A lot has happened since my last blog update. Last I wrote was when I had site visitors from the new volunteer training group. Since then in mid-July I’ve been to the COS conference, so I’ve been closing out my service, saying goodbye, and reflecting on the past two years.

The last weekend of July was the COS Conference, and it was nice. COS stands for “close-of-service”, so the conference was specifically for all the volunteers in the group I arrived with two years ago. All 70 of us were brought to spend the weekend at a nice hotel in Maputo and we had sessions about out-processing on our given COS dates (mine is November 10th!), we also discussed RPCV benefits, and re-adjusting to American life and saying farewell to Mozambique. What was most helpful was talking about re-integrating into American life. Here’s some of the stuff we discussed during over the weekend.

It’s a strange feeling knowing I’m going home soon. I’m excited to go home and be with my family and friends again, but it’s also sad having to say goodbye to the people I’ve grown to love here. I’ve never felt so many different emotions about a transition like this.

I’ve adjusted to Mozambican life, even the way I speak English has changed a bit. I’ve had to learn Portuguese, so when speaking to other PCVs here during our conversations we’ll throw in Portuguese words and phrases to express ourselves. For example, if an American friend says to me here, “I’m going to go do this, so wait for me.” I would reply, “Ok, well are you going to demorar?” And sometimes I accidentally shoosh my S’s like Mozambicans… I won’t be able to do that when I go home. I might accidentally come out with that and then it will just be awkward.

I’ve missed a lot since I’ve been here. I’ve missed holidays, weddings, graduations, birthdays, anniversaries, current events, a funeral, my sister’s baby shower and the birth of my first nephew. For the rest of my life I feel like there will always be a gap when talking to friends and family about things that happened during this time.

What else will change in my life? I’m going to lose my rock star status. It may sound conceited to say, but it’s totally true that I’m a celebrity in my community. Everyone knows who I am. Other PCVs would understand what I’m talking about. Along with that status you receive a lot of unwanted attention, which has been a constant annoyance throughout my service, so I’m REALLY looking forward to fitting in again.

One of the best things to come out of this experience are the friendships I’ve made. I feel like after this it will be hard to relate to people back home about certain things. When I go back home and people ask me about my Peace Corps service, there’s only so much I can say while I have someone’s attention to share with them. How do I briefly describe over two years of experiences? During COS conference we talked about creating an “elevator speech”, which is how to describe all of your Peace Corps service in a matter of minutes before the person loses interest. I’m still working on mine, but y’all be ready for that!

Amidst the feelings about coming home, excitement is the most prevalent! I’m REALLY looking forward to being around my friends and family again. I’m sure I won’t have much of a hard time re-adjusting to running water, air conditioning, hot showers, Mexican food, fresh coffee, big comfy couches and malls. The list goes on…

I’m so grateful for this experience it’s helped me personally and professionally. So, what’s next for me? I’m not 100% sure yet and I’d be lying if I said that doesn’t scare me. But, I’m confident that I will get into grad school, that I’ll get into nursing school if I pursue that, that I’ll graduate with excellent grades, that I’ll find a good job that I like, that I’ll always be in the right place at the right time, and that I will forever appreciate the people and the things in my life. I feel like there’s nothing I can’t do and like nothing can bring me down.

My Peace Corps service is actually coming to an end. I’M COMING HOME, AMERICA!!!!!!!!!

I got a puppy a few months ago, his name is Chance. He’s the third dog I’m attempting to raise. The other two puppies disappeared. I only have a few months left here, so he’s my last Chance to raise a dog. Yesterday I was making dinner for Naa and me at my house as she was getting her hair braided. Chance is still small and I bought a collar for him that is way too big. The collar is a belt, and I had to poke an extra hole so it’d fit, and so the slack of the belt hangs and drags across the ground as he walks around. It’s a pretty funny sight. Chance is a “hot mess” as Naa would say because he is always barking and chasing something; his tail, a pig, a kid, whatever. In the midst of our conversation I heard Chance outside the kitchen window barking bloody murder. I look out and he’s in the entrance of our yard watching the kids walk home from school. He was in “downward dog” position with his butt in the air and his head to the ground, barking at this one little boy who was about five feet away from him, tantalizing him in the local language. The kid would run up to Chance, then run back, and yell something. Chance did not like that, it was drawing the attention of other children and they’d stop and join in. Then Chance would run from side to side and just keep barking. I guess he barked long enough because then I heard the other grown dog from our yard start barking and howling at the kids. Then he came charging in the direction of the kids, they immediately started screaming and running away, and on his way out he trampled Chance. Literally. Chance was trying to run in front of him but the dog literally ran over him, knocked him over and Chance flipped forward. He got up, shook himself off, and came back inside. The scene was really funny to watch. “Oh the ways we find to entertain ourselves in Peace Corps.” I said to Naa.

I have been in Peace Corps Mozambique for about a year and ten months now. One of the first blogs I wrote was about “site visit” in October 2009 I was sent to the Tete province to visit two PCVs to see what it’s really like being a volunteer here. I’m proud to say that I’ve been here long enough to be on the other end of that spectrum. The new group of health volunteers arrived last month and they are currently in training in Namaacha, living with host families, learning Portuguese and culture and health tech stuff. This past week Peace Corps sent two trainees to come stay with me for a few days to show them the area, show them my work, and talk to them about life as a PCV.

Last Saturday was preparation day. Naa and I ventured into the city and bought a ton of food. Not really, but to me it was. We bought enough to feed three people for a week or two. We stocked up on vegetables, pasta, cheese, baking supplies, and ground beef-such a treat considering I hardly ever eat meat here. (Side note: people ask me what I eat here. Those few days our menu at my house consisted of eggplant parmesan and spaghetti, taco salad, quesadillas, pizza, and eggs & pancakes...without syrup.) It was good that we ran those errands then because it’s rainy season and it was not easy carrying everything while trudging through all the mud and traffic and cold weather, not something fun for people new to here to have to do.

They arrived Sunday. We volunteers took our trainees to the Indian Restaurant in Xai Xai. It was nice until I started getting sick from something I ate and spent the rest of the evening in bed with a stomach ache from hell and vomiting. No worries, things like that happen here often and they go as quick as they come.

Monday I took my two trainees to the small hospital where I work. I had scheduled a meeting with the women (activistas) I work with to fall on that day, and surprisingly the majority showed up. Late as usual, but they showed up. After giving them a tour, the trainees asked me what I did there and I explained how I’ve been going on home visits with the activistas visiting patients living with HIV/AIDS to monitor their treatment adherence. As we were waiting for more activistas to arrive, I thought it’d be a good idea for them to get an idea of what it’s been like for me working with these women in the community. So, I sent them on their way. I paired each trainee up with two activistas, and I told them to go on a home visit in the near area. My only a criterion for them was to invite the person they visit to come to the hospital to take an HIV test and to learn one phrase in the local language, Chengana. They didn’t look too thrilled for this activity; they were concerned about their role and language. “Just stick to the goal of the visit, and get used to the feeling about being worried about your role and language, because that’s Peace Corps.” Upon arrival, one of the trainees was sprinting back to the hospital with the women I sent her along with. She was saying something in Chengana that I had no idea what; she said she learned how to say “RUN!” They told me how their visits went. I gave them suggestions and shared my experiences. The meeting with the group started. It was my opportunity to talk to the activistas about them starting an income generation project, building a garden in the hospital, and about home visits. They decided that for their income generation project, they want to run an estaleiro, selling firewood and coal- the most used materials that people use to cook here. Those are on my list of things-to-do before I COS (close-of-service) aka before I LEAVE.

After lunch we went to Dona Angela’s house. Dona Angela is an activista at the hospital. She is my co-worker, my friend, someone I really look up to. She has taught me a lot about life and I will miss her dearly after I leave. I’ll have to write a whole other blog entry in tribute to her. Anyway, we went to her house because Angela and I started a REDES group. REDES, once translated to English, stands for Teenage girls In Development, Education, and Health. Angela and I have a group of local teenage girls we meet with on a weekly basis to do activities such as crafts and theater and use them as opportunities to talk about health and self-esteem. The trainees met some of the girls from the group; most of them were at school. They asked one of the girls that came what she liked about REDES and she said, “I like that we learn new things, it’s fun, and I’m around my friends.”

Tuesday I took the trainees to the orphanage and to two CBOs (community-based-organizations). We toured the orphanage and played games with the kids, and I discussed my book project with one of the administrators. After that I took them to one CBO near the hospital where we have monthly nutrition support groups with HIV+ women and their children. The other CBO I took them to is located in the city of Xai Xai, so we traveled there and unfortunately they were closed. But I still told them about what they do and about what I’ve done with them for the past year: a permaculture project, establishing a relationship with another organization in Maputo that might need their support, etc. After those two days of hard work, we hit the beach.

During their stay the trainees were able to give me some recent films that I’ve missed out on over the past 2 years, and they also filled me in on technology, fashion and politics. I now know the difference between an Android, an iPhone, and a tablet. My response to them about “Blockbuster” going out of business was, “I don’t understand.”

Apparently American women like to sew feathers into their hair now? They told me child obesity continues to rise and its predicted that by 2015 50% (I think that was the percentage, don’t quote me) of American children will be diagnosed with Type II diabetes. What I took away from that conversation was that our population continues to grow older, fatter, technologically advanced, and unique. With all of your inventions, issues, and controversies, I love you, America.

Besides me showing them my site and work, the trainees asked me about my coping skills, what’s been the hardest, when was the hardest, and if I wish I had been given specific advice when I was a trainee. I told them I journal, talk to other PCVs, email friends, take the dog for a walk, and of course listening to music has all helped me cope. I told them everything has been hard for me here: being away from home, my role as a volunteer, staying motivated and productive, loneliness, receiving unwanted attention, being broke all the time. I told them that for me, the hardest throughout this journey has been homesickness; because that is constant. I miss the people I love to a degree that I can’t even describe. I told them that all of those things are hard, and that by far the most difficult point in my service was my first two months at site. I said then it’s really hard because you’re really alone, you don’t know anybody and you don’t speak the language well yet, and I was sick a lot during that time due to stress. I told them that I wish that as a trainee that I had been told to enjoy training. Many of the PCVs that visited us during training told us that “things are so much better after training; life is so much easier once you get to your site.” I told them that’s not true and that it’s all hard in its own way, but it’s totally worth it. I’m thankful for this experience. It has made me better and I’ve grown a lot as an individual.

After those questions, we shared experiences here. One of the trainees reminded me of myself in the beginning when I heard her say to the other, “Ummmm, there are cockroaches in the latrine, covering the inside!” The trainees left on Wednesday to return to Namaacha. They have their final interviews this week with our PC supervisor. They will find out next week where their sites will be, so I will soon know who will be replacing me- picking up my work and living with me during my last 3 months here. It was a good site visit, especially since I was the host and not the rookie!

Dear America,

My time here is getting shorter. I will be ending my service in November. I have about a month left to raise the rest of the money for the Books for Kids project for the orphanage before the month of August ends. I think I have about a thousand dollars or so left to raise. I thank you for any contributions made or to be made.

I’m asking that you donate only $2 today. That’s half of what you’ll spend for a drink at Starbucks. If everyone I know donated two dollars, I’d raise the rest of the money soon enough.

The books are for the kids, it’s a great opportunity. I need you to help me to make this project come true. Every little bit helps. Click on the link below to do so.

https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.donatenow&keyword=mozambique

Thank you and God Bless,

Mallory

Earlier this year, I posted that I was trying to write a grant to receive books for an orphanage located near my house in Xai Xai. I’m pleased to say that I finished and submitted the grant and the fundraiser is now online where YOU can go and make a contribution to this cause. Ok so here’s a quick description of the project…

There’s an organization called “Books for Kids”. They are able to deliver educational children’s books written in Portuguese (the national language in Mozambique) along with a shelving unit and then they send someone to facilitate a local training to teach local counterparts librarian skills and how to facilitate group reading with children. The only thing they lack is FUNDING. So, as a PCV I had the opportunity to write a Peace Corps Partnership Program grant. Once approved, a fundraiser is set up online through the Peace Corps website (link posted below). Once you click on the link there you will find a more detailed description of this project.

I wrote a grant to implement this project at the provincial orphanage of Gaza, located here in Xai Xai not too far from my house. Here are some frequently asked questions I’ve been receiving:

1. What are the books about that the orphanage will be receiving?

-There are 200 children’s books to be delivered. The books are simple children’s books, picture books, and some have health related material. Unfortunately, I don’t have a list of the books that will be sent, but from my understanding, the books are wholesome and some teach the importance of a healthy lifestyle, respecting others, etc.

2. Are any of the books religious?

-No.

3. What is the community contribution part of the project?

-The orphanage’s contribution is the actual sustainability of the project.

4. How is it that there are only fifty orphans at an orphanage for a whole province?

-In Mozambique, children whose parents have died may not be considered orphans as long as they have other family members to take care of them. The provincial orphanage of Gaza “only” has fifty orphans because they really have no one else to care for them and they were brought here.

5. How can you tell how much money has been raised so far?

-The initial project cost was $3,093. When you click on the link and see the option of where to donate money, it will tell you how much money is currently needed. You can subtract that from the initial cost.

