'You've got the keys, now shut up and drive.' -Rihanna
After 1 1/2 months of sitting around and doing essentially nothing, the sisters are back from their conference in Maputo, the escolhina is starting up again on Feb 1, and there is no shortage of things that need to be done.
Aside from my personal projects, which currently include raising and potty training two puppies (and a kitten to come in the next few weeks), learning Changana, designing a poster-size map of Mozambique on the living room wall, setting up my house (the never ending project), starting a garden in the backyard, and building a fence, (in March, painting the house, and teaching that boyfriend Portuguese) I now have an onslaught of professional projects: a stack of binders of organizational documents to sort, analyze, and probably revise, a small 5 computer room to set up, computer and English lessons to plan, preschool activities to come up with, an escolhina program to create. Eh pa! Where to
begin?
As I continue my analysis of the escolhina, I see a lot of opportunities but I also see a LOT of hurdles. For one thing, I am now one of a total of only five people who continuously work at the escolhina. There's Catarina and Daulisa, two catholic Irmas (sisters) who live in Chibuto, Angelica the cook who also lives in the city, and Orpa from Chimundo who might not be working this year due to her school schedule. Oh, and me- the overwhelmed Peace Corps volunteer who lives closest to the escolhina and will probably have to be there earliest to greet the kids when they arrive at 7.
A handful of people work on and off for the escolhina, but the big problem is funding, and the escolhina's inability to offer a competitive wage to hire and keep trained workers. Additional problems include lack of funds to continue work on its several unfinished classrooms, as well as limited capacity. Last year over 40 children wanted to attend, but some had to be turned away.
As this is a pre school/ day care for Orphans and Vulnerable Children (OVC's), many of the children's parents are unable to pay the tuition (300 mts, around $9, a month). Worse, the parents are offered a chance to work off their debt by contributing some labor for the escolhina (ie. Cleaning the classroom and children play space) but the parents don't show up. They just don't care. And when this happens, it is the child who suffers if he/she can no longer attend. So we still accept these kids, a heavy financial burden for the escolhina.
Income generation projects (raising livestock such as chickens, goats, and pigs, growing produce on the escolhina's own farm, starting an after school program, opening a computer center) have been met with very limited success. I guess that's why I'm here.
They're hoping I can write grants for them, but that is only a temporary solution to a large sustainability problem. I don't know yet what I can do for them, in the long term. In the meantime, I'm preparing to start giving community English and computer lessons and teaching the Irmas as well, so they can continue once I'm gone.
It's not the easiest task. Irma Daulisa is a bit of a character, a big woman with glasses who likes to push around her three false bottom teeth and fall asleep in the middle of conversations, at times bossy and pushy, technologically challenged...
She sees my ipod on the speaker stand. 'Is that your phone?'
'It's an ipod. It plays music.'
'Oh, a radio.'
'Not quite. You put music on it from a computer.'
'Where's the computer?'
'Well, I don't have it here but I already put the music from the computer on the ipod. It acts like a storage device.'
'So you record the music from a cassette tape?'
'Hmm...No.'
'Then how?'
She is temporarily in charge of the escolhina while Irma Catarina is on vacation, so she's pretty much my boss for now. (I use boss as a loose term, the escolhina doesn't have a strict hierarchy). I'm trying to get her to do the daily schedule for the kids and the roster, BEFORE the kids arrive for school on the first.
'How do we know who is attending this year if they're not here yet?' She asks when I ask her when we're going to sit down and make a list of kids. 'Then what's the point of registering?' I ask. It's a conversation that gets us nowhere; we don't see eye to eye. In the meantime, she's putting out radio announcements for the escolhina, and we don't have a clue how many kids we already have.
Aside from my work related frustrations (and there are many), things are going well. I have cut back my city shopping trips to once a week now that I have all the basics. My house actually feels very much like home, especially with two puppies waiting for me. They both still can't be trusted not to fazer xixi in the house, so when I'm gone I close them up in a corner of the kitchen, with boxes. Sometimes I leave them outside (they have food, water, and shelter in the outside veranda area) but this is kind of tricky because I then have to escape without them seeing me, or else they'll follow me to wherever i'm going. Erica and Alycia's dogs come by my house a couple of times a day to visit, and it's even harder to a sneak away when they're around because well, puppies are easily distracted and even outrun... Big dogs are not. Several times I have slipped out the front door and made it a few yards thinking I'm home clear when out of nowhere two big dogs come bounding towards me, ears flapping, tails wagging as if to say, 'Uh, you forgot to invite us!' They're usually trailed by one or two eager puppies who have been alerted of my absence. I roll my eyes, stop, tell them to go home, but to no avail. I have to turn around and go back, where I either stand in the veranda until they get bored and distracted by other things and then make a run for it, or I once again try the other door. It's a bit hilarious actually, how I have to escape from my own house every day.
Mel, the newest addition, is doing well. She cried the first couple of times I shut her in the corner but now that's her safe spot. When the other dogs are ganging up on her, which happens a lot (Xima is no longer the smallest, so she is now more than happy to become a tormenter), Mel cries and runs and curls up in her box (which, I'm always telling her, is going to fall apart if she keeps chewing and tearing it up when she's bored). She's still a little homebody, afraid to wander alone too far from the safety of the house, but she's starting to go for walks with me- it took about half an hour the first time I led her away from the house, she kept running all the way back every time a noise frightened her, or another person walked past. My little scrawny scaredy cat.
Xima is a little explorer; she knows the area (having been shuffled around from house to house) so she goes off to play for several hours at a time, and always returns covered in little green seeds from the weeds. She's also grown a little bit of a belly, from eating first at my house and then heading to Erica/alycia's for seconds. (I was right to name her after the food that she loves, and always gets all over her nose) She'll eat and eat until she gets tired from standing, then she'll lay down on the ground with her face still buried in the plate. Oh, my family. I refer to them as my 'daughters', which makes Mozambicans laugh and shake their heads.
For puppies, they're not too much work. I get up once in the middle of the night to let them out (approx every 5 hours) but they're good about coming back. I get up at 5 just to open the doors and feed them (I love you fridge) and then I go pass out again.
I don't know why but I've been sleeping a lot (well, I always have, but an unusual amount even for me), on average 10 hours a night. It might be because of the interruptions in my sleep now (and I tend to stay up for a bit to use internet on my phone in the middle of the night, because that's when the network is unclogged). Physically, I feel fine though. I've been eating well- aside from my usual source of protein, eggs, I stocked up on some cans of tuna and this week I bought a chicken and Irma Daulisa killed it for me (I'm still not there yet). I never realized how small chickens actually are, well organic chickens I guess. I ended up giving most of it to the dogs (innards, head, neck, butt, feet, bones) which they loved. The rest I cooked and fried and enjoyed. I'll be thrilled again for grocery stores though, and easy access to pre packaged meat!!
I've also somehow ended up with about ten types of fruit, gifts from neighbors, Irma Daulisa, and kids. I have pineapple (did I mention mango season is just about over and given way to pineapple season? Yum!), mangoes, passion fruit, guava, watermelon (here, yellow with a million red seeds, and tastes like cucumber), papaya (good for the digestive system), lemons (that look like limes, I'm really not sure which), bananas, apples (on a good day, only 5mts each!!), and a grape-like fruit called a jambalaya (ps. Would die for some jambalaya right now, the food not the fruit). So then I've been getting creative- pineapple juice (from boiling the rinds), mango salsa, tropical fruit salad, and jam! Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches have never tasted so good.
The government of Mozambique has recently declared a red alert due to flooding in south and central regions, but I feel very safe and dry here in Chimundo. Another volunteer in Gaza woke up this week to knee high water in her house, and had to pack everything and evacuate her site. She is currently staying with another volunteer, and doesn't know if and when she can go back. My bairro in Chimundo, on the other hand, Setenta Casas (70 houses) was built for victims of the flood in 2000, and is located on top of a hill. Unless it rains nonstop in February, and it might, being the 'month of floods' here in Moz, I should be okay. I've noticed a distinct rise in the number of mosquitoes though, due to rain (boo) and I've had to be more vigilant about putting on bug spray. The buzzing outside my net gets ridiculous sometimes, and im always paranoid it's in the net with me, but these things are just slight annoyances and minor inconveniences and I'll take them over flood any day. I've heard that some of the owners of the houses here, many of whom moved back to their lands after the prior flood and now rent out their house here, are preparing for flood and moving back to Chimundo and displacing their tenants. Thank God for contracts, hmm?
Anyway, I feel super safe here (knock on wood) and I'm pretty happy. It's nice to have Erica and Alycia so close by, as well as Yoko the Japanese volunteer. I went over to E/A's tonight and we watched Robin Hood Men In Tights which was just what I needed. Haven't received any mail since getting to site (except for one Christmas card), in case you're wondering. Please keep sending! They'll show up any day, probably all at once.
Time for me to catch some zzz's- it's 3am. Night!
Friday, January 28, 2011
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
rain and honey
You know, I imagined this differently. I imagined diving headfirst into the glorious lake of African culture and community... Sure, the temperature's a little hard to get used to but before you know it I'm swimming laps with the colorful inhabitants, becoming one of them...
I never imagined that, after splashing around a bit I'd back hugging the shore, more of a cranky wet cat than a graceful cultural mermaid.
