"It's so easy to get lost inside a problem that seems so big at the time
It's like a river that's so wide it swallows you whole
While you're sitting around thinkin' bout what you can't change
And worrying about all the wrong things
Time's flying by, moving so fast
You better make it count 'cause you can't get it back
Sometimes that mountain you've been climbing is just a grain of sand
And what you've been out there searching for forever, is in your hands
When you figure out love is all that matters after all...
It sure makes everything seem so small"
-Carrie Underwood
In approximately one month, my replacement Colleen will arrive at site. Fortunately, I already know her; she was one of my site visitors. And, she's awesome! But all of it just makes my departure in 80 days seem all the more real. With so little time left in my service, I find my attitude about everything shifting. I spend all the time I can hanging out with my dogs and sitting on my front porch. Things that would usually annoy me or anger me, just don't bother me much these days. I don't have time to be anything but happy.
I spent the past week in Inhambane province, running the provincial REDES conference. It went really well but the entire time, I just was so anxious to get back to Chicumbane. I've never felt that way before; usually, I'm happy to take a break from the "same ol, same ol" at site. But now, my days are numbered and I feel the need to just be at home.
When my bus finally crossed the border from Inhambane into Gaza province, I literally breathed a sigh of relief. I got off the bus in Chicumbane with a smile on my face and a hop in my step, adoring the familiarity of my surroundings and well, the fact that I had come home. If a week-long trip could make me feel so homesick, I cannot even imagine how hard it will be for me to say my final goodbyes.
When people ask me if I'm excited to go back to the States, I don't know how to respond. I am, but it's such a bag of mixed emotions. Being here means being away from my friends, family, and fiance. Being there means leaving forever the people I've come to care about in Mozambique. My friend summed it up perfectly when he said, "Either way, your heart breaks."
I've spent two years trying to "fix" the problems I see in my community and in my workplace. Looking back on my service, I wish I'd spent less time frustrated about things I can't change and spending more time with the people I love.
We come in to Peace Corps with this "Save the world" mentality... But the truth is, we are the ones who leave changed.
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Bittersweet
This week, I received a site visit- two MOZ18ers taking a
break from training in Namaacha to shadow a currently serving volunteer and see
what it’s like out in the “real world.” Six weeks in, they’re practically “Fresh off the plane.”
Their Portuguese is in progress, and they don’t know much about life in Moz
outside of the bubble of Namaacha. But they’re bright eyed and eager to learn,
and I see in them glimpses of the trainee I once was. For one thing, they’re still obsessed with the concept of
time. “What time does the chapa get here?” “How long will it take?” were
questions I responded to with “The chapa gets here when it gets here.” And
“It’ll take anywhere between 1 and 3 hours.” You learn quickly that time is a
fluid concept in Africa.
Of
course, one of the first things I did was take my trainees to the beach. (Hey,
PCVs from other countries don’t call us “Beach Corps” for nothing!) I awed them
with my boleia skills, inspired them with my capulana wardrobe, and impressed
them with my abundance of dogs and puppies. (I almost even let one of them take
one of the puppies back to Namaacha…)
We
went shopping at the Xai Xai market and stocked up on goodies like chocolate,
cheese, tortillas, and cookies. Later, we made quesadillas at home and sent one
over to my theatre jovens, who asked, “Is this pizza?”
The
18ers went to work with me and asked tons of questions about everything. I had them work with the children at
CACHES in order to practice their Portuguese. Limbo, red light / green light,
and Pictionary were all big hits.
But
mostly, we spent our afternoons hanging out on my front patio, which is one of
my favorite pastimes. It was soooo wonderful to hang out with other Americans
at site. I think I’m ready for my replacement to get here (mid August) and to
have a “site mate” again. Granted, if we get along. That being said, I wouldn’t
mind at all having either of my two site visitors be my replacement. But that’s
just wishful thinking. They will, however, find out in less than a week!! Stay
tuned for updates on the next PCV coming to Chicumbane.
I
can’t believe I’m leaving Mozambique in less than 90 days!!! As some of you
know, I have been approved for early COS and will be leaving Moz on October 11.
As the days fly by, I’m feeling very mixed emotions. I’ve
been looking forward to going home and being with Kev, for so long. But
Mozambique has been my home for two years and it’ll be so hard to say goodbye. I
tear up when I think about leaving my dogs and my friends in Chicumbane.
It’ll be so bittersweet.
Thursday, July 5, 2012
The way things work
I used to be confused by all of the unfinished houses I see around the neighborhood, cement and brick frames with gaping holes for windows and no roof. The weeds settle in around them, making them look like ancient ruins. One day I asked,"Why are all these houses left unfinished?" My coworker responded, "The owners ran out of money."