Next week I’ll try to post some pictures of the orphanage. Thank you all ahead of time for any contribution.

Click here to go and make a contribution to my project:

https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.donatenow&keyword=mozambique

Being in Peace Corps is not all fun and games. It's tough. It's tough being far from home and not talking to friends & family on a regular basis and it's constantly tough defining your role as a Volunteer. I appreciate all the support I've gotten from back home since I've been here. It keeps me sane. Real quick, I just wanted to take a minute to give some shout outs and say a few thank yous to:

Mom & Dad- My greatest supporters. Though it's been difficult, thank you for supporting me unconditionally with cards and care packages and being available to call me when I need to talk. I love you and miss you

My Sister, Alison- thank you for the cards and updates on my beautiful new nephew :) and for being there to talk to me.

My granny, aunts, and uncles and other relatives- Thank you ALL for the endless cards and occasional packages of love

Ms. Jill- Thank you SO much for donating your old BB to me! I haven't gotten it yet but I will let you know as soon as I do. I REALLY appreciate it and the timing is perfect considering my other phone recently quit working. I miss you and love you and I'm looking forward to us all catching up at the end of the year.

Karissa- my best friend on the planet. I love you girl and I miss you SO much. I know your busy back home but thank you for being able to text me and email me on a regular basis. Thank you for going shopping for me for when my parents need to send me something. (My mom would be lost in the mall lookin for what I need!) You are such an amazing friend. Give your family hugs for me and tell them I'll be there for dinner in November.

Sara- Thank you so much for the care packages, you have NO idea how much they mean to me and how much I enjoy them. They always make my day/week/month. Such a sweet heart!

ALL my close girl friends, including: Kristyn, Karissa, Brandy, Sara, Taylor & Lindsey...Thank you girls for being there to listen and give good advice and feedback, from across the world. I miss you all!

Pete- Thanks for the lil package of goodies, it made my day! I miss you and I must say, my Peace Corps experience just isn't the same without you. I miss you buddy, see ya on tha other side someday :)

Thank you to all of my other friends who make themselves available to skype with me occasionally. It means so much!

All of my mom's students and our family friends- thank you for the occasional letters and care packages.

If I forgot ANYBODY at the moment, I apologize, I have not forgotten I'm just pressured right now to be quick because I'm paying by the minute and I'm on a budget...Thank you to all again, for your support and love.

XOXO

The month of April was a rough month. I spent all my monthly allowance too soon, and so the rest of the month I only had a hundred meticais to get me through. A hundred meticais is equal to about three US dollars. Sadly, I’m really not exaggerating. The same thing happened with Naa. We struggled together. During that month, we really learned how to stretch a dollar and how to stay positive while doing it.

I really dislike not having the money to buy the things I want or to go places I’d like to see. I live in a beautiful region in the world, and I don’t even have the money to travel to places here that I’d like to see. Peace Corps recently gave us our W-2 for 2010, which, I believe showed that I earned less than $3,000 for all of last year. But then again, that’s not why I joined Peace Corps and I don’t really think of myself as poor. I have options, through Peace Corps and back home. I was never truly worried about what I was going to eat. I trust my neighbors wouldn’t let me go hungry, nor would my parents if it came to that. I’ve seen suffering in the eyes of patients in the hospital, children without family, people dying from AIDS. And so I know I have not truly suffered.

With that being said, being broke is not really fun. But somehow, being so broke and waiting for our next paycheck every day gave Naa and me the opportunity to be a bit dramatic and we had fun while doing it.

I talk to Naa every morning. We call each other and talk about our plans for the day and encourage each other. I called her one morning to see how she was hanging in there, because the day before she was unable to come to Xai Xai because she couldn’t find a ride because she couldn’t pay to take a bus. When I called her she said she was making oatmeal for breakfast and was going to come to Xai Xai today to go to the bank. I heard her cat meowing loudly in the back ground. She was talking about something and I had to interrupt her to ask,

“OMG Naa, what is Sadie fussin over?”

“Girl, this cat is TOO much right now. She’s fussin because I gave her a little bit of oatmeal for breakfast and now she’s lookin at me like ‘You expect me to eat this? Woman where are those eggs you used to give me or that canned cat food at?’ “

Naa cracks me up. I wish I could record the things she says and put it in this blog.

In response to her cat, laughing at the same time, Naa said to her, “LOOK Sadie, we goin through HARD TIMES right now. PROLLY cause I was buyin you eggs and canned cat food in the FIRST place. I don’t know WHERE you think those things come from, cat, but those things cost money and are NOT cheap. And now part of the reason we strugglin is cause of your high cost meals so don’t you look at me like that and just EAT what is given to you!”

After laughing about that for a minute, she asked me how my puppy is doing. I said he’s ok, ridden with fleas but ok and energetic and thankfully he eats whatever I give him. He’s not picky so he’s gonna make it.

We met in the city later that afternoon. I wanted to mail a letter but couldn’t. I wanted to go to use the internet but couldn’t. I wanted to buy more credit to talk on my phone but couldn’t. So rough. We met at a gas station across the street from KFC. It still wasn’t open at that point, which is probably a good thing. Just one less temptation. We decided to go to the bank first. The bank here requires that your account always has at least 500 meticais. We went to the ATM and Naa had about 533 meticais in her account. I had about 600 somehow so AWESOME I got to withdraw my last 100 MTN. Naa and I decided to go inside and ask if we could withdraw our untouchable minimum of 500. Our game plan was to sweet talk the bank lady and butter her up so she might cut us some slack. Our game plan was to compliment her and engage in small talk. Mozambicans love small talk.

As usual, the lobby was full and lines don’t exist here so there were about fifty people crowding the counter. Naa and I pushed our way through until we were right in front of the lady we needed to talk to. We both said good afternoon. I asked her how she was doing. Naa complimented her hair. I asked her how is your work going, how is your health and family and do you like this weather outside? Naa complimented something she was wearing. After this 3 minute exchange of sucking up and using our best charm, the lady asked how could she help us today.

Naa and I looked at each other and smiled. She went on to ask her if she could withdraw money from her account. “Of course,” the lady said, and handed her a blue withdrawal slip. Naa started to fill it out. Knowing that we wouldn’t be able to withdraw the minimum 500, I decided to take one step forward before Naa finishes filling out that slip only for the lady to tell us it’s not possible to withdraw that minimum 500.

In Portuguese, my only chance to convince her, I said, “Ma’am, my friend and I understand that to hold an account here, you must maintain a minimum of 500 meticais in your account. We understand that, but right now we are really without money until next month. We are requesting that we may be able to withdraw all or part of that minimum 500, because it’s really all we have right now and it would help us a lot.” I impressed myself after I said it. SURELY she would say yes.

She said no. She said she can’t do that. She apologized. Then Naa went on and told her how she has 533 meticais in her account and that she would like to with draw the extra 33 meticais available. The lady looked at her and said, “You really want to withdraw just 33 meticais?” Naa said yes, and continued to fill out the blue slip. Then she looked at me with her eyebrows raised and with a joking tone in her voice, in English she said, “Did I stutter? YOU KNOW HOW MANY PIECES OF BREAD those 33 meticais will get me?! That’s a week o’ food, girl! Actually, screw this let’s just go. We’ll figure somethin’ out.”

We thanked the lady and left. We decided to go to my house because I remembered my empregada (maid) cooked for me. The meal she made cost about 10 meticais. While we were eating we made a budget for next month and decided we must manage the little money that we earn each month better because we can’t keep struggling like this. It’s already hard enough here and even more so when you’re broke! Naa tried to make a phone call but couldn’t because she didn’t have any credit. “Man Mal, the Lord is TESTIN us right now. Girl these are hard times…I hope we get paid soon cause I been havin to go visit my neighbors more often to eat dinner with them and the lady I been buyin bread and bagias from is gettin to know me pretty well…” Bagias are fried bean patties. Mozambicans are very caring people, they always feed their visitors. One of my Mozambican friends told me it’s because they just don’t know where their visitor is coming from and whether or not they’ve eaten or what, so they must offer them food.

After we ate we decided to walk to the city from my house for Naa to catch a ride home. As we were walking we ran into one of my friends, Viegas, who was also a good friend of a former PCV. We stopped to talk to him and he told Naa he had a Portuguese Bible for her. Then he ran into his house and Naa told me she didn’t know what he was talking about, she couldn’t remember how she met him or why he wanted to give her a Bible. He soon skipped his way back to us and handed Naa a green Bible wrapped in plastic.

“Sweet, this’ll help my Portuguese…thanks!” and off we went. We walked quite a way not saying anything for a minute so I asked her if she was alright.

Grabbing her purse, she said, “Yeah I’m good it’s just that I’m tired and this Bible is kind of heavy!”

“Dang girl, it sounds like the Lord is really weighin on you right now!” I said jokingly

Her jaw dropped and we both started laughing, “True that, God is TESTIN US right now during these hard times!”

We made it through the month with as little as we had. We made a budget and have been sticking to it pretty well. Though I didn’t write specific examples, we tried to help each other out as much as we could with what we did have. Other people also helped us along the way by giving us rides and food. And so I learned: When I am going through something difficult, I just need to be patient and reach out.

Now, whenever something or somebody annoys us, or when we’re out of money, or when we’re frustrated or sad or angry, Naa and I are able to laugh and say to each other,

“GOD MUST BE TESTING ME RIGHT NOW!”

Last week, Kentucky Fried Chicken made its way and opened up in Xai Xai. It’s just as nice if not nicer than the KFCs in the States. Naa and I went for the first time last week. Naa is a fellow PCV and a dear friend of mine. The drive thru signs are in English, so we assumed this KFC is owned by South Africans. We wanted to find out.

As soon as we walked in, we felt like we were back in America. We needed a quick reality check so we had to look back outside to see the sand and kids on the street and women in kapulanas to remind us yes, we ARE in an American fast food chain restaurant in Xai Xai. In Mozambique. In Africa. Before I joined Peace Corps, I never thought that would be possible. When we walked in, we immediately spotted the ice cream machine and the fryers in the back. Unfortunately they don’t have fountain drinks or biscuits, just fridges full of canned sodas and shelves full of rolls stored in plastic bags. The workers were in uniform at the cash registers. We go to the cash register guy on the left, he was the first to see us and give us a big kool-aid smile and say “Welcome to KFC”. We look up and the menu is limited and in Portuguese. No problem, it was still a big deal for us to take a break from rice and beans!

Before we ordered, Naa wanted to ask the guy who owned the place.

So she asked, “Who owns this place?”

“Sorry?”

“I mean, who owns this KFC? Is it owned by South Africans?”

“This is Mozambique.” he answered.

He didn’t understand her. I asked him, “Where is the owner of this KFC from?” He gave us a puzzled look.

Naa tried one more time. “Is the owner of this KFC South African?”

“Oh. I understand your question. No.” he said.

The look on his face changed, got a little serious looking. He looked as though he had a secret. His voice changed and leaned towards us.

He spoke softly and said, “The owner is not South African…”

Naa and I looked at each other and started laughing because of the miscommunication and because such a simple question led to such confusion and we weren’t expecting the owner to be so mysterious. We laughed even harder when we realized he was still serious. For a second I thought he was going to tell us something really cool and shocking. The way he was acting, I was thinking maybe he is about to tell us Oprah Winfrey is the owner and SURPRISE she’s in the back of the store right now and is going to make your dreams come true for all of your hard work and sacrifice. Or not. Wishful thinking.

He started again and said, “There is only one owner of all KFCs…”

Naa, laughing, asked, “Oh my gosh, WHO? Do you know him?!”

With notable disappointment, he said “No…I do not know him personally…”

He picked up a packet of ketchup and smiled as he held it in his hands looking at it like he still had something to say. Naa and I were laughing pretty hard now. I cry when I laugh so tears were streaming down my face and I’m sure my mascara was running but I didn’t care. We were on a high at this point. We were in KFC in Africa and we’re about to get surprised by Oprah Winfrey, the way this guy’s acting! Anything’s possible, right? Look where we are!

After a minute we regained our composure. Naa let out a big sigh and an “OOOOHHHHHH” while shaking her head and with her hand on her hip she slapped her other hand down on the counter and looked at the guy.

“So…who is it?”

He was quiet. Still looking down at the packet of ketchup in his hands. He picked it up and held it in front of us.

He smiled and said, “This guy right here.” And pointed to the little black and white picture of Colonel Sanders.

Dear Readers,

I'm sorry I haven't written lately. I don't really have any excuse but to say that things that others might find interesting have just become normal to me and therefore I have fallen off the bandwagon of blogging regularly. I'll try to be better about it. I'm in my second year of service now (8 months left!). I do have many new experiences to share with everyone but I'm sorry, right now I'm short for time. I'm writing this entry to ask those back home for your support. I'm just going to cut to the chase and fill y'all in.

The literacy rate in Mozambique is 50%. One in two people cannot read or write. Mozambique is also very affected by HIV/AIDS. About one in five people is living with the disease. Both of these stats include children. Also, there happens to be an orphanage near me in my community. Mozambique's national language is Portuguese. Few countries in the world share it as a national language, about less than five and the majority of those are underdeveloped countries as well. So, books in Portuguese are hard to come by, including children's books. That leads me to explain...