After all the stiff tediousness and technicality of training, I hoped to be able to hit the ground running, never expecting to get deposited at site like a flailing upside down turtle.
My professional accomplishments thus far into my service: I've read two health books and interviewed one neighbor about her daily schedule...(In other words, none)
My personal accomplishments: I've set up most of my house, read five fiction books, bought a fridge, and otherwise gone pretty broke.
For some reason, I have a hard time budgeting in meticais... Probably because everything seems so cheap but then adds up. And, as I've complained about before, Peace Corps does not give me more money for opening up a brand new site (hence the abandoned flailing turtle metaphor). I've reached into my own funds (hellooo international transaction fees) to buy two (hefty) things I will need over the course of two years- a fridge, and a bookcase. The bookcase is in the process of being made; the carpenter said it'll be ready next week which means I should expect it sometime in March. I asked for the most simple bookcase possible made out of the cheapest wood and it's still costing me $100 (I'm talking US dollars for your sake, dearest blog readers). But at least the six stacks of books and manuals currently on the floor will have a home away from the cockroaches. (Who knew cockroaches could be such intellectual creatures? They like to live inside the spiral bindings of my health manuals- ironic, no?)
The fridge, I decided long ago, is a must. Health and sanity at the cost of $450 is well worth it, although presently slightly depressing to think about. (My poor little bank account...) Yogurt, cold water, leftovers, produce that doesn't go bad in two days, all very necessary.
Hopefully, my spending slows down in the next couple of months as I finish the last of my house purchases. Unfortunately, unexpected expenses keep arising. For example, re- installing electricity in front of and behind my house because the bulbs are there but the lines were cut. For example, buying a new kitchen plug extension after the last one exploded during a power surge. For example, buying a new full length mirror after the last one fell off the wall and shattered into a million pieces (that the grown neighbor women later went digging through the trash pit for, to keep the big pieces). And, for example, constant Peace Corps reimbursements. Buy a bed frame, a table and two chairs, get a fence made, get a bike, get a language teacher, we'll reimburse you a few weeks after you send us your receipt. It's all very bewildering to me why they think I have so much money to front, even temporarily.
So anyway. Point is- progress is slow. I have to do things in stages, month by month, to make sure I also can afford well, FOOD. Table and chairs I have to buy next month with my living allowance. Bed frame, done and reimbursed last month. Bike is a no go, too much sand here. But I am getting a language teacher, I've decided. I met a Portuguese professor in the neighborhood, Raymundo, who can also teach Changana, the local language. Yoko (the japanese volunteer) and I both want to learn so we have set up a tutoring schedule with Raymundo who, failed to show up on time the first day (as Mozambicans are apt to do). I spent the session at Yoko's house, trying to learn what she already knows, because she's had an 8 month head start. Learning with someone else will give me more motivation than one on one tutoring, I think.
This week schools start back up again. It's kind of a mess really, with parents all trying to register their kids on the last day (when they've had months to do it), teachers having meetings that don't start until at least 2 hours after they're supposed to (sucks for education volunteers like Erica and Alycia), teaching schedules not even made until the day school starts! Sometimes, im glad im health; my schedule is more lax (too lax right now, to the point of non existence) and more community based. Well, ideally.
Back to the wet cat. The kids don't come around much, they find me boring because I just sit in the house all day and read. The men I rarely talk to because I'm suspicious that they'll turn out to be creeps (I'm usually right). The older generations only speak Changana. The preteen and teenage girls are really bratty- they like to say stuff to me in Changana, and when I ignore them they call my name over and over and over. There actually aren't that many girls my age around, I'm not sure why. The ones I've met aren't necessarily the people I'd choose to be friends with... They look me up and down with a shrewd eye, insist that I have a lot of money, and ask me for things.
Community integration is thus stalled by several factors: local language barrier, interchangeable heavy rain or intense heat, lack of open target population, my laziness...
I think that, were I to live with another Peace Corps volunteer, I would never leave the house. Mozambicans sit outside a lot while cooking, washing clothes, washing plates, eating... I haven't gotten into the habit of that yet. If I did I think it would make me more accessible, but I currently only have one chair (working on it) and that means no seat to offer my visitors when they stop by.
I have a friend who owns a shop in Xai Xai, who has offered to let me borrow a table with four chairs, for all two years I am here. (yay no spending money!)
Another unexpected free gift I've been given this week, has been a puppy. I asked for a boy but got a girl, so I hope that when (not if; there really is no spaying or neutering available here) I end up with more puppies the new Peace Corps volunteers will be arriving for me to pawn them off to...
So yes. The new puppy's name is Mel, which means honey. She's rather placid and flea bitten- I immediately gave her a bath which she gave no protest to, and I peeled a handful of fleas and ticks off her. She has some bald spots where I assume she scratched at nonstop.
Along with this pretty new girl, comes good ol Xima, the puppy I attempted to semi adopt before but who has never found my house interesting enough to stay at... Until now.
I have also been promised a kitten this week (male, please please please) by a friend of the person who gave me Mel. That's... All of a sudden a lot of mouths to feed. I am now mama viv, mother of three, or zookeeper viv, whatever you want to call me.
I do have one little problem though. I asked my Changana speaking empregada to go buy me flour (to mix with fish) for the animals and she came back with chicken feed. Now I don't know what to do. Oh, and the fish that Erica bought for me yesterday and didn't have room in her mini fridge for, came to me loaded with maggots. Now I have frozen fish slash frozen maggots in my freezer, extra protein for my new children.
I never imagined that, after splashing around a bit I'd back hugging the shore, more of a cranky wet cat than a graceful cultural mermaid.
After all the stiff tediousness and technicality of training, I hoped to be able to hit the ground running, never expecting to get deposited at site like a flailing upside down turtle.
My professional accomplishments thus far into my service: I've read two health books and interviewed one neighbor about her daily schedule...(In other words, none)
My personal accomplishments: I've set up most of my house, read five fiction books, bought a fridge, and otherwise gone pretty broke.
For some reason, I have a hard time budgeting in meticais... Probably because everything seems so cheap but then adds up. And, as I've complained about before, Peace Corps does not give me more money for opening up a brand new site (hence the abandoned flailing turtle metaphor). I've reached into my own funds (hellooo international transaction fees) to buy two (hefty) things I will need over the course of two years- a fridge, and a bookcase. The bookcase is in the process of being made; the carpenter said it'll be ready next week which means I should expect it sometime in March. I asked for the most simple bookcase possible made out of the cheapest wood and it's still costing me $100 (I'm talking US dollars for your sake, dearest blog readers). But at least the six stacks of books and manuals currently on the floor will have a home away from the cockroaches. (Who knew cockroaches could be such intellectual creatures? They like to live inside the spiral bindings of my health manuals- ironic, no?)
The fridge, I decided long ago, is a must. Health and sanity at the cost of $450 is well worth it, although presently slightly depressing to think about. (My poor little bank account...) Yogurt, cold water, leftovers, produce that doesn't go bad in two days, all very necessary.
Hopefully, my spending slows down in the next couple of months as I finish the last of my house purchases. Unfortunately, unexpected expenses keep arising. For example, re- installing electricity in front of and behind my house because the bulbs are there but the lines were cut. For example, buying a new kitchen plug extension after the last one exploded during a power surge. For example, buying a new full length mirror after the last one fell off the wall and shattered into a million pieces (that the grown neighbor women later went digging through the trash pit for, to keep the big pieces). And, for example, constant Peace Corps reimbursements. Buy a bed frame, a table and two chairs, get a fence made, get a bike, get a language teacher, we'll reimburse you a few weeks after you send us your receipt. It's all very bewildering to me why they think I have so much money to front, even temporarily.
So anyway. Point is- progress is slow. I have to do things in stages, month by month, to make sure I also can afford well, FOOD. Table and chairs I have to buy next month with my living allowance. Bed frame, done and reimbursed last month. Bike is a no go, too much sand here. But I am getting a language teacher, I've decided. I met a Portuguese professor in the neighborhood, Raymundo, who can also teach Changana, the local language. Yoko (the japanese volunteer) and I both want to learn so we have set up a tutoring schedule with Raymundo who, failed to show up on time the first day (as Mozambicans are apt to do). I spent the session at Yoko's house, trying to learn what she already knows, because she's had an 8 month head start. Learning with someone else will give me more motivation than one on one tutoring, I think.
This week schools start back up again. It's kind of a mess really, with parents all trying to register their kids on the last day (when they've had months to do it), teachers having meetings that don't start until at least 2 hours after they're supposed to (sucks for education volunteers like Erica and Alycia), teaching schedules not even made until the day school starts! Sometimes, im glad im health; my schedule is more lax (too lax right now, to the point of non existence) and more community based. Well, ideally.
Back to the wet cat. The kids don't come around much, they find me boring because I just sit in the house all day and read. The men I rarely talk to because I'm suspicious that they'll turn out to be creeps (I'm usually right). The older generations only speak Changana. The preteen and teenage girls are really bratty- they like to say stuff to me in Changana, and when I ignore them they call my name over and over and over. There actually aren't that many girls my age around, I'm not sure why. The ones I've met aren't necessarily the people I'd choose to be friends with... They look me up and down with a shrewd eye, insist that I have a lot of money, and ask me for things.