I laugh. "They didn't plan ahead? Just started building and ran out of money for a roof?"
My coworker shrugs. "They're saving up to continue building."
Then it hits me. The owners didn't plan to finish all at once. They took their savings and started the process. Once the money ran out the construction stopped, but it'll continue again one day... hopefully.
This way of doing things seems strange to me. To start something and not finish it. Who's to say it will ever be finished? That my house wouldn't just sit there and rot while I tried to gather another substantial amount of money for construction?
All around, I see my Mozambican friends working to build their own houses. A lot of them have land, possibly passed down to them from their parents, but no house to call their own. A lot of the time, these plots of land are also very far away from where they are currently living.
My empregada has been working on her house for a while now, but she says she's still a ways to go. Another year, she estimates. In Mozambican time, I'm guessing it won't be done for at least five. My next door neighbor Orquidia picked up and left suddenly the moment her house was completed (although I think she mentioned that it still doesn't have glass in the windows). The 350 she was paying a month (~$13 USD) was too hard on her meager salary. Now her daughter Tania has to walk an hour to get to school, but hey. At least their home belongs to them.
I love my house. It's small but quaint, located in a safe and convenient neighborhood. Peace Corps pays 3,000 mts (~$100 USD) a month to rent it. Cheap, right? But not by Mozambican standards. I spoke with a friend and neighbor of mine, Chelsia, who pays 250 a month to rent a small house with a living room and one bedroom. It's fully furnished with a bed, a fridge, two sofas, and a TV. She doesn't pay for water (which she can get from the outdoors faucet) or electricity.
Which kind of means I'm getting ripped off, with my 3,000 mt rent which includes a few measly tables and none of amenities. But that's normal, when I-NGO's show up to rent local houses, suddenly the rent soars. In short, they know we can afford it.
My replacement volunteer will live in Orquidia's old house, paying 1,000 a month instead of 350.The justification falls in the work that needs to be done before it is "fit" for a PCV to live in it: Door grates, window grates, window screens, new locks. I suppose it's funny that while we live and work in the community and try to be as integrated as possible, our houses are upgraded to keep others out.
Police don't get paid very much in Mozambique. Bribes supplement income Traffic stops, especially in Gaza province, can delay a chapa for an hour or more.The police stand in the middle of the road, arbitrarily waving passing cars to stop. (Interesting fact: If you refuse to pull over when the police wave you down, they have a right to shoot at your car. Although I've also heard that the guns they carry are empty. No money to buy bullets.) When the police officer approaches the window, the driver puts a couple of bills in his registration book, hands it to the officer, who subtly takes the money (while pretending to study the registration), and hands the book back. The driver then puts more bills in the book before putting it away, to prepare for the next time.
Here in Moz, not only do people drive on the opposite side of the road that we Americans are used to, but pedestrians most definitely do NOT have the right of way. Sometimes we joke that the chapas actually accelerate when they see white people crossing the road in front of them. Cars will lay on the horn to warn people too close to the road, but won't break their speed. I've seen children and adults scramble to safety as a car whizzes by without a second glace. I've even been the one scrambling to safety.
Pretty frequently, you'll see smashed bodies of cats and dogs on the EN1- the National Highway. I can recall the chapas that I've been in that have hit a bird, a dog, a cat. But I've been lucky; I've never been in a car that has hit a human being.
The other day, on my way to Maputo, I saw the crumpled up body of a male teenager near the opposite side of the asphalt. The chapa slowed down, the driver leaned out the window to get a better look, but to my surprise, we didn't stop. Neither did the three or four other cars going the other direction, although it would've been easy to pull over to the side. This more than anything haunted me for a long time afterwards. How can people just drive by an injured human being and not feel compelled to stop and help? What kind of systems have been created in this country that deter innate human compassion?
Again and again, I've heard hear horror stories of people stopping to help the victim of a hit and a run, and getting arrested by the Mozambican police, who need someone to blame. And if you're a white person, the blame always shifts to you. You are assumed to be the owner of the car. You are assumed to be the reason for the accident.
Another volunteer in my group was in the back of a pickup truck one day when they hit a small girl. The PCV forced the car to stop – although he says they likely would not have-- and literally carried the girl to the hospital. What struck me about his story was the reaction of the driver of the car. No remorse, just... irritation. That a child was playing in the road when she shouldn't have been.
It makes me all the more glad to be from a country that protects its people and actively seeks justice, where hit and runs aren't the norm, where school zones have speed restrictions, where most people will stop to help injured people, and even animals. I recently had a conversation with a few other foreign-born pcvs (one from france and one from ireland) and we all agreed that serving in peace corps has made us feel more american. Maybe its because we have gained more perspective and realized how much we have to be appreciative of.