There is an organization called Livros Para Criancas aka Books For Children. They are an organization willing to provide children's books in Portuguese, they just need funding to ship the books to Moz. Some of the books that will be sent include books that teach healthy livestyle practices. The organization will also provide a book case and a training for the orphanage staff on how to care for the books and also how to facilitate children's reading groups. This is to ensure the sustainability of the project.

So, as a Peace Corps Volunteer, I have the opportunity to write a grant to make this happen. Through Peace Corps, I can write a Peace Corps Partnership grant, where people back home can donate money for the project funds. The cost of the project is $3,000 USD. However, part of this particular grant requires that the community being benefitted contributes a certain amount. So, the community is to donate $750 and $2,250 from outside donors.

This is one of my goals before my time is up in November. After I submit the grant application, the project will be posted online where people can go to submit donations.

OK so I will be honest, I have been putting off this grant for about a month now because it's kind of complicated, I can't open the application on my computer so I have to come to an internet cafe, and I've been busy with a few other work things lately. Anyways, no more excuses. I'm telling the world about this for 2 reasons:

1. Encourage me to get this grant done. It's really important to me but it's getting harder to complete. I am publicly announcing this because now I have said I'm going to do something, so I have to do it.

2. The grant asks for contact information for donors. Even though the project will eventually be online for everyone to donate money to, it asks for contact info in order to mail the project info directly to donors. Donors can be businesses, organizations, churches or individuals. You can e-mail me this information if you'd like.

That's what's up, everyone! Here's some more information I copy/pasted from Peace Corps FAQ's sheet about donating money to PC projects.

I miss you all and love you all back home soooo much. I thank you all for the support you've given me and I thank you all for continuing your support. I am forever grateful!

XOXO,

MAL

FAQ’S

Is my donation to the Peace Corps tax-deductible?

Yes. All gifts or bequests to the Peace Corps are gifts to the United States for exclusively public purposes within the meaning of section 170(c)(1) of the Internal Revenue Code and are deductible as charitable contributions under section 170(a) of the Code. Once the donation has been processed a thank you letter will be sent, which can be used as a tax receipt. The name on the tax receipt will reflect the account owner on the credit card or check.

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Will I get a receipt to use for my taxes?

Yes. You will receive an official thank you letter, stating the amount you donated, which can be used as a receipt for tax purposes.

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How much of my donation will go to a Volunteer Project?

Every penny! Your entire donation to the Partnership Program will be directed to a Volunteer project. No part of your donation will be used to cover staff or overhead costs of running the Partnership Program, as the office is supported by congressionally appropriated funds to the Peace Corps.

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Why isn't the project showing up when I search for it?

There are a couple reasons a project may not be online. In most cases, when a project is no longer online, it has been fully funded. Occasionally, projects have not yet been received by the Partnership Program and are not yet online. In rare cases, the system may be undergoing maintenance, and as a result some projects may not show up. Please check the website the next day to see if the project is online. If it is not there or if you need any additional information call our office (1-800-424-8580 x2170) or e-mail (pcpp@peacecorps.gov) and a staff member would be glad to confirm the status of the project.

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I would like to search for a specific project. How do I do that?

If you have received a letter or e-mail about donating and you have the Volunteer's name and/or project number, use the search to:

Enter only the Volunteer's last name.

-or-

Enter the project number. Make sure to add the hyphen: 555-555 (example)

-or-

Search by the Volunteer's country of service.

If the project does not show up - most likely it has already been fully funded. In rare cases, the system may be undergoing maintenance, and as a result a project will not show up. Please check the website the next day to see if the project is online. If you would like verification or any additional information, please call our office at 1-800-424-8580 x2170 or e-mail at pcpp@peacecorps.gov and a staff member would be glad to confirm the status of the project.

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My child/friend/relative has a project that was funded. Why haven't they received their money yet?

After a project has been fully funded, Partnership Program staff work with the Peace Corps Budget Office to obligate the funds. Once this is complete, funds must be transferred to the Volunteer by check or Electronic Funds Transfer. The whole process may take between two weeks to one month for money to be received by a Volunteer.

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I just donated, but the website didn't update the amount raised. Why?

The Partnership Program uses Pay.gov to securely process donations. Once a donation has been entered on-line, it can take up to three business days before it will be reflected on the website.

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I donated to a project and would like to know the results. How can I find out more?

If you donated to a Volunteer project, you may request a copy of the Final Report submitted by the Volunteer once the project is completed. Send an e-mail to pcpp@peacecorps.gov with your name, address, the Volunteer's name, and the project number that you donated to and we will provide you with further information. Or, you may give us a call at 1-800-424-8580 x2170 and a staff member would be happy to take your information.

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I would like to donate, but I don't live in the United States. How can I donate?

Yes, you may donate if you are outside of the United States. When you decide what project, Special Fund, or Country Fund that you would like to donate to, you will be asked to provide your contact information. Unfortunately, it will ask you to provide a State (in the United States). If you do not fill in a State, the website will not allow you to continue donating. In this case, we ask that you fill in any State, to allow the donation to continue. Once you have been transferred to the Pay.gov site, you will be allowed to update your contact information.

IMPORTANT NOTE: The Pay.gov website only accepts Visa, MasterCard, American Express, Discover, and Diner's Club cards.

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I don't want to donate online - how else can I donate?

Although donating on-line is the fastest way for Volunteer projects to get funded, you may also donate by mail or over the phone:

Send a check to:

Peace Corps Headquarters

Office of Private Sector Initiatives

1111 20th Street, NW

Washington, DC 20526

Please make check payable to Peace Corps Partnership Program

Please also note the project number, Special Fund name, or Country Fund name in the memo section of the check.

(Please print and mail this donation form with your check, so we may contact you with information regarding your donation, if necessary.)

-or-

Call the office and we can take credit card information over the phone (1-800-424-8580 x2170)

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I'd like to make a donation in honor of/in memory of someone. Is that possible?

Yes. If you are donating on-line, please enter this information in the "comments" box. You will receive a thank you letter for your donation. However, if you would like us to send a letter to the person (or family of the person) that you are honoring, please include their name and address in the "comments" box as well. Or if you are going to mail a check you may fill in this information on the donation form. Of course, you may also give us this information over the phone (1-800-424-8580 x2170).

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What happens if a project receives more than the requested amount?

We are only able to fund a project up to the amount that a Volunteer requests. Once a project becomes fully funded, any extra funds will be allocated to the Global Fund where they will be used to support Partnership Program projects Worldwide.

I want everyone to know how much what happened today means to me. First of all, let me say that the people at the post office here in XX are difficult to deal with at times because they can get pretty busy and because it takes FOREVER to get a care package then when it finally arrives you have to wait HOURS for customs to come to open your box and sign off on stuff. One time they told me they lost a care package of mine, just to find out that someone had placed it in the back waiting for me the whole time.

My parents recently EXPRESSED a care package to me with Thanksgiving supplies. Though it was supposed to arrive in less than a week, I was not expecting to get it until much later.

While I was home today I got a phone call from a strange number and when I answered the guy was talking really fast and told me he was from the government or something. He definitely did not say he was from the post office. I asked what he needed with me and he said a package of mine had arrived in the post office. I told him I would come to get it. He asked me when. I said today. He spoke urgently. He asked me how long it would take me to get to the post office. I said in 30 minutes. He said no, this is urgent, let me and my coworker come deliver it. I was like, seriously, your not kidding? You are going to personally deliver my care package? He said yes, this is very important. He told me to meet him outside in ten minutes.

When I got off the phone I started to wonder if that really just happened because of all the troubles we have all had with the post office in the past. Then, I wondered if it was really all just for the care package from my parents. Maybe it was something extremely important from America? Maybe the President wants to reward me for doing such a great job in Peace Corps Mozambique? As soon as I stopped thinking ridiculously the guy called again and with the same urgency, asked where I was. I was walking towards him and he told me which car was his. I soon met him and he got out of the car and said, finally! This package arrived for you from Maputo today and I came to personally deliver it! Then he handed me the package and I immediately noticed my dad's handwriting. SWEET! It was my Thanksgiving care package! I asked the guy if we needed to go to customs and he said no because that would take very long, and that I just needed to sign something.

I will never forget this day and now I know what the post office in Xai Xai is capable of!

Yesterday I was sitting in my house with nothing to do so I called up one of my friends, his name is Nelly. He’s also a student of my neighbor and he’s a taxi driver so sometimes he’ll give me rides and we’ll go on car rides around the city. He’s a cool friend and a few times his family has invited me over for dinner. It had been a long time that I’d gone over there for dinner until yesterday. I don’t remember it being so awkward but this time I just felt so strange. So here’s this experience.

I called Nelly up yesterday to ask if he wanted to chill for a bit. He said yes so we decided to meet. I thought we were just gonna go on a walk but he showed up in his car. Then we headed to the city and drove around for awhile and I bought a few things and he was blaring that new Rihanna & Eminem song--btw,very catchy! Then we left the city and I asked him where we were going and he said his house just for a minute to get something. Awesome, this is going to take forever. There’s no such thing as going to someone’s house and only staying five minutes. And it was also the hour to eat dinner, so this was going to take awhile. Whatever, just roll with it. So we pulled up to his house and he asked if I was going to come inside to say hello to his family. At the moment I honestly just wanted to get home because I planned to hang out with one of my girl friends but I didn’t really have a choice so of course I had to go inside and say hello. Before we walked in I prepared myself for all the typical common Mozambican greetings like “you have disappeared where have you been” even if you may have seen this person yesterday, or “you are stronger now because you have gotten fatter” I’ve learned people say this depending on whether you look thinner or fatter in the outfit you happen to be wearing, and just other things.

So, I entered. For a moment I felt like how Beyonce must feel when she steps onto stage because as soon as I entered the front yard everyone got silent then was like oh, MALLORINA! Then Nelly’s sisters came up to me to give me beijinhos (kisses on the cheeks, casual greeting). I surveyed the scene. Not uncommon at all. They were all eating dinner- caccana and xima. Caccana is very very bitter green leafy vegetable used to make a traditional caril (sauce) to be topped over rice or xima. It’s definitely my least favorite Mozambican dish because it can be very bitter and sour depending on the person that makes it. The women and children were sitting on an esteira on the ground. An esteira is a straw mat and is the equivalent of a picnic blanket. The two men, Nelly’s father and brother, were sitting in chairs and a small table not far from the rest, also eating.

Nelly’s sister pulled up a chair for me to sit-not at the table but away from the table and next to those who were on the esteira. As soon as I sat down, Nelly disappeared. So I sit down and greeted his mom in Chengana, no one was expecting that so a few giggled- my local language ability has improved since the last time I’d came over to visit. Nelly’s mom doesn’t speak Portuguese, and people only choose to translate after I give them a baffled confused look which basically says I really have no idea what’s going on. Nelly’s mom told me her back was hurting and she needs to see a doctor. Many people here think that just because I’m a mulungu that works in a hospital means that I’m able to give medical counsel. So then I felt awkward because here I am able-bodied and sitting in a chair and she’s on the ground hunched over, and I felt awkward because all I could tell her was to go to the hospital the next day and to rest and drink lots of water.

Then Nelly’s sister asked me if I liked caccana. I said no. Completely ignoring what I just said she told me to go sit at the table with the men to go eat. She said I’d like her caccana. Fine, so I sat at the table with the men. I immediately felt awkward because once again, the rest of the women were on the ground and the men in chairs at a table. Nelly still had yet to reappear.

So there I was sitting at the table with his father and brother. His mom then looked up at me and asked in Chengana if I was cold. I didn’t understand so his sister translated after I gave her “the look”. Then I greeted the men and asked his dad how was South Africa and when did he return. Then his brother gave me the bowl to serve xima and then asked me if I wanted xima quente (hot). I said no. Then he was like xima QUENTE. As if I didn’t understand. I said NO, I can finish this xima right HERE. Can we please just get this over with, I thought. Then they handed me the caccana and I put just a little over my xima. Then nelly’s sister yelled from ten feet away, “Serve yourself more!” I’ll try this first, thank you. Then I started eating and felt especially strange because I was at the men’s table, Nelly was nowhere to be found, and then everyone was talking in Chengana. I don’t usually feel awkward when people are all speaking the local language around me, I did this time because I just wasn’t comfortable. I started eating and the caccana was really bitter, I could tell by looking at it before I ate it because it was dark green-maybe it hadn’t been boiled long enough and I don’t think she added coconut milk, which usually makes carils sweeter. I tried to finish it quickly and I finished it before I ran out of xima. Nelly’s sister yelled at one of the kids, “GIVE TIA MALLORINA more of the caril, right now!” That reaction was normal but I wouldn’t say that tone is always necessary for a simple request. Then I take the bowl of caccana from this shunned child who passed it to me. “Sorry, kid.” As I put just enough caril back on my plate to finish off the xima that I had I noticed that Nelly’s dad was drinking wine. He was the only one drinking wine. Without even asking, he just poured me a glass of wine and put it in front of me. Very nice of him, yes. I felt like it was a sign of respect to be offered the wine so I accepted it. Then I felt awkward because: Nelly still hadn’t returned, everyone else was sitting on the ground except for the men and I who were sitting in chairs at a table eating, I didn’t understand anything anybody was saying in Chengana, and though they were my friend’s family, it just still felt strange because they’re not people I see often. I accepted the glass of wine and then Nelly’s dad asked me how I’ve been and where have I been. I told him last week I had traveled to Namaacha. Then, still feeling awkward and ancy, I thought he asked me what I was doing there. I went on to tell him the new group of volunteers arrived for training and I went down there to help facilitate sessions. I guess you could say I was rambling. After I finished talking, Nelly’s brother said, “NO, he asked if it RAINED while you were there.” Really, I didn’t hear him say that. By this point Nelly finally came back from God knows where and then soon after returning he left again with one of the kids because he forgot something in the car. Ok, he won’t be gone long, I thought. He was gone for at least ten minutes- enough time to feel like an eternity while you’re really waiting on someone to return. Anyways, I answered his father and said no, it didn’t rain while I was in Namaacha. Easy answer…even though it rained at least 3 days while I was there. Should I say that? I thought…Negative. It’s time to go.

