Hungry hungry hippo

One of the common questions I get from family and friends is, "What do you EAT in Africa?" Well, the answer is... Regular food. Most people (where I live, at least) don't have ribs and bones jutting out of their emaciated bodies like you see on the posters of charities. In fact, the opposite might be true. In this culture, it's good to be "forte" (strong) and even "gordo" (fat). Women will either cluck their tongues and tell me I'm "emagracer"-ing (getting skinny) or be very pleased that I am "engordar"-ing (getting fat). In the past, Africans were encouraged to eat as many carbs as possible so now it's ingrained- use tons of oil to cook, eat lots of bread and xima, love mayonnaise.
Malnutrition is most common in children, who will sometimes have big bloated what I call "xima bellies." Xima, as I've said before, s basically corn ground into flour and then cooked with water to make a dense mashed-potato-looking substance. Xima is to Mozambique as rice is to Asian countries; it's present at every meal. In the morning, Mozambicans might make a more watery version of xima as porridge. I am personally not a fan of xima, because it's really heavy and tends to sit in my stomach like a rock.
When it comes to veggies, tomatoes, onions, and potatoes can be found year-round. Veggies that are available occasionally throughout the year: Eggplant, okra, bell peppers, cucumbers, green beans, cassava, carrots. Fruits are a definite come-and-go: Mangoes, pineapples, oranges and tangerines, passion fruit, lichi, mafoura*, masala**, lemons, avocados***, and each one has their season There is either an abundance of something or a complete lack of it. During mango season, for example, I'd be eating four or five mangoes a day ("During mango season, no one goes hungry") and slipping on piles of rotting mangoes falling from the trees, unclaimed. Then, one day, there was suddenly not a mango to be found, and pineapples were everywhere.

*Mafoura is a bright red fruit that is often made into a sweet drink. My sitemate once compared its taste to dirt but I kind of like it, despite its slightly bitter taste. It's said to cause drowsiness.

** Masala is a hard green fruit that is opened by cracking it against a hard surface. Inside, it looks like a mass of brown brains and tastes like a mix between cinnamon and bubble gum.

*** Avocados here are not of the dinky variety. The seed can be the size of a tennis ball. Mozambicans mash the avocado flesh (like guacamole) and then add SUGAR and lime (not like guacamole). It's not bad but it's strange because in America, avocado is paired with salty not sweet foods.

Other Mozambican specialties: Matapa, a dish made with greens, coconut, and peanuts. Cacana, a super bitter green that is also cooked with coconut and peanut. Fish cooked with coconut and peanut. (See a pattern?) French fries, signature soggy and dripping in oil. Chamussas, which are like empanadas, fried crunchy and filled with meat. Rissois, one of my favorite foods, soft fried breaded turnovers filled with shrimp. Bajiyas, which sell for 1mt each, are fried bean patties that people eat with bread. Feijoada, a tasty bean stew.
The only spices that Mozambicans use in cooking are salt and "caldo" which is a powdered chicken bouillon that comes in a yellow packet. Anything else is considered "piri-piri" (hot sauce).
Popular proteins: eggs, chicken (bought live), goat. Less frequent: beef (only on special occasions), shrimp.
So there you have it. A little different, but nothing too exotic. In more "mato" sites, especially in the north, produce is a lot harder to come by so I'm very lucky to have such a variety of food. My friend in Tete once tried grilled rat, with the dried rats sold by the stick in his neighborhood. Gross. Thank goodness I've never been that desperate.

Hairy Situations

My recent travels have taught me that if you have three connecting flights, you're bound to miss (or nearly miss) at least one. It happened on my way to Taiwan and it happened on my way to Germany. I flew through the Frankfurt airport to make my connection to Stuttgart, dodging long customs lines and facing sullen airport personnel, only to be informed at the gate that boarding had already closed. I promptly burst into tears.
The way back was much better, although I had to run through the Johannesburg airport to make my connection to Maputo. (By the way, nothing is more discouraging than seeing the sign GATES 1-30... and knowing you're gate 30.) There was no one next to me on my long flight from Frankfurt to Joburg, so I took advantage by stretching out on the other seat. Flying is great! When you're not exhausted or sick, and you can drink a gin and tonic while watching the Glee! Concert Movie on your in-flight entertainment screen I even debated between vodka-tomato juice and Irish cream-coffee for breakfast, but the stewardess's crisp "Can I offer you tea, juice, coffee, or water?" made me reconsider, lest I be judged for my early morning cocktail.
Once in Maputo, I collected my bags, only to be stopped by customs. As the customs lady opened up my suitcase, I thought, "Oh no! Not my canned meats! All my food! Well, at least I didn't bring the hair..."
Okay, back up.