Community integration is thus stalled by several factors: local language barrier, interchangeable heavy rain or intense heat, lack of open target population, my laziness...
I think that, were I to live with another Peace Corps volunteer, I would never leave the house. Mozambicans sit outside a lot while cooking, washing clothes, washing plates, eating... I haven't gotten into the habit of that yet. If I did I think it would make me more accessible, but I currently only have one chair (working on it) and that means no seat to offer my visitors when they stop by.
I have a friend who owns a shop in Xai Xai, who has offered to let me borrow a table with four chairs, for all two years I am here. (yay no spending money!)
Another unexpected free gift I've been given this week, has been a puppy. I asked for a boy but got a girl, so I hope that when (not if; there really is no spaying or neutering available here) I end up with more puppies the new Peace Corps volunteers will be arriving for me to pawn them off to...
So yes. The new puppy's name is Mel, which means honey. She's rather placid and flea bitten- I immediately gave her a bath which she gave no protest to, and I peeled a handful of fleas and ticks off her. She has some bald spots where I assume she scratched at nonstop.
Along with this pretty new girl, comes good ol Xima, the puppy I attempted to semi adopt before but who has never found my house interesting enough to stay at... Until now.
I have also been promised a kitten this week (male, please please please) by a friend of the person who gave me Mel. That's... All of a sudden a lot of mouths to feed. I am now mama viv, mother of three, or zookeeper viv, whatever you want to call me.
I do have one little problem though. I asked my Changana speaking empregada to go buy me flour (to mix with fish) for the animals and she came back with chicken feed. Now I don't know what to do. Oh, and the fish that Erica bought for me yesterday and didn't have room in her mini fridge for, came to me loaded with maggots. Now I have frozen fish slash frozen maggots in my freezer, extra protein for my new children.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Mocambique, nossa terra gloriosa
Hiding away from the heat of the day, looking for (productive) ways to occupy myself without having to leave the blessings of the tireless fan, I began looking over the numerous reading materials supplied by Peace Corps. These books and manuals, which create two stacked towers on the floor of my bookshelf-less living room, contain many professional resources, topics including: HIV/AIDs, general community health activities, Peace Corps policies, working with youth, maximizing gardening potential, nutrition, how to deal with cheating in the classroom, etc, etc.
With the aim of going from general to specific, I first picked up a book called 'Culture Matters: The Peace Corps Cross-Cultural Workbook.' And while a book like this may sound vague, generic, and cliche (which in many ways it is, as predicted) it has caused me to think (more deeply, anyway) about the differences and similarities between Mozambican and American cultures and to analyze (as any Sociology major is apt to do) the reasons behind certain traditions and behaviors that I, as an American living in Mozambique, am unfamiliar or unaccustomed to. What follows is a brief (and incomplete) pondering of some observations I've made during my time here, things I hope you find as new and interesting as I do.
They call me 'menina,' an affectionate term meaning 'little girl.' While it doesn't bother me like it does some other female volunteers I know, I certainly don't feel like a little girl. How can I be a menina when I've been on my own since I was 17, graduated, now living alone in a new country for two years, having left friends, family, and a boyfriend, all who love me? I am certainly not a little girl, in American sense. I am (rawr!) a strong, independent woman!
But to Mozambicans (women especially), I am their menina. Someone young, needing a lot of help (why, she can't even cut vegetables correctly! Haha! You mean you don't know how to light a charcoal stove? No, don't cut a mango that way, it must be this way!), and...because I am presumably solteira (single), an assumption made because I am, after all, living alone in a big 3br house far from my native land. You're going to get married and stay in Mozambique, they're fond of predicting. Actually, a good number of them probably think that's the real reason I'm here, volunteer work is just a lame excuse.
It all changes when I tell them Im already married. (Here, anything short of marriage is not taken seriously, especially by the younger generations. Oh, you have a boyfriend? You are still available then! You can have more than one 'amigo.' In fact, you will need one because you will be separated from your husband for so long.) - Do you see the link between cultural attitudes towards multiple concurrent sexual partners and HIV/AIDs prevalence?
So I tell them Im married. 'Oh! We thought you were a menina.' There it is, the difference. You graduate to 'mulher' (woman) status only through marriage. Actually, not quite. The inevitable follow up question: 'Do you have kids?' Erm, no. 'Why not?' There's plenty of time later to have them. 'Not that much time.'
Keep in mind, life expectancy is much shorter here. Deaths is not an anomaly: malaria, tuberculosis, car accidents, crocodile attacks (ive actually heard of that one a number of times), etc. Time is of the essence. Tomorrow is not guaranteed.
And here also is another difference: internal versus external locus of control. Our culture believes very strongly that we can and do control our own happiness and allotment in life. If we are unhappy, it is our fault, we should do something to change it. Here, things happen because they happen, there is no one to blame. Someone will tell you a family member died in the same tone they'd comment on the weather. My cousin passed away. It's been raining a lot today.
My friend Jess's landlady said her husband died during the civil war. 'I'm sorry,'Jess said. 'Dont say that,' the woman replied. 'It happens.'
That's not to say that Mozambicans treat death with indifference. Far from it. When someone dies, the whole family gets together, all 30 or so of them, from South Africa, all parts of Mozambique. The neighbors prepare food so the family can eat after the lengthy vigil. So, then, death is treated like birth, a normal part of the life cycle.
In America, a baby's birth is celebrated to an enormous extent with baby showers, relatives visiting and oohing and ahhing, parenting classes. Oh, how Africans would laugh if they knew.
In America, success is measured largely by professional, monetary, physical accomplishments. In Africa, success is having and being with family. The neighbor girl snorts at me incredulously when I say I only want two kids, and she tells me she wants 10. Won't that be expensive, raising 10 kids? I ask right away (see that American mindset at work?). No, she says, but offers no explanation. Where is her logical forward thinking, is what im wondering, but who am I to judge? American culture revolves around the nuclear family- mom, dad, kids (only a couple), one house.
Other cultures (like Mozambique) are set up differently, with aunts, uncles, grandparents, extended family all living under the same roof or within close proximity. The house of my sister, or of my father, I would all refer to as 'my house.' In Chibuto, something like 80% of households are composed of extended family members.
Being in Mozambique means also that I need to re-evaluate my ideas of 'progress.' Things take infinitely longer to get done, a source of frustration for me. I like setting goals. I like making lists. What I like more than making lists, is crossing things off my lists. That is how I roll. That, is what I consider progress.
Here, and for the next two years, progress is sitting under the shade of mango trees with my Mozambican neighbors while they exchange girly gossip in Changana and braid each other's hair (people oriented society). In my head, im thinking about all the other things I could be doing (product of a task oriented society) and reminding myself that this is not a waste of time, I am showing the community that I care and that I want to be there.
I have to make a conscious effort to go through the necessary greetings and shoot-the-breeze bs ('How are you? It's so hot today! -insert weather discussion here- ') before jumping to the point (ie. 'Your kid is stealing avocados / lemons / mangoes off my tree.'). While Americans value directness, it could be perceived as rudeness.
I stopped by the neighbor's today to drop off rent money. 'Can you give this to your brother (landlord) please?' I asked. She took it and said, 'And here I thought you were coming to help me cook my Xima.'
Something that doesn't exist here, strict deadlines. Only lax deadlines. A wise word from a previous PCV: 'It will get better and it will get done.' I have two years to cultivate patience.
Time (as we know it, determined by a clock) is a relatively new concept.
For example, my counterpart and I were planning to go to the market together the next day. 'What time and where do you want to meet?' I asked. She responded, 'I'll be waiting for you at the market.' 'What time?' I insisted. 'In the morning.' It took several more times to coax an actual hour from her. Remarkable, I thought. Turns out, remarkably common. 'Mozambique time' is a term affectionately used among PCVs to describe this phenomena. A neighborhood meeting set to start at 8, means that not a single person shows up until at least 9, and those are the early birds. Everyone is running on Mozambican time. Drives me crazy. Im not always the most punctual person, but I've seen Mozambicans take it to a whole new level.
The differences in concept of time boils down to this: American society is monochronic, that is people bend to the quantifiable, exhaustive demands of time and tasks are completed subsequentially. Meanwhile, Mozambique (and much of Africa I suspect) is polychronic, which means time is variable and a tool of the people. Contrary to our belief that there are never enough hours in a day, these cultures assume that more time is always available to accomplish things, and people often start one thing without finishing another.
This affects even the way people stand (or don't stand) in line! At starbucks, for instance, everyone stands neatly in line, one after the other, and waits their turn to order. Lines are uncommon here, usually just a cluster of people standing around the counter at the post office, the store, the immigration office. Thus, the pushy people are served first. Several times I have been offended by people who hustle their way to the front without any regard to the semblance of a line everyone else is standing in. No one ever says anything.
The only places I've observed an orderly line are: the bank (line for ATM enforced by the guard), and actual grocery stores with check out counters (usually big chains like ShopRite or PEP). Even then, Mozambicans seem uncomfortable, forming messy zigzag lines and 'tailgating,' standing as close to the next person as physically possible and continuously pushing forward, presumably guarding from anybody trying to cut in. Last time, the man standing behind me kept pushing his grocery basket into my legs even when the line wasn't moving, to try to get me to move forward because I had respectfully left a foot of space in between me and the girl in front of me.