Nelly came back and sat in a chair but not at the table but over by the esteira. He finished eating and talking to everyone after about 20 minutes while I was sitting there with no food and nothing to do and just listening to them in Chengana. I didn’t even have my phone or my purse to distract me because someone took it inside for me. Nelly’s dad then asked to take my plate and I said sure and then I looked at my piece of gum I had put on the side of it-awkward, why did I do that? He looked at me then at the gum with this curious look as to what I was going do with it. I picked it up in my hand, unsure to throw it away or chew it. There’s no trash pile nearby, I don’t want to seem rude throwing gum in the yard, so I started to chew it again. After seeing that he handed the plate to someone to take inside. Then I gave Nelly “the look” and then told his family it was time for me to go and thank you very much for everything. After a few minutes of saying thank you and good bye, we left and so did all the awkward feelings.Whoo!

Wow! It's November! Sorry I haven't posted anything lately. I don't have any excuses. Ok SO, where to begin..It's the end of the year and the PCVs from Moz 13 (the group of ppl that arrived a year before me) are getting ready to leave and return to the States. This past weekend I went with a few other volunteers to Chimoio-in central Mozambique- for a conference. There's this group called Future Business Leaders of Mozambique provided thru Peace Corps. It's a good opportunity. PCVs along with local counterparts get a group of people or a whole class and offer business courses. At the end of the course, participants prepare a business plan and submit it to be judged to receive funds to start their business. FBL is funded by PEPFAR. So, I went this past weekend to the "handover" meeting, in which the former Moz 13 leaders of FBL "handed-over" the responsibilities of the group to us Moz14ers (there's 5 of us managing it now). Chimoio is about 12 hours from Xai Xai and we traveled by bus.

Before I begin the story, let me introduce you to a few people that I'll be mentioning.

Vic- Moz 13er, health volunteer, former national coordinator of FBL

Pete- Moz 13er, education volunteer, former regional coordinator of FBL, he also lives in Chicumbane, the same site as emily, about 10 minutes from xai xai.

Erica- Moz 14er, education volunteer, new national coordinator

Kendra- Moz 14er, education volunteer, other new national coordinator

Rebecca- Moz 14er, education volunteer, northern regional coordinator

Thursday morning Pete and I met in Xai Xai. Pete and I were supposed to meet at 7:20 am but of course I didn't leave my house until 7:30 because I was late due to writing a letter to my dear friend Brandy. So, at 7:30 I headed to the bus stop near my house. I hardly ever catch chapas that early in the morning. This chapa rolls up and it was FULL of people. I thought people were about to start getting out but no, the cobredor just opened the door. All I saw were butts of people sticking out the sliding door and he was like, go on, get in! At first I said ummm...I dont know, maybe I'll just wait for the next one, where am I going to fit?! Then he said, just get in! So, I got in. I had my over-the-shoulder purse and my back pack. I threw my purse in the lap of some kid sitting and told the cobredor to take my back pack. Then I was hovering over this kid, my chest and head above him as he was sitting down and I was also leaning to the side over this other kid and then the cobredor was directly behind me. Awkward, yes. So I'm standing there trying not to fall as we start moving, holding on to front seat passenger chair. It's a bumpy ride from my neighborhood to the paved road. There's hills and the road is uneven so it makes the car slant as your driving. Really not fun when your standing up/hovering/holding on. I will never complain about anything ever again in America. Not really sure what happened to my back pack, I couldn't see it during the ride. I was supposed to meet Pete at the market but I decided to get off a few blocks early because my legs and arms started to hurt from trying to hold on and corners of chairs poking me and I can only stand such small spaces surrounded by people for so long. So I got out and found my back pack in the lap of someone behind me..Hopefully all was still in it. If not, oh well..everything that mattered was in my purse. Exiting early worked out for the best because then Pete called and said he was close to where I was. So the chapa he was in pulled up next to me on the side of the road and then we headed off to Maxixe, Inhambane. The morning started out great. Pete had some bread and badgias, my fave. We picked up Erica outside of Xai Xai so we could all travel together.

Like every other chapa in the world, we stopped...alot. Every time we stopped people rushed up to the windows trying to sell bananas and oranges and what...shish-kabobs!!! Yeah, so this kid comes up to my window with meat on a stick. I asked him what it was, he said pork. I declined. The chapa went on and as I was jamming to my ipod I started thinking if I should try the stuff on a stick. I don't eat pork or red meat-long story- but during the chapa ride I decided that I'm going to ditch that decision and go ahead and allow myself to eat it next time I get the chance. It was a shish-kabob!

Eventually the chapa stops again. This other kid with meat on a stick just happens to be standing next to my window. It was meant to be and I could use some protein. I didn't ask him what kind of meat it was...I asked him how much. He said 10 MTS per shish-kabob. Pete wanted one, too. I asked him for two. During this transaction I was fumbling around for change- of course I couldn't find any when I needed it and I was expecting the driver to drive off mid-transaction. No worries, somebody shoved the change into my hand. Sweet, so I got 2 shish-kabobs. He had about 4, either light meat or dark meat. He tried to hand me 2 light meat shish-kabobs. I took one light meat and one with dark meat. I figured one was chicken the other was steak. Wishful thinking. I wanted the one I thought was steak, so I gave the light meat one to Pete. Once again, I didnt ask the kid what it was.

I bit into the meat on my stick and...well...I'm still not sure what it was. I hope it was pork. In my opinion, it was absolutely foul. I hated it. But, I ate it anyway because I wasted 10 MTS on it and I didn't have hardly any money left for anything until Inhambane. Pete said it may have been a different part of a cow that we're not used to eating. Whatever, it was gross. I pulled a chunk off the stick to get a better look. Then I thought it was an animal snout. Oh no, wait, that's just the hole from the stick. Whew. I don't know but I've heard about Mozambicans eating cats and rats (I've seen the rats...I'll have to have another post just about food...)It didn't help that the other day I had been talking to Emily and she was wondering if it was possible that she'd ever eaten dog and didn't know it-maybe it's been sold as street food? Anyway, Pete's shish-kabob was good. His "light meat" was basically animal fat filled with grease. It was good, at least it got the mystery meat taste out of my mouth. Note to self: no more meat from the street.

As I’ve previously said, I am assigned to an organization called ICAP. ICAP provides HIV treatment and psychosocial support. To implement these services, there’s a group of HIV+ women at the hospitals known as activistas, that make home visits to those on HIV treatment, and give educational lectures twice a morning about one of many health topics, and they also facilitate a support group once a month. There is a counselor at the hospital specifically there to counsel people before taking an HIV test and also to educate patients who are starting or are already on HIV treatment. The counselors are provided by ICAP, who works as a partner with the Ministry of Health in Mozambique. The counselor at my hospital is known as my “counterpart”, a term that Peace Corps uses to describe a local national that you work with everyday to train them to build sustainability, not dependency. My counterpart is a counselor at the hospital where I work and her name is Madina.

We provide two types of home visits to maintain healthy treatment adherence. The first is called visits of support, where activistas go to patient’s houses and counsel them about any troubles or concerns the patient may be facing. They reiterate the importance of taking treatment correctly and maintaining a healthy lifestyle- practicing safe sex, eating a balanced diet, abstaining from alcohol/smoking/drugs, and coming to the hospital when needed.

The other type of home visit is practically a search for patients who haven’t been showing up for appointments, mostly to pick up HIV treatment. It’s really serious because this usually means that the patient has not taken their meds in a certain period of time, which is bad because when that happens, the person will develop resistance to HIV treatment, which would ultimately lead to death.

2 pairs of 2 activistas go into the community everyday to make home visits. I go with them at least 3-4 days a week. ICAP supplies us with home visit cards which have a list of information about the patient and we are to fill out the card after the visit about how the patient was. The cards also describe if the visit is a visit of support or search for the patient. So, sounds good, right? You may be thinking that doesn’t sound all that hard and maybe you wouldn’t mind helping out with that for 2 years. Well, let me tell you about the iceburg of complications under our surface of seemingly wonderful home visits.

First of all, there are SO many patients. One in 4 people is infected with HIV. Hundreds of people receive treatment at our hospital. Keep in mind that our hospital is not the only hospital in Xai Xai that provides HIV treatment. In our hospital, all patient information and appointment summaries are recorded in paper files. We don’t have a computer. I think a computer may solve some of the issues we face but I also see that it may create new problems as well.

While I was in the States in my last semester of college I was a social work intern with an organization that provides services for people living with HIV/AIDS. I would make home visits for our clients. Ohhhh how I now see how good I had it! Each client had an organized file on a computerized database and on paper as well. To go on home visits, the organization had a company car with working air condition and specific directions to the client’s house. What a wonderful system we have back home, absolutely wonderful.

Back to reality. Ok so home visits here can be difficult because of the topography of our area. Sand and hills make up Xai Xai. Sand, hills, and heat are three of my absolute favorite things in life. Especially walking through all 3 of them for hours at the same time, now that’s what I call fun. We walk very far distances to make home visits, too. My point is to say that physically, it’s not easy. “Neighborhoods” here aren’t organized like they are in the States. There are no organized streets that have names nor are there maps or directions of any sort. Everyone’s just kind of scattered about. There are points of reference, however. So, the heat, terrain, and lack of specific addresses are the main sources of our difficulties.

When we go on visits in search of patients, most of the time we don’t find the person we’re looking for. The most common reasons for not finding patients are mostly because: the patient has moved, the patient has traveled (many people migrate to find work or live with family members in times of need), the patient has died, or no one knows the patient because they gave the wrong address. Unfortunately, people often give us the wrong address, sometimes wrong name, when they open a file at the hospital. That alone is the cause of a few issues. People fear that confidentiality isn’t really legit and they think that people in the community will discover their status if people from the hospital keep coming to their house. Their fears of discrimination/stigma are pretty valid because confidentiality here isn’t like what it is to Americans. We’re working on improving that. My activistas used to go into the community and show the home visit cards (which have information that identifies the HIV+ patient) to people in the community to try to find who we’re looking for. They don’t do that anymore, thank goodness. Occasionally, we find patients that we’re looking for. Some reasons they give us for not coming to the hospital: they forgot the date, they are too sick to go, they don’t have transportation, they went to the hospital but the hospital didn’t attend them well, or they say they’re getting treatment from another hospital.

It's complicated but it's coming along.

The majority of people here use public transportation to get around. Everyone rides in chapas. A chapa is a van which is supposed to hold about 18 people but here they get stuffed with about 22-25 people. A Cobredor is a person that manages the chapa. He sits by the door of the van and hangs out the window and tells the driver to stop when people need to get on and off. Public transportation is not free. It’s 6.5 MTS from my house to the “city”, 10 MTS from the “city” of Xai Xai to Chicumbane (Emily’s site). 1 USD= 37 MTS. You can do the math and see how riding so many can easily add up. Each chapa ride is different and it is always an experience. So let me tell you about them.

First, you have to know where you’re going and you have to make sure you get on the right chapa that goes to your destination. There are several bus stops throughout the city. You stand waiting at one, and you may wait a long time. Chapas will pull up and cobredors are basically hanging out the window as they drive by and they hold up hand signs for different routes. For example, the hand signal to go to the beach is waving your right hand across your shoulders, as if you’re splashing yourself. If you just want to stay in town and need a ride from one side to the other, the signal is to point down to the ground. If you’re going out of town, the signal is to point up to the sky. When chapas approach the bus stop, they don’t actually come to a complete stop until they know someone at the bus stop is going to get on, which they know by hand signals or by calling out. If you don’t know the name of the bus stop you need to go to, you can just tell the cobredor when you get on and he’ll know when you need to get off. As soon as you enter the chapa, before you even sit down, the car takes off and you have to be careful to sit down. Even though time doesn’t really matter here, in the world of chapas, it does. The chapa world understands that time is money. They are always in a hurry and when you get on the chapa the cobredor usually says “chop, chop!”

