12/24/2011, Gainesville FL, USA

Like an already powerful river with seemingly endless numbers of converging tributaries, life has been pushing my modest raft forward at an ever increasing rate. I am already finding fewer and fewer opportunities to paddle towards the widening banks to gain prolonged relief from life’s strong currents. I can only imagine that this is a trend for the future! Today, however, marks the first day of one of those rare calms: two precious weeks of vacation following an end-of-the semester preceptorship at a local family practitioner’s office.

Don’t get me wrong! It’s not that these rushing currents are undesired.

In fact, God has blessed me greatly with many wonderful things that have kept me continually learning and growing. In the 6+ months since I left Nauela and Mozambique, I’ve knowingly paddled back out into the river’s center and its push has really picked up. So much has changed and yet almost all of it has been amazing!

Since I last posted on this blog, my first semester in medical school has already come and gone. In that time, I was voted by my classmates to be our Class President and between those responsibilities, school, family, friends, Amanda, and church, I’ve been pressed at times to simply stay afloat. That said, I performed extremely well in all my classes, made new friendships and strengthen old ones, delved into a new church family and made a lasting commitment to the love of my life – that’s right! Amanda and I finally got engaged on December 16th. We don’t know the date of our wedding yet, but we’ll keep you all updated :-)

One of our biggest considerations when choosing our wedding date was a mission trip to Angola that both Amanda and I know God has been calling us to go on. Some of you avid blog followers may remember the birth of this trip back during our time in Mozambique when we became good friends with the Fosters, a missionary couple that has been in Mozambique for over 25 years, whose brother has been a surgeon running a mission hospital in rural Angola for the past 11 years (http://www.ceml.net/). Even before our arrival back in the States we started an internet correspondence with him about the possibility of our visit and it has bloomed into a conversation about simply working out the monetary payments and travel logistics. While my role at the hospital will mainly be surrounding the medical treatment, Amanda is planning on being an auxiliary component for the hospital’s evangelical mission. We know that this will be an incredibly shaping experience for us, centering our marriage on God and towards the service of others.

If you are reading this blog now and feel compelled, we are currently asking all our friends and family for both monetary and prayerful support. The current expected cost of the month long trip for the two of us is $8000 including airfare, visas, and our daily costs of living. Checks can be made out to Michael Tudeen and mailed to 1210 NW 36th Rd. Gainesville, FL 32609 or if you want to receive a tax receipt, please let me know in advance and I can work with an associated mission to get you the tax deduction. If neither of those options work for you, please contact me and I’ll get back to you ASAP to talk with you.

If you have any questions for me or would ever like to catch up, please contact me at 352-278-5194 or drop me a line at mtudeen@gmail.com.

One Love,

Michael Tudeen

P.S. - Below are some pictures post-Mozambique

Amanda with Tricia (my brother's fiance), my mom, and my sister, Mariah.

Amanda and I at Mariah's wedding before the reception.

Amanda and I at her first Gator game! Go Gators!

Wiado Ibrahim, 39 - Baker

Whether the daily schedule is full or not, my watch’s alarm goes off at 7am on the dot. While that may sound early, or at least normal, for some of you back at home, that’s incredibly late for many of Nauela’s residents who are up before the sun at 4am sweeping their dirt patios and pumping water. And even though my drooping eyelids are always pleading for a few more minutes of shuteye, I usually feel too guilty to stay in bed any later than that. Although I have never gotten completely used to this daily program, there’s always a carrot dangling in front of me that keeps me from snoozing for too long. You see, at almost precisely that same morning hour, most days Wiado leaves his house for the market carrying in tow a basket full of precious goodies worth their weight in gold: freshly made bread.

And it’s never a good feeling to start the day by just missing the baker as he rides away (cute rhyme, right?!)

After over a year of conditioning, my body seems to have adapted, programming itself to jerk awake just before the alarm goes off in order to ensure that I don’t miss out on my window of opportunity. Rushing through the house and swinging my front door wide open, I often peer out across the street to see if there are any signs hinting that my neighbor has been busy this morning making bread: smoke rising through the kitchen’s thatch roof, a large bread basket outside waiting to be filled, his kids anxiously darting back and forth across the yard awaiting their share of the morning’s haul – one glorious pãozinho not five minutes removed from the clay oven.

If there are any of these signs or not though, on most days I’ll likely make the two second journey across the road to see if Wiado is baking his locally-famous bread (arguably the best in town due to its generous portion size and slight tinge of sweetness, as well as it not being too dense or under/over-baked). Unfortunately for me, there have been a lot of things that have kept him from making bread these days (i.e., tending to his machamba and repairing the area water pumps) and I’ve either had to simply go without or make the three kilometer trek to the market in order to buy some subpar substitutes from another vender.

It just isn’t the same though.

When you buy the bread in the market it is at least several hours, if not a full day, old. And anyone who has grown used to eating fresh bread knows there’s just no comparison - the weight and substance of bread combined with extreme fluffiness and warmth… if you crack it open and slather the inside with peanut butter and honey, the combination tastes better than any pretender ever could.

Today I’m lucky and triumphantly return home with 10 fresh fist-sized pãozinhos, most of which I devour instantly.

***

Born just outside of Quelimane in the administrative post of Maquivale in 1972, Wiado enjoyed a relatively peaceful childhood alongside his five younger brothers. He attended school until finishing 7th grade and was a familiar face at the local mosque’s Qur’an studies (he can both read and speak basic Arabic). All that changed, however, when Wiado was forcefully enlisted into the army to help supplement FRELIMO’s depleted ground forces in their war against RENAMO. Having just turned 16, it was determined that Wiado was old enough, i.e. strong enough to hold a gun steady, to enter the heat of battle. His younger brothers meanwhile, still too small, were spared and left behind with their parents.

Almost immediately, Wiado was sent up to the Nauela region where he would be stationed for four long years. Although there was regular crossfire, the FRELIMO military strategy in the area was largely defensive. Wiado’s division made camp on top of Mount Nauela (a glorified hill really) and created a protected village at its base for as many local residents as possible.

Food, clothing, and water were precious commodities in the makeshift village, but it was far better than living outside its imaginary walls. “They [the people in the bush] lived like dogs, always running away from something with no clothes on and nothing to eat” reflects Wiado’s wife. Indeed, with the help of the FRELIMO army, the protected villagers ate regularly and had at least some ragged clothes to wear. Even when supporting forces were slow to provide the garrison with their food rations (coming from Gurue or Molócuè), the area soldiers would band together and go out into the night to steal food from the fields of nearby RENAMO farmers - a practice that has deepened hatred between the sides to this day.

It was in this war-stricken scenario that Wiado, a young lonely soldier, fell in love with and married his current wife. Kept in close proximity throughout the war, the couple never spent more than a few hours apart after having first met in base camp. That said, they lived completely different lives during those first few years. While Wiado thrived off adrenaline, busily marauding around shooting off various weapons (e.g., bazookas, AK 47s, etc. ), his wife and the other civilians simply had to endure the long, drawn out waiting game that the war had become. Periodically, the FRELIMO stronghold would receive national updates about the war from radio broadcasts that would provide some hope. Ultimately, however, all anyone was trying to do was survive the present day and all its hurdles.

Upon the fall of the Soviet Union (one of the main financial backers of FRELIMO), FRELIMO was quickly forced to the negotiation table, putting an end to the war with RENAMO (heavily financed by South Africa and the U.S.) in exchange for the promise of democratic elections. Even after the war officially ended though, people were hesitant to be at ease. After all, roaming bands of gunsmen were still prevalent throughout the countryside. Soon, however, various peace keeping entities partnered with the UN began appearing in the area to help with the process of disarmament. The foreigners offered good money to buy up various weapons and the small militias, short on ammo and desperate for cash, quickly handed them over.

In the months that followed, Wiado traveled back home to Quelimane to let his parents know he was still alive and well. This visit was brief though because he needed to quickly return to Nauela to start building a post-war life around his new family. For several years, Wiado’s budding family lived just down the road in Eiope where they tended to their machamba. During this same time period, Wiado sought out extra income by frequenting Nampula City in order to buy capulanas and sell them at Nauela’s marketplace. When the family eventually decided to move closer to town though, Wiado looked into another profession: bread making.

Approaching an elderly woman who had made bread during the civil war for the soldiers, Wiado asked if she would be willing to teach him the business’s ins and outs. At once the lady obliged because she had long since grown tired of the all the hard labor the bread making process required and was looking for someone to pass the baton to. Truth be told, in order to make bread in a rural setting without electricity, the actual preparation of the dough is the least of one’s worries.

First you must spend several days or weeks constructing a brick oven. No easy task… it’s like building a mud house, but smaller. Once that is finally completed, the day before making a batch of bread, you need to go buy and lug a sack of flour (~45 lbs) back to your house (Wiado routinely bikes 20 miles (!) to find flour at a reasonable rate). Then, right before evening time, you can’t forget to go out into the bush to collect a huge stack of firewood to heat up the oven the next morning.

Having not prepared any bread yet, you can finally rest easy… but not for long!

The next “morning,” around 2am, you wake up to start a fire in order to heat up your newly built clay oven. While the wood burns inside the oven, you can busy yourself preparing the dough. Next, as the wood’s embers begin to cool, you remove and set them aside, all the while cleaning the oven’s bottom surface where the dough will soon be placed. Although the embers have been taken out, the clay oven retains so much heat that it is easily able to cook 200+ pieces of bread.

With careful management of one’s time, and a little bit of luck, you can make it to the market and start selling around 7am, the time when demand for bread is the greatest. You wake up at the obscene hour mentioned above because if you don’t get your bread out early enough, you will likely spend all day trying to sell it in a slow market. If you are able to sell it all early however, that will enable you to relax a little before going out and searching for more firewood for the next day’s haul (a sack of flour will last you two or three days of bread making).

Even after all this work, the profit margin in the stingy market is very thin and seemingly hardly worth the effort. Depending on market variables, a sack’s worth of flour will produce a profit of about 300 mets (only $10!), but requires several days of work. Yet somehow bread making is one of the most reliable sources of income in all of Nauela. This is mostly due to the fact that people in Mozambique have practically become addicted to bread, or pãozinho, a tradition brought in by the Portuguese.

When Wiado first started as a baker in the years immediately after the civil war he was the only one for a long time in the area who made bread. Now after having five kids (two girls and three boys), he has to support a large family and the market is flooded with new start-up entrepreneurs. Along the way, due to his hard work ethic and reliability (as a Muslim he doesn’t drink alcohol), Wiado was appointed to be local water pump mechanic (a semi-skilled job that can earn him upwards of 200 mets a day). Now, between bread, his fields, and water pumps, he never gets a break… but that’s just how he likes it. Not only is he making some good money, but he’s also supporting the community around him.

***

Today, Wiado’s parents are still alive and well living in Quelimane. His younger brothers, however, are now spread throughout central Mozambique (Tete, Chimoio, and Zambezia provinces). Luckily, he was the only one in his immediate family who was ever enlisted into the army and had to fight.

That said, it’s still hard for me to imagine that this fun-loving man was once a soldier shooting and killing his “enemies.” I put quotation marks back there because most people didn’t choose sides but were forcefully coerced into fighting for one side or the other. Nowadays, however, these feelings have been validated by numerous transgressions by both sides during the war. Even today, when people go to their respective political rallies here in Mozambique (which are numerous and well attended), they are simply reverting back to their sides of the battlefield. Most people can’t tell you much about FRELIMO and RENAMO’s political philosophy except that they are communists (RENAMO’s outdated response even today) or that they are terrorists (FRELIMO referring to RENAMO’s destructive war tactics).

Sadly, both opinions are simply antiquated propaganda of the war time era. Although they might be off base and not well expressed, ultimately the comments reflect a sharp societal divide, a huge scar that has not yet fully healed. Although it’s hard to think that sometime in the near future Mozambicans will be able to put this war behind them and move forward, I have hope seeing people like Wiado making incredibly positive strides in the community.

I know that I said that I was done... well I am! But I also wanted to update the blog's other elements and draw your attention to them. Over the next several weeks I'll be working on a few stories to finish up the "Working Hard in Mozambique" page, so if you like this story and want to read more, check out the link on the right.

Velosa Vasco Freitas, 53 – Teacher

While observing village life in Mozambique, one easily notices that most women are socialized from a very young age to be relatively timid and reserved, especially so around their male counterparts. Thus, it shouldn’t be surprising to discover that there are not many leaders in the whole administrative post of Nauela who are females. In fact, the large majority that are present here are not of local talent, but rather young, bright-eyed teachers that have been recently imported from urban centers across the province. Velosa is an exception. To say that she stands out only because of her accomplishments in regards to her gender and origins, however, would be false.

All the while remaining culturally respectful to the opposite sex, Velosa holds quite a presence wherever and with whoever she may be. Although she is not an official community leader (a position normally reserved for elders who are no longer working), her accolades are no less remarkable. Now going on 35 years of teaching at the primary school level, Velosa has been at her profession as long as Mozambique has been an independent state (how many people in the world can say that?!). That relatively uninterrupted work schedule includes years spanning the civil war where she continued to teach even in the thick of battle. Thriving in the years since the peace agreements, having been skillfully molded by her life experiences, Velosa now stands as a beacon of hope and an example for all of Nauela and Mozambique.

***

Like so many Mozambicans during colonial times, Velosa came from a poor, yet plentiful lineage. Born in 1958, just a stone’s throw from her current residence in Nauela, Velosa was her mother’s third child of eight (two brothers and six sisters). Both of her brothers passed away at a relatively young age and none of her sisters had interest in doing anything other than what their ancestors had already been doing for as long as anyone could remember – living off the land as a subsistence farmer.

While her sisters and other peers hop-scotched back and forth, in and out of school, Velosa was academically determined from a young age. Unlike so many of her female counterparts growing up, Velosa had almost no interest in getting married young. Indeed she had much bigger plans: a dream of one day becoming a teacher (back during colonial times, only a select few educated Mozambicans were allowed to become teachers).

Working to attain that goal, Velosa attended school at the catholic mission just outside of Nauela until 1973. At 15 years old, an age by which most local women had long since been married, Velosa had the privilege of being able to say that she had completed 4th grade - the maximum level of education available in Nauela at the time. Had she had the money, she would have liked to continue studying in Molócuè, Quelimane, or Nampula until 10th grade or beyond, but that just wasn’t financially feasible for her money-strapped family. At this point, with no jobs open, a looming war in sight, and no more educational opportunities to be had, things stalled for the anxious Velosa.

In the years that followed, many of the affluent assimilated Mozambicans who were Velosa’s classmates at the Catholic mission were sent off to fight for the Portuguese army to combat the growing disruptive force FRELIMO. Some of these men returned home after the war (known as the War for Independence after FRELIMO dethroned the Portuguese colonial government), but several notables weren’t immediately heard from again, leaving doubt as to their fate.

After Mozambique’s independence in 1975, an opportunity arose when a cousin of Velosa’s became the newly appointed local government secretary. Knowing that they’d be looking for many more teachers to accommodate for the sudden influx of Mozambican students, the secretary asked Velosa if she would be able to start teaching adult literacy classes just down the road in Eiope. She quickly accepted. After giving several literacy courses over a year’s time, the young Velosa was eventually invited to join others in taking an official teaching exam that would be held the following week at her old stomping grounds, the Catholic mission. Studying intently for the entire week, Velosa passed the exam with ease. Velosa could now be integrated into the budding public education system, fulfilling her childhood dream at only 18 years old. In total, fifty-plus individuals took and passed the teaching exam that day, only 8 of them were females though.

Things were looking up for Velosa. Mozambique was now an independent state which allowed her many new freedoms and consequently she was finally realizing her dream of becoming a teacher. Almost at this exact same time, her family received an unsolicited letter from Francisco Janeiro asking for their daughter’s hand in marriage. Unheard of since he had been sent away to fight for the Portuguese against FRELIMO, Janeiro was the son of a wealthy farmer (he had several field laborers who actually did the work) in Nauela and also one of Velosa’s classmates back at the Catholic mission.

Turns out, Janeiro had moved to Beira after fighting in Tete province for the Portuguese, but was now interested in marrying a woman from back home. As Janeiro wrote the card that would ultimately guide his life’s destiny, he tried hard to remember any specific names of girls he had found alluring back in his younger days at school.

As fate would have it, the name that jumped out above the rest happened to be: Velosa Vasco Frietas.

Surprised, yet interested in the marriage proposal now after having finished school, Velosa wrote cards back and forth with Janeiro for some time before he came and officially visited her in Nauela. After a few more years of getting to know one another via correspondence and sporadic visits, Janeiro and Velosa were officially married in Nauela on October 2nd, 1978.

Velosa, Janeiro, and some neighbors posing with me for a photo

Throughout the courtship, starting in February 1976, Velosa began teaching kids, 1st through 3rd grade, on a yearly rotation between the area’s various primary schools. She started in Eiope (where she had been teaching the literacy classes), next moved to the catholic mission, then on to Maloa, and finally back to Eiope. Even though she had a job, her life at this time was not glamorous or posh. In fact, she never even had a permanent residence at these schools. Instead, she would live in makeshift housing or with relatives while she moved from place to place. It’s important to note that Velosa didn’t teach at the big school in Nauela during this time though because the wife of one of the white Portuguese merchants was still teaching there even after the Portuguese government had long since been disposed of (many Portuguese didn’t leave the area until the communist government nationalized everything in 1977-78).

After their wedding, Velosa temporarily left Nauela and travelled to Sofala province where Janeiro still lived and worked as an agronomic chief for a large farm called Mafambici (spelling?). Only 6 months later, however, a very pregnant Velosa was forced to make the trek back home alone - after all, it’s against local tradition for a woman to give birth to her first child away from her home. In 1979, their first of four children, Augustinho (now working as a primary school teacher in Morrumbala) was born. After giving birth, Velosa stayed put in Nauela for 6 months, allowing herself and the child to grow strong and healthy before making the trip back to Sofala (a full two day trip because one night had to be spent awaiting transport following the boat crossing on the Zambezia river - this was before civil war wreaked havoc on the country’s roads and transportation) in order to show the healthy baby boy to the father.

Practically no sooner had Velosa and the infant made it safely to Sofala, than they turned around and came back to Nauela. Despite their marriage, Velosa and Janeiro knew that they were lucky to both have reliable jobs and neither could afford give that up… even with the terrible inconvenience of constantly having to travel back and forth between provinces. Thus it was decided: the couple would spend the next several years leading up to the civil war separated, visiting one another only sporadically for two weeks or so at a time but still managing to have three kids nonetheless.

Around 1986, as the civil war really started getting serious in northern Zambezia, Janeiro cautiously made his way back to Nauela. Not long after having made it home however, RENAMO entered and sent cards out to the various leaders in the area requesting their presence the following afternoon. Janeiro was one of many who received the dreaded invitation, but fearing the worst, he left his wife and three kids with her parents that same evening and fled, walking from Nauela to Molócuè - a distance stretching over some 30 miles.

Arriving in Molócuè the next morning, Janeiro had to think fast. He sought out the help of an affluent Portuguese family who were good friends of his father and, upon hearing Janeiro’s predicament, the wealthy merchant gave Janeiro eight sacks of corn to transport and sell in Nampula City. With the money he raised from this rapid commodity transaction, Janeiro was able to buy a plane ticket back to Beira, but unable to inform his family directly about his plan.

Janeiro spent most of the next seven years within the confines of the relatively secure city of Beira. His wife and family, on the other hand, weren’t as lucky. Like so many others in Nauela, they were stuck. Upon RENAMO’s arrival into the community, the troops forcefully recruited Velosa and others to join their ranks – giving them a rather unappealing alternative: join the other side and we’ll kill you. Velosa was an asset as a teacher and thus was instructed to continue to give lessons. Even as the war raged around them, Velosa continued to teach classes inside makeshift grass and mud huts. To help sustain Velosa and her family, students brought whatever they could scrounge up: corn, beans, and field mice. Deprived of even the most basic learning tools, the students and teachers used twigs to write notes on available banana leaves. At some points, RENAMO soldiers brought writing pads that were no doubt stolen from who knows where. Sometimes Velosa and others would come across teachers and students who had been massacred and left to rot in the bush because they supposedly hadn’t been teaching things the soldiers liked. It was all incredibly unnerving, but especially so for Velosa.

When the war finally came to an end in 1992, Janeiro cautiously began his journey back to Nauela. Though he repeated received assurances from war-torn refugees that his family was still alive, there was always doubt because the news was typically several months old. From Beira, Janeiro first stopped in Quelimane and spent nearly a month asking around to see if anyone had any up-to-date information regarding his family. Although the news was inconclusive, he got bits and pieces hinting that most of the fighting in the Molócuè area had stopped, albeit there were still some roaming bands of fighters.

He decided to risk it.

After several days more of travel, his caravan pulled into Alto Molócuè where he spent an entire week before making the final leg of his journey. Eventually he was able to find a friend who believed Janeiro’s family was still alive and was willing to accompany him out into the bush to look for them. Arriving in Nauela, they had no trouble locating all of his family minus his middle child who had grown sick and died during the war.

Even after undergoing this tragedy, Janeiro was reluctant to permanently move back to Nauela and Velosa was unwilling to move away. In the years that followed, Velosa gave birth to one more child, Dulce, as things began to return to normal. The country had their first democratic elections in 1994 and the new government called for the former public service employees to enter back into the work force the following year. Soon after this, Janeiro finally agreed to move back to Nauela permanently as a community judge to help settle civil disputes. When Janeiro relocated to Nauela, Velosa and the children packed up and joined him at their current housing plot closer to the village’s administrative post.

Velosa presenting her daughter Dulce with a gift at the girl's Mwale ceremony.

Both employed and successful, Velosa and Janiero didn’t rest on their laurels. Velosa completed a year-long continuing education course in Mugema held weekly on Saturdays to refresh her mind and increase her pay level. Janeiro, meanwhile, went back to school in 2005 starting at 6th grade and is currently on track to finish 10th grade this year. As of 2011, Nauela’s secondary school only offered up to 10th grade, but if they were ever start an 11th or 12th grade Janeiro says he would continue on studying. Likewise, Velosa says that if Nauela were to ever get electricity, she would teach during the day and do night school… but for now that will all have to wait on the back burner.

Even though she is successful and highly esteemed doesn't mean she's exempted from the daily chores.

***

To give some more perspective on the education situation in Nauela, one must understand the educators’ mindset: disgruntled. Currently, Mozambique’s public education system practically demands that new teachers be sent to fill spots in the least desirable locations. Mozambique’s talent is highly magnetized toward the cities and thus rural placements, such as Nauela, are considered by many to be at the bottom of the barrel. Newcomers are oftentimes counting the days, weeks, months, or years till they escape. To complicate matters though, unless you successfully bribe a high ranking government official, a new teacher will be stuck at their first teaching post for at least five years before being able to even request a transfer. In spite of all this though, Velosa is one of the few home grown talents who is still around.

Largely because of the recent stretch of the destructive civil war, Mozambique’s rural teaching force is not a normally distributed curve of experienced and inexperienced teachers. There are the few who started teaching before the civil war and those who started some time after (i.e. – a decade or so later). Most are the latter. Thus, compounded with the transfer rules, even some of the most long standing teachers in Nauela have been here for only 5-10 years – this severely cripples within-staff mentoring. That said, of those who started before the civil war and who still remain active in the work force, none are as willing to help or support other teachers as Velosa.

Sisa, one of the new and upcoming female teachers in Nauela, is intimately mentored by Velosa since she lives next door in a small house owned by Velosa and Janeiro

Saturday May 7th, 2011

Now that it’s winter here and the sun doesn’t start coming up until the long-overdue hour of 5am, I’m stuck in the dark, feeling my way around the nightstand for my headlamp. I normally avoid these predawn awakenings, but today there’s no choice: it’s market day at the famous Carmano.

Grabbing a backpack and stuffing it with an assortment of supplies for the day – a wad of cash (~$20), digital camera, snacks, water, PC meds - I’m unsure exactly what the daytrip will entail and thus what will be required. When am I coming home? Will there be some food or a good water source there? Will there be any unique crafts or food items to buy?

All these questions and no answers, only anticipation.

Still rubbing my sleepy eyes as I step out of the house and onto the clay patio, a puttering, beat-up pickup truck already packed tight with other passengers comes to a rolling stop on the dirt road just feet away. Even to my well-trained eyes, it doesn’t seem there is space to get a body in edgewise in the back, but luckily my friend Zecas has saved me one of the two coveted seats up front in his prized vehicle (I’d been planning this trip for weeks and so I told Zecas the day before to reserve me a good spot).

Despite the early bird departure, the packed vehicle is no surprise. Indeed, most locals have long since started their daily routines. Since one goes to bed early and, because (whatever they call a) “bed” likely isn’t that comfy or warm to begin with, most healthy individuals are eager to get up early too. Looking around, I notice that this chapa entourage isn’t like most. Of all 20+ individuals, I am obviously the only one who is going to Carmano for pleasure. The rest of the truck’s occupants are all simply trying to make a buck by selling goods at the bush market, a market assembled in the middle of nowhere, its location set simply because it’s a center point between three decent size towns (Gurue, Molócuè, and Malema).

Arriving after an hour and a half safari through the beautiful country, I can confirm this: there’s NOTHING else there!

In the complex labyrinth of branching narrow paths leading up to the open-air market, there are no road signs indicating the presence of any noteworthy structure or event nearby. You turn right here at the tree, left there at the shrub, left again after the rock, cross a collapsing bridge made from tree trunks and then all of a sudden you’re there (more or less… you get the point)! In fact, the only hint of the market’s existence as you approach it is the ever increasing foot traffic lining the road’s edge. You can rest assured that you’re going the right way by simply following these individuals’ bearings because everyone, carrying whatever good they hope to sell on their heads from miles out, is surely headed to the same destination.

From what was once a vast abyss void of any human life, arises an anomaly, a huge burst of vitality occupying a half-mile stretch carved out in the shape of a large “T”. The road is now lined on both sides with cramped, makeshift thatch stalls where vendors are busy setting up for the day’s haul. The narrow corridor in between is completely packed with buyers, most arriving on foot from as far away as 4 hours to save on transportation costs, yet our slow moving truck magically passes through as the crowd parts and rejoins fluidly around us.

A long panoramic at the market’s ‘T’ intersection point

We’ve arrived late today.

When Zecas pulls up to his welding stall on the opposite end of the market, passengers immediately jump down from the truck bed and are off to set up and tend to their stalls to meet the morning rush. Left alone in the truck’s cab, I’m a bit overwhelmed and out of my element in this new, hectic environment. Gawking at the spectacle as I walk the market’s length, I’m amazed not by the diversity of the items that are being sold (there is none), but by the quantity. Generally speaking, what’s for sale here is the same Chinese junk that can be found at any other day market in the cities of Molócuè or Gurue, but the rural context is what makes it remarkable.

Zecas welding a bike frame back together

In a terrain where fancy footwear is highly coveted, we’ve hit a gold mine: shoes upon shoes upon shoes

The market’s main corridor crowded with people

A rural Mozambican parking lot - bikes parked, waiting for their owners to finish shopping and come claim them

Cabbage, one of the few things I found at the market tempting to take home

Motorcycle mechanics offering up their services at the day market

Traversing Carmano’s main alleyway trying to get a feel for what is being sold and for what price, I notice that many of those same women who we passed a few miles out which were carrying goods on their heads have already arrived and set up shop (i.e. – laying a small blanket on the ground and sitting alongside it).

In a way, the sight is quite comical. Many of the women have only brought a few items and will spend all day sitting in the hot sun “trying” to sell (for example) one pile of four(!) tomatoes. The clustered women are all talking amongst themselves and seem rather annoyed by any potential costumer who dares to come interrupt their fun. The whole scheme is quite a ruse. Most of the women aren’t even trying to make money… for example, several times during the day, as soon as I buy something from them, they send their child off to buy a snack to bring back and share with the family. Really, the obligatory selling is just subsidizing their socializing.

***

The name “Carmano” actually comes from an old regulo, a Mozambican community leader, that, until his death just a few years ago, was in charge of the local surrounding population. Carmano was first appointed to the position by the Portuguese (a divide and conquer class system, pitting Mozambicans against Mozambicans), but continued to function under the new Mozambican government (when FRELIMO came in to power they adopted many of the colonial governments practices to maintain hierarchical order and keep them in power). During his reign, Carmano kept a registry of the people living in his area, resolved conflicts, determined land rights, etc and for his trouble he was grant a high social status and a relatively large house.

It was around this house that the first “Carmano” market was held back in 1998. Although it had never been a large site for markets before, it proved to be a good central meeting point between Alto Molócuè, Gurue, and Malema (Nampula province) for merchants to buy produce and sell their goods to the rural population. Zecas and many others have been frequenting the site ever since the first Saturday market.

Despite its present day size, the Carmano market hasn’t actually been here (centered around a ruined Portuguese farmer’s house) for more than a few months. Even though the stalls and merchandise are numerous, the construction is all very provisional and can be dissembled/reassembled somewhere else overnight. The move to its present location (about 10 kilometers south of the old market) happened during the end of last year because the new owner of Carmano’s land started charging the venders an extra tax (10 mets ~30 cents) in addition to ones imposed by the government’s tax collectors – rendering several of the smaller vendors unable to break even. In response, one Saturday the venders collectively decided to move to the present day location where the current land owners are absent.

As I hinted earlier, the Carmano area is quite far from the nearest “main” street where cars normally pass. Currently, there are no big businesses or farms here, ensuring regular supplies and cash flow, as there once was during colonial times. Due to this lack of transportation in and out of the zone, the only way local residents can make actual money (as opposed to simple bartering) is by transporting things on their head/strapped to their bike four kilometers out to a slightly bigger road or sell them at the market on Saturdays. During my market wanderings, a lot of area residents approached me thanking me for coming here to start rehabilitating the Portuguese farm... I repeatedly had to inform them that I sadly had no such intention… They need someone with capital, good business sense, and some morals out here who can bring money and goods into the area while turning a modest profit. Let’s hope it won’t be too much longer of a wait for them!

That said, it probably won’t be. I mean, the real reason that this market thrives is because there is a high demand in the area for imported goods and there are plenty of food resources to offer up in exchange. Merchants from the cities easily fatten their wallets by buying agricultural products from these rural farmers who are all too eager to sell their crops. Pinto beans from local farmers go for 18 mets/kilo (~27 cents/lb), corn 2.5 mets/kilo (~4 cents/lb), which is good money for the farmer and cheap enough for the businessmen.

Fernando Jamal and others at the entrance of Morgado’s old house

Morgado’s living room is now a dining hall

The hallway is home to idle women and children trying to escape the sun’s rays

The kitchen is still one, but more of a self service cafeteria

A look at the back of Morgado’s house with his water tank to the right

***

Tax collectors

Growing up in Sunday school bible studies, I never really understood what was so bad about being a tax collector… yet the Bible routinely rails against them. At the Nauela market, however, I daily witness the extreme sleaziness of tax collectors that the Bible’s writers must have grown to despise. First off, they freely take food and other goods that venders are selling at their whim… keep in mind that these are people who are making next to nothing and yet there’s no mercy shown. Many are selling things like a cup of boiled peanuts for 3 cents a pop or a pile of tomatoes for 15 cents – think about all the work that went in to producing this miniscule profit and then someone demanding a large percentage off the top. It disgusts me. Secondly, although I don’t have any direct proof of this, I’m confident that the tax collectors either pocket a good portion of their earnings or are paid a handsome sum for their services judging by the size of their houses... gah!

***

Growing a little thirsty and having run out of my liter of water, I hunker down at Baptista Biriati’s tea stall located at the end of one of Carmano’s exit points. The stall is far removed from the chaos of the market’s center which allows me to have a long chat about the area’s history with the stall’s owner over a cup of his hot tea and fresh bread.

As the story unfolds, I discover that Biriati used to be one of the guards for Miguel Agosto Morgado, the old Portuguese man who used to be the owner of this property. Back in the heyday, thanks to the indentured servitude of the Mozambican locals and the fertile soil, Morgado was quite a successful farmer. He amassed wealth in the form of an enormous house, a general store, several vehicles including a large truck and tractor, a tobacco curing barn, a granary, herds of cattle, and water tank with a pump pulling water from the nearby river.

Morgado lived with his wife and son, but the wife died after undergoing a surgical operation in South Africa one year. He and his son, Mario, continued to live in Mozambique after her death with the son eventually also becoming quite successful on his own farm just up the road. Some time later, the older Morgado died and the younger fled the country as the new Mozambican government sought to nationalize all privately owned enterprises.

The subsequent years, without any new capital investments and a civil war raging on in the surrounding countryside, were hard times for the farm and the area residents that had grown to depend on it. The buildings, supplies, and machinery were all looted and locals were subjected to harsh conditions and cruelty by roaming bands of soldiers. Indeed, Baptista claims that he spend nearly 17 years deprived of even the most basic of luxuries, going the whole time without so much as eating even a grain of salt (RENAMO forces during the civil war maintained control of the bush and prohibited people from eating salt saying it was a sign of having sided with FRELIMO – FRELIMO forces were known to hand out supplies to their allies).

These war years hardened the middle-aged Biriati, now 75. After the peace accords, Biriati sought out any way possible to earn a living. The market in Carmano provides some hope, but he’s a little too old to regularly complete all the required physical labor to make headway for a budding small business (at one point he was having to bike 50 kilometers each way to Molócuè and back to buy supplies at a reasonable rate). At one point he came up with the idea to jerry-rig a broken-down bicycle with a metal-cutting saw blade to sharpen knifes and machetes, but once the contraption was replicated by several other area young men he was out of a job again. Nowadays, Biriati just sells tea and bread in a little grass hut at the market’s fringes, hoping and praying for someone to give him a job - not something too different than how many feel in today’s U.S. job market, I guess….

***

Med man from Malawi

Dolling out ambiguous amounts of unmarked pink and white pills by the spoonful, he is the rural African pharmacist. Sometimes not even meeting the actual patient, but rather having to diagnose an illness based on another family member’s account, he also acts as their physician. He is their alpha and omega… the only one in the market who is providing this service and possibly the only one within 50 miles who has this product.

He’s in a hurry. The waiting line is already big and it’s growing.

Impatiently, the medicine man, casually outfitted in jeans and a faded brown jacket with a navy blue baseball cap, listens to the symptoms being rattled off by a patient’s husband. Pretty soon though he’s compelled to interrupt in order to complete the lightening-fast consult quicker. “What exactly is your wife feeling?” A cough, stomach and head pains. “Does she have fever?” No. “Has she taken any other meds?” No… Okay, that’s enough information.

He reaches for the supposed antidote, quickly scribbling basic dosage instructions on plastic bag that are barely legible, then the patient is taught how many pills to take (1 or 2) and when to take them (morning, night, or both) – not for how long, mind you. That part is understood no matter what anyone else says… you take them until you feel better. If you were to take any more afterwards, that’d be a waste of medicine (never mind issues of resistance…).

Obviously there is no credential verification process involved with these transactions and that is no problem for anyone who is lining up at his table. Thing is, medicine isn’t highly regulated in Mozambique anyways. You and I can go to a pharmacy and ask for whatever pills we want (without a prescription, mind you) and as long as the meds aren’t intense pain killers (which they often don’t have anyways) you’ll get what you are asking for if you have the money to pay for it (generally not too expensive ~$3 USD or less).

That’s just it though, there are no set prices in this black market. Since he’s the only one in the area, he can charge an arm and a leg if he wants. “How much will it cost?”, the customer asks. Long pause. This is always a tense moment because the medicine man is sizing up how much the guy wants it and how much he’d be able to pay. In this case, it’s two packs for 20 mets. Whew! There is an air of relief among all parties as the desperate husband is able to pay for the medicine for his ailing wife.

My inquisitive presence at the stall worries the buyers and seller alike because even though everyone at local level knows people go to other neighboring countries (i.e. - Malawi) to buy large quantities of medicine to sell here, it is still illegal and high up government officials might have to act if things go public. Admittedly, no one at the booth has any formal training, but there’s a paradox because people in Nauela need a regular supply of medicine.

And we all know the hospital isn’t providing it!

For example, if all you avid blog followers remember, just this past Christmas the granddaughter of the owner of my house in Nauela died because there was no medicine available to treat her. This problem is not uncommon and thus people come to the market and stock up in case of emergency because, not sonly are the hospital’s medical supplies sporadic, oftentimes when one is sick it is most difficult to go seek medical treatment.

After witnessing the ever-lengthening line here at the impromptu clinic, it now makes a little more sense to me why my friends and neighbors here always ask about my family’s health… it’s because theirs’ is always in doubt.

Understandably, the medicine man from Malawi is really worried about me taking pictures. It took a lot of convincing just to let me take this picture of laid out meds on the table... Notice that two of the more prominent medicines pictured above are birth control and malaria treatment pills, definitely needed, but hard to find here in Nauela.

Monday May 9th, 2011

Today I’m finally feeling a little better so I decide to go to Mihecane to meet up with Pastor Vicente. It’s a Monday, which is always a stretch to meet with him since he is normally working both Saturdays and Sundays, but I don’t have anything better to do and I could always use the exercise on my bike. I arrive at Mihecane finding the church office’s doors shut and no one being much help in answering my questions. Before turning around and calling it a day though, I decide to take a breather and read some.

Sitting in front of church office for an hour or so, I discover the Mihecane primary school to seemingly be in permanent state of recess… which is understandable in some ways because teachers don’t get paid that well and, more often than not, the school directors aren’t there to provide any supervision. My unexpected presence in Mihecane eventually makes the teachers scurry the kids inside where they’ll wait until I’m gone to at least put up the façade that they were educating these children (it’s always like this when I arrive and Vicente isn’t around)…

***

Later that afternoon I get into an interesting discussion with Velosa (the owner of my house who is also a primary school teacher in Nauela). She explains to me that nowadays school is public and the government runs it. Back in Portuguese times, however, the Catholic mission ran all local schools in Nauela. At that time, even the select few Mozambicans who were really dedicated to getting an education only attended school till 3rd or 4th grade max. Oftentimes, however, those students left with a better education than many kids nowadays who study until 8th, 9th, or 10th grade.

She can’t emphasize it enough: back then, only the people that were really motivated to study went. Nowadays almost everyone goes.

In Mozambique this stretches financial and personnel resources incredibly thin and severely limits the amount of student-teacher time that can happen since class sizes often range from 80-100 students. In many ways, the class dilemma mirrors a societal problem that starts with the family. Nearly every family has 6+ kids so there’s very little 1-on-1 parental coaching. Although many of the younger generation’s parents didn’t study what these kids are learning (due to collateral damage to schools during the civil war and thus would be much help with the advanced curriculum), even the lost non-academic individual learning experience must be critically detrimental to a young child’s future.

As an example of the learning struggles, a few weeks back I went to a 9th grade Portuguese language class and several students couldn’t correctly spell elementary words such as “Por favor” (please) or even “Não” (no): very discouraging to say the least!

I’m not saying that the teachers, students, or anyone for that matter are at fault. But I also refuse to accept the lame argument that this is just a matter of growing pains, that things will simply get better over time. With the current system teaching blanket curriculum to an incredibly diverse population of individuals across Mozambique who have markedly different economic resources, and thus future possibilities, I think many rural students fail to see any applicable nature in their education and simply go to school because it’s mandated, free, and something to do. These kids pretty much only want to play the day away and disrupt the class’s academic education plan as a whole. On the other hand, those select few who do excel academically and continue on into 11th and 12th grade in Molócuè, Gurue, or Nampula are much less likely to return to benefit rural areas, such as Nauela, where there are no salaried jobs available.

I think that instead of force feeding everyone a general education, the government should try to recruit and retain small numbers of motivated students to teach them very basic math, science, reading and writing skills and then go to a technical education (agriculture or animal midwifery) afterwards if desired. The other mandated curriculum (i.e. – advanced physics, biology, chemistry, etc) that most students never grasp and/or are never even interested in should be available, but taught as a higher level elective instead.

I haven’t made my mind up on all this, but it’s just my two cents as of now…

***

More Technology = More Pornography?

My neighbor Ditosa comes up to me on front veranda today as I’m fidgeting with my phone in one hand and happily states “Let’s watch the pornography on your phone!” Wha-wha-what?! is my obviously stunned reaction. “Yeah, this phone has it right? I’ll show it to you… every fancy phone in Mozambique comes with pornography on in it.”

After showing her that my phone definitely DOES NOT have pornographic videos on it, I try to get into a conversation about the subject with her since she brought it up, but understandably she gets embarrassed and runs away. Throughout the day I speak with several other friends about the thought process of it and ultimately it appears that it’s not really about the content at all. It’s more so about just being able to experience the technology of watching a video on your phone… and pornography just happens to be the most widespread video content available in Mozambique… imagine that :-/

Thursday May 12th – Tuesday May 17th, 2011

Even though Peace Corps doesn’t know this yet, Amanda’s and my Peace Corps days are now officially numbered. May 15th was the commitment date for medical school and even though I’d long since decided in my mind that I’d be returning home “early” to start medical school at the University of Florida this Fall, now it’s official. So that’s not really news for most of you out there who know me, but what is news is that Amanda will be joining me in leaving early to go visit California for a month or so before moving to Gainesville and starting her state residency process with the goal of going back to grad school in Fall 2012. I’d been eyeing July as my end date, but since she’ll be leaving in early June for her timeline… I figured, hey, why not leave with her?! Right now we’re looking at June 6th as the date to call Peace Corps to start the leaving process (only 3 weeks away!), but that could always change…

With that new leave date in mind, Amanda came to Nauela this week to say goodbye to my neighbors and her almost (because she’s been here so much!) second PC home. Although her final visit was brief (I’ll explain why in a sec), she went out with a big bang because she gave thoughtful presents (her lightly used clothing) to all of the girls and women who she had grown close to during the past year and a half. While it’s still up in the air, tentatively it looks like I’ll be going to Morrumbala at the end of May (~2 weeks from now) to say goodbye to her friends and neighbors there who I’ve gotten close to.

***

I feel like a broken record saying this, but life can become very unpredictable and difficult when having to rely on public transportation in Mozambique. Take, for example, today. Amanda and I are ready to leave my house for Gurue at 11am (a drive doable in 2 hours), but not a single car passes during the whole afternoon. We remain vigilant though and are finally rewarded for our efforts with one slow moving truck that passes at dusk. Glancing at one another for a moment, searching for a sign of approval, we decide to jump on knowing that we might not be able to fit the hike up Mt. Namuli in our cramped schedule if we don’t leave Nauela tonight.

It’s not until very late that night that we arrive safely, albeit tired, in Gurue. Despite our exhaustion, we remain determined to stay on schedule and start hiking to the base camp the following day. After making some frantic midnight phone calls to our guide (Rambo – same guy as last year), we coordinate a midmorning start time without discussing any other logistics.

The late start allows Amanda and me to scurry around Gurue buying supplies: sugar, xima, and gin to appease the mountains spirits as well as some peanut butter and bread to fill our stomachs. (Lost in all the hubbub is me remembering to bring the money to pay for a license to hike up the mountain… luckily, I decide to bring my wallet and whole travelling allowance with us rather than safe guarding it in PCV friend’s house in Gurue... it turns out to be just enough, whew!) Also, randomly, an expat we meet right before we leave town lends me a GPS device to carry along with us to map the trail route … it’s an interesting little gadget… He says he wants to put the trail’s GPS info up on Wikipedia or something… and if he is true to his word he’ll give me credit for it! That’d be cool, but I’m not hold my breath :-)

Although Amanda might scoff at this, in my opinion the first day’s hike from the city of Gurue to the mountain’s base is a lot quicker and easier this year. Last year Noemi, Yohko and I hiked the trail during the rainy season where one must stick to the main road rolling up and down along the mountain’s highlands. This year, on the other hand, Amanda and I are able to make a short cut through the low-lying valley on a relatively flat path - almost cutting 2 ½ hours off the first day’s journey. To make matters even better for me, for whatever reason, the tendonitis in my right knee that plagued me for most of the hike last year never acts up throughout the entire journey this year. Yay!

Having just made it through the tea fields, Amanda and I are ready to head up to the first mountain pass on our way to base camp

Just look at her, she loves it! Amanda taking a break with her sugar cane in hand...

The cloud-covered Mount Namuli as a rewarding backdrop for a good morning's hike

Amanda precariously crossing a river as we take the much-advised short cut to the lowlying valley path

We arrive to base camp at the foot of Namuli (pictured above) just as the sun is setting

Arriving to the Macunha village, where the Queen of the mountain lives, not much has changed since the year before. From what I could tell, no new houses had been constructed and no new faces had appeared. One thing that is noticeably different, however, is the food availability. Last year even though we arrived in the middle of the lush rainy season, no real produce was available yet; everything was still growing in the fields so we ate xima and dried fish. This year, however, arriving at the start of the dry season, we eat like kings: xima with pinto beans… a pleasant surprise and a definite step up!

Despite her general hospitality, the Queen doesn’t have many blankets to offer up to keep us warm during the bitterly cold, windy night - only one in fact, an extra small twin blanket for Amanda and I to share and a mere bedsheet for our guide…. Needless to say, we all suffer. Even though we are dead tired, the brutally low temperatures and a never-ending, subconscious battle over the blanket keep Amanda and I awake for most of the night. As we fade in and out of sleep, our bodies’ instinctively grasp and tug for more covering. Unfortunately, the blanket couldn’t fully wrap around us unless we were both on our sides and tightly spooning (very uncomfortable on the woven mat sprawled out across the bumpy, dirt floor) - and even then not really that well.

At one point during the night, I give up on the fight over the blanket, roll away from Amanda and welcome the cold in. Unbeknownst to me, she’s wide awake and deeply hurt by my gesture, even shedding silent tears. I don’t entirely appreciate the gravity of the situation, but mentally recover enough to understand that I need to retreat back to embracing Amanda in our moment of frustration. A few hours later, desperately wanting to be warm again, I anxiously peer out of the hut hoping to see some sign of morning light. Checking my watch, however, I’m brought crashing back down to reality: it’s only 12:45am so there’s still plenty more cold to endure before any having relief.

The next morning we all practically run out of the hut at the first hint of light. We aren’t necessarily organized for that day’s mountain hike yet, but know we are ready to be out of that cold death trap. Before we can ascend though, we have to complete a ceremony to appease the mountain’s spirits and ask for our safe passage. The ceremony was simple enough, the queen and a local male leader saying some words in the local dialect as they offer up two plates of freshly-ground corn mill we brought from Gurue.

After the ceremony wraps up, we start the assent at a leisurely pace. After hiking for an hour through an overgrown path of tall grass and starting up the exposed rocky mountainside, we ask our guide if it’ll take us much longer to reach the top, being generous I suggest two more hours… it’s just right there after all. He smiles. “It’ll be more than two hours for sure. We still haven’t done anything yet.”

I doubt his assertion, assuming he is just trying to play some mind games with us (Why? I don’t know…). But in the end he was dead on. It would be another three hours before we’d finally summit. When we reach a point after having climbed for two hours, already having had to crabwalk/crawl across smooth, slippery rocks with impending death below, our guides inform us that this is only the halfway point and the hardest part is what lies ahead of us. “Are you kidding me?” At this moment, Amanda and I second guess ourselves and the whole trip in general. “Maybe we should just stay down here... no one will know if we say otherwise.” Eventually we convince ourselves to at least try the final climb (literally vertical at points) remembering that other PCVs we know have made it up. We continue upwards, me, however, all the while silently thinking “Supposedly! But who’s to say they REALLY made it to the top?!”

Seriously though!

Amanda at the half way point… with the hardest part yet to come!

I can’t emphasize it enough: the final two hours leading up to the mountain summit are relentless 60-70+ degree inclines with no artificial handholds or safety devices. It’s only us and nature. Gazing out at the surrounding countryside it makes it look even more frightening than it probably is, but still… Our primary saviors, the only thing between us and tumbling down the mountainside, are these steadfast strands of long mountain grasses that somehow have taken hold and burrowed deep into the centimeters of dirt sporadically across the large rock face. If the plant gives way at the root or the individual grass leaves break under our weight, we will be sliding down the slope towards who knows what. We aren’t even to the top yet and in the distance I can already pick out the unique mountain peaks located just outside of Alto Molócuè, a good 70 kilometers away.

Here, you really are looking down on the Earth from the heavens.

During the last stretch it’s actually scarier to think about going down than it is to continue going up. So you must stay in the moment and keep climbing ever higher. The final main obstacle is a rock crevasse where one must boulder 10-15 meters almost straight up wedging oneself in small cracks and grabbing on to any rock out pouching with all one’s life force. You are almost done. Tired and wasted, but motivated strongly by the desire to reach the final destination after having come all this way.

The final stretch, just have to shimmy up that vertical crevasse...

Then suddenly you’re miraculously there. The crevasse gives way to a pleasant walking assent to the summit’s highest point. You are welcomed in grand style: the mountain rewarding its determined pilgrims with a natural water source that doesn’t ever leave the mountain top. Cold fresh water never tasted so good!

We can’t stay for long on top. We enjoy the moment, the view, the conquest of a real challenge. 2419 meters or 7936 vertical feet, but that doesn’t even begin to tell the story because there is also the 60+ kilometers going and coming from Gurue that must be overcome on foot. Wow! We take pictures, snack, chat, and laugh. Listening to the various myths about the mountain from our guides while looking out across the lowlands, it’s not hard to see why this spot is so scared in Northern Mozambique’s folklore. “This is the spot where locals place offerings to the spirits, down there are fossilized footprints of ancient human beings and animals (we weren’t permitted to go over and see them), during the rainy season one can see mysterious gnomes who live on the mountain, Mount Namuli is the starting point of all civilization, etc… one mountain, but the stories go on forever and ever…

Amanda and I embracing at the top! So pretty!

Jumping for joy! Yay!

Nothing above us but clouds…

Heaven under our feet :-)

The “hike” down the mountain doesn’t really happen per se. No, it quickly morphs into more of a scoot down on our butts and all fours. Trying not to look too far out or down at the daunting task ahead of us, we inch our way down almost as slowly as we came up. My jeans, already stitched up in the back from a previous accident, break fully open again and are left hanging down for the remainder of the journey home. Before we know it though, we are at the bottom of the mountain and that which lay ahead of us doesn’t look nearly as intimidating as the thought of spending another night in the cold mud hut. It is 2:30pm and despite our guide warning us that we’d arrive late into Gurue, we quickly scarf down lunch (some more xima and beans) and head out back towards town.

Amanda and I with the Queen of the mountain after the climb

Amanda’s hip had begun to bother her during the descent from the summit and as we are on our journey back to Gurue a pain in her outer right knee has her thinking she won’t be able to make it. That was before we had even hit the mountain pass – still a three hour trek from the Gurue city limits when you are going at a good pace. Amanda, with some encouragement, makes it step by step down the dark, rock filled path bearing the terrible pain for seemingly endless hours. As we approach the final stretch through Gurue’s famous tea fields, we telephone Joe, an American friend of ours working in the area, and he is able to arrange a last minute tea field rescue mission for us. Although it is dark and the paths in the fields are numerous and largely indistinguishable, we are eventually found and whisked safely back to the comforts of Julia’s house.

We spend the entire next day recovering from our adventure then go our separate ways – her to Morrumbala and me back to Nauela. In so many ways the trip, although extremely difficult, was a great success! That said, I’m not sure if Amanda will ever forgive me for this one ;-)

Thursday May 26th, 2011

Upon my arrival back in Nauela, I start spreading the word to inform people in surrounding communities that I don’t see daily about my quickly approaching departure date. Sadly, this includes Pastor Vicente in Mihecane and Fernando Jamal in Malapa, the two individuals who I’ve worked most extensively with during my year and a half in Nauela.

Looking at my remaining days in Nauela, I reason to go out and visit Pastor Vicente today in order to say goodbye to all the church leaders and community before leaving for Morrumbala. Although I wasn’t sure what to expect of it, the farewell trip turns out to be way better than I ever could have expected it to be. Everyone who I’ve worked with in Mihecane during my time in Nauela is there, all the pastors, the mothers who helped with Art Therapy, and even the head carpenter for the carpentry project.

I take several pictures with church leaders and they prepare an impromptu goodbye luncheon inside the old missionary house just for the occasion. Before the meal’s blessing, Pastor Vincent gives an extended thank you to me recounting all the things, to the best of his memory, which I’ve been involved with at the church and then asked me to say a few words. It was all very genuine and touching… Definitely one of those heart-warming, “Glad I did Peace Corps!” moments :-)

Friday May 27th, 2011 - Gaining the Competitive Edge

Normally, I think it would be a good thing to promote some healthy competition into the business markets in Nauela. That said, turns out that when you do it with chapa drivers it is a very distressing experiment! Imagine this: two over crowded, large vehicles speeding down a winding, bumpy dirt road constantly leapfrogging one another as the other stops to pick up passengers. It’s all enough to make my balding head lose a few more hairs, GAH!

Another interesting observation regarding competition in transportation is that people which are normally the foundation of passengers on an open-back chapa (i.e. – people with a lot of baggage or produce) all of a sudden become marginalized because they now are considered to take too long to load up. Meanwhile, others who are often neglected are now gold mines, women with children – the babies can be noisy and annoying, but oftentimes the women don’t tend to openly complain, are quick to jump on board, and pay 1 ½ price.

All of this competition is due to a new kid in town – an enclosed mini bus daily running the Alto Molócuè-Nauela-Gurue route. The enclosed bus is generally much preferred by passengers and veteran local chapa drivers are having to get creative to out maneuver the new competition.

Although I’m not sure how I feel about the Nauela 500 that is resulting, I (think) would like to see more competition in other businesses in Nauela. Right now, practically everything here is a commodity good. There’s absolutely no differentiation between any products. Markets, for example, routinely look like this: five tables set up next to each other selling the exact same salt, crackers, and vegetables. One of the only differences is the quantity of product that a vender has available to sell. It really is a testament to their patience that business owners are able to stay open for any length of time. I know I could never do it! That said, some progressively-minded individuals are starting to use solar-powered music systems to lure people in to drinking establishments and sell their commodity goods on the side… good initiative, just wish the effort could be used on something more beneficial to the community :-/

Saturday May 28th, 2011

This weekend, a movie crew is in Quelimane to finish shooting Tatu, an artsy European film that depicts a love affair back in colonial Africa. The film crew has actually been shooting in Gurue for the past three months or so, but for this last scene they needed a lot of white people for a colonial-era party scene. After dancing our hearts out and having a lot of fun the director informs us that they hope the film will debut in the 2012 Cannes film festival. Can’t wait to see if I actually get any screen time! :-)

BTW, you can check out this website for more info on the movie http://www.komplizenfilm.de/e/tabu.html

Monday May 30th – Wednesday June 1st, 2011

After being star struck by the possibilities of the glamorous movie life ;-), I reluctantly pass up my Hollywood calling to go to Morrumbala in order to say goodbye to Amanda’s neighbors, the Save The Children office staff, and the local missionaries. I’m not there for long unfortunately because I need to run back to Nauela to get myself packed up, but one of the biggest highlights was definitely going to prayer night with missionaries on Tuesday. We prayed about a lot of things, two of the biggest concerns being Amanda’s ever-present bug problem and my mom’s pending diagnosis about a possible reoccurrence of her brain tumor (*note - in the end, both prayer requests were heard!).

Thursday June 2nd, 2011 - Conflicting signs

I arrived back into Nauela late yesterday afternoon following a GREAT day of transportation. Seriously, all the way from the Morrumbala to Alto Molócuè there was nothing but a whole lot of really good boleias, or free rides... the last one going straight to Mugema (only 14 kilometers from Nauela) so I didn’t even have to wait in Molócuè (that’s NEVER happened before!)

Since I didn’t really get to explore the neighborhood yesterday evening before dark, I wake up today to discover the Vodacom tower having a new addition: a BIG antenna that supposedly will allow the tower to start functioning within the next week. How ironic!?! As soon as I’m about to head about to America it’s finally ready to start working! That said, we’ll see if it actually happens or not. Even though it looks pretty complete, people have been saying it’ll start working ‘soon’ for the past several months!

With both these instances, it’s almost like Mozambique is saying, “No Michael! Please don’t go! I’ll be nicer” ;-)

On the other hand, the nearest water pump, located just across the road from my house, broke down during my trip to Morrumbala and they aren’t sure if they’ll be able to fix it without outside help. Luckily, there is another water pump located just 100 yards down the hill from me (comparatively not THAT far away). Unfortunately though, one must carry the water UP the hill after pumping it... Nothing better than having to cart a lot of water up hill on a post-travel laundry day! Gah!

Maybe it IS time for me to get going after all…

After washing my clothes, I start taking down, cleaning up, and packing all the things that I’ll be bringing back with me to the States. Because of Amanda’s persistent bug problem, we’ve decided to move up the date to call the Peace Corps to Friday instead of Monday so I’m a little crunched for time. I eventually need to rest though so I stroll down the road to my cell phone spot in order to talk with Amanda and check the internet.

It’s crazy how much an instant can change everything.

Moments before arriving and checking my phone, I vividly remember happily meandering over to the cell phone spot while making chitchat along the way with friends and neighbors. As I passed the crew working on the Vodacom tower, I hoped out loud that it would be functional before I left site in a few days. At the same time, I was worrying about calling up Kristie, my Peace Corps supervisor, the following day to tell her that Amanda and I were resigning. Eyeing my post-PC future, I contemplated whether it would be smart to try and invest in a condo when I got back to Gainesville and, of course, what med school life would be like especially with Amanda joining me in Florida :-)… my mind was scattered everywhere and although there was some worry it was a whole lot of excitement!

Then I turned on my phone and checked my email.

The inbox was fuller than normal and the first message that caught my eye was from my friend Carmen because she doesn’t usually write me. Scanning her email, I was confused… “Wait, my mom isn’t sick…” then it hit me, there had been another email that I had skipped over because I thought it likely was just a “Hey! How things going?” email... It wasn’t. It was actually my mom informing me that her primary care physician and radiologist had tentatively determined that her brain tumor from over 30 years ago was reoccurring and she needed to be transferred over to see a specialist.

Standing next to the infamous pole in front of Nauela’s primary school (my current go-to location for cell phone calls) I suddenly broke down sobbing as the possible ramifications of the message hit me. “Will my mom undergo chemo? Is she going to have to have surgery? If so, what’s the chance she’ll suffer nerve damage from the procedure? Is there a chance that she’ll die?” all these and more are questions that weighed heavily down on me. While a few onlookers gawked at my public display of emotion – no one, especially a man, cries in public - I stood hunched over, leaning on the pole totally unaware.

After having experienced that feeling, I now confidently say that there must be few things in the world worse than that overwhelming helplessness of being too far away to reach out and comfort your loved ones in their time of need… it just plain sucks!

In an instant, I call Amanda to tell her what has just happened and inform her about what I’m going to do. I need to get home as soon as possible and am going to tell Peace Corps that now. Hysterically, I call Kristie and before I even know what has happened, it’s done. The wheels are now turning and, although we haven’t left our sites yet, we’ve already officially begun our journey home.

Details are fuzzy, but initially it appears that Amanda and I will be busing to Nampula on Saturday to do our exit medical exams and then flying to Maputo on Monday before eventually heading back home some time later next week. Not sure of the exact schedule yet, but I hope to surprise both of my parents when arriving back in Gainesville! I really hope it lifts my mom’s spirits… especially after reassuring her that I didn’t leave early just because of her. I can’t believe it! Literally, it was the day before I was going to call Peace Corps anyways… Crazy!

Saturday June 4th, 2011

And that’s it. I look through my emptied house and I can’t even begin to grasp what it means. For as long as I can remember I wanted to serve in Peace Corps and now, having lived here for over a year and a half, this part of my life is over. Although I’ve long since considered a career in international health, even then who knows how close I’ll ever come to living in rural context quite like this, building intimate relationships with neighbors that largely consider me an equal.

It’s these precious relationships that I’m going to miss the most.

Fittingly, the owners of my house and Wiado’s family are there at the end. I swing open my front and back doors just as the sun begins to overtake the horizon. It’s not that I’m in a hurry to get away, but I must catch the first chapa out of Nauela to assure that I get to Molócuè in time to meet Amanda on our way up to Nampula. Inviting Janeiro and Velosa in, I hand back over their house, relinquishing the keys and giving them instructions about a few items I had promised to give to individuals and have left behind.

As the sputtering sounds of the chapa near, everyone stops their morning routines and comes to give me a final hug goodbye. Janeiro, Velosa, Dulce, Wiado, Olympio, Sara, and Machel are all there – the only one missing is Salimo who is hiding behind his family’s house crying. I don’t go after him. I simply way goodbye as he sneaks a quick look around the house’s corner. If I did much more, I believe thatt it would just cause him more trauma… even his dad leaving to go to the market for the day causes a stir with him so I can’t imagine what he is feeling now. In fact, general speaking, people in rural Mozambique are not used to saying farewell. Even if someone happens to leave the area, they almost always do so with a plan to return home soon.

After I’ve loaded up all my luggage, two suitcases and a backpack, the driver informs me that he’s actually heading back to Nauela’s marketplace to get a few more passengers so I can delay my departure a few minutes if I’d would like to. I elect to stay on though, not only to avoid having a long, drawn-out goodbye but also because I’m ready. I came to Peace Corps to do many things: serve to the people of Mozambique to the best of my ability, gain a cultural appreciation of the way people here live, learn another language, travel, gain perspective guiding my future career endeavors, building friendships, etc and those expectations were not only met, but in many ways exceeded.

As I hunker down in a comfortable spot on top of some sacks of corn in the back of the truck, I wave goodbye to the people I’d grown so close to over the past year and a half. Up until that point I had surprised myself, caught up in the logistics of the morning, by not having been too emotional. Seeing Velosa tearing up though as the car started to move, I completely lost it. My eyes began gushing, not out of sadness of having to leave this all behind, but because of a huge joy welling up inside of me of how wonderful it has been. Despite the general hardships and conflicts over work issues, I loved the experience and wouldn't trade it for anything.

My last memories of Nauela were somewhat a highlight reel of my experience as a whole. The victory lap set in motion by the chapa carried me back across the length of the village, allowing me to witness, for the last time in the foreseeable, the houses of my friends (Janeiro, Wiado, Albertina, Joakim, Nunes, Ali, Fernando Jamal, Portugal, etc) where I had spent many an afternoon hanging out, Milevane where the Catholic priests and nuns hosted Amanda and I, Mihecane where I fell in love with a church community, the marketplace where I regularly scrounged and bartered for food, Mount Nauela, Nepo and Tutu which I all climbed, the water pumps where I carted all my crystal clear water from, the health post, schools and administrative buildings where I regularly held and attended meetings, the pole and the mango trees where I struggled daily to telephone from, the Vodacom tower that never was, and one last glimpse of the bamboo-fenced in house that I called home for my entire Peace Corps experience.

Fittingly, as the chapa finally drove by my house on the way out of town, everyone had already jumped back into their morning work and things seemed normal again. Although I know my presence will be missed by those that had grown close to me, I also realize, and am happy, that I was no savoir for any one individual or group and that no one will now be unable to continue doing what they’ve been doing without me there. I see so much promise in the people of Nauela and wish nothing but the best for all those here that I’ve grown to love and care for. I can’t wait till I return one day in the future and rejoice in their successes.

Thursday April 7th, 2011

It’s 3am and I’m wide awake.

This time it’s not the loud pelting rain, stagnant humid air, or wild yelping dogs that regularly interrupt my sleep... no, this time it’s a totally different monster; one that’ll wreak havoc not only on my sleep tonight, but, unbeknownst to me, will continue to haunt me for the rest of the month…

Slumped down, sweating, and staring at my living room’s patched cement floor, I mentally debate about whether or not I’d have time to get up, reach the front door, and open it before spewing out whatever foul concoction is rumbling in my stomach. Before I even have time to act on the possibility though, my body lurches forward as my abdomen intensely contracts. At the moment, it felt like the world’s strongest man was trying to wring every last drop out my stomach… but surprisingly, and rather unsatisfyingly, nothing was there to squeeze out. The tainted food that I had stuffed in my mouth only hours earlier had sunk deeper into my system than my body, or I, had suspected, leaving me to deal with the consequences the hard way – wait for it to pass.

Although you can’t ever be 100% sure here in Mozambique what exactly got you sick, in this case it’s pretty obvious:

I shouldn’t have eaten those day and a half old, unrefrigerated coconut beans. Definitely shouldn’t have eaten ‘em.

Just the thought of my last meal makes me revert into more fits of dry heaving - my body searching for a release, but always coming up just short. I eventually gather the courage and make a break for it. Hurriedly I unlock my front door, unlatch the steel grate further impeding me, and rush out on to the breezy veranda. On most nights, Nauela’s sky is quite a marvelous sight. When the moon isn’t too bright and there’s not any cloud cover, your wide-eyes witness every constellation mankind has ever imagined and then some. But tonight is different. My mind is withdrawn from all that beauty as I try to simply absorb more of the cool night air that is slowly encompassing my body and calming my stomach pains.

I sit and rest outside my house for over an hour, feeling horrible and not wanting to move, but with my heavy eyelids pleading for a release all the while. Despite my illness begging me to stay put, I reason that nodding off on my open veranda isn’t the best idea. Thus, I grudgingly retreat back inside and almost immediately pass out, tightly curled up on my bed.

While the sunrise brings a clatter of noises from the neighboring houses, I can’t even bear to think about leaving my bedroom, much less pass outside the front door. Laying comatose in my bed as the sun and wind battle to heat and cool my tin roof, I spend the daylight hours absently listening to the sound of the torquing metal being reshaped again and again all the while wondering… How long will this feeling last?

I don’t have any idea.

And maybe that was for the best… because sometimes when it rains, it pours, and no matter what you do or what medicine you take, that heavy, aching feeling just won’t go away. And in the meantime, the common illnesses that your body is constantly coming in contact with here in Nauela can now easily overrun your weakened defenses - assuring that things are sure to get much worse before they get any better.

***

Now that I think of it though, eating some of the local termite delicacies might not have helped the situation either….

Even with a not so good stomach, I just HAD to try ‘em… everyone was doing it!

Sunday April 10th – Monday April 18th, 2011

Rushing to the bathroom every few minutes or simply setting up camp, lounging on the toilet because the bowel movements don’t seem to ever stop – it’s under these conditions that I must try to work/live/survive here in rural Mozambique when sick. Even simple things though can get complicated.

Take, for example: my bathroom.

In one sense, I’m lucky because I have a “normal,” Western-style toilet that’s inside my house (opposed to an outdoor latrine). Without running water however, that same luxury can quickly become quite a hassle. Lacking any house helper, sick or not, I must go wait in long lines at the community borehole just to be able to pump and carry water back and forth between my house. As one can imagine, it can become quite a time consuming and laborious process the more one needs to flush the toilet. And because whoever installed my bathroom didn’t put traps on the sink and shower drains, the pungent aroma stubbornly remains even after a thorough flushing.

Luckily though, these days are numbered because FGH has conveniently scheduled a meeting for us PCVs in Quelimane on Monday. Thus on Sunday morning the FGH crew comes and whisks me away in their private vehicle. In the matter of a few short hours, I’m comfortably sprawled out in an air-conditioned hotel room with a private bathroom equipped with running water… Oh the amenities that impress me now.

Surprisingly, I’m feeling pretty good by the time the next day’s meeting rolls around and don’t outwardly show any signs hinting at my sub-par health. Thus, after sitting at a roundtable discussion with FGH higher-ups for half a day talking NGO jargon about the importance of improving food security all over Zambezia, it’s no surprise to me when my provincial supervisor insists that I visit both Morrumbala and Mopeia this week to do Permaculture trainings with local associations that are partnered there with FGH. Despite my teetering health, I didn’t put up much of a fight. After all, I’ll take any opportunity to make an extra trip to Morrumbala where the love of my life is :-)

First up is Morrumbala.

Everything goes well with the training. The group of 25 or so participants is a mixture of leaders from several local associations. Many people seem interested and it’s encouraging to me to see how gung-ho some individuals are about the new agriculture knowledge. I just hope they actually put it to use after the training (Sadly, I visit Morrumbala several weeks later and, although the FGH staff says people have begun implementing the techniques at their houses, the demonstration plot has gone almost completely untouched since I left). As the training wraps up, I feel a little tired but overall I’m holding up well physically.

Interestingly enough, in Morrumbala I find myself reunited with Rocha, my former Alto Molócuè FGH counterpart who was transferred here some time ago. Unimpressed with his work performance in the field back then, it’s remarkable to see him go at it now. When he started as an AIC (Community Intervention Assistant) it was one of the lowest, most ambiguous positions on FGH’s totem pole. Now however, after countless rounds of hirings and a tremendous organizational restructuring, suddenly the AIC position sits practically as second-in-command at the district level. Rocha now efficiently and ruthlessly manages five area Community Facilitators (other FGH field workers). The added job responsibilities, although largely undeserved in my opinion, suit Rocha well because he can sit in a comfortable office all day checking emails, writing reports, and not have to actually get his hands dirty in the field. Every once in a while, after letting some underling organize an event, the high-ranking position also allows him to swoop in, say a few words as a capstone, and claim everything as his own baby. Which is just what he’s good at! Glad to see things working out for him… %-)

Next up, Mopeia! (and this is where things start to get rough…)

Finishing up the Permaculture training in Morrumbala on Thursday morning, I have exactly 10 minutes to gather my belongings before traveling two hours along a terribly bumpy road to Mopeia in order to start another training that very same afternoon. The transition day takes a lot out of me, but I’m still going strong after having gotten a glimpse of the light at the end of the tunnel. The Mopeia group, while interested in the material, is very moody and skeptical. It’s understandable though because, due to some miscommunication with FGH, the group of 29 individuals had been incorrectly informed twice about the starting time and date of our training. Thus, when I appear on Thursday afternoon and begin the session, many people have already been waiting around a day and a half for my arrival.

