into a hole under the house. I'd never seen Orquidia so upset. "If I had money," she kept saying, "I'd move out of this house. I'd leave this place. I'm not safe here. My daughter can't stay here. We can't sleep in the house. There's a snake lurking around!"
Let me tell you, Mozambicans rarely get perturbed by anything. I think that Americans, in relation, are highly emotional. Or at least, visibly emotional. In Moz, most things are dealt with in a platonic, "This is a part of life. These things happen and it's out of my hands." (difference in locus of control) It's frustrating, sometimes, to get them to care about the same things I do. ("I couldn't sleep last night, the wind blowing against the roof made it sound like someone was trying to break into my house!" "HAHAHA, no one is going to break in to your house." "Really? Tell that to all the volunteers who've had their houses broken into, then.")
Interestingly enough, Orquidia's reaction to the snake was the second time this week I've seen a Mozambican woman get worked up. On a chapa to Xai Xai the other day, a woman in the back declared that she had forgotten something at home, and asked to get off the chapa. We were about two minutes in to the 10 minute ride. The driver pulled over, but as the woman stood up to get out, he told her that she still had to pay. They began arguing in Changana and (I assume) she said that we hadn't even arrived yet. At this point, the chapa driver pulled back onto the road and began driving again, as the woman continued hollering at him in Changana. (I was sitting in the seat behind the driver, so I got an earful.) He turned up the music to drown her out but she kept right on going. Yelling and screaming and waving and pointing her finger accusingly the entire way to Xai Xai. What surprised me the most, however, was the man in the front seat. I've ranted multiple times about how no one will ever step in and defend me, even if I'm obviously getting harassed. For the first time ever, I saw someone intervene in a conflict. The guy in the front told the driver that the lady deserved an apology for being disrespected (which of course, the driver did not give). I got off at the first stop so was unable to see how the rest of the situation resolved, but it was all so fascinating to me.
Almost one year into service (HAH Kevin and Devin, I'm still here! You didn't think I'd make it this far!), I'm still learning to communicate in this culture I live in, and my Portuguese skills have nothing to do with it.