I find it interesting that Mozambicans tend to be very generous. Food, although possibly scarce, is offered generously. If you happen to stop by someone's house while they are having a meal, you will very likely to be invited to join. 'Vamos tomar cha!' the neighbor girl says to me cheerfully (let's have tea/breakfast!) but I always politely decline because I see she has 3 other mouths to feed and not a lot of food. I personally am very selfish with my food. Produce does not keep for very long, so im constantly going to the city, but to buy little. I cook in moderate proportions, enough for one meal and maybe some leftover to minimize the hassle of cooking multiple times in one day. Neighbors sometimes hint that they would like to try some american food, but I just chuckle politely and say, 'One day.' Maybe one day I'll feel like sharing.
The culture of 'estou a pedir' (I'm asking you for...) is a little hard to get used to. People will just ASK for stuff. Random strangers, neighbors, people you just met. Estou a pedir water from your water bottle. Estou a pedir 5 meticais. Estou a pedir candy. Estou a pedir your skirt. No? Well how about your shirt?
And while I almost always say no, (uh, not giving you my hair for your weave, sorry) I know that it is indeed part of the culture to give things. I heard another PCV say he once saw a man pedir another man's pants, and the guy just took them off and handed them over.
The problem is, I am certainly the target of more pedirs than the average Mozambican, solely because I am a foreigner and perceived to have money.
Two ladies selling fish at the market asked for my water. I said no, I was walking a ways, I needed it. They dismissed my concerns: 'oh, you can just buy another one. Here. Here's a cup, give me water.' I didn't appreciate their pushiness, but they weren't being rude, per se.
Hitch- hiking, while considered potentially dangerous in the States, is a frequent method of transport. (Peace Corps approves it as a relatively safe way to travel.) Few people own cars, so those who do will oftentimes just pull over for those waiting on the side of the road. (The sign for hitch-hiking is to extend an arm straight out and shake the wrist up and down while pointing) Granted, some drivers are poorly trained and exhibit risky behavior (such as, one time the driver who picked us up on the way to Maputo had a phone in each hand that he was constantly talking in to, at one point holding up both to his ears and steering with his elbows). But then again, the same criticisms can be made of chapa drivers, and at least in private cars you're not crammed in like sardines and at least you can use a seatbelt. Definitely the way to go.
As I've mentioned before, Mozambican concept of geography is limited. I constantly hear 'hey China' or 'Japan!' when im walking through the market, usually accompanied by hissing which I consider rude but is just the common way to get somebody's attention. Unfortunately, I associate this noise with creepy men who want to talk to me, and thus never respond.
Anyway, Asia therefore seems to be composed of two countries only, and America is this white person's land where problems don't exist, especially financial ones. 'Everything is easier in America' someone said to me once. How do you even begin to respond to that?
Just this week, my friend Jess and I were talking to a group of Mozambicans. When we introduced ourselves as Americans, a man said, 'She is American. You have the face of a Chinese or Japanese. Your parents are from Japan or China.' Just to blow his mind, I told him that they're from America too. He said no, we may live in America but we are not American, just as Obama is Kenyan and not American because his parent(s?) are from Kenya. It was a losing battle.
Sometimes these perspectives are so narrow, they leave no room for doubt and as it usually turns out, these situations tend to come from left field, leaving us shocked and defensive instead of rational and patient. I barely met the guy, I wasn't going to spend an hour breaking things down for him. Besides, he wouldn't listen anyways. Better to save my breath for someone who I plan to cultivate a friendship with, someone who will not just listen but hear what im saying.
Mozambicans are terrified of dogs and snakes, but dont bat an eyelash at roaches, spiders, or scorpions. Dogs here are mainly kept for security reasons, but not loved or nurtured. Children think that the way to play with puppies is to hit and provoke them and then run away. They do not make the connection between this type of behavior and the dogs' aggression.
During my stay in Namaacha I tried several times to pet the neighbors' dogs and cats but could never get close to them.
The criancas (children) are fascinated by Erica/alycia's dogs, knowing they are harmless. They often try to call them the way they hear us do, whistle the same way Alycia does or say 'Come on let's go' like Im always saying. The dogs, for the most part, couldn't care less about these kids.
Speaking of kids, they've either gotten used to me as the NEW foreigner, or they find me exceptionally boring, because they rarely come around anymore. (Probably both.) It helps that my house, which I've officially moved in to, is not surrounded by crianca central. It's more of a trek to come pester me and besides, I have metal grates on my doors.
Jessica, the Moz15 volunteer in Chibuto, came over yesterday and we sat outside on the veranda, read, drank coffee, and enjoyed the rain. Closest thing I'll get to a coffee shop for a few years. Its so quiet out when it rains. Everyone just hangs out inside. It better stop soon though, I need to do my laundry :)
With the aim of going from general to specific, I first picked up a book called 'Culture Matters: The Peace Corps Cross-Cultural Workbook.' And while a book like this may sound vague, generic, and cliche (which in many ways it is, as predicted) it has caused me to think (more deeply, anyway) about the differences and similarities between Mozambican and American cultures and to analyze (as any Sociology major is apt to do) the reasons behind certain traditions and behaviors that I, as an American living in Mozambique, am unfamiliar or unaccustomed to. What follows is a brief (and incomplete) pondering of some observations I've made during my time here, things I hope you find as new and interesting as I do.
They call me 'menina,' an affectionate term meaning 'little girl.' While it doesn't bother me like it does some other female volunteers I know, I certainly don't feel like a little girl. How can I be a menina when I've been on my own since I was 17, graduated, now living alone in a new country for two years, having left friends, family, and a boyfriend, all who love me? I am certainly not a little girl, in American sense. I am (rawr!) a strong, independent woman!
But to Mozambicans (women especially), I am their menina. Someone young, needing a lot of help (why, she can't even cut vegetables correctly! Haha! You mean you don't know how to light a charcoal stove? No, don't cut a mango that way, it must be this way!), and...because I am presumably solteira (single), an assumption made because I am, after all, living alone in a big 3br house far from my native land. You're going to get married and stay in Mozambique, they're fond of predicting. Actually, a good number of them probably think that's the real reason I'm here, volunteer work is just a lame excuse.
It all changes when I tell them Im already married. (Here, anything short of marriage is not taken seriously, especially by the younger generations. Oh, you have a boyfriend? You are still available then! You can have more than one 'amigo.' In fact, you will need one because you will be separated from your husband for so long.) - Do you see the link between cultural attitudes towards multiple concurrent sexual partners and HIV/AIDs prevalence?
So I tell them Im married. 'Oh! We thought you were a menina.' There it is, the difference. You graduate to 'mulher' (woman) status only through marriage. Actually, not quite. The inevitable follow up question: 'Do you have kids?' Erm, no. 'Why not?' There's plenty of time later to have them. 'Not that much time.'
Keep in mind, life expectancy is much shorter here. Deaths is not an anomaly: malaria, tuberculosis, car accidents, crocodile attacks (ive actually heard of that one a number of times), etc. Time is of the essence. Tomorrow is not guaranteed.
And here also is another difference: internal versus external locus of control. Our culture believes very strongly that we can and do control our own happiness and allotment in life. If we are unhappy, it is our fault, we should do something to change it. Here, things happen because they happen, there is no one to blame. Someone will tell you a family member died in the same tone they'd comment on the weather. My cousin passed away. It's been raining a lot today.
My friend Jess's landlady said her husband died during the civil war. 'I'm sorry,'Jess said. 'Dont say that,' the woman replied. 'It happens.'
That's not to say that Mozambicans treat death with indifference. Far from it. When someone dies, the whole family gets together, all 30 or so of them, from South Africa, all parts of Mozambique. The neighbors prepare food so the family can eat after the lengthy vigil. So, then, death is treated like birth, a normal part of the life cycle.
In America, a baby's birth is celebrated to an enormous extent with baby showers, relatives visiting and oohing and ahhing, parenting classes. Oh, how Africans would laugh if they knew.
In America, success is measured largely by professional, monetary, physical accomplishments. In Africa, success is having and being with family. The neighbor girl snorts at me incredulously when I say I only want two kids, and she tells me she wants 10. Won't that be expensive, raising 10 kids? I ask right away (see that American mindset at work?). No, she says, but offers no explanation. Where is her logical forward thinking, is what im wondering, but who am I to judge? American culture revolves around the nuclear family- mom, dad, kids (only a couple), one house.
Other cultures (like Mozambique) are set up differently, with aunts, uncles, grandparents, extended family all living under the same roof or within close proximity. The house of my sister, or of my father, I would all refer to as 'my house.' In Chibuto, something like 80% of households are composed of extended family members.
Being in Mozambique means also that I need to re-evaluate my ideas of 'progress.' Things take infinitely longer to get done, a source of frustration for me. I like setting goals. I like making lists. What I like more than making lists, is crossing things off my lists. That is how I roll. That, is what I consider progress.
Here, and for the next two years, progress is sitting under the shade of mango trees with my Mozambican neighbors while they exchange girly gossip in Changana and braid each other's hair (people oriented society). In my head, im thinking about all the other things I could be doing (product of a task oriented society) and reminding myself that this is not a waste of time, I am showing the community that I care and that I want to be there.