During the second day of the training in Mopeia, my body finally succumbs to the external forces long acting upon it and I take a sharp turn south. I begin feeling it a little after lunch - fever, stomach pains, a sore throat – by night time it has progressed to an all encompassing illness with flu-like symptoms.

If I haven’t said this before, I’ll say it again: It’s tough in this country to accurately diagnosis illnesses.

What I mean by that is best seen in this example: if you walk around Zambezia and ask someone who is sick what they have, they’ll probably say “Malaria”. That statement can mean many things, but most likely doesn’t imply they actually did the clinical test that confirms their malaria diagnosis. Coincidentally, Malaria can produce many of the same symptoms that the common cold or flu would. However, the medical treatment for malaria, being caused by a parasitic infection, is significantly different than that for the persistent cold or flu, which are both caused by viruses. Thus a correct diagnosis is pivotal for a relatively quick, successful recovery. What makes the diagnosis problematic though is that malaria tests can be hard to come by and a lot of times the tests don’t give conclusive results. Despite all the attention surrounding HIV/AIDS, Malaria is ever present and still the number 1 annual killer in Mozambique - a fact I’m very cognoscente of now.

Aided by an entourage of multi-colored pills, I manage to finish the training in Mopeia and retreat back to Quelimane for the weekend to lick my wounds and rest up before eventually making my way back to Nauela.

The following are some views from my agriculture teaching moments in Mopeia:

Me talking to talk to talk to talk to talk….

Me trying to get down and dirty with a hoe.

Me doing what I’m actually best at… supervising ;-)

A good view of the permagarden plot

Double digging it up…

The Mopeia training group after completing our permagarden…

Amanda and I smiling wide for camera

***

The trip home is going well. FGH has been kind enough to take me all the way back to Alto Molócuè in their car, but I’m on my own from there.

Next thing I know, I find myself somewhere between Alto Molócuè and Nauela squatting down in a field of cassava with my pants scrunched up around my ankles while something sharp and prickly is sticking me in the rear. I’m not sure what exactly is causing the sensation, but that’s the least of my worries at the moment. Staring through the tall grass at the idling truck 20 meters away, my oscillating health status is an accepted, mute point. All I am concerned about now is the fickle motorista possibly driving off, leaving me to fend for myself in the wild, African bush as the sun is dipping low in the sky and, worse yet, takes my backpack (and my computer) with him.

In the 30 minutes leading up to this impromptu chapa stop I had been mentally debating about whether or not to signal to the driver. But in the end, the force building up inside of me couldn’t be held captive any longer. The driver promptly complied to the request (probably having been in my situation before) and was patient up to this point, but now he is revving his engine, obviously in a hurry to get to Gurue before it’s completely dark…

No one likes driving at night here in Mozambique. It’s much too dangerous. After all, if the treacherous roads, sketchy vehicles, or ever-present thieves don’t get you, the evil spirits surely will.

Tuesday April 19th - Friday April 22nd, 2011

Back safe in Nauela finally, I’m totally spent from the journey.

Most of the next several days are passed hanging out on my veranda, teaching chess to the area school children. Even while just sitting around outside though I get tired and must almost hourly take refuge in my comfy bed. Turns out, whatever illness that has taken over my body is quite reluctant to relinquish it to its rightful owner. The raging battle over my body’s cells isn’t tipping in my favor at the moment and my body must be calling for reinforcements, saving all its energy for fending off the infection.

It’s in this semi-catatonic state that the visiting FGH workers from Quelimane and Molócuè find me on Thursday morning. They are here to meet with Muretchele, the local association partnered with FGH, and the União Baptista Church in Mihecane. Rather than taking pity on me though, they quickly instruct me to get cleaned up and accompany them on their day’s adventure through Nauela. I’m so out of it and exhausted I can’t protest too much, so instead I simply tuck my tail and obediently follow the orders.

***

The death and birth of an association

What happened next was terribly predictable and illustrates perfectly some of the many field problems with NGO work here in Zambezia. The FGH workers show up relatively unannounced (supposedly the AIC that lives in Molócuè left a card with a random girl last week to inform the association to meet with FGH sometime this morning – they frequently do this but then don’t actually show up themselves), become offended by the fact that so few community members have bothered to participate, and start the conversation openly discussing how little work ethic this group has.

It is quite the sight. Sitting across from one another on the benches outside the rural health post in Nauela couldn’t be two more distinct sets of individuals: one group whose hands are heavily-calloused and suffer from overworked, decrypted toenails, don simple tattered rags, but present haggard smiles, the other group, meanwhile, with their perfectly manicured features and fresh set of business attire, are all frowns.

Rendered all but completely helpless by the mounting pain, I witness this interaction up close, sitting as a passive intermediary alongside both groups. Angrily lecturing the few, nonresponsive association members, it doesn’t take long for the Western-minded NGO workers to lose their patience and want to be done with the entire situation. Suddenly and unanimously it has been decided, “This association must die!” Not in such a harsh manner, just dissolve really. The NGO workers had already dismissively left their seats before taking a step back and firmly instructing the association members to write up and sign their own dissolution letter to be presented by FGH at the district government’s office - a public recognition of the association’s failure aimed at separating any lingering ties between FGH and Muretchele.

In my opinion, should the association dissolve? Yes. But who is suffering and being punished? Not the right people. These are the few individuals who are persistent/naive enough to have stuck it out with the absentee NGO that FGH is. Meanwhile, the person who founded this group, sowing fictitious thoughts of grandeur and profit among the early members is long gone and being held completely unaccountable (as I recently discovered he transferred to Morrumbala and actually received quite a promotion of sorts – see earlier post).

Then, the FGH workers and I pile into their car, them feeling borderline jovial now that they have ridded themselves of some serious baggage, and leave behind a group of disenchanted locals who never even saw it coming. Seconds later we’re back on the road speeding toward Mihecane to start a new FGH partnership with the church there - a little messed up if you ask me.

There’s no doubt in my mind that eventually FGH will form some sort of partnership through a newly proposed association with the church here. The longstanding mission is already incredibly active in the community and is relatively independent in their actions - exactly what FGH is looking for because they’ll likely provide very minimal support but claim all the credit for the results. I really do hope this budding partnership will work out better than the last for both parties. I really do. I can’t wait for us to visit Mihecane and get going… turns out though, I’ll have to wait a little while longer because, first, the car must stop at the Nauela market to allow the NGO workers to buy some flashy bras that caught their attention. While they absent-mindedly peruse some of the other merchandise the grass stalls have to offer, I sit in the car reeling back and forth with a colossal headache, unsure now if it’s being caused by my illness or simply the irony of it all.

***

Random reflections:

Although so much positive is said in the NGO world about creating community associations that work together towards a common goal, I have now had the displeasure of witnessing the other side of the coin – the sudden abandonment of a group of individuals who couldn’t meet an NGO’s lofty expectations.

Founded by my former FGH counterpart Rocha, I’ve always believed that the association members in Nauela had long been misled into thinking that, after starting an association, FGH would give them “lots” of money (in Nauela lots of money could be less than $10). Having long seen the manner in which NGOs operate, the way they can throw around so such money, many people jumped on board without even knowing what the association’s purpose was. In their minds, when Rocha said key words such as the association will be “financed by FGH” and the members will be “trained” in various things. One thing came to mind: Money.

In the past, NGOs would do their trainings in cities and be required to give all the attendees per diem ($15-20 a day to help cover the cost of meals and incidentals). Nowadays, the trainings for community volunteers often happen on-location so people are fed well (a snack and lunch at least) but left to fend for themselves outside the training without any per diem to line their pockets. Thus, even when Muretchele completed a small, on-location training back in October about medicinal plants, the association members unhappily received no benefit other than the knowledge they were able to retain (something I was ironically very happy about at the time).

Oftentimes, FGH workers criticize community activists for only seeking out financial gains, but, in reality, Don’t you think the whole system is a little bit hypocritical? The NGO workers definitely are making a pretty penny and most are seeking to help the project’s beneficiaries in words only. At the end of the day if they could get paid without lifting a finger, I believe that most of them would. Furthermore, the local participants are dirt poor and living by the skin on their teeth. Don’t you think it’s a little ridiculous to expect them to try and volunteer their precious time towards some ambiguous cause that even FGH can’t tell you what it is?

Even with microfinance projects where the objective is to make money and be “sustainable” (all the rage in the NGO world nowadays), beyond addressing the limited math and business skills that most possess, there exists a far bigger problem: - a great cultural conflict of sorts. For better or worse, people in Africa share… Everything! If you are ever in need, you go to your neighbor and ask, don’t worry, it’s not considered rude. In fact, oftentimes even dirt-poor individuals give something when asked because they know that some day in the future they might be down on their luck and have to turn around and beg their neighbor for help. There’s very little incentive to strive and achieve more for those capable because at the end of the day, even if you succeed, friends and family will likely notice your good fortune and hit you up for all you’re worth. And you, not wanting to burn bridges, can’t turn them away unless you are willing to risk social isolation.

Saturday April 23rd – Tuesday April 26th, 2011

April 25th is quickly approaching and what does that mean? I, along with several other PCVs, need to hightail it to Morrumbala for Amanda’s Disney-themed birthday party. Yay!

Despite my lingering illness that is keeping me coughing and feeling fatigued, I successfully make the arduous, day-long journey down from Nauela without incident. My health regresses a little bit because of the stress but, with the help of some strong med dosages, I am able to suck it up and enjoy the festivities :-)

Yohko and Amanda getting ready for the evening’s festivities.

Feijaoda lunch… yum!

Amanda and I acting our parts: Abu from Aladdin and one of the Siamese cats from Lady and the Tramp :-)

The full group in their Disney costumes

Amanda and Mica blowing out their candles

***

After the birthday brigade came and went, Amanda and I went out into her neighborhood to take some pictures with her friends and colleagues….

Friday April 29th – Monday May 2nd, 2011

Thanks to the mandatory flu shot PCVs are required to get annually, Amanda and I get to meet up with Dr. Edson (the Peace Corps Medical Officer for Northern Mozambique normally located in Nampula) this weekend in Quelimane to talk about some of our various nagging health problems. Upon completing the consultation Dr. Edson worries aloud about my prolonged illness possibly being a result of malaria. When the field test comes up negative however, the only thing left to prescribe is a high dose of general antibiotics to see if that’ll do that trick (After 10 days of medication, vitamins, eating well, and some R&R I feel normal again for the first time in nearly a month!).

Random shots from the weekend in Quelimane:

Panoramic from a shot from the top of Hotel Chuabo in Quelimane

Amanda and Jordan enjoying the Chuabo view

Amanda and Jordan after making a wonderful French bread pizza from (almost) scratch!

***

All this medical talk reminds me… during my last trip to Quelimane I had the pleasure of visiting and saying goodbye to the Hiltons (they’ve been in Quelimane for over 17 years working with World Vision but are finally moving to Australia to be closer to family). As luck would have it, the Fosters from Gurue were staying with them on their way to Maputo for a biblical seminar and we all got to chatting about our experiences in Mozambique and abroad. Stuart Foster eventually mentioned his brother’s work as the resident surgeon at a mission hospital in Angola and the night ends with them promising to introduce me to their various international medical contacts via email, including Stuart’s brother.

Since that fateful meeting, the Foster’s have sent various emails to people from all over the globe and I’m looking into the possibility of visiting Angola next summer (as a Portuguese translator for expat doctors all the while doing some medical shadowing)… we’ll see how the logistics (timing and money mainly) go, but regardless… the possibility is exciting!

***

On my way back up to Nauela on Monday I discover two bits of news:

1) A Moz 15 health PCV who was placed in Quelimane in December 2010 has decided to go home. Why? According to him, it’s because the organization he has been paired with was not giving him any work to do – seems to be the general story for Moz PCVs in the health sector.

2) Osama Bin Laden’s death – The headline spurs surprisingly a lot of talk amongst Mozambicans even in a rural place like Nauela (people get the news via community radio stations). The narrative that seems to be widely circulating here is the same one the Western media is favoring (Bin Laden was a terrorist, not a freedom fighter). Interestingly enough, with this bit of information everyone I’ve talked to about it here in Nauela has said that, since Bin Laden is responsible for the deaths of other people, he deserved to die too… in their opinion it’s as simple as that… Or is it?

Tuesday May 3rd - Wednesday May 12th, 2011

Largely because of this waning (finally!) illness, it appears that a lot of my last memories at site will be of teaching and playing chess with the area secondary school students. Most of my other work involves hours of biking and, even though I have moments of strength, in general I always feel pretty weak. Sadly though, even as I’m teaching the basics of the game to eager participants I am having serious doubts that anyone will continue to play after I’m gone. My most avid students, for example, admit to not having practiced at all while I was away – to their credit, they have no board, no pieces, and few people to play with… but it’s still a glimpse into the near future, post-Michael.

I have hopes that chess can gain a presence in the area before I leave, but I just don’t know if it can. Right now, many people are stuck on playing checkers (they actually call it damas, which has slightly different rules), but (and no offense to those of you out there who are avid checkers players) I feel like that game is pretty straight forward and doesn’t involve too much advanced strategy or outside the box thinking – something young aspiring students could really benefit from being exposed to at an early age. Having all these grandiose ideas about how chess can help develop kids’ ability to strategize and plan for the future is good and all, but at the same time I realize that, for most, just learning how to move the pieces is an accomplishment.

Salimo, one of my youngest, but most promising students

***

Random happy views from a Nauela sunflower field:

***

As I lounge around Nauela playing games with kids, several individuals with some large machinery are running around every which way making a huge impact on the lives of local residents. Yep, that’s right! The next, long-awaited Afrodrill campaign has arrived. You might have never heard of Afrodrill before, but they are a company based out of Mocuba that is being sub-contracted by various organizations to go around Zambezia drilling boreholes for water pumps.

This year, the operation is focusing on reaching out to more distant communities in the administrative post that they weren’t able to get to in previous years. Mugema, Guilherme, Vehiua, Cololo, and Mohiua (household names for you all back at home, right?) are all slated to be dug this year, with only one, near Nauela’s market, being located in somewhat close proximity to me.

With all the hubbub, I just had to go bike over to see the magic happen in person… Once there, the workers informed me that the pump is actually made it in three phases: first drill the hold, then set a surrounding cement slab, finally install the pump mechanism. At this moment these workers are here only to complete the first stage. Others will be close behind them to finish up the job.

As you can see from large crowd gathered around in the pictures below, the digging process was definitely the day’s biggest event in Nauela:

Arlindo Alpin Paulino, 25 –

Carvão maker

Not even to the morning’s final destination, yet I’m exhilaratingly exhausted. My tattered jeans are weighed down by the amassing dew being collected from passing corn leaves while my exposed forearms are shredded by the overgrown sawgrass. To me, our path seems uncertain: a sharp left here, a random cut there. But, no worries, my guide is an expert and has made this journey many times before. It’s only 6am and I’ve already biked 30 minutes up and down narrow mountain trails, cut through thriving machambas, and rumbled along on overgrown “paths” eagerly following the footsteps of Arlindo, one of the many area carvão makers.

Now I’m soaking wet, pants rolled up past my knees, sandals in one hand, a 5-liter jug of water in the other, as I slowly ford the murky Mucipine River. It’s a precarious balancing act for me as I feel my way across the muddy riverbed. Sizing up my companion’s situation though, I definitely have it easier. Sure enough, next to me ready to show me up, there’s Arlindo with his 3 year-old baby girl capulana-ed across his back, shoes in hand while also lugging a sack full of axes and food for the morning’s activities.

We cross the river safely. “Now we’re really in the middle of nowhere…” I think. No houses to be seen in any direction, only a rarely used path urging us ahead. Once we put our sandals back on, there’s only few more minutes of hiking, before, all of a sudden, Arlindo stops and points at some trees, indicating that this is where we’re going to be working today. Looking at the plot of sparse trees, I immediately have some grand idea that we’ll be cutting down acres today, but that’s before I see how hard the hand labor is… with dull axes nonetheless!

Arlindo is an oddball of sorts in the area. Unlike most local residents, he was actually born a good distance southwest of Nauela in the district of Namarroi back in 1986. With the early death of his father, however, he left home at the age of 6 and moved to Gurue to live with his uncle, a successful honey farmer. Eventually, Arlindo migrated with other family members over to the Alto Molócuè area and soon after, having completed only 7th grade, had to stop going to school because he could no longer finance his studies without the help of a father/uncle. Lacking anyone insisting otherwise, Arlindo reasoned to drop out and start planting rice fields in the fertile valleys just outside of the city. Although the rice grew plentifully and provided an immediate income, Arlindo’s dreams of one day becoming a primary school teacher or medical technician were thrown to the wayside and left behind before really even having a chance to take shape.

Looking to settle down, Arlindo met and married his wife, Esmerelda - a Nauela native, two years later in Alto Molócuè. Soon thereafter, however, she became very ill with a mysterious disease causing pains in her stomach and back and leaving her extremities inflamed. With minimal access to Western medical treatment, her condition persisted for 3 years as the newly married couple sought out curandeiros, or traditional healers. After finally being attended to at the hospital in Molócuè though, she eventually recovered. Almost at the same time Arlindo became “sick”, but with a so-called traditional illness. According to him, he had been doing relatively well financially (farming success allowed him to open a make-shift movie theater – AKA a closed hut with a tv, dvd player, and speakers )and thus people were allegedly going around wishing bad things upon him which in turn made him act “muluku”, or crazy. To remedy the problem, he regularly saw a curandeiro over a 2 month period… leaving with a “healed-spirit” but destroyed finances (traditional healers can be rather pricey!).

***

Rather than deterring people from seeing traditional healers, the pricey-ness of these treatments actually make people feel as if they are investing in their health when going and spending all that money (compared to the national health care system which is largely free). In fact, just recently their baby boy was sick and the first place they took him was the traditional healer. Only after a weekend of the illness persisting did they take him to the hospital. It’s not a matter of convenience, either. The traditional healer they use is actually located past the hospital. The parent’s opinion is that the child has malaria. But what is “malaria” really? It’s confusing because most people say “malaria” here if it’s what we’d describe as flu-like symptoms. Thus there’s a common misunderstanding that the hospital should give anti-malaria meds to a patient with any kind of fever.

Observing Arlindo’s daily surroundings - fire, wood, and ash – all have been incorporated into his preferred traditional medical treatment of common illnesses. It’s no wonder he’s so hesitant to go to a place that is going to tell him to take a white pill that seems so foreign and different to everything good that he experiences on his healthy days. While out in the forest chopping wood with me, Arlindo seeks out a special kind of tree whose root’s bitter juices are mixed with water and ash to avoid manchas, or marks, on one’s skin. He prepares a batch for me, I try it, and he beams as my entire face puckers at the extreme sharp taste – “That’s how you know it works” he says and resumes his chopping.

***

After their illnesses, Arlindo and Esmerelda found themselves poor and without hardly any food to sell or eat. Desperate, Arlindo sought out and learned a new profession from some of the older community members in Molócuè: how to make carvão – partially burnt wood that is preferred for cooking due to its quick-catching nature and the lack of smoke it produces while burning. Although the work is physically taxing and requires long days, Arlindo discovered that the stream of money that comes in is good and relatively secure.

When they elected to move from Alto Molócuè to Nauela 2 years ago to be closer to his wife’s family, they entered into a similar situation as before – moving during the middle of a growing season and being granted a plot without forgiving, fertile land. Without hesitation, Arlindo restarted his carvão business to be his family’s primary source of income. Although he once had had lofty dreams to continue studying and start a real profession, he now just hopes to earn enough money to be able to get some better land (in Molócuè or Nauela) and continue to support his family as a farmer/carvão maker.

Arlindo and Esmerelda have been blessed with two kids, a girl that’s 3 years old and a boy that’s 1 ½ years old. Unfortunately though, he and his wife are both orphans of one parent (Arlindo lost his dad and Esmarelda lost her mom when they were still kids). This is especially devastating because the grandmother on the mother’s side is supposed to help out a lot with the grandchild rearing in Nauela’s matrilineal culture. Arlindo’s mom is still alive and well in Namarroi but the area’s tradition is to stay near to where the wife’s family is. So here they are, doing everything they can to raise their two kids largely unaided… which is quite a feat anywhere, but especially so in rural Mozambique.

Pointing at a large clearing to our left, Arlindo proudly informs me that in only 2 months work he was able to make 6000 meticais (~ 30 mets a day = $1 dollar a day) by cutting down, burning, and selling off the produced carvão. It’s crazy to think about that math – I mean, I remember always hearing those NGO commercials saying “For just a dollar a day you can help feed and clothe a child in Africa…” Well that’s sort of true… except that’s for an ENTIRE family! To be fair though, Arlindo’s cash earnings versus expenses don’t reflect the fact that his family largely eats and drinks without paying (they get water from a neighborhood well and eat what they grow in their field). In reality, (although some is spent on things like cooking oil, salt, sugar, and alcohol) most of the cash-money actually is stored away as savings for non-daily expenses (like buying a new bicycle, a tin roof for the house, traveling, buying new property, etc).

After just one day of working alongside Arlindo, I’ve started associating his income with the amount of work that is required to get it. When reflecting on a recent purchase it’s like “Wow! Are those crackers I bought in Quelimane really worth 2 days of hard labor?” Definitely not! But then again, life is very different for me 1) my work is not “hard labor” and 2) I’m getting a salary (~7000/month or ~$6 dollars a day) so no matter what I do, save get fired, I’ll get that money. Very different mentality!

In order to make good carvão, you have to cut down certain types of tree. If you use the wrong type (i.e. - mango trees), they simply won’t burn as well. After cutting down the trees, you need to further chop them up into meter-long logs, to facilitate later stacking, and then let dry for 2-3 days. Once you’ve waited for the logs to dry a little, you pile them up, cover them with cut grass and then sand, all the while leaving a small hole to place a fire inside. Once the fire is lit and going strong, cover the hole, and let the logs char for 3 days or so, checking periodically to make sure that too much smoke isn’t coming out (if a lot of smoke is coming out, then that means the wood has not stopped in the carvão phase but is instead completely burning to ash). As the logs and grass are charring, the sand will fall down and put out the fire before completely burning the log. As stated before, these partially burnt logs (carvão) are nice and convenient because they are quick to light and don’t give off a lot of smoke when used.

Environmental conservationists say this practice contributes to the area’s deforestation, but in Arlindo’s case, he is SLOWLY cutting down trees (with a dull axe!) that will one day serve as the crop field of a neighbor (who has given him permission). It works out for both parties because Arlindo is able to make carvão to sell and the farmer gains a cleared portion of his field. Personally (granted I might be biased now after having worked alongside Arlingo), I think the bigger worry for environmentalists should be the foreign companies, mainly Chinese in Zambezia, who come into Mozambique and remove large quantities of unprocessed, fully-grown trees in an instant with chainsaws.

Granted, the burning process does take a lot out of the soil where the fire pit is located...

Other farmers don’t take advantage of making carvão while clearing their fields for two reasons 1) it is highly labor intensive and not worth the effort when you have lots of land with good soil – for those lucky ones it’s better to simply put your time and energy into getting the most out of the available land rather than investing it in clearing less desirable land and 2) many area people don’t know how to make carvão and don’t use much of it in their house. Indeed, even relatively wealthy families like Wiado’s only use freshly cut logs to cook food and make bread. The main consumers of carvão are actually people in bigger cities who are driving through the area or Nauela’s high-rollers (i.e. – government employees, teachers, hospital technicians, and me).

Getting ready to held out to work, child in tow...

1 tree up, 1 tree comin' down...

The hard collisions did a number on my joints, but Arlindo is unfazed.

A real hard working man...

Measuring out the cuts with his estimating stick...

The tree trunk should be cut into ~1 meter long pieces to facilitate later stacking...

Collecting slightly burnt logs to place on bottom of the pile and quickly catch fire...

Assembling the burn pile...

Nothing is easy about this job, even gotta work to haul the grass to cover the wood...

Placing freshly cut grass on top of the logs...

Covering the grass with soil...

Starting the fire...

Once it is completely covered, you gotta make sure too much smoke isn't coming out of the burning pile...

Carvão - The finished product all bundled up and ready to sell

Me looking like a pretty sexy, wanna-be carvão maker!

Ali “Zambia” Momadi, 54 – Curandeiro/ Bike Repairman/Guard

Entering what is left of a colonial-era store in Nauela’s marketplace and noting the scratched and faded light-green paint that gives way to patches of exposed brick behind, you catch a glimpse of the past. Indeed, when closing your eyes, you can easily imagine what it must have been like just a short 40 years ago: clean and fully-stocked stores with open kitchens daily serving up hot plates, a well-maintained road with private cars frequenting the nearby Catholic mission or the tea barons in Gurue, and sanitary public bathrooms with running water conveniently located in the business-owners’ lush courtyards to serve passing travelers. To sweeten the deal, commodities were plentiful in the fertile agricultural area during most of the year and luxury items regularly flowed in from Nampula via Nacala, Ilha de Moçambique, and Angoche. Life must have been good…

All these comforts and more would have been available in Nauela 40 years ago to foreigners like you and me… just not to the native residents themselves. And thus, rightfully so, it didn’t last.

Flash back to the present and you start to notice new marks amongst the old: boarded up rooms and a new tin roof for an improvised food storage area, amassed soot where indoor fires are regularly made, and torn clothes strung out across the patio to dry - an impoverished existence in the midst of historical luxury.

This is the reality of Ali, the hired guard of a ruined store in Nauela, who moonlights as a bike repairman (the original reason I’ve come to see him) and, as I’m soon about to find out, a curandeiro, or traditional healer.

With a pointed stick and spinning animal horn in hand, Ali asks me to sit down and chat before starting to work on my bike. Smiling and laughing the whole time, with his browed forehead pushing up on the Kufi cap sitting on top of his head he tells me his story:

Some of the old stores in Nauela's marketplace

Born in the small port town of Angoche, Nampula in 1957 to the son of a prominent Mosque leader, Ali was 1 of 15 (!) children (5 brothers and 10 sisters). Due to the small nature of the town, the young Ali played and grew close with all the area kids his age, including the child of the local Portuguese administrator at the time. When the administrator decided to move to Zambia in 1961, he asked Ali’s father if he could take the 4-year-old Ali with them to keep his child company, to which Ali’s father conditionally agreed. Thus it was decided for him: almost all of Ali’s memorable childhood would be spent in a foreign land with a family that was not his own.

The years passed by quickly though, with Ali playing with and taking care of the Portuguese family’s children. He made the most of this time, learning various skilled tasks around the farm that would later prove quite useful. In 1973, at the age of 16, Ali’s father finally called for him to return home and the Portuguese man obliged, personally escorting him all the way back to Angoche. Only 4 months after having been reunited with his family though, Ali had had enough and took off for Nampula City.

One day soon after, Ali found himself wandering the streets of Nampula when a local shop owner sized him up and offered him a job driving a tractor on his farm in Mohiua, Nauela. Shrugging his shoulders and figuring “Why not?” he accepted the offer. In short, work and life at the time in Mohiua was calm. Even during the War for Independence that soon followed, things there stayed relatively peaceful and unchanged. As a matter of fact, the local population seemed completely oblivious to what revolutionary actions were underway in other parts of the country. Even after the War for Independence was over and the Portuguese owner had fled the country, Ali continued to work as a tractor driver for 10 more years as the owner managed the business from abroad.

Thinking back on these years as a tractor driver, vivid details about the work or the day’s activities don’t come to mind easily. In Ali’s memory, it all just seems to blur together. Something that does stand out, however, was a particular visit by the Portuguese business owner to check on the farm’s operations. Aware they were being watched, everyone was out to do their best that day. Barking out orders, the owner refused to communicate directly with the field workers like Ali. Instead, he issued commands through the appointed field captain. This went on for a while, the owner shouting and staring down the laborers while the workers stole interested glances back at him. As Ali took a moment to admire the odd foreigner, he was astonished by the fact that the Portuguese man had so much arm hair (most Mozambicans have almost none) that he couldn’t read his watch without brushing it aside… “Sort of like yours!” Ali ends as he reaches out and admires my bushy forearms… Great :-/

During these years in Mohiua, Ali met and later married a young woman named Maria who would, over the years, bear him 6 children. After saving up some money, Ali proudly brought her to Angoche in 1983 to meet his relatives and see if she’d be interested in moving there. She loved it! Coming back to Mohiua to inform her family that they intended to move to Angoche, the civil war broke out, however, and any plans they had of moving would have to wait.

That day never came.

The civil war was particularly unkind to Ali and his family. As it was for everyone else in the area, food, water, clothes, and other necessities were hard to come by. Then, one fateful day, Maria went out to gather firewood as she always did, but after several hours of waiting for her return Ali discovered that she had been attacked and killed by roaming RENAMO soldiers.

Desperately needing someone to help take care of his 6 children, Ali quickly remarried. But even the best wife he could find at the time was a poor substitute - a known local drunkard. His second marriage didn’t last long though, not even through the civil war, because after having drunk excessively one night she fell ill and passed away within a few days.

As fate would have it, Ali’s family would have to make it through these tough times with only one parent.

During these intense years near the end of the war, Ali and his children were too scared to plant crops and, instead, relied entirely on his income from being a curandeiro to the area population. Although his practice didn’t pick up until much later in life, he reportedly received his “powers” at a very young age from his grandfather who had also been a curandeiro. According to Ali, after his grandfather’s death when Ali was 2-3 years old, he became very ill. During this time, Ali experienced dreams where his grandfather would appear and explain the different medicinal properties of various roots. Ali defends his late start as a curandeiro stating that it would have been impossible to start any earlier since he had spent most of his childhood living with that Portuguese family in their house that was painted all white and thus warded off the evil spirits that give him power.

“The devil isn’t accustomed to entering a house painted white” Ali calmly explained.

Expanding this idea about keeping unwanted things out of one’s house, Ali actually tried to protect his family during the war by making a circle around his house with a special kind of root so no one would bother them. And apparently something worked because RENAMO soldiers reportedly passed on all sides of his house but never once actually approached them.

Adjusting to life after the war was rough. All of Ali’s skills surrounding the use of machinery meant next to nothing with no working farm equipment to be found in the area. Instead, Ali resorted to becoming a subsistence farmer and tried his best to provide for his family while still working on the side as a curandeiro. He eventually remarried again and started regularly attending the Friday worship at a reconstructed mosque in Malema, Nampula province (a 2 hour bike ride each way).

To facilitate his Friday worship time, Ali left his wife and children (now 8 in total) behind farming in Mohiua and moved to Nauela in 2003 when its mosque was completed. Being so close to the new mosque, he’s actually able to go there every day to pray and thus has built up quite a relationship with fellow area Muslims. Three years ago, upon the strong recommendation of Nunes, the mosque leader and only current store owner in Nauela, Ali secured a job as a live-in guard for a recently bought colonial-era store. The new owner currently lives in Moloque, but bought the property and just hasn’t had the time or money to fully rehabilitate it yet. Until the time of rehabilitation comes, Ali’s relatively task-free job is secure and allows him to continue being a bike repairman and curandeiro.

Boldly, I ask Ali what people at the mosque think about him being a practicing curandeiro, especially since he keeps referring to it as being the power of “diablo”, the devil. He insists though that everyone at the mosque knows and, although they’ve never come to be seen by him, they’ve never rebuked him for it.

Focusing in on the actual work, Ali informs me that each curandeiro has his/her own specialty – i.e. predicting the future, casting spells, telling you about the unknown, producing natural medicines, etc. Ali allegedly knows how to treat various illnesses with medicinal plants and can use a spinning animal horn filled with money and special roots to respond to questions you need answers to.

Ali’s going rate depends on what exactly you want him to do. The standard is 10 mets for a yes/no question (i.e. – Is my soon-to-be-born child a male?). Supposedly the horn will rotate clockwise if the statement is false and counterclockwise if the statement is true. If you want to know the answers to open-ended questions, however, the price is double (i.e.- Who robbed my house?). In this case, the spinning horn supposedly talks to Ali and he communicates its message to the client (this practice seems pretty dangerous to me!). On the other hand, the medications he dolls out can range from 20 to 50 mets ($1-2 USD) depending on the severity of the illness. A 20 met medicine can supposedly cure things like fevers and headaches while a 50 met medicine can allegedly cure things like a lack of appetite, aching body, hernia, etc.

Although a lot of curandeiros or traditional healers are promoting unstudied or counterintuitive methods of healing, people continue to seek out their treatment today. Historically, there hasn’t been much access to Western medicine in the area and so generations of people have gone to these self-proclaimed healers as their only hope for improvement. Even today at small hospitals and health posts in rural Mozambique, health technicians frequently run out of medicine and can only limitedly help patients (just as it’s tough for a patient in the States to accept that a doctor can’t do much to remedy his/her common cold, it’s tough, perhaps even more so, here since there’s very little understanding of the Germ Theory). This further encourages people to continue to seek out traditional healers who are hard-pressed to identify any illnesses their elixirs supposedly can’t cure.

Pastor Vicente Alberto, 59

Waiting on a long, wooden bench set out on the church office’s front veranda, I hear the familiar echo of Pastor Vicente heavily striking the worn keys of his antiquated typewriter. The methodical sound, combined with the pleasant smell of eucalyptus leaves wafting in the air, lulls me into a trance. I’m still profusely sweating from the hour-long bike ride to Mihecane, but that doesn’t keep me from enjoying the moment. Staring out at the local primary school students happily playing soccer on their haphazard, dirt field while occasionally greeting passing farmers who are hauling this year’s crops from the surrounding mountains to sell in Nauela, I can’t help but feel that these are the moments that I came to the Peace Corps for.

Eventually, I’m pulled away from my reflections by a soft, yet commanding voice calling me into the dim room where Pastor Vicente, the head of the local União Baptista church, is. After letting my eyes adjust to the contrast in lighting, I now see him sitting comfortably, in typical fashion, with hot tea set out in front of him and a smile stretching across his face. Although the room is filled with many individuals, including other area pastors, Vicente has an air about him that immediately draws all of one’s attention.

Looking around the room at his humbled colleagues, it’s not hard to see that this operation, for better or for worse and like so many others in Mozambique, is a one man show.

It wasn’t always like this though. Vicente has only been the head local pastor for a little over a decade. Before that, Mihecane had a longstanding missionary presence dating all the way back to the turn of the 20th century, but with the advent of Mozambique’s struggle for independence, civil war, and rehabilitation efforts since, the previous hierarchy has been tossed out the window and those who immediately filled the power vacuum are largely still hanging on to that position today.

Sitting down over freshly made tea, the hot water fogging my glasses, I try to delve into the details surrounding the church’s carpentry project designed to help local OVCs. But today, Vicente is not in a work mood. Growing up in an incredibly tumultuous time in his country’s history, he has already done his fair share of development projects and right now he just wants to enjoy his tea and chat…

The local União Baptista church headquarters in Mihecane with it's eucalyptus trees swaying to the side

Born in 1951 to a polygamous father, Vicente Alberto grew up living out of his mother’s house on the banks of the Malapa River working as a farmer. Poor and black in a wealthy Portuguese-dominated society, Vicente’s only opportunity to receive a formal education in his early years came from the nearby protestant mission’s Sunday school which he attended regularly. Thus, at a very early age, the bond between future pastor and church was forged strong.

In order to better understand Pastor Vicente’s place in history with the area church, one must first step back in time to the beginnings of the União Baptista Church in Mihecane, Nauela. All the way back in 1913, Scottish missionaries initially founded the protestant mission in Mihecane dedicated to evangelizing to all of northern Mozambique (now the provinces of Zambezia, Nampula, Niassa, and Cabo Delgado… a HUGE region with literally millions of people in it). Over the next several decades the name of the mission changed several times and eventually settled on African Evangelical Fellowship. In addition to the church, the mission opened a school that went from 1st to 3rd grade, had a Sunday school bible study, and an orphanage. During these early years, many missionaries from Great Britain and Malawi came and went. The school grew and had peculiarities such as a piano, bells, and other musical instruments. During the First World War, the mission was actually attacked by some roaming Germans, killing one of the missionaries, but the mission’s presence in the area continued on through all obstacles and thrived.

It wasn’t until 1959, when Vicente was 8 years old, that the protestant mission in Mihecane was forced close by the Portuguese government because of a series of unfortunate events:

It all started when a new foreign evangelist named Cornelio arrived from Great Britain and started visiting the surrounding villages claiming God had given him supernatural powers. He started associating with many of the area curandeiros, speaking in tongues while praying, and even tried his hand at miraculous healing. Eventually, Cornelio wanted to prove his abilities and reasoned to throw a baby into a fire claiming he’d be able to save the child through the power of God. When he failed to resuscitate the child, however, he and the mission got in a lot of trouble with the local government.

Around this same time, a Mozambican named Ernesto who was working as a tax collector in Alto Molócuè robbed a large sum of money from the Portuguese government and, while fleeing the country, tried to hide with a friend in Mihecane. His friend didn’t feel comfortable taking him in to his house though and, instead, presented him to the head pastor of the mission at the time, Henry Gordon Legg, to turn him into the local authorities. Legg refused, knowing that if they took the man to authorities the fugitive would be killed and the man’s blood would be on his hands. Soon afterwards, the robber fled safely to Malawi and the friend immediately informed the area government about what had transpired with the pastor.

As one can imagine, the Portuguese government, already upset by the recent burning, was infuriated with Legg for not turning the robber in and consequently decided to close the mission (including the church, school, and orphanage… everything). Going a step farther, they also prohibited the local congregation from using the buildings as a punishment. Legg was eventually sent back to England, but, before he departed, he left the entire mission in the hands of a Mozambican named Martino Campos. Under the direction of Campos, the church’s headquarters migrated from Mihecane to the neighboring village of Eleve.

From 1959 to 1961, Vicente stayed at home because there wasn’t another school within walking distance for the young boy. However, in 1962, being a little older and having grown substantially, Vicente began making the daily trek to attend school at Nauela’s Catholic mission. During this time, in addition to going to school, he routinely helped out around the house of Pastor Campos; And while he might not have realized it at the time, seeds were then being sewn into his mind guiding him towards his future profession.

Although it took a while, on July 11th, 1968, at the age of 17, Vicente finally finished 4th grade - which was the highest grade a non-assimilated Mozambican was permitted to complete under Portuguese rule.

It’s important to note that during colonial times a Mozambican man could actually buy an assimilation card, a paper ID, stating that he considered his nationality to be Portuguese rather than Mozambican (this caused quite the controversy when the FRELIMO army later came through to push out the Portuguese during their War for Independence). The card cost 120 escudos, a lot of money at the time for a poor, rural Mozambican, but offered several advantages to its holder. An assimilated Mozambican, for example, was well known in the community and could attend all of the local Portuguese parties as well as go to school with all the Portuguese students. Once done with 4th grade, an assimilated Mozambican could even continue studying in Alto Molócuè or Nampula if he had enough money - Vicente’s family didn’t. Instead, Vicente bought a card with his hard earned money to take advantage of one thing: the parties!

One Portuguese party that still stands out in Vicente’s mind was a celebration surrounding the birthday of the Chefe do Posto during Vicente’s teen years. In the weeks leading up the event, invitations were sent out to all the assimilated Mozambicans instructing them to arrive in the village center at a certain time and date. During these years, there were between 30-40 Portuguese in the area and all of them promptly showed up at the said time and date with their family’s large contribution to the potluck-style dinner: chicken, potatoes, corn, wine, champagne, etc – the party was on!

After an hour or so, the food was still being divvied out, but wine bottles were empty and several Portuguese men were already drunk. And that’s when things got ugly! Yelling across the room at one another, a white store owner finally crossed the line when accusing a white farmer of being so uncivilized that he regularly eats field mice (something poor, rural Mozambicans did). Next thing Vicente knew, an all out war had erupted in the dining area. Vicente and his friends froze and watched in amazement as the white men took slugs at one another. They quickly recovered, however, and hurried back home with their mouths full of new, juicy stories, but little food having actually made it to their bellies.

When Vicente completed 4th grade in 1968, it was obvious that his family wouldn’t have enough money to enable him to continue studying in Molócuè. So, instead, he started working as a “Hey! Boy…” (a do-whatever-he’s-told helper) for a man named Gaspar - one of the six Portuguese store owners in Nauela.

It was at about that time that the church headquarters led by Campos really started to take hold in Eleve. After a difficult, slow transition the church finally began constructing a new sanctuary in Eleve in 1969. After two years of hard labor, the church in Eleve was finally inaugurated on November 11th, 1971 and quickly began to thrive. As the headquarters for all of northern Mozambique’s protestant churches, Eleve benefitted greatly, receiving financial support from all its congregations spread throughout the four-province region. Thus they were able to quickly construct several more buildings in the church’s immediate vicinity, including a seminary with attached dormitories, a church office, a head pastor’s residence, a guest house, a primary school, and a small health post.

The church in Eleve and the remains of the seminary

Amidst all this construction, Henry Gordan Legg returned to Maputo and pushed for the joining of several protestant denominations to form Igreja União Baptista de Moçambique. Although many followed his lead, including Campos, several church leaders broke off at this point and separately founded their own churches (this division would later cause a huge struggle over land rights to the mission’s original property in Mihecane). Around the same time, the Portuguese government actually lifted the ban on the protestant mission’s use of Mihecane, but Martino Campos, having already started constructing so much in Eleve, reasoned to wait for things to settle down for a while before making the move.

From 1972-73 Vicente lived and worked in Eleve as teacher at the church-affiliated primary school. Outside his official teaching schedule, Vicente became an appointed church evangelist to try and reach out to the local children. For a brief moment, things in Eleve were going well and comfortable for all!

The brewing War for Independence in the North didn’t impact Nauela till 1973 when the assimilated Mozambicans, including Vicente, were forced to enlist into the Portuguese army. In an instant, the newly recruited soldiers were uprooted from their calm, rural lifestyles and sent off to be trained for war at the fort on Ilha de Moçambique.

After basic training, Vicente found himself stationed in the province of Manica as a heavy arms specialist shooting canons and mortars. During his down time, Vicente became a hack-electrician, wiring barracks and houses for the Portuguese army in Chimoio, a trade that would pay him much dividend during his life. Even while looking out at the enemy, it never occurred to Vicente that he was actually fighting against a force, FRELIMO, that would soon free and govern the country he grew up in. As the Portuguese forces finally retreated, however, FRELIMO stumbled upon Vicente with his Portuguese assimilation card on hand. Noting his Portuguese citizenship, the freedom fighters dared him to flee to Portugal with the rest of them. Vicente obviously couldn’t, so, instead, he trashed the card and pledged his allegiance to the new Mozambican government.

On September 7th, 1974 the fighting for Mozambique’s independence ended successfully having kicked out the Portuguese colonial government. By the start of the next year, Vicente had arrived back in Eleve and resumed his role as teacher and evangelist at the local primary school. Within weeks of moving back home, on January 17th, 1975, Vicente Alberto married the woman he had long since been committed to, Arlinda Enriques, and before the end of the year, on December 15th, 1975, their first child of 10 (!) was born.

On June 25th, 1975 Mozambique’s government signed the Lusaka Accords (??) with Portugal officially acknowledging its hard-fought independence. Although there had been a change of government, life in Nauela remained startlingly similar for several years to come. Even while most of the area’s white residents had fled, a stubborn handful remained. It wasn’t until 1977, when the communist government moved to nationalize everything: land, schools, religious institutions, hospitals, businesses, etc, that things were really turned upside down.

In a day’s time, Mozambican soldiers invaded Eleve, ransacking it far worse than the War for Independence ever did. It was a free-for-all with soldiers removing the town’s generator, maize mill, farming equipment, etc, and, going a step further, seizing the dormitories for the students, the school, the health post, all the improved housing, and all church buildings except the sanctuary, which the communist government mockingly allowed the church to keep.

In the face of this tragedy, many people, including Vicente and his growing family, dispersed from Eleve. Looking for stability and a future, they moved to the city of Gurue where Vicente found work as an electrician for the Mitilile tea farm. Even as the civil war began and raged outside the city limits, in the heavily protected oasis that was Gurue, Vicente flourished while working his way up the ranks over a 15 year span, eventually becoming the head electrician for the company’s five tea plants.

Not all people were so fortunate, however. Around 1985-86, the civil war between RENAMO and FRELIMO picked up in the Nauela area. RENAMO, heavily financed by regional and world capitalist powers (i.e. – the U.S. and South Africa) trying to rid the world of communism, led an attack aimed at destroying infrastructure and disrupting everyday life. Schools, hospitals, farms, and roads were obliterated while mines and troops were scattered throughout the country to paralyze the people.

Although their presence was felt before then, in 1986 RENAMO finally attacked the agriculture center of Nauela attempting to cripple one of the key food suppliers in the country’s northern region. The outnumbered FRELIMO forces fled the area, leaving behind many civilians, including Vicente’s parents, who were caught and forced to march with RENAMO to the rural post of Molumbo where they were left, scared and disoriented in the bush.

This was the beginning of a series of attacks and counterattacks in the Nauela area by RENAMO and FRELIMO. The losing side would typically run away from the battle in order to look for more supplies and troops (Renamo would normally go looking in Nampula, FRELIMO, on the other hand, Gurue). Then they’d come back and attack again. At one point, FRELIMO told area residents to come build makeshift houses around the base of Mount Nauela so they could better protect them. However, pretty soon after witnessing the back and forth nature of the battles, civilians in the area went into hiding out in the surrounding forest. People would do their best to avoid death – moving about carefully during the day, making clothes from tree bark, only cooking indoors at night – without doing too well for oneself (i.e. – if RENAMO caught you with salt you were assumed to be associating with FRELIMO and thus killed).

Not an uncommon occurrence at the time, one of Vicente’s sisters who had fled into the bush was doing her best to bear the cold one winter night, bundling up in that infamous, heavy, abrasive tree-bark cloth, when something tragic happened. Earlier in the evening, she had made a fire inside her mud hut, in order to not give away her location to RENAMO soldiers, and had fallen asleep huddling close by the fire to benefit from its warmth. She woke up in a state of panic hours later, her baby crying and an intense sensation of pain coming from her lower body: the tree-bark cloth was on fire! In fact, the dry material must have made for excellent kindling as it was already engulfed in flames. Heaving the cloth aside as quickly as possible, it had already severely burned a large section of her upper thigh and, to make matters worse, she knew she wouldn’t be able to seek medical attention on her own.

Lydia Duarte donning a replica of the tree bark clothes commonly used during the civil war. Lydia is about to be appointed as one of the local “regulos”, community leaders. A rare feat in rural Mozambique for a woman.

Luckily, she was able to send a compassionate neighbor to Gurue to find Vicente and beg him to help transport her on a stretcher to Gurue (~60kms) in order to be treated by a doctor. Due to Vicente’s demanding work schedule as a company electrician he wasn’t able to personally make the trip (although he desperately wanted to), but sent four family members who were able to safely get her to Gurue in 3 days time (1 day there and 2 back), walking mostly at night since they were afraid of being caught and murdered by RENAMO troops. When Vicente’s sister finally arrived in Gurue, she was attended to by 2 surgeons from Doctors Without Borders who were working there temporarily to help with the war relief effort. In the short time it had taken to seek medical attention, the wound had begun to rot and the doctors debated whether or not to amputate the leg. In the end, they thoroughly cleaned the wound and let it slowly heal. Vicente’s sister is still alive today, albeit she has a limp, thanks to the courageous rescue efforts and the aid of the foreign doctors.

The story above isn’t the only area’s heroic act in these years during Mozambique’s civil war however. No, in fact, there are many more. At the time, there were actually still two foreign businessmen left in Nauela (1 Portuguese and 1 from Goa). Hearing about them, RENAMO soldiers wanted their blood. Before they could get a hold of them, however, Pastor Campos drove them in the church’s Landrover to Gurue in order to escape. When interrogated about the foreigners’ whereabouts, locals informed RENAMO forces what Campos has done. Instead of killing him for his rebellious acts, the soldiers reasoned to punish Campos by burning the car and made him stand at attention the whole day, from 9am-3pm. He came away from the encounter with inflamed legs and an aching ego, but ultimately suffered more when they later demanded he, along with a group of area pastors, march from Nauela to RENAMO’s base near Morrumbala by foot – the one-way journey took 30 days back then!

During the return, the aging Campos couldn’t go on and was left behind on the trail. Luckily, a nephew got word of his poor circumstance and carried him on his bike the rest of the way back home to Eleve. Campos didn’t fair the worst of all though, yet another pastor actually died during the return and was hastily buried in an unmarked grave on the banks of the Lua River. Even after his return, Campos wasn’t free from persecution. That same year he was deported to the Gurue area and later Quelimane. Soon after his arrival in Quelimane, he became very ill and died there in 1987. Eventually, however, his body was transported back north and was properly buried in a place of honor in Molócuè.

Within the safe confines of Gurue, Vicente received word of his parent’s involuntary relocation to Molumbo. Thus, in 1990 accompanied by allied soldiers, Vicente journeyed through the active warzone to seek out his parents or word of their fate. After arriving and asking around, he was actually able to locate them and safely move them back to Gurue to be with him and his family. At about this same time, the new local head Pastor Elias Guimarãnes traveled from Gurue to Maputo for a nationwide church conference where he was instructed to return as soon as possible to the original mission plot in Mihecane, instead of staying in Eleve since their buildings there were now in ruins.

Almost as soon as the civil war peace agreements were signed, construction started back up in Mihecane in March, 1992 under the supervision of Pastor Elias Guimarãnes. Looking for another church man from the area that he could trust as an auxiliary, Guimarãnes offered the new position of church secretary to Vicente (he had continued his work as an evangelist in Gurue for the church during the war). With the Gurue tea factories now failing, having been hard-pressed throughout the war, Vicente thought it an opportune time to officially join up with the church and finally head back home with Guimarãnes.

Slowly, Vicente gained more and more responsibilities in the church and eventually went back to biblical school (he had also attended biblical school in Eleve from 1971-73) with the idea of one day becoming a pastor. Under the supervision of Mihecane’s first post-independence missionaries, an English couple named Steven and Joanne Whitley who arrived in 1995, Vicente attended classes twice a week and completed a correspondence course. After a year or so of study, Vicente officially became a pastor in 1996 and when Elias Guimarãnes announced that he would soon step down as head pastor due to his declining health, there was little doubt as to who would be his successor. Indeed, in 1998 Vicente Alberto was voted to be head pastor of the local União Baptista Church, Costa Custodio to be the pastor treasurer, and Samuel Selvestre to be the pastor secretary.

The current group of church leaders, Pastors Selvestre, Vicente, and Basilio (replaced Custodio) from left to right.

In addition to the Whitleys, there was suddenly an influx of post-war foreign aid in the area, including a Canadian couple, Dr. Mark Nelham and his wife Joanne, sent from Doctors Without Borders/Red Cross, Meli Wisbon (or Melanie Wishbone?), an American nurse who had previously been working in Zambia, and a shipping container full of donated clothes. Although Mark and his wife would usually only visit for brief periods (they had a house in Quelimane), the Whitleys and Melanie lived in Mihecane for several years. Melanie eventually left Mihecane as the health situation stabilized in their years following the war, but the Whitleys would have likely stayed many years longer if not for the fact that all the missionaries with the União Baptista church were kicked out of the country in 2001 by host-country-national church leaders.

The sudden expulsion of all the missionaries associated with the União Baptista church in Mozambique was pushed forward by João Vivente Ichaua, the national leader of the church at the time. In 2001, during a routine nationwide meeting in Alto Molócuè, the head leader vented to the mixed gathering of Mozambicans and foreign missionaries, claiming he had no way of making future plans for the church because he was being held completely unaware of the church’s finances. Inspired, he was roughly quoted as having said “Give us 10 years without any foreigners leading this church and see if we’re not better off.” You see, at that time, most, if not all, international financial support was funneled through the foreign missionaries before being presented to the church. If nothing else, this caused a bad perception because Mozambicans would see missionaries traveling around the country in their nice cars, building large houses for themselves, and then not giving money for every whim of the church.

The Whitleys' house in Mihecane.

The house in Mihecane where the nurse Melanie lived.

When the dust settled, all (about 30 in total) missionaries had been kicked out of the country by the church’s national direction so that Mozambicans could take control of the money and their church. Although this decision pleased the Maputo office, many grassroot level churches, including Mihecane, were both stunned and deeply disheartened by the move that ripped their loved and very dedicated companions away from them.

This sudden vacuum in leadership caused the local congregation to lean that much harder on Vicente. During his years as pastor he has had to handle conflicts between area churches over land - who owned what, fight adult illiteracy, mentor other potential pastors in biblical school, grow the church congregation, handle various development projects, not to mention care for and raise his family. He’s now been working with the church for 18 years, 13 of which as a pastor, and is getting excited about the idea of finally retiring. He’s tired and wants to rest. Who can blame him? He’s done an incredible job. The only real thing left for him to do is help transition the church over to the next leader. I’m sure he’ll be up for it.

Sunday March 13th, 2011

I take advantage of being in Quelimane for computer purposes to make a weekend trip over to Morrumbala for an early St. Patties Day celebration with Amanda, Mica (her site mate), and some other PCVs. Highlight: definitely preparing and chowing down on some all-green-sushi rolls. [BTW, a special shout out for Patrizia: Happy Birthday! :-)]

Amanda in front of our impromptu St. Patties Day sign sporting her ice cold, green water :-)

Yohko, Choi, Mica, and I taking a break from the sushi rolling to smile for the camera

Choi, Amanda, and Yohko stoked because the sushi is SOO good!

Amanda making her very own personal cucumber and avocado roll

The site mates, Mica and Amanda, goofing off :-)

Monday March 14th – Wednesday March 16th, 2011

Surprise! This week the remaining Peace Corps-FGH Volunteers – Josh, Melissa, Katie, and I – find ourselves uprooted, dropped off, and leading an impromptu, FGH-inspired Permaculture training in Maganja da Costa (the home of fellow PCV Josh) with Ovilela, the local PLWHA association… but, knock on wood, things are actually going shockingly well!

Josh and I are heading up the training, me being more of the information guy and him more of the community relations guy, and although things are a little fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pants… it’s going smoothly. The flow of the training is pretty seamless, and there’s a good mix between theory and practice. My Permaculture test runs in Nauela are definitely paying their dividends! I feel like I am really connecting with the audience… joking with them, asking questions, involving them. It’s great!

Some association members dancing to kick off the morning hands on sessions

Everyone all smiles after the singing and dancing

Me instructing the group on double digging techniques

Let's start the REAL work...

More double digging... BTW, the Mozambican participants are a lot more impressive when using a hoe than PCVs :-)

Some association members taking a rest as we tag team it up.

Us standing over our completed permaculture garden! YAY!

In the end though, is it really making a long-term impact? Will these people go home and start implementing at least some of these agriculture techniques? Far away in Nauela/America, I probably won’t ever know the answer and, since I don’t believe there is a monitoring and evaluation plan, I’m not sure if anyone will. I mean, it doesn’t seem to be anyone’s priority is to go check and see if the participants are actually putting the knowledge to work.

Honestly though, from people’s initial reaction and enthusiasm, there are some of the bigger principles that I really hammered home that I naively hope will stick… 1) not burning crop refuse, instead putting it back into the earth and 2) water control. The rest – planting pattern, plant spacing, double digging, composting, seedling transplanting – can go to the wayside without me feeling like the training was a failure.

Sunday March 20th, 2011

I just discovered the other day that with my new cell phone I can get internet at my site through mcel whenever I go to the spots that have cell phone service (Amanda had tried this in the past with her internet phone and it didn’t work for some reason…). Using this new revelation to the fullest, I have avidly followed the Gator’s run thus far in the NCAA men’s basketball tournament… Sweet Sixteen here we come baby! Go Gators!

Monday March 21st, 2011

All excited and energized because of last week’s successful training, I call up Gaspar, my FGH provincial supervisor, today to ask if we can start planning the week-long Permaculture training-of-trainers that we discussed at the end of our time in Maganja da Costa - 3 days learning the method and 2 days to practice teaching a local association. He’s not sure though (i.e. – probably not!) because planting season is almost over and many of the FGH ground workers who would be trained are going to be spending 15 days in Quelimane next month in a training on “community activism”.

SERIOUSLY!?! Sounds about 14 days too long! How typical… at least a lot of money will be spent and it’ll produce some high numbers though… GAH!

Regardless of what Gaspar ends up deciding, it makes me not want to have a Permaculture training with those guys anyways because A) the people would only be coming because they’re being told to by their boss and royally compensated for it B) the next latest and greatest training would surely be soon to follow and whatever plans I’ve made with the workers will quickly just be a distant memory (exactly like the December nutrition training is now!) and C) these “highly-trained” workers need to actually spend some time in the field at some point and I don’t want to keep them locked up in just another training for one more day.

***

End of Summer/Autumn Harvest: It’s the most wonderful tiiiiime of the year! (cue background music…)

1) There’s food: Chilling outside Wiado’s house as the sun sets behind the distant mountains, Sara and Olympio roll in on their bikes, fresh off a long day in the fields, with a large sack full of fresh corn and oranges. The image in my head still gives me goosebumps: everyone in the family, even the stoic Olympio, is happy, smiling and laughing, playing around, snatching from the tall mound of fresh oranges to snack on. There is lustful discussion of preparing the corn for breakfast tomorrow. The family is huddled around in a circle with full bellies… and hope!… because they all know that this is just the beginning. Indeed, there’s plenty more to come!

2) There’s money: I walk out of my house this morning to find my absentee next-door neighbor finally cleaning up his overgrown yard. Apparently, he’s about to restart the construction on his halfway constructed house now that his fields of feijão manteiga are ready to be harvested and sold. He currently lives far outside of town, but has been making slow progress on this house since my arrival in December ‘09. Last year he put a tin roof on the house. This year he’s going to level the floor, put in windows and doors, and maybe cement around the outside of the house to protect against harsh weather. According to the owner, if things in the fields go as planned, he’ll have enough money to finish up and move in this year.

Friday March 25th, 2011

Lately I’ve been working a lot on storytelling project that I’ll eventually be posting on the Working Hard in Mozambique page on my site. Soon to come: traditional healers, carvão makers, and me with an axe! Stay tuned for updates and make sure to check it out periodically because I don’t think it shows up on the email feed :-)

Saturday March 26th, 2011

Families: We all have ‘em. We all want ‘em. Now what are we going to do with ‘em?! (Anyone get the Jimmy Buffet reference? – play on quote from “Fruitcakes”)

Although family dynamics are quite different here in Mozambique than they are in a “typical” American home, there is one thing that is a staple around the world: family drama! And with the average nuclear family size here surpassing 10 people… things can get crazy and out of hand pretty often! Take, for example, the latest Nauela family fallout:

Arriving back from Amanda and I’s trip to the States in late February I discovered that the gang at Wiado house was one member less than what it used to be. At first I didn’t think anything of it, assuming they had just slept over at another family member’s house or at the lean-to near the family machamba, but after a week or so of having not seen them I blurted out the obvious question, Where is Angel?!

The mom sighed and looked down at her own bandaged arm and recalled the story…

Turns out, during my absence, Angel, the oldest daughter, secretly stole and gave away the dress of Sara, the younger daughter, to a close friend. When Sara discovered what had occurred, she immediately ran crying to their mom in appeal. The mom jumped into action, grabbing Angel’s arm and demanding she go retrieve the dress at once. But Angel, upset and in panic mode, yelled out and bit down hard on her mom’s arm (until she bled, mind you!).

When Wiado arrived home in the afternoon, he immediately got an earful from all accounts about what had transpired earlier in the day. After hearing the story out, he didn’t strike his daughter (as many other parents might have), but simply informed Angel than she now had do all of her mom’s chores (a mother’s list of daily tasks in Mozambique alone is practically endless!), in addition to her own, until her mom got better. Relieved to escape a worse physical punishment, she quickly accepted without thinking about the deal’s ramifications. The first few days were beyond exhausting and by the end of the first week Angel had already made up her mind: she was going to run away from home. The next day, she left home heading South carrying with her only the clothes on her back… and they hadn’t heard from her since.

It’s been over a month now.

***

That was the story we all knew up until today when Fernando Jamal and I biked out to Niharipa (Mozambicans would say that’s “La!” => 2-3 hour bike ride each way) to see some area youth soccer coaches who I’ve been working with through the Lurdes Mutola Foundation.

A harmless snake we came upon hanging out on the side of the road

Despite repeatedly asking directions, we got lost during the journey there and ended up in Mitxaiane - the place Amanda and I had visited with IBIS almost a year ago. On a good note, all the improvements there are pretty much the same as they were a year ago... except now they have this nifty sign :-)

After a final grueling uphill stretch (pushing my bike the whole way), I arrived in Niharipa drenched in sweat and promptly made myself comfortable sprawling out on a local family’s esteira, drinking dirty well-water, and snacking on apple-bananas (they are bananas… but taste like apples! How crazy is that?! Do we have these in the States? If so, why hadn’t I tried ‘em before!?!). The family sends their son to go seek out the area soccer coaches who are working in their machambas and I am content just chilling for awhile. Things were pretty calm and normal laying there on the esteira when all of a sudden a familiar voice calls out “Mi-kel! Mi-kel!”

Angel!

Beaming as if she’d never been so happy to see a familiar face in all her life, Angel ran up and settled down alongside me. We catch up for a bit, her shocking me with the news of her *recent marriage* and newly-acquired *husband* (turns out while Amanda, Yohko, and I were climbing Tatu the day before my birthday we were very likely looking out into the distance at Niharipa totally unaware of Angel’s-spur-of-the-moment wedding that was taking place), but then heads off to prepare some lunch for me when the coaches finally arrive.

Fernando Jamal and one of the coaches' moms with her family's raised granary in the back.

Our host insisting on making a special treat for the occasion

A heaping scope of milled corn for the xima preparation

Mixin' up some xima for our lunch

Some recently stored corn inside the granary

The disappearing act herself: Angel!

Partly my own fault due to the exhausting trip, our meeting is rather uneventful and anticlimactic. Sure we talked about some problems (the school apparently won’t let them play on their soccer field during the week because its proximity to the open-air classrooms is distracting to the students), made a game plan for the next few days/weeks and watched a little of their practice, but the real success of the day was definitely the adventure of just getting there and interacting with some new community members.

Salvador and Arsenio, the two area coaches laughing off some of their recent problems

Fernando Jamal looking over his record keeping

Salvador and Ansenio's soccer team

A local soccer stud showing off his ball handling skills

After meeting with the soccer coaches, I went back towards the local primary school and sat down for lunch with Angel and her new husband. He’s nice and all… but the whole time we’re sitting there I can’t help but think about how weird and different this feels. It hasn’t even been a month since she’s left and, although she didn’t say this, I can tell how much she misses her family. Longingly staring at a young neighborhood child approaching me to shake my hand, she sighs and explains how much the child reminds her of Salimo, her youngest brother - I definitely know the feeling of missing one’s family and not being able to be with them. I eventually leave, but before I go she instructs me to send her best to the family back in Nauela and to tell them that she’ll try to come home and visit this upcoming weekend.

The return trip back to Nauela doesn’t take as long –still 2 ½ hours though - since I know my way and I don’t take any pictures. As soon as I pull up to my house, I take a quick bucket bath and then immediately head over to tell Wiado about what transpired during my trip. I find him in the back portion of his yard building a latrine, and insists we talk while he finishes up for the day. As I relate the news concerning Angel he still refuses to stop, pretending to be uninterested and indifferent, but you can tell he’s hurt.

He didn’t even know she was married yet.

From his come words like “Good for her”, but anyone can tell he doesn’t mean that. In fact, just as soon as he’s done with that thought out comes accusations that the new husband is a thief for not having come and asked for the right to marry his daughter. Sizing up Angel’s promised visit, he doubts she’ll actually come around anytime soon because he believes she’s too scared to return home after having left on such bad conditions.

Oh drama… :-(

Last blog post - November 30th - Humm! Where to begin? Where to begin? Well let’s start with the fact that I just went to America and back! YAY!

Now you tell me… How CRAZY is that?

And while the trip by itself doesn’t excuse me from not having posted in so long, I figure the fact that I DID get to see so many of you just a few weeks ago while Amanda and I were in Gainesville/Orlando makes up for it a little, right?! :-)

Either way…. now, without further ado, a 3-month recap (albeit a few parts are being left out to not be TOO long… email me if you want the additional blog posts)!

***

Friday November 26th, 2010 – My first wedding in Mozambique!

My foot is almost out the door to start my latest trip (heading to Mocuba for a belated Thanksgiving dinner with PCVs before eventually continuing on to Quelimane in order to renew my visa), when Pastor Vicente swings by and invites me to come to his son’s wedding in Mehecane.

I can’t resist :-)

To put you all at ease, the wedding came and went without a hitch. Daniel and his wife got married and, from what I witnessed, had a great time with all the arrangements (it’s hard to tell though because in most formal events in Mozambique the participant’s faces aren’t supposed to be very expressive). The ceremony was relatively Westernized (the bride wearing a white dress, rings exchanged, the typical vows said…) with a few note worthy exceptions: 1) The bride and groom both started the ceremony in their dressing chambers waiting to be called out in song by the crowd. First the groom came out, then, with some coaxing, the bride. At that point, everyone ran to their seats and, once in place, the bride and groom followed, walking down the aisle together followed by the bride’s family. 2) The ceremony doesn’t end with our famous phrase “You may kiss the bride!” In fact, the couple barely even holds hands during the event. Instead, the climax of the ceremony is when the whole congregation leaves their seats to come up and hug/kiss the newly married couple. 3) Since the area is traditionally matrilineal, the ritual centered around the bride’s family… i.e. - the parents stood behind the soon-to-be-married couple during the entire ceremony, the couple sat with the bride’s family during intervals, and the first people to sign as witnesses to the wedding were the bride’s parents…

After the ceremony was complete, everyone poured outside the church and accompanied the newlyweds to the reception at the bride’s family’s house (a few miles away!). Since there were no cars to be had though, everyone was forced to walk. Onlookers were actually assigned to hold umbrellas over the couple’s heads for the length of the journey due to the combination of the midday heat and stuffy clothes. To celebrate and keep spirits high despite the hardships, everyone sang and, since the walk would be a long one, people had even brought along tape players to blast music when the crowd tired of singing…

Crazy, huh!? Below are some pictures from the special day :-)

An usher waiting outside the groom’s dressing room before the ceremony begins

Women singing for the bride and groom to come out and wed already ;-)

The priest escorting the bride and groom down the aisle follow by the bride’s family

The bride and groom at the altar

The pastor reading from I Corinthians 13

The wedding band – it’s official!

The newly married couple with her parents getting ready to leave the church.

The newly married couple leaving the church through the makeshift archway under the cover of umbrellas.

Also, here are some pictures from Thanksgiving in Mocuba…

This is a random, yet priceless, chapa pic taken on the way to Mocuba. 3 goats and 1 chicken (all alive!) tied to the car’s roof… oh Mozambique!

Yohko cooking up some veggies

Noemi and Amanda stuffing the turkey

Amanda with the spread before her

Noemi, Jordan, Yohko, and Amanda posing for the camera before taking a seat

The whole Thanksgiving dinner crew sitting down and enjoying our meal

Noemi, Amanda, and I pigleting on some awesome chocolate cake

Thursday December 2nd – Thursday December 9th, 2010

“Why am I here again?” is the question I’m asking myself on the 8th day of FGH’s nutrition training here in Quelimane. I’ll admit that the training material is interesting, but it has been drawn out for WAAAY too long. Something that probably could have been summed up for me in a long afternoon or a 1 day lecture has for some reason been dragged out for 10 days. And I’m NOT lifting myself up on a pedestal here! Trust me, it’s not like I’m the only one who feels this way… looking around the room, literally NO ONE is paying attention. Almost all the other participants have their laptops open and are on the internet/email or are completely zonked out, gazing off into space. This is no rare moment either… it’s been like this for days now…

The kicker though, comes later that day as we are polled by the presenters, now that we’re almost at the end of the training, What could be improved for the next training session? Silence. Finally, the head presenter calls out someone from the audience and he thinks hard… after a long pause, what does he come up with? “I think the main problem with this training is that it is TOO SHORT!” Immediately the crowd wakes up and erupts with support. “Yes! For a training of trainers, it should have been AT LEAST 15 days!” being the general consensus.

Gah! Now we’re finally arriving at the crux of the problem, aren’t we? This whole training isn’t actually about teaching anyone anything (I personally doubt that we’ll ever even end up training anyone on the ground level about this stuff). Sadly, just like a lot of the other NGO stuff, this training is all about the money…

What do I mean? Well, in order to fully explain that question, I first have to tell you who is actually in the room, what they do, and what their motivations are… There are three general groups of people participating in this training. 1) PCVs 2) District-level NGO ground workers 3) Provincial-level NGO office management. The first two groups, the PCVs and district-level NGO ground workers are relatively similar. We work on the community level, but come to these meetings because we “have to” (you probably could get out of them if you have something else important going on back at site) and more importantly because we get a fat per diem check, sweet lodging, lots of free food, and an excuse not to do any “real” work for the duration of the trip (you can usually sit around in an air-conditioned room checking your email for days on end if you just keep your mouth shut)... oh, and I guess we come to these meetings to learn something too, right? ;-) The provincial-level NGO office management meanwhile are in these meetings… well I’m not exactly sure why… partly to provide some sort of supervision or insight (although they usually only impede the progress of the other lower ranked workers)… partly because of the free food I’m sure… possibly avoiding doing other work… possibly because there’s nothing better for them to do... or possibly because they are trying to inflate the training’s overall numbers.