In a chapa, there are 4 rows of seats that should each hold 4 people. Inside the chapa, the seats on the right hand side of the rows are connected. On the left hand side in each row, the seat folds up so that people can pass by and move in and out. People do not get up or move or exit the chapa to accommodate you when it is your turn to get out. You can carry almost anything in a chapa. Large sacks, babies tied to your back, and even chickens being held in plastic bags. I have figured out the best seats in a chapa. I’ve got it down to a science. I will explain my reasoning, too. Ok, here’s a visual layout of chapa seating:

Front Seat: __ - D 2 people can sit in front with the driver

Row 1/Door _ ___ row where people stand

Row 2/Door _ ___ close to door

Row 3 _ ___ close to door

Back row _____ no seats fold up in the back.

Each row has 4 seats, so from left to right, I number them 1-4.

__ Means seats are connected

_ means it’s a fold up seat

The cobredor generally sits in Row 1 on the left side.

The front seats are always the best but usually already occupied. I like sitting up front but don’t very often. Sometimes because that means I know I’m going to have to carry a conversation with the driver who tries to use the ride to just hit on me the whole time. Also, when sitting in the middle, the person to the left does not get out of the car to let you out for fear of losing their seat while the door’s open and people are getting on/off.

Row 1 is usually always full of cargo and is always the most crowded. People stand in this area (hunch over really, there’s not room to stand) or sit on top of others. It can be very painful leaning across others and having your legs digging into seats or boxes or whatever. It can also be awkward having to bend over and being so close to so many people. If you are on the right side of Row 1 you usually have to climb over a lot of stuff and people to get out. I avoid this as much as possible.

Row 2 Seat 3 is the best seat in my opinion. You don’t have to move to let other people out. In this seat, you only have to climb over one person who is in seat 2 in order to exit. The people in Row 1 who are standing or on the left side of the row have to move to let you out. So it’s a seat with a free move. Row 2 Seat 4 is also nice because it’s next to a window. But I only sit here if I know I’m getting off later and know that there will be less people by that destination, meaning I won’t have to climb over everyone to get off.

Row 3 is like row 2. Either seat 2 or 3 is best because in seat one you have to move and get up somehow to let people out and in seat 4 you have to climb over a pile of people to exit.

In the back row, seats 1 & 2 are best because all the people on the left side of the rows in front of you have to move or squish to the right side to let you out. In this row, I prefer seat 1 because it’s next to a window and it’s a straight way out, unlike seat 2 that still has to climb over seat 1. In this row, seats 3 & 4 are the absolute worst. Especially seat 4 because you have to climb over a whole row of people who don’t move to let you out and it’s the farthest distance from the door. This is a disadvantage especially if you have a lot of groceries and stuff to carry. I only sit in the back row on the right side if I know I’ll be on the chapa ‘til the last stop when everyone will be exiting anyway.

Once seated, you enjoy the ride until your stop. It’s usually pretty bumpy and most chapas drive in a hurry…so at least there’s lots of air circulation. The local language is mostly always spoken among the passengers during chapa rides. Unless you’re a mulungu like me or don’t speak that particular local language, then people will speak Portuguese to you. When chapas stop, it’s usually a halt. So hang on. When the chapa approaches where you need to get off, you say, “PARRAGEM!” If going to the market, you say, “Parragem mercado!” Parragem means bus stop. Then you hand the cobredor your money and go on your way.

Things to expect on a chapa: lack of personal space, which doesn’t exist here. When the chapa is stopped somewhere to load people up, people selling snacks outside will run up to the windows of the chapa holding up whatever they’re selling and saying how much it costs. If you want something, open the window, make eye contact, ask how much, give them the money and take the food. It’s a quick transaction, but be careful if you are doing this while the car is running and the driver’s in getting ready to leave. Because he will take off even if you didn’t pay the person for the food or if you paid but didn’t get the food. Breast feeding is also normal. You can expect to sit next to a woman with a baby tied around her in a kapulana while breast feeding. She will continue to breast feed while entering/exiting the chapa, or if she is one of the people in row 1 standing or leaning over someone. That is another reason I choose other rows instead of row 1. I would rather be sitting next to a breast feeding woman than have a breast feeding woman be leaning over me. It doesn’t bother me much anymore.

Chapas are by no means maintained by American standards. They are mostly pretty beat up and could use some tuning. A lot of them have problems with the door. Once, I was on a chapa and the cobredor opened the door and it fell off. It was being held onto the car by a small rope. Seriously! Sometimes the rows of seats are not secured onto the floor, which makes them rock back and forth during the ride. This is probably not considered safe but it is actually quite entertaining trying to hold on and all the bouncing and rocking never fails to make everyone say, “Watch out! Eeeehhh!! This road is BAD!”

Chapa routes generally have the same cobredors, including those to my neighborhood. They have also realized where I am usually going. When I’m waiting at the bus stop, without even asking some of the chapas to my neighborhood stop next to me, open the door and the cobredor hops out and says, “Come on, let’s go home!” Or when I’m at the bus stop at the market, it’s usually really crowded and the cobredors from my neighborhood will see me and approach me and tell me where the chapa to my house is.

And off we go!

In Mozambique, people walk around selling snacks in big buckets or in these woven baskets. When I say snacks, I mean like oranges, bread, peanuts, or cashews.

Peanuts are my new favorite snack. Ok so women walk around with these woven baskets full of peanuts. You can either buy an amount of peanuts worth 2, 5, or 10 Meticais. The 2 MT amount is a bottle cap. Just a few peanuts. The 5 MT amount is a really small cup and the 10 MT amount is about a handful. Emily and I have been buying peanuts by the 50's. Yes, we spend 50 MTS each time we buy peanuts. Every time we buy peanuts and say we want 50 MTS worth, the woman whose selling 'em gets really excited and looks at us like, really?! WOW! We say yeah, we're Americans and we like to buy things in bulk.

Apparently the word has gotten around Xai Xai that the 2 female mulungus REALLY like peanuts and buy a LOT when they do. I have realized this because people keep coming up to us and say, "you really like peanuts a lot, huh?" Why yesss I do I tell them. People who sell peanuts will now run up to me and Em when they see us and say, "It's here! Peanuts! I have peanuts here!" and we say oh sorry, we already bought some today. "OHHHHHH!! AMIGA, why?! I have peanuts why did you not buy from me?!" they say. We tell them "sorry, maybe next time.."

As I'm writing this blog entry I'm in an internet cafe with Em and I look up to the front desk and there's this lady with a basket full of peanuts. She didn't look like she was here to use the internet. She was selling those bad boys and when she saw me glance over she rushed over and she said, "Here it is, I have peanuts for you." We said "ohhh sorry we already bought it this morning." Then she told us we could try some of her peanuts, we declined. She asked us why did we not buy her peanuts? We said we already bought some this morning when we were hungry. "OHHHh", she said.

After that lady left the internet cafe I told Em maybe we should chill out with buying and eating so many peanuts. It's getting expensive and they're really filling. A few Mozambicans have recently been telling me that I've been gaining weight. I thank them (being far is a compliment) and tell them it's probably because I've been eating so many peanuts. They say, "Yes, it's those peanuts that are keeping you fat. You look good like this. Stay this way." I appreciate their compliments and brutal honesty, which tells me maybe I should move on to something like...apples.

I recently got a care package from two of my wonderful girl friends, Sara & Samantha. It was full of goodies including some delicious gum. I haven't had gum in a really long time. They sent me this gum called "5", the "React" flavor. It's in this fancy black package with a pretty purplish-yellow design on the package. Even the gum sticks are wrapped in little black wrappers. It really is fancy.

My American gum has gotten a few reactions from Mozambicans. When I opened my care packages, one of my friends was with me. I made sure to not show any of the goodies because I was being greedy and didn't want to share any of those. But I did lend a stick of gum to my friend. He was taken back by how fancy it looked. He picked up the stick of gum and sized it up with his eyes. Pulled back a little bit of the wrapper and sniffed it. He did all of this with caution, as if he was waiting for the gum to come to life or something. I told him if he was going to treat my gum like that and not eat it, then to give it back to me so I could put it to use. So then he tore off a piece of the stick of gum and slowly raised it to his mouth, then looked at it again, then finally put it to its destination once I told him it was ok, it was just gum from America. Once at ease, he thought the gum was delicious. He then folded the wrapper shut and secured the gum then placed it in his pocket for later.

I was in line at the bank with Emily today. We were waiting and I reached into my bag for something and saw the pack of gum. I pulled it out and showed it to her. She said whoaaa where did you get that?! I said well, it's Stateside...I got in in a care package. Fancy, eh? She declined my offer but what I thought was humorous was the look on the young mozambican girl's face as she saw me whip out the pack of gum. She was looking at my pack of gum with great wonder and she was practically silently screaming for a stick of it. So I handed it to her and said, Here, do you want some gum from America? Her face lit up and she looked at me with the look like those women get on Oprah's show when she gives a bunch of stuff away. Yeah, this girl was really excited. She started laughing and smiling and turned to her friend in front of her and said "I have gum from AMERICA!!!" Em told her that she should share the gum with her friend. She just looked at us and kept smiling then looking at the gum cradled in her hands like it was fragile. Gum from AMERICA!!! She kept saying. She just kept laughing and laughing and we asked her what was so funny. Gum from AMERICA!!! I told her the gum was delicious and that she would like it. Instead of immediately indulging she carefully placed the stick of American gum into a pocket.

I'd like to send out a BIG thank you to Sara and Samantha for the care package! I miss you girls!

In Africa, everyone takes bucket baths (unless you’re in the city and have running water). I’m used to it by now and it’s not that bad. The only bad thing is when it’s cold outside. So, I and the majority of everyone, have an outside area to bathe. It’s an enclosed area, like a little hut.

First, make sure you have water. Houses here do not have the luxury of running water. We have large containers where we store water. I’m lucky enough to have a water tap in my yard that I share with my host family here. This morning, I didn’t have enough water in my water container to bathe because I used the rest to wash dishes. I went to the tap with the bucket to carry more water to fill up the container to find out that the water wasn’t running at the time. An hour later, it was so I carried two buckets. So, always make sure you have enough water in storage for your daily chores. Take advantage of when water’s running in the tap (it usually is), it runs more than it’s turned off.

So, once you have water, fill up a bucket. If it’s cold outside, you have to heat up water and then mix it with cold water so as not to burn yourself. You get your bucket of water and take your shower supplies, which are stored in a small basket, along with a cup, your undies, and take ‘em to the casa de banho (bath room).

My basket of shower supplies consists of: body soap, soap to clean undies, razor, shampoo, conditioner, washcloth.

You go to the bath room wrapped in a kapulana cloth. Everybody does that. It’s much easier since you already have a bunch of stuff to carry and there’s not a lot of space to set stuff down in the bath room. So, to bathe you use the cup to scoop water from the bucket and pour over your body. Because you can only use a limited supply of water, I have to schedule when I’m going to shave and when I’m going to wash my hair. I can’t do both at the same time because each takes about half a bucket of water.

Use the body soap to wash your body and rinse with cup and water. Once clean, you have to clean your undies with the bar of soap for that so you put water and soap on them and then you have to scrub them by rubbing the sides together between your hands. You must do this EVERY time you bathe in order to wear clean underwear. Also, every time you bathe, you MUST wash your feet and sandals. (Oh yeah, you bathe in sandals, never walk outside bare foot here). When you wash your feet, you must scrub them by rubbing them against the stone ground and you should wash your toes and toe nails because they get really dirty and I’ve heard of bugs that will get in there and lay eggs in your feet and it’s really painful. And that’s how to bathe here.

June-August is winter season here because Mozambique is in the southern hemisphere so the seasons are switched. It gets pretty cold here. And in the summer, it gets bloody hot. I think the cold weather is worse here because there are no heaters and when I wake up in the mornings when it’s cold its sooo hard to get out of bed. I also think that the tin roof magnifies any temperature. When it got really cold, I had to sleep in two pairs of pants, long sleeve shirt with a sweater, and two heavy blankets and I was still freezing. Oh, and what’s also a pain is having to bathe during winter because I have to bathe outside, and even if I use hot water, there’s no avoiding the cold because of the wind. It doesn’t get as cold here as it does where I’m from in Texas, but I still think it’s worse here. Mozambican winter is a small suffering. I shouldn’t complain, because my house is well built compared to other people’s houses. Some people’s walls have holes to the outside and some houses are only made of reeds. Mine’s made of reeds and cement. So I can only imagine how cold they may get during Mozambican winters.

Thankfully it’s already September and it’s starting to heat up around here. The mango trees have already started to bloom!

It’s an absolutely indescribable feeling to express how it feels missing the people that I love. I try not to think about how much I miss people back home. Instead, I tell myself that I’ll see them soon and I don’t think about how much time has passed. But, someone asked me to write about what is it like to miss your parents, so I’ll try to explain best I can and I’ll try to stay positive as I write this.

First, let me say that I am very fortunate because my dad had a chance to come visit me in April for ten days, and I will be going home in December to visit. This is going to be a lot harder to write about than I thought it was going to be.