I have to make a conscious effort to go through the necessary greetings and shoot-the-breeze bs ('How are you? It's so hot today! -insert weather discussion here- ') before jumping to the point (ie. 'Your kid is stealing avocados / lemons / mangoes off my tree.'). While Americans value directness, it could be perceived as rudeness.
I stopped by the neighbor's today to drop off rent money. 'Can you give this to your brother (landlord) please?' I asked. She took it and said, 'And here I thought you were coming to help me cook my Xima.'
Something that doesn't exist here, strict deadlines. Only lax deadlines. A wise word from a previous PCV: 'It will get better and it will get done.' I have two years to cultivate patience.
Time (as we know it, determined by a clock) is a relatively new concept.
For example, my counterpart and I were planning to go to the market together the next day. 'What time and where do you want to meet?' I asked. She responded, 'I'll be waiting for you at the market.' 'What time?' I insisted. 'In the morning.' It took several more times to coax an actual hour from her. Remarkable, I thought. Turns out, remarkably common. 'Mozambique time' is a term affectionately used among PCVs to describe this phenomena. A neighborhood meeting set to start at 8, means that not a single person shows up until at least 9, and those are the early birds. Everyone is running on Mozambican time. Drives me crazy. Im not always the most punctual person, but I've seen Mozambicans take it to a whole new level.
The differences in concept of time boils down to this: American society is monochronic, that is people bend to the quantifiable, exhaustive demands of time and tasks are completed subsequentially. Meanwhile, Mozambique (and much of Africa I suspect) is polychronic, which means time is variable and a tool of the people. Contrary to our belief that there are never enough hours in a day, these cultures assume that more time is always available to accomplish things, and people often start one thing without finishing another.
This affects even the way people stand (or don't stand) in line! At starbucks, for instance, everyone stands neatly in line, one after the other, and waits their turn to order. Lines are uncommon here, usually just a cluster of people standing around the counter at the post office, the store, the immigration office. Thus, the pushy people are served first. Several times I have been offended by people who hustle their way to the front without any regard to the semblance of a line everyone else is standing in. No one ever says anything.
The only places I've observed an orderly line are: the bank (line for ATM enforced by the guard), and actual grocery stores with check out counters (usually big chains like ShopRite or PEP). Even then, Mozambicans seem uncomfortable, forming messy zigzag lines and 'tailgating,' standing as close to the next person as physically possible and continuously pushing forward, presumably guarding from anybody trying to cut in. Last time, the man standing behind me kept pushing his grocery basket into my legs even when the line wasn't moving, to try to get me to move forward because I had respectfully left a foot of space in between me and the girl in front of me.
I find it interesting that Mozambicans tend to be very generous. Food, although possibly scarce, is offered generously. If you happen to stop by someone's house while they are having a meal, you will very likely to be invited to join. 'Vamos tomar cha!' the neighbor girl says to me cheerfully (let's have tea/breakfast!) but I always politely decline because I see she has 3 other mouths to feed and not a lot of food. I personally am very selfish with my food. Produce does not keep for very long, so im constantly going to the city, but to buy little. I cook in moderate proportions, enough for one meal and maybe some leftover to minimize the hassle of cooking multiple times in one day. Neighbors sometimes hint that they would like to try some american food, but I just chuckle politely and say, 'One day.' Maybe one day I'll feel like sharing.
The culture of 'estou a pedir' (I'm asking you for...) is a little hard to get used to. People will just ASK for stuff. Random strangers, neighbors, people you just met. Estou a pedir water from your water bottle. Estou a pedir 5 meticais. Estou a pedir candy. Estou a pedir your skirt. No? Well how about your shirt?
And while I almost always say no, (uh, not giving you my hair for your weave, sorry) I know that it is indeed part of the culture to give things. I heard another PCV say he once saw a man pedir another man's pants, and the guy just took them off and handed them over.
The problem is, I am certainly the target of more pedirs than the average Mozambican, solely because I am a foreigner and perceived to have money.
Two ladies selling fish at the market asked for my water. I said no, I was walking a ways, I needed it. They dismissed my concerns: 'oh, you can just buy another one. Here. Here's a cup, give me water.' I didn't appreciate their pushiness, but they weren't being rude, per se.
Hitch- hiking, while considered potentially dangerous in the States, is a frequent method of transport. (Peace Corps approves it as a relatively safe way to travel.) Few people own cars, so those who do will oftentimes just pull over for those waiting on the side of the road. (The sign for hitch-hiking is to extend an arm straight out and shake the wrist up and down while pointing) Granted, some drivers are poorly trained and exhibit risky behavior (such as, one time the driver who picked us up on the way to Maputo had a phone in each hand that he was constantly talking in to, at one point holding up both to his ears and steering with his elbows). But then again, the same criticisms can be made of chapa drivers, and at least in private cars you're not crammed in like sardines and at least you can use a seatbelt. Definitely the way to go.
As I've mentioned before, Mozambican concept of geography is limited. I constantly hear 'hey China' or 'Japan!' when im walking through the market, usually accompanied by hissing which I consider rude but is just the common way to get somebody's attention. Unfortunately, I associate this noise with creepy men who want to talk to me, and thus never respond.
Anyway, Asia therefore seems to be composed of two countries only, and America is this white person's land where problems don't exist, especially financial ones. 'Everything is easier in America' someone said to me once. How do you even begin to respond to that?
Just this week, my friend Jess and I were talking to a group of Mozambicans. When we introduced ourselves as Americans, a man said, 'She is American. You have the face of a Chinese or Japanese. Your parents are from Japan or China.' Just to blow his mind, I told him that they're from America too. He said no, we may live in America but we are not American, just as Obama is Kenyan and not American because his parent(s?) are from Kenya. It was a losing battle.
Sometimes these perspectives are so narrow, they leave no room for doubt and as it usually turns out, these situations tend to come from left field, leaving us shocked and defensive instead of rational and patient. I barely met the guy, I wasn't going to spend an hour breaking things down for him. Besides, he wouldn't listen anyways. Better to save my breath for someone who I plan to cultivate a friendship with, someone who will not just listen but hear what im saying.
Mozambicans are terrified of dogs and snakes, but dont bat an eyelash at roaches, spiders, or scorpions. Dogs here are mainly kept for security reasons, but not loved or nurtured. Children think that the way to play with puppies is to hit and provoke them and then run away. They do not make the connection between this type of behavior and the dogs' aggression.
During my stay in Namaacha I tried several times to pet the neighbors' dogs and cats but could never get close to them.
The criancas (children) are fascinated by Erica/alycia's dogs, knowing they are harmless. They often try to call them the way they hear us do, whistle the same way Alycia does or say 'Come on let's go' like Im always saying. The dogs, for the most part, couldn't care less about these kids.
Speaking of kids, they've either gotten used to me as the NEW foreigner, or they find me exceptionally boring, because they rarely come around anymore. (Probably both.) It helps that my house, which I've officially moved in to, is not surrounded by crianca central. It's more of a trek to come pester me and besides, I have metal grates on my doors.
Jessica, the Moz15 volunteer in Chibuto, came over yesterday and we sat outside on the veranda, read, drank coffee, and enjoyed the rain. Closest thing I'll get to a coffee shop for a few years. Its so quiet out when it rains. Everyone just hangs out inside. It better stop soon though, I need to do my laundry :)
Sunday, January 2, 2011
New Years and black magic
Fourth week at site finds me in relatively low spirits. Im still in a state of transition, moving from Erica/ Alycia's house to my own, but the process is taking considerably longer than I anticipated. My empregada failed to show up this week to carry my water, and the bed frame I was promised would be ready to deliver by Thursday has been continuously delayed. I feel personally that I have tried to expedite forward motion, making necessary phone calls and going to the city frequently (each time a trip that takes up most of the day), but that circumstances beyond my control ('Oh, we are not selling what you're looking for this week. Next week.') or the lack of motivation of others ('I just started making your bed frame yesterday, but of course it will be ready by today! Absolutely today.' [bold faced lie]) keeps me from getting anything done. The lack of progress disheartens and frustrates me to no end, the constant sense of having nothing to yet having things that need doing.
One of my saving graces has been the friendship of the Japanese volunteer Yoko who lives next door to Erica/alycia. She is part of JICA (essentially Japanese Peace Corps) and has already been here 9 months.
On New Years, she and Jess (the Moz15 volunteer in Chibuto) came over to my house to cook dinner, making it the first time I cooked at my house, the first time I had visitors, and the first night I spent at my own house. A big night :) The bedframe's failure to arrive meant that I had to lower the mosquito net to the floor to cover the mattress on the ground. Every time I crawl in, I feel like im inside my own little fort. It's not bad, at least this space is my own.
Anyway, for dinner we made stir fry with carrots, okra, eggplant, onion, and pumpkin, and also spaghetti with a garlic tomato sauce. Just as we were finishing up cooking on the electric stove, the electricity went out (putting a thankful cease to the neighbors' competing loud music) and we ate outside and drank a bottle of champagne while looking up at the stars. It was actually a very nice way to ring in 2011.