That last point, although not necessarily valid (I don’t know if the management counts themselves in the final numbers or not, but I’d be willing to bet they do even though they’ll never be implementing the material), starts to touch on the overall, systematic problem we have here in Mozambique which is: These over-funded NGO’s in Mozambique (thanks to funds coming from USAID or PEPFAR), in general, have way more money than they know what to do with. After a year of working here, I honestly believe I’ve seen enough to assess that the capacity of the system is just too low to be efficient with all this funding and the targets are too high. Both of which lead to problems.

To me, it seems that many NGO’s struggle to even be able to doll out their money fast enough since they have to do it in a semi-legitimate fashion. In Zambezia, the general consensus (because it’s not done by just FGH!) must be that the most efficient/least corruptible way of spending money quickly and producing a numerical result is having all these trainings where employees are shipped in from all over the province to be given meals, expensive lodging, and handed per diem. In a way, it’s actually a perfect system: bringing together a lot of people that can’t wait to get their hands on money (I’ve said before that working for an NGO in Mozambique is one of the most sought after jobs) with a business that can’t wait to give it to them.

Results are demanded for all this money spent though, so they must bring in a lot of people or have a lot of trainings so that numbers can be high. And now, with the year quickly coming to its end, the pressure is high to perform to the max.

So here I am… learning my lesson the hard way.

***

As a side note, in other provinces, instead of doing all these trainings (or in addition to all of them) many NGOs have elected to subcontract out most of their work to Community-Based Organizations (CBOs)… Which basically amounts to seeking out an organized group of ground-level workers, who are actually from the community where they’ll be working, and then building up the local capacity… Sounds promising, right?! Well, unfortunately, the over-funded NGOs are oftentimes so busy frantically looking for new partners to give money to that they don’t generally have time to go back and really monitor/evaluate the work that these small CBOs are doing. Indeed, I know of several PCVs who have witnessed the leaders of these CBOs simply taking their organizations allotted sum of money and building themselves a new house and/or buying a new car.

***

Other thoughts about NGO’s in Mozambique and possibly around the world

-Oftentimes international NGOs start at the top and work their way down. Their first hirings are for management staff and, even years later, there are few actual community workers. Even those NGOs that have ground workers, the practices that they employ are typically thought up in some executive board room somewhere without being ground tested and proven first. In fact, I’ve seen that a lot of NGO’s spend most of their time switching from one strategy to another because they can’t ever figure out something that really works and sticks in their communities.

-The best evidence of “work” being done by an NGO is the main office’s comings and going – phone calls, faxes, copies, cars, etc… very little is actually getting done in the communities even when the workers do get out there.

-Because of the bidding process of how to get funding (as it has been explained to me), NGO’s are pitted against each other and end up having to try to bite off more than they can chew. Ex. - one NGO might tell the donor that with the 5 million dollar grant they can train 5000 trainers and thus help 100,000 people. Another NGO then comes up and says with the same money they can train 6000 and help 200,000. Yet another NGO… (you get the picture)… I don’t know how they even come up with these numbers, but it just gets a little ridiculous in my opinion. NGOs end up committing to serving an entire province without having any infrastructure at the ground level. Furthermore, since projects normally only last a few years, by the time they’ve made their hires it seems the project is already almost complete and the process starts all over again.

***

Other random thoughts while sitting through the training

-So often we spend SO MUCH time talking about helping the absolute WORST case scenarios (one example we spent 2 hours discussing: a single mom with several kids who is HIV positive, sick and unable to work, non-compliant and possibly resistant to available HIV meds, a social outcast, and already used upher allotted food support from the government/NGO… now what do we do?!). Which begs the question, Should aid be FOCUSED on going to the MOST needy? I don’t know, but it reminds me of my time working for ASP when we actually had to turn families away because their house was too much work (not exactly the same situation, I know… but still). Like I said before, I’m not exactly sure how I feel about this thought yet but maybe we should start spending more time trying to help those whose actions hint that they are up and coming and just need a tiny hand up, not just a handout. It’s a fine line though because I know you CAN win over these “lost causes”… but it requires the right set of people coming with a lot of sustained effort… and a lot of times something that isn’t typically involved in NGO help: God.

-At the beginning of the nutrition training we all went around and introduced ourselves. Randomly all the men, without prompting, openly bragged about how many children they had from the SAME woman (i.e.- that they hadn’t had many children from many different wives)… it caught me off guard, that’s all.

-Last comment, the new Moz 15 PCVs arrived in Quelimane this week. FGH only received 1 PCV, Angela, this year. Hope things will go better with her than they’ve been going with our group.

Friday December 24th, 2010 - Christmas Eve

Here I am in Quelimane all excited and getting ready for an expat Christmas party tomorrow, totally unaware of what tragedies are transpiring back in Nauela… (I’m informed when I get back to site a few days later)

Early in the morning, the 3 year-old granddaughter of Janeiro, the owner of my house, wakes up crying and sick with what everyone pegs as a simple high fever. The family takes the child to the medical agent’s house (no one was at the hospital at the time because of the holidays) but, regardless of the symptoms, all they have available to give her is aspirin. The family graciously accepts the medicine to administer back at home only to see the granddaughter’s health condition quickly worsen. In fact, within hours she begins vomiting mysterious black liquids. At that point, the family knows something is wrong, but, without any highly trained doctor or specialized medicine, there’s not much more that can be done besides pray that the illness passes. The child loses consciousness during the night and, consequently, the community moms come over and pray till morning. At this point though, the local medical staff comes over and pronounces the child dead :-(

This situation is a just a peek into the causes of Mozambique’s high under-5 child mortality rate, 163.7 (per 1,000 live births), compared the U.S.’s which is 7.8 (per 1,000 live births). Although NGO’s and governments will often ask for money to help solve these problems, oftentimes the solutions that I see to these problems on the ground aren’t always to throw more money at it. Indeed, I believe that, without importing foreign aid workers, it’s simply a matter of waiting it out, hoping that modest levels of foreign aid, political stability, and education can improve the capacity of the local workers and systems to deal with these crises.

Saturday December 25th, 2010 – Merry Christmas!

Amanda, Bern, and I walk into the house, take one whiff of the fresh-out-of-the-oven turkey, and immediately feel at home: Americans popping out of the seams, presents under a decorated Christmas tree, and food galore… sure does sound like a good ole’ fashion Christmas back in the States. Odd thing is though that this party is actually going on right here in Quelimane courtesy of the Hiltons, an American/Australian missionary family that have lived in Mozambique for more than a decade (Brian, the dad, works as a provincial supervisor for World Vision’s agriculture projects).

The party goes late in to the night with all kinds of festivities: devotional time, group Christmas carols, a white elephant gift exchange (Have I been in Mozambique for too long when even the gag gifts are looking pretty sweet to me?!), a huge potluck dinner, and a few rounds of cards with the Hiltons to finish up the night; hands down a better Christmas experience than last year’s (i.e. – when I was stuck inside the house by myself in Nauela while it poured down rain outside).

Amanda showing off the Christmas decorations that we made in Morrumbala

Ethan, a PCV in Quelimane, on Christmas morning all excited because our ghetto Xmas stockings are full!

Amanda and I about to empty our stockings on Christmas morning

A group of expats singing Christmas carols at the Hilton’s house

Amanda, Sally, and I with our presents after the gift exchange

Amanda and I so happy to see a decorated Christmas tree!

Despite all the fun though, I still miss you all back home like crazy! Merry Christmas to you all! Hopefully I’ll be seeing you soon when I come to Florida in January/February :-)

Tuesday December 28th, 2010

Back at site again and, Guess what?! … I’ve officially called Nauela “home” for 1 year now. Crazy!

No better way to celebrate than me restarting my garden today by planting the seedling flats. Hopefully the seeds will germinate in time for me to transplant them before I head to America! Let’s keep our fingers crossed…

Thursday December 30th, 2010 – Monday January 3rd, 2011 – Happy New Years!

Standing on the side of the road on the outskirts of Nampula City being harassed by two wandering policemen, I can’t help but think about how the smallest action can have such a profound impact on everything following it. If we had just arrived a few minutes earlier or later… caught a slower/faster ride here or sat down to have a bite to eat there…. things could be totally different. Ironically, as the police pester me, I am lamenting the fact that things weren’t different, when, if I could see into the future, I would be counting my blessings.

Gritting my teeth while re-explaining to the underpaid police officer that everything IS, in fact, fine with my passport/visa when he keeps insisting otherwise, it becomes blatantly obvious that all he wants is a bribe… and anyone who knows me well, knows that I’m far too stubborn to give into THAT! Meanwhile, Amanda has given up on the discussion, deciding it best to just continue flagging down rides. One car stops and talks to Amanda. Another car passes, turns around and pulls up. Assessing the situation (white people being harassed by corrupt police), both drivers quickly step out to see what’s up.

“Don’t say anything. Let me handle this!” says the middle eastern-looking man in his broken English. And handle it do they. Before Amanda and I even know what’s going on the first driver has paid off the cops (200 mets ~ $6USD – what a deal!) and we’re being escorted into a minivan by the English-speaking Pakistani-looking man. His 6 person family is already squished in, but there’s always room for 1 or 2 more, right?

The whole series of events has Amanda and I unnerved and a little frazzled. Where are we heading? And possibly more importantly, Who are these people we’re with?! Our worries are calmed a bit though as we’re offered sodas and crackers by the children before even having time to catch any names, including that of our day’s savior… turns out he’s Hanane (Huh-na-nee).

We promptly learn that Hanane and his family are on their way to Chocas to celebrate New Years and, before they even know where we’re heading/what we’re doing/who we are, they offer to take us with them. Caught off guard by the hospitality, we politely refuse their generous offer, insisting that we already have plans to go to Ilha de Mozambique to meet up with some fellow PCVs. En route, however,I receive a text informing me that all of our Zambezia friends are tired of traveling, so they’re dipping out on us last minute… “but have a great time!” they say… thanks guys ;-) We vocalize our letdown and immediately Hanane renews his offer to take us to Chocas... “there’s even an extra room for you!”

We’re sold.

***

Chocas was everything it had been billed to be… and more (!) since we got to spend our time here with an awesome family and because we didn’t have to pay for a thing!

Me and Hanane’s son chilling at the beach house

Amanda and I in front of Chocas’s beach

Hanane and I getting ready to hit the water for an evening swim

Me and the girls posing on New Year’s Eve

Despite the fact that Amanda and I were staying at a beach front condo, one of the highlights of the trip actually had nothing to do with the water or sand. No… in one word it was: Lemurs! Ever since we had arrived in Chocas, a constant crowd of locals had been huddled outside the condo trying unsuccessfully to sell the family random things like mangos, fish, necklaces, etc. This time, however, someone caught the young girls’ attention when offering up 2 lemurs for sale (only 60 mets each ~ $2USD). Although I morally objected to the purchase, I didn’t feel I was in a position to argue with our host… that and they REALLY were the cutest, most docile, adorable little creatures ever!

To be honest though, Amanda nor I are really 100% sure they were Lemurs (if so, they were a particularly small variety), but Chocas/Ilha is very close to Madagascar so maybe. Whatever they were (Hanane’s family kept calling them “squirrels” in Portuguese), they were really fun to play with and the best part is that they escaped from their makeshift cage in the night, so everyone came out a winner :-)

Amanda loving the lemur on her shoulder

Another pleasant, unexpected surprise during the trip was that our fellow beachgoers in Chocas went all out and put on a very impressive, personal fireworks show to bring in the New Year. Although one in America might think that fireworks on New Years is nothing special, I definitely wasn’t holding my breath expecting to see anything more than a sparkler.

***

Interestingly, my Lonely Planet guidebook says this about Chocas: “an agreeable day trip or excursion, except during holiday weekends when it’s completely overrun”. Sure enough, arriving in Chocas for New Year’s weekend, the small beach town is packed. One thing the guidebook failed to mention though is the nuance that literally ALL the visitors are business owners in Nampula City of Indian/Pakistani heritage. I’m not hating. On the contrary, it made for a surprising and intriguing cultural experience while interacting within this small social niche.

First thing to know about Chocas when overrun by the Nampulanites… there are 3 streets in the town and if you want to go anywhere fast, don’t go down the middle one. Seriously, it becomes a parking lot with everyone in their tricked out rides (Landrovers, H2s, ATVs, etc) honking their horns pretending like they’ve got somewhere to be when the town’s so small no one really needs to be in their cars anyways.

Watching this madness unfold while sitting by and chatting with some of our host’s friends, I pondered out loud “How in the world local business owners can afford these cars here in Mozambique?”… I mean, I know there is profit to be made here, but THAT much, really?! Without really expecting an answer, someone chimed in and informed me that almost all the cars and ATVs here in Chocas have actually been allegedly “stolen” from their original South African owners who really smuggled them into Mozambique and sold them on black market then claimed the insurance on them.

“That’s just the way things are done around here. If you try to do things legally, the government will be the one’s robbing you” says the family friend trying to assuage me… huh, apparently so…

***

On New Years Day Amanda and I wake up early and leave Chocas so we can finally make it to our trip’s original destination: Ilha de Moçambique (Mozambique Island). Although only one of our PCV friends will be there, we don’t know if/when we’ll be back to these parts and we really want to make the visit not because of its beaches, but rather because of its significance in Mozambique’s history.

Amanda and I crossing the bridge to Ilha in the back of a pickup truck

To all you back at home who probably don’t know this, Ilha de Moçambique was actually the first capital city used by the Portuguese to govern and trade with the area during colonial times. The country of Mozambique lends its name from this tiny island which, although no one is certain, is possibly derived from the the name and title of an area leader at the time “Musa bin Mbiki”. Ilha had been relatively uninhabited up until the Portuguese founded Stone Town on the island because of its lack of fresh drinking water (they relied heavily on collecting rainwater in large cisterns back then… water is pumped in today from the mainland, however). In spite of this obstacle, the Portuguese choose the island for the advantages it offered in trading and navigation.

In its heyday, Ilha was a huge navy base, missionary center, and trading point where ships would load up on goods from all over the mainland (ie - beads, ivory, wood, etc), but was especially infamous for its thriving slave market. Slaves were brought from all over the east coast of Africa and sent off on packed ships to the East.

During our two day stay in Ilha, Amanda and I met up with some other PCVs, toured the historical sites of the island, and even snuck in some time at the “swimming beach” (I’ll explain later…). The island is basically divided into two parts: the historical Stone Town and the relatively newer Makuti Town.

Stone town is located on the high-sitting part of the island where the Arab and Portuguese traders long ago oversaw the construction of the large stone buildings that still exist today. The fort is the largest and most impressive building still intact on the island today, but other buildings, such as the former Governor’s house, have been rehabilitated and are in use or open to the public.

Amanda and I in front of some old port entrance

The historic governor’s house, where Mozambique was originally governed from by the Portuguese

The island’s old catholic church

Me getting ready to eat a snail… chewy… but not too bad with some lemon and spice :-)

Amanda, Megan, and I in front of Ilha’s fort

Me looking out of the Governor’s window inside the fort

Amanda, Alyssa and I manning the fort’s canons

Our tour guide showing us where/how the Portuguese would execute people. Turns out, they’d have them stand where he is and simultaneously shoot at the prisoner from positions all around.

The historic slave market, now memorial garden, where slaves were once brought in and sold to the highest bidder

Happy New Years! I’m making the face I am, BTW, because the sign also says “Boas Festas” which translates to “Happy Holidays”, but usually a phrase someone says to you when they’re really just asking of money.

On the other hand, Makuti town is located on the low-setting part of the island where the majority of today’s native islanders live. The height differential from one side of the island to the other is especially so because the Portuguese ordered slaves to dig out and lug over all the stones to construct Stone Town from the other side of the island, largely uninhabited at the time. Makuti town is now very much over populated with almost no space in between any of the shacks. Thus, there is little room for amenities such as bathrooms. Instead the locals must resort to using the largest toilet in the world - the ocean. In fact, it is very common to see someone openly popping a squat alongside one of the islands coastal areas leaving little doubt as to what he is doing. Therefore, many of the island’s beaches are recommendable for swimming.

This is a view from street level. Notice how low the houses and close together are?! And they aren’t in the best of shape either…

That said, in Stone town, where most of the tourists stay and visit, amenities are plentiful. During our visit we heard from numerous sources that there’s already serious talk of tearing down parts of Makuti town to build more tourism accommodations. They say they’ll relocate the people to who knows where with promises of them receiving better lodging too… but we’ll see about all that!

As you can see, although Ilha is a tourist destination there is still significant poverty and struggles in the area. Thus, there’s actually a Moz 14 PCV who lives and teaches at the secondary school on the island. Tough job, but great location :-)

Wednesday January 5th, 2011

On my way to Mehecane today I was pushing my bike up a large hill when I came across a disabled woman whose crippled legs hung below her in “Indian-style” as she moved down the mountain, swinging on her arms in a monkey-like pattern. While I was panting and exhausted, she passed me on the treacherous mountainous path in relatively good spirits, not even breaking a sweat (with a baby tied to her back nonetheless… the baby was also crippled so I figure it’s a genetic disorder). Man!, here I am grouchy about biking all this way and she’s pulling herself up and down mountains on her hands without any complaint whatsoever.

If I hadn’t figured it out already, it’s confirmed later that day that she’s actually quite a capable woman. Not only is she able to get around, but she also works in her field planting and harvesting crops as well as pounding and cooking her own food. Turns out she used to be quite social, but then withdrew from community institutions (like the church) because she had developed a harsh attitude that turned a lot of people off.

Unfortunately, I’m told that the young woman is all-too-frequently located at one of the area bars and can become very aggressive if she has drunk too much. At one point, she even reportedly attacked and tried to strangle a passing truck driver who demanded she (drunk at the time) get out of the middle of the road to let his car pass. Although she has settled down and gotten married recently, most of her children are from other men she’s slept around with.

It’s incredibly depressing to me that she has worked as one of the local prostitutes for a long time likely because she saw it as her best and only option to be able survive during hard times….

I mean, Who can really judge or blame her? It’s not like there are any social services or infrastructure out here that can support someone in her condition (i.e. - even if they gave her a wheelchair bike, she wouldn’t be able to use it too much because of the steep hills and rough terrain). As the son of Special Ed teacher and a brother of an autistic teen, if I wasn’t before, I’m especially aware and grateful now for all the opportunities, services, and support that America offers those with disabilities… it truly is one of the great aspects of our country. I hope we keep on improving those efforts and that our future advances will not be limited to just within our country’s borders.

***

As a side note, (now several weeks later) just yesterday I came across a man in Eleve who uses a wheelchair bike. Ever since birth, his legs have been deformed and only permitted him to limp around his house with the help of a cane. Before getting the bike, if he ever wanted to travel some distance (even within the village), he had to rely on the force of his family members and neighbors. Now, although he still requires help to go from village to village, he is largely able to commute from one side of town to another without help due to the area’s flat ground. A definite success!

Monday January 10th, 2011

As I type this, there’s a Vodacom cell phone tower that’s officially under construction in Nauela. They are working really hard and are a real professional group of workers who seems to know exactly what they are doing. I actually talked at length with the supervisor and he informed me that their company builds these all the time, having already constructed 300+ cell towers in Mozambique.

My head is swimming!

I can’t even imagine how nice it’ll be to just be able chill in my house and talk to people via my cell phone. Courtesy of Bluetooth, I might even be able to surf the internet on my computer here in Nauela (I’ll just have to invest in a nice, fancy phone once the cell tower is up and running…)

Not having to go up the road to make a call would be awaesome 1) just for convenience, 2) for safety reasons at night, and 3) because, now that it’s the rainy season, it seems like there is a downpour almost every evening/night!

A panoramic of the tower’s cement foundation

Wiado and his son Salimo proudly standing in front of Nauela’s hottest new project

All the tower’s pieces being painted and organized so construction can go smoothly.

***

BTW, the government decided to do another routine personnel switch up (we changed district administrators a few months back) so we now have a new “Chefe do Posto” and, low and behold, now Nauela’s generator is working again! Looks like this new guy has decided to not sell off the gasoline! YAY! :-)

Monday January 26th – Tuesday February 15th, 2011 – Americaland!

What more can I say than:

It … was … AWESOME!

Seriously though: returning home while traveling around the world with the love of my life, meeting her mom, stepdad, and good friend from college, staying at REALLY NICE hotels, clothes shopping it up wherever we could, strolling along the Atlantic Ocean at Cocoa Beach, hitting up NASA and the Kennedy Space Center, seeing all that Orlando has to offer (including MANY views of the Amway arena! Haha... inside joke), experiencing old Florida cuisine while chewing on fried frog legs and gator tail with Ed and Rosa Lee, partying it up Tudeen-style at Aunt Sue’s house, having dreams come true at Walt Disney World for three straight days (Magic Kingdom, Hollywood Studies, and Animal Kingdom), FINALLY meeting and hanging out with Tricia (my brother’s not-so-newly-found love), introducing Amanda to SO MANY of my family and friends (including two who flew in from opposite corners of the country… thank you SO MUCH Ricky and Chris!), proudly showing off Gainesville and the University of Florida to Amanda, visiting the oldest city in America (St. Augustine, FL) and having lunch with my mom’s new boyfriend Mike, being welcomed home by Trinity UMC, eating awesome food over and over again, dropping in to wish my good friend Lauren well, and topping it all off by having a very special Valentine’s Day with Amanda.

Simply AWESOME! I know I said that word already, but it just needed to be said again :-)

A big thank you goes out to all those of you who welcomed me and Amanda back home with open arms. I’m now more excited than ever to come back to start med school and I know that Amanda came away from the visit (impressed by both the area and people) with a good feeling about the idea of moving to Gainesville/Orlando/Florida when she’s done with the Peace Corps. I’m sure that everyone who saw how beautiful, fun, smart, and communicative she is was impressed… but I promise you that you’ll grow to love her even more as you get to know her better :-)

BTW it was definitely an eye-opener when I kept hearing from people “Come on Michael! Your last blog post was on Thanksgiving… Pick it up!”. I had no idea I had such a following! It made me smile and definitely was a big motivator for writing this gargantuan post…

Besides all that, I’ll let the pictures and their captions say the rest:

Maputo

Amanda and I playing dress up at the Hazel's house in Maputo

Orlando - Hotel, Citywalk, and International Drive

Hotel nights: Adam, Mariah, me, Amanda, and Katie all hanging out in our awesome suite

Katie, Patrizia, Amanda, and I at City Walk's entrance

Amanda and Patrizia infront of Universal Studios' globe

Al and me rocking out at the Cafe.

Lounging around Margaritaville

Wishing we were as cool as Harry and his friends

Amazed by the Wonderworks architecture

The mini golf crew: Patrizia, Mariah, Al, Me, Amanda, and Katie

Patrizia really getting into charades

Like mother, like daughter...

Cocoa Beach

Patrizia chasing the seagulls at Cocoa Beach

Just plain fun bonding time :-)

Afternoon at Bok tower

Last day at the new Grand Hilton Suites...

Family meeting day at Bok tower

Mariah and Amanda feeding the evil swans

Bok Tower!

Me and Amanda having a moment as the sun goes down on our day at Bok Tower

The ladies posing for a picture!

NASA

NASA! So much cooler than I remember it in 6th grade!

The Apollo rocket

Disney/Orlando

A last trip with Patrizia to Downtown Disney

Goofin' around trying to be scary

Cutest couple... for sure!

Disney Day 1: Magic Kingdom

Cinderella castle... gets the memories flowin every time!

Thundermountain Railroad

Don't mess with these pirates

Amanda, Mariah, and Adam taking a spin on the carosel.

Disney Day 2: Hollywood Studios

Getting pumped for the Toy Story Mania ride (with Bryan and Tricia!)

Amanda beat me at Toy Story :-(

Enjoying a last moment together over ice cream before BT and Tricia split for Edgewater.

A real-life disney pricess and her magician!

The girls making one last pose in front of Mickey's hat before calling it a night.

Disney Day 3: Animal Kingdom

Thursday November 4rd, 2010

Listen up! Word to the wise: As of about a month ago, there’s a new kid in town... which means…. Yep! You guessed it!... We’re no longer the newbie punching bags around here. We’re actually (scary thought!) the experienced, all-powerful, all-knowing, wise sage-esk PCVs who have never and will never make any mistakes! I mean, as soon as December comes around and all the ole’ 13ers have packed their bags, tucked their tales, and run back to the States… we’re practically going to be running this program!

Okay, so I’ll admit it… all that is a little ridiculous... to say the least! Moz 13 has always been really nice to us (Moz 14) and my guess is that a lot of the new incoming Moz Health PCVs probably have more experience/knowledge than I do. So don’t worry too much about all those ramblings above regarding us running this joint. Ultimately, the take home point is this: there’s a new group of PCT’s (Moz 15) and I’m down in Namaacha this week to help out with their training :-)

And from my limited interactions with them thus far, they seem to be a pretty cool group! They are a lot more demographically diverse (ie age, gender, sexual orientation, race, etc) than our group and, sure enough, have more degrees and experience than Moz 14 to boot (a few people have MPHs and there’s even someone who has already served as a PCV in another country for 2 years and is back here for 2 more… Wow! Can’t imagine…)!

I said “limited interactions” above because, after paying for all us volunteers to come down to Namaacha from all over the country to help out with training, Peace Corps is actually demanding that we do work while we’re here. Imagine their nerve! ;-) This whole week, Yohko and I have stayed quite busy during the day helping out with meetings and even during our downtime in the evenings we find ourselves planning for other sessions.

Luckily, though, our visit to training coincides with Permagardening (the don’t call it Permaculture anymore because it isn’t a complete inclusion of all of Permaculture’s principles) so several sessions are being led by the awe-inspiring Peter Jensen… which means we get to chill in the background and just try to keep the group motivated. Peter, even fresh-off a flight from Dar-es-Salaam, has been his inspirational self as usual. The group has had several people who have really gotten into Permagardening during the training… hopefully they’ll do a better job than us keeping up the momentum once they get to their sites (our group had several people who jumped head first into Permaculture during training, but quickly lost steam once outside Namaacha… myself included!). During the hands-on sessions in the practice garden I had a chance to ask Peter about some of my lingering questions and now I feel reenergized to tackle the topic again in Nauela. Can’t wait to get back to site to try things out again!

So even though I just said I am always busy down here… somehow I’ve managed to visit my host family 3 times during the week, hanging out and talking with them over dinner. They are all doing well and the kids growing up so quickly! (I feel like a grandparent when I say that…) I even got to bring my computer over yesterday evening and showed them my photos from the past year at site. They loved ‘em, especially the one’s of the mountains and my garden. They aren’t hosting a volunteer this year because PC decided their house was too far away from the center of town… but that’s a shame because they are, as I relearned in the past few days, AWESOME!

In short, the week has been GREAT thus far… but issues with my visa are lurking ahead…

Turns out the Mozambican government skyrocketed the price of visas this year and Peace Corps Mozambique hasn’t gotten the new budget approved yet for those price increases. So what to do? Well if you are at site, you’re advised to stay put… but since I’m here in Namaacha already, we figure it’s best that I get a temporary 30 day visa at the Swaziland border to buy us some time. The catch is, however, that my current year-long visa expires on Tuesday and you can’t get a temporary visa when your current visa is still active. Right now, the fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants idea is for me to stick around Maputo/Namaacha and fly back to Nampula once it gets resolved… whenever that is! Sooo… looks like a few extra days with the new trainees :-)

Sunday November 7th, 2010

Even though we’re no experts on child nutrition, our Friday afternoon sessions on the subject go pretty well. I feel really happy because the PCTs were interacting a lot with Yohko and I, suggesting that they were at least somewhat interested and engaged in our discussions and games. What makes it even more impressive is that it was almost the weekend and they are in the “hump” week of training... so what I’m saying is that we’re pretty much awesome at this whole training instructor thing ;-)

***

I glance down at my watch. Eh, what does that say? The sweat dripping down from my brow doesn’t make it any easier to read the time as I fly downhill running. My pace slows and I pause for a moment: 3:55pm. Almost late! I turn around the corner at the bottom of the hill as instructed and follow the length of the gigantic baize wall topped with terrifying spikes rising up on my left … I must almost be there … Finally, an entrance! Armed guards peer out and cautiously swing open the heavy gate while demanding to see my documents. Long after my breathing slows, they eventually accept my story and let me pass unscathed. Two steps forward and the metal gate slams shut behind me.

“Where am I?” Visiting a maximum security prison? Seeking out the ambassador at the U.S. embassy? Trying to gain the attention of His Excellence Armando Emilio Guebuza (President of Mozambique)?

No silly! All those hyped up security measures are solely for the USAID housing complex: an oasis of American livelihood tucked away in one of Maputo’s many nooks and crannies. Although located just a stone’s throw from the water’s edge, there is no ocean view from these mansions (relatively speaking). The 12-foot-tall fortification surrounding the complex prevents any chance of that. The houses (and their occupants) are cut off from the view of the outside world and are seemingly content to do without even a small peek into what is beyond their walls. And why not? Upon stepping foot inside the compound, one immediately feels the relief of having escaped all the poverty, crime, and problems that run rampant in the surrounding streets, as if one has stepped through some kind of magical transport to America’s pristine suburbia. A little creepy at first actually…

Just past the guarded entrance, I’m awestruck. A year ago I wouldn’t have even given it a second thought. “Ho hum. Nothing special...” But halfway through my Peace Corps service, a good ole’ American cul-de-sac has me near trembling as I slowly move about the houses. It’s a feeling difficult to describe to those of you back at home, but there is something eerie, yet exciting and nostalgic, about simply watching the neighborhood kids run around on grassy lawns, escape the summer heat by splashing one another in inflatable swimming pools, and contently dig around in a sandbox as the time passes by. While it reminds me so much of home, it all seems so out of place and unreal here in Mozambique!

The inside of my host’s house is no less surprising. Of course there are the basic amenities of a nice house in a big city (running water, electricity, television, air-conditioning, tiles/carpeting, etc), but there are also more startling, unique aspects of the house: the shelves are stalked with American goodies (apparently each family is granted a 2,500 pound non-perishable food shipment once a year) and the kitchen is outfitted with all the household appliances you could ever dream of (including a waffle press that we definitely made use of the following morning!). The bedrooms contain various workout machines, the playroom has a huge doll house, the extra bathroom is storing a recently used microbrew kit, and the living room boasts beer on tap… ridiculous! Exploring the house’s nuances, perhaps the only real reminders of the African locale are the various pieces of art hung throughout the living space: African masks, batiks, sculptures and the like. A nice house I was prepared for. I’ve been in plenty of them in Quelimane, Nampula, and even Maputo. Just none that so well imitated all the little intricacies of American life. It’s crazy!

Needless to say, I man up and adapt. ;-) Soon the shock wears off and my mindset melds comfortably with this secluded overseas American lifestyle. That night, I sleep in an air-conditioned room on an extra cushy, king-size bed and wake up feeling PRETTY DARN refreshed. On the slate for breakfast? Home-made waffles, of course! Sunday morning plans? Lending a hand constructing the neighborhood playground set bought and delivered from Home Depot!... Next up for lunch? Delivered pizza!... Seriously?! This is just ridiculous and TOO fun, but a nice escape from the past year of roughing it :-)

If my hosts are out there reading this back in Maputo… just want to say thank you all so much for your hospitality and generosity! You guys are awesome and inspire me give back to others around me in need :-)

***

I come back to PST in Namaacha telling the trainees about my weekend digs/activities and there’s definitely a hint of jealousy in their responses. Some say “That’s great!” or “Sweet!”… others are a little indignant replying “Is that what our tax dollars are paying for?!” and “Now THAT is exactly what’s wrong with international development!”

I immediately rebuke them (initially probably because of how well it has treated me in the past two days!), but taking a step back, Are they right in some way? Is all this luxury, associated exclusively with expat State and development workers, in the middle of so much poverty, a bad thing?

What do you all back home think?

Tuesday November 16th, 2010

Big pot, little pot – a comparison:

One thing I’ve noticed since arriving here in Nauela is that, when preparing meals, people usually have two pots: A big one for rice/xima and another, significantly smaller, one for whatever sauce (flavoring) they can scrounge up. Sometimes, in the drier months, the smaller pot disappears and all that’s served for dinner is a helping of xima or nothing at all.

I, on the other hand, also have the two pot system working for me, but it’s oftentimes the opposite: the big pot for sauce and the other smaller one for rice (never xima!).

The tale of the two pots illustrates many things. 1) Usually I am eating alone or with one other person so we don’t need a lot of base carbs 2) I have more money to buy whatever sauce I need at a moment’s notice 3) Maize and rice are easy to store for long periods of time and are, generally speaking, readily available in the area. 4) There’s a cultural preference of filling up the belly with carbs whether or not there is other food available.

***

Renewing the permagarden spirit:

Since arriving back at site from my week or so at PST (where I helped out with Permaculture lessons), I’ve become all jazzed-up again about teaching aspects of Permagardening in the community. Last year I was really worried about stepping on toes and trying to educate a farmer population about agricultural practices when I really had no clue as to what the heck I was talking about! I mean I had never even grown a vegetable before… How am I supposed to tell a life-long farmer what do differently?!

This year things are going to be a little different. Everyone saw me successfully grow a number of crops last year (in a place and during the time of year when most people said the plants couldn’t be grown) and are interested to see how I’m doing it. So far it’s been pretty easy to get an audience. I started up a new compost pile next to my house by gathering fallen leaves along the street and neighbors immediately starting asking me what the heck I was doing. I politely responded, telling them just enough to gain their attention and then left ‘em dangling wanting more. In the end, I agreed to teach composting at the houses of several neighbors over the next week or so and even talk to the local church about various agriculture problems people are having. First I’ll ask them to share their problems and then I’ll suggest some solutions and we’ll see how it goes from there. Maybe people will want to do some kind of training, maybe not. Either way, I’m definitely still trying to approach the Ag issue with a lot of humbleness.

***

Today was the day: my first loss at chess in Nauela to a young man named Vladimiro, a Mozambican from Quelimane who is in town to help proctor the end-of-the-year national exams. I find out after the loss that he’s won the Zambezia provincial chess championship several times in the past. So… I don’t feel too bad about losing to him :-) At the end of the match I also talked to him about me trying to start up a chess club here and he promised that before he left, he’d give me another chess board and chess strategy manual, in Portuguese, to help our chess club start off strong at the beginning of next school year.

Speaking of chess makes me think of my best and most fervent chess student: Rogerio, my rapaz. Sad thing is that as soon as I came back to Nauela from PST I discovered that he had failed ALL of his classes this year! Now it looks like he’s going to have to repeat (again) 10th grade. Not sure if he’ll be back in Nauela anytime soon to talk about it, but I’m REALLY bummed! He’s a smart kid, but people (other students/teachers) tell me now that’s he just hasn’t been working hard this whole year.

Unfortunately, this isn’t a new thing. Students have been telling me that he’s been missing classes and not putting forth all his effort all year, but when I approached him about it in the past he said those people were lying and just trying to get him in trouble because they (or a friend of theirs) wanted to work for me in his place. I took his word for it, but never went to his classroom and actually talked with his teacher. My mistake… :-(

Worst thing is that I had these grand hopes of him passing 10th grade and then me helping sponsor his schooling next school year in Alto Moloque (we don’t have 11th and 12th grade here in Nauela). But now that it seems he hasn’t been trying academically all along, I feel that he has lost that opportunity. A downer for me and him both. I wanted it to work out SO bad! You can get so frustrated sometimes when things like this happen. Here’s a kid who so much going for him… and he just let it slip away.

***

Random thought. During my last blog post, I referred to how I was happy about how the Natural Medicine training here in Nauela had gone. In the same breath, I also briefly spoke out about how it definitely WASN’T a perfect training by any stretch of the imagination (we’ll see if any of the knowledge spreads throughout the community…) , but at least there purposefully hadn’t been huge amounts of excessive money and/or outside resources thrown into it. Below is a real life example of how heavy-funded trainings can go wrong:

Trainings can be such a waste! Just the other day I was visiting a fellow volunteer’s site when I ran across an expat NGO doctor who was discussing the highs and lows of this week-long training she had spent months setting up and how she is now neck-deep in frustrations.

In this international development age of “sustainability and capacity building” (definitely jargon words!), trainings aren’t supposed to be put on entirely by ex-pat staff members (NGO’s in Mozambique actually have a maximum percentage (10%?)of their in-country workforce that can be foreigners). No, instead trainings should be partnerships where host-country nationals are the main facilitators. This is good because they are obviously fluent in the language and cultural norms, but can be bad if they aren’t up to par on the information they are doling out.

This one particular doctor was going off, talking about how her overly zealous host-country national counterparts were simply fabricating answers to health questions they didn’t know, rather than admit to their ignorance and appeal to a higher authority (the medical doctor) for the answer (as one might expect, the imaginative answers were quite WRONG). Some of the information had been so erroneous that, when nearing the end of the training, the doctor was simply hoping that the people attending the training would FORGET all that they learned that week because it’d be better than spreading all the false information they had been fed.

Hear that?! That’s the sound of $8000 USD down the drain! Not to be too harsh, but seriously… what is there to show for the monetary investment? Wrong concepts being taught, transportation and a week’s worth of food and lodging for the participants and trainers… and best of all… the infamous per diem.

Even though the trainees were all getting fed breakfast, lunch, and dinner, the NGO was still providing every person with 1000 mets per diem (that’s 5000-6000 mets for the week… a small fortune for a lot of people here in Zambezia!). And what for exactly? Good question… As I saw the trainees loading into their privately rented chapa at the end of the week, packed in the back seat were newly purchased speakers, TVs, and DVD players to name a few… riddle solved.

Not too be too critical of Mozambican’s who take full advantage of the per diem thrown at them… We, PCVs, look forward to per diem handouts surrounding periodic meetings from our partnered organizations too. In my opinion, the problem isn’t those who are using what they are given… it’s at the people who are giving it! Seriously though, sometimes I feel that international NGOs are just trying to find semi-legit reason to spend all their money so they won’t get a budget cut down the road…

Thursday November 18th, 2010

Site placement :

Amanda is at PST this week and today was the long anticipated day of site placement for the new PCVs! Yay! They find out where they’ll be for the next 2 years and we take a look at who’ll be our new neighbors for our last leg of the Peace Corps journey. During my week at training, I met all of the Moz 15 health volunteers, but the closest new volunteers will all be from the education sector. So although the mystery has been revealed as to who’ll be replacing the exiting Moz 13ers around me, right now all I’ve got is a list of names without faces. Still… exciting stuff!

Up in flames:

Nauela is an area of pyromaniacs! Seriously! Sure you could argue that some/most of the burning is necessary or at least functional (ie the parents going to their fields and lighting last year’s crop refuse on fire to make way for this year’s), but I’d also argue that they enjoy it to some degree… maybe too much for their own good!

Thing is, all too often these flames come back to haunt the surrounding communities and yet somehow everyone is still amazed it happens again and again. Flash back: two months ago, a whole mountainside field of un-harvested beans is engulfed in flames and ruined by some drunk teenager playing with matches. Flash back: one month ago, an area church goes up in smoke when someone leaves their burning trash pile unattended and a rogue flame flies on top of the nearby grass roof. Today, more of the same: a little boy is flippantly lighting matches, trying to imitate his parents and, poof!, there goes a makeshift stick house with a grass roof (Thank God that at least no one was injured in all these fires…).

This most recent burning is the only one I got to witness up close and personal and thus it made a big impact on me. With the dried grass roof acting as fuel for the eager fire, it is incredible, but not surprising, how swiftly the entire house burst into flames and was reduced to embers… only in a matter of minutes really.

Quick add on: Although not the entire reason for the preference of tin roofs, being flame retardant is definitely a plus. I recently discovered that the primary reason for saving up to buy a tin roof (each sheet cost about 250 mets, or $8 dollars, and a house needs around 20… so about $160!) is actually so that you won’t have to keep taking off last year’s aged grass, going out into bush to cut and collect new grass, and then replacing/adding a new layer to the roof (all the while worrying about the excessive weight that builds up from layers of grass). A tin roof is a HUGE expense for the people here that are mostly living hand-to-mouth, but people recognize that it’s a great investment because it saves 2-4 WEEKS of labor a year by avoiding having to go out and redo the roof.

Actually, a little trick of the trade for you here in Mozambique… When approaching a rural community, one can (generally speaking) quickly tell the agricultural success of the area by simply seeing how many tin roofs are in place. If the general population has enough money to be doing some long-term investing (a tin roof mind you… we’re not talking about Wall Street here!), then things are going pretty well!

Friday November 19th, 2010

Going against my roots:

Gainesville, FL (where I was born and raised) is a pretty tree hugger place I feel. And I have welcomed and embraced that vibe my whole life (generally speaking)… until today!

Picture this: me in the middle of some scrubby bushes with a machete in my hand, whaling away with all the force I have at a big tree branch. Now picture this: me still in the bush… but with the machete now on the ground as I’ve given up on cutting through the rock-solid branch and have now resolved to try to use my weight to pull the branch off. It finally gives and I haul it off to my bicycle to strap on and transport (along with 5 other similar branches) back to my house to extend my shade hut for my growing number of compost piles.

In my mind, I can justify it all though. So listen before you judge me too much... You see, the thing is… I didn’t actually KILL the trees. I just cut off one lousy branch from each tree. I mean… you could look all around and see where people had cut off other limbs and new ones were already budding off. It’s an aggressive form of pruning really!

Now that I think about how great a wild undergrowth gardener I am, I might even go back in the next few days and do it again!… After all, I do need a fence for my garden to keep all those darn pigs out :-)

Saturday November 20th, 2010

Two scheduled compost lessons done… already THREE compost piles throughout Nauela (and that’s not even including the two at my house). Yep, that’s right! The first group (two area high school boys) I taught the other day came by this afternoon and informed me that they’d already gone over to a friend’s house and done another pile at their house. So exciting for me to see how energized they have gotten about it! Now I just hope that they maintain the piles and it helps their gardens. But I guess that’s my responsibility too with that whole Monitoring and Evaluation stuff we always talk about ;-)

Thursday November 25th, 2010

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone back at home (or wherever you all might be now you world travels)! I just wanted to take this moment to let you all know that I’ve been thinking about you all today and I’m definitely thankful for having you all in my life in some shape or form. I hope your holidays are starting off on the right foot… with some Thanksgiving day-stuffed bellies! :-)

***

While I was in Quelimane the other week I got the chance to catch up with Carmen for a bit (she used Google Voice and said it wasn’t that hard to set up, so no more excuses guys!) and she point-blank asked me if it was true that I was coming back to the States before medical school (turns out there’s been a rumor going around due to a certain sister’s facebookin’ postings :-P) …

Well, SURPRISE! I am!

Although the itinerary is still up in the air, this much we know for sure: the plane tickets are bought so Amanda and I are definitely coming to Florida and we’ll be splitting our time between places like Orlando/Gainesville/beach in late January-early February. A good chunk of the time will be spent with her family who is visiting from California and then another good chunk will surely be spent with my family, but we’ll try to swing by TUMC one Sunday and will probably have some time for dinner/lunch dates with close friends at places like Satchel’s :-)… Exciting, right?! I’ll keep you all updated!

***

Sunday October 10th, 2010

Amanda is visiting me this weekend and so far it’s been, mostly (I’ll explain a little later), great! It’s always nice and relaxing to spend down time in the company of someone you mesh so well with, even if you are just chilling around the house, trying to escape the sun’s intense rays… Just this weekend, in fact, Amanda and I were discussing a book which says that most (70%?) of a dating couple’s time together is spent doing activities (not true if you’re in the Peace Corps!), while a married couple generally spends that amount of their time together just chilling and talking. Maybe life as a PCV is just preparing us for the future :-)

As much as I love sitting back with Amanda and discussing a book, devotional, or passage in the Bible that one of us are reading, reflecting on today’s adventure, I believe that most of the time we choose to have a day inside simply because leaving the house can be soooo DIFFICULT! Although I sometimes feel a hint of laziness for slouching around the house the whole day, this afternoon it seemed that the powers that be just didn’t want Amanda and I to do anything… and while you can fight it at every turn (as we did!), it’ll probably just end up frustrating you all the more (once again, speaking from experience!)…

Regardless of what happens in the next day or so before Amanda goes back to Morrumbala, I confidently proclaim that today’s arduous (attempted) visit to Mehecane will forever stand out in my mind as the defining event of the long weekend.

Our afternoon bike ride started out pleasant and interesting while exploring the ruins of the old Catholic mission just outside Nauela. We poked our heads into the empty church (still in use, but in disrepair and missing much of its ceiling), then walked around an abandoned housing complex used by Portuguese missionaries back in the 50’s and 60’s. It’s crazy to imagine the house’s grandeur back in its heyday because there are still remnants of many things that aren’t readily available in the area even today (ie tiled bathrooms, running water, large glass windows, etc). Such is the norm in a country that is still recovering from 2 decades of war….

Leaving the ruins, things quickly took a turn for the wor... I mean… rough! And rather than just whirling around and calling it a good afternoon, my stubbornness kicked in and insisted we go on… even when my bike tire popped, even when we had to leave our bikes at a random drunk’s house and start walking, even when Amanda lost her belly button ring, and even when no locals knew the way to get to Mehecane via a (supposed) shortcut. Upon arriving at a lookout point 30 minutes later and realizing we had only made marginal progress as the sun dipped low in the sky, only THEN did I finally concede to turn around.

Oh Amanda … your patience with me!

***

FYI, in case you are ever in Mozambique and lose a belly button ring… and you don’t have anything else to keep the hole from closing up… you can make a temporary one out of stripped and sterilized electrical wire! You definitely should try it sometime… just ask Amanda :-)

***

Tuesday October 12th- Thursday October 14th, 2010

Joakim Pedro visited my house this morning arriving on the heels of Amanda leaving in order to make some last minute touches on the natural medicine training sessions before we kick them off tomorrow. Over the past few weeks, Joakim and I have written out the sessions’ bullet points on giant flipchart paper and discussed them to make sure we’re both on the same page. I have hopes that he will take over leading the sessions, speaking primarily in Lomwe, and I can play a minimal supportive role in the background… Setting up this supportive role from the beginning will be aided by the fact that I can’t attend the first day of the sessions due to scheduling conflicts. So let’s just hope for the best!

***

The first few days of Muretchele’s training have gone really well! Joakim has immediately taken the leadership role out from under me and I’m so excited to see how he’s just running with it! In my mind the training has been a HUGE success thus far. It’s a small, but committed!, group who aren’t coming because of handouts (per-diem and/or free food) and the training isn’t using many resources that don’t come directly from the community (the trainees bring all the pens, notebooks, pots, wood, spoons, and plants for the day’s session… only the markers and flip chart paper have been brought in by me...)

Check out some of the pictures below:

Saturday October 23rd, 2010

Lobolo: a traditional Mozambican ceremony where the bride-to-be is offered up to the groom and his family in exchange for various material goods. Maybe that definition oversimplifies the tradition and leaves out some of its cultural beauty, but essentially that is what it is: handing a woman over in return for various commodities.

Before judging it too harshly though, one must consider what is actually given: a ring for the bride-to-be, a new pair of clothes for her and her entire nuclear family, food and beverages for the reception afterwards, and a little bit of cash-money. And while I am no expert of marriage traditions in the West, I believe that we have similar (albeit not as strictly followed) traditions where the families’ are obliged to pay for some of these practical expenses surrounding a wedding (I found this website that talks about accepted wedding traditions in the UK for example). Once again, I’m not condoning the practice, but it’s not like the tradition is THAT different from some of our own!

And while someone might say that, “Well our society has outgrown those silly traditions…” I would reply that many Mozambicans have too, in fact. How do I know this? Because I was lucky enough to be invited by a fellow Peace Corps Volunteer, Luke, and his future (Mozambican) wife, Dinha, to their lobolo this weekend.

Sure, the Lobolo ceremony is still a stable in most of Mozambican society, but it fills the role of a theatrical performance recalling their cultural roots more than anything else. Awarding presents to the bride’s family allows everyone involved to sing, clap, and dance to old hymns reserved for just such an event. The bride’s family makes light of the handing over of money by constantly jabbing at the groom’s family for doing some fictitious intricacy incorrectly and subsequently charges them a small additional “multa”, or fee. And the ceremony is light-heartedly capped off by the presentation of a live, loudly bah-ing goat which in turn solicits a huge roar from the crowd.

Interestingly enough, the ceremony happens largely without the presence of the prospective bride or groom. Although planned from start to finish, it is acted out as if the whole event is a little random and spur of the moment. The groom’s family (in our case, made up completely of fellow PCVs because Luke’s family couldn’t come over for the occasion) arrives at the bride’s family’s house and states the purpose of our visit: to seek the hand of the daughter. The bride’s family invites us all in to the house to sit and “discuss” the matter where they pull out a list with their lobolo requirements. After the list is read over, our family goes through the list, revealing each item one by one.

At that point, the elders of the bride’s family go and send for Dinha, but ask us to help pay for the transportation cost of bringing her here (keep in mind she is actually in the next room over… again, little jabs!). We offer up 20 metacais (75 cents), but they prod us for more stating that she is “very” far away and “What do we expect? That we send a bike taxi for her?!” When Dinha finally arrives, she does so, her body masked by a capulana, accompanied by another hidden figure. The family then challenges us: if you really KNOW our daughter, surely you can pick her out of the two-person lineup. The choice is obvious: Dinha, with her full-figured body type, is the one to the left. That doesn’t stop everyone, however, from crying out when Denys (another PCV) correctly picks and the capulana is pulled back to reveal Dinha’s smiling face.

Now that Dinha is present at the ceremony, her family asks if she indeed knows this family and she responds that indeed she does. At this point the lobolo presents are doled out, starting with Dinha then working their way down from the eldest family members to the youngest. Between every gift there is a lull that is filled with singing and dancing. Everyone is happy and smiling, but none so much so as Dinha (not always the case for traditional Mozambican ceremonies where people are oftentimes very stoic)

Only at this point does anyone bother to seek the presence of the groom. “Where’s Luke?!” people start asking worriedly. Someone calls him up and he pretends to have been busy doing other things. He’s slow to show up, not wanting to seem too eager (I guess?!), but once he arrives, he thanks both families and presents a message from his actual family back in the States talking about how much they wish they could be there for the ceremony. It’s a touching moment that lasts for a second, but quickly gives way to the after party as people flood out of the house into the courtyard.

Food that (conveniently, for a “spur of the moment event”) has been obviously prepared in large quantities, well in advance pours out from kitchen into the courtyard. The mob is hungry, but the food is more than enough. We eat, dance, and party late into the night and even celebrate a second time as the clock strikes midnight and we celebrate Dinha’s birthday that just so happened to fall on the following day.

Learning about new traditions, food, and a birthday to boot… definitely a good day here in Mozambique :-)

Thursday October 28th, 2010

I’ve been stuck inside feeling sick all week ever since coming back from the Lobolo…. but all the while I’ve been healing my body and spirit by relaxing, reading, and praying about various books Amanda lent me. I spent most of my time wrapped in one book in particular, “A Voice in the Wind” by Francine Rivers. It falls in the genre of Christian fiction because it makes illustrations about the Bible and one’s faith through fictional characters placed in various historical settings.

The particular book mentioned above follows the story of a young woman named Hadassah who is struggling with the expression of her Christian faith during the downfall of the Roman Empire. And as of late, the way I express my faith is something that I also am regularly thinking and praying about… I’ve had a lot of good reflections this week about the book though and I hope that it’ll make me firmer and stronger from here on out.

Friday October 29th, 2010

I’ve been sick this whole week (diarrhea accompanied with general weakness, an aching back, shoulders, and neck… to the point where I’m stuck in the house most of the day)– not really sure of its cause, but it seems to always be worse when I’m at site. I’ve started thinking about all the possibilities and my first thoughts are Rogerio’s (and my) sanitation with food preparation and dish washing, over chlorinating the water, accidentally letting some of the ant poison dust touch the chlorine dropper, and general stress. Some of those concerns I can easily address, others are a little bit harder… (ie the stress bc I don’t FEEL too overstressed usually, but I know I am).

Luckily, I’ve been getting steadily better and that’s really good because this Saturday (tomorrow!) I have to start my long journey from Nauela to Namaacha via Nampula City and Maputo. The trip could technically be done in one day, but, because of the time of the flight and the fact that I can’t travel after dark, it’ll probably involve a hotel stay in BOTH Nampula and Maputo. It’s nice to break up the trip, but I also just wish I could GET there and not lollygag around…

Sunday October 31st, 2010 – Happy Halloween!

So I just got great news from my friends and family back home… Gators beat the Bulldogs on a clutch, game-ending field goal in OT! Even though the Gators are having a rough season this year (having lost 3 in a row) they still have beaten their 2 biggest rivals thus far (UGA and UT) and definitely still have a chance to make it to SEC championship… I’m stoked!

Ok, ok… so many of you probably already knew all that, but I just had to give a shout out to my home team… especially when they have been struggling so much this season…

The captions will be coming later, as for now, just enjoy the sights :)

Monday September 20th, 2010

Mariana, my new FGH counterpart, and I spent most of the morning meeting with the Muretchele leaders trying to hash out some new goals/objectives for the group because of last week’s fiasco. Quick flash back: Renato, the new FGH district coordinator, came to Nauela and asked Muretchele’s president what the group’s main purpose was and, nearly 4 months after Rocha, my old FGH counterpart, formed the group, the president was unable to even string together a few coherent thoughts about the group’s purpose. GAH! Needless to say, the meeting today was a bear, with us all looking the part… staring at one another exasperated and wondering what the heck we’d gotten ourselves into. That said, the cake probably goes to Mariana when, after a painfully slow and only marginally productive meeting, she discovered that no active member of the PLWHA group was actually living with HIV/AIDS… Oooooh Rocha, the legacy you leave me behind with… I definitely gotta get away for a bit… Road trip anyone?!

Tuesday September 21st, 2010

After 9 months at site with at least a few minutes spent every day staring that huge hunk of rock in the distance, I decided last night that today would finally be THE DAY! Indeed, I resolved to do the impossible: climb the legendary, the perilous, the spirit-filled Mount Nepo. Okay… So maybe it’s NOT the impossible… maybe it’s actually something that some area farmers actually do on weekly, if not daily basis… but still! It’s something that my Mozambican neighbors were surprised I could do… and for that I’m feeling pretty froggy!

Here are some pictures and comments from the epic bike/hike….

The sun rising over the valley well into my journey... I had to leave really early to avoid the midday sun

Morning fog still hovering over Nauela before the rising sun comes and burns it off.

My trusty Hero bike in the foreground with Mount Nepo in the background...

On my way to climb the mountain, an area farmer well in to his morning's work of harvesting beans

I was drawn to a stop by these two roosters facing off over mating territory

Mount Nepo near the base in Vehiua

Mid way up the mountain, looking back at Nauela, the Catholic mission, Mehecane, and Eleve

My first glimpse EVER of the view on the North side of the mountain! YAY!

A lone dead tree seemingly floating in the clouds with the even-more-distant mountain of the Nampula province haunting the background...

A quick first glance across the top of Mount Nepo

All smiles once the hard work is done and a snack is in the belly, right?!

Even though we're technically entering spring/summer over here, many of the trees have been changing colors as if it were mid fall :-)

A pano of the top of Mount Nepo facing the unknown North... Always more to explore here :-)

Wednesday September 22nd - Sunday September 27th, 2010

My Dad is scheduled to have open heart surgery today and that’s reason enough for me to get out of Nauela to go somewhere with better cell phone service (not to mention the stressful meetings with the local associations!). So with that in mind I organize things with Amanda and we meet up in Quelimane to rest, relax, and do some shopping during the long weekend, but most importantly, just be there for one another.

After a long, taxing day of traveling to Quelimane, I get a call from the States in the late evening and my stomach turns. My sister is on the other end… What if? What if?! No… my sister calms my nerves telling me that the surgery went as expected and my dad will be moved into intensive care in the next few hours. If everything goes as planned, he’ll be out of the hospital and back at home in a few days then mostly homebound for 4-6 weeks. I say “home”, but really Dad is going to stay at Uncle Mike’s house for most of the time to try and enjoy the peacefulness of not being around the loud mouth - Mr. You Know Who! Stepping up to the plate as usual, I find out that Mom has volunteered to move back into Dad’s house to help take care of Billy :-) I love my family!

The time in Quelimane is a blur of running around meeting up with other PCVs, going to the beach, and shopping our brains out. Sure there was a little bit of clothes shopping, but most of it was stocking up on food that you can’t get anywhere but the big cities (i.e. apples, honey, peanut butter, oats). One special stop this time was Amanda and I buying paint: Me, for my house back in Nauela, and Amanda, to redecorate the Save The Children guest house in Quelimane.

I’m so excited to have some colors in my life in Nauela… white walls get old QUICK… I’ll let you know how those personal projects go!

*As of October 1st I’ve officially spent 1 year in Mozambique!!!*

Friday October 1st – Sunday October 3rd, 2010

Sadly, sometimes when it rains, it pours…

I’m traveling up to Nampula for a Peace Corps-sponsored English Theater competition on Saturday (Amanda has a group that is competing) when I get a text telling me how Dad’s house was just broken into last night. Billy’s digital camcorder and Wii/games are missing. Also stolen are two laptop computers (including my Mom’s, which was only there because she is staying at my Dad’s helping out with Billy while my Dad recovers from his open-heart surgery) along with DVDs and other small electronics… It’s really depressing that people would do things like this… and at such inopportune times nonetheless! Please be praying for and supporting my family, especially my dad, as they are having to deal with all these obstacles… At times like these I feel like I’m definitely too far away from home :-(

At any rate, the competition and the weekend in general are HUGE successes! I was really impressed by the groups’ performances as a whole. It’s crazy when you sit back and remind yourself that these young kids are effectively communicating all their thoughts and feelings while acting out this play in a foreign language! Although Amanda’s group didn’t place in the top 3, one of Amanda’s students (a 10 year old nonetheless) won the award for best female actress.

Unfortunately, the trip was marred by the kids’ Saturday late night antics when, after the competition, many students from various groups snuck away to go joy riding in one of our privately-rented chapas. (Cursed, sketchy chapa driver who let them come along!) Besides the absolute youngest of the groups, almost everyone had a hand in the matter, sadly all the way up the ladder to the Mozambican counterparts/chaperones. After participating in a competition titled “Be the Change!”, how ironic that rumors of drinking and sexual promiscuity circulated about the groups in the end.

Maybe we, the PCVs, are the ones to blame though. For either being too naïve to be playing with the younger kids while the older kids are plotting ways to escape, or for setting a bad example for the group by sitting around and drinking casually ourselves. I couldn’t help but scoff inwardly as PCVs reprimanded some of the older kids (some upwards of 18-21, BTW drinking age is 18 in Mozambique) for running off and getting cheaper booze when the PCVs weren’t setting a good example to begin with.

After a long night of worry and fret, I found myself lying restless on my bed, staring up at the ceiling and couldn’t help but reflect back on the climatic end of Amanda’s group’s play: “The change starts with YOU!”… And as it so turns out, with US too!

Monday October 4th, 2010

I wake up and, “Surprise!”, today is another Mozambican holiday… Technically, the “Day of Peace” commemorates the day Mozambique’s civil war ended, but I choose to make my own interpretation of the holiday as a national recognition of our work here with the PEACE corps ;-)

Trying to think about how I could best reward myself for a job well done I choose to celebrate by painting the inside of my house. The long day of painting finally ends around sunset not because the house is done, but sadly rather because I was a little too conservative in my estimates and need to get more paint…. But it looks great so far!

Rogerio and I painting the accent wall in my bathroom

One view of my orange/green living room and hallway

Another shot of the living room/hallway

Like my Orange and Blue Gator Bedroom?! Not quite Gator colors, but close enough, right?! Also, like the SWEET African bedspread?

My ever improving bathroom... not pictured is the new solar shower (hot running water... sort of...) courtesy of Amanda's godmother. Thank you!

Wednesday October 6th, 2010 - Burn baby! Burn!

The dry season is coming to an end and people are revvin’ their engines while getting ready for the start of planting season. In order to facilitate manually digging the field’s rows, they prepare the area by burning any left over organic refuse from last season’s crop. The upside is that it only requires a match and some wind to clear a whole field (people are always looking for the easy way out), but it is obviously a slippery slope because the fires oftentimes get out of control and burn other fields, homes, stores and/or churches. Also, while burning the remains of last season’s crops leaves behind some of the plant’s nutrients to benefit the soil, it robs the soil of other nutrients by throwing away most of the carbon element.

Sadly, this whole month Nauela’s visibility has been way down… I mean, to the point where you can hardly make out even the closest mountains in the distance! I’m told this is partly due to the change of seasons (it’s getting hotter and thus creating some fog/smoke), but mostly the result of the sky being filled with smoke and ash from the ever present, surrounding fires. Although the night time rings of fire on neighboring mountains and the burnt brown glow of the moon are incredible sights, the smell of smoke is always in the air and I’d trade those sights in a second for a crisp, clean breath every once in a while!

Regardless, I resolved to brave the smoke-filled air this morning and make the trek all the way out to Mehecane to meet with Pastor Vicente in order to check up on their carpentry project. Upon setting my eyes upon him, I knew that something was wrong. As soon as we sat down, everything that had happened since my last visit came pouring out of his mouth. Turns out the church treasurer and leaders had finally run the numbers themselves on the project and realized for themselves what I’d been telling them all along: that they are currently losing money on their slapstick business attempt to help OVCs in the area. Although I had informed them of this long ago while analyzing each piece they made, they weren’t able to clearly understand it until their initial lumber supply ran out and the carpenters were demanding their 2 month’s pay… At that point the numbers were easy to figure and the losses were staring them right back in their faces. Those losses were so demoralizing and jolting that they immediately halted the project, sent the carpenters packing, and even considered abandoning the project altogether.

Upon my arrival, Pastor Vicente, ready to cut the church’s losses, had already started pondering other possible projects. I listened to his story and new ideas biting my lip not to jump in too quickly. Biding my time and letting him get it all of his chest must have been therapeutic in some way because he soon calmed down and grew silent. It wasn’t until that point that I started in and reasoned that the project IS sustainable, just that they need to improve their business practices. I further encouraged them insisting that it probably was for the best that they sent the carpenters home because now we can try and find the best deal on bulk lumber without having to worry about keeping the carpenters busy.

Towards the end of our meeting, a planned a meeting for this Saturday morning with both the church treasurer, to demonstrate to him how he too can calculate the profit on the project piece by piece, and the head carpenter, to show him that we’ll only be able to hire them back paying a salary based on the amount of wood pieces they produce, rather than on how many days they work.

As the conversation finally wound down, business turned into small chat and we ended up talking at length about the water system the previous missionary had set up in Mehecane and how the church has worked hard to maintain it. Which sent my mind wandering… as the dry season is reaching its end, certain water pumps across Zambezia are drying up while still others are breaking down, making certain areas very stretched for water. Thankfully, the well I use is very deep and well maintained (Wiado, my next door neighbor, is the area well mechanic) thus it’s still pouring out clean drinking water.

Unfortunately, I can’t say the same, however, for Amanda’s neighborhood in Morrumbala. The story we’ve been getting is that one of the main pumps for the city has broken down and due to various reasons, the government has been unable to fix it and likely won’t be able to in the near future. In the meantime, people most go to the neighboring communities and wait in overcrowded lines only then to have to carry hundreds of pounds of water back home. Needless to say, everyone is feeling pretty stressed because they are quite strapped for water and time. Be praying for the people in Morrumbala!

Thursday October 7th, 2010

This week is all about getting ready for natural medicine training next week with Muretchele. Every day it seems someone is at my house talking about the logistics of it or helping prepare the lessons by writing out notes on flip chart paper. As a general rule, I won’t tell them exactly what they need to include and I definitely won’t do the writing myself. In fact, they will have to present the material alone with me sporadically popping in just making sure they don’t convey any misinformation. We’ll see how it goes!

As mentioned before, my new FGH counterpart has already told me how disappointed she is with the “PLWHA” group because it doesn’t have almost any people who are actually living with HIV/AIDS… The fact that the group is also relatively weak in attendance and participation during meetings doesn’t help either… but such is the life in rural locals… most locals have very little education and have to work their butts off doing physical labor starting at 3 or 4am just to feed their families. With all due respect, I honestly feel that expecting well-educated, outspoken individuals to show up in masses for unpaid, philanthropic work in a rural Mozambique is just setting oneself up for disappointment.

Saturday October 9th, 2010

Three times in the past month and a half I’ve met with a group of church women in Mehecane to do Art Therapy with a local group of OVCs to encourage fun, creativity, and conversation. One of the essential parts of the Art Therapy is that all of the materials used are found locally. The cornerstone of the art project uses locally found clay (that women typically make cooking pots out of) and other leaves/twigs/rocks/flowers/whatever else we can scrounge up. Although the art sessions aren’t giving the kids food to eat, funds to pay for their educational supplies, or a skill that most could help support themselves with down the road (albeit maybe some of the kids will start being able to make clay pots to sell later on), I believe that the sessions are teaching them to be creative, have fun, support one another and, best of all, bringing the OVCs into an active church program that is equipped and interested to continuing to help them long after the Art Therapy sessions end.

Below are some select pictures from two of the Art Therapy sessions:

Two of the church mother's who are leading the group washing their hands before the session starts.

We make everyone a name tag, then go around and shake everyone's hand greeting everyone by name to make everyone feel special and recognized

Even the little one's love shaking hands!

First activity: Make "your ball" *Note the next several photos are of the kids participating in this activity...*

One kid showing off what he's made *Note the next several photos are of the kids showing what they've made today...*

P.S.- On the way back from Mehecane I came across a bunch of students doing the front end work of making bricks (i.e. before you burn them). Below are the pics... And also, some people emailed me asking how Wiado's house is coming along. Well, FYI, his family has gotten the cement and sand to build, but are still waiting on neighbors to come and help repair the house...

First you need to dig a big hole in the mud and pour water to get it to be the right consistency.

Then you need to pack into into a form.

Then you need to take the form to a dry place where you can lay them out in lines so they are easy to count/keep track of.

Then you need to set them out in the sun to dry for 3 or 4 days, rotating them 90 degrees everyday....

ONLY THEN do you get to stack them up and burn them as Wiado and his family was doing in the last blog post.

***

Hey everyone!

I just wanted to tell all you back at home who are trying to call me that you should look into trying to use Google Voice. I’ve heard from other PCVs that the program is very similar to Skype but costs only ~13 cents a minute to call Mozambique (as opposed to Skype’s 40 per minute rate). I hope this helps! I really appreciate all your support…

***

Wednesday September 1st, 2010 – 11 months in Mozambique!

Reclining back at Mocuba’s chapa-stop bar with smoke streaming from the corner of his mouth, the worn down man across the table glances at me for a moment before taking another deep drag from his quickly disappearing cigarette. My mind drifts... I can’t help but think about how I’ve never really liked the smell of cigarette smoke… I hate it actually! (A childhood obsession, I guess, that has persisted until today rooted in numerous bad experiences while frequenting a friend’s house whose parents were chain smokers.) I resolve to stick it out at the bar though, not because of the ambiance or cheap drinks (they weren’t that cheap and I don’t drink anyways), but rather because it’s a damn interesting story that he’s been telling me and it hits home with everything I’ve been doing back at site.

To make a long story short, Sam is a trafficker… of what? A) Bodies B)Drugs or C)Other. Have your guess…

After making mine and then getting into an extended conversation with the laid-back, English speaking middle-age Mozambican, turns out the answer is usually logs, but on any given day the answer could be any number of things including being an unlicensed chapa driver (which, I guess, is technically bodies!).

In a country where any job opportunity is coveted, Sam is special and sought out because he has a truck… quite a hot commodity in this country. On a normal day, Sam helps clearing plots of land for farmers by hauling away logs and then selling them to lumber yards for a profit. Sounds honest and helpful enough, right? WRONG! Sam and his brother are just two of Mozambique’s many under-the-table small business workers/owners. Although these interactions are commonplace and arguably necessary for Mozambican society to function the way it does, all money earned is done so illegally because they don’t have a permit and don’t pay taxes.

The existence of permits and red-tape affects so many things in Mozambique, even in the administrative post of Nauela. In Mehecane, for example, the União Baptista church is trying to legally, with permits, start a carpentry project to benefit the entire community, specifically local Orphans and Vulnerable Children (OVCs). But the church is really struggling to be competitive with the surrounding makeshift carpenters because the church’s supplies cost more than those who go illegally into the bush and just chop down trees willy-nilly.

At a higher level, the legal issue also affects things in Morrumbala with the large-scale wood-cutting missionaries, Jim and Eileen, and on an international scale with China’s insatiable desire for cheap wood. How quickly one can get a permit, how much trafficking the permits allow, how much the penalties are for breaking the rules, etc. are all issues that everyone is dealing with now.

Talking about all the problems that are going on in Mozambique regarding this, Sam agrees that it’s one big mess. He was born in Mozambique buy refuses to call himself Mozambican. When hard pressed, he slyly asserts that he’s from “Earth”. He even goes as far to describe why he “hates” Mozambique… because, in his mind, the only way to make a living in this country is do so illegally. Ouch! Going on, he insists that even if you try to bust your butt and go through all the legal hoops, there is always some greedy politician in the end demanding his cut of the profits.

Is his case totally valid? Definitely not. To say that “it is just not possible” is probably more cynicism and laziness than anything else. But does he have a leg to stand on? Definitely so. Case in point: the publicized financial battle between cell phone carriers Vodacom vs Mcel. The foreign-owned Vodacom had to pay about $15 million USD upfront just to get permission to enter the market as a competitor to the governmentally owned Mcel… and who knows how much since then... one wonders, if Vodacom is still making a profit, how much money are the Mcel owners making?!