I haven’t seen my mom in almost a year. My mom’s a wonderful piano player and singer and teaches personal lessons at home all my life. I hate to admit this, but at times I used to get annoyed waking up to my mom teaching or to her playing the piano because at the time I’d rather sleep in later. I’m embarrassed to admit that because now I realize how lucky I was to have woken up to the sound of my mom’s voice or to the sound of her wonderful talent of playing the piano or teaching someone else. How selfish of me. You know how when you haven’t seen someone in a long time and it’s kind of hard to remember them well? Like it’s hard to remember the sound of their voice and exactly what they look like? Well, I vividly remember my parents and things we used to do together. You may be thinking, “Of course you do Mal, they’re your parents!” When I think about my parents, it’s like they’re right here, as if they’re close.

Have you ever had the kind of dream where it seems so real you wake up and wonder if it really happened or not, then realize it was just a dream? It’s kind of like that when I think of people back home. If I allow myself, I can vividly remember people that I miss and moments that we shared. Even though I’m already awake, it’s like I’m in this trance thinking about certain moments and I have to kind of snap myself back to reality. I then recognize who and what it was I was thinking about and how I felt thinking about that and then I deal with it.

For example, my parents and I used to walk our dog, Kacy together. One night during my last month spent in the States my mom had to teach a little late so my Dad and I walked Kacy by ourselves. I remember that night perfectly. I remember how the heat and humidity felt and the look of the clear night sky and being able to see the stars. I remember exactly where we walked to around our neighborhood. I remember several small details like when Kacy laid down in the middle of our walk because she was hot and tired and I tried to pull her up but my dad let her rest a minute before telling her to get up. I remember everything my dad and I talked about during that walk. We were reflecting on everything up until that point. Growing up, my time during college, and why I decided to join Peace Corps. I remember how I felt hearing my dad be proud of me and worried for me at the same time. I promised him I would do everything to keep myself safe. I remember when we got home and my mom was talking to her student and they were waiting by the door for their parent to come pick them up. (I don’t remember which student it was…sorry). When my mom heard us come in she said, “Y’all back?” I kicked off my shoes then walked to the sink to wash my hands and my mom came in through the dining room and walked up and patted me on the back. “How was the WALK?! Did Kacy make it?!” She was so happy. My mom’s always so happy and her voice is always filled with joy. Then she walked to the back door to look at Kacy exhausted laying on the tile floor. I remember how glad I was to see her. Her voice and the air conditioning was a breath of fresh air after working up a sweat.

After that walk with my dad and coming home to my mom, in that moment I knew that I was going to one day miss that moment. In that moment I already missed that moment because I knew that I wouldn’t have many more of those moments for the next 27 months.

That’s what it’s like missing my parents and people that I love and care about- re-living moments and then becoming overcome with this deep longing, an aching yearning to be with or at least talk to that person. I got a bit emotional while thinking about that moment with my parents and trying to put it into words. It’s a potentially dangerous process, allowing one to re-live moments like that. Because you realize that everyone and everything you want in that moment you were thinking about- you can’t have in your reality. Then you start negatively viewing your reality. Like right now, if I allowed myself, I could negatively think about how I just went to use the latrine and how I miss closed indoor bathrooms and toilets and running water and sinks. I could negatively think about the fact that right now my torso is covered with itchy bug bites.

Thinking about people and home like that is dangerous. It’s ok to let yourself feel sad and feel the feeling of missing someone. What’s dangerous is dwelling on those feelings and becoming pessimistic about what’s actually around you because I think it can lead to depression. My first few months at site, I had a really hard time and it was difficult controlling thoughts and feelings of missing home.

So, how do I deal with it here? I have learned to cope and I have learned to change my way of thinking. I am very aware of my thoughts and feelings and when I notice that I am thinking or feeling something negative and unproductive, I squash it right then and there and re-direct myself.

I have two choices right now: I can continue to cry about how much I miss my mom and my dad and kick myself for ever having taken for granted simple moments we’ve had together. My other choice is to recognize that I have a new found appreciation for not just my parents but everyone in my life.

I cope here by engaging in self-talk, keeping a journal, talking to my close friends here Emily and Amanda, and listening to music. But, let me also say that I have decided my life will not be one long longing. Before I left the States, I was longing to join Peace Corps and thought about it a lot. In the beginning of my service here, I was longing to be back home. I can picture that when I go back home, I’ll be longing to be back here or be longing for the next step in my life. Not any more. I now strive to always appreciate the people that are currently around me and where. At each point in my life, I may miss someone, someplace, or some time. I believe it’s important to recognize that and set aside time to just feel those feelings and process why you feel that way and what it is you miss about that person or place or time and most importantly, realize why.

Point of the story: I miss you, mom & dad.

I wasn’t sure if I should share this but I’m just going to go ahead and share this because…I think about it every day and it’s important and it shows how much my Peace Corps service is affecting me.

I’m a woman with a plan. I’ve been thinking what I may want to do after Peace Corps: go straight back to school, get a job and then go back to school, or…extend my time of Peace Corps service. I am set to leave Mozambique in December 2011. I will only be 23. My only obligation is that I must go back to grad school by 2014 in order to still be eligible to receive my MSW degree in one year. You are probably thinking why in the world would I want to extend my service? I believe in the work I am doing. I love Africa. I love the experience I’m gaining. I may have the option to extend my service in another country. I could go somewhere that speaks another language…I could learn French! I’m sorry if this is a shocking disappointment to some people. You’re probably thinking how could I want to do that and be away from home for even longer? It would be the same if I were in the States. People get older, grow up, and see each other less. But distance somehow brings everyone closer together. Someone told me that I should come straight home after Peace Corps and “make a life for myself.” Maybe that person meant it’ll be time for me to go back home, get my masters, get a job, find someone to get married to. I feel pressured to go straight back to knock out all of those things. But is that really what I’m supposed to do? I’ve decided that I’m in no rush for any of those things. Of course this is all talk right now. I’m going to leave my options open, see what doors of opportunity arise, and see where the wind blows me. Right now it’s blowing me to go eat lunch with Emily…Have a nice day!

I have been confided in by a few of my Mozambican women friends. They shared with me their stories and feelings in confidence, so their names have been changed. Before reading this blog entry, I ask you to please read with an open mind. Be sensitive to the following, keeping in mind that nothing is really what it seems. I can imagine that after reading the following situation some may pass judgment on what they think may be an easy situation to solve. I’ll try my best to maintain neutrality in narrating these experiences.

I have a dear friend who I will call Isabel. She is like a Mozambican mother to me. She’s had Emily and me over for dinner with her and her family. She’s a bit older, in her late forties and her husband is almost fifty as well. (I understand late 40’s isn’t old, but for Mozambicans, it is, considering life expectancy here.) Anyway, she had moved away for a few months teaching in another district. I wasn’t sure she was coming back until she called me out of the blue one day. She sounded awful. She just said that she was back and that she was not doing well. She asked me to come over. Of course I agreed I was afraid she was really sick. So we scheduled for me to come the next day because it was late when we talked. I was on my way when she sent another text message that said “My dear daughter, I am not well. I am sick with sadness and a broken heart.” I responded and told her that I am with her, and that if she wanted me to I would come right that minute to be with her. Then she responded with the truth and said, “My husband got a 13-year-old girl pregnant. She had the baby and now they are living in my house.” I initially felt hurt, disgusted, angry, and sad for my friend’s situation. I told her if she needed to she could stay with me, that I would go and get her immediately if she needed to. She declined, said we’d see each other tomorrow.

The next day I went to her house. That was hard, especially because her husband was there watching TV when I arrived. It was hard being nice to him, treating him with respect, acting like I didn’t know he violated a child and at the same time sickened at the thought that he’s a school teacher. But I did and after a few minutes of awkward tension of being in the same room, Isabel took me outside, saying that I wanted to be in the sun and that I love being outdoors. That wasn’t a complete lie. We sat down and she began to tell me that the girl who he got pregnant was back in her grandparents’ house which was close by. Isabel said her brother-in-law, who lives with her and her husband, wouldn’t allow that girl to be in their house anymore. Supposedly he said that it was wrong for her to be in the house if she’s not his wife. She then told me the story of how this all began between her husband and the girl.

Isabel’s unable to have children. About ten years ago Isabel’s husband got very sick. He had some kind of blisters in his mouth, and a fever, and swollen lymph nodes. They thought he had HIV. So he took an HIV test. While awaiting the results, Isabel told her husband that if he in fact does not have HIV, then they owe a merciful life to God. They promised that if he in fact was not HIV+, they would be parent like figures to a child that needs parents. His test results came back negative, and he got better. One day he was in their yard and a young boy walked across the field in front of their house. At the time, their area was very rural. He called the boy over and asked where he lived. The boy said he lived not too far. He asked the boy who he lived with. “My grandma and siblings.” He asked where his parents were. “They both died.” Isabel’s husband informed her of the boy and that he doesn’t have parents. They then went to tell the boy that they are looking to care for children in need of a family in their community. They told him that he and his siblings are always welcome in their home. Anything they needed, they could have. Just ask. They met his other siblings. One was another young boy and a 4 year old girl. If only Isabel had known that in less than ten years from then, her husband would be fathering that 4-year old girl’s baby.

After that, Isabel took me to see the girl and the baby. The girl was tiny; she looked like a ten year old. Her baby was also tiny, premature. This girl had to drop out of school to care for this child. I then started talking to her about the importance of using a mosquito net, regularly getting tested for HIV, and that she must only exclusively breast feed her baby for the first six months. No water, no juice, no sodas, the baby only needs breast milk. The room we were sitting in was small, with a straw mat. I asked her where they all slept. She said right here in this room on this mat with this one mosquito net. I asked her if I could bring her another mosquito net because I have extras. I told her that it’s really important because I work in a hospital and people tell me about their babies dying because of malaria. She said yes, I could bring her a net. I then had her write down my number and told her if she ever needed anything, just call.

When we got back to Isabel’s house she told me other parts of this story. As we were talking her husband would periodically come outside to check on us because he was suspicious and guilty. Awkward! Anyway, she went on to tell me that about two years ago Isabel’s suspicions grew about her husband. She noticed that when she wasn’t home, the young girl would be leaving her house with things-gifts...and that before that her neighbors had told her that they had heard painful screams from inside her house where the young girl was. After her suspicions were somewhat credible, Isabel approached the young girl and told her straight up, “you cannot have this kind of relationship with my husband. If you are having sex with him in order for you to get things, that is not necessary. If you need anything, ask me and I will buy it for you.” Isabel felt like the sad conclusion to this story was the girl’s fault because she had previously told her this, and the girl continued to sleep with her husband. I tried to explain to Isabel that it wasn’t the girls fault, because she was a child and being taken advantage of. I told her that children learn what adults teach them. Her husband was a respected, father figure to that young girl, and he taught her that it’s ok to have sex with an adult in order to earn things in return. If you think about it, the whole thing is really complex and complicated.

I offered my home to Isabel and said she could come live with me. Of course, she declined. I asked her what she was going to do about her situation. She said she would like to go to the police and report her husband, but that she won’t because a woman should never betray her husband and that he won’t be punished in this life but God will punish him in the next. I told her that her husband betrayed her and a child that he promised to initially care for. She just said that she couldn’t report him because she feels that women here are not free. I told her that’s not true and that any individual is free and not bound by any society’s laws. We make our own destiny, I told her.

After much encouragement and support from Emily, I, and Isabel’s family, she broke free from the situation. Now she’s living in another city where she found a new job. Isabel’s cousin’s husband reported her husband to the police. We’re still waiting to see what happens with that. He’s still teaching in the secondary school.

One day I was with one of my girl friends. She told me she had a secret to tell me but that I had to promise I wouldn’t tell anyone. Sure, as long as you didn’t commit a serious crime, I told her. She asked me what I think about love. I told her that I believe love is something special between two people that are really hard to describe, especially in a second language, but that love is something shared. She asked me if I’ve ever been in love. I said yes. She asked me if I am currently in a relationship. No, I told her. She asked me if I was still in love with whoever I was in love with. I said no. She asked me why. I explained to her that people freely enter romantic relationships by choice, because of how they feel about each other. They leave relationships the same way-by feelings changing and leaving if they want to. Just. Like. That.

She then went on to tell me that she has been married to her husband for about ten years and they have three young children together. She said she appreciates her husband because he’s the father of her children, the provider of their family. But, she said, she just can’t make herself love him. She went on to say that she had a boyfriend ten years ago before she met her husband, and she was passionately in love with him…and still is. She said they were dating but then one day they got in an argument and he moved to South Africa for a temporary job. She didn’t know the job was temporary. She thought she’d lost him forever. While he was gone, she felt pressure from her family to get married and her husband had approached her family saying he wanted to marry her. So, they got married because she was of age and following social/cultural norms.

Her boyfriend came back after she was married. He was hurt and so was she. She said they still talk and when they talk and see each other her mind goes crazy and she thinks about leaving her husband and children to be with him because he’s the love of her life. However, she said if she left her husband her children would stay in his house because she would be the one leaving…also that she’d be looked down upon by the rest of her community. Forever shunned. She asked me what an American would do in this situation. I told her that it would be different for each person; but that Americans have the right to divorce their spouse and they would not be frowned upon by society. She asked me what I thought she should do. I told her that she should think of her children first, put their needs before hers and that fidelity is very important, she should remain faithful to her husband. But I told her that whatever she chose to do, she should continue to be safe in all of her interactions.