Yesterday Yoko and I attended a neighborhood meeting, which was held under the shade of a cashew tree. In the middle of the meeting (held completely in Changana) a cashew fruit fell from the tree and clocked me on the back, startling and surprisingly painful. If you've never seen a cashew fruit, it's pretty ugly. The precious cashew nut is encased in a hard gray shell that sprouts like a wart from the top of a red/pink fruit resembling a small soft apple.
After the meeting Yoko and I requested a quick translation of the meeting, and we were explained the following: A man from another city had just moved in to a house on our street a few days ago, and it was discovered that he had been doing bad things in the other city. He was a 'feiteceiro,' a malicious wizard who had been harming others by putting crocodiles in the community's water source. So, the police had come looking for him yesterday and he was supposedly on the run. But the purpose of the meeting was to unite against this evil man and drive him away from the community, if he ever returns.
Well, as Yoko and I ate dinner that evening, there came a knock at the door, the neighbor girl coming to tell us it's time to go. Go where? Go to the feiteceiro's house because he has returned.
A crowd had already formed in the central meeting place, a lot of anxiety in the air, people blowing whistles. We watched from a distance, on Yoko's front porch. But... Nothing happened. People started trickling home. We finally went to ask what was going on, and they told us the man himself had come to the meeting and they had told him to leave the city and not come back.
This morning, all is right in the world again. Everyone milling about as usual, women carrying 25L jugs of water effortlessly on their heads.
All I can say is, African communities have a strange and independent sense of justice. They will do a similar thing with a thief or criminal in the community, ban together and beat him up.
Another exciting incident earlier in the week: I almost burned down Erica/alycia's kitchen when the capulana curtains met the gas stove. Luckily, a Peace Corps staff member had just arrived to deliver something to me and he swiftly put out the fire by shutting off and disconnecting the gas stove (duh, and why didn't I think of that?) Where's my firefighter boyfriend when I need him?
Now I need to get the charred window screens replaced, just another thing on my to-do and to-buy lists. This, my friends, is why I have an electric stove. I am far too accident prone for gas.
Aside from that, not much else going on. Keep hoping it will rain so I can have water at my house, but it's been such a tease. Five minutes of rain will barely get the bottom of your bucket wet.
Im headed to the city today to run a bunch of errands and hopefully shake the carpenter down for that damn bed frame and table.
I hope you all had a wonderful new years!
One of my saving graces has been the friendship of the Japanese volunteer Yoko who lives next door to Erica/alycia. She is part of JICA (essentially Japanese Peace Corps) and has already been here 9 months.
On New Years, she and Jess (the Moz15 volunteer in Chibuto) came over to my house to cook dinner, making it the first time I cooked at my house, the first time I had visitors, and the first night I spent at my own house. A big night :) The bedframe's failure to arrive meant that I had to lower the mosquito net to the floor to cover the mattress on the ground. Every time I crawl in, I feel like im inside my own little fort. It's not bad, at least this space is my own.
Anyway, for dinner we made stir fry with carrots, okra, eggplant, onion, and pumpkin, and also spaghetti with a garlic tomato sauce. Just as we were finishing up cooking on the electric stove, the electricity went out (putting a thankful cease to the neighbors' competing loud music) and we ate outside and drank a bottle of champagne while looking up at the stars. It was actually a very nice way to ring in 2011.
Yesterday Yoko and I attended a neighborhood meeting, which was held under the shade of a cashew tree. In the middle of the meeting (held completely in Changana) a cashew fruit fell from the tree and clocked me on the back, startling and surprisingly painful. If you've never seen a cashew fruit, it's pretty ugly. The precious cashew nut is encased in a hard gray shell that sprouts like a wart from the top of a red/pink fruit resembling a small soft apple.
After the meeting Yoko and I requested a quick translation of the meeting, and we were explained the following: A man from another city had just moved in to a house on our street a few days ago, and it was discovered that he had been doing bad things in the other city. He was a 'feiteceiro,' a malicious wizard who had been harming others by putting crocodiles in the community's water source. So, the police had come looking for him yesterday and he was supposedly on the run. But the purpose of the meeting was to unite against this evil man and drive him away from the community, if he ever returns.
Well, as Yoko and I ate dinner that evening, there came a knock at the door, the neighbor girl coming to tell us it's time to go. Go where? Go to the feiteceiro's house because he has returned.
A crowd had already formed in the central meeting place, a lot of anxiety in the air, people blowing whistles. We watched from a distance, on Yoko's front porch. But... Nothing happened. People started trickling home. We finally went to ask what was going on, and they told us the man himself had come to the meeting and they had told him to leave the city and not come back.
This morning, all is right in the world again. Everyone milling about as usual, women carrying 25L jugs of water effortlessly on their heads.
All I can say is, African communities have a strange and independent sense of justice. They will do a similar thing with a thief or criminal in the community, ban together and beat him up.
Another exciting incident earlier in the week: I almost burned down Erica/alycia's kitchen when the capulana curtains met the gas stove. Luckily, a Peace Corps staff member had just arrived to deliver something to me and he swiftly put out the fire by shutting off and disconnecting the gas stove (duh, and why didn't I think of that?) Where's my firefighter boyfriend when I need him?
Now I need to get the charred window screens replaced, just another thing on my to-do and to-buy lists. This, my friends, is why I have an electric stove. I am far too accident prone for gas.
Aside from that, not much else going on. Keep hoping it will rain so I can have water at my house, but it's been such a tease. Five minutes of rain will barely get the bottom of your bucket wet.
Im headed to the city today to run a bunch of errands and hopefully shake the carpenter down for that damn bed frame and table.
I hope you all had a wonderful new years!
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
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 :)
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 :)
Monday, December 13, 2010
Chimundo
"Whatever tomorrow brings, I´ll be there, with open arms and open eyes" - Incubus
So much has happened in the past week! Last Friday, 70 Peace Corps trainees became official Peace Corps volunteers. The swear-in ceremony was held in Maputo, at the super sweet house of the ambassador. We all wore our capulana outfits and everyone looked, as they say here, chique [sheeky], despite several setbacks…
First of all, when we first arrived at the hotel at noon, they would not allow us to check in yet so we lounged around in the lobby until 2. We then had approximately 30 minutes to get ready for the swear-in ceremony. My roommate jumped in the shower first, so by the time she was done I had 15 minutes left. After the shower, I was at 10 minutes. At 5 minutes until departure, I asked my friend to zip up the back of my dress and the zipper promptly broke. My response: “You’ve got to be f-ing kidding me.” While my friend Amanda frantically tried to fix the zipper, and my roommate Jen went to beg an extra few minutes from the Training Director, I was scuttling around the room in my underwear putting on the rest of my makeup and accessories. Eventually, my dress was literally pinned onto me with half a dozen needles and our Training director Claudia, smoking a cigarette and cursing at traffic, raced us to ambassador’s house because we had, of course, missed the bus. Ironically, as my friend was getting out of the car, her capulana skirt ripped and Dress Emergency #2 commenced- we had failed to bring the remainder of the needles. Claudia efficiently resolved the issue and we were able to make our grand entrance.
Afterwards, the volunteers returned to the 5-star hotel Cardoso and stayed up all night hanging out, our last night together as a big group- the first group (north) departed for their supervisors conference at 5am. In stages, Moz 15 was separated. My group, the 16 health volunteers of north/central Mozambique, headed to Bilene. We got very lucky with our hotel accommodations here as well: my single, air-conditioned room had a fridge and running water, and was right on the beach. We had buffet-style meals three times a day, plus two snack/tea times. Crab /shrimp curry! Salad! Chicken! Beef! Fruit salad! Flan!
After a relaxing weekend on the beach (mental health break times two, minus the heavy drinking and 50+ volunteers), we had our supervisors conference with our organization counterpart(s). My counterpart was a woman named Irma (Sister) Daulisa, a nice plump woman who likes to laugh a lot and is currently helping me set up my house. Not much to say about the conference, we went over policies and had discussions of what to expect from each other, etc.
Wednesday morning, our volunteer group was split again by region. We said our final goodbyes and left on a private chapa- 6 volunteers, their counterparts, a PC staff member, and a lot of luggage. One by one, the volunteers were dropped off at their sites. Meghan first, Caitlin next, Anne, Naa.. At each site we got off the bus to check out our peers’ new home and I took a picture of each volunteer standing in front with their counterparts, ready to start their new life. At Anne’s site, she was greeted by a crowd of people (her organization? Community members?) who sang songs as she approached, and presented her with a lei of flowers. The chefe then ceremoniously cut a ribbon of flowers strung across her door so that she could enter. It was intense.
Finally, it was my turn. There was still another volunteer, Jess whose site is 5km away in Chibuto, who had yet to be dropped off. We arrived in Chimundo, stopped in front of a large gray house, and unloaded my luggage. I stepped inside the filthy, completely empty THREE-bedroom house and... almost began to cry of disappointment. All the other volunteers had quaint little houses, had at least some furniture- a bed maybe, or perhaps a table and chairs- and had been greeted by at least a few excited community members. I had a grumpy landlord who hadn’t even put locks on the doors or the front grate, fist-sized spiders on the walls, and torn window screens to let all the mosquitoes in. Irma Daulisa and PC staff Rogerio began to argue with the landlord about the locks, which should have been in place already. The landlord responded that he didn’t know when I was supposed to be moving in, and he hadn’t had time to do it. So we sadly loaded my luggage back on the chapa. My house wasn’t ready for me.