Although one might say… “Give em’ a break!” or on the other hand “Why don’t they just get a permit then?...” It’s a tricky situation! Indeed, getting permits requires extra start up money that a lot of people don’t have and/or red-tape that some people would struggle to navigate. Thus, strict enforcement of the regulations would keep a lot of small businesses from ever starting up. Meanwhile, if the government doesn’t implement some sort of regulatory system over these small businesses they are running a risk of being negligent of preventing some disaster in the future (ie- car hijacking, traffic accidents, severe deforestation, etc). Albeit they are currently understaffed to properly regulate ALL the informal businesses…

So what to do?... what to do? Well… what do you think?!

Friday September 3rd, 2010

It doesn’t take a genius to discover that “É normal” in Portuguese literally translates to mean “that’s normal”. Funny thing though is that more often than not the saying is used in a negative context here in Nauela. Something bad happens, or doesn’t happen at all, and pretty soon you’re ears are ringing with that response. Language norms are always an interesting insight into cultural attitudes – although there are definitely a variety of opinions out there, I’d say that a lot of people in Nauela, especially from the older generations, are pretty cynical and fatalistic.

***

Gender struggles…

So… my early assessment is that the push to recruit female head coaches, and subsequently female athletes, for the Lurdes Mutola Foundation’s soccer program has largely been a FAILURE! :-( Four months after the initial training by the foundation, only 1 female coach is still actively coming to our monthly coaches meetings and even she has relinquished most of her coaching responsibilities to a local male counterpart because the young male players (the female players aren’t being allowed to come out/ just aren’t coming out) won’t listen to her. As for the other 3? No one seems to exactly know what they did with the balls and…. the women themselves have sort of vanished… humm!?!

That’s not to say there haven’t been small steps in the process though. Although many people/families are refusing to let their children, especially the young girls, play, several areas with male coaches have female or coed teams that regularly meet and play.

There are a lot of issues at hand… the traditional division of labor resulting in girls being expected to be very accomplished at domestic work, girls having a perceived risk of being taken advantage of sexuality by unknown male adults, girls not having/not being permitted to wear the proper sports attire (shorts, bra, shoes, etc), the list goes on and on…

As a male, I find myself in a unique position to help battle as an ally for gender equality here in Nauela by speaking to the other male leaders, but it’s definitely a process. Traditional beliefs, held by both genders, and educational gaps don’t go away over night. Indeed, even when working with the new generation of females, I know that no matter how hard I push them, their reality is very different than mine and I’m just a small instant in their lives. Their decisions that I influence will have lasting impacts on their lives that will likely reach far beyond my short stay here (ie - family and community support, educational opportunities, marriage prospects, etc), while what I do or say has very little risk on those areas for me. So I need to be sensitive to that and not make someone act in such a rebellious way that would push them too far outside societal norms for fear of ostracism.

As I mentioned in my last blog post, I was in Mulevala a few weeks ago for the natural medicine training (***Side note – I just updated my last blog post with pictures at the end if you wanna go back and check it out) alongside 7 other female PCVs. Although I never thought about it till then, it took me coming to a rural village in the middle of Africa to finally find myself the noticeable minority! (Even though I am the only white person in Nauela, it’s not too noticeable because people generally treat me better because of it…) To say the least, it was a rough, eye opening time. Although I definitely enjoyed the week as a whole, sometimes I felt ganged up on, left out, and rather marginalized… and this was all from interactions with friends nonetheless! (Before I go on, I want to make sure that you understand that a lot of it wasn’t intentional or even centered on my gender, but gender was always a factor and the experience was eye opening none the less.) In a world that is largely run by men, is this how women always feel? I hope not!... but I have a creeping feeling it sadly just might be...

As I discovered, gender norms can be a sensitive subject because it can quickly become an “Us” versus “Them” discussion/debate with everyone jumping on the defense for their own “side.” Trying to remove myself from my “side,” I like to say that when interacting with people around me I don’t see “male” or “female”, “black”, “white”, or “Hispanic”… I just see that person for who they are. But I’ve come to realize that point of view in itself is a little elitist. I’m unaware of those things because I’m typically put in situations where I am in the majority seat and don’t have to be aware/suspicious of the little nuances that occur from day to day. I need to start realizing that this isn’t the case for everyone and do something about it!

So where does these realizations and new mindset take me? I’m still exploring that. I know that I can’t just continue on as before as if I learned nothing, but I also don’t believe I should try to dissect and analyze every social situation based on gender, race, sexual orientation, etc… for me, I think that’d make me too worried, uptight, and not as loving… so maybe somewhere in between :/ Luckily, I’ve made a lot of great PC friends here in Mozambique who have been/are willing to talk to me about all this and I’m really grateful for their patience and love :-)

Thinking back on how this all plays out in a Mozambican setting like Nauela, it’s very apparent there’s a lot of progress yet to be made. I have hopes that the area residents will expand their traditionally narrow views on gender roles in the years to come. While the governmental institutions are already paying gender equality homage with their mouths... maybe someday in the near future people will start doing it with their actions.

Below are some pictures from this month’s meeting with the coaches from the Lurdes Mutola Foundation:

José Henriques, one of the active coaches in the area of Niharipa taking a break from the discussion to pose for the camera.

Fernando Jamal, the leader of the coaches of the Lurdes Mutola Foundation in Nauela, discussing some of the groups difficulties thus far

Orlando Francisco, another coach from Vehiua, with attitude that Tyra would even love ;-)

Not all moments are easy when trying to organize the different teams to play against one another. Here is our co-leader Isac Marrengula, a coach in Guilherme, trying to take a moment….

Professor Macua, the only Nauela coach who was trained last year by the foundation in Moloque, giving his time-tested opinions

The last remaining active female coach in the administrative post of Nauela, sometimes Martência Paulo can feel a little excluded from the discussion topics.

A nice composite of head shots of some of the active coaches in Nauela

A group shot of the Lurdes Mutola coaches from one of the previous month’s meetings

Martência and Fernando serving up a post-meeting pot-luck style lunch for the coaches who live far away…

Everyone lickin’ their chops to get their hands on the food!

Martência serving up the rice and beans

Tuesday September 7th, 2010

Holidays alone are always tough! Especially so when in Mozambique! First, Monday was the U.S.’s Labor Day where I constantly found myself stuck imagining friends and family back home setting up camp on a nice Florida beach. “Can’t get any worse!”I remember thinking… Then, here comes today, which turns out to be Mozambique’s Commemoration of the Lusaka Accords (the peace agreements between Mozambique and Portugal after the war for independence), and I feel even more alone because I’m the one in town who is not spending the free day with friends/family.

Caveat: A lot of people in Nauela can’t really spend the holiday relaxing… instead they get the whole family together and work on some project… like brick making for their house! Here’s a few photos of Wiado and his family as they spent the Mozambican holiday:

Olympio loading up the pile of bricks with wood to burn.

Once the wood has caught fire and there is enough inside, they will cover up this whole and let the bricks burn for 3 days

Salimo taking a break from his “work” with the bricks and looking pretty smug about the photo opp

Wiado helping out with the wood stuffing process

The guys stepping back from a job well done. Now all that’s left is to wait, stuff a little more, then cover it all up.

A look at their run down house that they’ll be hoping to repair with the 800 or so bricks they are burning.

***

I REALLY wish I could leave site to be with my PC friends… but I can’t because of standfast, a temporary no travel period mandated by PC. The whole standfast ordeal was prompted because of protests last week in Maputo that killed several and left hundreds more injured. So I definitely understand the logic behind it all and I guess I see the danger… clearly there is a potential for things to get ugly in the big cities and no one, especially Peace Corps, wants the responsibility of that… but sometimes I feel like Maputo is a WORLD away from Nauela/Zambezia and there is no risk here…

But then things happen…

Like what just happened in Lesotho with former UF student/PCV Tom Maresco being killed and it’s a smack in the face screaming “Be as cautious as possible! This world can be dangerous!” (Or maybe that was just take home message of my parents/family/friends barraging me with texts messages saying the like…) Seriously though, for all you out there reading this, please keep Tom and his family in your thoughts/prayers… but try not to worry too much about me!

***

Last night was full of dreams from both ends of the spectrum, but all surrounding 1 thing: Amanda being able to come and visit me. Is it not enough that my cell phone batter is dying and I can only be able to talk with friends and family for a little bit? Must it also be unsafe to leave site and to have someone visit me? It’s not so much that that stuff isn’t happening, it’s that that stuff can’t happen. An island fever of sorts. I hate feeling caged up! The knowledge of simply being able to move around would be enough.

To exacerbate things even more, I quickly got into a funk today because I thought I was going to pick up my solar panel this morning only to find out that because of the holiday weekend, the Nauela shop owner won’t be able to buy it till tomorrow and then deliver it to me tomorrow afternoon (probably too late to even have energy tomorrow night). I know I’ve gone 9 months with limited or no energy… but still!

Oh well… Patience… learn it, love it!

At any rate, I gotta realize that having energy isn’t going to make everything good all of a sudden. In all honesty, the root of the problems is that I am lonely. Even when I’m surrounded by people I rarely feel connected to them in Nauela. The relationship between men and women in Nauela/Mozambique is almost never thought to be purely plutonic… So I have to be cautious of those friendships even with girls as young as 13 or 14 because of community perceptions… pretty sick, right? And generally speaking I don’t connect with a lot of the men because their ambitions, view on the world, what they are looking to get from me is oftentimes not in line with me and my ways.

It’s sad... really… to think about my friends at site and how some of my best one’s are the people that HAVE to interact with me (ie - my neighbors, the breadmaker, my house helper, the owners of my house, the hospital workers, people in the various organizations/associations I work with, etc). In fact, I can’t really think of any adults (young or old) who have sought me out just to hang out with me. Maybe there are a few who just want to learn something as innocent as English or chess, but they still want something! Granted this constant yearning to milk something out of me has a lot to do with the fact that everyone is living by the skin of their teeth and have families to take care of… but still! It’s upsetting/a downer.

Below are some photos of the small chess club I’ve started up:

Rogerio, my rapaz, in the white shirt participating in my informal chess club

Big decisions… Seriously though! Problem solving, planning ahead, and strategy are difficult concepts for the kids.

Wednesday September 8th, 2010

Well, I am still feeling depressed/down, but I’m working my way through it by praying and reading some poetry:

Poem by Hafiz from the book “The Gift”

translations by Daniel Ladinsky - pg 143

“When You Can Endure”

When

The words stop

And you can endure the silence

That reveals your heart’s

Pain

Of emptiness

Or that great wrenching-sweet longing,

That is the time to try and listen

To what the Beloved’s

Eyes

Most want

To

Say.

So what DOES the Beloved’s eyes most want to say to me here and now? Maybe I gotta endure some more silence ;-) Don’t worry… I’m sure they’ll be PLENTY more where that came from! So, we’ll definitely see… listen up Michael!

Thursday September 9th, 2010

TRIUMPH! VICTORY! After days/weeks/months that all seemed like millennia, I finally got my solar panel this morning! And remember how I said that it wouldn’t solve all my problems?! Well, it doesn’t. BUT it sure does feel good right now at least!

So here is how it all broke down: I woke up early (anticipating good news) and heard from Wiado that Nunes, the shop owner, had arrived back in Nauela late last night. SCORE! Jumping on my now decrepit bike with deflated tires, I tried to make it to the market, but had to stop and ask someone along the way for a pump because my bike was… struggling! When I finally make it there, I didn’t have a good plan as to how I was going to get the panel back home so I just improvised and decided to carry the solar panel back in one hand while navigating the bumpy, dirt, mountainous road with one hand gripped tight to the handle bars. Good plan right?! Not so much?! Well… at least it worked!

Running into my house, I jerry-rigged the solar panel set up, but had to run because I had already arranged with the church in Mehecane to train a group of women in art therapy to later teach the area OVCs… but not before leaving the solar panel charging my battery! Thinking about my new regular supply of energy and loving what I was doing, I had a great morning teaching the group of 4 older women. It went really well and we even agreed to meet next Saturday to teach kids! Yay! Can things get any better?!

Sadly… I got back home in the late afternoon after the sun was well on its way to setting and discovered the solar panel cables had been hooked up incorrectly and didn’t charge the battery :( As an awesome consolation prize, the standfast has been lifted so Amanda is coming tomorrow afternoon! So hopefully I’ll have all the kinks worked out for her arrival :-)

Later that same evening, I am finishing up dinner, listening to the BBC World Service, when all of a sudden I hear Gainesville, Florida mentioned in passing. I had tuned out the broadcaster until this point, but immediately gained a renewed interest in his droning ons. Turns out this radical pastor in Gainesville was trying to burn the Qur'an to commemorate 9/11. This is the SAME pastor whose congregation had posted a sign stating that “Islam is of the Devil” on their church property and even went so far as to send several children to public school wearing t-shirts saying the like. The kids were forced to change shirts and the commotion surrounding the sign (after being defaced a number of times) eventually calmed and the small church fell out of the news… until now!

Listening on, I find out that the pastor’s proposed actions have already been denounced by General Patreus and President Obama (to name a few)… Gosh! I hope that this is not what Gainesville, my hometown, becomes remembered for! We are such a loving, accepting community… it’d be a shame if everyone got that opinion from the actions of a small minority of people….

**Side note – I heard later from a number of people that the pastor didn’t end up burning the Qur'an… Whew!

Tuesday September 14th, 2010

Amanda just left and I’ve been trying to not be too sad by keeping my mind occupied cleaning up around the house… but that’s just not working… so, instead, I’m just going to write out some of my thoughts and see how that goes!

In short, we had a really good time! Which, GAH!, makes the goodbyes that much harder. One gaffe right off the bat (which turned out to be fine in the end) happened when we woke up a little too late to go visit the HUGE Saturday market in Carmano… turns out 6am is too late and thus missed the main transport from Nauela to the market and subsequently ended up spending the morning in Mugema before heading back to Nauela with our tails tucked between our legs after the morning’s weather turned out to be far too cold and rainy. That was ok though! It was a really nice day just lounging around the house and cooking and then later walking around Nauela when the weather got better.

Maybe that first day set the tone for the rest of Amanda’s visit, because most of the days were pretty chill :-) Once, we walked all the way to the market (a 3 or 4 hour adventure mind you!), but most of our time was spent playing chess, watching Modern Family on my laptop (because the new solar panel system is working well now! YES!), cooking, exploring and appreciating Nauela’s natural beauty, and just talking/relaxing… Good times that definitely help recharge the ol’ batteries!

On Amanda’s last full day at site, Renato and Mariana, both new employees for FGH in Alto Moloque, visited Nauela. Renato is the new district coordinator and Mariana is replacing Rocha as my new counterpart. They wanted to see a little of what I do in Nauela so we hopped in a car and I led them to Mehecane to meet Pastor Vicente and then we later met with the President of Muretchele at the hospital. We had a heart to heart conversation about a lot of my frustrations with working with FGH and they seemed pretty open and excited to work with me/support me. I’m REALLY glad I get to start new with FGH! Although I already have my hands full with my own projects now… Hopefully things will go smoothly :-)

Wednesday September 15th, 2010

I made the long bike trek to Mehecane this morning for the monthly pastoral meeting to meet with the higher-ups and discuss their carpentry project. (BTW… it’s getting hot again… not even 8:30am and I was sweating through my shirt!) Finally there though. All good! Oooor not. Unfortunately, when I show up things are busy… pastors are in high demand by visitors and the pastor specifically in charge of project hasn’t even showed up yet :-/

I end up getting a few minutes with Pastor Vicente, but things were… rough! He earnestly explained to me how all the project needed was a little more money to buy motorized equipment and I had to kindly disagree with him, insisting that they had to improve the way they are working right now before trying to really speed up the process. Let me explain: right now, with every piece of furniture they make, they are actually losing money and having a hard time even selling those products to boot… although buying machinery might save some money in production cost, it would also magnify the current problems. In my humble opinion (seriously! my business background is… zilch!), they need to work on their foundations (finding a cheap, dependable supply of wood and carpenters who will work for a reasonable rate) before trying ramp up the production.

Despite this rough conversation, Pastor Vicente took it all in stride and grudging agreed with me… I guess he saw that I wasn’t budging and he was in a hurry to attend to other people’s business. But that didn’t keep him from posing for a few pictures before we wrapped up for the day ;-) I also took the liberty of snapping a few shots of the actual carpentry project at work.

Check ‘em out below:

A rare rest for Pastor Vicente’s infamous bucket hat that keeps his balding scalp from burning in the unrelenting African sun :-)

A hymn book in Lomwe/Portuguese and other loose papers in the pastoral office

Skilled, weathered hands in the making of a chair back…

Plaining a board the old fashion way

Oops! Letting the tool slip and getting a little too close to the camera for comfort!

Still not perfect…..

Slow but steady sawing… it’s therapeutic!

Doesn’t fit quite right… take it apart and try again!

It may not look like much, but this is our carpentry… and will a lot of work and a little luck it’ll make a world of difference the community: making doors, windows, and chairs for the general population, teaching OVCs a skill, and making money to help fund other programs for the OVCs and give them school supplies! YAY!

The man behind the magic: Pastor Vicente!

Despite the first, more serious photo, Pastor Vicente is always smiling and laughing

Smiling and laughing… or drinking coffee!

Wednesday August 18th, 2010 – Mulevala

I am sitting at a solid wooden table overlooking a vast expanse of undisturbed forest covering rolling hills. No, I’m not in Nauela. This week I’ve brought a counterpart from the PLWHA group in Nauela, Joakim Pedro, to a training in Mulevala in the neighboring district of Ile. Mulevala is an administrative post like Nauela, but is located on a much less used road. So even though it is more condensed and developed than Nauela, it seems much more rural, remote, and calm.

But if it’s so rural, why is Mulevala so developed anyways? I haven’t gotten a straight answer yet. During colonial times it was probably largely due to the area’s agriculture production. Recently, however, it may be due to the impact of nearby mines in Gile that bring an influx of traffic and income to the area. Unlike Nauela, there is no place in Mulevala to get cell phone service. Indeed, one must drive/walk 7 kilometers out of town to a large tree and climb up to get service. “How did someone find out about this to begin with?”, you might ask. Who knows?!

To give you some more insight as to “Why Mulevala…?”, well the site is actually the home of Denys, a Moz 13 PCV. Denys is about to complete her second year of service here in Mozambique, but is planning to extend her service for 1 extra year in Mocuba (the second largest city in the province, located a little SW of Mulevala). Like me, Denys was also paired up with FGH, but as it turns out there’s even less FGH presence here than in Nauela because FGH literally never visits! They sent her here 2 years ago with the plan to extend their services here, but that plan never materialized and she was stuck her alone. A few months into her service they offered to move her elsewhere, but no one really wants to move sites right after having just made their house a home…

I say Denys was stuck here alone, but that’s not really true. The reason we are actually here this week is not to be with Denys, but rather Monica (also called Monschi), an Austrian missionary/nurse here through Christian Services International. Always a wanderer, Monschi has a pretty interesting story that has led her to visit some 40+ countries while serving others. Over the past 5 years that she’s been in Mozambique, Monschi has created a pretty baller house by rural Mozambique standards (electricity, running water, CB radio, high ceilings, etc) and pretty elaborate, well-developed projects. Her 3 main ones being: HIV/AIDS, Malnourished Children, and Natural Medicine. We, Joakim and I, along with 4 other PCVS and their counterparts, are here to learn about the latter: natural medicine readily available in the tropics.

The natural medicine group that Monica works with here in Mulevala was trained on an individual basis by a larger organization called ANAMED, Action for Natural Medince – www.anamed.net, and has since grown to include 7 people. The association has an official link w the church with the belief that God created the earth, plants, animals, and people to support one another. They have several fields where they grow 20+ different types of herbal plants including Moringa, Artemisia, Lemon Grass, Hot peppers, Aloe, Guava, etc to treat illnesses and symptoms such as diarrhea, fever, malaria, buns, cuts, pregnancy pains etc.

Generally the group grows the plants, harvests them, dries and prepares them for storage, and then sells them. At the crux of it all, the medicine the group makes are various teas, creams, oils, and drinks. The group also gives lessons to the community about how they can also make their own medicines and use them correctly. ANAMED has several books, but there is always a little difference between what is written in the book and what is taught. Definitely risky business at some points.

In the middle of the week we also will be making a stove from local material that is supposed to reduce the amount of wood needed to cook (good for time spent collecting wood and the environment), but there are definitely some obstacles (ie - a lot of front end work, it being different than what people are used to, might be taking away from some of the valued away time women get while looking for wood, etc).

****

I am sitting in pain next to 3 middle aged Mozambican women who couldn’t be more comfortable and interested. I feel weak saying this, but after only an hour or so, my back is already tired from sitting on this backless bench. The sun is beating down on the tin roof overhead. We’re making a “tintura” of various plants to help support the immune system. These mixtures are gin-based (to improve the shelf life of them) and are a little complicated to make… don’t think I’ll ever be making them! Today’s the 4th day our Natural Medicine training and I am already becoming quite a bit skeptical about our ability to duplicate this program in Nauela. Maybe we can include at least some aspects of it. I don’t know how we’ll get the Health post to buy into it though…. We’ll see!

***

I talked with Monschi this morning about some of my doubts/questions. She told me that they motivate the group by paying their “volunteers”1350 mets/month and the leader gets 1500mets/month. Definitely not an option for me because of the money constraints and lack of sustainability…. In fact, when Monschi goes back to Austria in November (her mother has cancer that has spread throughout her body and Monshi need to go home to be with her) she “knows” that no one will continue to work when the mission’s money dries up. Maybe at the very least the knowledge will stay in the community.

While project is giving a great service and knowledge to the community, it is not financially sustainable. They give the medicine out to the community members who can’t pay, and only charge 10 metacais (30 cents) for those who can pay, but HIV/AIDS patients always get their medicine for free. In Mocuba and other bigger cities, people charge more… but here in Mulevala you can’t raise the prices too much before people will just stop being interested in it.

Lastly, Monschi assures me that, according to her research, there aren’t any bad chemical reactions between ARV therapy and Moringa/Artemisia which they give to the HIV positive patients. Hopefully that’s true and everyone at the health post takes my/her word for it too.

Thursday August 26th, 2010

Even when you’ve been working the whole time, it feels weird/bad to be gone from site for so long. First Tanzania, then PDM, then PSN, then the Natual Medicine training… since the middle of July I’ve only been at site for a handful of days and nights. Most of which were during school break so no one was here anyways. You feel out of place coming back after so long. You have to dive back in with all of your new ideas and that’s what I’ve been trying to do. I wanna start up a chess club, revive the theater group, continue working with the church, the Lurdes Mutola Foundation, Muretchele (the PLWHA group who did the natural medicine training), etc. It’s overwhelming at times because there are other side projects that I’m not even thinking about (ie the World Vision enriched flour/nutrition project).

Today I get a semi expected 30 minute visit from Rosie, a PCV from Cabo Delgado, just to say hi and deliver a few things on her way back North. She tried to help me pick up my solar panel… but alas, the shop keep still hasn’t gone to Nampula to buy it… patience! Definitely something you get good at here.

I’m writing this letter out on paper while lying down on my bed by candle light. Looking down at my bed I am thinking about the little things… like my idea for making a bed spread quilted down comforter from capalanas… can’t wait... I’m saving up little by little to buy the remaining fabric. Today I had to spend so much money ($12!) repairing my bike! GAH! I’m broke until next month, but once that happens, I should be good. Amanda’s decorating habits have definitely rubbed off on me. In a good way… now I’m more moderate in my frugality. :-)

BTW, are you excited for the start of Gator Foodball season? I am! And I don’t even get to watch any of the games live… Duuuuh, da da, da da, Go Gators! Random thought: this will be the first football season that I haven’t been to a single games since… I was 3 years old, I think. Have to ask my dad about that one though…

Friday August 27th, 2010

Today I met with Osorio and Wilson at the hospital about incorporating the natural medicine training into Muretchele’s work here in Nauela. They were very supportive and excited to hear about it. I was really worried about them being very skeptical, but they were all for it! The two Muretchele reps, Joakim and the president (Elicio), were both beaming and very excited about the prospects.

We might have a training with the whole group as soon as mid September! I’ll keep you updated :-)

***

Sometimes, things just happen in Mozambique that make blogging HARD. Internet access goes out, the digital camera dies, power becomes nonexistent in your town, and things just seem to get busy all of a sudden… then, before you know it, a few months have flown by!

In a perfect storm of logistical and technological shortcomings, I realize that I’ve now fallen over 2 months behind in my updates. It’s to the point where I go back to tidy up a story and I’ve already started to forget the details as I play my game of catch up… Staring down the long list of events that still need to be elaborated on, it’d a daunting task to take on even with all the time and resources in the world (both of those lacking here in my life in Mozambique).

So, instead of killing myself trying to fight it, I’ve decided to just NOT elaborate on the past 2 months and instead give you a bullet list of what’s been going on during that period. I figure that by wiping the slate clean I’ll be able to focus, with a fresh memory, on my blog entries and keep you all up-to-date on the new things going on in my life.

And what’s to say this won’t become a regularly occurring event? Well, thankfully, many things have taken some positive turns lately and things are looking up: 1) I just got hand delivered a sweet, new camera from America (thanks to all you back at home who donated and my mom who delivered it while visiting), 2) I’m finally biting the bullet and installing a solar panel at my house (which theoretically guarantees energy for my computer), and 3) looking ahead at the next few months I am foreseeing a possible a slowdown in my busy schedule (we’ll see about that though! Who knows…).

All that said, there are some really cool things that have happened over the past 2 months and I’ll periodically try to reach back and develop those stories as I move on and share them with you.

As for now, sit back and brace yourself because here comes my past 2 months… rapid fire!

One Love,

Michael

P.S.- I’d like to take a moment to say a very sincere thank you to all you back in America who reached out and supported me financially with my camera fund. At this moment I’d specifically like to recognize: Eban and Dani Bean, Pidge Boyles, Jean and David Evans, Jeannette and Bruce MacFadden, Hiroshi Ogawa, Andrew Resnick, and Rosa Lee and Ed Tomberlin

If you are still interested in helping support my camera fund and haven’t had the chance to do so yet, please mail a check made out to Michael Tudeen to my father’s address who will then deposit the money into my bank account:

Jeffery Tudeen

1210 NW 36th Rd.

Gainesville, FL 3260

****

Thursday May 20th - Monday May 24th, 2010

The day after “The Day,” all of Nauela, including myself, start the process of cleaning up after Guebuza’s brief visit that flooded Nauela with so many people. The streets are peppered with wrappers, fruit peels, and plastic bags, but surprisingly nothing is smashed and there’s no evidence of any vandalism. Inside my house is also particularly messy because all the members of the Moloque’s AJUDE theater group that came to perform for the President cooked several meals and stored their belongings at my house. On top of general cleaning, it’s been a long time since my last laundry load and, even though my new rapaz is about to start, I definitely need to get that done today. Luckily, though, I can optimistically think that it very well might be my last load of laundry that I EVER, unwillingly, do by hand again!

Keeping me at home all morning doing these chores around the house has one benefit though: I am available to any of the motivated community members who want to drop in my house and seek me out. And that’s just what happens today! Armando and Raphael, two of the area’s Catholic youth group leaders, show up in the late morning and invite me out to the Catholic mission this Saturday to participate/watch the area youth group meeting. Excited about the possibility of making inroads with a group of adolescents, I quickly agree :-)

The following day I make my way to Moloque early in the morning in order to meet with my FGH counterpart, Rocha, at 10am for an agreed upon meeting. I show up at the district hospital around 9am with the idea that I’ll be able to surf the internet for a while, but find out upon my arrival that for some reason there’s still unfortunately no internet in our district (a lingering aftereffect of the fiber optic cable being cut a few weeks back) :-(!!! Waiting around at the hospital just twiddling my thumbs till 10:30am, I start sending texts and calling Rocha to no avail. Frustrated and bored, I can’t take it any longer and start asking around if anyone knows my counterpart’s whereabouts.

Turns out that one of the FGH drivers at the hospital has known all along where Rocha is (the driver knew that I was looking for Rocha and didn’t say anything this whole time… why?!) and offers to accompany me to where I can find him. - Okay! What are we waiting for?! Let’s go already! - Just a short walk from the hospital, I find Rocha and Rui, the Communications Coordinator for FGH, behind a neighborhood market in the middle of a meeting with a local women’s group. Rocha later tries to justify his tardiness by saying that he had scheduled a meeting with Rui for earlier that morning and it went longer than they had anticipated, but I’m not buying it! Ultimately, I believe that I was simply outranked by Rui and, because of my lower priority I suffered! I gotta hand it to my counterpart actually… he sure isn’t dumb. He’ll do whatever it takes to impress the people calling the shots in order to keep his job safe… but not much more!

Once Rocha and I bid Rui goodbye, we go back to the hospital and Rocha, after 6 months of me working in the district, FINALLY formally presents me to the FGH clinical team in Alto Moloque. He explains to me what FGH’s role is in the hospital (to aid the national health care system in treating and preventing HIV infections) and more or less how they try to accomplish that task. The theoretic clinical scheme is as follows: FGH first offering HIV tests to the general population, if they are HIV positive next they take a blood sample to get the patient’s CD4 count, then if the count is 250 or lower the patients starts ARV therapy, if not, the patient keeps coming back every few months to check their CD4 levels.

Sounds like an okay system, right? I mean, we’d like to give the treatment to all HIV positive individuals, but with limited resources I guess we have to have some way to decide who gets access to the services. Well… if only it was only that easy! There are a number of things that complicate the matter, but first and foremost is the fact that FGH is frequently running short of HIV tests, especially in their remote sites like Nauela, and thus must decide who they most want to get tested. In order to try to limit Parent-to-Children transmission and in order to have data for national health statistics, FGH gives top HIV testing priority to expecting mothers (there’s some formula that international health workers have devised to estimate the general population’s HIV rate based on the numbers from the test results in the country’s maternity wards). Whatever is left over from the maternity ward of the month’s supply of HIV tests is then typically only available to the sickest general patients that health workers suspect might already be experiencing the effects of AIDS.

All this makes it very hard as a HIV-prevention health worker to encourage people to “know their status” and seek treatment if they are still outwardly appearing healthy. They would almost surely be turned away at the health center if they show up and most people are well aware of this (just one more barrier to keep an already hesitant population from taking an HIV test! Gah!). To make matters worse, even people who get tested and put on ARV therapy oftentimes struggle to stay adherent to the treatment. The medicine can cause some significant side effects and for someone who has started the treatment, improved, and not very knowledgeable about HIV (i.e.- that the virus hasn’t actually left their body) might stop seeking treatment, build up resistance to the drugs, and then take a quick turn for the worse. Not to mention the fact that once individuals build up that drug resistance, if they pass on HIV to another partner, that partner will also contract the drug resistant strain and their body would be unlikely to later respond to the first-line HIV treatment available here in Mozambique.

In the end, I hope that introducing ARV therapy to populations in Mozambique/Africa that do not understand the virus, are not ready to commit to the lifelong therapy, and continue to knowingly spread the virus after being diagnosed and undergoing therapy doesn’t turn around and bite everyone in the butt when it turns out that most HIV strains become resistant to so many of our drugs… We’ll see!

***

In other, possibly more uplifting news, Rogerio, my new rapaz, started working at my house today. We talked a lot about general work expectations and even a little about scholastic expectations since I’m paying him in terms of school supplies. He’s in 10th grade this year so next year, if he passes this year, he’ll have to go to Alto Moloque or Gurue in order to continue studying. He seems like a really great kid and pretty intelligent. I’m thinking that maybe I can even help him out little financially if everything goes well, he passes 10th grade, and he wants to continue to study.

***

Saturday Went to the Catholic mission today and met up with the youth group. They want to define the group better. Suggested they have more regular meetings that don’t need to much communication beforehand (i.e. – they decided to have a meeting ever second Saturday of the month unless otherwise decided). Got AWESOME Lomwe book. Getting copies made for over PCVs next week when I go to Quelimane for another FGH meeting. Then went to Mehecane to visit with Pastor Vicente (prayed during the Presidential visit)

***

So it just so happens that Dulce, the owner of my house’s daughter, had her first period on Thursday. “How the heck do I know that?!,” you might ask. Well in the northern Zambezia region there is a tradition of having a big party/rite of passage for young women called Mwali. The ritual lasts for 3-4 days and invites women who are friends of the family from all around the area to come and teach the young woman “everything there is to know” about being a woman. Janeiro built a big enclosed shelter where all the older women would come by everyday to sing and dance, and drop in little words of wisdom here in there to help instruct her how to behave now that she is a woman. To say the least, if you think about it, the whole ordeal is rather impressive. The group of women remains relatively constant for the entire celebration, with the group splitting between cooking and singing and dancing. At first glance, you figure that everyone would be all about the singing and dancing, but literally it’s the same chant for HOURS on end… As I’m typing this it’s now it’s 10 pm and they show no sign of slowing down. Sometimes I look up from my computer and think… this is a beautiful gesture and all, but honestly, why won’t they shut up already?! ;-)

Janeiro's oldest daughter with her kids (noticed how the youngest is "capalana-ed" to her side. Very common way of carrying young kids...

Some of the community women preparing xima.

Look at how much xima they've produced for the feast!

Velosa, Dulce's mom, presenting Dulce with a new capalana pattern that can be worn as a dress.

Dulce, Angel, and a helper sitting with all Dulce's gifts. Notice how sad Dulce looks... It's very common for Mozambicans not to show their happiness at special ocasions.

Angel, her mom, and Ditosa enjoying the Mwali celebration

Everyone asking for food!

The kid's "table" :-)

Tuesday May 25th, 2010

Helping the Lurdes Mutola driver arrange things for the training on Thursday-Saturday. I’m going to miss the training that I’ve worked so hard to plan. Bummed out! Meeting a guy who might be my local counterpart when trying to work with the Lurdes Mutola foundation. Getting an FGH ride to Alto Moloque in order to be ready for a trip to Quelimane tomorrow for the FGH meeting with Peace Corps and FGH higher ups coming in from Maputo.

Must have been kicking and screaming loud enough that we are finally drawing some attention. Hopefully this will manifest itself in some positive results. I’ve already sort of given up on these meetings directly benefiting us. I’m resigned to simply hoping our input has a positive effect for the future of the organization and Peace Corps Volunteers assigned to the organization.

Wednesday May 26th – Sunday May 30th, 2010

Sleeping over at Melissa’s house. Driving to Mugalama and picking up ethan then having to turn around and drive back to Moloque because of a miscommunication between the FGH drivers… so typical! FGH Meeting…. Ruth and Kristie there. Basically same meeting we had two weeks ago. Getting old, hard to keep attention during all of it. Them having to leave after lunch and the provincial supervisors saying afterwards “well lets get real now that they’re gone…”

Amanda coming into town for STC meeting. Going shopping… Going to the beach with Rui and his girlfriend Naíca on Friday night and Saturday day. He rented a beach house (about 300 yards from the water, there’s actually no beach front development) with two bed rooms and wanted some other people to come hang out and split the price. Naica just got to Quelimane. She’s from Maputo, recently came up to Quelimane to start a new job and be closer to Rui.

Amanda getting a free piggyback ride on the beach

Look at the treelined beach behind me. Not a condo in sight! Crazy!

Amanda posing with Rui's two dogs, Spot and Tukalu

Rui, Naica, and I cooking on the grill

Amanda, Naica, and Rui striking a pose outside the beach house.

Look at how cute we are!

Beautiful smile under the beach house's veranda.

Amanda and Rui preparing the lobster

Amanda making sure the lobster down dry out

The beach house was awesome. Very simple, nicely decorated, and well maintained. We had a lot of coffee, grilled up some lobsters. Rui brought his two dogs Tukalu and Spot. Very playful and rascally. We walked along the beach at night. I went skinny dipping. Had a nice day at the beach the next day. Played beach tennis with Amanda, hung out and talked while taking in some sun (with sunscreen on!). Went back to the house and grilled up some lobster before cleaning up and heading out. We’ll have to do it again!

Got back to the house and, after taking quick showers, we went out with Rui, Naíca, and Ethan at Quelimane’s new Lebanese restaurant, Beruit. Very good food and atmosphere with indoor big screen tv and outdoor seating. One downfall is that their hummus’ texture is too smooth and leaves much to be desired.

Bought a ticket before dinner for a bus that was leaving early the next morning at 5am. Amanda woke me up at 5am and after taking a breath I gathered my thoughts and remembered that Greg was leaving around the same time with his NGO, PSI, and so I gave him a call and ended up being saved by getting a ride with him. We were flying down the road and actually passed the bus I was going to take even though it left almost 45 minutes before our car.

Monday May 31st, 2010

Cleaning house with my Rapaz, Rogerio. Teaching him how to do things how I like it little by little. Teaching him English and praying together over meals. Lurdes Mutola Foundation had a training for the area coaches here in Nauela last week. But I missed it because of the FGH meeting. Talking to a few people about how it went. Raining all day. Rocha, my FGH counterpart, came today but didn’t see him most of the day because he never came by (supposedly due to the rain) until 3pm on his way back to Alto Moloque. He is going to vacation starting tomorrow and left me with some instructions while working with the local HIV group for the next several weeks.

No energy tonight! First time since…. January! Wow! Hope this isn’t a trend though. Last time we didn’t have energy it last for the entire following month.

Tuesday June 1st, 2010 – International Children’s Day

Today started out as anyday might. I woke up as Rogerio rustled opened my door at 5am, starting with the creaking of the grates and ending with the loud thud of the wood door giving way to the inside. My door remained closed during all this because I still was fighting off the nagging call to wake up and instead stay safely tucked under my sheets in my bed. Eventually my conscious won over though as I heard him going through the house, washing my clothes, plates, and sweeping the floor.

Waking up I headed to my usual routine of yoga, poetry/bible reading, prayer, and meditation.

Talked with Pastor Vicente a week or so ago and asked him to send me a letter with his plan for the upcoming month. Didn’t get the letter, but faiguely remembered him talking about the possibility of some activities benefiting orphaned children happening in Mehecane on June 1st to celebrate Children’s Day. Around 10am I had made up my mind, I was going to go visit Mehecane and see what was up even though I had no idea what to expect.

Arrived in Mehecane. No Pastor Vicente. Went to Moloque for the holiday. Asked the people if I could stick around for a while. They assured me that of course I could. Met up with the local soccer coach who had just been trained by the Lurdes Mutola Foundation and talked about the training. A few minutes later the community members, young and old, gathered at the primary school to start the day’s festivities. All the community leaders spoke. Then they planted trees to symbolize children being the future. Then the children presented songs, dances, and a theater piece. During the dance there was a portion of the time where the participants would go out into the crowd and pick audience members to dance in front of the whole crowd. Near the end of the program a brave young girl selected me to dance and I laughed it off and danced to the thorough enjoyment of everyone watching.

Then watched the kids play soccer. Ate lunch with the leaders and then left. Tried to plan a day trip to one of the area’s most notable mountains, but the community leaders insisted I get the permission of the Chefe do Posto first, in writing, to bring to the community leaders there. Apparently the government has warned people against using the mountain for whatever reason and people aren’t very kind to let random people go up it.

The community planting trees symbolizing the youth of today.

Community and school leaders starting the day's activities.

The crowd of school children and parents gathered and waiting.

The opening speech given by a select child.

Dance! Move your feet!

Yep, that's a 8 year-old thrusting. Their dancing is a little... sexual... to say the least

The moms of the community thinking that the sexual dance moves are so funny!

A theater play about children's rights

Thrusting dances aren't limited to mixed sexes...

The grandmother who I ended up choosing to dance after I was forced to dance.

Not all of the kids were entertained by the dancing and theater... (Spongebob in the background!)

The head coach playing alongside while teaching...

GOOOOOOOAL! (I love this picture BTW!)

Friday June 4th, 2010

Trip the other day to Guilherme and Malapa to meet with the Lurdes Mutola coach supervisors. Went really well! Got a hand from a guy named Fernando and he invited me over for lunch. He carried my bike across the river. We ate couve and xima. Very impressed with the thoughts of the elected area leaders.

The guy carrying my bike across the river :-) So nice!

Beautiful views from Malapa

Fernando Jamal, the leader of the area Lurdes Mutola coaches, and I

More beautiful views...

That's Mount Nepo to the right that looks like a conical volcano... I wanna climb it!

Trip to Mehecane to see if furniture was ready. Coming back home without furniture, but not empty handed. They gave me grass and some flowers to transplant in my lawn. Rogerio and I worked on the yard Thursday and Friday. Looking pretty good… hopefully it’ll be looking good for Amanda’s arrival next week.

Me digging up sweet potatoes!

Me with my first batch of sweet potatoes!

My front yard after a little landscaping...

Hanging around the house, it felt cool because several few community members came by throughout the time seeking me out. Definitely feeling pretty integrated in my community.

Sunday June 6th, 2010

Went to Mehecane for the church service in the morning. Pastor Vicente wasn’t there, he went to a church in Mugema for the day, but Pastor Samuel was there and he accompanied me around for most of the day. I ate lunch with Pastor Samuel and a pastor from the nearby community of Rocha and he invited me over for a visit the following Saturday to speak with the community leader and the youth soccer coaches in the community who had been recently trained by the Lurdes Mutola Foundation. In the afternoon I watched some of the youth from Mehecane practice and play against eachother in soccer.

One side of the field is filled with eukalyptus trees/stumps because there is nowhere else that is that is big and flat.

Corner kick! With the coach, Eugidio, pictured in the front

Trying to juke the defenders

Then headed home. Didn’t want to be too confident, but I had a feeling that Amanda was on her way from Morrumbala to Nauela. When I got home I saw her notebook (outlining the adventure that she had in getting to Nauela) outside with directions to read it before entering. Indeed, her trip must have been quite exhausting (more so than usual even) and to prove it she was in my living room passed out on my sofa.

Monday June 7th – Friday June 11th, 2010

Amanda and I hiked Mount Nauela together. She showed me a demonstration from the local materials art training she just completed.

On late Tuesday afternoon/evening (we missed the last chapa, but luckily got a boleia from some people coming back from Nampula) we went to Gurue for my meeting with the Lurdes Mutola people on Wednesday morning. After the meeting on Wednesday morning, Julia, Amanda, and I hiked up into the surrounding mountains, through the tea fields to a waterfall.

Coming back to Nauela on Thursday. Waking up on Friday and feeling VERY sick. Asking Amanda to stay an extra day and take care of me.

Saturday June 12th, 2010

Waking up feeling A LOT better. Amanda leaving. Me deciding to go test out my strength. Go to catholic mission to see if the youth group is there. No. Going to Mehecane to see if the Ophans group is there. No! Waiting around though and them showing up late. Them asking me to say a few words. I would like to incorporate some of the local-material art stuff into this group. Then going over to Rocha for the meeting with the community leader and the Lurdes Mutola coaches. Having a really good meeting with them.

Monday June 14th – Wednesday June 16th, 2010

FGH comes to Nauela. Forgot documents for Muretchele. I met with Muretchele and agreed to go to Molocue to get the documents thinking that I could use the travel opportunity to get on the internet. Decided to make Hummus and Tortillas for lunch, takes a while. The FGH car came by just as we were finishing up cooking lunch. I told them to go ahead without me. I had to catch a chapa to Molocue. Go there late in the evening and immediately went to the hospital to use the internet. FGH people had already left for the day and locked the office, but left the wireless router on so I was able to get internet sitting outside the office as long as my battery lasted. I noticed a bunch of people gathered outside the hospital. More than is normal for that hour. Turns out the hospital was showing the world cup on the tv they have set up for the people waiting outside and during these days they show the world cup. SO basically the hospital has become quite the hangout! World Cup games on tv, wireless internet, and emergency health care only a shout away :-)

Without so much as a piece of bread for lunch, I camp out at the hospital for the entire next day using the internet to fill out this year’s AMCAS application in order to reapply for medical school next year.

I show up early and ask to see Dique, the person entrusted with the documents for Muretchele, but he stepped out of the office for a bit. When he finally shows up at nearly 11am, I’m engrossed in the application, but pull myself away to ask him about the documents’ whereabouts. He gives me a confused look and then starts rummaging through his cluttered desk. It’s actually like a movie, a desk with stacks of papers piled a foot high. Almost 30 minutes later he comes back to me with the inevitable answer that he has somehow lost the documents for Muretchele. Luckily, I brought a format for the form and was able to do it myself (Gah! I know that us Peace Corps Volunteers are supposed to always be working alongside people… but why must it be so much easier just to do it alone!) in about 10 minutes time… and then back to the application.

Sure I also spend a lot of the day updating my facebook (maybe you all noticed my updated relationship status :-)), but literally almost the entire day, 9 to 5, is spent finishing that application. Luckily, just as the day comes to an end and the people start leaving the office, I finish and submit my application. I rush out of the office just before the last person is set to leave and walk off feeling satisfied with my accomplishments for the day. It isn’t till I reach Gina and Kate’s house that I realize I left my travelbag in the hospital office… so much for leaving early tomorrow morning.

Thursday June 17th – Saturday June 19th, 2010

After a long stretch of cool dry weather that has sucked all the moisture out of the dirt road. Creating a whirlwind of dust infront of my house as cars pass by. The start of the cold, rainy weather. Almost feels like I’m back in Chile with the Pacific Ocean-induced long, cold days with ever-present hovering fog. I just want to stay and chill in inside. And that’s what I do for much of Friday and Saturday. I justify it by saying that remembering back on my time in Namaacha and thinking how everyone ridiculed me for leaving the house to go to the day’s training sessions.

Meeting with Lurdes Mutola people in Guilherme on Thursday. Friday meeting up with

So one thing you may not think about back in the States or even in other places in Mozambique is that when the local government decides not to turn on the town’s generator and it’s cloudy all day… there’s no energy! Not even for those select few who have solar panels!

I’m not entirely sure why we don’t have energy. I actually showed up in Nauela and the same chapa that was carrying 200 liters of gas for our town’s generator… and yet nothing! I ask around town and people say that we must be saving up for June 25th, Mozambique’s Independence Day.

Well I’ve been in Nauela for over 6 months now and this hasn’t been a problem until now… Forgetting to bring my phone’s charger to Molocue, my phone’s battery is completely dead just a few days removed from my trip to town and even my friends with solar panels can’t help me even though they want to!

Luckily, tonight we get a Saturday night surprise and the energy comes on unexpectedly. I immediately run to charge my phone. Rogerio, my rapaz, and I spend the even watching Wall-E and a little gator football.

Talking to local secondary school history teacher the other day and him telling me that Mozambique’s political leadership is and party system is bound to improve once the military leaders of Mozambique’s independence fight die off because now all the higher ups are military leaders and not intellectuals. Also he said that a big problem that Mozambique is facing now is that during the civil war, Mozambique’s leading political force, FRELIMO, had to borrow tons of money to buy arms and supplies from China while the opposing side, RENAMO, was largely financed by the United States because of FRELIMO’s socialist ideals during the Cold War. Well Mozambique is still paying back China for those debts accrued during the Cold War and China basically pillages Mozambique’s natural resources (lumber, agriculture, etc) as a way of making the money back up since actual money is very scarce in the current administration. Hurts Mozambique ability to drive a hard bargain. China takes all these natural resources, refines them in China into a finish product, and then sells them back to Africa for a profit. Sounds like colonialism all over!

Radio commentor the other day talking about this on the BBC world news (that I pick up with my Short Wave Radio-thank you family!) pondered how long it would be before high end Cars are made in China with the nuts and bolts with imprints saying “made in Africa”….

Thursday June 24th- Wednesday 30th, 2010

Visiting Amanda – met Masie (LINK TO HER WEBSITE) an American photographer who is doing a multimedia piece for Save the Children UK, Visited Kaiya on Mozambican Independence day with Amanda, Lena, and Brian, Went to the Cuacua Lodge, crossed the Zambezia river, learned to do art therapy, bought some new clothes, got some shorts made out of some capulana material, went to church without Jim and Eileen (they were in South Africa).

Friday July 2nd, 2010

Arriving home to energy, but then the next day the generator stopping working! No fun!

Meeting Joe from World Vision who has sought me out – wants me to get involved with a cashew-enriched flour project

Saturday July 3rd, 2010

Lurdes Mutola trainers meeting. Sitting at home at 8:50am wondering if anyone would show up at all for the scheduled 10am meeting. Right on time the two leaders show up an hour early for last minute meeting planning. We walk over to the primary school as the clock strikes 10 and find 15 or so head coaches waiting for us to start. A good start! People continue to straggle in as the meeting goes on. The two leaders lead the meeting, goes really well, but is too long and the last part of planning a championship left a lot of people confused. A lot of people thinking they should have A LOT of team. Not just 1 and train it well. A lot of pressure from community to get as many people as possible using the balls. Quanitity over quality. Not just battling with the trainer. Also a battle with the community leaders. Many balls are already ruined with holes due to overuse, improper care, adults using the kids balls.

Sunday July 4th, 2010 – Happy Independence Day!

Visited Mehecane for church, Eleve for the afternoon to visit a female head coach for the Lurdes Mutola Foundation and her teams, picked up a chicken on the way home (hanging off my bike handlebars feeling so Mozambican. Killed the chicken for dinner, had to pluck and clean it, then cook it up. So much work… no wonder I’m practically a vegetarian at my site!

Monday July 5th, 2010

Went and found woman who had clay to make pots. Brought the clay to my house and showed me how to prepare it for the next day.

Tuesday July 6th, 2010

Played with kids for 2 hours making various art pieces with clay and local materials.

Wednesday July 7th- Friday July 9th, 2010

Went to Alto Moloque to meet up with Joe B. A recent MBA recipient out of Vanderbilt who is partnered up with World Vision and a Mozambican company to try and produce a nutrient dense flour to eventually sell commercially here in Mozambique. Melissa and I met up with Joe and his World Vision crew and we tried our best to prepare the flour by toasting the corn, soy beans, and cashews and then milling them together.

Saturday July 10th, 2010

Met with Muretchele at the hospital to decide who would be attending next month’s training about natural medicine with me in a neighboring district and divide up tasks about who would be building the group’s temporary meeting shelter located to one side of the hospital.

Sunday July 11th – Tuesday July 13th, 2010

Amanda stops by my site early before we fly to Tanzania together, via Nampula, to meet up with my visiting mom.

Wednesday July 14th - Friday 16th, 2010

Amanda and I catch a flight from Nampula to Dar es Salaam and spend a day and a half exploring the city before my mom arrives from the church’s mission trip in Nigeria. Make our home base at the Jambo Inn. We continue exploring the city with my mom, souvenir shopping (begin our Swahili lessons), feel the pains of taking local transit, collapse into our bed as we get ready for our upcoming safari

Saturday July 17th – Friday July 23rd, 2010

Take a bus from Dar es Salaam to Arusha (no matter what lies they tell you, the ride DOES take all day!), meet up with our safari company and pay our remaining balance, enjoy our last night in a hotel before several nights of no showers while camping on our safari. Start off Sunday with a drive out of Arusha into the countryside and eventually entering Tarangire National Park. Very impressive! Tons of several-hundred-year-old baobob trees. Plenty of zebra, wildebeest, giraffe, elephant, impala, dik dik, water buck, warthogs, ostriches, baboons… saw a lion and some buffalo from a distance… Next day we’re off to the Serengeti, passing along the rim of the Ngorongoro crater. Takes most of the day’s drive to get there and don’t see too much wildlife, but pretty scenery. Once in the heart of the Serengeti we’re almost immediately greeted by a pack of lioness and their cubs that pass within feet (inches even!) of our vehicle. So STRONG! Next day we become very familiar with our friend the infamous Thompson Gazelle (you can’t get away from them! They are everywhere! Except when there is a pack of lioness hunting… then suddenly they are nowhere to be found!), Grant Gazelle, Buffalo, Hippo, and Leopard… but still no Rhino, male Lion, or Cheetah…. Final day in the Serengeti and we see 2 cheetahs, a very cute baby elephant, and some younger male lions as we are backtracking to the Ngorongoro crater. Arrive at the campsite as night is falling. Bitter cold wind whipping all night long. The next morning isn’t much better. We enter the crater and add flamingos to our list. Look and look… see plenty of wildebeest, but nothing remarkable. Finally, thanks to the aid of all the parked safari cars, we spot a distant rhino. Then just before we leave and throw in the towel, we see 2 HUGE male lions, with the dark mains and all, but they are laying down in the grass with their bellies up (ruining a possible picture)… must have just eaten the driver says. Drive back to Arusha and buy a bus ticket back to Dar for the next morning (again… takes all day, no matter what they say!)

Saturday July 24th – Wednesday July 28th, 2010

Leave Dar es Salaam for Zanizbar via ferry, calm seas and beautiful views. Come into Stone Town and drop our bags at the hotel then go out perusing the cramped back alleys for street food and souvenirs. The next day we take a taxi to the remote beach town of Jambiani on the less visited east coast of Zanzibar. Enjoy 3 days and 2 nights at Jambiani. The water is crystal clear, but during low tide goes away from the shore almost a quarter mile… We find a awesome locally owned covered hut on the beach that is our all purpose meal stop, we go out on a snorkeling excursion (lots of pretty fish, coral, etc) and just do some relaxing in the sun. Taxi back to Stone town and then back to Dar on the ferry for our flights home. My mom leaves us at 3 in the morning in order to get to the airport for her 5am flight to Kenya en route to America. Amanda and I get one more morning to explore Dar es Salaam’s streets before heading back to Nampula, Mozambique and the Project Development and Management (PDM) workshop waiting for us there.

Thursday July 29th – Sunday Aug 1st, 2010

Amanda and I join our counterparts for the PDM conference in Nampula. I invited a pastor of a local church who meets me in Nampula for the conference. The church is trying to start a carpentry project for area orphans by raising money and teaching the kids. The conference goes well, it’s a lot of basic planning and design things, but is new and interesting for my counterpart.

Monday Aug 2nd – Saturday Aug 7th, 2010

Back at site. Readjusting to being alone again for the first time in a while. Reconnecting with community groups. Planning and then putting on a meeting with the area soccer coaches. Meeting with the church’s leaders in Mehecane.

Sunday Aug 8th – Thursday Aug 12th, 2010

Peer Support Network (PSN) conference in Maputo. I am one of 12 volunteer from Peace Corps Moz 14 who has been chosen to be an official supporter of other volunteers in country. Although I’d like to say that I’d support my friends regardless, there are a few more official roles I will be doing through this group and I will be going through a training too!

**Please read the following message**

Last time I post this message BTW... I promise!

Dear Readers,

Thank you so much for your continued support while following my blog. As of now, I can see that there are 100+ people regularly receiving email updates about my blog and/or following me via google blogger. Regardless of your interaction with me, I trust that you have enjoyed my blog's stories and pictures. Many have even taken time away from their busy schedules to email me just to let me know when a particular story or photo touched them. I really appreciate it! It definitely helps keep me motivated and going strong even while there is no power in Nauela and internet access is few and far between...

I am taking the time to write this side note to inform you that my Canon 20D digital camera has recently stopped working and thus there will be a lull in my upcoming photos. Just like many, I absolutely love the photos of Nauela/Mozambique/Africa and want them to continue. Thus, after much debate, I have asked my family back in the US to take money out of my bank account to purchase a refurbished Canon 40D with 2 new lens (two of my lenses have stopped working too) and send them over to me as soon as possible. That said, with me being a volunteer and these funds coming out of my personal bank account, I am really struggling financially and would really appreciate any help that you all could offer me.

If any of you would like to contribute, even just a few bucks, please email me at mtudeen@gmail.com or contact my brother at btudeen@gmail.com and we will let you know how you can donate and help support me and this blog.

Thank you in advance for your support.

One Love,

Michael Tudeen

***

Friday May 14th, 2010

So here I am back in Quelimane, along with the other 5 PCVs partnered with FGH in Mozambique, for a scheduled meeting with the organization’s entire community development sector to address the frequently reported problems going on at the community level. Before the meeting starts, we all prepare a short presentation about the successes and problems (a lot more about the problems!) at our specific sites. We’re all brave and honest writing down things on paper, but once the time finally arrives to get up and drop the bomb that our coordination efforts with our FGH counterparts have largely been colossal failures there’s a looong, awkward pause trying to decide with our eyes who will go first. “Any volunteers?” Maria dos Anjos knowingly asks.

I take a breath, push out my chair, and make my way to the front of the conference room. I’d like to say that I was well-spoken, presented clearly, respectfully and concisely, and that I didn’t hold anything back. I’d like to say that… but I probably only half-accomplish all of that. At least I can walk away from the experience saying that I definitely spoke my mind and set a good stage for those who were to follow. As the day meeting comes to a close, however, I have to disagree with the general group consensus that this meeting has been a success. Indeed, we laid on the table the large majority of the issues that we needed to, but how we take those words and put them into action over the next month or so will be my judge of how well this meeting went.

Leaving the conference room, Maria dos Anjos starts “Almost forgot… Your supervisor from the Peace Corps wants to have a meeting with all of us, so we have another meeting scheduled here for May 27th. I expect to see you all there!” I roll my eyes and head out the door wondering out loud to my fellow volunteers “Seriously?! What a great start for our better communication and coordination efforts…”

Saturday May 15th, 2010

After a long meeting, what better way to recover before heading back to site than by going to the beach with Amanda for a quick daytrip. Although I always hate on my friends back home who go to the Florida beaches and just sit/lay on their towels all day and sunbathe, I find myself doing a whole lot of just that today. Amanda and I swim a little, walk along the ocean’s edge collecting a ton of seashells, and even wrestle some in the ocean. But largely we just sit, enjoying the sun, and reading. For me the favor of the week is “Eat, Pray, Love”… Good read :-)

Tuesday May 18th - Wednesday May 19th, 2010

Today, the whole town is getting ready for the President’s visit tomorrow. Yeah, that’s right! The President of Mozambique is coming to visit Nauela tomorrow! Needless to say, everyone is going crazy. I just hope that I’ll be able to get some pictures.

Walking around the town, the scene is unreal. Everyone who is normally just walking around, chatting, and chilling is scurrying back and forth doing ridiculously productive things like finishing up constructing the secondary school, repainting all the town’s official buildings, putting up decorative flags everywhere, not to mention clearing out a huge space for the President’s plane or helicopter to land.

The administration building with it's new coat of paint

The police station looking pretty sexy too!

As the day winds down, a soccer game is held between two adult male teams from Nauela and Alto Moloque that EVERYONE comes out to. When I say everyone, I mean everyone in the town, plus the countryside, PLUS the city of Alto Moloque because the government has been bussing in thousands of people all day long from the city free of charge for the President’s visit tomorrow. The game is Moloque dominated, but somehow ends in a 0-0 tie. Looking at the whole end scene, you’d never know it though… the entire Nauela partial crowd erupts and charges onto the field as the final whistle blows excited just to have been competitive…

***

“So today’s the special day, huh?” I think as I pull myself out of bed. Stumbling through my normal morning routine, I am not worried about the 8am rumored arrival time for the President. I mean, even if the arrival time IS 8am, surely that means he won’t show up until at least 9 or 10am, right?… At any rate, I start by opening up the front doors, taking a shower, and making breakfast… not all at once of course, but you know what I mean… Then, all of a sudden, my lazy breakfast is interrupted by an unfamiliar sound from overhead.

A helicopter!

I make a quick dash out to the gathering crowd at Nauela’s impromptu landing strip and arrive just in time for the touching down. Immediately I see that, as it turns out, it’s not just 1 helicopter for Guebuza… No no… There is definitely a posy of 6 helicopters descending on the previously ridiculously-huge-seeming landing strip.

Luckily, I had the peace of mind to grab my camera while running out of my house’s front door and after reaching the crowd, I quickly start TRYING to take pictures of community leaders all dressed up. Not getting a good view from the back and not being able to squeeze through crowd, I reason to sneak around side. I am greeted at the end of the line of people, however, by an armed guard turning everyone and their mother (literally) away. For whatever reason (the fact that I had a big camera, that I was dressed decently, or that I was simply white), the guard lets me through the blockade and I end up getting pretty dang close to Guebuza as he is greeting all the community leaders. In the end, I actually get a little TOO close in the Mozambican Secret Service’s mind and am politely, but firmly, asked to back off because in their armed-opinion I don’t have any credentials whatsoever (as a strange twist later, the Chefe do Posto actually lectures me saying that I should have asked for credentials beforehand because he would have gladly given them to me just so I could take all the pictures).

The kids stuck back in the corn field while the guard lets me by to take pictures...

The community leaders all lined up ready to shake hands with the President

Guebuza's 6 helicopters all lined up... where the heck is that pilot from anyways?!

The community leaders pictured against the backdrop of Nauela's signature mountain "Nepo"....

Janeiro, the owner of my house, riling up the crowd

Guebuza shaking hands with the community leaders... this is right before I got asked back off!

From the landing strip, Guebuza is carried to the town’s public forum via someone’s personal vehicle while standing up through the sunroof waving (pretty high school homecoming-esk, right?!). I can’t help but think that someone must have prompted everyone about this because the general population is all quickly lined up on the side of the road waving back, with cultural groups performing, and everyone gawking a little at the absurdity of the whole scene of the President visiting such a rural site as Nauela.

A boy playing his heart out for the President

Guebuza waving to the crowd...

The thousands of people who flood Nauela's streets en route to the public forum

Watching the presentation that the public forum, I couldn’t help but start wondering why all the aforementioned city improvements didn’t happen way before the knowledge of Guebuza’s visit. Well, if there was any doubt, we all find out the truth when Guebuza asks 10 people from the crowd to come up and voice their concerns about the district. Turns out, the workers who have been building the school and such have been working on a credit system and in the past 2 months alone have created a tab of nearly $3000 (86,000 metacais which is a lot of money for this country and this area in particular) and the local government has been making it seem like the money won’t be coming to them any time soon.

A local women's group singing and dancing as they open up the forum

The Moloque theater group AJUDE performing for the masses

The community, district, provincial, and national leaders sitting on stage

The public forum scene from a distance

From left to right, the Chefe do Posto of Nauela, the Administrator of the Province of Zambezia, and finally the President of Mozmabique!

A loaded up chapa ready to head out

Everyone pouring out of Nauela back to Moloque

In the days surrounding the visit, everyone (i.e.- a few of my PCV friends) keeps asking me, “Why Nauela?!” Well, I’m not really sure, but the fact that Guebuza often refers to how many districts he visits and the fact that he likes to visit relatively rural sites to connect better with a variety of Mozambican populations might be the answer… Who really knows…

On a side note, before Guebuza finally gets his chance to speak, he asks representatives from the Catholic church, the Uniao Baptista church, and the local mosque to bless the ceremony. Staring at the stage, familiar faces start coming up to the front to pray… my neighbor and good friend Wiado, the bread maker, prays for the area Islamic community, meanwhile Pastor Vincente from Mehecane prays for protestants. I didn’t know the catholic representative, but I think 2 out of 3 is pretty good!

Wiado dressed to the nines giving his prayer

**Please read the following message**

Dear Readers,

Thank you so much for your continued support while following my blog. As of now, I can see that there are 100+ people regularly receiving email updates about my blog and/or following me via google blogger. Regardless of your interaction with me, I trust that you have enjoyed my blog's stories and pictures. Many have even taken time away from their busy schedules to email me just to let me know when a particular story or photo touched them. I really appreciate it! It definitely helps keep me motivated and going strong even while there is no power in Nauela and internet access is few and far between...

I am taking the time to write this side note to inform you that my Canon 20D digital camera has recently stopped working and thus there will be a lull in my upcoming photos. Just like many, I absolutely love the photos of Nauela/Mozambique/Africa and want them to continue. Thus, after much debate, I have asked my family back in the US to take money out of my bank account to purchase a refurbished Canon 40D with 2 new lens (two of my lenses have stopped working too) and send them over to me as soon as possible. That said, with me being a volunteer and these funds coming out of my personal bank account, I am really struggling financially and would really appreciate any help that you all could offer me.

If any of you would like to contribute, even just a few bucks, please email me at mtudeen@gmail.com or contact my brother at btudeen@gmail.com and we will let you know how you can donate and help support me and this blog.

Thank you in advance for your support.

One Love,

Michael Tudeen

***

Sunday April 25th, 2010 – Wednesday April 27th, 2010

The morning following Amanda’s party, we wake up early (8am, which is early considering the late night dancing) and catch a ride with Jamie, an area World Vision supervisor, just outside of town to attend the American missionary’s church service at Calibu lumber. Only a few minutes into it, I can tell it has a good vibe. The young adults are jumping up and down dancing, singing, and clapping for the whole opening set of praise songs. People are actually excited to be here! The small church building overflows with energy and a sense of spirituality even though there are lots of empty seats scattered throughout. (As an interesting coincidence, turns out that April 25th is not only Amanda’s birthday, but is also the city of Morrumbala’s birthday too, i.e.- the day it was pronounced a city. Thus, many people have gone to the festivities near the city center rather than making it out to Calibu today.)

Calibu’s service, especially the message, is unique. Not because of the topic or delivery, though it was a little more conservative and impassioned than I’m used to back at home (think Southern Baptist and then take it back a few steps). No. Rather, the service is special because of the fact that it’s delivered in ENGLISH by Pastor Jim and then translated into the local dialect by some members of the congregation. Thinking back on my time in the Peace Corps, I can safely say that it’s the first church service I’ve been to in Mozambique where I can finally understand everything that’s being said by the preacher. The feeling of coming away from a church service without feeling my head throbbing after trying to understand a pastor’s Lomwe ramblings is… well… priceless!

On Tuesday night I’m still in Morrumbala and Amanda and I join Pastor Jim and Eileen at their house for their weekly prayer night. They start things off nice and fancy with an AWESOME pork chop dinner and then we step into the living room to get down to business. Eileen starts us off by inviting each one of us to raise up our prayers to the group (tonight composed of Jim, Eileen, Lena (a Zimbabwean merchant working here in Morrumbala), Amanda, and I) and then everyone takes turns going around the circle praying on each issue. I’m a little nervous. “Michael! You knew we were coming to prayer night tonight. Why didn’t you think of some GOOD prayer requests beforehand!” I scold myself. In the end, I take a glance at my future and ask the others to pray to God to simply show me His/Her purpose in my work in Nauela and to give me a better sense of direction with it all (looking back at this journal entry weeks later, I laugh thinking how quickly and thoroughly God answered that prayer!).

Taking a step back from prayer night and focusing in on Jim and Eileen Kirk of Calibu Lumber for a bit, their story is quite impressive. Turns out the missionaries arrived in Morrumbala over 10 years ago with Jim having some background in the lumber biz from his roots in the Midwest. There was no electricity in Morrumbala back when they arrived. No house for them to stay even. In fact, they had to live for more than half a year in a pitched tent before determinedly moving into their half-finished house. Even still, they quickly made their way in the wood exporting business from Northern Mozambique inorder to provide them with the finances to fund their ministry.

Although they cut down all sorts of hard wood, their specialty export is the treasured African Blackwood. Coming from America, you hear a lot about the conservation efforts (i.e. – tourists not buying Blackwood) to keep African Blackwood trees and ones like it from going extinct. Jim assured me, however, that Calibu Lumber was not like many of the other (mostly Chinese) lumber companies that clear cut entire forests of Blackwoods in a day’s time, far exceeded their allotted amount, and then sending the trunks oversees without being processed in country. No. Calibu Lumber’s operation is markedly different. Although the business needs to make a profit to keep their ministry alive and well, the profit margin is not the bottom line. The exporting scale is much smaller and all the labor happens right here in Morrumbala, giving local workers jobs, not only harvesting the trees, but also the huge effort of converting the trunks into exportable products.

Check out some old and new photos from the Calibu Lumber yard below...

The first load of logs coming into Calibu

The first cut by the wood mizer

The rough cut lumber as a result of some long hours slicing away

Eileen showcasing her African hardwood pens that she sells.

A current Calibu worker marking defects in the refined black exportable products

Carving out the bad spots...

The warehouse of all the African Blackwood ready to ship out to the US.

Alongside all the lumber business, Jim and Eileen find time to frequent other seedling churches they support and host an intensive bible school for area ministers every other month for a month at a time. The hope is to enrich the knowledge of the area congregations through the increased knowledge of their ministers. Recognizing the book famine here in Mozambique and how hard the transfer of knowledge is between generations and communities, continuing education is always a big plus and a necessity.

Monday April 26th – Saturday May 1st, 2010

WARNING! We’ve got a man down! We need help… NOW! Sadly, I wake up today to find that Mcel’s service is not working. Thinking it was just a Morrumbala problem, Amanda and I don’t worry too much. Considering that most of our phone time is spent talking back and forth with each other it doesn’t immediately affect us too much anyways. A few days later, when it still hasn’t come back though, we discover that the problem is actually a long-term, general communication outage which reaches across all of Northern Mozambique and even into party of Tanzania. Now realizing that this affects all communications (banks, internet, etc), we quickly start worrying!