One of my coworkers who’s also my friend, Hortencia, struck up a convo with me one day while we were in the community making home visits. She asked me if an HIV+ woman had a baby, does that mean her baby will be HIV+ also? I told her it’s risky and definitely possible through the exchange of fluids inside the mom’s tummy and during child birth, but I told her it’s possible for an HIV+ woman to have an HIV- baby. I talked to her about being on treatment and monitoring one’s CD4 count and viral load…I told her if she had any more questions she should really ask a nurse and not to be shy to do so. And so my suspicions began that Hortencia may be pregnant.

On a different day…Hortencia told me that she has a boyfriend. He’s married and lives somewhere else but sometimes comes to Xai Xai…

Some days later…”Mallorina… I need your opinion about something.” I told her to continue. She continued to say that she doesn’t know if she should have a baby with her boyfriend. I said no. You already have four children and you are supporting them alone. Can you really feed one more mouth? She said here’s the deal, my boyfriend’s wife is already too old to have any more children. He only has 2 children with her. He thinks he needs to live up to his dad, who had 29 children with 5 different women. Keeping my cool, I asked her why does she want to have a child with him? I said, do you want to have a baby with him because 1.) You want another baby, 2.) Because he thinks he needs more children, 3.) Because you want him to help you financially? She said she wants to have another baby because she wants to have a baby with him. I don’t think my question sunk in. We asked our fellow Mozambican woman friend what she thought. She said she thinks Hortencia should just have ONE baby with him. Just ONE, she said. She asked me for my opinion. I told her that I don’t think she should make any more babies, and I asked her why can’t she find a man that’s not already married? She laughed. She said, well because I like my boyfriend. I told her there are plenty of available men in Mozambique that would be willing to have her. I asked her who would take care of the baby, and where would they live. She said she would in her house. I said exactly. Do you see that if you have a baby with this man, your life will become that much more difficult? I asked her how she would feel if she was married and her husband got another woman pregnant because she was already “too old”. She didn’t respond.

This conversation isn’t over with Hortencia. I will talk to her more about it again to try to challenge her thinking about the situation.

Last month we had to go to Maxixe in Inhambane province for a project design and management workshop. We took counterparts, it’s basically to teach how to manage funds and start a business/project from the ground-up. I took one of my activistas because they want to start an income-generating project selling coal and firewood.

The trip was fun…especially on the way back. Emily and I got a boleia. Boleia is a ride. We decided to save money by paying for a chapa and instead try to get a ride. Eventually some south Africans came along with a huge truck and a huge boat on the back of it. They agreed to take us back to Xai Xai after they fixed a flat tire. There were some local kids waiting with us. One of them wasn’t being very nice to some of the children so em and I tried to tell him that that behavior is really rude and that it’s good to treat others with respect if you want to be respected. He had been yelling and hitting this little boy with no shoes and a jacket with holes in it. So we bought him an apple and he cheered up a little bit.

They finally fixed the tire and it was time to go and they asked us where we’d like to ride. Emily asked if we could hang out on the boat but they said no. So we got in the back of the truck. The ride back was fun. It was such a beautiful day. Emily and I were sitting back there with the sun shining, the wind blowing, people constantly waving at us, and we were listening to music on our ipods and eating a chocolate bar. That was a great day!

I came home from the end of a weekend once to find that the inside of my house was absolutely infested with ants. They were grouped together stuck on the walls. It looked like they were making eggs. Not in my house! I’ve never used that much raid in one day. I’ve never seen so many dead ants in piles on the floor like that either. It was pretty gross. Then that happened again a few months later. I shouldn’t complain. They could have been cockroaches or rats.

The other day I made a sandwich. I was about to take a bite and noticed a small beetle was crawling out of my bread. I just picked it out and threw it on the floor and didn’t let that stop me.

One day my empregada made me feijoada-which is basically bean soup. It had been sitting on the stove for a few hours by the time I heated it up. After I heated it up I saw these black specks on the surface. At first I thought oh cool my empregada is finally learning to use my spices. Until I picked one up and saw that they were one of those annoying little flies that hang out in my kitchen. At least they were boiled.

One Monday morning. Emily was soon leaving for world cup so I was trying to spend as much time with her as possible before she left. She’d been waiting a pretty long time for a care package and she wanted to get her package before she left moz. So, I decided to accompany her.

We got to the post office around 7:30 a.m. The box arrived. But we had to wait for some guys from customs to come to open the box and make sure there’s not anything like cocaine inside. As soon as we got there the post office ladies called them and they said they would be there “soon.”

So, Em and I sat our happy, patient selves in the park next to the post office. We were pretty hungry. One of the great things about Mozambique/Africa is that there’s no fast food restaurants like in the states but fast food comes directly to you. We were chillin on a bench and saw this kid from across the street that had a bucket that looked full of bread and bujias. Bujias are fried bean patties and they are delicious. So we whistled at the kid and he looked around like whose calling me? We whistled again and he looked at us like “what, these 2 mulungus want my street food?” heck yes we do. So he ran over and we got some of that. Ten minutes later this girl came up to us selling samussas. Samussas are like empanadas which are like fried triangles filled with meat or veggies. Her samussas were special because they were filled with fish. So we got some of those too. Some time later this lady came by with a bucket full of oranges that she was selling. Got some of those. By this time it’s about 11. Still no customs guys. Some kids later walked by with cookies. Yup, got some of those too. We then went out for lunch after asking the post office ladies to call the customs guys to come.

Mozambique has a mobile market. It’s just a matter of time before what you need/want walks past you. And time doesn’t really matter here so why not just wait for it, like waiting for the customs people to show up. We saw people selling all sorts of stuff walk by. Selling stuff like: pillows, jewelry, cell phone chargers, cell phones, plastic bags, kapulanas, dvds, music…you name it it probably came by. Even 2 other pcvs from a different district walked by!

Emily eventually got her box. After 8 hours of waiting. Patience is a virtue!

Last week pcv Jenna came into town because we had a meeting with ICAP. Our supervisor’s brazilian and I actually understood about 75% of what she was saying, as opposed to when I arrived and I really didn’t understand her at all. She’s really sweet, I wish I could understand her completely! Small accomplishments…my favorite thing about ICAP meetings is they always give us free notebooks. Free stuff is great! Never again will I walk around somewhere in the states and pass up anything that’s free. Thank you very much.

Later that evening Jenna, Emily, and I went to restaurante Limpopo for some pretty awesome Indian food. I’ve been there a few times and it seems every time I go there I’m always with different people. Anyway there's this older Indian guy that works there. He’s kind and speaks decent English and he’s always helpful in making suggestions on what to order. He asked Em what she likes. She said something I don’t remember. What’s memorable is what he said next. He asked me what kind of food I like. I said well, I really like spicy food. Like really really spicy. And then he casually said, “I am spicy.” OMG the 3 of us burst out laughing and Emily absolutely lost it and buried her head into her jacket she was laughing so hard. Then he started laughing. So we were all laughing. Whatever so we all finally ordered food then later when we were eating he randomly came up to us, grabbed Jenna’s hand and kneeled down. She was in mid-chew when this happened. And we just looked at him, waiting…Emily already started cracking up again. But I wish I’d taken a picture of jenna’s face when this happened. As she's eating and saying “what are you doing? WHAT are you doing?!” So he kneels down, takes jenna’s hand, and pauses. Then he asks smoothly, “can I get you another drink, my dear?” Jenna: “no. please just let me finish my food!” then he goes away. Then comes back and leans in close to me and says “I need to talk to you.” I said, “about what?” “well, in private” Sorry buddy, I don’t have private conversations with strangers. What’s up and by the way can we please get the check? Then he asked me for my number. Emily starts laughing again and says (out loud) "Mal, I’m sooo glad I don’t have this problem that you have!” I respectfully declined, saying that no sir, we can talk here whenever I may come, but everyone asks for my number and I can’t give my number to everyone…How about that check, PLEASE?!

Several people have asked me through my parents why I haven't updated my blog. To tell the truth, I don't have an excuse. But, luckily for my deprived followers, I'm about to post a few. Do y'all really find this stuff interesting? That's one reason I don't post much anymore. Stuff is starting to seem normal and I don't think people back home will find it amusing or interesting.

So go grab a cold Dr. Pepper and some salty potato chips for your next fix of my blog...

Nothing sold outside of stores on the streets in Mozambique has a fixed price. Everything is negotiable, and being able to bargain with the vendor is a skill, one that Emily has taught me. Here's how I used to negotiate...

In Maputo one weekend, I come across a man whose selling purses made out of capulanas. I see one that I like and he jumps all over my interest and tells me the purse is 250 MTS. I tell him that's expensive and I want a discount. He then explains to me that no, actually, that's not expensive, then goes on to show me that there's layers of cloth which make the purse more durable, which will be good for me because I have alot of stuff, and says that he made it himself, and that it's beautiful, and mentions again that it's durable. After that little speech I almost felt bad for asking for a discount because wow, this guy had just convinced me that this purse is of great quality and why should I try to jip him of his talent and hard work? My response to him was pretty vague and he saw that I was giving in. Then Em swooped in and told me to think about it and we told him we'd be back if I decided to buy the purse.

Em: Mal, you really suck at negotiating prices.

Me: I know but 250 is still cheap and the purse was so nice and pretty and durable!

Em: No! You have to get the cheapest price! We're not tourists! Let me teach you how to negotiate. When you find something you like, don't show that you absolutely love it. They first give you a high price then you have to give them a super low price. Something ridiculously low. Like for that purse, you should have said you'd buy it for 100.

Me: 100 MTS for that purse! 1. there's no way he'd give into THAT price, and 2. I know it's worth more than that.

Em: That's the point. They tell you something high, then you tell him something ridiculously low, then you meet in the middle. Then if the price is still high, you just walk away and tell them that there's no way you'd pay that and that you don't really need it anyway. But, just be aware that they love to make you feel bad. Whenever you give them the first super low price that you want to pay, they're going to tell you that that's such an ugly price and that it's worth so much more, blah blah blah. Don't let them suck you in. When you finally get a low price that you'll agree to pay, then they really try to slap on the guilt trip to try to guilt you into paying more. They'll look like they're about to cry and look really upset about settling for such a price. But don't let that stop you from a deal, because we know that if they aren't still making a profit off of it, then they wouldn't sell it to you. Also, whenever you decide to hold the product just be aware that they won't take it back, trying to make you buy it. Just be prepared to set it on the ground or something. You can do it, Mal.

Ok so let's recap: 1.) Say a really low price after the first price. 2.) Don't show weakness for their story of why it's worth so much or show that you really want it. 3.) Start to walk away and tell them that you don't need it and you won't pay that high price. I got this.

After this little lesson of negotiating we headed to the wood market in Maputo which is open only on Saturdays. It's basically an area where a bunch of artists get all their art and figures and jewelry-souvenirs, really. The first thing I spotted was a bracelet made of sea shells that were painted different colors..super trendy, had to have it. Here's how that went...

I stayed neutral. The person selling it was a teenage boy. I asked him how much he told me 250. 250?! No way, kid. I walked away. He came after me with the bracelet as I was looking at more art and stuff. At first I ignored him and told him I didn't want it. Then he said 225. Then I looked at him and said I wouldn't pay that. He asked me how much I wanted to pay for it. 75 MTS, I said. He laughed and said that wasn't possible. Then he came down to 200. Then I told him 100. Then he said no he couldn't do that and that this bracelet was worth so much more because he made it himself and painted it and it's well made and beautiful. I then told him that I didn't have to have it, I'm not a tourist and that I live here and I could eventually find the same thing for cheaper. Then he put it in my hand and let me try it on. I took it off and tried to give it back and he wouldn't take it! I continued to tell him 100 MTS. He kept saying ohh sister that's such an ugly price. After a few minutes he told me he'd sell it to me for 150. I told him 100. Then he told me the lowest he could sell for it was 120. I then told him the most I'd pay for it was 110. He agreed. So I reached into my wallet to pay to see that I only had a 100 and a 20. I handed it to him and told him I needed change of 10 MTS. The look on his face was absolutely depressing because he knew I had what he was asking for. A few minutes later he brought me the change and the look on his face as he gave me the 10 MTS automatically made me feel horrible and I almost told him to just keep it until I heard Emily tell me to not give in, that 110 for the bracelet was reasonable. I went back for the purse a few days later and bought it for 180 MTS.

Negotiating's pretty fun!

A few weeks ago I finally was able to pick up my next piece of furniture from my carpenter: my kitchen counter. It's absolutely perfect and I love it! It's about six feet long and about a foot and a half wide. It's great because I had him build an extra counter/shelf underneath the top and the floor. Extra storage, always thinkin bout that! So, getting the counter to my house, or getting any furniture from my carpenter's house to my house, is always interesting, I've noticed. Since there's no home delivery, the thing to do to get the furniture to my house is to find someone outside of Limpopo market in Xai Xai and pay them 200 MTS to transport it for me. BUT, this time one of my friends who has a truck helped me out for free.