Lore, Kevin's grandmother, had sweetly offered me some hair that she had kept for years- her own long locks from youth, and her daughter's (Kevin's mother's) as well. After I told her that long hair is coveted in Mozambique, and all the women lust for my dark straight hair to braid into their weave, Lore presented me with the two ponytails. "Oh...." I think was my reaction. I mentally ran through the list of Mozambican women who I could give the hair to. I wondered if giving hair would feel as strange as receiving it. In the end, I had to decline.

It's not like it's illegal to bring hair into the country, but it probably would've raised some questions. Among piles of chocolate and sauce mixes, two shiny long locks of hair clearly from two different people, and clearly neither from me. It could've been awkward. But who knows- the customs lady might have just taken them to put in her weave.


Less than 48 hours back in Mozambique, and it's already sinking in little by little. On the way back to Chicumbane, my chapa gets stopped no less than EIGHT times by the police. (I still can't quite figure out what the police do, other than stand on the road about every 50 km and pull cars over arbitrarily to check for license and registration. Everyone knows they're looking for a bribe.) Twice, the chapa pulls over so that the cobrador can pour water over the steaming, bubbling radiator. All this time, I'm thinking, "This car is probably going to explode one day, and Dear Lord don't let it be today."
My next chapa ride, from Chicumbane to Xai Xai. (Literally, NO food in my fridge. Except the two full shelves of German chocolate I brought back.) I went from taking up two seats in a plane to sitting "bitch seat" in a chapa- that middle console between the driver and the passenger that is supposed to be a cupholder but is usually converted into a seat with a pillow- except this time no pillow.
While driving, the motorista keeps trying to hit on me. At one point, he looks over and asks me a question in Changana (obnoxious, because he knows I don't speak Changana) and I see the car stopped in front of us but he doesn't. The passengers in back all gasp as the motorista floors the brakes and we screech to a stop one inch from the bumper of the other car. Immediately the motorista starts cussing and screaming out the window at the other guy. But the chapa passengers all know what's up. "Stop talking to the mulungu (white person)," they say, even as he's blustering about how the other guy's the idiot, who stops in the middle of the road like that, etc. "No, you weren't paying attention because you were talking to the China girl" they grumble. I smirk and exit the chapa with a console-shaped imprint on my butt.

Happily Ever After

Greetings from Germany! I've been on four continents in two years, but this is my first time in Europe. Coming from Africa feels like jumping out of the oven into the freezer.

I've been eating tons of food (pie, cake, cheese, pretzel rolls, cold cuts) and hanging out with Kev and his family as they celebrate his grandma's 90th birthday. I worry about my puppies back in Moz, but bucket baths can't quite compare to bubble baths every day.

Oh, by the way... I got engaged!!! in a legit castle. I felt like a princess.
A few people have asked about it so

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Last Wednesday, Kev and I spent the day at Hohenzollern Castle in Hechingen. (You know boys and swords...) After the guided tour, we were wandering around when Kev pulled me into a tucked-away tower. I was complaining about the cold but all of a sudden Kev got very serious. "I'll always keep you warm," he said before nervously getting down on one knee and pulling out a wooden box.
"Will you marry me?"
I tried not to squeal and cover my mouth like all girls do, but I couldn't help it. My jaw dropped. I didn't foresee this moment coming until well after my Peace Corps service. Besides, has it really been 3 years since we started dating?
Interestingly enough, two of my Peace Corps peers have also recently gotten engaged to their boyfriends back home...All the other couples have broken up.

Unfortunately, I already tell Mozambicans I am married and when Kevin came to visit he was introduced as my husband, so I can't exactly go back and show off my rock and gush about how I got engaged to my boyfriend- Mozambicans will just assume that I'm talking about a second boyfriend, an "amigo," if you will.

Anyway, no wedding anytime soon. Doesn't mean I can't start daydreaming about floral arrangements and purple bridesmaids dresses.

How to Kill a Chicken (photo tutorial)

Purchase or select a chicken from your coop to be sacrificed for lunch.

Put one foot on chicken's legs and other on wing. Cut the throat with a knife. Chicken may continue to thrash and shudder for several seconds.

Heat up a pot of water and soak chicken for a minute.

Defeather chicken.

Clean and cut intestines, if desired. Stir fry with onions and chicken stock.

Spread chicken between grill panels.

Rotate chicken occasionally to avoid burning.

Cook until crispy. Serve with rice or xima, salad, and french fries.