Although it’s still unclear, the latest news report suggests that a ship’s dragging anchor may have cut the main fiberoptic telecommunications cable that runs up the East coast of Africa and, at places, is submerged deep in the ocean’s depths. Hearing all this you start to wonder “Is this communication system that we so heavily rely on really this fragile?” In Africa, at least, the answer is resounding YES! I guess that, despite all the wireless innovations we have, our world wide web is actually still made up of very real, vulnerable wires running everywhere :-)

Amanda and I leave her site together on Thursday heading for Quelimane to get together with some other PCVS to help celebrate Luke and Ethan’s birthday parties this weekend. To kill some downtime while in Quelimane, we make a morning visit to one of the local clothing open-air markets and practically pick out a whole new wardrobe for me. I think I’m looking pretty good now… if I do say so myself! Despite the fact that we bought the clothes from a bunch of straw huts in the slums of Quelimane, the stuff is pretty good quality! I mean… it’s literally is a bunch of designer brands, each item costing less than 5 dollars, no matter what you are get! Don’t hate the player… hate the game ;-)

The trip to Quelimane isn’t all pleasure though. I justify my extended stay away from site by arranging a meeting with FGH higher ups Maria dos Angels and Rui about some problems I’ve been experiencing when working (or trying to work) with the organization. In the end, they listen to all my complaints, smile, and inform me that there will be a meeting on May 12th “where we can further discuss all these misunderstandings” … Okay :-/ Even though they had originally told me the meeting was set for the end of May and my Peace Corps supervisor planned her entire month’s schedule around THAT meeting…. at least the fact that we are having this meeting is some progress… right?!

Below are some pictures from Ethan and Luke’s party this weekend in Quelimane:

Yohko enjoying some coconut on the Zalala beach day trip

Everyone posing at the combined birthday party later that night at Dina’s (Luke’s girlfriend) family’s place.

Luke and Ethan lookin’ pretty chique in their matching party capulana print shirts.

Tuesday May 4th, 2010

So there’s still no Mcel service and Vodacom doesn’t reach Nauela (even at the VERY top of my Mango tree!). But needing to contact people for work purposes (just wanting to hear Amanda’s voice), I resolve to bike an hour and a half away and then climb to the top of a mountain with just the CHANCE of being able to call and send messages. At the base of the mountain, although it’s significantly closer to the nearest cell tower than Nauela, I get no reception. “Not a good sign!” I think. About half way up the mountain, though, perched on top of a rock out-pouching in the middle of a corn field, the trip pays off with full bars! Thank you Vodacom!

Having to retreat back to Nauela as the sun crouches low behind the distant mountains, I take one last look at my surroundings and know the trip would have been worth it just for the adventure and the 180 degree view of the rolling, sunset-painted hills nestled up against the distant mountain ranges. That said, I’m really glad I got to hear Amanda’s voice :-)

Arriving back at my house, crawling into bed, and curling up under the covers, I feel so isolated and lonely without my security blanket of knowing that I COULD call someone right now, if I really wanted to… Then again, my mango tree climbing is significantly less appealing and less likely with the cold winter air encompassing the sleeping town.

On a side note, ever since arriving back at site on Sunday afternoon, biking has become quite a large part of my day. And my infamous hero bike has stayed true to form… losing another foot pedal, the seat coming undone (for those of you who knew me with my old, seat-less green mountain bike, I bet you’re smiling right now! What is it with me and bike seats?!), and just generally giving me a whole set of headaches. Besides my excursions to seek cell phone service, I’ve also been biking out to neighboring communities in order to collect suggestions of area coaches who’d be a good fit for the upcoming youth soccer coach training in Nauela put on by the Lurdes Mutola Foundation

Wednesday May 5th- Thursday May 6th, 2010

Only 4 days after getting back to site from my extended stay at Amanda’s, here I am leaving again, albeit for work this time. Today’s chapa adventure marks my third trip to Gurue since arriving to site back in December, but I feel like with my partnership with the Lurdes Mutola Foundation, based out of Gurue, the visits will start to become more frequent.

After spending the night curled up on an esteira on Camille and Aditi’s living room floor, I wake up and take a quick shower before rushing out of the house to meet with people of the Lurdes Mutola Foundation’s office. I walk in their office cynically thinking that the impromptu meeting could last all of 15 minutes, but 2 hours later I walk out with a smile on my face and having discussed a lot more than I thought we would have. Chauchane, the Gurue LMF program director, and I focus our discussion on our goals and expectations for the foundation’s work in Nauela. He patiently listens to my broken, flustered Portuguese and we end up parting ways agreeing that I need to indentify a counterpart back in the Administrative post who will work alongside me in monitoring and evaluating the program after the upcoming training. I can’t wait for the meeting with coaches on May 15th!

Saturday May 8th- Thursday May 13th, 2010

So wait, what did I write a few days ago? That the FGH meeting was scheduled for when? Oh yeah… May 12th. That’s right. Giving me a perfect amount of time to make it back to Nauela afterwards and prepare for that May 15th meeting with the potential youth soccer coaches. Well, feeling a little lonely/down in the dumps because Mcel is still not working, I decide to treat myself by making a SUPRISE visit to Amanda’s site a few days before my meeting in Quelimane with FGH. This is all going to work out perfectly, right?!

WRONG! I am in Macuba, about half way to Morrumbala, when I receive a text (Mcel has already started working again in some of the bigger cities of the Northern Mozambique via other means – i.e. satellites, other fibers, etc) from Chire, my current FGH boss, nonchalantly letting me know that the meeting has been moved to Friday May 14th. “GAH! This ruins everything!” I dramatize in my head. Now I’m going to be gone from site for way longer than I should be and I’m going to miss the Lurdes Mutola meeting on Saturday…. Why must everything that FGH plans/touches turn against me!

Sitting at the chapa stop in Macuba with the sun beating down on my hunched-over back, I take a deep breath and mull it all over… “Should I be that responsible PCV, turn around, and just go back to site or just stick it to FGH and continue on to Morrumbala?…” Now I don’t want to make it seem all that dramatic, because honestly the decision wasn’t that hard at the time: I was continuing on to Morrumbala! and FGH would be lucky if I didn’t just skip their meeting all together in favor of the Lurdes Mutola meeting back in Nauela on Saturday morning!

I arrive late in Morrumbala, flag down a boleia from a random local NGO worker, and get to Amanda’s house which is looking pretty empty. Regardless, I knock on the door optimistically, but her neighbor comes over and informs me that Amanda is out at her bosses’ daughter’s birthday party. :/ After trying to wait it out for a while, wanting to surprise Amanda with me just being at her house unannounced when she got back, the dipping temperatures and slicing wind swiftly defeat my determination. I pick up my phone and quickly dial Amanda’s number to let her know about my almost-complete surprise visit before my stubbornness has time to convince me to do otherwise.

Moments later, Amanda and Baslucas, her boss at Save the Children, come to pick me up in his company car to take me to his daughter’s party. By this time, the 3 year old is long gone, asleep in her bed and the party has transformed itself into an interesting outdoor dance and drinking fest. Drunk, middle-age Mozambican men dancing all up on each other… cultural experiences, right?!

This trip to Amanda’s site flies by. Over the next few days we visit the missionaries out at Calibu lumber again for their church service and prayer night, play disk golf/hang out with Bern (a RPCV who is working for a cotton factory in Morrumbala), paint Amanda’s art room, go clothes shopping at the local market, and throw a cooking party for Lena, Amanda’s empregada, and Lena’s 2 year-old niece, Tina.

Although it was all fun and good times, the last one was especially so because (and I don’t think I’m going out on a limb here when saying this) there’s not much in Morrumbala that Amanda likes more than playing with a giggling Tina.

Our paint brushes missed the wall a few times...

Amanda giving us her best Statue of Liberty pose

Okay... maybe I painted my own face because I just wanted to be like Amanda...

Saturday April 3rd, 2010

Today Amanda and I jumped on a chapa and hightailed it west towards Milevane to visit the Padres and Irmas in order to show her their extravagant (comparatively speaking) setups.

The Padres own a large compound that resembles something of an old, southern-style plantation, complete with 3 large buildings (1 for lodging that comfortably sleeps over 100 people, 1 for meals and gatherings, and another for the maintenance staff), huge grassy fields spotted with grazing livestock, and flourishing gardens. In fact, if one didn’t notice the mountains converging on all sides, one might think they were truly back in South. The Irmas, on the other hand, are charged with running a local agriculture technical school and thus live in much more modest, pragmatic housing. That said, without a maintenance staff to help upkeep the property, the nuns (even the oldest one who is over 85) are doing quite an impressive job growing a wide range of plants (flowers, vegetables, fruit, etc) around their house.

Amanda and I decided to first visit the Padres in order to walk around and stretch our legs, enjoy the views, and have a progressive picnic lunch. Getting off the chapa at the main throughway, you have to walk a good half mile through the tree-lined property even before getting to the Padres’ housing. The main buildings stand in the middle of nowhere like a welcoming oasis for the weary traveler. The whole complex is overseen by less than 5 catholic priests, but needs the large sleeping capacity mentioned above because it functions as a convention center for all sorts of groups that want to meet without all the distractions of a big city (but still with running water, electricity, and the whole works to keep you comfortable).

After checking in with the cooking staff (all the Padres had left for the afternoon), we explored the grounds, hiking around, climbing trees, and snacking here and there on our fruit. The whole afternoon was a pleasant temporary escape from the “tough life” of Mozambique and left us both refreshed and smiling from ear to ear.

Me hanging out in a very sticky, sappy tree behind the Padres'

Amanda looking chique in her natural environment :-)

Amanda and I goofing around

Looking up at the Padres' forest of Eucalyptus trees

After finishing up our quick go around at the Padres, we rumbled down the eroded red-dirt road to the more humble dwellings of the Irmas. Although the house itself isn’t much to look at, the yard is a smorgasbord of chili pepper bushes, sunflowers, corn, wild flowers, and other various veggies. All said, it has a very homey feel to it. We had a look around but, unlike at the Padres, we quickly made a concerted effort to try and interact with the owners of the house. Unfortunately, all but one of them (the eldest) were out for the afternoon attending the same Easter related activities that the Padres had gone to at the nearby Catholic mission. After some searching, we stumbled across the one remaining nun at work in the yard, busily weeding the plant beds with her garden hoe swiftly swinging back and forth. Looking up surprised from her work as we approached, she was kind enough to excuse herself from her labor, welcome us in, and entertain us for a bit with some stories and snacks. Loving the food and stories about the good old days (she arrived in Zambezia in the 50s), we ended up staying late, not leaving until around till 4pm. Setting up shop at Milevane’s ONE roadside store, we sipped on some Cokes (they really are everywhere in the world!) waiting for a chapa to pass by. After 30 minutes or so, we decided that we might as well start walking along the road towards Nauela in case a car wouldn’t be coming any time soon (rides at this time of day are few and far between).

Amanda throwing back a coke while waiting for the chapa-that-never-would-be to come.

Singing Disney theme songs as we skipped our way towards Nauela, I’m sure we were quite the spectacle! It started off all fun and games, however, pretty soon the sun crouched low behind the distant mountains and it started getting cold. We ended up having to walk most of the way back home to Nauela before finally catching a ride for the last leg with the rest of the Irmas who were coming home from the Easter celebration. They were initially confused by why were we out in the middle of nowhere, walking alone, in the dark in the dark no less… but when they heard that we were actually coming back from having tried to visit them, they were very apologetic and accommodating when retracing their steps while taking us back to my house in Nauela. Thank God for their help!

Arriving back home with some time to spare before needing to head to bed, we decided to make a some banana bread for the next morning to accompany our cups of tea which we’d be sipping while waiting for Amanda’s chapa out of Nauela. Standing next to the impromptu double dutch oven watching Amanda check whether the banana bread was done yet or not, I couldn’t help but secretly hope for an Easter morning miracle where by some stroke of luck no chapa would be passing through tomorrow… One can hope can’t they?! I’m not going to hold my breath though :-P

Sunday April 4th, 2010 – Easter Sunday!

Rolling wearily out of bed to silence the loud twang of my watch’s alarm, I sadly realize that morning has already come and thus it’s time to get up and wish Amanda a safe journey home. The watch held true, going off promptly at 6 am, and only minutes thereafter Amanda and I are both up and moving about. I am preparing a pot of vanilla tea while Amanda scurries around the house making sure that all of her stuff had been gathered and packed away in her travel sack. The warm tea coupled with the banana bread (which had cooled overnight into a firm, but still moist final product) creates a dreamy combination which easily fights off the cool morning breeze cutting across the front veranda. Two cups of tea and an entire banana bread later (a key to avoiding the creeping guilty feeling of eating all that is NOT remembering how much sugar and oil went into making it!), we are still waiting for a chapa to pass by and it begins looking like my wish from the day before might be coming true.

Having finished our breakfast and being able to easily hear approaching cars, we decide to retreat back inside my house and spend our last moments together looking over various photos on my computer of my friends and family back home. As always, looking at photos lends to telling stories and almost immediately we dive into our memories, fishing out tales of those we had to leave behind when coming here to Mozambique.

I am in the middle of a story about my dad, brother, and I going to Manatee Springs, prompted by a certain photo album, when all of a sudden I hear an approaching chapa rumbling down the road towards Moloque. I was a little slow to react and, to make matters worse, the car was coming fast. Sprinting out of my house and stumbling across the yard, I am just barely able to flag it down as it passes while Amanda scrambles to gather her stuff and run out behind me. Handing over the backpack, helping her up, and then waving goodbye, my adrenaline rush doesn’t begin to wear off until the chapa has turned the corner.

In only a moment’s time it hits me. Watching the turned-up dust being swept away in the wind, I am suddenly floored by the realization that I am all alone (again!). It seems that goodbyes are always tough here in Mozambique, but this time it is that much harder because I hadn’t even had the time to put up my shields against this nuclear explosion of loneliness.

In some way it seems like the whole goodbye scene had never even happened, like it was just some bad nightmare and I’ll wake up at any moment with Amanda still sleeping soundly, just a shout away. The colors too real and the pain too great, I quickly know that this is no dream. Walking the 30 feet back to my door, I don’t even make it into the house before I start crying. The real sobbing, though, lets loose when I get into my room and am able to cover up my face with a pillow to drown out the sounds.

Cradling the soft supportive cotton against my face, I cry and cry for what seems to me like forever. Not just because I miss Amanda (which I did!), but because I miss everyone and everything all at once. I cried for my siblings, my parents, and my church family at home. I cried for my friends who I missed terribly… Ricky, Ronak, Chris, Carmen, Evie, Laura, Galo, Otto, Serge, Lauren, Idris, Eban, Dani… the list goes on and on. I cried for medical school, Streetlight, and ASP. I cried for the Florida beaches, the Appalachian mountains, and beautiful paved roads that so easily connect the two. I cried for the Gators, tailgates, and road trips. I cried for macaroni and cheese, sour patch kids, and Half Baked Frozen Yogurt. But possibly most importantly, I am crying because being removed from all these things makes me face how far I had drifted from God. How I have tried to fill that hole in my life, that hole that can only be completely filled by God, with all those other things which have been ripped away from me when coming here to Mozambique.

While slowly letting my sobs come back under control, an unexpected knock comes at the front door. “Michael, you gotta pull yourself together!”, I think. Wiping the tears from my eyes and clearing out the snot from my nose (not a pretty image I know, but crying isn’t an elegant action!), I walk out of my room and find Janeiro at the front door with Verlosa curiously peaking over his shoulder (no doubt both wondering what on earth was causing all that crying!). I try to explain that the crying was coming from me, that everything is ok, and that I am just lonely. All these thoughts, though, do nothing but reopen the temporarily patched flood gates holding back my tears. I feel bad for Janeiro who is looking on in amazement as this 6 foot, bearded man is standing before him balling his eyes out. I have so many thoughts running through my head that I’d like to explain to him, but I can’t find the words in English, much less Portuguese.

Recovering from their initial surprise, they try their best to reassure me, saying that I should passear more often, especially on holidays, because 2 years is a long time to be away from friends and family. Okay. Good point. Fair enough… Their immediate solution to me crying, however, is for me to close the house door and spend time reflecting by myself (initially that seems crazy, to be alone when feeling lonely, but maybe that IS what I needed…). I was too emotional to perhaps see the wisdom in their suggestion and thus refuse, insisting that I need to get cleaned up and go to the combined Easter church service in Mehecane that I just recently reminded myself about.

Even though I miss out on some good self-reflection time, I am glad I made the long bike trip to Mehecane. I arrive at the church late into the service, but of course am immediately escorted to the front row even while insisting that I’d be ok in any spot. That said, I don’t fight the special treatment too much because I secretly have hopes of getting some recordings of the various hymns today. Sitting in the front row facing the church leaders, I am a little hesitant to pull out my mp3 player (that my family sent me from the states as a Christmas present… Thank you so much!) to record the songs, but when I look across the main aisle and see a woman holding a big, old tape recorder, I figure that I’ll be okay with my much more discreet mini-recorder.

The one drawback to being so close to the front was that, when there was a large group of singers, the noise sometimes overwhelmed the mp3 player’s cheap microphone. In the end, I’m in Africa and I have to make do though, right? I tried my best to edit the clips afterwards to make the sound quality better and uploaded the 10 best music clips to the music player a little ways down on the blog’s right hand side (you can see it if you go to my actual blog website http://gatorinmozambique.blogspot.com/ ). I hope you all get a chance to check it out, if you haven’t already, and let me know what you think (sorry in advance for the subpar audio quality… I tried!) In case you are wondering, songs 5, 8, and 9 are from my home church here in Nauela and the subject of all 10 songs (due to the fact that it was an Easter service) are about being thankful for Christ’s resurrection.

After the service, I am able to talk with Pastor Vicente again and invite him to send a representative from Mehecane to the Lurdes Mutola pre-training meeting on May 15th where we’re going to select 25 people for the upcoming coaches training in Nauela. He quickly agrees and promised to have his suggestion to me by the week’s end.

Walking out of the church’s entrance and not quite wanting to go back home yet, I decide to climb up to the top of the nearby hill and take the following pictures (I hope you enjoy):

Mehecane with Mount Malapa in the background

Some inscriptions in a tree back from the mid 90’s… not too common here

A crazy huge spider whose web I almost ran into!

A panoramic view of Nauela from the hill near Mehecane. My house is on the far left, near the school, hospital, and administrative post. Meanwhile, the market/commercial area is on the right near Mount Nauela. Also pictured is the large white catholic mission on the right a little outside town.

A panoramic picture with Mehecane in it. Probably looks similar to the panoramic I took from the top of Mount Malapa because the two spots are relatively close.

Then, coming back down from the mountain, going through the village, and heading home I take these:

The main corridor in Mehecane lined with Eukaleptus trees.

The house where the former American nurse used to live. Notice the solar panel mounts that are now vacant. It used to be pimped out by Mehecane standards!

Mehecane’s União Baptista church that told 10 years to build.

A woman filling up her cup from the never ceasing stream of water coming directly from the spring on Mount Malapa (3 kms away)

Two men on their way back towards Nauela from Mehecane after the Easter service.

Wednesday April 7th, 2010

In Mozambique, people are always looking for a reason to party… I mean, even more than the rest of the world! Seriously though, they weren’t happy with just celebrating International Women’s Day, nor were they satisfied with the addition of an African Women’s Day…. No, no, they found it absolutely necessary to ALSO have a Mozambican Women’s Day! To their credit, most places in Mozambique only go out of their way to celebrate the latter, but still…

So what is Mozambican Women’s Day really all about here in Nauela? Well it can be summed up in the following: a bunch of women partying it up well into the night, at least partially buzzed by the local brew of fermented corn, dancing with babies capulana-d their backs. Don’t get me wrong though… I’m not hating on the women. Far from it actually! I mean, by the description above, it seems that almost every other day of the year must be Mozambican Men’s Day! That is, minus the responsibility of the men having to take care of the baby while celebrating!

To dress the aforementioned partying up a little, the local authorities held an official ceremony in the early morning where various community groups performed via dance, song, and theater. A local group of women did the singing, the primary school took care of the dancing, and the secondary school’s JOMA group performed a theater piece.

The JOMA theater group posing for a picture before the start of the day’s festivities with me pictured in the back middle

The local women’s group singing

Here’s the local women’s group pictured from above. Ok, ok… they did some dancing too!

The primary school students getting ready to go on… sweet outfits, huh?!

The JOMA group performing their piece about the theft and the judicial system [so pertinent to the day’s theme right ;-)]

After the morning’s festivities, the theater group got together and elected the 3 students who will be going as local representatives along with Professor Macua and myself to Quelimane for the JOMA conference at the end of next week. Exciting!

Thursday April 8th, 2010

Despite the fact that many of you back at home have commented to me that I seem SO busy, some days I find myself doing very little in the form of “work.” Today is one of those days! Sitting in my house having just finished washing my clothes and sweeping the house (no easy tasks mind you!), I see my neighbor Wiado relaxing on his front porch and decide to go pay him a visit. Plopping down alongside him and chatting for a while, things quickly grow silent (I think Mozambicans love just sitting in silence with others sometimes…). In an effort to break the perceived awkwardness, I propose a bike trip to passear a little before dark (I’d been wanting to climb Mount Nauela again sometime to take some pictures)...

Wiado thinks about it for a bit and then agrees, suggesting we go down to Eiope to a “big rock” instead though. I assume this means some sort of mountain, so even though it’s not exactly what I originally had in mind, I am all about exploring somewhere new. 45 minutes of strenuous biking/walking later and we find ourselves heading down into a valley with no mountain in sight. “What have I got myself into!”, I am thinking. Suddenly, we pull off the trail into the yard of a random house along the way and, what do you know, turns out it’s the home of Afonso, the father of Beljour (one of the students who was just elected to go to Quelimane for the JOMA conference). Wiado informs Afonso that we are headed to the “big rock” and, without missing a beat, he starts leading the expedition right where we left off, albeit on foot.

Walking down the trail quickly turns to jumping down the trail as I notice that the small twinges of pain I am feeling with increasing frequency are due to the THOUSANDS of small ants crawling across the path luckily these ants bite, but don’t cause an inflammatory response). Then, before I even know what’s happened, we are there. The Big Rock! As it turns out, the big rock is no mountain at all, but rather a huge monolith that stretches for miles and is the home of one of the main local tributaries of the Moloque River. Cool… just not what I was expecting.

Wiado and Afonso at the Big Rock with the small creek in the background

Wiado and Afonso getting ready to serve up some sugar cane

Having made it to the Big Rock and picked up some sugar cane along the way (the trip was worth it afterall!), we drop Afonso back off at his house and start on our way back home. Without advising me otherwise, Wiado takes an unexpected turn off the main trail and starts barreling down a much smaller, overgrown path. With little other choice and fully trusting his judgment, I follow his lead without objecting. When we finally came to a stop in the flat river beds, Wiado turns around to me and proudly proclaims that all this (pointing with his hand at stretching fields of corn, millet, rice, and pinto beans) is HIS machamba.

Wiado with his rice field in the background

Unfortunately, we can’t stay for too long because the sun is already tucking itself beneath the distant mountains to the west, but I am glad that I got to spend even a little time with Wiado in his element :-)

A panoramic sunset shot taken just outside of Nauela on our way back into town

Friday April 9th, 2010

Surprise! Early this morning, before I even have the chance to sweep my house and take a bath, none other than Florentino from IBIS (long time, no talk) shows up at my front door step unexpectedly and invites me out to Mitxaiane for another training with the area school advisory council.

The trip goes pretty well. Everyone is there and ready when we arrive. The meeting is short, sweet, and to the point. During the meeting, one thing that catches my attention, though, is the diversity of the council members. There are several women representatives (not all that common in other power circles here in Mozambique) and people from all different economic levels. Pretty cool…

Florentino starting the meeting with the school council members

One of the head women members gobbling up the discussion topics

When gauging the economic status of someone here in Mozambique, a good indicator is often how one covers one’s feet. Here are three people sitting next to each other on the council who probably are in very different financial situations (barefoot, flip flops, dress shoes).

Florentino connecting really well (as always!) with the crowd

Saturday April 10th, 2010

Today I am finally able to convince Manifez, the owner of my house’s nephew, to hike up Mount Nauela with me to take some pictures. Enjoy!

Me with Nauela pictured behind me. See how the main road snakes around in the shape of an “S”? The buildings right above my head and alittle to the left is the market. My house is 3 kilometers from there toward the horizon. BTW, I think I look pretty sexy!

A panoramic picture of the snaking road/town that is the administrative post of Nauela.

Standing on top of Mount Nauela and turning around towards the southwest, you are greeted by this distant view of Milevane. If you look closely you can even see the agricultural school run by the Irmas (center left, below the lowest point in the mountain range) and the convention center/monastery of the Padres (towards the right, directly under the tall mountain).

While Manifez and I are enjoying the views from the top of the mountain, I stumbled across some old bullet cartridges in the rock’s crevices (see picture below) that have been left behind from the civil war back in the late 80’s. As I’ve said before on this blog, Nauela was a hot spot for fighting during the war and Mount Nauela was actually a base for many of the area soldiers. Although the mountain had been booby-trapped during those years, a group of demining experts came through the area many years ago and supposedly cleared the area of any remaining mines. Now, these bullets are some of the only tangible remembrances of the hardships of the not too distant past.

When I get back home and start talking about the hike, specifically upon mentioning the bullets, Verlosa runs into her house and pulls out some of the old Mozambican metacais used back during that same time period(pictured below) to show me. Although this might seem like a bore to many of you at home, for someone whose family used to collect coins, it has always been interesting for me to see old money… For example, this photographed bill is from all the way back in 1986 (ancient by Mozambican standards… also it’s coincidently the same year I was born)… I mean, just think about all the hands it’s gone through and everything that’s happened in Mozambique and in the world during its lifetime as a printed bill… the end of Mozambique’s civil war, the fall of the Soviet Union, the discovery of the HIV/AIDS epidemic, the reconstruction of the country, etc… Crazy!:-)

Sunday April 11th – Friday April 16th, 2010

For me, some weeks here in Mozambique are huge successes and others… well… I feel like I am shooting myself in the foot every time I step outside of my house. In case you couldn’t guess, this was one of those weeks! A week requiring all of my flexibility and patience...

It all started on Monday when Rocha, my FGH counterpart, for whatever reason doesn’t show up again in Nauela as he was supposed to. I try to contact him, but of course his cell phone is turned off. My pulse quickly picks up and my head is filled with steam. Fed up with the situation, I try resolving issue through a series of text with our supervisor in Quelimane, but I end up even more upset/disappointed when the official organizational response is for me to just wait till the next FGH meeting at the end of the May (a month and a half away!). A few days later I try to go to Moloque to print out permission slips for the JOMA conference and try to meet up with Rocha to smooth things out, but give up after waiting outside my house for 4 hours for a chapa that never shows up (honestly I don’t think there’s ever been a 2 hour stretch during the day when I chapa hasn’t passed my house going to Alto Moloque, but of course today had to be a day of trials… Gah!). The next day I’m able to make it to Moloque, printing out the permission slips, and actually accidently meet up with my counterpart. But still, does it always have to be this hard?!

One good thing that has come about this week has been a cold front that has pushed the temperatures down into mid 60’s (I’m guessing) during the day. Probably my favorite part about all the cold weather is seeing all the locals decked out in winter clothes. Here I am walking around comfortably in a tshirt and pants and I’m constantly passed by people layered up in ski jackets, sweaters, and such as if the next ice age is quickly approaching.

Saturday April 17th, 2010

To the relief of everyone, the cold front has finally lifted. According to the general population in Nauela it’s now safe to leave one’s house in normal clothes again and not having to worry about frostbite ;-) How do I know this? Well I am actually able to tell before even stepping foot outside my front door. The house is warmer for sure, but the first thing I notice (because they wake me up!) is the up and down creaking of the nearby water pump coupled with the sounds of neighborhood children and mothers frantically sweeping their neglected dirt patios free of any leaves or twigs that have collected over the past few cold days.

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One of the neighborhood moms sweeping her patio in the early morning hours.

Verlosa, the wife Janeiro (the owner of my house), bringing back home a bucket of water from the water pump.

The morning rush at the water pump.

Sara (left), Wiado’s daughter, and Dulce (right), Janeiro’s daughter, posing for the camera while waiting to pump water. *NOTE: These two pictures were taken by Dulce and Sara, respectively, and then digitally edited by me only to straighten and crop them. They did a great job right?!

Taking photos of all these comings and goings starts a dialog between me and the owners of my house about the ultimate destination/purpose of them. I try my best to explain about sharing my stories and pictures with friends and family back home through the internet, but in a place where many people haven’t even used a computer before, it’s tough to explain what the internet or blogging is. Coming back to their original suggestively ask if they’ll ever see any of these photos as prints, a question to which I tactfully try to avoid directly answering. They are persistent, however, going on to describe how Laura, the previous PCV, took several pictures around the house and left several prints behind with them. Just mentioning the photos, you could see how much they meant (still mean) to the family. Wanting to entertain their enthusiasm and genuinely interested in the photos myself, I ask if they could show me a few…

Janeiro and Dulce smiling while showing me a collage of photos given to them by Laura.

Verlosa holding a photo of Laura and her parents near the Catholic mission when they came and visited Nauela.

Sunday April 18th – Wednesday April 21st, 2010 – JOMA conference

Traveling from Nauela on a weekend is always tricky. The early cars that normally pass through at 6, 7, and 8am are typically absent, or going to Carmano for the huge weekend market there. That said, there are sometimes unexpected rides coming through Nauela during these early hours on the weekend so one must always be prepared and hope for the best. Right?!

Traveling alone from Nauela to Quelimane is a taxing enough feat. On the other hand, trying to organize and get a group of 5 from Nauela to Quelimane, smiling all the way, can be downright cruel. This year’s JOMA Conference, however, is upon us now and demanding that we do just that. Starting early… I’m talking a suitcases packed, breakfast eaten, house cleaned, and ready to go 5 am meeting time. Phew! Let’s do it :-)

Surprising enough, it’s Sunday morning and everyone is arriving at my house on time… minus professor Macua and myself who is still cleaning up from breakfast. No worries though. Mozambican serendipity takes care of it all. Surely enough, 4 hours later no cars have passed by and everyone’s getting a little restless. Bless the student’s hearts though, their Yogi-like patience is making the wait more tolerable and we even have UNO to keep our spirits up.

The group of us hanging out on my front veranda playing UNO while waiting for the chapa

Around 9:30am a finally chapa passes and gets us uneventfully to Moloque. Upon arriving, we are then blessed enough to all get seats in a covered chapa going directly to Quelimane, albeit we have to wait until almost noon to leave from Moloque. It’s a good thing that we are in the enclosed vehicle too because the midday heat as we are passing through the horrendous stretch of road between Alto Moloque and Macuba (imagine a road that is not paved, full of pot holes, severely eroded, and has spots of deep standing water) is hardly bearable, even with the roof’s protection. The day’s long journey has us arriving at Quelimane’s IFP just in time to set down our bags and eat dinner before the opening meeting of this year’s JOMA conference…

Now, I could go through and describe all the things we discussed during the 3 day conference topic by topic, but instead I’ll just let the pictures and captions do their magic... One of my favorite parts of the conference that is unfortunately not pictured or videotaped, so I must elaborate on it, was the final night’s game of musical chairs…

Hands down, it was with a doubt the longest game of musical chairs I’ve ever played. Not because it was the largest number of people I’ve played with, far from it in fact, but simply because of the sheer amount of music that was played during each round. While most Americans are running around during a game of musical chairs only listening to the music in order to hear the moment when it stops and everyone can be first to plop down in one of the remaining chairs, our Mozambicans seemed lose track of the “purpose” of the game entirely and, if not controlled, things would quickly turn into an impromptu dance off between participants. Indeed, the PCVs operating the sound system were actually booed by the contestants if the song for each round didn’t provide at least a solid minute of dancing. After more than an hour of intense laughing and shakin’ of the tail feathers we crowned an official “winner”, but I think we were all just glad that we had gotten to witness the spectacle :-)

Anyways, without further ado, I present to you my photos from this year’s JOMA conference:

All the participants seated quietly and politely on the first day of the conference as everyone, one by one, introduces themselves

It may look like she’s busily copying down notes about some serious subject matter, but really she’s just writing down the “rules of the room” (I.e. - respect other people’s opinions, show up on time, etc) as we get things rolling

Every day we’d try to break up the sessions with some midday play time. This game was sort of like sharks and minnows, except they sharks had to hold hands. (P.S. - the guy trying to avoid all the people tagging him is Justino from Nauela)

Gabe, a Moz 13 PCV, show his strong dissent… to anything and everything

Josh, a Moz 14 PCV, flaunting his always positive outlook…

We did one of those games where the moderator reads a statement and people have to say whether they Strongly Agree, Agree, Disagree, or Strongly Disagree with it. Here’s one of the participants getting his opinions out there.

Yohko and her friend grabbing a snack between sessions. Snack time was one of my favorite times of the conference actually, not just because of the but more so because of the exchange going on between the participants.

The conference’s moderator, a medical doctor from Maputo (I think?), talking about word associations to socially-constructed gender roles.

Trying to get everyone comfortable talking about our sexuality, here we are writing down the different Portuguese and local dialect slang words for different body parts and sex terms.

Everyone getting involved while writing in some questions, comments about the day’s topics

Katie and I sharing a laugh over some group work about the different ways to express yourself romantically to your partner without having sex.

Wednesday March 31st, 2010

For the past 2 months or so I have been receiving sporadic, unorganized lessons in Lomwe from some of the area secondary school students in exchange for supplemental English lessons. Wanting more consistency in the lessons, however, I recently decided to seek out the help of someone who would act more professional. As the result of a few conversations and meetings with some possible candidates, today marked the start of my local language lessons with Professor Valerio.

In the end, I choose Valerio because he is an English teacher at local secondary school (so he can explain complicated things in English terminology) and, unlike a lot of other of Nauela’s teachers, Valerio is originally from the area (Gurue) so he speaks Lomwe fluently. He even went through a training to teach Lomwe to people as a second language (an effort by the government to preserve the country’s Bantu languages). How perfect! If that all wasn’t enough, the icing on the cake was when he surprised me by actually showing up ON TIME this morning at 7am! What a good sign of things to come! I’ll keep you updated on how the lessons come along... With any luck, I should be coming home in a year and a half speaking another language (and this time I’ll finally be getting outside the Romance languages)!

Finishing up my language lesson around 8am, I took a long, hard look at my garden and realized it was long overdue for some TLC. Several crops were either ready to harvest, or should had been in the past several weeks. Many of the corn stalks’ roots had destroyed by termites and caused the plants to die before having produced large cobs. Meanwhile, I let the okra and beets grow for too long and they were both too hard and fibrous to be eaten. Although making my own garden definitely earned me brownie points with the community, I can’t help but think that letting good food go to waste by not harvesting on time is going to be talked about and looked upon negatively.

Vanessa and some other neighborhood kids helping me shuck my corn.

Look at all my corn that I’m going to let dry before taking it to the mill and making cornmeal!

In the end, a revelation I had while reflecting back on the process of my initial garden experiment was that (in all the activities I do in life, not limited to gardening) I oftentimes get caught up in the process of just doing an activity and forget all about the purpose of it. Indeed, I had been so eager to implement my recently acquired permaculture skills that I forgot all about the practicality of a home garden. I was setting myself up for failure, I mean, why do I have nearly 40 eggplant sprouts ripening in my garden when I don’t really like to cook with eggplant that much?

It’s a tough pill to swallow, but I’m learning my lessons… little by little.

Thursday April 1st, 2010 – Marks 6 months since arriving in Mozambique!

Sometimes I feel like Nauela is so far removed from the earth’s comings and goings that I need to remind myself that there are tons of things going on around the world without me even realizing it. In fact, things can start to blend together so much that I am hard-pressed to even remember what the day’s date is, much less what is going on in the U.S. some 4000 miles away. Thanksgiving, St. Patricks Day, President’s Day are all days that slip through the cracks here in Nauela... but thanks to PC admin not today… Happy April Fools Day!

The realization that today was, in fact, April Fools Day came after reading an official PC admin text informing us that Michelle Obama would be coming to Mozambique in 3 weeks and that my site was being strongly considered as one of her destinations during her time in country. Without too much scrutiny, the text seemed pretty legit and left me wondering what it would be like to have the First Lady come visit my site. The possibility seemed remote, but even as a pipe dream it was a welcomed thought. In the end, a lot of the PCVs got all excited and sent the PC admin staff members text messages outlining why Michelle should be sure to come to THEIR site. Although most PCVs had their suspicions by midday, it wasn’t till later in the afternoon that the PC admin came out and let us know for sure that we had all been duped. Although it was a little sad to get our hopes up, the joke definitely fooled us…

If waking up this morning and going through the whole Michelle Obama ordeal wasn’t mentally stressful enough, also weighing heavily on my mind was the thought that Chauchane and I had originally scheduled a Lurdes Mutola meeting today with the community leaders. That said, when I talked to him on Monday he assured me that the meeting was actually going to be on the 10th and not to worry. I tried to argue with him, but he insisted that the meeting was the following week and, since I wasn’t actually present at the meeting with him and the Chefe, I had to take his word for it. To complicate matters, the Chefe do Posto was in Alto Moloque till late last night and thus I didn’t get to confirm things with him until today, the morning of the supposed meeting.

Walking back and forth in front of the administration building several times this morning, I noticed a large crowd of community leaders gathering outside. Stealing glances as I walked, I whispered to my friend Wilson about how I hoped those people weren’t gathering for the Lurdes Mutola meeting. Slowly passing by while the Chefe do Posto addressed the crowd I couldn’t overhear the topic of conversation, but the fact that no one acknowledged me meant they weren’t talking about something I should be involved in, right?! WRONG! Just moments after arriving back home, the Chefe sent a messenger requesting my presence at his house to find out where the heck Chauchane and the LMF were. When I arrived, I told the Chefe about the date confusion and he quickly sided with me, insisting that he also understood it to be today and that he had already gathered more than 40 community leaders to attend the meeting.

Without waiting an instant, the Chefe and I called the LMF office in Gurue and, quickly realizing his mistake, Chauchane ended the conversation insisting that he’d be there ASAP. It already being 11am, assuming that he wasn’t prepared to leave immediately, and the fact that he was still in Gurue, we knew that even ASAP meant 2-3 hours of waiting (not a big deal to the Chefe and I because we live so close, but a lot of the community leaders come from FAR away on foot or bicycle). We all waited around for a little more than 2 hours but in my opinion it was definitely worth it!

The meeting went really well (Chauchane is a pretty smooth talker) and the LMF made up for the late arrival by providing a snack for everyone at start of the meeting and a lunch/dinner at the end. In about an hour’s time, Chauchane outlined who Lurdes Mutola is, the history of the foundation, and the specific project that the foundation is going to implement in Nauela. The meeting concluded with us asking all the community leaders to invite a handful of area young adults to a meeting on May 15th to talk more about a training to teach them to be youth soccer coaches … I’ll let you know how it goes.

The most memorable/flattering part of the meeting for me was when Chauchane explained my presence to the community leaders. In 5-10 minutes, he detailed all my interactions thus far with the foundation, from how we met in Gurue, getting together in Alto Moloque for my first meeting, contacting him earlier this week with the correct date/time for today’s meeting, and generally how much persistence I had in bringing the LMF to Nauela. Looking out at the crowd’s smiles, my heart melted and I was SOOO happy to have made all the effort that had gotten us to that point (maybe I am making a difference afterall!). I hope I never forget the feeling!

Friday April 2nd, 2010 – Good Friday!

Coming away from the Lurdes Mutola meeting, I was rewarded for my efforts by waking up this morning feeling exhausted and sick to my stomach. I tried to go to the Good Friday church service, but was only able to sit through a few minutes before I was forced to go home and rest. I made an extended trip to the bathroom, took a nap, and then went outside to sit with Janeiro, the owner of my house, and get some fresh air. I was starting to feel a little better (albeit still not that great), but weighing heavily on me was a nagging feeling of loneliness.

Sitting next to Janeiro with my house obstructing my view of the street, Vanessa called out to me from across the yard that Amanda had just arrived! I didn’t believe it at first, but just as I got up from the chair there she was coming around the corner of my fence with a smile from ear to ear. I don’t know if I’ve ever been so glad to see someone! Sick and alone in a foreign country you always want to be near someone you know and trust, having Amanda with me all of a sudden was so unexpected though and so AWESOME!

Although biologically I still probably wasn’t 100 percent, for the rest of the day while we chatted and caught up, I felt great, lifted up by her presence. After sitting down and catching our breathes, Amanda informed me she wouldn’t be able to stay for long (she had to leave on Sunday morning), but that we could do our best to have a great time in those 48 hours… We’ll see how it goes :-)

The internet for all of northern Mozambique and most of eastern Africa has been knocked out for 4-6 weeks because the underwater fiberoptic cable was accidentally cut by a ship's dragging anchor (at least that's the rumor). So no more blog updates for a while... I will be able to talk to you via another phone service provider with the phone number 258844096351 or 258842038733. Please try not to worry too much though. I'm doing great :-)

P.S.- In case you were wondering, I was able to make this update via a special, one-time only use of satellite internet thanks to a nice NGO...

Sunday March 21st, 2010

The group of Moz 14 health volunteers started pouring into Nampula early Friday afternoon for the reconnect conference. Still hours away, I began receiving texts like “On my way to the hotel, where are you?” or “I can’t believe you’re not here yet”. Indeed, with or without me, the recently placed Moz 14 PCVs were picking back up friendships formed during PST as if we hadn’t been separated for more than a long weekend (in reality most of us hadn’t seen each other since leaving Namaacha in early December).

While the majority of PCVs had already arrived, I was stuck on the road inching my way closer and closer to Nampula on an open back chapa. Surrounded by 10 other Mozambican travelers, everyone remained relatively quiet and introverted due to the deafening wind that drowned out all other sounds. Not used to this solitude (the mountain roads around Nauela don’t usually permit cars to go that fast and thus talking over the wind isn’t an issue), I made an attempt to befriend my closest neighbor on the chapa, Daniel. As it turns out, Daniel lives and works in Macuba, selling snacks and drinks at the chapa stop. After a few minutes of going back and forth, he said that he might even recognized me from a few months back (apparently seeing a tall, lanky white guy riding local transportation doesn’t happen every day).

Sporadically throughout the 3 hour car ride to Nampula from Moloque, we chatted about where we were going, what we’re doing, etc. But as soon as the chapa stopped to let us all off, I quickly forgot all about my new friend. Jumping down off the chapa, I was overwhelmed by the number of taxi drivers offering to take me to my final destination. Not knowing Nampula that well, I didn’t want to get lost. At the same time, however, I also didn’t want to pay an arm and a leg for the last leg of my journey! Looking around confused, Daniel innocently approached me and offered to accompany to my hotel and assured me that it was on the way to his place. I quickly took him up on his offer and before I knew it we were on an inner-city chapa charging through downtown Nampula toward the hotel. Even though Daniel still had a ways to go before he got to his house, he got off the chapa with me to accompany me all the way to the hotel entrance and in return I gladly paid his 5 met chapa fare. After a crazy afternoon that seemed to go on forever, Daniel and I finally parted ways in front Hotel Lurio firmly shaking hands with me promising to say “Hi!” and buy a snack from him the next time I pass through Macuba (I don’t care what other people say… so many Mozambicans are SO nice!).

Turning away from Daniel, I was brought back to reality by the hotel lobby that stood before me overflowing with the familiar faces of fellow PCVs. Together at last! As a reward for sticking it out thus far I feel, PC hosted the conference in the relatively new, three-star Hotel Lurio located in downtown Nampula. Arriving from the United States, I’m sure you wouldn’t be particularly impressed with the hotel’s little amenities. After having lived for the past 6 months in Mozambique (especially the 3 most recent being in a rural town), however, I was almost awestruck by its luxuries (i.e. - A/C in the rooms, hot running water, meat at every meal, and best of all… unlimited wireless internet access)! What a great place to get have some meetings and hang out with some friends :-)

The first day of the conference, Monday, we listened to each other share our successes and challenges (ie failures!) thus far at our sites during formal sessions and informally over meals. Some people complained of too much structure in their job with their assigned NGO and others (like myself) reeled off stories about a complete lack of structure and almost absence of NGO support. It was productive to hear other PCV’s project ideas, but it was also a venting session long overdue for most!

In Service Training, or IST, was not simply a time to vent and share, it was also a time to review and expand on some of the trainings that we briefly covered in PST now that we’ve integrated into our communities and have seen what it’s really like at site. One of the main themes of the conference was monitoring and evaluation, or M&E. In fact, we spent almost a full day in a half talking about the importance of M&E, different ways of how to do M&E, how to incorporate M&E in to your work as a PCV, and how to report your data back to Peace Corps (sounds fun, right?!). We also spent a good amount of time talking about Organizational Development, or OD, and covered a bunch of other housekeeping issues, such as safety and security, PCV health, the future of PC Mozambique, etc.

Participating in all these meetings at the conference, however, didn’t mean we were about to miss the opportunity to go out and enjoy each other’s company. As a matter of fact, after the first long day of meetings, a group of 15 or so of went out to a nightclub about a block away from the hotel. We should have known it wasn’t the best situation when we arrived and there was a crazy line waiting for us outside. The group had made up its mind though and Greg, a PCV built like a diesel engine (but with one of the kindest hearts you’ll ever meet), helped force us through the crowd and inside. Once we were in, I was surprised by how it wasn’t too packed and there was actually some space to move around and dance. We quickly formed our own little bubble and had fun dancing it out while managing to keep the sketchy Mozambican guys from harassing our fellow female PCVs.

Amanda and I having fun at the night club in Nampula

We had arrived at the club a little after midnight and before we knew it, my watch was showing it was already 2am. Realizing that we had to get up early for the next day of meetings, we started rounding up people to go home. When we had finally gotten the majority of the group together, we left the club and found our way back to the hotel relatively uneventfully. Upon arriving, however, we were greeted by some distraught PCV friends of ours who were part of a smaller group who had left just moments before us and had gotten robbed on the short walk from the club to the hotel. As it turns out, the thieves threatened them with a brick and a broken glass bottle but only managed to take some money and a cell phone before being chased off by a good Samaritan who was driving by in a car. Although there was some material possessions lost, we were all very thankful that no one got hurt!

The night finally wrapped up around 4am, having everyone safely back at the hotel and in their rooms ready for bed. Waking up 2 hours later was tough, but staying awake for the next day of the conference was the worst part. Needless to say, there weren’t anymore late night adventures for me during the rest of IST. (In fact, a few of us didn’t even set foot out of the hotel again until we were leaving Nampula to head back to our sites… I mean, who needs to when you’ve got great food and company inside!)

Wednesday March 24th, 2010

Let me just step back to the last post and clarify that waking up at 6am is never fun, but it’s even worse when you have to say goodbye to people that you likely won’t see again until MSC next January and maybe never again after that. That said, while eating breakfast and saying my goodbyes, my emotions were mixed because I knew that Amanda was coming back with me to make her first visit to Nauela (actually my first visit from any PCV) and I couldn’t wait to show off my site to her!

After throwing back a small breakfast, Amanda, Josh, Julia and I jumped in a PC car that was headed to Quelimane and would be able to drop Amanda and I off in Alto Moloque on the way. The boleia left around 8am, meaning we should’ve gotten to Moloque with plenty of time to spare in order to catch a ride back to Nauela before sunset.

After an hour and a half of driving, however, the PC car got a flat tire in the middle of nowhere and we quickly pulled off the road, coming to a stop under the shade of a small tree (thank God for whoever planted that tree 10 years ago!) “Not the worst situation”, I thought, “Now we get to jump out of the car and stretch our legs for a bit and be back on the road in no time…” True, but that all changed when the driver went to switch out the tire and discovered that the spare was popped too (Gah! Can nothing be easy here?! ). Looking around at each other for a while, we eventually agreed that the driver could hitch a ride to the nearest town to patch the tire while we all stayed behind and looked after the car.

Having left Nampula at 8am in a private vehicle, we should have easily arrived in Alto Moloque before 11am. Due to our little tire mishap, however, we pulled up to the city chapa stop shortly after 3pm, luckily just as a chapa was pulling away for Nauela. (Thinking back on it, I’m not sure whether or not, if we had missed that chapa, we would have had to sleep in Moloque till next morning or not. Either way, fortunately we didn’t have to worry about it!)

We got to Nauela in a little over an hour after an uneventful chapa ride and from the moment we arrived, jumping down from the chapa, we were welcomed by neighbors excited to see the newcomer. After all the hoopla, we didn’t even make it into the house before Florentino showed up on his way back into Moloque inviting Amanda and I to come with him to Mitxaiane tomorrow around 9am. Even though Amanda was really hoping to enjoy some R&R while in Nauela, she could tell that I was excited to show her around and thus gave me a nod, letting me know that she’d be up for the trip.

Thursday March 25th, 2010

Amanda and I woke up early this morning in order to eat and be ready by 9am to go to Mitxaiane with IBIS. Much like the last time I went with Florentino though, Amanda and I enjoyed the predictable Mozambican tardiness and had a lazy morning sipping on tea and coffee.

When the IBIS car finally showed up around 11am, it was already packed with people who I had yet to meet. Squeezing Amanda and I in the back seat, I introduced myself to the uniformly-clad strangers and quickly discovered that they were all members of a theater group in Moloque, called AJUDE, which has a partnership with IBIS.

The day was fun, filled with a good mix of meetings, food, and play time. Although there was a lot going on, the purpose of the day’s work was to meet with the leaders of the school advisory council to help define their role when working with the school.

One of the local school council members giving a presentation on his understanding of the discussion.

While most of the teachers (there are only 4 at the primary school in Mitxaiane) and school council members were in meetings, the kids were entertained playing games with the theater group members and Amanda. The kids, girls especially, absolutely flocked to her! It made me so happy to see how they welcomed her and how she accepted and matched their enthusiasm, playing alongside them.

Amanda being surrounded by all the elementary school girls as she walks up to the playground

Amanda being pushed by all her newfound friends!

Me pushing the doubled up girls on their new swing set. Notice that they made the main structure (minus the rope) from local materials…

During designated breaks in the meetings, the AJUDE group performed two different pieces, one about caring for the environment and another about the importance of getting tested for HIV (Most of the plays were in Lomwe, so granted that my understanding of the plays was limited to common gestures and random Portuguese words thrown in here and there).

Getting all the kids organized to watch the first play.

Florentino introducing the theater group to the students

An actor pretending to be working in the field during the first play about taking care of the environment

A captivated audience

They think it’s funny!

On the ride home to Nauela, I got Magdalena’s number (one of the leaders of the theater group) and promised to contact her about the possibility of bringing some members of their group to Nauela for a troca (de experiencia). She seemed pretty excited about the possibility of teaching others theater techniques and I know that it’d be beneficial for the Nauela group. I’ll talk with FGH about providing some transport for them to and from Nauela one day and we’ll see what ends up happening...

Getting home at the end of a long day, Amanda and I rested, cooked up some dinner, and went for a short walk before calling it a night. The next day, however, she finally got her wish: a morning spent chilling, hanging around the house, followed up by an afternoon bike ride through town to the market with the dual purpose of buying some small necessities and chatting with people in the community.

Hanging out around the house playing the guitar with the owner of my house’s grandson looking on.

Picture of sunset from the road on the way to the market

Saturday March 27th,2010

The only bad thing about having someone come visit your site is eventually having to say goodbye. After a few days of hanging out and enjoying each other’s company, the time finally arrived when Amanda and I had to part ways. The good news was that at the last minute Amanda found a friend of hers from Morrumbala, Bern, who was coming through Moloque from Nampula on the exact day she needed to leave. The bad news, however, was that we were having a hell of a time finding a chapa into town in order for her to meet up with him on time.

For all of you who have talked to me here in Nauela, this one’s for you! A picture finally capturing me in my Mango tree courtesy of Amanda! This is me trying to contact Bern to let him know about our chapa problems.

When the chapa FINALLY came barreling down the road, I decided to jump onboard with Amanda to accompany her into Moloque to make sure she didn’t have any (more) trouble meeting up with Bern and selfishly wanting to milk a few more hours out of her visit,

The open-back chapa to Moloque was packed with people and cargo that made the relatively short and smooth ride a little uncomfortable. After 10 minutes on the road, the driver took pity on us by offering up the 1 remaining spot in the front cab to us. I insisted that Amanda take it and she hesitantly obliged. When we stopped to pick up the next passenger a few minutes later, however, Amanda flung open the cab’s passenger-side door and came flying back to the empty spot she had left next to me just moments earlier in order to spend the last moments of her visit with me.

At the time it was quite a moving gesture (it actually made my day!). But when crossing the airfield on our way into Moloque, her selflessness was taken to another level when the rolling-in storm clouds finally let loose. As it turned out, she had not only given up a comfy seat, but also one that would have kept her high and dry through all of this (a definite plus for someone who is about to travel all day!). Amanda was quick to react to the incoming rain though, pulling out her camping towel to cover us. When the drizzle turned into a sudden downpour, however, any effort to shield ourselves from the rain was futile.

Weeks later, while revising this entry, I can still vividly remember the look on Amanda’s face as we huddled under the small towel hysterically laughing at the ridiculousness of it all while the soaked, ill-humored Mozambicans simply stared… these are the moments you LIVE for, right!? On that note, if any of you reading this have a story you’d like to share on my blog, especially related to traveling/experiencing another culture, please email me at mtudeen@gmail.com and I’ll try to include it on a new Guest Speakers page I’m starting up…

In a matter of minutes, Amanda and I had gone from baking in the sun just outside the city to completely soaked getting off the chapa in front of the district hospital. Ironically, the rain stopped almost as soon as we jumped off the chapa, but not before having done its damage. Things fell into place like timework after that. No sooner had we settled down in front of the hospital than Bern sent a text message letting us know he had just arrived in the city. The goodbye was quick and sad, but at the same time it was good because all the sadness was rooted in the fact that we both had had such a good time together (I can’t wait for my next visitor!)…

After Bern’s car disappeared around the corner with Amanda waving goodbye through the back window, I found myself suddenly alone in Alto Moloque with no definite plans. Should I just hop on another chapa and retreat back to my empty house in Nauela? Or should I take advantage of my trip to the city and visit a few people to temporary get my mind off my loneliness? Sitting at the chapa stop contemplating this, feeling pretty empty after having just said goodbye to Amanda, an AJUDE group member passed by and invited me to their meeting later that day. I took the invite as a sign and left the chapa stop to kill some time before the theater meeting.

Looking at my watch, I noted that I had almost 2 hours before the supposed start of the AJUDE meeting (I knew better than to assume the meeting would actually start on time though!), so I decided to call up Melissa, a fellow Moz 14 health PCV, and meet up with her at the district hospital with theVinhane group. After talking with Melissa for a bit and observing the meeting, I pulled the group’s president, Anna, aside to ask if her and a few members would be interested in coming out to Nauela to help us teach mom’s of malnourished childrenhow to make “papas enriquecidas” (something the Vinhane group already does at the district hospital). Anna seemed pretty interested in the idea and said she’d talk with FGH to arrange a date when they could come out.

The Vinhane meeting ended up going on for longer than expected (after discussing a number of issues they still had to sit down and analyze a local weekly radio broadcast about HIV), therefore I had to leave before early in order to make the supposed start time with the theater group. As it turned out, the meeting for AJUDE was actually a rehearsal for Monday’s performance at the district hospital (FGH had asked them to present a piece on Tuberculosis prevention) and it was very inspiring to see how serious they took it and how much they got into it. Before and after the rehearsal, I talked with the group leader, Gato Preto (Black Cat is his artistic name), about arranging a date for them to come out to Nauela to train the local JOMA theater group. Gato Preto liked the idea and sounded optimistic about being able to find a date in the near future for them to come out if we could arrange the transport and food. We’ll see…

By the end of the AJUDE meeting the sun was already hidden behind the distant mountains and it was quickly getting dark. I knew that I’d be stuck in Moloque for the night, the only question was where I’d end up sleeping. Luckily, Kate (a Moz 13 education PCV) was at her house by herself (her roommate Gina was traveling for the weekend) and was quick to accept my company. On the flip side, I also welcomed her company (not only because she was kind enough to open up her house to me) having just said goodbye to Amanda and not wanting to go home to a suddenly empty house. The evening actually turned out great because, since Gina was gone, I didn’t even have to sleep on the floor!

Sunday March 28th, 2010

The open-back chapa to Coming back to Nauela from Moloque on the first chapa of the day, I had plenty of room to spread out. That said, the morning dew had made the truck’s bed slick and muddy and thus I opted to perch myself on the truck’s rim. I’d been in this position many times before, holding on tight for dear life as the truck rocked back and forth… not fun! We had just crossed over the Malapa River and were going down the home stretch towards Nauela, however, when something abnormal happened.

What exactly took place next is a blur. Reflecting back on it, I can still remember looking across the truck bed at the passing scenery, listening to my MP3 player, and thinking about how peaceful the chapa ride was going. I must have unknowingly loosened my grip from the railing for a split second exactly when we hit a small pothole in the dirt road. The jolt sent me up into the air and my body reacted by pulling me back toward the railing. I over shot my target and sent all my body weight flying towards the ground below. Luckily, my reflexes were faster than my thoughts, allowing me to catch myself by pinning my doubled up body against the in and outside of the truck without even comprehending what had just happened.

In an instant, hands from fellow passengers came from all directions, grabbing hold of my arms and shirt. I heard the cobrador in the distance scream for the driver to stop, but by the time he got the urgency of the message and slowed to a halt, my fellow passengers were able to pull me back to “safety” inside the chapa. I sank down to the dirty truck bed floor in embarrassment, but had the decency to remember to thank everyone around me profusely for their help.

Monday March 29th, 2010

Although my counterpart from FGH has only shown up in Nauela once in the past month and a half (don’t get me started!), the one good thing about being partnered with FGH is the car the mobile hospital staff brings with them on Mondays that is free to shuttle me around if I have any work that needs to be done. Today I was hoping to make it out again to the Padres and Irmas in Milevane to talk about a few project ideas and Joakim, the FGH driver, was quick to oblige. Although the majority of the Padres weren’t there, or were busy, I ended up meeting at length with Irmas over a small lunch. When I had first arrived in Nauela 3 months ago, I had tried to introduce myself to the Irmas, but none of them were home. Well as it turns out, there are 5 of them (3 from spain, 1 from Portugal, and 1 from Mozambique) living together in a large cottage and they collectively run an agricultural school down the road in the rural town. All of them were very nice and welcoming to me, offering up lots of stories about the previous PCV, Laura, who they had all grown very close to (especially near the end of her service).

When I got back into Nauela in the mid-afternoon, I called Chauchane from the Lurdes Mutola Foundation in order to get stuff ready for upcoming Lurdes Mutola meeting on April 1st. But when I finally got a hold of him, he insisted that the he and the Chefe do Posto had agreed on an April 10th meeting date. Having not been there for their meeting and the Chefe do Posto being out of town, I had no choice but to take his word for it and make our plans for the 10th.

Sunday March 7th, 2010

The day after our unanticipated early arrival in Gurue (when we were actually supposed to be making our way back to the city after hiking up Mount Namuli), Noemi, Yohko and I slept in on Aditi and Camille’s comfy beds, nursing our aching bodies. My calves and quads were sore, but it was the lingering tendonitis in my left knee that was overwhelming (that said, I feel that I came away from the hike the best of the group because I didn’t get any blisters!). Even though the sun had long ago risen, I rolled away from the window and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to milk a few more minutes out of the calm, peaceful morning. A moment later, however, that tranquility was abruptly shattered by the next door neighbor, deciding that (it being 7:30am and all) it was high time for some partying, flipped on his stereo and cranked it up to full blast.

Soon following the rude awakening, we collectively stumbled out of the bedrooms and were surprised to find Camille slaving away in the kitchen making some wonderful, home-cooked blueberry pancakes! After a lazy morning snacking on the pancakes as they came hot off the skillet, we wandered through the city a little before bidding each other farewell at the chapa station. Noemi and Yohko were lucky enough to almost immediately find a chapa heading south that was ready to leave. They jumped onboard the exiting chapa and sped off, leaving me behind staring at the only chapa slated to head east toward Alto Moloque which was looking quite empty.

After nearly an hour of waiting by the vacant truck, the driver took pity on me and informed me that (if I couldn’t already tell) the car wouldn’t be leaving any time soon so if I wanted to walk around and come back in a few hours, he’d surely still be there. Noting that I had nothing better to do, I aimlessly left the chapa stop and started meandering around Gurue, admiring the beautiful surroundings. After 30 minutes or so of wandering, I was reminded of the missionaries in town, the Fosters , that the visitors in Mehecane had told me about a few weeks earlier. After asking around about their whereabouts, I made my way over to the school where I was told their house was located. A guard was on duty at the school’s gate and after only a little apprehension permitted me to enter the school compound. I’m not sure if he thought I’d get lost, if it was something just to occupy his time, or if just didn’t trust me, but he insisted on accompanying me all the way through the compound to the missionary’s home.

Stuart Foster was on the front porch when I showed up with the accompanying guard. Surprised, he gave me an odd look, but then greeted me heartily and dismissed the guard after finding out that I was a local Peace Corps Volunteer. Alerting the family, his wife, Sindia, was quick to join us with some fresh squeezed lemonade and peanut butter cookies (YUM!). My visit lasted most of the early afternoon, but seemed to go by in a flash. I let on that I was very intrigued to hear their history here in Mozambique and they were kind enough to oblige by sharing several of their stories that they’d amassed over the years.

As it turns out, the Fosters arrived in Mozambique back in 1986 (the same year I was born!) and have been living in here ever since (now, that doesn’t mean they haven’t left the country in 24 years, but they usually only make it back to the states every 4 years or so). In fact, with the country’s population distribution heavily weighted toward youth (due to high fertility and low life expectancy rates), the Fosters figure that they have been in Mozambique longer than at least half of Mozambicans! At the same time, they have a really good appreciation for how the country is constantly changing and, thus, are constantly seeking to learn new things about the current state of the country.

Although they weren’t always based out of Gurue, the large majority of their time in country has been in the beautiful, secluded mountain town. As a result of their strong connection to the local people, they have both learned to speak, read, and write in the local dialect of Lomwe, which has played a tremendous role in their work as missionaries here in Mozambique.

In fact, Stuart’s primary project is working with the local religious organizations who are translating the Bible into Lomwe. In reality, most of the work lies in translating the Old Testament because the New Testament was translated to Lomwe nearly 40 years ago and has long been available to the area churches. That said, 40 years is a long time for any language and thus there is considerable work being done to update the New Testament translation. At any rate, there is a team of Mozambican translators who are fluent in Portuguese and Lomwe, but Stuart’s role is to come back through their translations taking into consideration the original Hebrew and Greek texts. The work is slow, but there are hopes that the full Bible will be translated into Lomwe in the next 3-5 years.

Going hand in hand with making the Bible available in Lomwe (a language that until relatively recently existed exclusively orally), the area churches recognize that it is essential to work towards building the Lomwe literacy rate. Sindia has taken this task up on her own accord and works by building up the availability of children’s literature in Lomwe.

Sipping on the lemonade and taking generous bites out of the peanut butter cookies, Stuart assured me that the living wasn’t always as cushy as this. Arriving in Mozambique during the civil war between FRELIMO and RENAMO , the couple almost didn’t even make it to northern Mozambique due to reported food shortages. They eventually got approval to travel from Maputo to Nampula, but were greeted by a reality harsher than what they had imagined. The city was packed with refugees from the war-torn countryside and, to say the very least, food was scarce! In fact, for essentials food items that you likely take for granted (i.e. bread) one’s name had to be on a list just to receive a small ration. It took nearly six months of asking around, but finally they were able to make it on the coveted list. Bringing home the first loaf, Stuart didn’t even make it through the house’s yard before his wife and daughter ran up to him and tore into the blessed manna.

Staying in Nampula, the Fosters were removed from the actual fighting of the war, but constantly felt its impact. Communication was difficult and rare within country, but possible internationally. Although they never had to, it was a comforting thought that, if they needed to, they could go to the communications center in town and place an emergency call back home to the States. That’s a stark contrast to what Mozambicans at the time had to do to communicate with one another. Every once in a while, local Mozambican friends of the Fosters would sneak behind battle lines for emergency visits home and come back to Nampula where they’d be asked to update other anxious families about their loved one’s stuck behind. Oftentimes misinformation got passed by word of mouth and people mourned the loss of a loved one they later found to be alive.

Flash forward 20 years, the civil war is long over and the arrival of mcel is well underway. Although it seems like mcel coverage won’t expand fast enough for us PCVs who are used to 3G networks everywhere we go, talking to the fosters I can see that the communication network is making leaps and bounds. It was just 2 years ago that the only way you could get reception in Nauela was by climbing a nearby mountain. I figure that since I now only have to climb a mango tree, things are dramatically improving! Who knows, maybe by the end of the two years I’ll have reception sitting at this desk… I can dream, can’t I?

I bid farewell to the Fosters after a long afternoon of chatting, promising to visit the next time I’m in town and encouraging them to hit me up if they are ever passing through Nauela on the way to Alto Moloque. Stuart walked me to edge of the school compound and gave me a firm handshake as I passed through the gate. Smiling and then looking away, I was suddenly brought back to reality when remembering the fact that I was still hoping to get back to Nauela today. Amidst hurried steps, I glanced down at my watch and I saw that it was nearly 3pm. “If I want to make it back home before nightfall I’ll have to hurry… and have some luck with the chapas,” I thought.

Passing by one of the main parks in Gurue on the way to the chapa stop, my rushed pace was brought to a halt when I noticed a large sign on my left advertising the Lurdes Mutola Foundation office. Backing up a bit for you all reading this, ever since arriving at site I’ve had the desire to start a program teaching life skills through sports in Nauela. After doing some research online and asking around, I’d learned about the LMF which does just that in the northern Zambezia districts. However, up until now I’d been unable to make direct contact with them or even find out where they are based out of. Needless to say, despite my rush, I knew right away that I had to at least make an attempt at talking to them right then… and for all my efforts I was rewarded!

The new area LMF director, Chauchane (Shaw-sha-ni), only spoke with me briefly, but was really excited about the possibility of working with me in the near future and invited me to an upcoming LMF meeting in Alto Moloque this Saturday. He might even be passing through Nauela on the way and be able to give me a ride! We’ll see how it goes…

In the end, I only spent a few minutes with the LMF and got back to the chapa station with the chapa, predictably, still filling up. I’d like to say the chapa ride home was something special or exciting, but for the first time in a long while, the ride home was smooth and relatively uneventful. How boring… ;-)

Thursday March 11th, 2010

Today marks the official start date of my rapaz , Bento. You can click on that link your eyes just passed by, or just continue on reading this… either way, I’ll tell you that he is basically a live-in maid, but instead of paying him money, I will buy him all the supplies he needs for school, he gets to eat the food we prepare in the house, and he gets a place to sleep for free (ie the straw mat on my yoga room floor). That last perk sounds bad (maybe it is!), but the fact of the matter is that he is sleeping on a straw mat in his current set up and having to pay to live there. So in that light, I feel that this is the better deal! Not to mention the fact that my house has electricity (when Nauela has gas to run our generator) and I’m positive that he’ll be eating better here than where he’s currently staying.

It was funny walking around my house with him today showing him where everything is located, being patient as I explained things to him and let him experiment with cooking. Hopefully things go well! I’ll keep you updated!

Friday March 12th, 2010

Well all good things must come to an end, right? I just didn’t know it’d be this soon! Only a day and a half after Bento starting as my rapaz, I had to “fire” him! Now before you get all judgmental, you need to realize that it wasn’t really much of a choice actually... Last night he had the bright idea to take several of the neighborhood girls, including the owner of my house’s 14 year old daughter, over to the local barraca to go dancing for a few hours. They left without telling anyone where they were going and, to make matters worse, they lied about it when they came home (granted the bedtime for most people in Nauela is no later than 10pm so all this happened at the ungodly hours of 8-10pm). Janiero, the owner of my house, lit into Dulce, his daughter, when she got home and eventually found out what had actually happened.

During all of this, I was up in my mango tree making phone calls (minding my own business!) and when I finally came down Janeiro was anxiously waiting to speak with me. It was a short conversation, but very powerful! Normally a calm, collected man, you could easily tell that tonight he was fuming mad. He vehemently insisted that I kick Bento out of the house immediately, but I managed to bargain to let him stay until morning assuring Janiero that I’d make him leave then. It was sad saying goodbye to Bento the next morning, but I figure that it definitely isn’t worth having Janeiro mad at me for things that someone else is doing.

Whew! Drama! Now that Bento’s gone hopefully things won’t be weird between me and Janiero… Regardless, though, I still need/want a rapaz! I’ll be on the lookout for better prospects over the next few weeks and let you all know what ends up happening.

Sunday March 14th, 2010

So the meeting this weekend with the Lurdes Mutola Foundation went really well! It started off rough, the number I had in my phone for Chauchane wasn’t right, so I never got to confirm with him whether or not I would be able to get a ride with them. Not wanting to risk missing the meeting, I ended up having to catch a ride into Alto Moloque on Saturday morning on a chapa and ask half a dozen people once I got to Moloque just to find out where the meeting would be held.

Ultimately, I found Chauchane waiting outside the local elementary school all smiles to see me (maybe it gave me some validity because so many people here in Mozambique make plans with you, but then don’t fulfill them!) During the meeting (it was with the area coaches that LMF has already trained), I sat in the back of the room and watched as the new director introduced himself to the coaches and spent the rest of the time hearing their concerns/complaints and responding to them. There was a lot of mention about the breakdown in communication between the foundation and the coaches after the training was complete and they were sent off to implement the method. Glancing around the room and making eye contact with me, Chauchane assured them that, under his watch, things would improve.

Sitting there in the audience witnessing all that was going on during the meeting, I felt a rush as I realized that this could be an opportunity for me to make a very tangible improvement on the way the LMF operates with their monitoring and evaluation. After the meeting let out, my presence was rewarded with some time to sit down and talk with Chauchane about a possible partnership between LMF and FGH. Parting ways after 20-30 minutes of talking, we agreed that he’d meet with my FGH supervisor down in Quelimane the follow week and we’d arrange a meeting with the leaders of Nauela in the next month in hopes of soon having a training for coaches in Nauela.