We dropped Jess off and went to buy locks for my house. I was asked to front money for the locks and get reimbursed later, which almost made me break down again. Peace Corps, for reasons beyond me, does NOT give volunteers more settling-in money even if they are opening up a new site. So, I get the same amount of money as a volunteer who moves into a previous volunteers’ house which will naturally already have many things such as furniture. A nice mattress itself, with a box spring, is approximately 6/7 of the settling in allowance I get. Frustrating much? I’ve resigned myself to buying things in spurts, and hoping that eventually, it will actually feel like a home.
Anyway, I balked at the idea of fronting even more money (tables/chairs/bed frame are items that I will be reimbursed for, but are hefty chunks of my allowance that I don’t feel comfortable spending… especially since I'll be missing the money in my account for at least a couple weeks). Rogerio fronted the money and the landlord promised to change the locks. Meanwhile, I went to stay with Erika and Alycia, my two Moz14 Education sitemates. Thankfully, they live just one street over and their house, on the polar end of things, is absolutely cluttered with anything and everything. Their house has had PC volunteers since 2002; there are even beach murals on the walls! They have bookcases full of books, a kitchen full of dishes and pots, two dogs, two cats, blah blah blah. Oh, and a lot of cockroaches. (Side note: This story is kind of disgusting but last night, as I was sleeping on their couch, I dreamt that I had a cockroach crawling on my leg so I instinctively squished it between my knees. This morning, discovered it wasn’t a dream)
Unfortunately, this is travel season for them so they actually left for South Africa two days after my arrival. I am, however, house sitting and feeding their pets (Interesting: in terms of feeding animals, you can either buy scraps from the butcher or, as Erika and Alycia do, mix dried fish with xima. Xima, as a reminder, looks like mashed potatoes but is essentially like corn meal grits). They have two dogs and two cats, and a mangy neighborhood dog who sneaks in the house to steal food and beg to be adopted.
During the day, I am out and about in the community and in the city buying stuff for my house. The Chibuto market is a 1.5 hour walk but it’s very easy to catch a ride on the main road. And, unlike other markets, this one is rather large and comprehensive. A fridge and a mattress I will need to buy in XaiXai, but the rest I think is available here.
The morning after arrival, after some food (I forgot to mention that I didn’t get to eat breakfast or lunch before I got to site) and a good nights’ rest, I was feeling much better. I took a bath and went out to conquer the community. I introduced myself to Erika/Alycia’s neighbors (still useful, because I live so close) and was invited to tomar cha (drink tea / have breakfast). I imagine that the rest of my two years will look something like this, sitting under mango trees and conversing with the neighbors. I mentioned that I like mangoes, and I was offered several throughout the day. Later on, I was greeted by multiple people that I had met, which made me very happy to have initiated the integration process. The only problem is, I cant seem to remember their names although they always remember mine…
I already have an idea of what home improvement projects I will be taking on in the next few weeks. FIRST and foremost, build a backyard fence. This so I can get a puppy (Erika knows someone who is selling puppies) and so the annoying neighbor kids wont peek in my windows like they’ve done to Erika and Alycia in the past. The charming little kids here lack supervision, and spend their days wreaking havoc (I'm exaggerating, but only a little bit). They like to retrieve and sort through the trash of foreigners (us) and then leave the trash scattered everywhere- defeats the purpose of throwing the trash in the trash pit. They steal unripe mangoes from the tree next to the house, take one bite, and then discard the mango.
Erika and Alycia have a recently-constructed fence that gives them some backyard space and now they can leave the back door open to get some air in the house. Of course, the kids do like to push the limits by climbing the trees to peek over the fence, or as I witnessed while washing dishes, every once in a while a bold little booger will try to creep in the backyard just to stare inside. Really annoying. If the front door is open, same thing. They’ll stand right at the doorway and peer in, sometimes try to come in. The only way to get rid of them is to close the door and suffocate inside. These kids do not all speak Portuguese, either. The majority of the families around here speak Changana, the local language, and until these kids have gone to school, they will not know Portuguese.
So much has happened in the past week! Last Friday, 70 Peace Corps trainees became official Peace Corps volunteers. The swear-in ceremony was held in Maputo, at the super sweet house of the ambassador. We all wore our capulana outfits and everyone looked, as they say here, chique [sheeky], despite several setbacks…
First of all, when we first arrived at the hotel at noon, they would not allow us to check in yet so we lounged around in the lobby until 2. We then had approximately 30 minutes to get ready for the swear-in ceremony. My roommate jumped in the shower first, so by the time she was done I had 15 minutes left. After the shower, I was at 10 minutes. At 5 minutes until departure, I asked my friend to zip up the back of my dress and the zipper promptly broke. My response: “You’ve got to be f-ing kidding me.” While my friend Amanda frantically tried to fix the zipper, and my roommate Jen went to beg an extra few minutes from the Training Director, I was scuttling around the room in my underwear putting on the rest of my makeup and accessories. Eventually, my dress was literally pinned onto me with half a dozen needles and our Training director Claudia, smoking a cigarette and cursing at traffic, raced us to ambassador’s house because we had, of course, missed the bus. Ironically, as my friend was getting out of the car, her capulana skirt ripped and Dress Emergency #2 commenced- we had failed to bring the remainder of the needles. Claudia efficiently resolved the issue and we were able to make our grand entrance.
Afterwards, the volunteers returned to the 5-star hotel Cardoso and stayed up all night hanging out, our last night together as a big group- the first group (north) departed for their supervisors conference at 5am. In stages, Moz 15 was separated. My group, the 16 health volunteers of north/central Mozambique, headed to Bilene. We got very lucky with our hotel accommodations here as well: my single, air-conditioned room had a fridge and running water, and was right on the beach. We had buffet-style meals three times a day, plus two snack/tea times. Crab /shrimp curry! Salad! Chicken! Beef! Fruit salad! Flan!
After a relaxing weekend on the beach (mental health break times two, minus the heavy drinking and 50+ volunteers), we had our supervisors conference with our organization counterpart(s). My counterpart was a woman named Irma (Sister) Daulisa, a nice plump woman who likes to laugh a lot and is currently helping me set up my house. Not much to say about the conference, we went over policies and had discussions of what to expect from each other, etc.
Wednesday morning, our volunteer group was split again by region. We said our final goodbyes and left on a private chapa- 6 volunteers, their counterparts, a PC staff member, and a lot of luggage. One by one, the volunteers were dropped off at their sites. Meghan first, Caitlin next, Anne, Naa.. At each site we got off the bus to check out our peers’ new home and I took a picture of each volunteer standing in front with their counterparts, ready to start their new life. At Anne’s site, she was greeted by a crowd of people (her organization? Community members?) who sang songs as she approached, and presented her with a lei of flowers. The chefe then ceremoniously cut a ribbon of flowers strung across her door so that she could enter. It was intense.
Finally, it was my turn. There was still another volunteer, Jess whose site is 5km away in Chibuto, who had yet to be dropped off. We arrived in Chimundo, stopped in front of a large gray house, and unloaded my luggage. I stepped inside the filthy, completely empty THREE-bedroom house and... almost began to cry of disappointment. All the other volunteers had quaint little houses, had at least some furniture- a bed maybe, or perhaps a table and chairs- and had been greeted by at least a few excited community members. I had a grumpy landlord who hadn’t even put locks on the doors or the front grate, fist-sized spiders on the walls, and torn window screens to let all the mosquitoes in. Irma Daulisa and PC staff Rogerio began to argue with the landlord about the locks, which should have been in place already. The landlord responded that he didn’t know when I was supposed to be moving in, and he hadn’t had time to do it. So we sadly loaded my luggage back on the chapa. My house wasn’t ready for me.
We dropped Jess off and went to buy locks for my house. I was asked to front money for the locks and get reimbursed later, which almost made me break down again. Peace Corps, for reasons beyond me, does NOT give volunteers more settling-in money even if they are opening up a new site. So, I get the same amount of money as a volunteer who moves into a previous volunteers’ house which will naturally already have many things such as furniture. A nice mattress itself, with a box spring, is approximately 6/7 of the settling in allowance I get. Frustrating much? I’ve resigned myself to buying things in spurts, and hoping that eventually, it will actually feel like a home.
Anyway, I balked at the idea of fronting even more money (tables/chairs/bed frame are items that I will be reimbursed for, but are hefty chunks of my allowance that I don’t feel comfortable spending… especially since I'll be missing the money in my account for at least a couple weeks). Rogerio fronted the money and the landlord promised to change the locks. Meanwhile, I went to stay with Erika and Alycia, my two Moz14 Education sitemates. Thankfully, they live just one street over and their house, on the polar end of things, is absolutely cluttered with anything and everything. Their house has had PC volunteers since 2002; there are even beach murals on the walls! They have bookcases full of books, a kitchen full of dishes and pots, two dogs, two cats, blah blah blah. Oh, and a lot of cockroaches. (Side note: This story is kind of disgusting but last night, as I was sleeping on their couch, I dreamt that I had a cockroach crawling on my leg so I instinctively squished it between my knees. This morning, discovered it wasn’t a dream)
Unfortunately, this is travel season for them so they actually left for South Africa two days after my arrival. I am, however, house sitting and feeding their pets (Interesting: in terms of feeding animals, you can either buy scraps from the butcher or, as Erika and Alycia do, mix dried fish with xima. Xima, as a reminder, looks like mashed potatoes but is essentially like corn meal grits). They have two dogs and two cats, and a mangy neighborhood dog who sneaks in the house to steal food and beg to be adopted.