I laugh. "They didn't plan ahead? Just started building and ran out of money for a roof?"
My coworker shrugs. "They're saving up to continue building."
Then it hits me. The owners didn't plan to finish all at once. They took their savings and started the process. Once the money ran out the construction stopped, but it'll continue again one day... hopefully.
This way of doing things seems strange to me. To start something and not finish it. Who's to say it will ever be finished? That my house wouldn't just sit there and rot while I tried to gather another substantial amount of money for construction?
All around, I see my Mozambican friends working to build their own houses. A lot of them have land, possibly passed down to them from their parents, but no house to call their own. A lot of the time, these plots of land are also very far away from where they are currently living.
My empregada has been working on her house for a while now, but she says she's still a ways to go. Another year, she estimates. In Mozambican time, I'm guessing it won't be done for at least five. My next door neighbor Orquidia picked up and left suddenly the moment her house was completed (although I think she mentioned that it still doesn't have glass in the windows). The 350 she was paying a month (~$13 USD) was too hard on her meager salary. Now her daughter Tania has to walk an hour to get to school, but hey. At least their home belongs to them.
I love my house. It's small but quaint, located in a safe and convenient neighborhood. Peace Corps pays 3,000 mts (~$100 USD) a month to rent it. Cheap, right? But not by Mozambican standards. I spoke with a friend and neighbor of mine, Chelsia, who pays 250 a month to rent a small house with a living room and one bedroom. It's fully furnished with a bed, a fridge, two sofas, and a TV. She doesn't pay for water (which she can get from the outdoors faucet) or electricity.
Which kind of means I'm getting ripped off, with my 3,000 mt rent which includes a few measly tables and none of amenities. But that's normal, when I-NGO's show up to rent local houses, suddenly the rent soars. In short, they know we can afford it.
My replacement volunteer will live in Orquidia's old house, paying 1,000 a month instead of 350.The justification falls in the work that needs to be done before it is "fit" for a PCV to live in it: Door grates, window grates, window screens, new locks. I suppose it's funny that while we live and work in the community and try to be as integrated as possible, our houses are upgraded to keep others out.
Police don't get paid very much in Mozambique. Bribes supplement income Traffic stops, especially in Gaza province, can delay a chapa for an hour or more.The police stand in the middle of the road, arbitrarily waving passing cars to stop. (Interesting fact: If you refuse to pull over when the police wave you down, they have a right to shoot at your car. Although I've also heard that the guns they carry are empty. No money to buy bullets.) When the police officer approaches the window, the driver puts a couple of bills in his registration book, hands it to the officer, who subtly takes the money (while pretending to study the registration), and hands the book back. The driver then puts more bills in the book before putting it away, to prepare for the next time.
Here in Moz, not only do people drive on the opposite side of the road that we Americans are used to, but pedestrians most definitely do NOT have the right of way. Sometimes we joke that the chapas actually accelerate when they see white people crossing the road in front of them. Cars will lay on the horn to warn people too close to the road, but won't break their speed. I've seen children and adults scramble to safety as a car whizzes by without a second glace. I've even been the one scrambling to safety.
Pretty frequently, you'll see smashed bodies of cats and dogs on the EN1- the National Highway. I can recall the chapas that I've been in that have hit a bird, a dog, a cat. But I've been lucky; I've never been in a car that has hit a human being.
The other day, on my way to Maputo, I saw the crumpled up body of a male teenager near the opposite side of the asphalt. The chapa slowed down, the driver leaned out the window to get a better look, but to my surprise, we didn't stop. Neither did the three or four other cars going the other direction, although it would've been easy to pull over to the side. This more than anything haunted me for a long time afterwards. How can people just drive by an injured human being and not feel compelled to stop and help? What kind of systems have been created in this country that deter innate human compassion?
Again and again, I've heard hear horror stories of people stopping to help the victim of a hit and a run, and getting arrested by the Mozambican police, who need someone to blame. And if you're a white person, the blame always shifts to you. You are assumed to be the owner of the car. You are assumed to be the reason for the accident.
Another volunteer in my group was in the back of a pickup truck one day when they hit a small girl. The PCV forced the car to stop – although he says they likely would not have-- and literally carried the girl to the hospital. What struck me about his story was the reaction of the driver of the car. No remorse, just... irritation. That a child was playing in the road when she shouldn't have been.
It makes me all the more glad to be from a country that protects its people and actively seeks justice, where hit and runs aren't the norm, where school zones have speed restrictions, where most people will stop to help injured people, and even animals. I recently had a conversation with a few other foreign-born pcvs (one from france and one from ireland) and we all agreed that serving in peace corps has made us feel more american. Maybe its because we have gained more perspective and realized how much we have to be appreciative of.
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