By the time the meeting was over and I had made a quick run to the market to stock up on food supplies, transportation had practically slowed to a halt and thus I wasn’t able to find a ride back to Nauela before sunset. As I was giving up my search for a ride, however, Professor Macua pulled up to the chapa stop on the back of a friend’s motorcycle and, when finding out that I’d be in Moloque for the night, invited me over to eat with him, his wife, and his brother. I gladly accepted and was rewarded with a nice, free meal (a dried fish sauce served over xima) and some interesting conversations about U.S. history (they know so much!).

Tuesday March 16th, 2010

After a brief return to Nauela, here I was coming back into Alto Moloque on Monday evening for a meeting with World Vision, the district Agricultural Office, and Vinhane (the PLWHA group at the Alto Moloque district hospital) all on Tuesday morning.

The meetings with World Vision and the Agricultural Office fell flat. I got oneof those “Thanks, but no thanks” responses after offering them my help with any projects they might have going on in Nauela. The meeting with Vinhane, however, was informative and went pretty well. The purpose of the Vinhane gathering was to make and teach others how to make “papas enriquecidas” , which can increase calorie consumption amongst populations with high dietary needs (babies, HIV positive individuals, etc). There were a number of participants who were interested to observe the process of making the papas and a lot more to eat the final product. After the food preparation, I talked at length with the president of the PLWHA group about the possibility of sending a few of the group members out to Nauela to teach some people out there how to make the papas and she seemed excited about the possibility. Since Vinhane is sponsored by FGH and FGH makes weekly trips out to Nauela, it shouldn’t be too hard to find a day where we can make the program a reality…

Finishing up with the Papas Enrequecidas program around 10am, I still had some time to kill before having to head back to Nauela. Thinking about other resources in Alto Moloque, I remembered IBIS , a Danish education-based NGO, where I had used the internet weeks earlier. Already dressed for the occasion with a spiel in mind, I figured I’d go and formally introduce myself to them, offering my services if they were looking for any partners in the Nauela area.

This go around the meeting went really well! (It pays off to keep trying, huh?!) Daniel, the director, almost immediately agreed that we could work together and introduced me to one of the organization’s community development specialists, Florentino, to talk about the details of our partnership.

Florentino and I met for only a few minutes, but during that time he informed me that he was slated to make a trip out the Nauela area tomorrow to visit an elementary school that had just completed an IBIS-led training a few weeks prior and was due for a visit to see how things were going. I quickly accepted his invitation to join him on the visit and, with this in mind, we left a lot of the partnership discussion for the next day’s adventure. At any rate, Florentino told me that when we get to the school I can see what IBIS has been doing, talk with the community/school leaders and see what they think still needs to be done, and then try to formulate a plan about where I fit in.

Typing this all out, I’m not really sure what to make of it all. Melissa (the Moz 14 Health PCV in Moloque) expressed her concern that I might be getting myself in over my head trying to work with all these organizations, but I figure that I’d rather be a little stressed by the amount of work than bored because I feel like I’m doing nothing. We’ll see… starting tomorrow!

(On a small, unrelated side note, Nauela has had electricity for a few hours every night ever since the start of February. Yay! It’s such a stark contrast from January when the town only had 2 or 3 days of energy during the whole month… I hope everyone is keeping my supply of electricity in their prayers… I mean, f it wasn’t for that I’d be even less communicative with you all back home than I am now!)

Wednesday March 17th, 2010

Today I woke up bright and early, my mind filled with hope and excitement about the field trip with IBIS. Moving around my house with a purpose, I did a quick yoga routine, took a bath, got dressed before taking some time to sit down and eat breakfast while waiting for Florentino to show up. Well 9am (our agreed upon meeting time) came and went and before I knew it, my wrist watching was letting me know that it was almost 10:30! “Gah! So frustrating!” I thought to myself. And I had such a good feeling about Florentino from the day before too… oh well! I had nothing else pressing to do at the moment though so I figured I’d wait it out a little longer and see if he came around.

Sitting on my front porch reading as it approached 11am, I heard the faint buzzing of a car in the distance, but I stayed intent on reading, not wanting to get my hopes up. As the car neared, I could hear the engine slow and only then did I look up from my book to see Florentino waving at me to come join him. I jumped in the car alongside him and we were off, making our way out towards the partner elementary school in Metxaiane (Me-Chi-Aan-Ee).

Driving as we talked, Florentino, unprompted, jumped right into what IBIS been doing in Metxaiane with the elementary school and community. IBIS is currently implementing a project called “escolas felizes” or “happy schools” , where they are trying to improve the overall education experience of the student and thereby reduce the number of dropouts at selected model schools. The hope is that after a number of schools have become “happy schools”, neighboring schools will mimic at least some of the practices and the knowledge will spread throughout the area school system. As fortune has it, IBIS led a training in Metxaiane just a few weeks earlier and the purpose of today’s visit was to monitor the school’s progress since. Ultimately, Florentino needed to see how the school’s different projects were coming along and if the local leaders needed any specific guidance regarding any one project in particular.

Upon arriving in Metxaiane, Florentino had very specific expectations of what tangible improvements he would see at the school. Projects that IBIS encouraged them to do at the training included: building a perimeter to mark the school’s boundaries, creating designated play areas where kids can enjoy themselves and be creative, building a school library where kids can read the books provided by IBIS, building more classrooms to accommodate more students in more space, starting a school machamba to both teach and help feed the students, and implement interactive methods of teaching.

Although the school hadn’t finished all the projects yet, most of them were well underway and Florentino and the community leaders were all looking very pleased with the results thus far. Have a look at some of the pictures below and see what you think for yourself:

The elementary school in Metxaiane with the new school building pictured on the left.

Some older students playing soccer on the recently cut field.

The students cheering behind their new soccer goal.

The students pouring back to school through the school's newly constructed fence.

Some kids taking a break near the recently planted cassava plants in the school garden.

A group of young girls enjoying some of the books provided by IBIS.

Enjoying swinging on the newly constructed swing set.

Some kids trying to play volleyball. It's tough, but they are having fun learning!

Before leaving Metxaiane for the day, Florentino and I sat down with the school advisory council and a few of the teachers seeing what needs they felt still weren’t being met. After talking for 30 minutes or so, we agreed on working on three small trainings: environmental and personal sanitation (latrine construction/usage, hand washing, and general cleanliness), permaculture, and an introduction of children games geared toward involving both sexes that require little or no materials that need to be brought in. I’ll let you know how they end up going!

Friday March 19th, 2010

Well I’m off to Nampula for the first time since the supervisor’s conference back at the beginning of December. The Peace Corps has a thing called reconnect or IST where all the other first year health PCVs gather to talk about how things have been going during the first 3 months at site. I’m excited to hear about other’s experiences, share my own successes and express my frustrations. I also can’t wait to see all the other PCV’s (especially the 7 health PCVs who are flying up from south)!

***A quick note for all those of you who are reading this blog from the comforts of your inbox. I would encourage everyone to please take the time to go visit the actual gatorinmozambique website and see all the updates I've made. I uploaded some cool new graphics, created new stand-alone pages within the blog, and even put up some music in Lomwe from the Easter service (all of which you don't see from your inbox). It's a work in progress for sure, but I hope you all get the time to enjoy it!***

Activista – A volunteer associated with the health care system who is typically compensated minimally for their time and efforts. These people are community members who are often recruited from the local group of HIV patients and can almost always speak the local dialect (thus relating well to other people undergoing HIV treatment). They help out around the hospital, visit fellow HIV positive community members, give health education lectures, and also seek out people who have abandoned HIV treatment.

AJUDE – A nationally recognized association with local chapters spread throughout the country. Each chapter has a self run theater group which performs pieces on various health topics. The chapter in Alto Moloque is very active, meeting everyday M-F for an hour or two with occasional meetings on Saturdays and Sundays.

Alto Moloque – The closest big city to Nauela, located about an hour and a half East at the intersection with the country’s main highway, the EN 1.

Barraca – Any neighborhood open-air bar. To the untrained eye, they may simply appear to be a stand with some gin and beers being sold, but when night comes around and the music flips on, something magic happens! ;-) In all honesty, it is actually rather intriguing the first time walking past a barraca, but any normal barraca will typically have the same soundtrack blaring from its blown out speakers late into the night, weeks on end… and it gets old… fast!

Boleia – A car ride from a personal vehicle. Can be free or the normal chapa rate.

Chapa – The typical short-distance mode of transportation in Mozambique. A chapa can manifest itself as an enclosed van or an open back truck. Regardless of the form, they are always packed tight with passengers and produce an endless amount of stories for their patrons.

Empregada(o) – A maid that is compensated with cash and may or may not live on the premises. The typical monthly wage for a full-time maid is only between 500-800 metacais (~$17-$27)

EN 1 – Mozambique’s main highway that runs North-South mostly along the country’s coastal regions.

FRELIMO (A Frente de Libertação de Moçambique)– Formed during the fight for independence during the period of colonialism. It has been the dominant party in Mozambique ever since winning independence from the Portuguese.

Gurue - The closest big city West of Nauela, located about 2-3 hours away via chapa. The city is an agricultural mecca that is in a fertile valley filled with tea bushes and surrounded by beautiful, towering mountains.

IBIS – A Danish NGO in Alto Moloque dedicated to furthering development through improvements in education.

JOMA (Jovens para Mudança and Accão)– One of PC Mozambique’s main outreach programs for young men and women. Has yearly regional conferences where high school students in the groups learn about HIV/AIDS and other health topics and then get trained in areas such as theater, journalism, photography, art, etc. Each group chooses what area, if any, they want to focus on and then use that medium to communicate positive health messages to their local communities.

Lomwe - The predominant local dialect in the Northern Zambezia area.

Lurdes Mutola Foundation – A famous runner from Mozambique who established her own foundation here in 2001 to encourage young Mozambicans (particularly females) to participate in sports. The organization works to train coaches to better teach life/health skills through sports.

Machamba – A garden or field where people plant corn, beans, millet, etc.

Macua – The predominant local dialect in the Nampula area. Also can be a nickname for people who are from that region and speak the language (ie my local counterpart Professor Macua).

Malapa – The name of one of the mountains 3kms West of Nauela. The river bearing the same name starts at a crystal clear spring on the mountain, but then quickly turns to a muddy mess by the time it works its way towards the city of Nauela.

Matapa – The sauce made from the leaves of a cassava plant.

Mcel – Mozambique cellular. The more dominant of the two cell phone service providers in Mozambique. Mcel’s ubiquitous yellow tint is seen everywhere… on building, signs, even people! You see, most people here in Mozambique use cell phones through a pay-as-you-go service (rather than having a contract) and thus there are people decked out in mcel yellow at every street corner trying to force feed you credit for your phone.

MDM (Mozambique Democratic Movement) – A rising third party candidate in the national elections this past year.

Mehecane – The origins of the União Baptista church in Zambezia. Located just outside of Nauela about 4kms to the NW.

Metxaiane (Mee-tchai-ah-nee) – A community located in the Nauela administrative post with an elementary school that is collaborating with IBIS to become a “Happy School.”

Milevane – The beautiful rural town that is home to the Catholic Padres and Irmas, located just 20 minutes West of Nauela toward Gurue. The Irmas run a basic agricultural school there and the Padres operate a large, scenic hideaway that routinely hosts conferences and individual travelers.

Mount Namuli – The second highest mountain in Mozambique located just outside the city of Gurue.

Mugema - A small neighboring town of Nauela on the way towards Alto Moloque. Located at the intersection of roads going to Nampula, Alto Moloque, and Gurue it has a lot of transportation movement and thus has built up a very large market with farmers selling their products directly and cheaply to the passing cars.

Nampula – Mozambique’s second largest city (behind Maputo) and the name of one of Mozambique’s 11 provinces. While not a port city, it sits at the intersection of three roads leading from large ports on the way into the heart of southern Africa.

Nauela – One of 2 administrative posts in the Alto Moloque district (the other being Alto Moloque itself). Has a rich agricultural history and thus was the site of much of the civil war battle sites. Also my home for the next 2 years!

Papas Enriquecidas – A calorie enriched porridge made with corn meal, peanut butter, oil, eggs, and sugar. You can all make variations by adding various ingredients (i.e. ground pinto beans) or leaving some out if you can’t get it all. In the end, the porridge simply should be dense in calories and easy to consume/digest.

PLWHA – People Living With HIV/AIDS

Quelimane – The capital of the Zambezia Province. Proud home to the FGH Zambezia office (among many other NGOs), my PO Box (send me mail!) and some of the worst roads you’ll ever find ANYWHERE. Near the ocean and flat as a pancake, Quelimane is the perfect home for a unique profession: the bike taxi. Try it and you’ll love it!

Rapaz – It is a fairly common practice amongst Mozambican workers (without a stay at home family member) to have a young boy who acts as a live-in maid at their house. The boy isn’t typically paid money, but instead, benefits by living closer to school and being provided with all the necessary school supplies (ie uniform, notebooks, pens, etc).

REDES (Raparigas En Desenvolvemento Educação E Saúde) - One of PC Mozambique’s main outreach programs for young women only. Has yearly regional conferences where female high school students in the groups learn about health topics such as HIV/AIDS, the reproductive system, and sex education and get trained in areas such as career selection, income generation, art/culture, and community volunteering. Each group chooses what area, if any, they want to focus on and then use that medium to better promote the role of the female in Mozambican society.

RENAMO (A Resistência Nacional Moçambicana)- The national minority political party behind FRELIMO. Fought against FRELIMO during the civil war, but lost.

Sena- The predominant local dialect in the Northern Sofala (ie Beira)/Southern Zambezia area (ie Morrumbala).

Vodacom – An international newcomer to the cell phone service scene in Mozambique, it still remains the less dominant of the two cell phone service providers in Mozambique. That said, it is already being regarded as a stiff competitor as it expands its service coverage area.

Xima – The most common carb of choice amongst Mozambicans. It can be made from ground corn, millet, cassava, or sweet potatoes by just adding hot water and stirring. It will sit in your stomach like a brick and tastes pretty good topped with any number of sauces.

Zed – The infamous Gin that is widely drank across Mozambique. Empty bottles of this are routinely used by children as toys and/or water bottles. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to seeing a 8 year old boy taking a deep swig from a Gin bottle (even if I know the clear liquid inside is only water)!

Sunday March 7th, 2010

The day after our unanticipated early arrival in Gurue (when we were actually supposed to be making our way back to the city after hiking up Mount Namuli), Noemi, Yohko and I slept in on Aditi and Camille’s comfy beds, nursing our aching bodies. My calves and quads were sore, but it was the lingering tendonitis in my left knee that was overwhelming (that said, I feel that I came away from the hike the best of the group because I didn’t get any blisters!). Even though the sun had long ago risen, I rolled away from the window and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to milk a few more minutes out of the calm, peaceful morning. A moment later, however, that tranquility was abruptly shattered by the next door neighbor, deciding that (it being 7:30am and all) it was high time for some partying, flipped on his stereo and cranked it up to full blast.

Soon following the rude awakening, we collectively stumbled out of the bedrooms and were surprised to find Camille slaving away in the kitchen making some wonderful, home-cooked blueberry pancakes! After a lazy morning snacking on the pancakes as they came hot off the skillet, we wandered through the city a little before bidding each other farewell at the chapa station. Noemi and Yohko were lucky enough to almost immediately find a chapa heading south that was ready to leave. They jumped onboard the exiting chapa and sped off, leaving me behind staring at the only chapa slated to head east toward Alto Moloque which was looking quite empty.

After nearly an hour of waiting by the vacant truck, the driver took pity on me and informed me that (if I couldn’t already tell) the car wouldn’t be leaving any time soon so if I wanted to walk around and come back in a few hours, he’d surely still be there. Noting that I had nothing better to do, I aimlessly left the chapa stop and started meandering around Gurue, admiring the beautiful surroundings. After 30 minutes or so of wandering, I was reminded of the missionaries in town, the Fosters , that the visitors in Mehecane had told me about a few weeks earlier. After asking around about their whereabouts, I made my way over to the school where I was told their house was located. A guard was on duty at the school’s gate and after only a little apprehension permitted me to enter the school compound. I’m not sure if he thought I’d get lost, if it was something just to occupy his time, or if just didn’t trust me, but he insisted on accompanying me all the way through the compound to the missionary’s home.

Stuart Foster was on the front porch when I showed up with the accompanying guard. Surprised, he gave me an odd look, but then greeted me heartily and dismissed the guard after finding out that I was a local Peace Corps Volunteer. Alerting the family, his wife, Sindia, was quick to join us with some fresh squeezed lemonade and peanut butter cookies (YUM!). My visit lasted most of the early afternoon, but seemed to go by in a flash. I let on that I was very intrigued to hear their history here in Mozambique and they were kind enough to oblige by sharing several of their stories that they’d amassed over the years.

As it turns out, the Fosters arrived in Mozambique back in 1986 (the same year I was born!) and have been living in here ever since (now, that doesn’t mean they haven’t left the country in 24 years, but they usually only make it back to the states every 4 years or so). In fact, with the country’s population distribution heavily weighted toward youth (due to high fertility and low life expectancy rates), the Fosters figure that they have been in Mozambique longer than at least half of Mozambicans! At the same time, they have a really good appreciation for how the country is constantly changing and, thus, are constantly seeking to learn new things about the current state of the country.

Although they weren’t always based out of Gurue, the large majority of their time in country has been in the beautiful, secluded mountain town. As a result of their strong connection to the local people, they have both learned to speak, read, and write in the local dialect of Lomwe, which has played a tremendous role in their work as missionaries here in Mozambique.

In fact, Stuart’s primary project is working with the local religious organizations who are translating the Bible into Lomwe. In reality, most of the work lies in translating the Old Testament because the New Testament was translated to Lomwe nearly 40 years ago and has long been available to the area churches. That said, 40 years is a long time for any language and thus there is considerable work being done to update the New Testament translation. At any rate, there is a team of Mozambican translators who are fluent in Portuguese and Lomwe, but Stuart’s role is to come back through their translations taking into consideration the original Hebrew and Greek texts. The work is slow, but there are hopes that the full Bible will be translated into Lomwe in the next 3-5 years.

Going hand in hand with making the Bible available in Lomwe (a language that until relatively recently existed exclusively orally), the area churches recognize that it is essential to work towards building the Lomwe literacy rate. Sindia has taken this task up on her own accord and works by building up the availability of children’s literature in Lomwe.

Sipping on the lemonade and taking generous bites out of the peanut butter cookies, Stuart assured me that the living wasn’t always as cushy as this. Arriving in Mozambique during the civil war between FRELIMO and RENAMO , the couple almost didn’t even make it to northern Mozambique due to reported food shortages. They eventually got approval to travel from Maputo to Nampula, but were greeted by a reality harsher than what they had imagined. The city was packed with refugees from the war-torn countryside and, to say the very least, food was scarce! In fact, for essentials food items that you likely take for granted (i.e. bread) one’s name had to be on a list just to receive a small ration. It took nearly six months of asking around, but finally they were able to make it on the coveted list. Bringing home the first loaf, Stuart didn’t even make it through the house’s yard before his wife and daughter ran up to him and tore into the blessed manna.

Staying in Nampula, the Fosters were removed from the actual fighting of the war, but constantly felt its impact. Communication was difficult and rare within country, but possible internationally. Although they never had to, it was a comforting thought that, if they needed to, they could go to the communications center in town and place an emergency call back home to the States. That’s a stark contrast to what Mozambicans at the time had to do to communicate with one another. Every once in a while, local Mozambican friends of the Fosters would sneak behind battle lines for emergency visits home and come back to Nampula where they’d be asked to update other anxious families about their loved one’s stuck behind. Oftentimes misinformation got passed by word of mouth and people mourned the loss of a loved one they later found to be alive.

Flash forward 20 years, the civil war is long over and the arrival of mcel is well underway. Although it seems like mcel coverage won’t expand fast enough for us PCVs who are used to 3G networks everywhere we go, talking to the fosters I can see that the communication network is making leaps and bounds. It was just 2 years ago that the only way you could get reception in Nauela was by climbing a nearby mountain. I figure that since I now only have to climb a mango tree, things are dramatically improving! Who knows, maybe by the end of the two years I’ll have reception sitting at this desk… I can dream, can’t I?

I bid farewell to the Fosters after a long afternoon of chatting, promising to visit the next time I’m in town and encouraging them to hit me up if they are ever passing through Nauela on the way to Alto Moloque. Stuart walked me to edge of the school compound and gave me a firm handshake as I passed through the gate. Smiling and then looking away, I was suddenly brought back to reality when remembering the fact that I was still hoping to get back to Nauela today. Amidst hurried steps, I glanced down at my watch and I saw that it was nearly 3pm. “If I want to make it back home before nightfall I’ll have to hurry… and have some luck with the chapas,” I thought.

Passing by one of the main parks in Gurue on the way to the chapa stop, my rushed pace was brought to a halt when I noticed a large sign on my left advertising the Lurdes Mutola Foundation office. Backing up a bit for you all reading this, ever since arriving at site I’ve had the desire to start a program teaching life skills through sports in Nauela. After doing some research online and asking around, I’d learned about the LMF which does just that in the northern Zambezia districts. However, up until now I’d been unable to make direct contact with them or even find out where they are based out of. Needless to say, despite my rush, I knew right away that I had to at least make an attempt at talking to them right then… and for all my efforts I was rewarded!

The new area LMF director, Chauchane (Shaw-sha-ni), only spoke with me briefly, but was really excited about the possibility of working with me in the near future and invited me to an upcoming LMF meeting in Alto Moloque this Saturday. He might even be passing through Nauela on the way and be able to give me a ride! We’ll see how it goes…

In the end, I only spent a few minutes with the LMF and got back to the chapa station with the chapa, predictably, still filling up. I’d like to say the chapa ride home was something special or exciting, but for the first time in a long while, the ride home was smooth and relatively uneventful. How boring… ;-)

Thursday March 11th, 2010

Today marks the official start date of my rapaz , Bento. You can click on that link your eyes just passed by, or just continue on reading this… either way, I’ll tell you that he is basically a live-in maid, but instead of paying him money, I will buy him all the supplies he needs for school, he gets to eat the food we prepare in the house, and he gets a place to sleep for free (ie the straw mat on my yoga room floor). That last perk sounds bad (maybe it is!), but the fact of the matter is that he is sleeping on a straw mat in his current set up and having to pay to live there. So in that light, I feel that this is the better deal! Not to mention the fact that my house has electricity (when Nauela has gas to run our generator) and I’m positive that he’ll be eating better here than where he’s currently staying.

It was funny walking around my house with him today showing him where everything is located, being patient as I explained things to him and let him experiment with cooking. Hopefully things go well! I’ll keep you updated!

Friday March 12th, 2010

Well all good things must come to an end, right? I just didn’t know it’d be this soon! Only a day and a half after Bento starting as my rapaz, I had to “fire” him! Now before you get all judgmental, you need to realize that it wasn’t really much of a choice actually... Last night he had the bright idea to take several of the neighborhood girls, including the owner of my house’s 14 year old daughter, over to the local barraca to go dancing for a few hours. They left without telling anyone where they were going and, to make matters worse, they lied about it when they came home (granted the bedtime for most people in Nauela is no later than 10pm so all this happened at the ungodly hours of 8-10pm). Janiero, the owner of my house, lit into Dulce, his daughter, when she got home and eventually found out what had actually happened.

During all of this, I was up in my mango tree making phone calls (minding my own business!) and when I finally came down Janeiro was anxiously waiting to speak with me. It was a short conversation, but very powerful! Normally a calm, collected man, you could easily tell that tonight he was fuming mad. He vehemently insisted that I kick Bento out of the house immediately, but I managed to bargain to let him stay until morning assuring Janiero that I’d make him leave then. It was sad saying goodbye to Bento the next morning, but I figure that it definitely isn’t worth having Janeiro mad at me for things that someone else is doing.

Whew! Drama! Now that Bento’s gone hopefully things won’t be weird between me and Janiero… Regardless, though, I still need/want a rapaz! I’ll be on the lookout for better prospects over the next few weeks and let you all know what ends up happening.

Sunday March 14th, 2010

So the meeting this weekend with the Lurdes Mutola Foundation went really well! It started off rough, the number I had in my phone for Chauchane wasn’t right, so I never got to confirm with him whether or not I would be able to get a ride with them. Not wanting to risk missing the meeting, I ended up having to catch a ride into Alto Moloque on Saturday morning on a chapa and ask half a dozen people once I got to Moloque just to find out where the meeting would be held.

Ultimately, I found Chauchane waiting outside the local elementary school all smiles to see me (maybe it gave me some validity because so many people here in Mozambique make plans with you, but then don’t fulfill them!) During the meeting (it was with the area coaches that LMF has already trained), I sat in the back of the room and watched as the new director introduced himself to the coaches and spent the rest of the time hearing their concerns/complaints and responding to them. There was a lot of mention about the breakdown in communication between the foundation and the coaches after the training was complete and they were sent off to implement the method. Glancing around the room and making eye contact with me, Chauchane assured them that, under his watch, things would improve.

Sitting there in the audience witnessing all that was going on during the meeting, I felt a rush as I realized that this could be an opportunity for me to make a very tangible improvement on the way the LMF operates with their monitoring and evaluation. After the meeting let out, my presence was rewarded with some time to sit down and talk with Chauchane about a possible partnership between LMF and FGH. Parting ways after 20-30 minutes of talking, we agreed that he’d meet with my FGH supervisor down in Quelimane the follow week and we’d arrange a meeting with the leaders of Nauela in the next month in hopes of soon having a training for coaches in Nauela.

By the time the meeting was over and I had made a quick run to the market to stock up on food supplies, transportation had practically slowed to a halt and thus I wasn’t able to find a ride back to Nauela before sunset. As I was giving up my search for a ride, however, Professor Macua pulled up to the chapa stop on the back of a friend’s motorcycle and, when finding out that I’d be in Moloque for the night, invited me over to eat with him, his wife, and his brother. I gladly accepted and was rewarded with a nice, free meal (a dried fish sauce served over xima) and some interesting conversations about U.S. history (they know so much!).

Tuesday March 16th, 2010

After a brief return to Nauela, here I was coming back into Alto Moloque on Monday evening for a meeting with World Vision, the district Agricultural Office, and Vinhane (the PLWHA group at the Alto Moloque district hospital) all on Tuesday morning.

The meetings with World Vision and the Agricultural Office fell flat. I got oneof those “Thanks, but no thanks” responses after offering them my help with any projects they might have going on in Nauela. The meeting with Vinhane, however, was informative and went pretty well. The purpose of the Vinhane gathering was to make and teach others how to make “papas enriquecidas” , which can increase calorie consumption amongst populations with high dietary needs (babies, HIV positive individuals, etc). There were a number of participants who were interested to observe the process of making the papas and a lot more to eat the final product. After the food preparation, I talked at length with the president of the PLWHA group about the possibility of sending a few of the group members out to Nauela to teach some people out there how to make the papas and she seemed excited about the possibility. Since Vinhane is sponsored by FGH and FGH makes weekly trips out to Nauela, it shouldn’t be too hard to find a day where we can make the program a reality…

Finishing up with the Papas Enrequecidas program around 10am, I still had some time to kill before having to head back to Nauela. Thinking about other resources in Alto Moloque, I remembered IBIS , a Danish education-based NGO, where I had used the internet weeks earlier. Already dressed for the occasion with a spiel in mind, I figured I’d go and formally introduce myself to them, offering my services if they were looking for any partners in the Nauela area.

This go around the meeting went really well! (It pays off to keep trying, huh?!) Daniel, the director, almost immediately agreed that we could work together and introduced me to one of the organization’s community development specialists, Florentino, to talk about the details of our partnership.

Florentino and I met for only a few minutes, but during that time he informed me that he was slated to make a trip out the Nauela area tomorrow to visit an elementary school that had just completed an IBIS-led training a few weeks prior and was due for a visit to see how things were going. I quickly accepted his invitation to join him on the visit and, with this in mind, we left a lot of the partnership discussion for the next day’s adventure. At any rate, Florentino told me that when we get to the school I can see what IBIS has been doing, talk with the community/school leaders and see what they think still needs to be done, and then try to formulate a plan about where I fit in.

Typing this all out, I’m not really sure what to make of it all. Melissa (the Moz 14 Health PCV in Moloque) expressed her concern that I might be getting myself in over my head trying to work with all these organizations, but I figure that I’d rather be a little stressed by the amount of work than bored because I feel like I’m doing nothing. We’ll see… starting tomorrow!

(On a small, unrelated side note, Nauela has had electricity for a few hours every night ever since the start of February. Yay! It’s such a stark contrast from January when the town only had 2 or 3 days of energy during the whole month… I hope everyone is keeping my supply of electricity in their prayers… I mean, f it wasn’t for that I’d be even less communicative with you all back home than I am now!)

Wednesday March 17th, 2010

Today I woke up bright and early, my mind filled with hope and excitement about the field trip with IBIS. Moving around my house with a purpose, I did a quick yoga routine, took a bath, got dressed before taking some time to sit down and eat breakfast while waiting for Florentino to show up. Well 9am (our agreed upon meeting time) came and went and before I knew it, my wrist watching was letting me know that it was almost 10:30! “Gah! So frustrating!” I thought to myself. And I had such a good feeling about Florentino from the day before too… oh well! I had nothing else pressing to do at the moment though so I figured I’d wait it out a little longer and see if he came around.

Sitting on my front porch reading as it approached 11am, I heard the faint buzzing of a car in the distance, but I stayed intent on reading, not wanting to get my hopes up. As the car neared, I could hear the engine slow and only then did I look up from my book to see Florentino waving at me to come join him. I jumped in the car alongside him and we were off, making our way out towards the partner elementary school in Metxaiane (Me-Chi-Aan-Ee).

Driving as we talked, Florentino, unprompted, jumped right into what IBIS been doing in Metxaiane with the elementary school and community. IBIS is currently implementing a project called “escolas felizes” or “happy schools” , where they are trying to improve the overall education experience of the student and thereby reduce the number of dropouts at selected model schools. The hope is that after a number of schools have become “happy schools”, neighboring schools will mimic at least some of the practices and the knowledge will spread throughout the area school system. As fortune has it, IBIS led a training in Metxaiane just a few weeks earlier and the purpose of today’s visit was to monitor the school’s progress since. Ultimately, Florentino needed to see how the school’s different projects were coming along and if the local leaders needed any specific guidance regarding any one project in particular.

Upon arriving in Metxaiane, Florentino had very specific expectations of what tangible improvements he would see at the school. Projects that IBIS encouraged them to do at the training included: building a perimeter to mark the school’s boundaries, creating designated play areas where kids can enjoy themselves and be creative, building a school library where kids can read the books provided by IBIS, building more classrooms to accommodate more students in more space, starting a school machamba to both teach and help feed the students, and implement interactive methods of teaching.

Although the school hadn’t finished all the projects yet, most of them were well underway and Florentino and the community leaders were all looking very pleased with the results thus far. Have a look at some of the pictures below and see what you think for yourself:

The elementary school in Metxaiane with the new school building pictured on the left.

Some older students playing soccer on the recently cut field.

The students cheering behind their new soccer goal.

The students pouring back to school through the school's newly constructed fence.

Some kids taking a break near the recently planted cassava plants in the school garden.

A group of young girls enjoying some of the books provided by IBIS.

Enjoying swinging on the newly constructed swing set.

Some kids trying to play volleyball. It's tough, but they are having fun learning!

Before leaving Metxaiane for the day, Florentino and I sat down with the school advisory council and a few of the teachers seeing what needs they felt still weren’t being met. After talking for 30 minutes or so, we agreed on working on three small trainings: environmental and personal sanitation (latrine construction/usage, hand washing, and general cleanliness), permaculture, and an introduction of children games geared toward involving both sexes that require little or no materials that need to be brought in. I’ll let you know how they end up going!

Friday March 19th, 2010

Well I’m off to Nampula for the first time since the supervisor’s conference back at the beginning of December. The Peace Corps has a thing called reconnect or IST where all the other first year health PCVs gather to talk about how things have been going during the first 3 months at site. I’m excited to hear about other’s experiences, share my own successes and express my frustrations. I also can’t wait to see all the other PCV’s (especially the 7 health PCVs who are flying up from south)!

***A quick note for all those of you who are reading this blog from the comforts of your inbox. I would encourage everyone to please take the time to go visit the actual gatorinmozambique website and see all the updates I've made. I uploaded some cool new graphics, created new stand-alone pages within the blog, and even put up some music in Lomwe from the Easter service (all of which you don't see from your inbox). It's a work in progress for sure, but I hope you all get the time to enjoy it!***

This just in: my blog has received 1.5 million hits since its creation! Thank you all for keeping up on my comings and goings!

Saturday February 20th, 2010 – 2 weeks till my birthday!

This morning Marcelino, an “activista” at Nauela’s hospital, and I went to a church gathering in the neighboring community of Mehecane (Me-Hey-Kan-Ee), about a 30 or 45 minute bike ride out of town. Mehecane is a unique oasis that you can easily spot from far away, even from my house now that I know what to look for, because of the tall eucalyptus trees that line its main walkway. In a village of no more than 200 people, there are 3 water faucets with a never-ceasing stream of water pouring out onto the ground below and irrigating the nearby gardens. Many of the community’s houses are even outfitted with glass windows, tight fitting doors, and cement floors. It is a diamond in the rough to be sure, but one needs not look past the center of the town to see where all of this relative wealth comes from. Indeed, towering above the rest of the town’s constructions, only to be out done by the decades old eucalyptus trees, is the town’s Igreja União Baptista.

The small village of Mehecane has a rich history, deeply rooted in the rise of the protestant churches of Zambezia. Its running water and many of the other housing improvements, are largely funded by the donations from international religious based organizations and in the past decade, missionaries who made home in the rural village. A tremendous amount of effort has gone into making Mehecane what it is today. The running water is thanks to over 3 kilometers of piping that starts all the way at the springhead on Mount Malapa, the same mountain that Wilson and I climbed a few weeks earlier. Additionally, the town’s large religious centerpiece is a result of 10 years of construction that required the town to be very creative when hauling in materials because the roads leading up to the town are suspect at best. Despite Mehecane’s current appearance, it is still just a shadow of what it was decades ago.

Rolling into town on my bike, dripping from head to toe and panting like a dog, the first person to greet Marcelino and I was the local União Baptista pastor, Vicente. In a matter of minutes, he courted me around the entire village, eventually leading me to his house for a cup of tea. While sipping tea from his seemingly old-of-place, ornate tea set, Pastor Vicente was kind enough to entertain me with stories about Mehecane’s troubled history. Having grown up in the area and experienced its ups and down, he conveyed the story with an incredible amount of passion, pride, and sorrow. Facing the old colonial era school house pointing, he informed me that it was the only building left standing when we came back to the area after the war in the early 90’s and became the starting point for the reconstruction effort that has begin going on ever since.

I could see him reaching back in his memories as he began to recount his childhood, trying to give me a better idea of what tremendous destruction happened during the war. Before the civil war, he told me, the area surrounding Mehecane was a mecca of agriculture production (there used to be tractors, farm equipment, etc), commerce, and education (Mehecane, despite its rural location, was home to a seminary that educated most of Zambezia’s first protestant preachers). What a huge fall, but also a great recovery thus far, I thought.

As a matter of fact, Mehecane’s recovery has been largely a result of people like Pastor Vicente who have refused to give up on the community. He is a great example, yet sadly an exception, because he left the rural community to finish his education, but returned after finishing his studies to come back to help out where he grew up. And he’s far from done!

As we hungrily stuffed down our white rice and pinto beans served up for lunch, his eyes lit up with passion while talking about the plans that he has in the works for the community. A youth group that teaches kids life skills through sports and arts, an expansion/improvement of the primary school, and a woodshop to raise money for the increasing number of local orphans due to HIV/AIDS… Needless to say, I hope to be working with him in the near future.

On a random side note, and as a complete coincidence, I happened to visit Mehecane on the same weekend that the former local missionaries were back in town visiting (imagine a town of 200, in the middle of nowhere Mozambique, getting a visit from two sets of foreigners on the same day… Crazy!). Thus, in the afternoon, Pastor Vicente made sure I had the opportunity to visit with them at their old house to sit down for a while and chat. As it turns out, the two missionaries, Steven and Joanna, are from England and have two young children that they are carting all around northern Mozambique with them. They are now stationed in Cuamba in the Niassa Province of Mozambique, but are taking an extended holiday from their site to visit old acquaintances and making deliveries to some of the rural churches along the way. I briefly lamented to the them about the difficulties of learning the local language, Lomwe, and they obliged by agreeing to drop off some learning materials for me in Gurue with a missionary there named Foster. One of their side tasks while visiting the area was to provide new Portuguese/Lomwe hymnals to the União Baptista churches, so as I walked away from the meeting, I did so with a book in hand and future visit to Gurue in mind.

On our way back to Nauela from Mehecane, Marcelino continued the history lesson where Pastor Vicente left off by casually informing me that the city of Nauela used to not be known as Nauela at all. It was the colonizing Portuguese, who didn’t really understand the locals when they first arrived, who missed the actual name of the village (Muheewa) and simply named the post after the closest mountain called Nauela. Marcelino went on, letting me know that the small mountain of Nauela was actively used as a fort during the civil war. When I showed interest in all of this new information, Marcelino turned around his bike and insisted that we go up the mountain to make a quick visit. Sure enough, when we climbed to the top of the mountain we found some empty, old ammunition shells and large scraps of metal used for makeshift barracks. Marcelino, seemingly uninterested in historical significance of site, kicked at the rusted metal and tossed several of the empty shells down on the ground. We watched as they rolled off the side of rocky mountaintop to the corn fields below, and I thought to myself that it’s such a shame that a site like this is being left to waste. Regardless of his interest in the site, I know that the mountain is representative of something that had such a HUGE impact on Mozambique’s recent history (especially in this area) and I hope that the local people are able to remember and appreciate that for generations to come. We’ll see!

Sunday, February 21st, 2010 – Only 13 days till my birthday!

This morning, my church congregation visited the other União Baptista down in Eiope to participate in a joint service in order to kick off the local youth week. Great, right?! Well, yes… the only problem being that I didn’t even know about it until I showed up at my church’s doorsteps seeing it completely deserted! After asking around, I found out about the impromptu change of plans and decide to hightail it down the road to the other church. I quickly ran home, threw my bible and new handy-dandy hymnal in my day bag and jumped on my trusty “made in India” Hero bike to try and make it to the service before it started. Now let me give you a glimpse into one of my growing pains thus far here in Nauela… the perception of distance… while the trek from Nauela to Eiope may not seem long if you are in a car, or biking leisurely, but when you are peddling in a hurry (even going downhill most of the way) it is quite the trek! Oooh Mozambique!

In typical Mozambican fashion, the service started and ran late (that allowed me to get there on time but I don’t know if it was worth it because the service didn’t end till nearly 2pm!), granted it was largely because of the hassle of getting everyone crammed inside the small church and having ALL the representatives from BOTH churches sing and speak to the large audience. I usually don’t mind the longer church services, the music is beautiful and, when they go off on long speeches in Lomwe, it gives me down time to reflect. Today, however, I was hungry –my stomach said it was starving, but it’s weak- and the pastor of the home church was giving the second sermon of the day in Lomwe (the pastor of my church had already given his sermon). To make things worse, as he rambled on he showed no signs of slowing down, much less stopping. Looking back, it was probably not a good thing the think/feel, but everything (even the audience’s laughter) seemed to incite a growing annoyance that was building up inside of me. “Why can’t it just end already!”, I thought. I contemplated simply getting up and walking out of the service like so many Mozambicans do, but I figured that my departure would be more noted than that of a normal churchgoer. In the end, I kept my butt planted on the cement bench, defeated, with my mouth closed, trying to think good thoughts.

The service finally ended and the sardine-packed churchgoers poured out of the church relieved and quickly fled back to their houses to prepare a late lunch. I no sooner had left the church than had mounted my bike was off, back uphill, on the way towards Nauela. I was sailing along and felt pretty good considering everything, but about halfway home I ran into Beljour, one of my favorite students, and stopped to chat. As we wrapped up the conversation, he pleaded with me to give him a boleia . I deliberated, “GAH! Starving and having to ferry a relatively heavy boy on my bike, uphill?! No way!” Something in the way he asked me though caused a momentary lapse of rationality and I somehow agreed. Needless to say we didn’t make it too far, though I must say that I held my own for a while!

Thursday March 4th, 2010–Sunday March 7th, 2010 – Happy 24th Birthday to me!

I just got home and I can barely keep my eyes open, so I know I’ll be writing this entry over the next several days. I just want to get a few of my thoughts down before I nod off to sleep and forget some of the awesome things that happened to me in the past several days… Before I start, I just wanted to say that, I got to check the internet today and I saw all the love you guys sent me. Thank you so much! It really made my day! You are all so awesome :-) I wish I could have been in the states with all of you to celebrate, but at the same time I want you all to know that I had a great time here and if you continue reading on, you’ll here exactly what I did…

Well for some time now I have heard numerous stories about the fabled Mount Namuli located in the neighboring district of Gurue, just outside the city of Gurue . To the everyday tourist visiting Mozambique, a trip to Mount Namuli, being the second tallest mountain in the country surrounded by arguably the most beautiful, rich countryside in all of Mozambique, is a must. The mountain isn’t easy to reach, however, and is also a very important symbol in the traditional folklore/beliefs of the area thus it’s an important destination for the trailblazing explorer and/or local as well.

The night before my trip to Gurue to climb the mountain, my friend Wilson described to me how many people in the area believe(d) that all human beings can trace their ancestry to Mount Namuli. It was there, they say, that humans evolved from monkeys and later dispersed in all directions, speaking the different, yet similar, languages of the region. For that reason and more, the mountain ascent is surrounded by a shroud of traditional beliefs regarding the spirits/ghosts who live on the mountain. In fact, in order to climb the mountain, one must bring sugar, gin, and xima to the Queen of the mountain and ask for her to perform a traditional ceremony (using those three elements) to give you the right to hike up the mountain.

Chapa Time

On the morning of my long awaited birthday trip to Gurue, I woke up to the sound of rain beating down on my house’s tin roof. I’ve never heard a machine gun in real life, but I couldn’t imagine that one would be louder or faster. You see, there is no ceiling between my house’s metal roofing and the interior, so I often feel as if I’m inside a large drum when the rain is pelting the rooftop. In fact, the tremendous echoing noise within the house often misleads one into thinking that it is actually raining significantly harder outside than it really is. Regardless, it DEFINITELY was not raining lightly and that signaled that it was going to be a rough ride later in the day on the muddy road to Gurue.

By the time the late morning rolled around, the rain had stopped and the clouds directly overhead even show signs of dispersing a little to let the sun come out and dry up some of the mud on the road. The motoristas must have also been as optimistic as I because eventually they started coming in bunches from Moloque towards Gurue.

The chapa ride started fine, I might even say pleasant for the first several miles, because I got to sit down inside the truckbed on a sack of rice. Not 15 minutes outside of Milevane, however, the weather took a turn for the worse as it started drizzling, then raining, getting progressively harder as we continued along. The passengers in the back of the truckbed immediately formed an intimate bond as we found a plastic tarp and huddled closely together in the back of the open back chapa. Looking around at the faces only a foot or so away from mine, I felt like I was a kid again playing “fort”, but in an weird/awkward situation where for some reason we were all remaining silent.

So try and picture this: here we are sitting in the back of a pickup truck, covering ourselves with a plastic tarp while the rain is coming down harder and harder, when all of a sudden, the truck jerks the right, then overcorrects to the left and we’re brought to an abrupt halt in the deep, muddy roadside ditch.

The motorista tried in vain to get the car unstuck without any help, but in the end it took all the passengers getting down and pushing (along with the help of 40 or so kids from a nearby elementary school who fled their morning classes to see what all the commotion was about...) to get us out of the ditch and straightened back out on the road. Momentarily standing up in the back of the truck, I waved goodbye to the kids and took the photo below as we started up the engine and headed out. The kids were happy, we were happy, it was a one of those warm, fuzzy instants that corny movies always end on. The magical moment didn’t last too long, however, because about 100 feet down the road the truck lost traction on a muddy incline and we came sliding back down to almost exactly where we had begun moments earlier! At that moment, every person involved had their own opinion of what we should do to fix the problem, but nothing we did could rid us of Mother Nature’s wrath taking form as an endless supply of mud filling up the road. Eventually someone from above must have taken pity on us because the rain began to slow and before too long stopped all together. After the road dried a little, we were able to shovel (where the heck did the hoe come from you might ask? I don’t know!) some of the accumulated mud out of the road’s worn tire trenches and, with the help of everyone (including the school children again), we finally made it up the hill and were on our way.

The group of elementary school kids who helped get my chapa out of the mud.

I arrived late in Gurue, clothes still wet from the rain and caked in the mud, but was able to prepare a pretty schnazy guacamole mix served up with freshly baked bread before calling it a day and laying down on the esteira that Camille and Aditi set up for me on their living room floor. I know that may sound rough, sleeping on a straw mat on the floor, but looking back on it, it probably just better mentally prepared me for what lay ahead for the next several days during the hike up Namuli.

To make a long story short, we (Noemi, Yohko, and I) didn’t actually get to climb to the top of Mount Namuli, but it was still a very beautiful, albeit tiring, two day hike to the mountain’s base and back. That said, what’s fun about making a long story short?! Plus, this way you’ll have some text with all the photos I’m about to show you! So here it goes…

Noemi, Yohko and I met up with our local guide, known to all PCVs as Rambo!, just after sunrise and were out crossing the famous tea fields surrounding Gurue by 6 after having bought our 3 day food rations on our way out of town. Heading towards Namuli from the city, you pass through the tea fields via a main corridor that acts as a highway for people coming into Gurue from the surrounding countryside bringing their products to sell in the city. We hadn’t even made it halfway through the fields by the time we realized why Rambo wasn’t so worried about having enough snacks for the trip. We were constantly coming across people carrying bananas, pineapples, oranges, avocados, beans, peanuts, you name it into the city. With all the agriculture production, it’s easy to see why Gurue has grown so big (in addition to the tea company’s investments) and why the city has such a diverse and plentiful market.

A group of people coming into Gurue from the surrounding countryside. PS - the mountain pictured in the back is not Mount Namuli.

Farmers carry 50lbs bags of pinto beans into the city of Gurue.

Yohko fording a small river while passing through the tea fields.

As a side note, the tea fields seamlessly stretch out across the valley farther than the eye can see (see panoramic below), but they are actually divided by invisible property boundaries between 6 different owners. That said, the owners all pool the products together to make the well-known-in-Mozambique brand “Cha de Gurue”. Apparently, though, the Gurue tea leaves also serve as fillers for other larger tea companies around the world.

A sweet panoramic view of the tea fields just outside of Gurue.

Hiking up through the mountain pass to get to Namuli, you are welcomed into the next valley by the dark black, fertile land all those passing farmers are blessed enough to grow their crops on. A beautiful sight indeed! Once you make it through the pass, however, a bummer is the fact that the mountains block Gurue’s cell phone tower and thus for a majority of the trip I’d have to be without cell phone service (not usually a big deal, but sad because I wouldn’t have service on my birthday, thus separating myself from my friends and family back home…)

Noemi and Yohko hiking through the mountain pass.

Yohko, Rambo and I taking a break right after making it through the mountain pass.

Despite the mountain’s proximity, when you are in the city of Gurue you can’t actually see Mount Namuli. It’s not until a good hour’s hike after the mountain pass, in fact, that you get your first glimpse of the towering peak. It was such a good feeling to see it for the first time (almost a high as if we’d already climbed to the top if it)! That feeling, however, turned into one of anxiousness as the mountain seemed to always remain just out of reach, even after hours of hiking through the foothills surrounding it. As a matter of fact, after first seeing Mount Namuli it took us 5 more hours of intense hiking before we made it to base camp to spend the night. Before entering the compound, we snapped a few half-hearted victory photos of us with the mountain in the background just before it was swallowed up by the incoming storm clouds.

Noemi, Yohko and I being so happy to finally see Mount Namuli. After a long morning's hike, we thought we were so close, but we were actually so far!

Noemi and Yokho eating some cooked sweet potatoes (I think?). Trying to get those carbs in...

A community of crazy ants on a bridge we passed. They are forming a "highway" on the outside for other ants to be herded through on the inside.

Yohko and Noemi play fighting on the way to base camp. Sooo tired, yet so much longer to go!

Me resting and hanging out on a large boulder enjoying the mountain stream.

Noemi, Yohko, and I just as we are arriving to the base of Mount Namuli.

We finally arrived to the Queen of the mountain’s house just as the sun was setting (it took us about 10 hours to get to the base, while Rambo says he can usually make it in 6!). Coming up to the compound, we were greeted by an excited, red eyed, drunk man who hurried us along into the queen’s kitchen (where we’d be spending the night on esteiras laid out on the floor). We sank to the ground exhausted, letting the dirt floor absorb our burdening day packs as we all proceeded to literally pass out from the day’s taxing journey.

I woke up an hour or so later and noticed that the drunk man had left us (all passed out asleep) and my first reaction was to check and make sure all my things were still with me. I was still rummaging through my backpack when the queen finally came in and greeted us by bringing some dinner (xima made from cassava topped with a matapa sauce).

All night long the storm clouds never let up, pouring rain down on mountain. When we woke up the next morning, the Queen refused to let us climb the mountain (saying she’d feel guilty if any one of us got hurt while trying to climb the wet rocks). That said, she was very apologetic and assured us that if we came between June-August (the dry season) we’d have a much better chance of being able to climb the mountain. I think that on the surface we were all bummed to be turned away after so much work, especially right at the base of the mountain. Deep down though, we didn’t fight too hard with the Queen because we were all already extremely sore and knew we still had to make the journey back into town.

A morning look at our sleep arrangements with Mount Namuli covered in rain clouds in the back.

Yohko trying to sleep in at the base of Mount Namuli in Queen's kitchen on an comfy esteira.

In the end, things turned out for the best. We packed up camp after a quick breakfast and started toward the city in the light rain. After a few hours the sun broke through the clouds and the weather remained nice for the rest of our journey home. As we climbed back down through the mountain pass, I picked back up cell phone service and surprised several people with birthday phone calls. The last leg of the journey, making it through Gurue back to Camille and Aditi’s house was definitely the hardest past of the whole trip. We were so close and yet so far! We took breaks every 10 minutes and a leisurely walk through the city that normally lasts 20-30 minutes took nearly an hour! Regardless, I got to be in Gurue for my birthday and the Gurue girls + Kat made me a card and a cake, decked out with ICING! Despite my exhaustion, I was content and felt so loved!

Noemi, Yohko and I standing at the mountain pass with the Gurue in the background.

Looking down at the Gurue valley from the mountain pass.

Gurue is so beautiful and I am tossing in my two cents by saying that this could be there new postcards!

Friday December 11th, 2009

Some lost, but now found, pictures from the Supervisors Conference in Nampula

"Birds of Paradise only flock twice!" Josh posing on top of our Nampula hotel.

Panoramic view of Nampula City at sunset.

Saturday December 26th, 2009

(Backing up a bit to include a story that I wasn’t able to finish in time for the last batch)

I just got to my site 4 days ago and here I am already leaving town, albeit only for an afternoon. I woke up this morning at 5am, hurriedly put a scrunched-up t-shirt over my head and went out the front door, stumbling as left the house on my way to the machamba (garden). I had only taken a few steps into my machamba before I turned around when realizing that I had forgotten my work gloves back inside the house. While retreating through the front door in full stride, I ducked my head to make it in the severely undersized, 5ft doorway, but miscalculating by an inch or two, I ended up ramming the top of my head into the doorframe’s edge. Alarmed and dazed, I did all I could to keep from yelling out some expletives at the top of my lungs, biting my lip until tasting blood and wailing my closed fists against the house’s inner cement walls (it REALLY hurt!). After a minute or so, which seemed like an hour, the pain began to subside. Before heading back out to work in the machamba, however, I decided to take a seat and rest for a bit. As I sat there in my comfortable living room recliner admiring the growing bump on the top of my head, I was struck with the sudden urge to make a day trip to the neighboring city of Gurue, only 2-3 hours away by car. It would be a nice escape from the recent shock of moving into my community and a late Christmas present of sorts by getting to see all the volunteers who live in and around Gurue, I thought. Now don’t get me wrong, the trip actually had a legitimate purpose and needed to happen soon, either today or tomorrow, because the FGH driver is planning on taking me to buy a bike on Monday and here I was with no money and no bank in town.

Just a few moments later, the decision had been finalized in my head and I found myself back outside my house, in dirty gardening clothes, asking the neighbors how I could go about catching a chapa (my first one in Mozambique alone) to Gurue. The owners of my house were kind enough to not only tell me how to catch the chapa, but went as far as accompanying me to the street and waiting until a chapa passed by to help me signal that I wanted a ride. I got lucky and a chapa passed by after only 10 minutes or so of waiting and, before I knew it, I had boarded the chapa and was barreling through the mountains.

Since my trip to Gurue, I have looked through several travel guides about Mozambique and noticed that in many of them the town of Nauela is, predictably, left out. However, in a few guides it is mentioned as a nice stop along the scenic road between Gurue and Alto Moloque. One guide even went as far to say that the road is perhaps the most beautiful in all of Mozambique. While I still haven’t been to much of Mozambique, after this one trip to Gurue I can’t imagine a road that is much more scenic and/or beautiful. With omnipresent curves that make the Blue Ridge Parkway seem like a straightaway, the dirt road thrusts breathtaking views of distinct looking mountains in your face at every bend, each offering their own unique beauty. That said, while I’m sure that the trip would be nothing but pleasurable for anyone traveling in the comforts of their own private vehicle, in an open-back chapa (a quarter-ton truck that taxis people around) with 30 individuals, baggage, all topped off with a few chickens and/or goats crammed into the truck’s bed, the ride becomes somewhat less appealing!

The chapa that was heading to Gurue had left earlier that day from Nampula (4-5 hours away) and had already been loaded to the brim with people and their belongings by the time it passed through Nauela. Thus, when I finally jumped on, I had few options of where to sit, but managed to find a small space along the truck’s outer edge to plop down. Speeding along on the curvy, uneven mountain roads going between 30-40mph, I spent most of the trip jolting back and forth in fear, teetering on the 2 inch thick truckbed rim between one fate of crashing into the sardine-packed truck center and another of falling out onto the uninviting, rocky pathway racing below. I’ve been told that the drive between Nauela and Gurue normally takes between 2-3 hours, but it took nearly 4 hours today because the driver kept stopping to try to get more passengers on, even when people had already not been able to get on at previous stops. Everyone moaned and groaned when the driver pulled over to try and cram another passenger on, but I stayed quiet, secretly hoping that we could squeeze another person in and which would make it that much more tightly packed, thus making me more secure on my ledge with less risk of falling out. This desire, however, was countered by the fact that the old truckbed’s rims that I was sitting on were being held upright by two metal cords that were joined together in the middle of the truck bed by a ½ inch metal nut. Sitting there and saying a little pray, I thought to myself: “Here I am, after all the things I’ve gone through in my life, and the only thing keeping me from flying off around one of those turns is this feeble piece of metal?! Oh well… Nothing I can do now. Hopefully at least it was made in South Africa!” ;)

Looking around at the Mozambicans I was traveling with, I could tell that I wasn’t the only one a little unnerved by the rough stretches of road and luckily I didn’t have to go it alone during the whole trip. Toughing out the tight mountains curves sitting next to me was a peculiar looking man (not Mozambican) wearing a long, dark black robe and cap traditionally worn by Muslims. After several minutes on the chapa, we got to talking and I found out that he had been traveling for nearly 4 days from his home in northern Tanzania, but, as his final destination was Gurue, his trip was almost done. So even though these were cramped conditions and he was wearing heavy, black clothing in the scorching sun, he was in good spirits. In fact, after chatting sporadically with him for an hour or so, I ventured to inquire about his clothing choice for traveling and he informed me that it was actually well thought out and planned. He went on to explain to me how the long, flowing robe kept the sun off of him while still allowing a cool breeze to penetrate and keep him cool when it was hot and when it was cool it kept him insulated against the cutting wind. Additionally, the black cloth made the dirt that had been accumulating over the past 4 days (he hadn’t changed clothes since he left his home in Tanzania) less apparent and would be easier to clean when finally getting to Gurue. Definitely a seasoned traveler! Feeling the sun beating down on my folded, exposed legs and seeing the dust accumulating on my baize shirt, I was already convinced that my days of traveling in shorts and without sunblock were over.

The afternoon in Gurue was relatively calm and uneventful. I met up with several PCVs, withdrew money at the ATM to buy my bike, bought a few fruits and veggies that you can’t find in Nauela, and jumped on a chapa that got me back home just as the sun was disappearing behind the mountains to the west. The chapa on this leg of the journey actually wasn’t a chapa at all! Instead, it was a large, flat-bed truck loaded down with tons of rice and cement, whose driver was kind enough to let me ride along on top of his cargo. The return trip was really nice because I not only felt comfortable and secure, but, while lying down across the rice sacs, I was able to admire the 360 degree mountain views in the late afternoon sun as the wind blew across my face. Good finish to a long day!

Monday January 11th, 2010

This morning I woke up and ran into Olympio, the 14 year old son of Wiado (the baker who lives next door, pronounced “Why-do”), as I was going through his yard on my way to buy some fresh bread. We greeted each other with the traditional introductions, “Good Morning.”; “Good Morning!”; “How are You?”; “I’m good, but I don’t know how you are?”; “I’m good, Thank you” “Thank you!” (everyone one says they don’t know how you are doing and asks you, even if the person is addressing a line of people and everyone knows darn well how the person is doing!), but wanting to go a little deeper, I started talking about my recent trip to Gurue. In passing, I assumingly asked him if he had ever been to Gurue and quickly he looked down at his feet as he informed me that he actually hadn’t. Swiftly recovering, however, he proudly stated that once he had been to Alto Moloque, but didn’t really like the heavy-traffic, dusty city that much.

The conversation was quite a reality check for me. All this coming from an adolescent who was born and raised on the connecting road between the two large cities, each only a few hours away… I mean, here I am saying that I’m trying to integrate into the community, meanwhile everyone sees me sashaying around the province (Gurue and Quelimane), going to and fro without showing much worry of money and/or purpose. How’s that for integration :-/! In reality, I think the notion that I would flippantly go and spend so little time in Gurue is more jolting to the members of the community than the fact that I came from the other side of the world to volunteer in their village (I’ve shown some neighbors the U.S. on a world map, pointing out the size of Mozambique versus how far away my home is, but I think it’s too abstract for a lot of them to appreciate). Sitting here writing this out, I’ve been trying to juxtapose my experiences with those of my neighbors and realize the implications of my relatively frequent traveling. It was sobering at first, but has become more so after spending time later in the day with his father, Wiado…

As I was saying earlier, I was on my way to Wiado’s house to buy bread when I ran into Olympio and had the aforementioned conversation. Well, after buying several pieces of bread, Wiado invited me to go on a bike ride with him to the neighboring town of Mugema to buy some flour for tomorrow’s bread making. When I was first invited to go on the bike ride I didn’t really find it strange that we were going all the way to Mugema to buy flour, even though it is regularly sold at the Nauela market. No, at that moment I was too overwhelmed with the excitement of just getting out, exploring a little, and buying a few things from a bigger market to really think of much else.

Walking my bike up the first LARGE hill (those of you reading this from Gainesville, think Shands hill, but bigger and longer!), however, I finally began to think about how hard this journey was going to be and, in turn, question the trip’s purpose (I think our minds are trained to think about easier ways out, especially when we are struggling with the task at hand). I began to picture the Nauela marketplace in my mind and could vividly see (or was I imagining it) a large bag a flour sitting next to the young man who is always selling onions. After a few more minutes, I was sure of it. There definitely IS flour at the Nauela market! Yet here we were, going all the way to Mugema (about 5 HILLY miles away) to buy the same stuff. Vexed by all these thoughts, I began to voice my opinions out loud. Wiado laughed for a moment before agreeing with my observations, but then calmly continued on to inform me that he (and most bread makers in Nauela) bikes all the way from Nauela to Mugema to buy a 50lbs sack of flour for 390 metacais (or mets), which is 10 mets cheaper than what they sell it for in Nauela (btw, 30 mets ≈ $1 USD). His simple words crushed me and only continued to weigh heavier upon me as he went on to describe how once he has bought the flour, he then has to strap the 50 lbs sack to his bike and lug it all the way back to Nauela. Even that doesn’t paint the full picture, however, because once he finally has all the ingredients in his home, he then has to wake up at 2am to bake the bread in order to get to the market in time for the morning rush, selling a sack’s worth of bread for a profit of about 300 mets (only $10!).

After getting past all the hills and making it into Mugema’s marketplace, Wiado and I momentarily split up to do our shopping separately. I began searching for a small part for my bike and in no time at all I had found exactly what I was looking for. While handing the change over to the vender (it only cost 2 mets), Wiado came up behind me and held a small valve in his hand, saying that WHEN I COULD GET THE MONEY TOGETHER I should buy this other, more durable upgrade that costs 10 mets (can you imagine that?! The idea of having to really WORK to get 30 cents together). I was speechless, but manage to nod my head acknowledging what he had told me. I walked a few steps away from the booth dazed, but managed to choke out the fact that I was done shopping for the day and we could head home whenever he was ready.

On the way home, we got to talking about home construction in the area and Wiado informed me that a typical 4 meter by 5 meter house requires around 3000 mud blocks, each costing 1 met. It’s not hard math to see that a house costs 3000 mets, or about $100, to build (think about that next time you buy something expensive. How many houses is this worth?!) For me, this really hit home when I started thinking about my guitar, which I just recently bought here in Mozambique for 4000 mets. In short, my guitar is worth more, or at least costs more, than many people’s homes in the community!

It was a rough day, full of realizations that deepened my understanding about the financial struggles of the area. That said, it was a really good day too and I wouldn’t want it to have been any other way. I feel so blessed to have had this realization so soon into my PC experience and so happy that my relationship with Wiado seems to be growing that much stronger.

Tuesday January 19th, 2010

Today my neighborhood had an unexpected visit from an organization based out of Quelimane that led the community members in an informal lesson/discussion about how we can take charge of keeping our water pump functioning and well maintained. Observing from the side, I quickly noticed that the audience was overwhelmingly composed of women, roughly 90% of the crowd was female, and the few males that did attend stayed completely silent throughout. The purpose of this meeting was to educate and I was disappointed that the men of the community were so underrepresented. (This is a stark contrast to the second meeting that happened in early February where some paperwork had to be done and men from all over the neighborhood flocked to see what was going on, while the same women who participated weeks earlier in the discussions sank away).

This brings up the interesting, ever important topic of gender roles here in Alto Zambezia. Even though the local society is matrilineal (family heritage is traced from mother to daughter rather and from father to son), the gender roles are still largely the same as elsewhere around the world where the society is male-centered. During my short period of time in Nauela, I’ve observed that the women in the community tend to have domain over domestic matters, while the men tend to have control over monetary and political matters. Everyone has to work, there’s no opinion to just stay at home, unless you are well off. Instead, mothers have to strap their babies to their backs via a capulana sash and carry them around while they doing their daily tasks.

Friday January 22nd, 2010

I talked to my brother Bryan tonight, telling him about the organization who came and educated the community about maintaining our water pump, and he jumped in saying that an organization visited his church just this previous Sunday asking for donations to build water pumps in Africa. He went on to tell me how he can’t help but wonder how many water pumps, if any, these organizations put in and how much of a difference it makes.

Well in case you’ve ever have doubts, I can tell you this: I am now using one of those water pumps, there are tons scattered throughout the district, and they make a HUGE difference in the lives of the people in the community. Most organizations dig the wells 50-100 meters deep and this practically guarantees that people have a steady supply of clean drinking water, even during the dry season. I can’t help but compare my situation to that of the city of Macuba, Zambezia’s second largest city (I think). After visiting my friend Noemi at her site in Macuba, I consider my community so blessed to not be somewhere where people rely on well water that typically is clouded with mud.

I’ve heard stories from my neighbors saying that everyone in the community used to have to get (muddy) water from the Malapa River, which is about a mile away, and then carry to water back uphill to their houses. Now, the water pump is located right across the street (for me and my neighbors) and really quick at filling up your water containers when compared to a bucket well.

As a capstone to all this talk about water, if you choose to give money to an organization that is going to be installing water pumps around the world, I’d encourage you to research the organization to see what percentage of the donations actually go to the pump construction, how long they’ve been doing it/how many pumps they’ve installed in that time, and what is there plan for pump maintenance.

I want to draw particular attention to that last part because there are SO MANY water pumps out here in Zambezia that break down and communities have to revert back to their old, contaminated water sources because there has been no long-term plan for the maintenance of the pump. In fact, here in Nauela (a relatively urban area compared to other areas with pumps) the plan involves each family who uses the pump to pay 2 mets per month towards (in other locations it is a per usage fee of 1 met per container). Personally, I don’t think that this contribution will be enough for sustainability of our pump (because the pump will almost surely break down in the next year and parts are expensive!), but it’s a start! We’ll see how things go over the next two years. Hopefully I’ll continue to have a good water source. I mean, I complain about no/little electricity and cell phone service, but if the water pump breaks!? I’d really be struggling! In closing, please keep me and our community’s water pump in your prayers!

Saturday January 23rd, 2010

A hike up one of Nauela’s surrounding peaks has been in my mind ever since I arrived at site in late December. Recognizing that I have just completed my first month at site, I figured what better way to celebrate than to get some people together and finally climb one. After asking around to find out who was interested in accompanying me and which mountain we should climb, my friend Wilson, the preventative medicine agent at the local hospital, ended up joining me on an assent up Mount Malapa.

Mount Malapa shares its name with the Malapa River because, near the top of the mountain, a natural spring penetrates the rocky terrain that forms the headwaters of the river. Although the river is quite muddy, community members assured me that the water at the spring is clean and safe to drink (a local mission actually gets its water directly from the spring via a long tube system) and thus the spring would make a nice resting/refreshing point during the day’s hike.

After a late start (Wilson was supposed to come to my house at 7am to borrow the owner of my house’s bike, but it seems that no one here has a watch but me!), Wilson and I hopped on our bikes and made our way to a small community outside of Nauela called Rocha. Writing down that last sentence made it sound so easy that I actually laughed to myself. Trust me though when I say that it wasn’t THAT easy. No, we had to ask directions several times along the way and, because of the mountain terrain and bad road/path conditions, it took a while getting there.

One great thing about December and January in Zambezia is the overwhelming supply of mangos, courtesy of the Portuguese who lined the rural streets with them decades ago. Although they can be annoying if they are dropping out of the trees into your yard and rotting, they are such a nice, juicy, and (best of all) FREE snack. I delve into all this because along the way to the mountain, as we both started to feel the midmorning heat, we decided it best to pull off the path under the shade of a mango tree and help ourselves to some of the ultra-fresh fruit. After 3 or 4 mangos each, Wilson wandered over to a nearby house and asked a gawking woman for water to wash our hands. The woman hesitated, keeping her eyes intently on my, but after Wilson probed her a second time, she kindly obliged (people are SO generous here when you ask them for something. I’m not sure about this, but I think that many people don’t have much to give, so when they are asked to give something they have, they are excited to be able to offer it to someone else… plus it’s part of the culture too).

After squeezing our way through the narrow footpaths of Rocha, Wilson and I finally arrived at the base of the mountain, but had to stash our bikes in an inconspicuous location before starting off on our hike upward. With our bikes safely resting in a hidden trench close to the water’s edge, we began our assent, feeling pretty hardcore as we trudged through the mountain’s fields of sprouting corn and butter beans. I remember thinking to myself, “Man! Now we really are doing some exploring!”

Looking back on it, I know that I should have seen what was coming next… We had almost made it to the top of the mountain, but coming around the trunk of large tree we were greeting with the staring gazes of 20 or so people from the local community who were preparing the side of the mountain to be planted with more beans.

What an ego deflator! Not only did they climb up the mountain as if it were nothing (I’m sure they do it every day) they also got up here with a hoe slung over the shoulder and then began a long day of working in the field! Needless to say, the local farmers were quite surprised to see the two of us, especially some tall, bearded white guy, come meandering up through their recently prepared fields. We explained the purpose of our journey and at first only received blank facial expressions as a response. It’s understandable though because people here in my community (and from what I hear from other volunteers, around Mozambique) don’t tend to explore simply for the joy of exploring. Sensibly they probably see it as a waste of time, effort, and precious fat reserves!

Nevertheless, the people eventually welcomed our presence (for whatever reason we had come) and assured us that they had no problem with us continuing our trek to the top. With their blessing, Wilson and I continued to climb the mountain, albeit a lot slower because, when the fields ended, the mountain was largely overgrown with a type of sawgrass that absolutely destroyed my lower half, leaving slash marks running up to my knees on both of my legs. All complaining aside, the view from the top of the mountain (pictured in my last blog entry) was a generous reward for a morning’s hike. In the end, we even got the sense of accomplishment of really doing some exploring, if only for the last few hundred feet, as we trail blazed a path to the top.

We lingered at the mountain summit for almost an hour, enjoying the view and talking about previous adventures in our lives. As we stared out across the mountainous terrain, we could see typically hidden rain clouds crawling across an adjacent valley in the distance and decided it best to start on our way back home (even though the rain almost always seems to find a way to stay just west of Nauela in the neighboring district of Gurue). We flew down the mountainside, pausing only to say goodbye to the farmers in their bean fields and at the natural spring where we were able to fill up my nalgene bottles with some water (I was a little worried at the time of getting diarrhea or something else from this water, but I was dying of thirst at the time so I figured it would be better to get some temporary ailment rather than have a heat stroke! BTW, I haven’t still been sick since then… knock on wood!).