During the day, I am out and about in the community and in the city buying stuff for my house. The Chibuto market is a 1.5 hour walk but it’s very easy to catch a ride on the main road. And, unlike other markets, this one is rather large and comprehensive. A fridge and a mattress I will need to buy in XaiXai, but the rest I think is available here.
The morning after arrival, after some food (I forgot to mention that I didn’t get to eat breakfast or lunch before I got to site) and a good nights’ rest, I was feeling much better. I took a bath and went out to conquer the community. I introduced myself to Erika/Alycia’s neighbors (still useful, because I live so close) and was invited to tomar cha (drink tea / have breakfast). I imagine that the rest of my two years will look something like this, sitting under mango trees and conversing with the neighbors. I mentioned that I like mangoes, and I was offered several throughout the day. Later on, I was greeted by multiple people that I had met, which made me very happy to have initiated the integration process. The only problem is, I cant seem to remember their names although they always remember mine…
I already have an idea of what home improvement projects I will be taking on in the next few weeks. FIRST and foremost, build a backyard fence. This so I can get a puppy (Erika knows someone who is selling puppies) and so the annoying neighbor kids wont peek in my windows like they’ve done to Erika and Alycia in the past. The charming little kids here lack supervision, and spend their days wreaking havoc (I'm exaggerating, but only a little bit). They like to retrieve and sort through the trash of foreigners (us) and then leave the trash scattered everywhere- defeats the purpose of throwing the trash in the trash pit. They steal unripe mangoes from the tree next to the house, take one bite, and then discard the mango.
Erika and Alycia have a recently-constructed fence that gives them some backyard space and now they can leave the back door open to get some air in the house. Of course, the kids do like to push the limits by climbing the trees to peek over the fence, or as I witnessed while washing dishes, every once in a while a bold little booger will try to creep in the backyard just to stare inside. Really annoying. If the front door is open, same thing. They’ll stand right at the doorway and peer in, sometimes try to come in. The only way to get rid of them is to close the door and suffocate inside. These kids do not all speak Portuguese, either. The majority of the families around here speak Changana, the local language, and until these kids have gone to school, they will not know Portuguese.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
When life gives you an ugly capulana print... you rock that shit!
One last post before I go to site, just in case my internet is iffy there.
We have finally reached the end of PST! I have become very comfortable with Namaacha and im sad to leave my awesome host family, but im so ready to move on to the next phase of my service. I've been giving my family a few small gifts here and there- a bottle of piripiri because they're always asking for mine, photographs, a binder for my sister who is a teacher, nail polish for my younger sisters. My mae is already asking me when im coming back to visit! I won't be seeing Namaacha again for a couple of months at the very least. She makes me promise that I'll call often.
For the swearing-in ceremony tomorrow, all the trainees had capulana clothes made as a present from our host families- dresses/ skirts for the girls, shirts for the guys. The host moms picked out one print for all of health, one print for all english teachers, and one print for math/science. Let me tell you, our health print is pretty unappealing. It is beige and brown with stripes and a scale- like pattern, with green and blue bows everywhere. Well, determined to make the best of an unfavorable situation, I took the capulana to a seamstress, who promptly lost the drawing I gave her and decided to go ahead and make me whatever dress she felt like (without using the measurements she took). I am now going to my swearing in wearing an off the shoulder dress with satin ruffles around the collar and at the hem. Fortunately, however, she was willing to work with me and make the necessary adjustments (when I first tried it on, it looked like I was wearing a loose, frilly off the shoulder bag) so I actually think it may look kind of cute. I'll be sure to post pictures soon.
The last time I put my camera memory card in a public Mozambique computer, I got 6 viruses and now my photos won't show up on any pc. I cannot fix the problem unless I reformat the drive, which means losing all my pictures. So, for now, im backing up my photos on a friend's mac and im really kicking myself for not bringing computer or an external hard drive. While everyone else is exchanging movies and music, I am getting viruses on all my electronics from the crappy computers here. Eh pa! Thank God I have internet configured on my phone and I can do simple things like blog and check email.
I do have a physical mailing address at site but at this point im not sure if packages sent there will get to me faster than ones just sent to the Peace Corps office in Maputo. It might be interesting to do an experiment. So, if you're mailing something to me, please make sure to date it!
You can send mail to the shared address for the volunteers near the city of Xai Xai is:
Vivienne Chao
CP 85
Xai Xai, Mozambique
And once again, the address for Maputo office:
Vivienne Chao, PCV
Corpo da Paz / Peace Corps
Avenida do Zimbabwe
CP 4398
Maputo, Mozambique
A word on mail, it is very unreliable here and may not get to me in a timely manner. My first package had been torn open (by a person? By a rat?) and several packages im waiting for have not even arrived. If you are sending me something liquid or edible, please put it in a ziploc bag in case it spills. Do not declare expensive things on the customs forms. Some volunteers' parents have been writing things like 'God bless! Jesus saves!' and addressing their packages to 'Sister caitlin,' etc to minimize the chance of someone opening the package. Like I mentioned earlier, date everything you mail.
I have a ton of things I need to buy because im opening up a new site. But in the meantime, here is my american wish list! :)
Wish list:
Dish sponges
Can opener
Spices?
Nylon thread
Vegetable peeler
Ziploc bags (diff sizes)- probably best to put everything in plastic bags
Neutrogena sunscreen (spf 50 or higher)
Nail polish in fun colors
Cheap watch
Dog/cat treats
Dog/cat flea drops
Books
Stickers (for kids)
Cheezits
Herbal tea
Gum
Starbucks via instant coffee
Maps! (US, africa, mozambique, world)
Blank cds
Flash drives
We have finally reached the end of PST! I have become very comfortable with Namaacha and im sad to leave my awesome host family, but im so ready to move on to the next phase of my service. I've been giving my family a few small gifts here and there- a bottle of piripiri because they're always asking for mine, photographs, a binder for my sister who is a teacher, nail polish for my younger sisters. My mae is already asking me when im coming back to visit! I won't be seeing Namaacha again for a couple of months at the very least. She makes me promise that I'll call often.
For the swearing-in ceremony tomorrow, all the trainees had capulana clothes made as a present from our host families- dresses/ skirts for the girls, shirts for the guys. The host moms picked out one print for all of health, one print for all english teachers, and one print for math/science. Let me tell you, our health print is pretty unappealing. It is beige and brown with stripes and a scale- like pattern, with green and blue bows everywhere. Well, determined to make the best of an unfavorable situation, I took the capulana to a seamstress, who promptly lost the drawing I gave her and decided to go ahead and make me whatever dress she felt like (without using the measurements she took). I am now going to my swearing in wearing an off the shoulder dress with satin ruffles around the collar and at the hem. Fortunately, however, she was willing to work with me and make the necessary adjustments (when I first tried it on, it looked like I was wearing a loose, frilly off the shoulder bag) so I actually think it may look kind of cute. I'll be sure to post pictures soon.
The last time I put my camera memory card in a public Mozambique computer, I got 6 viruses and now my photos won't show up on any pc. I cannot fix the problem unless I reformat the drive, which means losing all my pictures. So, for now, im backing up my photos on a friend's mac and im really kicking myself for not bringing computer or an external hard drive. While everyone else is exchanging movies and music, I am getting viruses on all my electronics from the crappy computers here. Eh pa! Thank God I have internet configured on my phone and I can do simple things like blog and check email.
I do have a physical mailing address at site but at this point im not sure if packages sent there will get to me faster than ones just sent to the Peace Corps office in Maputo. It might be interesting to do an experiment. So, if you're mailing something to me, please make sure to date it!
You can send mail to the shared address for the volunteers near the city of Xai Xai is:
Vivienne Chao
CP 85
Xai Xai, Mozambique
And once again, the address for Maputo office:
Vivienne Chao, PCV
Corpo da Paz / Peace Corps
Avenida do Zimbabwe
CP 4398
Maputo, Mozambique
A word on mail, it is very unreliable here and may not get to me in a timely manner. My first package had been torn open (by a person? By a rat?) and several packages im waiting for have not even arrived. If you are sending me something liquid or edible, please put it in a ziploc bag in case it spills. Do not declare expensive things on the customs forms. Some volunteers' parents have been writing things like 'God bless! Jesus saves!' and addressing their packages to 'Sister caitlin,' etc to minimize the chance of someone opening the package. Like I mentioned earlier, date everything you mail.
I have a ton of things I need to buy because im opening up a new site. But in the meantime, here is my american wish list! :)
Wish list:
Dish sponges
Can opener
Spices?
Nylon thread
Vegetable peeler
Ziploc bags (diff sizes)- probably best to put everything in plastic bags
Neutrogena sunscreen (spf 50 or higher)
Nail polish in fun colors
Cheap watch
Dog/cat treats
Dog/cat flea drops
Books
Stickers (for kids)
Cheezits
Herbal tea
Gum
Starbucks via instant coffee
Maps! (US, africa, mozambique, world)
Blank cds
Flash drives
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