The trip home took a lot less time than the journey to the mountain because we didn’t have to stop every few minutes to ask for directions, but we did end up delaying a little bit because my bike was literally falling apart. First the my seat loosened and became rather wobbly so I couldn’t really sit anymore, then the left pedal fell off, the brakes stopped reacting well to my frantic tugs on the steep descents, and finally the steering wheel stiffened up and would only let me turn 10 degrees to either side. When I finally made it back to my house, I took a bath and collapsed on my bed. Before passing out for the afternoon, however, I had the frame of mind to examine my bike and noticed , while trying to see if the seat was repairable, that engraved on the seat was the following: “Made in India” and under it in bold lettering were the words “Superior Quality”. I couldn’t help but laugh to myself as a stared at my skeleton of a bike. Never again should those phrases be put together again (and that goes for you too Ronak!).

A few pictures from our hike are pictured below:

Wilson striking a typical Mozambican no-smile picture.

Me taking a break at the top of Mount Malapa to smile for the camera.

The panoramic view (already seen on this blog in an early post) from the top of Mount Malapa.

Wilson with his shirt back on, finally, surrounded by corn as we head back down the mountain.

Saturday February 6th, 2010

This past weekend I made a trip to Quelimane to see some of my fellow PCVs and then a quick stay in Murrumbala to visit my friend Amanda’s site. Although I enjoyed hanging out with other Moz 14ers in “the Q”, my favorite part was definitely hanging around with Amanda at her site. Every day we got out and explored a little bit of the city and its surroundings. One day her neighbor, Lina, even took us out on a short trek to climb a nearby mountain. I’m sure that the three of us must have been quite the spectacle because, as we were walking to the mountain, we managed to pick up a whole gang of local kids who followed us all the way up to the top. Other days were more chill; We cooked a lot of meals, pasear-ed (pasear roughly means to wander about aimlessly) and made it a habit of watching the sunsets on a nice, flat boulder about a quarter mile from her house. On the tail end of my visit, Amanda had to go into the office to work and took the opportunity to introduce me to her fellow colleagues. They were very friendly/nice and her AIR CONDITIONED office seemed like a pretty good set up, but I can tell that our PC experiences are going to be quite different. While Amanda has a job that requires her to be in the office from 7am to 4pm every day, my situation is on the other end of the spectrum, with it being almost entirely void of structure altogether. Maybe it would be nice to be somewhere in the middle… At any rate, we did a lot in only a few days and yet I came away from the trip feeling very well rested. A great trip :-)

Me and the group of locals once we reached the top of the mountain.

Me at top of corn-filled mountain

Amanda and me on top of mountain

Our slightly drunk, impromptu guide up the mountain

Panorama from the top of a mountain about an hour and a half outside Morrumbala City.

After more than a month at site I think my mind began to dull the omnipresent, tremendous beauty as a mechanism to avoid spending all of my time lost, wandering the nearby fields in awe of my surroundings. I slowly grew accustomed to the unsurprisingly beautiful sunsets and attractive scenery. , Being away from site for a few days, however, awakens your sleeping mind and makes you appreciate the area and all its intricacies as if it were the first time visiting all over again. In fact, making the evening trek from Alto Moloque to Nauela hits you in the face with beautiestness (thinking of you dad!) and will knock you down if you aren’t ready for it.

Arriving back at site from an extended trip away in the evening is never a good idea, BTW. There is so much house cleaning to get done, cooking, eating, bathing, not to even mention the “mandatory” chill time, sitting around and catching up with all the neighbors! I’m not kidding, the last task definitely was very time consuming! That said, the warm welcome from the neighbors made me feel so special, missed, and appreciated that it was definitely a positive, even if it did keep up late at night. Coming in on the chapa from Alto Moloque, I felt like I was walking back into Trinity in Gainesville with everyone shouting out, “Welcome Home!” Well, it’s definitely great to be home and it’s a really cool feeling to already have gained that sense of home here in Mozambique!

Check out the photos of my home:

A look at the front of my house with the machamba to the left and the mountains in the back. It was a cloudy day though so they aren’t as clear and beautiful as normal :-)

My living room from the front door. Laura, the previous PCV, left all the furniture for me (so nice!). My bedroom door is immediately on the right, the back right door leads to the yoga room, and the back left door goes in my bathroom.

This is another view of my living room from the back of the house.

My bedroom from the doorway (see my sweet impromptu bamboo clothes rack on the left!)

My bedroom from the window towards the bookshelf/dresser

My Office, Yoga, Guitar, bike storage room.

My bathroom… notice that they were kind enough to install toilet tank even though there’s no running water!?!

Sunday February 7th, 2010

Even after the initial warm welcome, I felt it necessary to try to make amends for my short absence by inviting several of my local counterparts over for a late Sunday lunch/early dinner of, what better than, burritos! I had been looking for an excuse to make them ever since I made them initially for my family in Namaacha, but I needed to plan ahead to gather all the ingredients, have plenty of time in order to make all the components of it, and then it would be a waste if I wasn’t making enough of each part for a whole group of people.

The welcome home burrito fest was complete with tortillas, white rice, refried beans, and loaded guacamole (filled with tomatoes, garlic, onions, and lemon juice). The only things that were really missing were some raw add-ins (tomatoes, onions, etc) and sour cream (which I just learned how I can make here!). Struck with the idea during Sunday morning’s church service, I scrambled around town in the late morning inviting everyone while the beans cooked. I ended up inviting the owners of my house, my neighbor Sisa (1 of only 3 female teachers at the local secondary school), my neighbor Waido, Wilson and Amelia (an FGH social worker) from the hospital, and Macua (the professor who is the leader of the theater group that the last PCV started). Not everyone showed up in a timely manner, but this gave me the opportunity to talk with everyone individually, not only getting to know them all better, but also dropping small bits and pieces of my ideas in their ears about their possible involvement in the community projects. All in all, I think that it was a huge success!

Below are some pictures of me and my neighbors:

Janeiro, the owner of my house, coming back after an afternoon in the fields.

From left to right, Dulce (the daughter of the owner of my house), Vanessa(the niece of the professor who lives behind my house), and Angelica (a close neighbor) hanging out in front of my house.

Me with Dulce, Angelica, and Angelica's sister.

Monday February 8th, 2010

This Friday, professor Macua and I have our first meeting scheduled with the theater group that the previous PCV started. I’ve been at site for a while now and many students already know me by just seeing me around town, but I let Macua know that I wanted to go through the school hierarchy before actually doing any planned activities with its students. Well as it turns out, a perfect opportunity to do just that was today because every Monday and Friday the local secondary school students assemble in roll call lines while the teachers and school administrators make general announcements.

I met Macua and the secondary school director in front of the school to organize our thoughts at 6:30am and at 6:45am we promptly started singing the Mozambican national anthem, followed by some short announcements, and concluding with Macua talking about the theater group and introducing me to the crowd. I smiled from ear to ear as I listened to him speak to the students about the group’s plans this year, mentioning a lot of my ideas as possible activities. He touched on the importance of not just doing theater, but rather incorporating community service projects into the group’s regular schedule by companioning orphans and vulnerable children in community and helping construct latrine for people who can’t build one themselves. It wasn’t just what he said, though. It was how he said it all. He spoke with confidence and seemed so excited to get going. After interacting with a number of people where you felt like you were pulling teeth, his enthusiasm was very refreshing and encouraging!

Tuesday February 9th, 2010

One of the first things I noticed after settling back in here in Nauela was how much my plants had grown in such a short amount of time. In fact, I planted several seeds in a flat a few weeks ago and I can see that I need to transplant most of them in the next week or two to other plant beds where they’ll have room to grow (it was taking a while to dig all of the plant beds so I went ahead and planted 9 different kinds of plants in a seedling flat so I wouldn’t miss out on the window of opportunity to plant when the weather was just right).

The leaf lettuce was by far the most crowded, so Waido and I worked this afternoon to transplant it first. I hope that it adapts well to its new environment. As I’ll be continuing to transplant most of the other seedlings during the next week, this time will be critical for the success of my garden! Check out below how my garden is looking thus far….

The first part of my machamba: pictured is lettuce, peanuts, sweet potato, corn, cucumbers, and two papaya trees

The second part of my machamba: pictured is some more sweet potato, corn, okra, beets, pumpkin, butter beans, tomatoes, and a papaya tree (accidently digitally cut out are the green peppers and eggplant).

Thursday February 11th, 2010

Today I spoke to the community leaders at their monthly meeting about the Newcastle virus that is decimating the chicken population here in Zambezia. I talked a lot about the virus and the available vaccine, but also about the importance of building proper shelter for the chickens and giving them good food. I think that the leaders were pretty impressed with the knowledge I brought forth about the problem… on that note, thank you Bryan and Dad!... we’ll see what ends up happening though!

Random thoughts:

Right now the festival of Carnival is going strong down in Quelimane, but I’m choosing to miss out on it so that I can spend more time at my site. I hear that it’s actually one of the bigger celebrations of Carnival in the world, behind Brazil of course. (I just got word from some PCVs who went down to Quelimane this past weekend for Carnival that they were actually pretty disappointed because it was more of big beer fest than anything cultural… glad I stayed at my site instead!)

Friday February 12th, 2010

Man, why did I stop playing soccer when I got into 4th grade?! I could have been the next Pele! I’m SURE of it. Okay, okay, that’s so not true, it’s not even funny. Regardless, I wish that I had stuck it out for a little bit longer so that I could play soccer better now and not look like a fool!

Ever since school started back up in Nauela, a large group of students have been getting together every afternoon at the field across from my house to play soccer. Despite my deficiencies, I went out to play soccer today and it promptly started raining. “Yes! I’m saved!”, I thought. But the rain wasn’t really coming down that hard and everyone agreed since we were all set up, we might as well tough it out through the afternoon shower. Wet or dry, I can’t really do anything with a soccer ball, so I entertained myself for most of the game by simply running up and down the field simply chasing the ball.

As a matter of fact, when my teammates had the ball, I paid careful attention to be close to the action, but not so close as to encourage them to actually pass it to me (that’s assuming they didn’t already know my complete ineptitude at the sport and were going to pass it to me). When I was playing defense, on the other hand, if you took a quick glance at me, you could have mistaken me for someone who actually knew what he was doing. I kept up with the other players (granted they were having to control a ball while running), but ultimately there was absolutely no way that I could ever get the ball away from them. And even when the ball did squirt lose (due to no result of my actions), I would inevitably haphazardly kick the ball a few feet in front of me, typically to an opposing player!

That all said, it was really fun to play and I plan to do it again in the upcoming weeks. I might even use the informal practices to try and do some health lessons during some breaks. I’ll keep you all updated!

Monday March 1st, 2010

A quick photo of me and my friends hanging out during my current trip to Quelimane:

Me, Amanda, Melissa, and Luke hanging out at a restaurant in Quelimane. This is right after Amanda got some sweet weave-in hair extensions.

Sorry to say there is no new text, just this is a panoramic picture I was able to stitch together during a recent hike I went on. So beautiful. I thought you all might want an idea of the scenery around my site :-)

(Click on it to see larger picture)

Wednesday December 23, 2009

“Finally we’re leaving for our sites!” I thought to myself as the FGH minibus slowly pulled away from the pensão in Quelimane. We’d been displaced in that shady, nameless bed and breakfast for over a week and a half while waiting for the finishing touches to be completed on our houses and strangely enough it had grown to feel like a home away from home in some ways. That initial moment of excitement when leaving Quelimane slowly melted away during the long, bumpy car ride to northern Zambezia and seemed like a distant memory when we finally pulled into Mugulama in the early afternoon to drop Ethan off at his site.

After stopping by the local hospital, unloading his luggage, and saying a few words to the owner of his house, the FGH workers (basically) abruptly shoved Ethan out the car door on our way out of town. With the doctors chuckling amongst themselves, I looked back at Ethan as the car went sputtering away. For the first time since I’d met him, Ethan, the epitome of a self confident, knowledgeable, worldly young man, looked a little caught off guard, a little unsure of what to do next, and, dare I say, a little vulnerable. As the minibus turned the corner to get back on the highway, I saw Ethan look to his left and right, take a deep breath, and timidly take the first steps of the next two years of his life as a PCV.

Needless to say, the whole scene was quite a bit disconcerting for me. Luckily I had a few more hours before I got to my site to process what had just happened and realize that, even though I wasn’t at my site yet, I was already the only American around.

We had to make a quick stop in Alto Moloque to change cars (the minibus can’t make it on the dirt path to Nauela) which gave me the opportunity to eat lunch and meet up with Rocha, my local counterpart, and Joakim, the Alto Moloque FGH driver, who were accompanying me to Nauela. After some initial resistance, a post-lunch carb crash combined with the mental/emotional exhaustion of the day’s events eventually gave way to a short nap on the way to my site and made the 50km trip from Alto Moloque to Nauela that much quicker. It really seemed to go by in a flash! In fact, the only thing I can remember about the trip is the dirt road lined with Mango trees and sporadic breathtaking views of distant mountains (Julia, a PCV in Gurue, sent me a message when she got to this area about a week ago saying it was God’s country. I was a little skeptical when I got the message, but after only 2 days I’m a believer!).

When we reached my site, I hadn’t even realized we had arrived in a town before we had pulled off the road in front of my house. Indeed, my house is on the very eastern edge of town and Nauela isn’t exactly what you’d call a metropolis, so there aren’t a whole lot of notable buildings in the city. To be fair though, the house is nearly a 1 mile outside the city center where the market is. Even though my house is far from the town’s stores, it is only a stone’s throw from the health post, school, water pump, administration building, and (most importantly!) somewhere I have cell phone service.

FYI, there are two places (that I know of) where you can get cell phone service here in Nauela, 1) a quarter mile down the main throughway, standing on the side of the road or 2) 30 feet up a mango tree in front of my house. I prefer using the tree so far, but that’s just because it sounds so much more hardcore. Either way, when it is raining (we’re just now getting into the rainy season), it will be hard to get out and make phone calls.

When I got out of the car and approached my house, the construction crew was literally just finishing up their work inside the house. My house owner, Janeiro, who had been helping with the work, was sitting on my front veranda as we pulled up and seemed pretty surprised to suddenly see me arrive with little or no warning (communication is very limited in Nauela because almost no one has a cell phone and there are no landlines). Recovering from his initial surprise, Janeiro and I actually hit it off right away as I was very impressed with the condition of the house and he was very proud and eager to show me the fruits of his labor. As it turns out, Janeiro (along with his wife, Verlosa, and youngest daughter, Dulce) lives directly behind me and I have a feeling that we will be very involved in each other’s lives because I know I’ll be spending a lot of time on the back veranda which overlooks his house.

After completing a quick tour of the house, Joakim, Rocha, and I jumped back in the FGH truck to go to the market and buy some provisions to help me make it through the first night at site: some candles, pasta, tomato sauce, potatoes, and onions (you know, the essentials!). When I got back to my house, Dulce was waiting on my front porch offering her services to help me get my water from the neighborhood pump. Even though I initially told her that I could do it myself, when she insisted I didn’t put up too much of a fight. Before I knew it, night had fallen and there I was taking a shower, brushing my teeth, and getting into the bed that will be mine for the next two years. Crazy!

I spent the whole next morning, starting at 5am, just cleaning and organizing things in and around my house. Even though I’m not totally done, I can already tell my set up is going to be awesome! In fact, let me try to give you an idea of what my house looks like… Approaching the house from the outside one of the first things you might notice is that my house is surrounded by flowers that the previous volunteer, Laura, planted (which really brightens things up). To make it even better, the house has both a front and back entrance with covered verandas that give you the opportunity to sit back, relax, and enjoy the cool breeze and mountain views. Inside, the house is basically a large square that is divided up into 4 rooms: a big living room and a small bathroom to the left and a bedroom and a spare room to the right. The previous volunteer left a 3 piece sofa set, coffee table, and cupboard behind which are filling the living area pretty nicely. In my bedroom I have a full-sized bed, a 6 level shelf for books and clothes (that I bought from the local monastery), and an improvised clothes rack that is made from some string and a stick of bamboo. The bathroom has a toilet (YES!), sink, and a partitioned off portion for taking bucket baths (no running water) all of which tie into some sort of waste water plumbing system. Right now the spare room only has a desk and chair in it and I think I’m going to use it as a study/yoga/guitar room. “What about the kitchen?” you might be asking. Well my kitchen is actually on the back veranda which looks out at one of the most spectacular views ever. Definitely a feather in my house’s cap!

During the afternoon, Tefane, the nephew of my house owner (from here on out my new “host family”) walked me over to the center of town and then some to show me around and buy a few things at the market. Even though I won’t be seeing that much of him, he lives in Alto Moloque and is just visiting, it was a really nice gesture by him.

BTW, tonight there is electricity! Not having it, even if just for one night, makes you realize how nice it is to have. One good thing about arriving during the holidays is that the town is letting everyone get some electricity for the next several days as a sort of Christmas present. After just one night I can see how big of a difference electricity makes. Life’s so much easier with even just lights, forget appliances! Never thought I’d be so happy to see light bulbs turn on!

Friday December 25th, 2009

I saw the clouds in the distance this morning while walking home from the Christmas morning church service. It didn’t concern me though until I felt the wind rip through my house and saw a rainy mist slowly creeping across the fertile valley towards Nauela.

Unsure of how long the rains would last, I made a quick dash to the water pump with my bidões, a kind of large water bucket, in tow. Predictably I wasn’t the only one with the idea, as there was already a long queue at the pump when I arrived. I took a breath and tried to make conversation with the neighborhood mothers and children who were also waiting their turns to pump water as I anxiously watched the wall of rain inch closer. Just as it was my turn to fill my bidões, I began to feel the raindrops against my outstretched, pumping hands. The other mothers looked on in amusement at my hurried pumping motions while a few of the older kids jumped in to help me pump faster. By the time I finished filling the two buckets the rain was already rapidly falling in heavy clumps. In a whirlwind of events, before I even knew what had happened really, 2 kids loaded my bidões on their heads and started on their way back to my house. I quickly ran ahead to open the door and turned around to help them get the heavy 20-liter bidões off their heads. They knelt down so I could relieve the weight of the full buckets from their heads and, without saying much else, ran off. I bid them farewell, carried the water inside, shut the door, and, in a flash, was by myself… on a rainy Christmas day… in a dark house with no electricity.

After consoling myself with a few spoonfuls of peanut butter, I began to look around the house for things to do. “I still need to clear out those papers that the previous PCV left…” I reasoned. I began to leaf through the mountain of papers and books she had left behind, and before I knew it I was totally engrossed in them. The previous PCV, known to me until then as simply Mana (sister) Laura, began to take shape before me. Right or wrong, I don’t know, I read through all of her old notebooks, searching for information that might be relevant to my work here. But pretty soon I found myself engrossed in her tiny notes to self, letters from friends back at home, family photos, even going through and noting the well-worn books, all just to give me better insight as to who this mysterious Laura really was.

I don’t know how much time had passed, but suddenly I noticed that the rain had lessened and was soon going to be coming to an end. At the same time, I became aware of the fact that I didn’t feel so alone anymore. In fact, everywhere I looked around the house was the presence of my new “friend” Laura in the things she left behind: the map taped to the front door, the window curtain now hanging in the bathroom, and even the empty nail holes where her wall decorations used to hang. Sitting at the desk she left behind, in the chair she once sat in, I thought of the Streetlight mantra back at home: We get to carry each other. I don’t know if I’ll ever meet Laura face to face, but I feel as if she just spent all Christmas afternoon alongside me with her arm wrapped around my shoulder, sharing her PC experience and letting me know that it would be alright. Indeed, she had already spent two successful years in Nauela… I can do it too!

Wednesday December 30th, 2009

(This journal entry has been transcribed from my writing pad during my trip to Quelimane for New Years)

The paper I’m writing on is spattered with mud. It’s the same burnt orange mud that is caked on my tired, shaky hands. My finger nails are painted with that mud and touched up with the remnants of peeling skin from my sunburned forehead. The words I just wrote are now being attacked by the sweat pouring down from my chin onto the paper below. It’s so hot and it’s only going to get hotter… It’s been a mentally and physically exhausting week to say the least and now it’s being capped off by this long chapa ride to Quelimane for New Years. No wonder they say you age so much here in the PC.

--

Now I’m on a bus headed to Macuba in route to Quelimane. My right leg is being scorched by the rising sun to our left. The bus is hissing like a thousand agitated snakes as we climb up and down the rolling hills of northern Zambezia. Hopefully that’s normal?! My discomforts are mediated by the beautiful views of the flourishing countryside filled with fruit bearing mango trees, acres of corn and cassava plants, and endless acres of lush unattended land, all encompassed by the distant mountains rising up out of nowhere. To give you an idea, these mountains are a nice blend of the subtleness of the Smokies and the grandeur of the Rockies. It’s abrupt and rocky in some spots, but also smooth and rolling with plenty of trees throughout. All things considered, the trip is actually going pretty well. At least I’m not being asked to stand! In fact, they gave me a front row seat it to it all.

--

We just hit the 50 miles stretch of bumpy road between Alto Moloque and Macuba. I hope that I’ll be able to read this later. My pen is leaping back and forth and up and down with abandon. Not for the faint hearted this road…

--

One, two, three… twenty-six people we just passed in the last minute biking down this highway. Here it almost seems normal for bikes to make up the majority of the highway’s traffic. I mean, really, when we pass a car I think to myself “What the heck are you doing here?!”

--

Random thought: getting on public transportation is sort of like a small miracle of interactions that influence one’s life. We make up such a random collection of people, gathered together, participating in the same common goals if only for an hour or two. I mean, who would have thought that some kid born in Gainesville, Florida would have his life affected by a farmer from rural Zambezia?

Sunday January 3rd, 2010

I just got home from my trip to Quelimane for New Years. I’m so exhausted from traveling again, but happy to be home. I’m actually not quite home yet. I’m actually at the hospital in Alto Moloque sitting in an FGH car, waiting for a ride to Nauela. Every few minutes my eyes dart up at the car’s dashboard clock. 7:48am. The day has just begun, but the heat is already pretty overwhelming and everyone is moving around me with a certain sense of urgency, trying to get the morning’s tasks done before the sun’s full force is upon them. Can’t believe how much cooler it is in Nauela, just an hour away! Country roads take me home to the place where I belong :)…

Tuesday January 5th, 2010

Bugs, bugs, bugs! Staring down at the blood smeared across the small writing pad in my fungus infected hands, I am seriously debating whether or not to write this blog entry or not. It’s been a draining day and it seems that, with the setting of the sun, every winged insect, spider, and misc. bug has decided to try and make my comfy, calm living room their home for the night. Meanwhile, here I am battling them back with only my trusty light blue, Short Hand, 70 Sheets strong writing pad, but, needless to say, I’m not doing such a great job. If I take a break from swatting at them, even for a second to sit down and write a sentence, I know that I am doomed to be dive-boomed by the flying termites that buzz around my head a few times before running into my face, falling to my lap, and inevitably getting tangled up in my arm hair. That said, that’s not nearly as disturbing to me as the numerous 4-5 inch spiders scurrying across the floor. Honestly, right now I feel like I’m the little Dutch boy trying to plug the growing number of holes in the dam and there are only so many fingers and toes that I have left to use before the dam breaks and the bugs just flood in. I mean, really, where are all these bugs even coming from?! The one redeeming thing about all of this, however, is that as of yet none of these bugs are mosquitoes or anything that bites. A big plus that definitely makes it more bearable :-)

Sitting down tonight I don’t know what to write! I feel like I did nothing all day today and this is the first time that I’ve felt that way. Let me clarify. It’s not that I did nothing today. It’s just that I didn’t do much outside my house. Looking into the near future I still have plenty of chores around the house to keep me busy from today to the next month, but stepping up and moving my efforts outside my house is another issue all together.

Not to bore you too much, but just to give you an idea of how things went, today I woke up, ate breakfast, heated up water to be able to drink it later, went and pumped water from the well, washed my clothes, scrubbed the back veranda, did yoga, practiced the guitar while cooking lunch, then felt sick and had to take a nap, woke back up, got my clothes off the clothes line, prepared potatoes to be planted in the next few days, got more water from the well, and here I am typing up this blog getting ready to cook some dinner, take a shower and then head to bed. It might sound like a lot, and it was an busy day, but I’m just frustrated that very little of that was outward action. It’s crazy how consuming the simple everyday tasks can be. Maybe I’ll look into getting a maid for a few days a week so I can concentrate on things outside the house on those days. That said, it’s nice that I can afford a maid with the PC monthly salary, but most of the people I’ll be working with can’t afford one and thus their lives will always be consumed by these household tasks. I need to keep this in mind when asking for help and participation in my community activities.

I’ve only been at site for about 1 ½ weeks now and but I’m still a little frustrated that I haven’t gotten involved with anyone in the community or found anyone who might be a regular counterpart for some health projects. Gah! That said, I have gotten pretty close to the owners of my house, my new “host family”, and they are SO great! Both of the parents live and work at home/in the nearby field so they are almost always around. Their youngest daughter, Dulce, is 13 years old and still lives in their house. She always seems very interested in my daily activities and tries to be helpful when she can. She helped me cook today always offers to help me pump and carry water.

I hope that my attitude will continue to be positive and I’ll continue to do good work. Thank you for your prayers.

Thursday, January 7th, 2010

On my way back from Quelimane for New Years my chapa made a long stop at a fruit stand where I got a little carried away and ended up buying 7(!) pineapples and some bananas. It was definitely a good purchase to share with others as a late Christmas present, but definitely way too many for me. Anyways, after 4 days of cramming pineapple down my throat and giving it away just as generously, I was ecstatic yesterday to finally be cutting up the last pineapple for a late afternoon snack. The pineapple had been slightly leaking its juices that morning and by the time I was ready to cut it up, it was covered in small ants. I didn’t pay too much attention to them and just started cutting up the pineapple figuring that as long as they were on the outside, which I would be cutting off, it would be fine. When I made the cuts along the pineapple, however, the ants charged into the pineapple core in a euphoric stampede only to be stopped dead (literally) in their tracks by the overwhelming sugary juices.

How often does this happen to you and me in our everyday lives? I feel like I oftentimes find myself wanting something so bad and devoting so much time trying to get it only to find out that not only did I not really want it, but as it turns out it is actually something very bad for me. Food for thought 

Anyways, today was an awesome day! I did sooo much! I woke up to the sound of someone hammering away at my wall only to realize that the carpenters had returned to put the final grate around my bathroom window. Even though I left for New Years and nothing happened, it still feels so much better to know that I can securely lock up my house and leave with very little to worry about.

Since I was already awake and wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep, heck it was late anyways (5:45am!), I decided to get up and dig some more in my little machamba (garden) outside my house. The clouds kept the weather nice and cool for most of the morning so I ended up working in the garden later than I had originally anticipated. When I was done digging for the day I sat down on my front porch and sipped on a nice cup of water as I admired my work in the garden. It’s so much fun and I think/hope it’s going to turn out well :)

The carpenters finished up with the house by 10am and left a whole big stack of bamboo and tree limbs in my front yard that Janeiro, my house’s owner, is going to make into a fence over the next several days. I’m excited about the fence because it will keep the kids trying to knock down mangos from nearby trees out of my machamba, but I’m also a little worried because I don’t want to appear too cut off from the neighborhood. We’ll see how it works out…

I took a quick bucket bath and was all ready to do some yoga when I heard someone come up to my house asking for “licença” (permission) to speak with me. I wasn’t expecting anyone and didn’t know who it could be. When I answered the door it was a familiar face but I struggled to get the name on the tip of my tongue before the man helped me by chirping in with “Sou Alfonso.” Turns out he was the man I met randomly while walking home a few days ago. At any rate, we started up some small chat about how things were going and the conversation eventually turned to what he was up to at the moment. He informed me that he was going to go pick up his wife and their new baby from his mother-in-laws house and had just stopped by to say hello. As the conversation died out, Alfonso invited me (maybe without thinking that I’d actually take him up on it) to come with him to see his wife and new baby and, without missing a beat, I quickly agreed.

On the walk over to his mother-in-law’s house the conversation mostly centered on his new baby (it was born on December 31st so it was just 1 week old!). As I found out during the walk over, the baby doesn’t even have a name yet and, when he saw that I was intrigued by this, Alfonso promptly offered the baby’s naming rights to me! (Wow! Surprising huh?! Especially since I was trying my best to remember HIS name just moments early when he arrived at my house…) I politely declined his offer, but I was so intrigued by the proposition that for the rest of the day I contemplated what I might actually name a kid if I had to... humm!

The visit wasn’t too long. After only 45 minutes or so my stomach was telling me that it was lunch time and thus I made a quick exit back towards my house. On the way home I ran into Ne Abdul, the local administrator (sort of like the mayor), and ended up having an impromptu meeting with him about working to identify people in the community for me to partner with. The meeting was very positive/upbeat and ended by scheduling another meeting for next Monday with all the community leaders in order to present me to them and get me on my way to meeting those elusive local counterparts.

If the morning sounded busy, the afternoon gave me little time to catch my breath. I ended up running around calling and sending messages to PC staff members back in Maputo and was greeted by a neighbor when I got home inviting me to come over to her house and hang out. I brought my guitar with me and wound up performing a spur-of-the-moment concert for her family and neighbors. They were so grateful for the entertainment that they insisted on me taking a pound or so of beans home with me. I tried my best to politely decline, but I could tell from their insistence that they weren’t going to take “no” for an answer. Instead, I bowed my head, thanked them profusely, and went home with a huge smile on my face.

When I got home from my guitar extravaganza I saw that Wido, my neighbor across the street in front of me, was actually home (for once!) and ran over to speak with him about a few things before he could disappear doing one of his many things he does. Thus far, Wido seems a very interesting community member who’d I’d like to grow close to and work with. To make things convenient, he lives so close to me and our front porches face each other so we are always interacting. But what really makes our relationship appealing to me is the fact that he is seemingly very knowledgeable about agriculture and one of the local bread makers (so I don’t have to go all the way to the market to get my bread!). So he’s definitely someone to stay on his good side. Additionally, he’s also a devout Muslim and someone I’d really like to work with to make ins with the local mosque/Muslim community. At any rate, Wido has a several papaya trees and was very willing to oblige when I started asking him if I could take a few papaya seedlings to use for the edge of my machamba. He even came over and helping me plant them. He’s so nice! In the end, we even ended up talking a little bit about things I could possibly do with people in the mosque and in the community in general...

Such an awesome day! I’m feeling great about things today! I hope always remember this feeling :)

Monday December 14th, 2009

Saying goodbye to my family in Namaacha was no easy task, but at the same time it wasn’t extremely emotional (i.e. tearing up) either. For one, I didn’t get a whole lot of sleep the night before and, two, I started feeling sick to my stomach while eating breakfast the morning of our departure. Pretty soon after breakfast I was overcome with stomach cramps, diarrhea, and body aches and all of this rendered me relatively mute and introverted for the day.

“Definitely not a good day to travel!” I thought to myself. That said, I knew that I had to suck it up and stick it out for the trip up to Nampula. In between my frequent trips to my host family’s casa de banho that morning, I finished packing my bags and was thrilled to find out that my host family was offering to take me in their car to the send off. We arrived at the market and before I knew it, the chapas were sputtering off as I waved goodbye to all the host families from the barrio (my friends’ host families as well as my own) that I’d grown so close to over the past 10 weeks. It was a sad moment for sure, and one that I won’t soon forget, but my mind was elsewhere, swirling with jolts of pain and discomfort. Only seconds after leaving Namaacha I collapsed, completely exhausted, in the front seat of the chapa with my head awkwardly slumped over as I slept. A great beginning to the next two years of my life, right?!

Thinking back, the chapa ride from Namaacha to the Maputo airport is a blur. I was constantly coming in and out of consciousness and when we finally made it to the airport I don’t think I even entirely understood what was going on. Waiting in the crammed, non-air conditioned departure gate of the airport with 30+ PCVs to check in was tortuous to say the least. I took several trips to the bathroom and several more to a nearby bench to sit down and pass out, even if just for a few moments. The flight from Maputo to Nampula should have been about 3 hours, but it had an hour-long layover in Beira which seemed to last infinitely longer than scheduled. Luckily, the flight attendant took pity on me and didn’t make me leave the plane like everyone else during the layover. When we got finally arrived in Nampula, the PC driver wanted to take me to the hospital, but I insisted on just going to the hotel and resting. We had already taken my temperature and I knew that there probably wasn’t anything more that the hospital medical staff could have done for me because it was only a low grade fever (our PC medical officer should be so proud of me!). After rushing in the hotel and stumbling up to my room, the next thing I remember is waking up the following morning with my fever having broken and feeling a lot better, but still pretty weak.

I spent the morning chilling in my hotel room splitting time between the Arabic news channels (there is a heavy Arabic influence in the northern part of Mozambique) and infomercials on the one English-speaking, South African channel. When I had finally grown tired of the television and became conscious of the fact that I was missing the Supervisors Conference, I managed to take a quick shower, dress myself, and make it down to interact with my organization’s counterparts for a few hours before having to retreat to my room for the afternoon to rest up. Even though I missed out on several hours of the conference, my presence wasn’t terribly missed because the organization I’m partnered with has 4 other new PCVs working with them this year (Ethan, Josh, Katie, and Melissa) and a history with working with PCVs. Therefore, even though I wasn’t physically there, I think that my interests were represented through my fellow PCVs.

The next morning, Friday, the whole army of FGH, ICAP, and Save The Children PCVs headed down to Quelimane, where our NGOs’ main offices are, from Nampula. Even though we left early and didn’t stop that often, the trip still took all day. Part of the reason it took so long is that during a 50 mile stretch between Alto Moloque and Mocuba the road is in really bad shape which not only forced us to slow down to a crawl, but also caused us to pop a tire. Consequently, we spent 30 minutes or so on the side of road having to change the tire, but it gave us a chance to get out and stretch our legs and for that we were all grateful. During the trip we passed by Alto Moloque (my district capital) and my counterpart pointed off in the distance when we passed a side road to indicate where Nauela is (what a tease!). I’m not sure exactly when I’ll be making it back up there because my supervisor, Chire, tells me that they are currently building an indoor bathroom onto my house (it was an outside latrine for the last PCV) and it’s not quite ready yet. Patience is the name of the game…

Friday December 18th, 2009

We’ve been in Quelimane for a week now and I’m still not sure when I’ll finally be going to my site. Melissa, Josh, and Katie left for their sites yesterday, but Ethan and I stayed behind because our sites’ still aren’t quite ready yet. Both the previous PCVs who we are replacing had to use outdoor latrines as bathrooms and FGH decided that they would construct indoor bathrooms for Ethan and I because it was a point of much contention.

We’ve spent a lot of time this week at the FGH office meeting people in the organization and just getting acclimated to the new hierarchy of things. We met with Teresa (the director of FGH in Mozambique), Ruth (the director of the community outreach program for FGH Mozambique), Chire (our direct supervisor), as well as the representatives of other local organizations that we might be working with. In fact, we were also supposed to meet with governor of province, but the scheduling didn’t work out so we’ll have to wait on that one till another day.

A lot of the meetings were slow to start and not terribly interesting, but one moment from the week stands out in my mind above the rest. As our meeting with Ruth came to an end and she was getting her things ready to catch her flight back to Maputo, she decided to tell us a story about her previous experience with PC from her childhood and it goes a little like this:

When I was a child growing up in Swaziland, I frequently saw Peace Corps volunteers in their long, flowing dresses and their huge packs loaded down with seemingly all their worldly possessions. It was a peculiar site to say the least. Moreover, instead of using their own private vehicles to get from place to place, like all the other white people we would see, they were always walking and/or using public transportation. In fact, in all our interactions with them, my friends and I didn’t know much about these foreigners except for the fact that they referred to themselves as “volunteers.” At the time, my friends and I didn’t really understand the concept of a volunteer and it wasn’t until secondary school that we finally grasped their role and purpose for being in our country. In reality, up until that time my friends and I genuinely believed that these strange foreigners were simply a poorer tribe of nomadic white people wandering around Swaziland. –Oh Peace Corps :P

Sunday December 20th, 2009

So after more than a week of waiting in Quelimane for my home in Nauela to be ready, the take home lesson is: if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em!

The ongoing joke between Ethan and I has been that Quelimane is quickly seeming more and more like our actual site and we wonder if FGH will ever actually send us out to our supposed destinations. With that in mind, and spurred on by the fact that nearly all of shops shut down on Sunday, Ethan and I made the decision this morning that it was fine time to stop aimlessly wandering around, buying supplies for our sites and start our entry and integration in the local community... of Quelimane.

Ethan and I started out by doing some of the basic tasks that any other Quelimanian might do on a Sunday morning. First, we took a bike taxi to the local market and haggled with the vendors over the price of the local commodity: the illustrious pineapple. Now, a freshly picked pineapple in the States might cost you several dollars, if available at all, but here in Mozambique you can carry a nice plump one home for only 20 metacais (~70 cents!) after some skilled haggling. Ethan wasn’t feeling so well so he ended up heading back to the hotel earlier than I did, but that worked out well for me because on my way home from the market I was flagged down by a neighbor who lives a few houses down from the pensão we’re staying in and ended up having a 30 minute conversation and exchanging numbers. Even though he knows I’ll be leaving the city soon, he said I can send him a message whenever I come back in town and want to hang out.

No community entry/integration would be complete without participating in some of the less appealing daily tasks (i.e. the household chores). For me, today that manifested itself in an hour of washing clothes in the grueling midday heat. I got a late start on washing the clothes because of our trip to the market, which might have been a problem in Namaacha if I wanted my pants to dry out completely, but not here in Quelimane! It was so hot today (over 41 degrees Celsius) that the clothes all dried out in less than half a day with sunlight to spare! Ooh the things that are impressive to a PCV…

After lunch at a local chicken shack, Ethan and I heard some cheers from a local gym while wandering around and decided to sit down and watch a volleyball game that turned out to be the championship of a small, local tournament. The game was very close and, luckily, the fan favorite won in dramatic fashion, with several people in addition to the team storming the court and dancing, so (almost) everyone went home feeling energized and pretty good about the outcome. Walking out of the gymnasium I thought and laughed to myself “How’s that for community integration!”

All joking aside about our drawn out stay in Quelimane, I can’t wait to get to site. On the other hand, I’m definitely getting a little nervous about it. In fact, I just got down listening to the Beetles song “Elanor Rigby” and the repeated line “Aaah, look at all the lonely people!” immediately threw my mind back into all the conversations I’ve been having with other new PCVs who have already been delivered to their sites. Over and over I’ve heard stories of how they’ve been struggling dealing with the persistent feeling of loneliness. For some new PCVs the experience has been even worse. I just got word from one of my close friends from training who had her house broken into and got a lot of her electronics stolen (which are not easily replaceable here in Mozambique). I think that everyone is handling the transition differently and some people are dealing with it better than others. I’ve heard whispers about new volunteers who are thinking about ETing (early terminating their service), but I don’t know how strong these feelings are. Regardless, us PCVs need to continue to reach out to each other and we need the support from those of you back at home. So if you are reading this blog and you have a friend or family member over here… call them and show them that you love them and support them!

Sorry I don’t have any pictures this time, I’ll update you all soon enough with some from my site.

One Love,

Michael

Sunday November 29th, 2009

“Tchau! Ate logo!” I hollered back to my host family as I stepped out of the house and hurriedly started toward the street. I was on my way to meet up with some PC friends to watch a movie at Amanda’s house and was trying to slyly escape because I didn’t want to be later than I already was. I had been messing around, killing time around my host family’s house for almost an hour waiting for dinner to be served and, now that I had finally eaten, the last thing I wanted to do was waste any more time with long goodbyes.

Just as the loud crash of my house’s metal gate rang out behind me, I felt a slight twitch in my front pocket letting me know that I had received a text on my cell phone. I wasn’t too eager to check it, thinking that it might be a request from my host mom to come back and check in with her, but I made a quick glance at it in stride and realized that the text was actually from Alycia, another PC friend of mine. In the short message she innocently invited me to drop by her host family’s party to eat some cake and, even though I was already running late, I figured that her house was on the way. Moreover, I thought “Really, how long would it take me to eat a piece of cake?” (For those of you who know my eating habits, you know what I mean!).

Walking up to Alycia’s house, I was invited inside by her host sisters and quickly realized upon entering that this was not going to be any quick grab-cake-and-go experience. For one, her host mom was still setting the table when I arrived, while the whole extended family was sitting around the room watching in anticipation. To further highlight the importance of the event, there was even a local photographer present to help capture the evening’s activities. “Ugh! This isn’t what I signed up for…” I thought to myself. It’s funny how host families’ parties have become such a burden here in Namaacha, especially as our time here has started to come to an end. It seems that every other night there is a birthday, anniversary, or going away party that some volunteer and their host families are insisting you come to. It’s an honor for sure, but it’s still something keeping you and your friends from just relaxing and chilling together.

While thinking about trying to get to the movie with my other friends, I noticed that only two other volunteers were at the party and knew that I wasn’t going to be able to make a quick run for it and my absence not be felt. Sitting down next to Alycia’s host father, I decided to make the best of it and just go with the flow. After starting some small talk with the other party guests, I flipped out my cell phone and sent a resigned message to Amanda, “be there later. don’t wait to start movie for me. :(”

With music playing in the background and food aplenty set before us, the mood of my conversation remained somber as Alycia’s host father and his friend explained to me about their experiences in Mozambique’s armed forces. Even though they served in the military after the country’s civil war, it was still two long, rough years of their lives where they were uprooted from their homes and forced to train and stay on active duty several hours away from their friends and family. This is not a unique experience: two years of military service is mandatory for all Mozambican men.

Relating this to the issues that public health officials regularly confront in Mozambique, you begin to wonder how this military indoctrination at a crucial developmental stage in a man’s life affects the general Mozambican masculine state of mind in the areas of sexuality and the treatment of women. Although I’m sure there are some soldiers who continue to remain abstinent or faithful to one partner, I’m confident that sexual promiscuity is prevalent and widely accepted among the displaced population of young soldiers. Adding to the dangerous mix, almost the entire population of males in Mozambique has been trained to be “war ready” and I believe that you can sense that callused, detached mindset when trying to discuss the topics of mortality and the value of life in relation to public health issues, such as HIV/AIDS, with middle-age Mozambican males.

As I understood it, for as long as Mozambique has been a country, since 1975, all men have been required to complete at least two years military service. Back in the day this draft made sense while trying to combat any unrest following the independence of the country and the ensuing civil war. Now, however, Mozambique is decades removed from war and yet there exists a sense among Mozambicans that a military draft is still necessary.

Naively asking Alycia’s family who they thought Mozambique could/would be attacked by, one older woman earnestly blurted out “RENAMO!”, the current minority political party in the country and the former combatant during the country’s civil war. Thinking to myself about the implications of this outburst, I began to project the situation on the current U.S. political climate. It’s hard for me to imagine the feeling that would exist in America if people were scared that the Republicans or Democrats were going to try to violently overthrow the administration if they lost the elections. This, however, is a reality in Mozambique. In fact, just the past month, the leader of RENAMO made a televised announcement urging the people of Mozambique to rebel against the government following the lopsided national elections that were widely thought to be fraudulent. Luckily, these pleads weren’t heeded by the country’s population and things were able to continue on without incident. Regardless, being in a country where the tension between the opposing political parties is so high makes you notice how devastating the effects of a civil war could be. Neighbors who help one another, schools and hospitals that serve the needy, businesses that provide essential daily items for the population are all put at risk of collapsing during a civil war. Here we are some many years removed from the country’s civil war and things still feel so sensitive.

After taking all this in, I started to feel the effects of the recent flu-like illness I was still recovering from and ended up calling it a night soon after. I said my thanks to all the party guests, excused myself, and walked out the door, going home with a sense of uncertainty and more questions than answers about what my role here in Mozambique will end up being.

Wednesday December 2nd, 2009

With my head still trying to grasp the ramifications of the conversation at Alycia’s party, the PCTs were lucky enough to receive a visit today from the U.S. Charge D’affairs (Mozambique doesn’t currently have an ambassador) to put the current social, economic, and political climate here in Mozambique in perspective according to his experiences and beliefs (noticeably very politically charged and thus very different from the approach a PCV might take).

The Charge D’affairs, Todd Chapman, was introduced to the room of PCTs by our country director and at first glance came off looking rather stuck up and goofy with his distinctly-parted, meticulously-groomed hair cut. After only a few moments in front of the crowd of PCTs, however, my initial impression was surprising reversed by his frank and honest recollection about his experiences in country.

The take home message of the Charge D’affairs’ short presentation could be summed up as such: when trying to assess the current state of Mozambique, remember where it came from. Mr. Chapman first arrived in Mozambique in 1993, right after the end of the civil war between FRELIMO and RENAMO, and he couldn’t emphasize enough how far the country has come in the past 16 years. In the early 90’s, Mozambique was the poorest country in the world, based on per capita income, with around 80% of the population living in absolute poverty. Since then, there has been a 30% reduction in the percentage of people living in absolute poverty and the per capita income has quadrupled. That said, because it was so low to start with, Mozambique still remains among the 10 poorest countries in the world. After nearly 2 decades of aid, signs of sustainable improvements are suspect at best. In fact, Mozambique is considered one of the 10 most aid-dependent countries in the world. Perhaps best exemplifying this is the fact that, as I mentioned in a previous blog, over 70% of health care system is paid for by outside sources.

When looking at Mozambique’s shortcomings today, it’s hard to imagine how much worse the state of the country was less than two decades ago following the war for independence and the ensuing civil war. The country’s infrastructure (roads, schools, hospitals, electricity, etc.) had been completely decimated by the fighting. For example, the road from Maputo to Namaacha, which now takes an hour or so to travel, took more than 3+ hours to travel in 1993 due to the unbroken stretch of pot holes lining the road’s length. If that isn’t enough to give a picture of how bad it was in the country, think about how nearly 80% of all hospitals and schools were destroyed in combat. (PC education volunteers recently informed us how it’s not unusual for middle-aged men and women to go to night school now to try and regain the education they missed out on during/after the wars. In fact, the situation is so desperate that people even go to night school in places where there is no electricity and must learn by candlelight. Also keep in mind that these are individuals who are often up at 5am and work till their night school shift from 5-10pm, after which they have to go home, take care of household chores, and do it all over again the next day.)

To make matters more complicated, when peace keepers arrived in Mozambique shortly after the end of the civil war and started trying to demilitarize camps from both sides, they quickly realized that there was a whole generation of boy soldiers who didn’t have anyone or anything to go back to. These young men were raised to be soldiers and didn’t even know where they were from, much less who their family was. For those who were able to transition out of the military lifestyle, the early 90’s was a time where people remained inactive because scattered throughout the country were thousands of unmarked, unaccounted for landmines which made it quite treacherous for people to get out and start rebuilding the country.

Although many would argue that the climb up from this low point has been slow and corrupt, I’m torn when trying to assess whether international aid has been helping or hurting Mozambique. In the eyes of the U.S. Charge D’affairs, I’m sure that the aid has made a tremendously beneficial impact. But, the question of Why should the U.S. continue to give aid to Mozambique? is becoming harder answer in light of the global economic crisis and the fact that some people would argue that there are many indications that the aid is actually hurting the country’s movement towards democracy and economic success (the Charge D’affairs gave the example of the recent elections where there were reported incidents of ballot stuffing and an effort to exclude an up and coming third party from many of the country’s voting regions)

Regardless of international aid, the Mr. Chapman, educated with a strong background in economics, took the opportunity to answer the question of what he thinks Mozambique could do economically to improve its current state of affairs. He emphasized that Mozambique should expand its ability to capitalize on its natural resources (i.e agriculture and mineral wealth) and decrease its emphasis on expanding industry (he feels that Mozambique would really struggle to have a large industry presence because it would have trouble competing with neighboring South Africa and international giant China). Instead, the country should continue to build up infrastructure (i.e. reliable electricity, schools, hospitals, roads, etc) to attract more tourism and small businesses, while also building the country’s human capacity by getting more people who are working in Mozambique trained and educated.

All of these reflections (although some were politically charged and contrary to what PC is all about) have given me a slightly different perspective heading into my upcoming service and I trust that it has taught you back at home some new things too. I hope it will give me more patience with myself and my work (I know now it will be a long, slow process) and that it will inspire you to continue to do some of your own research on the subject back at home. As I move forward, please remind me of this blog when I seem down about lack of “forward progress” because no matter how slow things seem to be moving, I have to remember that Mozambique has come a long way.

Friday December 4th, 2009

I was sitting in my room on Thursday evening, trying to buckle down and put a capstone on the journal write-ups from the past few days, when my friend Kat came over and playfully convinced me to come out of my self-inflicted isolation and goof off with her and some of the neighborhood kids for a bit. A few minutes later, there we were in her front yard singing and dancing along to the blaring tune of Beyonce’s “If you liked it then you should’ve put a ring on it” (I don’t know if that’s the real name of it or not, but you know what I’m talking about) coming from the nearby barraca (a place where they sell alcohol) surrounded by 20 kids from the neighboring houses. At the end of the song, Kat and I collapsed into each other’s arms, out of breath and sweating, but smiling from ear to ear. It was a short-lived moment in comparison to other events during my experience here in Namaacha, but definitely one of the last one’s that I’d ever forget.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t an isolated incident of forgetting to be focused on the people I’m actually here to serve. I am constantly trying to remind myself to recognize how it’s not annoying, rather great that my host family brother and sisters are practically kicking in my door to play with me and how special it is that everyone I walk by in the neighborhood screams “mano Michael” (they pronounce it Me-Shy-El) to greet me. Nevertheless, I’m trying and I’m having fun doing itJ

One “business issue” we had going on today was our LPI (an oral exam PC uses to measure your grasp of a language) that everyone needed to earn at least an intermediate score on to be sworn in as a PCV next week. The great news is that everyone passed! In fact, I actually scored on the high end of the spectrum, qualifying as being “advanced” in speaking Portuguese. It makes me feel good, but I’m also very aware that there is a huge amount of learning still left to be done.

After the LPI, we were rewarded with some of the few precious moments of free time during PST and a group of 5 of us decided to spend it sleeping/resting under a mango tree at Roselia’s house. That may not sound that exciting to you back at home, but trust me, it was to us! Walking around Namaacha in the hot, relentless sun really made us appreciate the cool, swooping breeze that practically begged you to pull up a mat and lay down under the Mango tree’s shade. It felt like we were in some small, little oasis, picking and eating Litchis (a fruit) from a nearby tree, staring up at the swirling clouds above, and talking about our upcoming site placements. We can’t wait J

Sunday December 6th, 2009

By the time I rambled out of bed at 4:30am on Saturday morning to walk over to Noemi’s house for Yoga, my host mom was already dressed and heading out the door on her way to the local school to start preparing food for our end-of-training party later that day. The party was supposed to be providing food for all 67 volunteers and their families, so it definitely was no easy feat, not even for a group of hardworking Mozambican women. In fact, the food preparation was underway days before when they host mom’s had gotten together to kill and prepare 70 chickens and send 1 cow to the butcher.

The party started at 10am with speeches from several community members recognizing the efforts of the host families, the PCTs, and the community’s efforts as a whole in this year’s successful training (like I said, everyone passed their LPIs, so everyone will be able to swear in as PCVs on Tuesday). Afterward, the host families and PCTs were called up in front of the crowd to receive certificates recognizing the efforts of the families (a spectacle filled with loud hoots and hollers, singing, and even some dancing). When it came time for my family to be recognized, my host Mom and made our way up to the front doing an impromptu dance which elicited a loud roar from the audience before we retreated to our seats.

When it finally came time to eat, there was TONS of food, but it still wasn’t enough for everyone. Things like chicken and beef ran out early and a lot of the last people to be served were left with just rice and potatoes. People slowly began leaving the party as they finished up their food, but those who decided to stick around were rewarded with a fun dance party afterward. Probably the biggest highlight of the dance party was one song that all the health PCTs knew a dance to because we had to perform it earlier in PST. Even though it got a little old after a while, that didn’t stop us from playing the song 4 times before the hour long dance party was over!

I woke up today hoping I’d make a quick trip to Maputo to buy a few small things for my site, but my host mom was insistent that I stay in Namaacha in order to go to church and say goodbye to the congregation. She was right. I had been going to the church ever since I had arrived here in Namaacha, only missing a few Sundays here and there, and a lot of people had grown accustomed to seeing me around. It was only right to bite the bullet and say my goodbyes to them. That said, after having sat through the 4 hour long church service (!), I felt like maybe I could have just sent my host mom with a message from me and it would have had the same effect…

Nearly reaching the end of the service, I had almost escaped without making any dramatic speech when my mom signaled to me that if I wasn’t going to let the usher know that I needed to say a few words to the congregation, then she would. I conceded and got the attention of the usher, but had to sit and wait several minutes before the time was right. Even though I had just completed an oral exam with PC, the anxiousness that I felt in those few moments before speaking to the congregation was infinitely more nerve wrecking. When the time finally arrived and I was signaled to speak, I stood up and, with only a little awkwardness, informed the church that I’d soon be leaving, let them know where I’d be going and for how long, and closed by asking for prayers for my travels. All in all, I think the speech was well received and several people even came up to me after the service to personally wish me well on my journey. To say the least, it was a great feeling J

Tuesday, December 8th, 2009

All 67 PCT’s loaded up in PC vehicles and chapas this morning and headed into Maputo for our long-awaited swearing-in ceremony (during the 10 weeks of PST we aren’t actually considered PC volunteers, just PC trainees). Of course nothing can be as easy as simply heading into town here with PC. Somehow I managed to jump on the chapa that overheated 3 times, got royally lost, and completely died when finally rolling up to the front of the U.S. Charge D’affairs’ house, where we were having the swearing in ceremony.

The ceremony included a lot of speeches from PC staff members, U.S./Mozambican government officials, and even some PCT’s. Although the speeches all touched on slightly different topics, the overarching theme of all of them was highlighting the possibilities that lie ahead of us as PCVs and encouraging us to keep up the good work. The actual process of swearing-in came and went before we even knew what happened, but it was a pretty rewarding feeling afterwards to look around finally be able to call one another PCVs!

Afterwards, me and the 4 other new PCVs who will be working with Friends in Global Health got to meet with a few representatives from the NGO and talk about some of the details regarding the next several days. As it turns out, all the PCVs who are going to the Northern region of Mozambique will be flying to Nampula on Wednesday evening for the PC Supervisors Conference the following day. The conference will last for a day and provide all the volunteers an opportunity to talk with their supervisors/community contacts about expectations, job roles/responsibilities, and short term plans working towards community integration. On Friday most volunteers are heading out to their sites, but all the FGH and ICAP PCVs will instead be driving down to the Zambezia provincial capital city of Quelimane (where I went for my site visit) and meeting with NGO staff members for a few days before heading to our sites on Tuesday or Wednesday.

When I finally get to Nauela, my site, I don’t expect to have electricity, much less internet. Therefore, please bear with me as I try to keep you guys back at home as updated as possible on my comings and goings. I’ll do my best.

I’m soooo excited for site placement! Talk to you later.

One Love,

Michael

Check out the pictures below:

A group of most of my close Health PCV friends at the party recognizing our host families. From left to right: Emily, Josh, Michael, Yokho, Noemi (top), Roselia (bottom), and Amanda.

My host mom and I celebrating her receiving her certificate.

The whole Moz 14 Health group with our trainer Caroline to the far right.

The whole Moz 14 group at the host family party.

Some of the host moms getting ready to serve the food for the party. My host mom is in the middle wearing the blue apron.

Yohko eating and drinking it up!

Donna and Luis Luis (one of the cute, newly formed Moz 14 couples) enjoying the party.

Me dancing at the party after eating lunch!

Wednesday November 25th, 2009

I know that I already mentioned some details about my Thanksgiving here in Mozambique (i.e. – my site placement), but I want to back up and let you all know what we, the PCTs, did to celebrate the occasion since it is not, for obvious reasons, a recognized holiday here. And to head off any confusion, the date listed above was no mistake. We actually celebrated Thanksgiving on Wednesday due to some PC administrative reasons.

The day started off as any other “hub day” would, with all 67 PCTs (we lost another Health PCT the other day) cramming under the open-air tiki hut outside Casa Grande and sitting through a few sessions about Health and Safety & Security. After a few hours of sessions, we were supposed to be released to play football before an early afternoon Thanksgiving day meal, during which we’d supposedly find out our site placements. We started the first session late and by the start of the second we all knew that changes would have to be made. After sitting and watching the morning’s time fly by, Rueben, the PC Moz Country Director, abruptly announced to the anxious group of football-ready PCTs that the people with our site placements were almost here and that they’d be extending the morning session a little further to allow them to arrive and let us know our site placements before our interval. Upon their arrival they built up the suspense a little, gave each one of us a sealed envelope with our name on it, and when everyone had finally received their envelope let us all rip them open to discover the piece of paper that told us where we would be living for the next two years.

Kristie, the Health Assistant Peace Corps Director (APCD) for Mozambique, and some other PC staff members getting ready to start handing out our site placements

The room was filled with joy and sorrow at the same time. Strong friendships that had formed over the past 8 weeks were geographically torn apart in a flash, while others were bound that more tightly. For me, there is no one who was placed around me that I wish wasn’t, but at the same time there are a lot of people that are being placed in the southern part of Mozambique that I will miss: Matt, Jenna, Donna, Louise to name a few. In reality I don’t know how often I’ll even be seeing the people in my own province and maybe that’s for the best because it’ll make me rely more heavily on the relationships within my community. Regardless of the other PCVs that at nearby my site though, I really like how my site sounds on paper and can’t wait to get there. To finish up the site placement session, we all gathered at the front of the room and placed small sticky tabs with our names on them in the corresponding spots on the map where we were each going to be placed. See the map covered with sticky tabs, it was a comforting feeling visualizing that almost anywhere we go in Mozambique there’ll be a volunteer not too far away. I’ll have to keep that in mind when, down the road, I get a feeling like I’m all alone in this country.

A quick look at all the PC Moz 14 volunteers (maybe a few are missing?) and their site placements.

As you can imagine, all of this significantly ate into our interval where we were supposed to be celebrating Thanksgiving by playing possibly the first game of (American) football that Namaacha had ever seen. Faced with this time obstacle, we decided to delay the game to the next day, a decision that would later have a significant impact on my health and wellbeing, and instead just have everyone run home and fetch/prepare their food for the Thanksgiving Day meal.

That said, we actually had to plan the meal several weeks in advance because so many of the foods that we take for granted as being easily accessible in the US are not widely available here in Mozambique. The PC staff agreed to provide the meat (beef and turkey), drinks, and utensils as long as the PCTs provided the sides and desserts. After much thought and a little deliberation we decided to split up and prepare mashed potatoes and gravy, mac and cheese, green beans, stuffing, beets, corn, rice, steamed squash, pumpkin pie, flan, cookies, cakes, brownies, and a bunch of other stuff that I can’t even remember right now. Needless to say, the potluck Thanksgiving day meal was awesome!

Thursday November 26th, 2009

Let me qualify the last statement of Wednesday’s blog post by saying that, at the time, the Thanksgiving day meal was awesome!... A day removed from it, however, I started having muscle pains and headaches that came and went throughout the day(I’m not sure if these were directly related to the food consumption or not, but several others people had similar complaints). When the afternoon rolled around and push came to shove, I had made up my mind that I wasn’t going to let those minor road blocks keep from me from playing some good ol’ fashion Thanksgiving Day pigskin. Bring it on ;-) And, you know what?, upon arriving at the field and seeing people tossing around a football, the rushing adrenaline quickly made my minor aches and pains fade away. I played alright, but my team, mostly composed of Health PCTs, valiantly fell to our rivals, a team mostly composed of Education PCTs, 10-7 in a two-hand tag game filled with plenty of “accidental” tackling (mostly by the PCT girls!). Limping home from the game, the adrenaline slowly began to leave my system and I began to realize that I definitely should not have played. I hadn’t even made it back to my host family’s house before the headache returned with a vengeance and by the time I had been home for an hour my bowels had required four separate trips to the casa de banho. L

At the end of the day, a redeeming factor to it all was receiving calls from my family back in the States right before I was about to pass out on my bed and then, the next morning, from Ricky and Chris. Thank you all so much for your support! I’m sorry I was sick at the time we talked, but I just want to let you know that, even though I probably didn’t sound like it on the phone, it was great to hear from you! J

Friday November 27th, 2009

Today should have been a day of rest. Emphasis on the words “should have”. Instead, I had to do my long-anticipated practicum with Noemi, a fellow PCT, as a sort of capstone to the whole PC training process. I woke up feeling pretty bad, but after resting up, taking some medicine, and talking to Ricky and Chris on the phone, I was able to make it out of bed, put on my best smile, and just fake it. Our practicum was geared towards people who prepare the food for their household, mostly older women, but actually drew a nice array of people including one young man and several teenage girls. During the discussion portion of our presentation, the exchange of knowledge between the older and younger generations was actually pretty encouraging, showing us that the people who came were really getting into it (a lot of the people who come to these practicum presentations are PCT host family members and are just there to be bodies in the audience). Even though there were a few mistakes here and there, I think that both Noemi and I walked away from the presentation feeling pretty good about things, especially considering the circumstances of me being sick and all.

I said goodbye to Noemi shortly after the end of the presentation and spent the rest of the day lying balled-up on my bed, decked out in winter clothes while trying to combat the chilly feeling encompassing my entire body. Near the end of the day I asked my PCT friend Roselia, who I’ve been doing Yoga with in the mornings, to come over and meditate with me to “speak with the illness”(she had suggested this for another friend ours who was previously sick). Now, after heavily studying evidence-based curriculum in areas like biochemistry and microbiology throughout high school and college, I don’t know how much of this is legit or not, but I really did start to feel immediately better while meditating and, the kicker is that, about a hour or so after we stopped meditating my fever broke and I’ve been feeling great ever since. Who would have figured?! I’m not totally convinced it wasn’t just a coincidence, but it seems to have worked/at least helped this time, and for that, I’ve very grateful! J

This is a view of the wall surrounding my host family’s yard with the sunrise in the background. Sunrises while doing yoga is a definite “high” each morning J

Wednesday November 18th, 2009

“…and I’ve never seen a traditional dance like THAT!” Caroline (the PC Health Program Trainer here in Mozambique) explained to the group of PC health trainees as we discussed our observations regarding some sexual references during a local dance performance we had just witnessed. In fact, what had caught people off guard was not the repeated pelvis thrusts that occurred throughout the dance (typical in many traditional African dances), but rather the culmination of the song where the lead dancer put his hand down his pants and stuck his finger out of his undone zipper. Even though some of the moves were notably influenced by African culture, the show resembled a hiphop dance scene from the movie “Step Up” more than anything else. The performance by the group of young men, as Caroline pointed out to us, actually gave us a lot of insight into the generation of young Mozambicans that we will be working with who are currently experiencing a huge transition of cultural influence in their society.

Even though many European countries carved up and forced themselves upon most of Africa in the 1800’s and 1900’s, I believe that the western cultural influence which is now penetrating African society is arguably greater than ever before. While colonialism forced new languages and social structures on many African tribes, the local languages and customs persisted and were highly prevalent in everyday life. Now, on the other hand, although the current generation of Mozambican youth continues to get certain aspects of their culture from their Zulu and Shangana (here in Namaacha) heritage, there is a huge amount of influence from foreign sources that extends beyond the realms of government and economy to profoundly influence family life. This influence, in the case of my host family for example, most often comes in the subtle and seductive form of Brazilian and Portuguese television programming, American and European movies and music, and a general influx of ideas from organizations and individuals from all over the world who set up camp in foreign countries. Although one might argue that this influx of knowledge and culture greatly benefits the upcoming generation of Mozambicans, it has a detracting side to it as well. Of all the 6 children in my host family, for example, only one, my oldest brother Lissaio, can actually speak Shangana. To combat this trend the government has implemented programs to revitalize local culture by teaching native languages in schools, but these programs are few and far between.

On a personal note, after having been in Mozambique for a little less than 2 months, I’ve already started to question the presence and motives of international NGO’s and ex-pats (not excluding myself) who come to Africa to help build infrastructure and/or address public health problems, but who often bring with them their own agendas and end up causing a lot more problems than providing solutions. I am not saying that we should stop offering aid to people in developing countries, but instead I am trying to make it one of my foremost goals to not push my agenda when serving the people of my future community. We’ll see how well I hold true to that one…

Friday November 20th, 2009

I have a blog entry for this day that I'll be sending out to people on an individual basis because of its sensitive content. If you would like to see this entry, please email me at mtudeen@gmail.com and I'll try to email you the entry ASAP.

Saturday November 21st, 2009

It was only slightly drizzling (a significant improvement in recent weather patterns) as I stepped out of my house and started up the hill towards the city center of Namaacha. It had been raining the night before though, so the roads were pretty muddy and it was battle with every step I took, having to tug on my sandals just to get them back out of the matope (shangana for “mud”). I was running a little late and wasn’t sure where I was going exactly, but I knew that PC had scheduled a visit with a curandeiro (a traditional healer) somewhere in Namaacha so I was pretty ready and willing make the early morning trip, even in less than ideal conditions, to have the new experience.

A look at the mountains from Barrio 25 during a quick lull in the rains.

After the initial confusion, I found myself with my language group being led down a wet, rocky mountain side, whose dirt had been scrapped away by the wind and rain, towards the curandeiro’s house. Although the path looked especially daunting, the rocks were actually not very slippery, surprisingly easy to walk on, and sort of functioned like an paved, albeit uneven road for the barrio.

When we finally arrived at the house of the curandeiro, another PC language group had just started their visit so we had to stand outside the consultation room (a circular mud-block hut, about 10 feet in diameter, topped with thatch roofing and completely separate from his actual house) under a crammed covered patio and make small talk while waiting our turn. When the other group finished their visit after 30 minutes or so and we were finally able to enter the consultation room, the curandeiro asked us to take our shoes off before entering and then sit on the straw mat stretched out on the floor in front of him. The curandeiro was a middle-aged man, probably somewhere in his early 30s, whose dark black skin dramatically contrasted the white and red capulana that he wore around his waist. Luckily for us, he spoke Portuguese very slowly and clearly and I was able to understand most, if not all, of what he told us.

Our visit with the curandeiro started with him explaining to us the preparation that goes into a consultation and how a typical consultation happens. As we sat there star struck, he rapidly pointed out items hanging from the walls of the room that play important roles in the consultation: differently designed capulanas he wears in accordance to the type of consult, head dresses that that patient must wear, various jars of herbs and animal skin, etc. He then went on to tell us how, when a patient arrives for a consult, they are not supposed to tell the curandeiro what’s wrong. Instead, the curandeiro takes a small cup filled with coins, shells, and other materials, shakes them, and the releases them onto the floor to make a pattern. He didn’t explain exactly how he reads the patterns that they make, but apparently it tells him why the patient is visiting and they move on from there with the appropriate ritual or herbal remedy. On a normal day, he guesses that he’ll see anywhere between 10-15 patients. And to me that’s very interesting because here, in a relatively urban area (like Namaacha) where access to the hospital is relatively easy, the cost to find transportation to the hospital is minimal and the care at the hospital is, most of the time, free. On the other hand, a curandeiro always charges a fee. So even when almost everyone in the area is strapped for cash, you know that money isn’t the most important factor in many people’s health decisions.

According to the curandeiro we visited, between 60-70% of Mozambicans have visited/still visit a curandeiro for medical treatment. People seek out medical treatment from curandeiros for various reasons. Even though the public health care system here in Mozambique is free of cost, there are still plenty of barriers to entry and oftentimes a visit to the local curandeiro is the more practical option. For example, with over 20 million people in Mozambique and less than 900 doctors, compared to over 15,000 curandeiros, it is safe to say that there is a significant deficiency of health care professionals, resulting in very long wait times at the hospitals. Additionally, hospitals are only located in district and provincial capital cities, so if you need to receive treatment, you may need to travel very far just to wait in those long lines. Another important aspect of visiting curandeiros is the emphasis on spiritual and emotional healing which oftentimes the official medical system tends to put less emphasis on or ignore completely. Discussing it a little more, some PC friends and I have hypothesized that maybe paying something for health-care services gives the patient a sense of comfort in knowing that the service rendered is “valuable” and the patient literally and figuratively has bought into the treatment method.

The curandeiro we met with is the district secretary of AMETRAMO, Association of Traditional Healers of Mozambique, and thus he was very sensitive in the wording of his explanations regarding the struggle between traditional healing and western medicine. While sidestepping some of the more direct questions regarding this struggle, he portrayed the current health care situation as one with shared responsibilities between both entities. He recognized that some problems are indeed biologically based, but that curandeiros have many herbal solutions that they can use to treat them. He also conceded that there are some diseases are biologically based that curandeiros haven’t yet figured out how to treat them (ie HIV) and instead they refer these patients to the area hospital. However, he was insistent that many physical illnesses are actually rooted in emotional and spiritual issues that curandeiros can best treat through particular rituals.

One must take all of that with a grain of salt though, because a patient doesn’t typically walk into a curandeiro with a hospital diagnosis. In fact, as I mentioned earlier, the curandeiro usually won’t even permit the patient to tell him what’s wrong with him. Instead, the curandeiro relies on their collection of shells, coins, and other spiritual items to help determine what the patient’s illness is. In the end it’s tough to say if a curandeiro will always refer a patient with a biologically-based problem that they can’t treat to the hospital. An omnipresent force of conflict in western medicine is the influence of money. It’s no different in traditional healing. Curandeiros are not typically ultra-wealthy members of the community and thus they need to earn money just like everyone else. As one can easily infer from this situation, there is a significant incentive to holding on to patients instead of referring them to the hospital.

That all said, there is a saying back in the States among general practitioners that 70% of acute patients will get better without the intervention of the doctor. Yet, not only do we continue to still see all of these patients, but we even encourage most people to go to the doctor more often. This seemingly insinuates that the illnesses stopping are directly related to the doctor’s interventions, but this is not always the case. So I ask, in this instance, is western medicine and traditional medicine really that different? Just a thought…

Sunday November 22nd, 2009

Since arriving back from site visits over a week ago it has been overcast and rainy every day, minus a 3 or 4 hour interval one afternoon. It’s been so bad that I’ve actually been called out by my host family for acting sad or depressed. And you know what? They were right! I’m a Florida boy and I was pretty bummed out by the weather. To give you a better picture of how intense the rain has been, two days ago it was so bad that 3 houses in Namaacha actually caved in and were destroyed because the rain eroded the mud “mortar” that held the houses’ stone exterior together. (As a side note, it’s amazing that I didn’t even notice the collapsed houses until my brother pointed it out to me! I can be so absorbed in small things that I notice the huge ones.)

That all said, after a week of rain, I woke up this morning singing to myself, finally…. it’s gonna be a bright (a bright), a bright, a bright sun shinny day! I took the opportunity to wash and dry clothes (I had been getting a lot of jabs from my host family about having worn the same pair of pants for the past three days), get mud off shoes, and, most importantly, get out and have some fun!

Check out the photos below from my long anticipated hike to the waterfalls with my PC friends and our host families:

Walking in the shade to the waterfalls just outside of Namaacha.

A better look at the scenery while walking to the waterfalls.

Yokho, Roselia, and Noemi with our host brothers and sisters at the upper waterfalls.

Me joining in on the photo action in front of the upper falls.

Josh feeling me up from behind in front of the big waterfall.

Roselia and my brother, Ramadaan, chilling on a rock in front of the big fall.

Amanda's brother and my brother, Ramadaan, climbing a tree in front of the big fall.

Yokho, Noemi, Roselia, and Josh with our host family members enjoying the sunset as we walk back to Namaacha.

Wednesday November 25th, 2009

Happy Thanksgiving everyone! I miss you all! I’ll write more about my Thanksgiving experience and such later, but I just wanted to let you all know what my site placement is! **drum roll please** I will be spending the next two years in the rural town of Nauela in the northern part of the Zambezia province partnered with the international-NGO Friends in Global Health working with People Living With HIV/AIDS (PLWHA). My site is located in northern part Mozambique, close to the Mt. Namuli (the second highest mountain in the country, I think). Go check it out on google maps or something J! Now I know where I’m going and what in theory I’ll be doing, but once I get to sight we’ll see how everything pans out. Either way, I’m really excited!

Wednesday November 11th, 2009

Staring at the beads of sweat quickly forming and running down the back of his shaved head, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the young bike-taxi “driver” who was taking me across Quelimane to catch my flight back to Maputo. It had taken me about 5 minutes to balance myself on the bike’s rickety, improvised backseat and, now that I could stop worrying about falling off, my mind was quickly being flooded with thoughts. It had been a crazy past few days during my site visit, but it was finally coming to an end. I was exhausted. While simply trying to hold on to the bike-taxi with my loaded backpack weighing heavily on my shoulders and a bag of books in hand, I had moments where I was too encompassed in my own struggles to even appreciate the fact that someone was actually biking me AND all my baggage miles across town on uneven dirt roads. “I need to suck it up!” I thought to myself silently, pushing back my shoulders and trying to force a smile. The action didn’t get rid of the pain in my back or even the general exhaustion I was feeling at the moment, but it helped me make it the next few blocks until I was finally dropped off in front of the airport. Thinking back on it now, this realization, making the best of the situation at hand, was one of many overarching themes of my site visit to Nicoadala.

During my time Zambezia (1 of Mozambiques 11 provinces) I had the PLEASURE of staying with Jimmy Schneidewind, a PCV who is about to do his Close Of Service, or COS, with the PC. He has spent the past 2 years in the community of Nicoadala working for ICAP, an international NGO working with people living with HIV, as a co-trainer of HIV peer educators in the local hospital. Although his primary work has had its ups and downs, he’s become really involved in his community by competing on the community soccer team, co-facilitating a local youth theater group that promotes sexual health and HIV awareness, and being the national PC leader of JOMA (Jovens para a Mudança e Accão). However, for the past several weeks he has been slowly wrapping up his role in the community activities and thus we didn’t have too much official work to do during my visit.

Instead, this gave me a lot of time to “chill” and reflect on a lot of bottled up emotions that have accumulated over the past several weeks of training (I use parenthesis around the word chill because Zambezia was actually incredibly hot, with temps up around 100 degrees!). During the first day at site I found myself lying down on the impromptu bed in the house’s common area and staring up at the zinc roof while my mind wandered. Sweat accumulating on my forehead and chest did little good to cool me down as it quickly rolled around my sides and off my back, soaking into the bed that I’d be sleeping on later that night (enticing, right?). With Jimmy quietly reviewing some of his job’s final paperwork on his computer, the silence made it easy to imagine that I was actually by myself at my own site. It was a cool thought, but also a scary one. Here I was, “alone” lying down in “my” house in the middle of the day with nothing holding me back, but at the same time lying there motionless with thoughts like, What should I do now? Where could I start? Would my Portuguese be good enough for people to give me the time of day? and Do I REALLY have to go out in weather like this wearing pants and a nice shirt every day?

The thoughts of action vs. inaction quickly gave way to the heavy reality of being alone. I wasn’t feeling so good about myself and yet I couldn’t just go and meet up with any ol’ “mulungo” (the Mozambican word for white people) and cheer up by cracking some jokes in English. In that way, I finally got to see how the PC experience is not like a study abroad program (or PST) where a community is flooded with foreigners and one always has that safety net when venturing outside of their comfort zone. The “real” PC experience is more of a slap in the face, making you realize that you may very well be the only person in your village, or even within hours of traveling, who speaks English. I am alone (and will be for 2 years). Now the only question left is: How am I going to not feel lonely?

It took me some time to get over all my initial negative reactions to the down time that I was experiencing, but after I had time to process my feelings, I began to realize all the possibilities my down time gave me. I had already spent a day or so talking with Jimmy about his activities both in the community and with ICAP and that gave me a good start for my own ideas. My mind quickly turned to Permaculture training as I began wondering how my vegetable garden back in Namaacha was doing and how I might go about starting a personal garden in Nicoadala if it turned out to be my permanent site placement (it’s a lot hotter, drier and the soil does not seem nearly as fertile… in fact, the word Nicoadala means “dying of hunger” and I assume that it was named so because of agriculture problems at some time during its history). Pretty soon I was churning out ideas that would keep me occupied during my down time and provide more opportunities to make an impact in the community (a lot of them are things that I almost never make time for in the States) like going to local plays/performances, playing guitar, reading, gardening, cooking new recipes and coaching/playing sports (to name a few). Exciting stuff!

Backing up a bit and trying to recap exactly how the site visit went chronologically, 13 PC trainees flew up from Maputo to Quelimane on Saturday where we met up with most of the Zambezia PCVs at a local restaurant on the water. Although we had met several of the volunteers during PST in previous weeks, it was so different seeing them all together “in their element” outside training. The restaurant was really chill and the whole scene reminded me a lot of Florida. It was easy to imagine, while drinking some sodas and watching the sunset over Quelimane’s ocean inlet, that I was actually back in New Smyrna, hanging out with Bryan and Co. at Inlet Harbor.

The next day Matt, 2 PCVs (Sara and Luke), Sara’s Mozambican boyfriend, and I took a chapa to Zalala, the closest beach, for a day beach trip (Jimmy was playing a soccer game in Quelimane and couldn’t come with us). The chapa was really more of a pickup truck and, as we quickly discovered, the driver didn’t even have a license to carry passengers. Thus, the truck spent the better part of the next hour taking the backroads to the beach to avoid police checkpoints on the main road. Once we finally got outside of the city, however, we eventually made it back on track and got to the beach without incident. The beach was really beautiful, but what really caught my attention was the fact that wind-bent trees, not high-rise condominiums, lined the beach front in both directions as far as the eye could see. I enjoyed the nice, peaceful afternoon on the beach, but what made it even more memorable was that it was my first time getting to swim in the Indian Ocean! I read a little, swam and talked with Matt and Luke, and topped it all off by making a pretty high-quality drip sandcastle before packing up and heading back into Quelimane. Later that afternoon, I met back up with Jimmy and we took a short chapa ride out of the provincial capital to Nicoadala before calling it a night.

Now if I didn’t describe more about my experience with Jimmy you might finish reading this blog post and think that I didn’t have such a great time during my site visit. The fact of the matter is, however, that it went GREAT! Despite the fact that it started out slow, Jimmy and I ended up walking all around Nicoadala (it’s not actually that big) doing little things here and there. After spending the morning and early afternoon in his house on the first day, we later visited the hospital, high school, and soccer field where he does some of his PC projects (most recently a Permaculture training just outside the hospital). The next day we went and talked with the administrator of the district and then got to go have lunch with a couple who are both peer educators who work with Jimmy at the hospital. They served us the Zambezian version of Matapa (complete with potatoes and Shrimp) and topped it off with a locally-grown, freshly cut up pineapple. Amazing!

That sentiment specifically referred to taste of that pineapple, but also mirrors how Jimmy and I felt about our own cooking creations. Every meal we took it upon ourselves to try and outdo the previous one. As a matter of fact, for our last dinner together we ended up preparing 3 medium size pizzas (two decked out with grilled chicken and sausage) and a banana cream pie made from scratch, without a conventional oven mind you! I could go into the gloriousness of the invention of the double-dutch oven for hours right now, but instead I’ll just tell you what it is (I had never even heard of it before the site visit): one small pot inside a larger covered pot with rocks/sand separating them on the bottom so that the stove’s heat transfers to contents of the small pot like an oven would. Take home message: when in Africa, double dutch it!

On my final day, we headed back to Quelimane early to do a few things (buy some hair clippers and eat a Zambezian-style grilled chicken at a famous local fast food restaurant) before I had to catch my flight. Jimmy and I were about to say goodbye when he gave me a final farewell present: a jar of Black Cat peanut butter (a precious commodity typically only available in bigger cities in Mozambique)! It was a really nice gesture on his part and added to the many things he had already given me (i.e. a Southern Africa travel guide book, a gardening/permaculture book, answers to all my questions, not to mention simply a great time). I feel like we really got close during our time together and I’m bummed that he’ll be heading home before I get a chance to come back up to Zambezia and visit L…

Before I knew it, we had said goodbye and I was holding on tight to the back of the bike-taxi, backpack full and books in hand, meandering through the dirt streets towards the airport. It was an abrupt change arriving at the airport and being welcomed back into the world of PST filled with fellow Americans. It was a bittersweet moment, happy to share the stories, but also feeling ready to leave training behind and get started already. So what did I learn from all of this? I guess the biggest thing was probably the fact that I now know that I not only CAN do it, but I really WANT to do it and am excited about it J

*A quick note: One PC Trainee from the Moz 14 group (we are the 14th year of PC here in Mozambique) decided to leave PC and go back home right before site visits. So now we are only 68…. I hope that we don’t lose any more trainees from our group, but at the same time I hope that everyone makes the right decision for themselves and doesn’t feel too much pressure from other trainees to stay if they are really unhappy with the experience.

Sunday November 15th, 2009

“Are we in South Africa?!”

Yesterday, 4 PCTs and I set out to hike up to the top of a mountain right outside Namaacha where Swaziland, South Africa, and Mozambique meet. After hiking down from Namaacha for 30 minutes or so and crossing through a relentlessly sunny prairie, we came upon a nice shady area next to a quaint, rural farmhouse where we quickly all decided to sit down. Before the 5 of us could relax, however, 3 huge purebred dogs saw us and quickly came running. After the initial shock of having 50+ pound dogs running at us, we discovered that they were actually pretty friendly and just wanted to play. A few moments later we were startled again when we looked up and there was a young, pale girl with strawberry blond hair watching us. We were all unsure what to think. Where are we? Who the heck is this girl? and Should we introduce ourselves in Portuguese or English? She eventually said “hello” to us in a queer accent and we quickly responded by asking her where she was from. She told us that she is from South Africa and, confused by all of this, my PC friend Anna innocently blurted out “Are we in South Africa?!” The girl got a mystified look on her face, but then recovered to respond condescendingly “No, you are in Mozambique!” In the end, the little, mouthy South African girl, Naomi as it turns out, actually played a key role in our journey by directing us back on the path to the top of the mountain. It was a long hike and I definitely feel it in my legs today (and my head where I got a little sun burned), but it was definitely worth it.

Check out the photos from the trip below:

A nice picture of the biggest catholic church in the district located near the center of Namaacha right before the hike.

Yokho getting excited about the fruit (called Jaca)... so huge!

Yokho, Anna, and Lisa posing on a scenic road outside Namaacha.

Yokho, Anna, Lisa, and Ethan resting after hiking halfway up the mountain.

Me perching on a rock with the city of Namaacha in the background! Photo courtesy of Yokho...

The hiking group at the marker where South Africa, Swaziland, and Mozambique come together.

Me doing the Gator Chomp at the 3 country marker! The gator nation is everywhere...

Hiking down the mountain... you get a glimpse at the beautiful farmland that surrounds Namaacha.

Yokho throwing up a peace sign as the sun sets in the distance. Good hike!

Thursday October 29th, 2009

So for the past two days we’ve gotten a welcomed break from our normally scheduled classes in order to go out to the fields and learn about an agriculture technique called “Permaculture.” The term comes from the union of “permanent agriculture” and is called such because the method tries to achieve small scale, sustainable agriculture success for families with a very limited space to plant. As we found out over the past two days, the technique is thousands of years old, but has just recently been popularly promoted by people all over the world as an effective method of farming. In fact, this was the first time that PC Mozambique had decided to devote time to it during PST and I’ll go ahead and say that the overwhelming consensus was that it was time well spent!

With this training behind me and with the resources that the PC is going to provide us regarding agriculture, I’m really confident that I will be promoting this technique in my community. Not only will it hopefully give my community members a better yield of crops, but it likely will also provide an opportunity for people in my community to better relate to me and give me a chance to broach several health topics regarding agriculture and nutrition.

That said, Permaculture is different from how most Mozambicans do their agriculture and I suspect that there will be a lot of resistance to change. The technique has a few key pillars to its implementation and some are significantly more labor intensive than the traditional agriculture technique here. Our permaculture training instructed us that a “double dig” (literally digging once, then pushing that dirt out of the way and digging again) and mixing the soil with compost ,among other things, will significantly enrich the soil and easily allow the plant’s roots to grow deep into the earth so the plant can grow tall and healthy. Both of these techniques, the double dig and adding compost, put air into the soil and thus it is essential to keep people off of the plant bed once dug. However, this is easier said than done here in Mozambique because you have to worry about the whole neighborhood’s children and animals running around in your yard and having to construct a fence around the plant bed is just another barrier keeping people from changing their current agriculture practices.

Thinking about all this, I want to get my family to try it out, even though they have comparatively a lot of land, just so that I can get some practice explaining the rational to people in Portuguese and have some actual experience planting things outside of Farmville (that one’s for you Mariah, Mom, and Ricky)! We’ll see how receptive they are to it…

Sunday November 1st, 2009

I’ve realized over the past several days that even though Mozambique doesn’t choose to readily acknowledge four seasons (usually they only refer to winter and summer A.K.A. the dry and rainy seasons), that doesn’t mean that there isn’t a period of time where it is still cold, yet periodically rains (i.e. this whole week!). Today, however, is a warm day with no rain and hopefully it is just a sneak peak of what more is to come…

So after writing about my experience with Permaculture on Thursday night, I fell asleep just as my body was beginning to feel the effects of 2 days in the cold, wet fields (or as they say here in Mozambique, in the cold, wet “Machambas”). I was feeling pretty achy when I woke up the next morning, but decided to try and tough it out through the day of classes. Bad idea! The morning went by without incident, but I didn’t make it too far into the afternoon’s classes before I started feeling horrible and ended up having to go home early and rest. I passed out on my bed early in the afternoon with my t-shirt halfway off and my jeans still around my knees and could very well have made it through to the next morning like that if it wasn’t for my host mom’s thunderous knocking letting me know that, sick or not, it was time to take a shower and eat dinner. Despite my moans and groans, the shower really did feel pretty good and it was a tasty, filling dinner. It also gave me a chance to call up my friend Matt (previously shown in a lot of my pictures, most recently crushing up peanuts with his mother during the Mozambican luncheon with my language group) and he quickly came to my rescue with a bottle of ibuprofen that really helped me make it though the weekend’s Halloween festivities.

Saturday morning I woke up feeling better, but knowing that I was still pretty weak and wanting to test out my strength before the Halloween party later that night. I remembered that the capulanas (a traditional Mozambican cloth that is typically wrapped around a woman’s waist like a skirt) which I bought and dropped off to be made into shirts were ready, so my brother and I walked across town to pick up the shirts and test out how I was really feeling. Although the trip was tough on my body, I decided that, sick or not, I had been talking up the party for a while with my host brothers and I really didn’t want to let them down by backing out at the last minute.

The party went off without a hitch and I actually continued to feel better and better as we went through the evening. Walking from my host family’s house to the party was quite the spectacle. My host brothers knew that I had been planning on dressing up as the Chiquita banana woman for some time, but when it came time to head out for the party they couldn’t believe that I was actually going to walk all the way across Namaacha in the dress. Consequently, my host brothers both chickened out at the last moment in joining me as Chiquita banana women and instead left for the party without costumes. When we got to the party, however, we ran into a PC friend of mine and his host brothers who had bought several rolls of toilet paper and were wrapping themselves to dress like mummies. My younger brother, Ramadan (the serious one), immediately decided that he also wanted to be a mummy and we made quite the couple at the party together (hopefully I’ll be able to get a picture of this for you all soon). After the family oriented portion of the party ended around 8:30, I walked my brothers back home, changed clothes, and then headed back out for Palushas after a quick dinner. The Halloween dance party at Palushas was really fun and didn’t run too late into the night (we had to be home by midnight). Getting a bunch of Americans together to celebrate the occasion really made Mozambique feel a little bit more like home and lessened the reality that we are so far away from our friends (I miss you all!).

This morning I went to church as usual, but switched things up a little by singing “I’ll fly away” in front of the congregation with my host mom (even though I wrote out the lyrics for the song for her, she still mostly just hummed the tune while I sang) since all the other volunteers flaked out on coming to church the morning after the Halloween party. The whole church service I thought about how in a few hours my family would be going to church in Gainesville for All Saints Day to remember Memom, my grandmother who recently passed away, and thus I spent a lot of the service thinking about her (I wish I could have been there).

Later in the day, I ended up running errands with my brother Ramadan trying to get ready to make my small Machamba in front of my host family’s house. We went around the neighborhood buying manure, gathering small pieces of char/ash, and getting seeds before finally heading back home to start digging. With the help of my brothers, we completed the first dig today and tomorrow we should finish up with second dig and possibly plant the seeds.

Monday November 2nd, 2009

Today my oldest brother (Lissaio) and I finished digging the two plant beds (it’s a lot harder when you don’t have 3 or 4 people helping you) and then planted and watered the seeds. I don’t think that I’ve mentioned this before, but the PC trainees are going on “site visits” this weekend to give us an idea of what it might actually be like once we get to our sites in December. I am not exactly sure about all the details, but when I come back next Wednesday, hopefully the seeds will be germinating and the ground won’t be compacted by the neighborhood’s roaming chickens or my youngest brother (Eunicio) and his gang of 5 year old friends.

On a small side note, I cut my hair really short after planting the seeds this afternoon and now it feels so cold! I can’t wait for my hair to grow back or for the weather to warm back up a little (whichever comes first!).

Wednesday, November 4th, 2009

It’s official! I’m going north to the province of Zambezia for my site visit. I don’t know too much about the details, but a group of us are flying out of Maputo to Quelimane (the capital city of Zambezia) on Saturday and won’t be back in Namaacha until Wednesday evening. I am really looking forward to breaking up the routine of training in any way possible and I can’t wait to get out and see what other parts of Mozambique are like. I’ll post again later next week after I get back from my site visit…

One Love,

Michael

Me and my brothers getting ready to go to the Halloween party! I'm supposed to be the Mozambican Chiquita Banana Woman

My brother watering our newly planted Machamba!

Me sporting my new hair cut and new Mozambican shirt made from a calpulana.

Friday October 23rd, 2009

Today we met up with our language groups to cook several traditional Mozambican dishes for lunch. It took a while and we didn’t really know what we were doing most of the time, but luckily our host mom’s were there to help us along (it was actually sort of funny seeing them constantly bumping heads over the different ways to prepare these dishes that each of them make on a daily basis in a slightly different manner). I don’t know if I’d be able to prepare any of the food by myself tomorrow if I tried, much less in 3 months or so down the road, but it was a lot of fun and gave me hope that I MIGHT be able to survive when cooking for myself after I leave my host family at the end of Pre-Service Training.

We cooked three sauces (Matapa, Cove, and Cacana) and prepared two base carbs (Xima and Rice), which are covered with your sauce of choice. I had already eaten all these foods before, but this was the first time that I was able to try them in a short span of time and really compare their tastes, ingredients, and consistencies. Even though I liked them all, I discovered that I liked Matapa the best (for now), although I think that Abóbora is pretty similar and I might like that more (we didn’t fix that sauce this time).

The three sauces we prepared all had crushed peanuts and coconut milk in them, but are distinguished according to the final main ingredient. Their ingredients look like the following:

Matapa: ground Matapa leaves, peanuts, coconut milk, onion, tomato, salt, garlic, and stock chicken powder

Cove: diced Cove leaves, peanuts, coconut milk, onion, tomato, salt, and stock chicken powder

Cacana: Cacana leaves, peanuts, coconut milk, salt, and stock chicken powder

To clarify, Xima is a staple Mozambican food that is loved by all here, minus a lot of PC volunteers (Note - I prefer rice, but I don’t dislike Xima). To completely describe its majesty would take a Mozambican a short novel, but my best attempt is that Xima is a finely ground cornmeal mix poured into hot water and stirred until it produces a thick, paste-like final product that sits heavy in your stomach… for hours. Although I’ve stuck with utensils thus far, my whole family eats xima (and the sauce that accompanies it) with their hands and my host mom is adamant that it just tastes better that way (sounds like some advice from Ronak, eh?).

Anyways, near the end of the cooking session we were adding tomatoes and onions to the Cove and Matapa, but while I was cutting one of the onions I let the knife slip and slightly cut my left thumb. It seems like all is good, but I don’t have any antibiotic ointment, so I’ll just have to keep it as clean as possible and hope that everything will be okay for the weekend at least.

After the 4 servings of lunch (!!!) and then cleaning up our mess, we celebrated the end of the week by going out to “Palusha’s”, a bar/hangout spot near the edge of the town to grab some drinks. It was pretty fun to see so many PCTs together at once without having any training to worry about, not to mention the fact that the venue is pretty balla’ for Mozambican standards. Not only does it have a pool, it even has a flushing, western-style toilet!

I am excited looking forward to going back to Palusha’s and I know I won’t have to wait long because on Halloween the PCTs are going back there to party it up American style (minus the skanky costumes)! I don’t know exactly what my costume will be yet, but an earlier leader is the Chiquita banana woman. I’ll keep you all posted…

Saturday October 24th, 2009

So today was a pretty big day… It started off with a written Portuguese exam that went… mas ou menos. I finished up early, came home, washed my clothes, and hung them up to dry (I’m getting better at it) before eating lunch with the fam. After lunch, my host family and I went to Namaacha’s flea market, called Shoprite by the locals (which is a Mozambican chain equivalent to Wal-Mart). At the market I bought two capulanas to make into t-shirts and my brothers bought a bunch of lightly worn clothes with English words on them (which kept me wondering if they had possibly come from some household in the US and if so, how cool it would be to “know their stories”). Before leaving Shoprite my mom made sure we bought 4 live chickens so that I would get plenty of practice at killing and preparing them to eat. We had to carry them home from Shoprite and, even though chickens weren’t that heavy, they get to be quite a burden after walking for over a mile with them. Today was a really hot day and against my better judgment I took my brother up on his offer to buy me a freezypop from a streetside vendor on the way home from Shoprite. The cherry-flavored ice tasted/felt amazing while it lasted, but I’m not sure if I’ll still think it was worth it when I am plagued with diarrhea for the next 2 weeks (btw, thank you for the immodium Mariah)!

When we finally got home from Shoprite we had to wait around for 20-30 minutes before we could kill the chickens while we heated up some water on the stove. It gave us a nice chance to relax after the long walk home. The chickens were dazed from being carried most of the way by their feet and just sat there, unaware of what lay ahead. When the time finally came around to do the dirty work I had already had a long time to try and rationalize the killing of the animals and felt a lot more at peace with it than I thought I would have… weird, I dunno… After having actually killed the chickens, I can definitely see why so many spiritual rituals have developed in so many cultures around the world regarding the killing of animals for food and/or sacrifices. To say the least, it is a very intense moment to realize that you are taking the life of another being!

I’m constantly going back in forth with this in my mind and I’m not entirely sure where I stand on it. I think that when I get back to the US I could very easily become a vegetarian, but I’m not sure if my stance is even that firm on the matter. I think that killing of animals in the US is largely unnecessary because there are plenty of options for other nutritional substitutes and it is such a waste of resources compared to other sources of nutrition. Before killing the chickens today I guess I reasoned that it’s important to the diet of the Mozambican family because they have very limited options to select a variety of food and I know that my family in particular really doesn’t have many other sources of protein in their regular diet besides the occasional meat.

At the time I guess I felt I had it figured out pretty well in my head because my brother showed me how to kill a chicken and after the first one I think that he was surprised when he saw that I was willing to continue with the other three. One thing going through my head was that since I’d be eating the other three chickens at some point during my homestay here, I’d be lying to myself by saying that I didn’t really participate in their killings just because I wasn’t the one actually using the knife. After the decapitation, I had to hold the chicken’s main body still for several moments before it stopped moving. At that point we brought out the piping hot water we had to wait for initially and dunked the chicken’s body in to it to loosen the feathers from the skin so they could easily be plucked. After all the feathers and skin on the feet were removed, I had to cut open the chicken’s belly to remove the organs, being careful not to accidentally cut into the intestines and let feces spill out (Note - I was doing all this with my left thumb having a gash on it from yesterday’s cooking lesson that I was supposed to keeping clean. Oh well! It’s PC Africa!). Finally, the feet were cut off at the knees and at that point the chicken pretty much looked like something you’d find at Publix. Yummy!

Actually, as I finish typing this up, I’m about to go in to the dining room and guess what we’ll be having for dinner… you guessed it! Talk to you later.

One Love,

Michael

Sunday October 25, 2009

I went to church again today and since I had already done my laundry on Saturday I was able to relax around the house until we went to the service at 10:30. The majority of the service, as normal, was in Shangana, but a lot of it was translated for me by a young man visiting from South Africa who speaks some of the local dialect and a good bit of English.

The topic of the sermon was “Jesus Cristo é Salvador” (Jesus Christ is the Savior). The pastor put a lot of emphasis on the miracles performed by Jesus during his ministry (ie the woman who was a hemophiliac and the blind man who were both healed by faith in Jesus). Although a lot of the scripture was translated very literally (with the emphasis being that faith can heal you physical ailments more so than the way I usually think of it healing my emotional/spiritual issues), not all of the metaphorical language was lost. The pastor briefly talked about how our faith in Jesus can heal our souls, but really harped on the potential for physical improvements. Dovetailing perfectly with the sermon, there was a time for people who were sick or injured to come forward and have hands placed on them while being prayed for (this always happens, but was particularly notable because of the sermon topic today). I think that the sermon and the prayerful healing afterward at least somewhat reflects the health status of the average person in Mozambique. People who are sick here really do rely on small miracles to make it through because oftentimes getting treatment is too expensive (even though a lot of the actual treatment is free, someone still has to pay for transportation and other incidentals involved with traveling to receive care).

Over the past 3+ weeks during PST, guest lecturers been telling us a lot about the health issues that people in Mozambique are facing and I’ll spend the next paragraph giving you all some background just so you can get a sense of the situation. It is estimated that 1.7 million people, or 16% of the population, are living with HIV/AIDS in Mozambique. However, this is not evenly distributed throughout the country because there are actually provinces where nearly 3 out of every 10 people are infected (crazy huh?!). In addition to HIV/AIDS, the prevalence of Malaria is known to be extremely high, but is hard to pinpoint exactly because many people who have been previously infected by the parasite are asymptomatic carriers. That said, a study of children under 5 (a population that has little immunity to the parasite) showed that about 65% of the population in the northern region were infected. In addition to these two issues, general health is hard to maintain because malnutrition and adequate access to sanitary a water source are also huge concerns.

That all said, I can just begin to understand how someone feels in this country based on their health status. As I said earlier, I cut my hand on Friday and continued onward the next day by killing several chickens and removing their insides with an open wound on my finger. I am pretty sure that I’ll be able to get medicine to treat the wound, but I can tell it’s already become slightly infected even though I’ve been very vigilant about washing my hands over the past several days (how sad is it that I’m comparing the cut on my hand to Malaria… pathetic, I know).

Anyways, the point is that I’ve grown up in the U.S. covered under my dad’s insurance plan and have never felt in danger of not being able to receive treatment for even little injuries, much less big ones. Now I find myself in a country where huge public health concerns are prevalent and some people, even relatively wealthy families, might not be able to get treatment simply because of lack of health infrastructure and staff.

Even though my church here in Namaacha seems like it can’t get any farther away from what I’m used to in the states, it is crucial for me to appreciate the different draws to Christianity/religion due to people’s perspective. I have only just begun to adjust my perspective from that of college-educated, white, middleclass American and thus I know my opinion will continue to change with time. Taking a step back and thinking about it, the fact that Jesus is able to appeal to so many people on so many different levels is incredible. Although we in the U.S. may tend to focus on Jesus’ philosophical appeal, it’s important to note how Jesus provided his followers with their basic needs as well (curing illnesses and providing food/drink) and how that is just as important, if not more, depending on what your current needs are.

If I don’t get another blog up before Halloween, have a great time everyone and be safe (especially if you are going up to Jacksonville for the game… Go Gators!).

One Love,

Michael

Check out the new photos from the cooking session and my family:

Saturday October 17th, 2009

I found out yesterday that, because of a series of events, my language group of 5 doesn’t have class today… so this weekend we actually have 2 days free! Well, actually, I know that I’ll be staying busy doing things around the house and such, but it should give me at least some extra time to reflect on my experience thus far and what I have to look forward to.

Here in Mozambique, today is first day of consistent rain (last weekend in Maputo was more off and on), which signals that the summer (rainy season) has started to overtake the cool, dry days of winter. Even though I’m surrounded by my host family members who are running around the house washing dishes, cleaning clothes and sweeping the concrete patio, the scene is sort of eerie. With the coming of the rainclouds, the mountain town of Namaacha has been encompassed by a thick mist that barely lets you see the outline of the neighbor’s house. People walking by on their way into the city center come and go, disappearing in to the fog as they pass our house. Adding to the effect created by the mist is the presence of the water/clay mixture streaming through the eroded dirt streets. If you’ve ever seen the movie “Blood Diamond” with Leonardo DiCaprio you might remember the part where the characters are transfixed in the dark red color of the clay that omnipresent across most of Sub-Saharan Africa. Well, the clay really is everywhere and with the coming of the rain, it is all quickly turning to mud. The clay is only able to absorb so much water, however. The rest of the water, meanwhile, is sent streaming down the mountain side, picking up clay residue along the way, making it appear like a steady rushing stream of blood coming from a recent puncture wound that Mother Nature dealt to the mountains high above... overly dramatic? I know… but eerie nonetheless!

So with 2 ½ weeks in Mozambique under my belt, I believe that the country is more westernized than I thought it would be. From my limited interactions with Mozambicans so far, I’ve taken note that most people like to watch TV (from Mozambique, Portugal, and Brazil), listen to music (from Mozambique, Europe, and America), cell phones are prevalent, and even computers with internet access are available in most small cities. Even though the country is very poor (I read somewhere that it is considered to be the 5th poorest country in the world), you can tell that there has been a significant influx of western thoughts and values, especially through advertisements. I’m not entirely sold, however, on the fact that the advertisements depict the mindset of the country. For example, one concept that still hasn’t changed much despite the influence of western cultural ideals is beauty. Even though skinny and midsized women are frequently idolized on TV commercials, all the Mozambican women that I’ve met keep telling me how much fatter they want to get. In fact, full-figured women are held in such high regard that if you are an overweight American who comes to this country, don’t be surprised when a Mozambican women loudly declares how much she wishes she could be fat… like you!

Looking ahead, the Peace Corps trainees who are health educators (like myself) will be completing a practical experience in the next few weeks where we interact with our host families and community members to outline community resource maps (highlighting the strengths, weakness, threats and opportunities in the community), design daily and seasonal calendars (to see what events are regularly affecting our target populations), conduct needs assessments (to see what needs the community has) and finally planning/executing a series of health education sessions. Basically, we will be acting like the next several weeks are our first weeks at our actual permanent site placement and trying to navigate through all the hoops and see how it goes. We are supposed to get a sense of the important places and people in the community, attend a few community meetings, and ultimately hold a series of polestras (informal lessons) in the community on our subject of choice. I’m a little nervous about the presentation, but excited. Now that I’m actually looking the experience in the face, it makes me wonder how big, if any, of an impact I’ll be making on my future community. Hopefully, things will go well over the next few weeks and I’ll feel energized going into my service!

Sunday October 18, 2009

Mozambican lesson 1: ALWAYS check your room for rodents, bugs, and other critters!

I had been told by family to clean my bedroom floor every weekend, but last weekend I was busy going to Maputo, washing my clothes, helping prepare dinner, etc and never got around to it. This morning when I started taking things off the floor to wipe it down finally, all was going well until I moved my camera backpack from the corner of the room and found, literally, thousands of ants piled on top of each other reaching more than a foot off the ground. I let out a small shriek and then mumbled something about “homigas” and my host mom came running. Only a few moments later, with a few calculated moves with our kitchen knife, she scooped most of them into a bowl and quickly took them out of the house without any more incidents. We later discovered that the ants had made their way into our house from a small crack in the house foundation and proceeded to fill it in with cement. I’m optimistic that they won’t come back, but I might be sleeping with one eye open for the next week or so!

*Note to self: the lone kitchen knife that my family has is a very useful, multipurpose tool! So far, I have seen it used for cutting various foods, decapitating a chicken, removing ants from my room, and (most recently) used to shovel wet cement into a hole in the floor. Don’t worry though, we wash it between uses ;-)

Tuesday October 20,2009

WARNING: Some parts of this blog describe the killing of a chicken in semi-vivid details. Please do not read the text below if this might disturb or offend you…

This past Sunday afternoon Donna, a PC friend from SoCal, threw a small party at her host family’s house to have an excuse to cook up some authentic Mexican cuisine to share with her fellow PC trainees and host family. Donna had already started preparing the food by the time I got there and I knew right away from the smell that it was going to be an awesome meal. Even though I think the party was supposed to be small and low-key, the group of Peace Corps Trainees (PCTs) kept on pouring in as the food got closer and closer to being ready. In fact, by the time the food was actually served we were worried whether we’d even have enough food for everyone. It was a close call, but when ended up having just enough.

After everyone had been served and people were getting ready to head back home, all of a sudden Donna’s host sister pulled out a live chicken that they were going to eat for dinner that night and pandemonium broke out when we found out that Donna was being asked to kill it at that very moment. Although several PCTs had already killed a chicken, or at least heard gossip about the killing of a chicken, everyone quickly gathered around to watch the spectacle. Looking back on it now, the killing of an animal that I eat on a regular basis was sobering to say the least.

I believe that we, in the US, often forget the fact that meat that we regularly buy neatly and cleanly packaged in the grocery store down the street is actually from an animal. My generation, especially, has grown up daily eating hamburgers, fried chicken, bacon, etc and yet I doubt that even 5% of people my age have killed any one of those animals with their own hands. The death of the chicken was gruesome and yet slightly quicker, easier, and less climatic that I thought it might have been. The chicken didn’t fight that much, not that its efforts would have likely been very fruitful, and once its throat was slit it quickly lost consciousness and went limp. Donna cut the chicken’s neck until she reached the spinal cord, but at that point the bird’s twitching reflexes kicked in and scared Donna. She dropped the knife and sank back, but without missing a beat Donna’s host sister stepped in and finished the job by completely decapitating the chicken. Even then, we had to continue to hold down the chicken by its legs for a minute or so as the body continued to twitch and convulse on the ground as blood poured out from its freshly cut neck. As the recently decapitated bird’s movements lessened and the plucking began, somber PCTs began to file out of Donna’s yard and back home. It wasn’t until the next day that I discovered that, for many of us, this deflating event was the capstone to the end of a tough weekend for many PCTs who realized that the party (our honeymoon experience where everything seems new and good) in Mozambique was now over.

Speaking about the passing of the honeymoon phase, I arrived to the Health Tech classes on Monday and Tuesday hearing several stories about PCTs crying, having second thoughts about committing the next 2 years to PC, and just generally not enjoying themselves. I think that we are all trying to stay positive, but it’s tough! The PC staff is doing a good job at helping us with the transition process, but there is so much going on in training and a lot of people are feeling overwhelmed. I think most people are getting to the point where they know they are committed to PC, but just want a few minutes/hours back with their friends so things can just be “normal” again, even if for only a moment.

While all the PCTs here are great, we are all still feeling each other out and trying to find a group of close PC friends that we really can connect with. This is especially difficult though, because all the while we know that our permanent site placement will limit a lot of interaction between groups of friends formed during training.

Obviously, Peace Corps is not all about making friends with other Peace Corps volunteers though! I think that we are all feeling a little vulnerable right now and thus we are reaching out to each other. In this effort, however, I think that some people (myself included) aren’t doing a great job of balancing the friendship aspect of PC with professional aspect. Of course there are a lot of job benefits to having connections with other PCVs in other parts of the country who we can call up and talk to as colleagues to pick their brains, but we need to be diligent in reminding ourselves about why we are here.

If you are reading this blog and thinking of me, please pray for me to remain determined, have patience, and continue to keep focused on the reasons why I am here.

One Love,

Michael

Here are some photos of the past few weeks leading up to the trip and once I got to Mozambique.

This is a picture of my family and Ricky out at the Santa Fe river the day before I left for Mozambique.

This is the view from my hotel room in Maputo! So sweet!

After 3 days of traveling, it was time to relax by the pool...

My friend Dov took some down time to play his violin... There are a lot of talented people here!

This is a picture of my brothers in our house's hallway...

My brother Lissaio cooking...

My brothers and sisters here in Namaacha...

My family playing UNO! They love it! You can see my host mom on the couch in this pic.

My language group hiking the mountains close to the Swaziland border.

My language group during a morning language lesson.

October 12th, 2009

I just kicked my brother Lissaio out of the room because I was exhausted and about to pass out, but then I went outside really quickly to brush my teeth and got a second wind. So here I am now, sitting down to type out a few thoughts before nodding off for the night…

So after all the hype, our chapa ride from Namaacha to Maputo on Saturday morning turned out to be slightly anticlimactic in the end. All 65 Peace Corps volunteers ended up at the same spot, at the same time to take some chapas into the city. So instead of us being broken up into our small language groups and mixed intermittently with Mozambicans, we ended up completely filling 4 chapas (still sitting 4-deep on 3-deep seats mind you!), but we didn’t get the authentic chapa experience for sure. I mean, there wasn’t even a single person standing! That said, we all had a lot of fun on the ride into the city. In fact, as we were entering the city, I led the whole chapa in singing “Wagon Wheel” and “Country Roads” and I couldn’t help but think of the times I’ve sang those songs with you all back at home while strumming my guitar… sigh…

Anyways! The day in Maputo was a success for one reason: I got a cell phone! In case you want to call me sometime via skype, give me a shout at 82-294-8201. I don’t know the country code, but I think that you can look it up on Wikipedia and/or I think Skype will automatically figure it out for you if you tell it to call Mozambique (I’ve been told it only costs you 16 cents a minute from Skype). Other than coming back to Namaacha with a cell phone, the day in Maputo wasn’t too great. It rained the whole time we were there and we had a lot problems at the cell phone shop and ended up wasting a lot of time. Another highlight, though, was the food (nod yes now if you feel like that last sentence reminded you of every entry on Ricky’s Europe blog ;-)). We went to a pizza place for lunch and even though the pizza isn’t comparable to Hungry Howie’s… it was more than sufficient to meet my needs!

Following up the busy day in Maputo, yesterday was the first “free day” of the weekend since we actually “had” to go to the city on Saturday. Sunday morning church not starting till 11am in the States is usually a great opportunity to sleep in. Not so here in Mozambique! My entire family was awake and working outside the house by 6am and I finally realized that God also really wanted me out of bed when the neighbor’s rooster meandered over and decided to make camp under my window at 6:30am. When I finally stumbled outside my house on my way to the bathroom, I barely had time to say “Bom Dia” to my family before my mother jumped in front of me and informed me that she was going to be teaching me how to wash my clothes this morning. Still dazed and sleepy, I had to think quickly to struggle to communicate to her that I HAD to go to the bathroom. While lingering in the bathroom, I hoped that she had gone and continued her morning routine and that I could possibly get away from doing my laundry at that moment, but when I came out a few minutes later I saw upon exiting the bathroom that she had been patiently waiting… like a lion ready to pounce! I’m not going to go into the process of how to wash clothes by hand (it actually pretty complicated and a lot harder than it looks), but I’ll say this: after all the pain that it took to get the dirt stains out of my clothes(literally my knuckles rubbed raw), I now know why people really didn’t want to get their clothes dirty back in the day… it’s a LOT of work to get stains out of clothes… especially white ones! On that note, why did I bring so many white shirts again? GAH!

Finally, after washing my clothes, taking a quick shower, eating breakfast, and ironing my clothes, I made it to church just in time for the start of the service. The service was pretty quick compared to the previous’ week, just as beautiful with the songs but with less of an incomprehensible sermon in Shangana. Sitting in my seat and enjoying the service, everything was going smoothly until I realized that as the service was coming to an end the pastor was, in fact, asking me to close the service with a prayer (luckily I got to do it in English). I’m not going to lie… The prayer started pretty rocky and anyone who could speak English probably would have been confused by the haphazardness of it, but in the eyes of the congregation the prayer went off without a hitch and everyone seemed happy with my contribution even though I’m not sure if they understood more than a few words here and there… Note to self: never make a foreign exchange student say a prayer for the congregation at his second church service, even if it is in his own language… it’s just awkward!

The church service got out a little after 12 and I still had to go home to eat lunch with my family so I knew that there was no way I’d be able to meet up with some of my PC friends who were taking advantage of the free day by trekking out to Namaacha’s legended waterfall around noon. I got a text from another friend, though, who was trying to get together a game of Frisbee at 2pm and, even though my host mom and several people from the church had invited me to go to a local church coral competition that afternoon, I make the executive decision to get some exercise and play some Frisbee instead. The one big problem being that only two people showed up to play Frisbee, including me! So here I am, out in the middle of a field, missing out on the awesome trek to the waterfalls, ditching my mom’s coral competition, and looking like someone who is really out of place, decked out in gator gear, with a Frisbee in hand. Even though it was well after the time the event was supposed to start, I could hear people in the distance warming up for the coral competition and felt an extreme sense of anguish at the idea of missing out on my host mother’s singing. And at that moment, I realized that I should make it a point to take better advantage of the cultural opportunities which present themselves to me while here in Mozambique with Peace Corps. With only a few words of goodbye to my fellow Frisbee friend, I jolted for my house to change my clothes to go to my mom’s competition and as it turned out, the coral competition had been delayed so that I only missed the very opening act. In fact, in the end, the whole afternoon worked out for the best because not only was I able to make the concert, but the lack of rainfall had turned the waterfall into more of a trickle and left all the trekkers relatively deflated when returning home… That said, I know that I really want to go to the waterfall later on once in starts raining and I’ll make sure to post some pictures!

October 13th, 2009

Today I went hiking along the Mozambique-Swaziland border with my language group and afterward, feeling inspired, I decided to take out my camera at home tonight and snap a few shots of my brothers and sisters. Check the out the photos below!

October 4th, 2009

I’m typing this on my computer as I’m lying down, getting ready to pass out on my bed. I’m exhausted and the Peace Corps’ schedule has me waking up at the crack of dawn tomorrow to study Portuguese and Mozambican culture. In reality, since tomorrow will be the first day of 10 weeks of training, it’s likely that it’ll be a lot orientation stuff rather than classroom learning and practical training. Training is supposed to end somewhere around December 12th and after that I probably will have more internet access, but it’s not like I’m looking forward to ending training because if it is anything like the past day, it’s going to be awesome! Let me try to explain…

I just spent my first full day with my Pre-Service Training (PST) family and they are so cool! I’ve been able to communicate really well with them and they are VERY supportive and patient with me. I’ve definitely had to deal with some short comings in my language capabilities, but it is AMAZING how much my Spanish background has helped me. If I ever get to somewhere where I can’t express myself in Portuguese, I say the word(s) in Spanish and generally it has been almost the exact same and they totally understand me. I’m only a day and a half into my home stay and I’ve already been talking to my family about marriage, my travels, our families, world history, and so much more. Actually, at dinner tonight we talked about my host mom’s family and how her parents both died during the country’s civil war while she was growing up. Later when her sister died, she left behind her two children who now live in my host mom’s house along with her own 4 children. While saying all of this, she expressed to me how important it has been to surround herself with family since as a child she was alone and, moreover, that she applied to host a Peace Corps volunteers because she always is seeking to expand her family and is so glad to have me (I almost cried right then at the dinner table!).

Everything hasn’t been as serious and moving though. Actually, a lot of it has been pretty hilarious and I’ve had to laugh off my own mistakes and cultural adjustments. So far, my family has taught me a lot: how to start the coal burning oven, filter my water, properly clean my fruits and vegetables, iron my clothes, and even take a bath. The last one, luckily, they only had to explain it and didn’t feel compelled to show me or help assist me (which I hear has happened to other Peace Corps volunteers before and isn’t too uncommon!). On that note, in case you all don’t know, a bath/shower here in Mozambique is a prolonged ritual that starts by boiling some water that is stored throughout the house in large containers and adding it to some cold water in a bucket, then taking the bucket outside to the separate bathhouse, using a small cup to pour water over your body to remove the soap and, in my case, doing all of this in a crouched position so you don’t splash the water everywhere! It’s amazing how much you take for granted running, hot water!

Today was Sunday and, as I quickly found out, my family likes to attend a neighborhood evangelical church every week. I’ve been in a few churches outside the U.S. now, but this was different and SO COOL. First off, they don’t primarily speak or sing in Portuguese in the church. Instead, they speak Shangana, a local language, and while it was tough to listen to a person lecturing for extended periods of time because I didn’t understand it, it was sooooo beautiful to listen to in the songs. The service consisted of more than an hour of songs that were led by a woman who would start the verses with a call and the congregation would complete the response with the full verse. After this organized singing, a church layman asked if anyone in the congregation wanted to sing a song in which case they would start singing, stand up and move into the middle of the aisle, and then anyone who wanted to sing with them would do the same, singing and dancing the whole time (it was SOO cool!). When they finally finished singing, the whole church was filled with the mixed sounds of the whole congregation suddenly bursting into their own individual prayers out loud. It took me by surprise at first, but after a few moments it seemed very natural and unforced for the people and I tried my best to participate without being too self conscious of being the only person in the congregation speaking English.

A few other observations about the church that struck me as interesting were that, at first before the church filled us, all the females were on one side of the aisle and all the males were on another. As the women continued to come in, the women filled in the empty spots in their section and overflowed into the male section. Then, when the people were still pouring in midway into the service and there were no more seats, the usher started kicking all the kids out of their seats and onto a mat on the floor located near the front of the church. After they had kicked all the children out of their seats, the rest of the people stood by the church’s entrance way watching or simply listened from outside the church. However, about 2/3 of the way through the service, a woman showed up carrying a baby and the usher decided to ask me to give up my seat (which I was okay with), but instead of asking me to stand in the back of the church or sitting on the floor, the usher reseated me on the church’s “stage,” seated alongside all of the church’s elders. I was very surprised to say the least, but very honored too (my host mom later told me that I was moved up there because I was very well dressed and they assumed me to be well educated). The experience wasn’t too scarring until about 2 hours into the service my host family decided it was time to return home and my brother proceeded to escort me out of the church while the pastor and the whole congregation silently watched me walk off the stage, down the aisle, and exit.

Everything is going well! Don’t worry about me :-)

One Love,

Michael

October 7th, 2009

It’s Wednesday night tonight and that means that my first week of training is actually halfway over. My brothers Eunicio and Ramadane are sitting next to me on my bed while I am writing this letter. Thinking about the comfort level that has formed between us makes it seem impossible that it has only been 6 days since we first met. Eunicio is only 3 years old and he is sooo cute! Right now is sitting here listening to my Brazilian music on my headphones and gyrating his body back and forth like crazy while dancing. Ramadane on the other hand is 11 years old, very serious, and is trying with all his might to be remain above the childish dancing motions that Eunicio and I are doing. Also in my host family are Carlota and Antonio (my parents), Lissaio and Lionor (my cousins), and Abu and Elisa (my other siblings). I’ll talk about the rest of my host family another day…

Anyways, as I was getting ready for my Peace Corps experience, one of my biggest worries was how much weight I might lose while here in Mozambique. Although I don’t know what the future will hold for me when I get permanently placed in a community somewhere else in Mozambique, the thought of being able to lose weight here in Naamacha during PST seems laughable to me now. I have had to practically throw a tantrum to get my host mom to let me stop eating when there is still food in front of me (and for those of you who know me and my eating habits really well, you all know that I don’t not finish my meals very often). Before you get the wrong impression though, the food I’m eating here in my host family’s house is GREAT and pretty similar to what I eat back in the states. In fact, today for lunch I even had fried chicken! The only big difference is that my family is feeding me like 5 times as much here as I would normally eat! Mentioning how much I eat actually brings up the fact that this all makes me feel pretty awkward because the rest of my family doesn’t seem to be eating nearly as much as I am. It’s not like any of the kids in my family are starving, or even hungry, but I am definitely getting more, especially of the more expensive food (ie chicken vs. rice).

On another note, after my initial encouraging start with speaking Portuguese here at PST, I’ve found myself very frustrated over the past few days because of constant shortfalls when trying to express myself more fully. I’ve noticed that later in the day I tend to be less attentive and less able to pick up on the small things. It is also really difficult when having to deal with several people speaking at once especially I’m meeting new people and dealing with groups of Mozambican people who tend to speak fast. One thing I’m worried about is having to remember people’s names when I finally get to my community in December. Right now it’s tough for me to understand people at first and it’s especially difficult to remember/pronounce names because many of them sound quite foreign to me. That said, I keep hearing my dad’s voice echoing in my head “Don’t be so hard on yourself Michael!” and that imaginary reassure makes me feel a little better.

At the end of the day I know I’m trying my best!

One Love,

Michael

October 9th, 2009

We just finished up our first week of training classes and tomorrow we are being rewarded by waking up early (5am) and taking local van/bus transportation, called a chapa, from Naamacha to Maputo. We haven’t gotten the chance to take a chapa yet, but their infamy and uniqueness has already reached our ears from current Peace Corps Volunteers (PVCs) who are helping out with training and from brief encounters as they speed by on the main road cutting through Naamacha. Chapas are an affordable means of travel for the average Mozambican and thus it is almost always overflowing with people to compensate for the lower price (when you think of riding in a chapa between cities, imagine a 15 passenger van with every row sitting 4 deep and then people sitting/standing in front of people are seated, for an hour!). I am not sure exactly what we are planning on doing in Maputo, but I think we are going to try and buy some stuff at a big market or mall area. I know that a lot of us are hoping to purchase cell phones, but we’ll see where my language group goes.

So yeah, even though all 65 of the Mozambique Peace Corps Trainees (PCTs) are in Naamacha for training, we are usually all together only 1 day a week for large group presentations. Otherwise, we are divided into two large groups: health and education. Then, within those two large groups, we are subdivided into language groups of 5-6 people. We meet daily in our language groups at one of the group member’s host family’s houses and typically join up with the larger health group later in the day to cover health related topics. Somehow I actually tested into the most advanced Portuguese language group and, although I might argue about my Portuguese speaking abilities, I guess I’ll have to thank Rosetta Stone for that one. The people in my language group, as are all of the PCTs, are very nice. Most of them have a very extensive background in Spanish and several of them are actually native speakers.

I need to wake up early, so I have to get to bed in a second. Just to let you know, I haven’t taken out my camera yet in Naamacha, but I think I will this upcoming week and then I’ll be able to upload some photos of my house, family, neighborhood, etc. for you all to see.

One Love,

Michael

If you already have sent me packages or letters to the previous address, the Peace Corps staff members tell me that I might or might not end up getting them. Sorry! The address you should send things to, effective immediately, is:

Michael Tudeen

Corpo da Paz Nº 345

Av. do Zimbabwe

Maputo, Mozambique

However, this address is only good until the 5th week of training or so (mid November). After that, please hold off on sending packages until I get my permanent site address for you all.

ALSO, the current Peace Corps volunteers have suggested that if you have to estimate the value of the package when sending something, never estimate it to be worth very much (>$20-30) because I’ll be the one who ends up having the foot the import fee when I try to pick the package up. On that note, if you have to indicate what is inside the package, don’t write things that are easily recognizable and make the package a target for thieves (ie. write ”Snacks” instead of “Food” or ”Educational materials” instead of ”movies/dvds”). Finally, if you want to increase the probability of the package not being tampered with EVEN MORE you can (apparently this works) write ”Jesus Saves” and/or put crosses all over the package/envelope.

Once again, the communication I´ll have with all of you for the next several weeks will be spotty at best. Thank you for the support! I love you all!

It’s Friday night here in Maputo and after 3 days of travel I can finally get another good night of sleep in a comfy bed. The Peace Corps has us booked in Hotel Cardoso (a sweet, high-end hotel located on top of a hill overlooking the bay) until Saturday, when we leave for Pre-Service Training, or PST.

The past several days have been a blur… after saying a final goodbye to my friends on Monday night, my family and I woke up at 4:30am on Tuesday morning and drove to the Gainesville airport to make my 6am flight. We got there a little late, but still with plenty of time to make the connection to Atlanta. When we got to the check-in counter, however, the attendant informed us that I would have to be bumped to the 12:40 flight. Although he never explicitly said that I couldn’t get on the 6am flight because it was full, my mom and I read between the lines and inferred that I was simply the odd man out when he informed us that there probably wouldn’t be room on the 7am flight because it was overbooked by 4 people. After a little struggle, we took my luggage back out to the car, loaded up, and drove home.

After the initial disappointment of missing the early flight subsided, I quickly realized there were a lot of benefits to it: I got to sleep for a few more hours, my goodbyes were delayed slightly, and the experience of my flights was changed (even though I wouldn’t realize it for the better until later in the day). When I showed back up at the airport at 11:30am, I checked in my luggage with ease and waited for the security check point to open up. As I said goodbye to my sister and dad, I was gladly surprised when I noticed that Alvaro, Ricky’s dad, was standing a few feet away from me and ready to board the same connecting flight to Atlanta that I was. As I waved goodbye to my family from the other side of the security checkpoint, I was comforted by Alvaro who enthusiastically talking about how great my upcoming journey would be. Although we weren’t able to sit together on the plane, Alvaro’s presence calmed me as the plane left the ground and ascended into the sky. As I looked out the window, I choked back the tears as I said goodbye to Gainesville and all the people who make it sooo special. Alvaro and I said a quick goodbye in the Atlanta airport as we headed our separate ways (he was going to a different terminal to go to California).

When I got on the next flight I was pleasantly surprised to be welcomed by a relatively empty flight that left the empty seat between me and another man empty. After the flight took off I started up some small talk and we quickly established why we were boarding a flight to Philadelphia. When he heard about my trip to Mozambique he grew very interested because he had just recently arrived home from a church mission trip to Mozambique and wanted to tell me about the experience that lay ahead of me. Overall, the trip to Philadelphia was a great success! Although I missed the flight and arrived very late to the Peace Corps Staging orientation, the two plane rides and their benefits definitely outweighed the negatives.

When I finally got to Philadelphia I was able to hit the town with a few Mozambique Peace Corps volunteers and chow down on some Phili Steaks before hitting the hay for 1 whole hour. The reason we got so little sleep was because the very next day we had to wake up at 2 am and take a bus to New York to catch our flight to Johannesburg, South Africa. The flight was pretty uneventful. I tried to adjust myself to the new time zone waiting for us when I got off the 15 hour flight by trying to sleep according to the new time, but it was a super fail. I ended up going to sleep almost immediately once I got on the plane and then being unable to sleep during the “night time” of the upcoming time zone. Gah!

When we finally got to Johannesburg it was a great feeling! My feet and legs were ridiculously swollen from staying so immobile on the flight, but that didn’t stop me from doing a little jig when I finally touched ground in Africa for the first time. The flight from Johannesburg to Maputo was quick and easy, but as we made our final descent and looked out at the country that I would be living for the next two years I couldn’t help but tremble in anticipation and feel so much excitement about what lies ahead.

Since being in Maputo we’ve pretty much just chilled in the hotel and gone through long days of meetings and vaccines. They interviewed us today to see how our Portuguese was going and I think I did alright… we’ll see! Tomorrow we’re leaving Maputo for the training village and I can’t wait to meet my host family who I’ll be staying with for the next 10 weeks!

I gotta go, but I’ll be keeping you up to date about things as they come around.

One Love,

Michael

P.S.- I will be getting a cell phone WITH INTERNET in like a week or two and you should be able to call me from skype or I might even be able to call you from skype! Who knows! Crazy that I go to a “third world country” and become more technologically advanced with my cell phone capabilities… :-)

I am flying from JFK in New York to Johannesburg via United Airlines flight 9186, leaving New York at 11:35am on Wednesday and touching down at 2:55am (EST) on Thursday. Then I'll be taking flight 144 on South African Air from Johannesburg to Maputo, leaving at 7:50am (EST)and arriving arriving at 8:55am (EST)on Thursday, Oct. 1st.

I'll be in Maputo for 3 days and then on Sunday, Oct 4th I'll go to Namaacha to do my pre-service training for 10 weeks. I'll make sure to do a blog post when I get to Maputo just to let you all know I got there safely.

One Love,

Michael

Check out this link (opens to a new tab) to read the Word document from the Peace Corps staff.

Yesterday marked the 2 month period before I leave for Mozambique. On that note, I can actually start thinking forward in terms of leaving the country and my countdown to departure for the Peace Corps can officially begin... again!

Things are shaping up pretty well for the departure too. This past week, Bryan was able to sell his car and now he has my car, so that's one thing less for me to worry about. This week I'm moving back into my Dad's house from the apartment downtown so things are sure to get pretty cramped with everyone living under 1 roof now... That said, it was a huge blessing to be given 2 months of free rent in Otto's room so I didn't have to be sleeping in such cramped conditions for the entire summer and it was really fun to be able to spend more time with Ricky and Serge. Thank you sooooo much Otto! I really appreciate it! We miss you here in Gainesville!

As I type this Ricky, Ronak, Carmen are all out of town so I'm pretty much just chilling around Gainesville working for Streetlight in the evenings without much else to do during the days. I just got back from spending the past week at ASP so the empty feeling of doing "nothing" is heightened because of how busy I stayed for the past week. I have been filling my mornings with guitar playing, reading news and I've even gone and done stadiums twice already since I got back from ASP.

Speaking of ASP, I'm going to spend the next few paragraphs talking about my experience this year... so hold on tight!

Like I mentioned above, I just got back from serving a week with the Appalachia Service Project through Trinity UMC in Dickenson County, Virginia. The trip was pretty sweet! This year Trinity sent about 55 volunteers and the group was then divided into works crews of 7 individuals with a few "floaters" who helped out where needed. My work crew was filled out by our team captain Charlotte, a recent high school graduate, the adults Allan and Anne (aka Mama Koon), and three youth, Jonathan, Ilan, and Chloe. This ASP trip was the first for Ilan, Chloe and Allan and I hope it was memorable for them. They did a great job and I hope that they were able to see and experience some things that will help them grow spiritually and emotionally like ASP has done with me.

The ASP staff in Dickenson County was really fun and cool to meet/get to know over the week while volunteering. I hope they enjoyed our presence as much as we enjoyed theirs (they honestly were some of the friendliest staff members we'd had the privilege of interacting with in the past several years). I believe that a lot of that comes back to the leadership of Mitch who was the center director in Dickenson. I have known Mitch for 2 years now dating back to his first summer on staff in 2007 and it was great to see him again! He is someone who has a very warm, welcoming, and yet calming personality and reaches out to others with God's love constantly. A great person to know and love for sure.

Going on ASP this summer was a very different experience for me because of the important distinction between Spring and Summer ASP, with youth leadership being a centerpiece during the Summer program. I was surprised to see some youth (not the youth on my team) complaining about others not having a good attitude, yet my team must have been very blessed because under the leadership of Charlotte everyone was able to stay positive, upbeat, and work hard for the whole week. Each one of us were able to contribute our personalities to balance out the group and make the week relatively stress free for everyone.

That said, I think that as the week was ending we were feeling the pinch of time because we knew there was plenty more to get done and at times we were getting caught up in construction too much. I know several times I lost focus on talking with Ms. Betty or her son Robert (the family members whose house we were working on) so I could focus solely on the construction. Likewise, we had to coach up Allan, a professional contractor, about the differences between the ASP construction site and a professional construction site back at home (markedly different with volunteer labor).

Coming back home from ASP is always tough. For a week you are surrounded by motivated, passionate individuals who are dedicated to making a difference in the world. Driving home and falling asleep in a comfortable bed on Saturday night far removed from the persisting needs of Appalachia is hard to reason. Looking ahead to my experience with the Peace Corps I know I will witness many more inequities and when I come home for medical school the feeling I have now will likely only be magnified.

In the meantime though, I've been thinking about my purpose for the next two months - what I hope to accomplish, what I need to get done. Thinking about this it seemed like a godsend that during Sunday's church service David Allen borrowed from a MLK speech and preached about "The Urgency of Now." Even though I have plans of service for the next two years starting in September and ultimately for the rest of my life, maybe it's time to get back involved with the here and now and try to eliminate that empty feeling I'm having right now.

So what am I going to do in the upcoming months? It's always a battle for me and I don't know exactly. Spending enough time learning and being a student so I can be well prepared for the future seems almost always in conflict with spending enough time being a doer so I am not constantly living in the future without accomplishing anything now. I reason that I need to spend a good chunk of time studying Portuguese and learning about Mozambique... but I want to do something more in the next two months. Any thoughts you guys?

I'll keep you all posted about my plans as I make them :-)

One Love,

Michael

I'd like to thank you all for your support over the past several days/weeks as my future plans were put in limbo. As it turns out I got reassigned to serve in Mozambique as a Community Health Promoter starting on September 28th, 2009. I am really excited and can't wait to get over there.

I am glad that you all came by and checked out my blog with its new web address. Please continue to check the new blog for updates about my adventures in Africa with the Peace Corps!

The PC called and told me that that the Mauritanian government couldn't process the visas on time (and that it has "nothing" to do with the shooting in the capital yesterday..hmm). I just called and sent an email to the placement office to see if I can be placed in another country (South/Central America?!) towards the end of the summer! We'll see! Be praying for me guys...

I was riding my bike this morning around the UF campus and passed by two women who were sitting and watching their 3 young children as they played in the fountain immediately west of the chemistry building. The three kids were decked out in bathing suits (so obviously this was a planned event which makes it all the better). As I biked past, I thought to myself how awesome it was that these kids were having the time of their lives simply running back and forth through a fountain yelling and laughing at each other. Seeing the smiles on their faces, I tried to remember the last time I was THAT happy. As I thought back over weeks of studying French and just hanging around it came to me (playing football and swimming at Ricky's dad's farm earlier in the Spring), and although it wasn't very long ago, it had been a while. In fact, as I get older it seems that I perceive less and less of my life to be THAT fun.

I began to wonder at what age we lose that innocence, become a little more aware and concerned with the world around us, and start to have less and less fun, when at that moment I looked down at the naked handlebars on my bike and realized that the night before someone must have stolen my front and rear bike lights. My emotions immediately flared up and I forgot all about the happy kids that were playing in the fountain behind me. "How dare someone steal something from me", I thought, as if the person who did it was purposefully seeking to hurt me. My fall from reminiscing about childhood innocence back to an adult reality was quick, emotional, and it all occurred over something relatively trivial.

Although my initial reaction was that of anger, I quickly put it in perspective: this was about replacing something pretty cheap and the whole situation was arguably my fault (i.e. I left my lights on my bike outside overnight). I don't know who stole my bike lights and I bet I'll never find out. However, as I rethink what was going through my head at that moment and reflect on what emotions this simple act of unkindness produced inside me, I begin to see how blessed I've been throughout my life with plenty of "God Moments" to balance out life's painful memories. Even though I've had a good amount of "life's not fair moments", I can't even imagine having to deal with the amount of pain that the homeless people I regularly see outside my apartment complex have been dealt during their lifetime.

I think it is difficult to take this position in more complex circumstances, but as I sat there looking at my bike I made the conscious decision not to extend the hurt that someone had done to me and instead continue to reach out positively towards others. I am almost certain that the same person who stole my bike lights will continue to do other hurtful things to other people, but the growing roots of hateful acts that started a long time ago in this person's life and are continuing to negatively impact others will, in this case, stop here with me.

I'm not a bible scholar by any means, but I believe that much of the Old Testament can speak to us in metaphorical terms as well as literal. With all of this spinning around my head, I can't help but picture the story in Genesis with the idea of first sin in the Garden causing the fall of man. Although we can't ever go back in time and undue the "fall" of a person, we can move forward without spreading the hatred that is extended outward because of it and possibly start working with others on an individual basis to reduce the pain in the lives of people who are experiencing it. Although I don't think it's a healthy goal to try and revert back to the foolishness of childhood antics (aimlessly running through a fountain), I believe we all need to take each other a little less seriously, have fun, and constantly try to extend our love to those who it's not easy to love.

Thank for reading this long, random post. Feel free to leave your comments.

Life was a lot simpler a few weeks ago. I had spent the past 5 years studying for tests, volunteering in and around the health care system, and traveling the world trying to get myself into a good medical school which would allow me to defer my matriculation for 2 years while I went to the Peace Corps. Although my initial desire to go to South America hadn't materialized, I welcomed the opportunity and challenge of going to NW Africa to serve my 2 year commitment through the Peace Corps. Just two weeks ago everything had come together and I had a plan: I was leaving for the Mauritania on June 17th and getting back to start medical school at USF in August 2011.

However, a few weeks ago UF College of Medicine contacted me to let me know that I had been offered a spot in the class of 2009. Considering that I had already been told by some UF COM staff that they weren't going to let me defer for the Peace Corps and considering I had already committed to USF, the emailed notification of acceptance did little more than cause me to raise my eyebrows as I glanced it over. When I went in to let the UF admissions staff know that I would be unable to accept the position in their class the following day, the director of the admissions office informed me that they would now seriously consider a deferral request from me for the Peace Corps and that my commitment to USF wasn't as binding or significant as I had made it out to be in my mind.

I spent the next several days mulling the decision over in my head. I already had my mind set on attending USF and it took me a few days of thought and prayer to even seriously start looking at UF again as a viable option for me. I had spent the past 4 months since committing to USF trashing UF and convincing myself it wasn't the place for me: I needed a change of scenery, it would be good to broaden my academic horizons, my success as a doctor isn't about medical school rankings, my medical experiences being limited to Shands would give me a narrow perspective on practicing health care, etc. It took a lot of phone calls, meetings, and casual conversations for me to realize what even really matter most to me in the decision. It wasn't until I spoke with my family, friends, and the people affiliated with UF/Shands that I understood how much I wanted to remain close to my family and that the change I desired will still there for me at UF because of how different things will likely be after coming back from 2 years with the Peace Corps.

On Friday May 29th, I went to UF and gave them the paperwork and deposit that was required for them to consider my request for deferral. I anxiously awaited the news and finally, on Friday June 5th just 10 days before my scheduled departure for Mauritania, I got a letter in the mail confirming that they had granted me a 2 year deferral for the Peace Corps... Awesome feeling, amazing day...

Leaving the medical school decision behind me, I continued to get ready for my trip to Mauritania. Every day I spent time buying little things here and there, trying to gain as much weight as possible, practicing my French, and progressively saying goodbye to friends as they left town. Last night, June 8th i.e. less than 1 week before I was leaving for Staging, I got a call a Peace Corps representative letting me know that the trip to Mauritania had been delayed for the entire group of 60+ volunteers because the Mauritanian government hadn't approved any Peace Corps visas. The representative informed me that due to political turmoil surrounding the upcoming mid-July elections they haven't been approving any visas for some time now, but that the Peace Corps had hoped to get their visas through due to their good relationship with the government. A week before the trip was set to start and no visas yet processed, they finally felt it was time to postpone the trip. Although the Peace Corps person I talked to on the phone didn't give me any exact date, I heard from other future volunteers that they were hoping for an August 11th departure. We'll see! In the meantime, I'm going to try to meet up with Amy, the UF Peace Corps recruiter, and see if I can get nominated for a second program just in case this August departure date gets delayed even further... I'll keep you all posted as I hear things. I hope all is well!