Roads. It's all sand and hills. Sandy hills. It can be difficult to drive in if the sand is loose and not packed- if you're not careful you could lose control...kind of like hydroplaning..but that's for water, is there a word for that for sand? Anyway, most of the roads have packed sand. So we finally get to the carpenter's house, get the counter loaded up and unfortunately my friend didn't have extra rope to fasten the counter to the bed of the truck. No worries, my friend had picked up two of his friends and so they and the carpenter hop into the bed of the truck and were holding onto the counter with their hands and sitting on the side of the bed. The site of this definitely made me worry- either them or the counter is surely going to fly off. But my friend was driving slow, taking it easy. We were just cruuuuising along until we come across the final road that connects his neighborhood to mine. We get to the entrance of this road to find a car ahead that is stuck in sand. There was about a ten foot pool of loose sand about two feet deep. Kids and men were trying to dig the car out. I thought well, surely we're going to go back and find another way because we're going to get stuck too and then we'll be here for hours.

We didn't go back and find another way. We tried to go around the car into the grass but saw that the left side of the truck was in the sand and was getting stuck. So we backed up. Tried again. Failed. My friend and the other guys hop out of our truck and start trying to get the other car out of the sand. They finally dug it out and pushed it back. We attempted again but this time my friend decided to try to go through the sand where the other car had attempted. Of course that didn't work and we got stuck, too. I was just chillin' in the front as about twenty children and six grown men were trying to push the truck out. My counter was still in the back, not strapped down. Everyone finally pushed the truck out of the sand to the beginning of the road where we started. Then the guys start talking in the local language and next thing I know the carpenter gets in the driver's seat next to me and doesn't say anything. The other guys don't get in the bed of the truck and don't remove my counter from it either. Then he reversed the truck a little bit then starts revving the engine. Then he just looks at me, hails Mary, and floors it. I look back and my counter is wobbling, surely going to fall, I thought. I wasn't really sure what exactly his plan was. I didn't think he was going to go full speed into the pool of sand. Ohhh but he was. As we were speeding up there were some kids in the road, looking shocked and amazed and curious as to what he was going to do. Oh God, I thought, move!! They all did.

As soon as we got to the loose sand we started to fish tail and lose some control but that didn't stop him. He was quick to turn the wheel the right way to avoid spinning. Next thing I know we kind of just glided over the top of the sand to the end of it. I looked back and my kitchen counter stayed not only in the bed of the truck, but upright!

When we got back on normal ground we stopped and he has this huge smile on his face and says to me, "You didn't know I could drive, did you?"

Last night as I was laying in bed trying to fall asleep I felt like I was having small itches on my legs and feet. At first I tried to ignore it until I reminded myself nothing's ever really just nothing. So I grabbed my headlamp to see what the itch on my foot was all about, expecting to find nothing but another mosquitoe bite. I turned it on and shone it on my foot to find a really small bug that was sticking out of the top of my foot! I think it was trying to burrow itself...head first! So gross but whatever I killed it. Then I couldn't sleep for awhile after that so I decided to inspect the rest of my sheets and found some more of the same bug and also a few ants. I eventually fell asleep after getting rid of them. My sheets had just been washed so they were probably on them from when they were hanging to dry outside. I'll sleep tight for now on.

Mulungu in Xengana means "foreigner". If anybody ever calls a mulungu a mulungu, it's not necessarily rude, more of a fact. At work, on home visits sometimes, the people we don't know who we visit will ask who is this mulungu? The activistas will say oh, this mulungu? She's our friend and she works with us. Xengana is obviously a barrier in my work here but I've come to appreciate and respect it. I think this is because Africa is currently developing and has numerous mulungu influences from several mulungu countries. So, I would say I like Xengana but I don't like it like I like chick flicks and ice cream. So, I'll say I respect it because being around people who are speaking Xengana makes the experience feel authentic...really African. Which is strangely neat to experience because it's good to know that even though there's so much mulungu history and current influences here, not everything truly African has been lost in the assimilation of foreigners.

I'm a huge Lost fan. I love the show and I can't wait to see the last season. Did Juliet really die? Anyway, sometimes being here makes me feel like I'm in a Lost episode. Mozambique was colonized by the Portuguese. Abandoned buildings have been left behind. The national language is Portuguese. The houses the Portuguese lived in are still here. They're really nice from all that I've seen. The ones that I've seen all have driveways and houses that are obviously very well constructed. They mostly all have running water, or a very nearby source. I have visited a few of my Moz friends who live in these former houses and it reminds me of the Lost episodes when the gang moves into the old Dharma Initiative compound years after they left. It's not strange-I mean they have made it their home here.

Even parts of Mozambican culture seem to have been adopted from mulungus. For example, Mozambicans love hot tea with sugar and drink it probably at least once or twice a day. Has that always been Mozambican culture? Even Xengana has certain words that have been taken from English. One of my coworkers told me this is because of the proximity of South Africa, and as people traveled to and from, took some of the words and made it their own as well. For example, the word bejinho (Portuguese) is kiss in English, and khiss in Xengana.

This past week I've been in Maputo and went on a day trip to South Africa. It's safe to say that Maputo is the most developed part of Moz. It's more modern-it has a mall, restaurants, clubs and hotels. Embassies and people from all over the world are here. I can't help but admit that whenever I'm in Mozambique, more so at site, and see another person who doesn't appear to be African I think that person must be a mulungu, too. I don't think it's bad to think that, to think to label someone like that because it's not a negative thought, just a fact.

I'm not saying that mulungus should leave Africa for the preservation of African culture. Time and actions change things. Colonization happened, and now Mozambique and other African countries are developing. And because they are developing, a result is assistance in different ways from many mulungus. Hopefully over time, Africa will become completely self-sufficient and won't need mulungu assistance. Different things from different cultures as a result of mulungus here have been adopted by Mozambicans and surely other Africans. These things that have been adopted by mulungu cultures have become what Mozambican/African culture is today.

South Africa has a large white population. They look like typical mulungus. It's a strange feeling and thought process to try to explain because they are in fact, not mulungus. South Africa is now their home. So maybe someday, as Africa becomes developed nobody will really be mulungus anymore. It's just an observation and feelings that are hard to put into words- based on the direct, forever effects due to the colonization of Mozambique and of Africa.

Work.

There are over 20 activistas and not all of them have phones and not all speak Portuguese. Four different activistas work each day; 2 in the hospital and 2 in the community to make home visits. Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays, I go into the community with the 2 to make home visits. Wednesdays and Fridays I stay in the health center.

Home visits. Everything is spoken in Xengana. These are domestic visits to monitor treatment adherence for patients. Visits are also used as an opportunity to invite people to go to the hospital to take an HIV test. My last home visit I invited a girl who had a baby to take a test. She said she never had. I asked her why and she said she didn't know. We told her it was important because if she was positive she'd need to start treatment to not infect her baby. The next day I was in one of the nurse's offices and she came in and got a test done. We sat together waiting for her result, which was negative. That was a relief.

There are two palestras (educational lectures) given in the mornings. One at 7 a.m. and one at 9 a.m. to the pregnant mothers in the maternity ward area. They are given in Xengana. I still am not totally sure about everything that's being said. So how can I really improve them?

We have a monthly support group called Cha Positivo. It's the last Thursday of every month. Anybody can attend. We talk about a different topic each month. The activistas aren't really fully trained on facilitating this group. In January and February, my counterpart (coworker w/ ICAP) who is the aconselheira (like a counselor) facilitated the group and spoke generally about HIV/AIDS. It's also all spoken in Xengana. But, my counterpart will translate a summary of what's going at some point during the group. One thing I'm excited about is I'm able to choose some of the topics we discuss.

ICAP also provides funding to start another support group for HIV positive mothers/pregnant women and their children. This is supposed to be Wednesdays and Fridays. We're still waiting to actually form a group, so during our home visits we invite people to come to Cha Positivo and to this support group, which is still "under construction".

I see great potential working here in these different areas. One difficulty I've noticed is communication with the activistas. It's hard to get a hold of them or know whose going to work the next day. So, last week I told them we were going to start meeting every Friday afternoon to touch bases with what's going on with our progress in work. My first meeting with them was a success. I made a contact list with all their names, their phone numbers or number of a neighbor, and which neighborhood they live in. I'm still lacking a few, but I'll eventually run into them. I also used that time to explain to them that I still don't really know exactly what's being said in the palestras, and how can I help them with them if I don't understand them? I brought a notebook and I told them they were going to help me write down each palestra...an outline, really. In Portuguese. We were able to translate two out of seven before they got tired and we called it a day.

So, work here is improving and getting better. Slowly, but surely. Small, positive changes in anyway are significant and important.

One thing i miss from home is the fact that we can get pretty much any fresh fruit year round. We can get fruit according to its season here. Which i think is good because it makes you appreciate it more. Mango season was from nov or dec and ended in january. Mango season was fun because kids will climb up into the trees or throw what they can to get some down. Including Emily. She has a mango tree in her yard and i have a picture of her climbing to the top in order to get the very last mango which was a perfect yellow and pink color. Once she got it and cut it open we came to find out that worms had gotten to it before she did. That didn't stop her. Ha. Em loves mangos so much she's trying to think me ways she can save the mangos that are destined to fall and rot because there's so many. She's already got some good ideas to make drinks and dry them. Anyway there's different kinds of mango trees. The more abundant type from what i've noticed seems to be the kind that's super tall that grows smaller, yellower mangos that are stringier (i made that a word) inside. I personally don't care for this kind. There's a bunch of this type of mango tree in my yard. The other type of mango tree from what i've noticed i think is the best. It's generally shorter and its mangos are much bigger and pink and aren't really stringy inside and they're super delicious! I'm not super crazy for mangos because they're messy and get in your teeth. But now i wish i could have one! After mangos came pineapples. Pineapple season started in dec and it looks like its going to go until this month or april. I should ask my neighbors. I remember when i was in college i brought a pineapple at the store in its natural form. I brought it home and my roommate Taylor asked me if i knew what to do with it. "either i figure out how to cut it up now or i figure it out when i go to mozambique." i'm still not really sure there's a right way. Just cut it! And this season...oranges and watermelons! More oranges though. I love oranges like emily loves mangos. For some reason they're mostly green here. But they're so good! Each little pulp is like a bullet full of juicy citrus flavor. I just can't get enough of them. I'm going to buy more today. Watermelon. I finally found the perfect one last week. A few weeks before i had bought one but it spoiled by the time i got home because it was in a bag and it was so hot that day. But last week i found one that was perfect and see inside and the lady at the market sold it to me for half the price. I finished it in 2 days. This week i bought another watermelon because it was cheap and my hopes were high. It ended up being white inside and not very sweet. Well now i know how to pick 'em!

Has been pretty busy. I'm starting to really like it here and I'm starting to make friends. I'm trying to study at least thirty minutes to an hour of Portuguese per day. I'm really eager to learn and speak really well. Vacation to Brazil someday? I think so! Work is getting better. A few weeks ago I had a meeting with ICAP to check up on how our work's coming along. We kind of re-defined my job and they said I can get off earlier because they understand that PCVs are supposed to be flexible to work in the whole community, not just for our assigned organization.

Yesterday my PC supervisor came for a visit. Just came to check on my house and see how I'm feeling about work. It went really well. I mentioned to her that I still don't know all of my neighbors really well. So later in the evening, my neighbor whose about my age told me that my supervisor told her it'd be nice if she could introduce me to some people. So, one after another, she had about 5 of our neighbors come over and we all sat outside under our tree and ate together as well. Also, yesterday my carpenter came by and I gave him a drawing of the kitchen counter I want him to make. Furnishing my house is really expensive, but it's really worth it. I was going to have him build a dresser since I was tired of living out of my suitcase since I got to Moz. But instead, in one corner of my room, I put four rows of nails on each wall and connected them with rope and I hang my clothes like that. It works pretty well and they're sturdy. There's no way my clothes from back home could fit on there though!

Last weekend Em and I went to Chibuto for a V-Day party. That was fun! I'm running out of things to say I'm not sure what to write about. Any suggestions? It's getting late, gotta go get a chapa! Tchau!

First, an update..since my mom might read this before I get to talk to her on the phone. I finally got an internet phone and got the internet rolling. It was about a two week process. Things take so long here. For example I went to mCel, the cell cervice in Moz, and saw a phone I wanted but couldn't get it because it was out of stock. But then the guy that worked there was telling me he could buy it for me and bring it to me at work. Uhhh, I don't think so, pal. I told him. I went back the next day, still no phone. But then the same guy came to me outside the store and said he had the phone, cord and all and that I could buy it from him. So, I did. It seemed like a legit transaction. Once I got the phone the internet wasn't working so I had to wait a few more days to go back to the mCel store for them to fix it. Emily told me the mCel store in Xai Xai can't do it or something and I'd have to wait til someone we know's going to Maputo to go to the mCel store there. Thankfully, a week later, a friend told me he's going to Maputo. He took my phone, and got the net rollin'. Sweeeet! Be prepared for more updates on facebook, my friends!

Also, yesterday I went to meet the director at the orphanage. That was an intimidating meeting, especially because of the language barrier, but I told her my portuguese is limited and she was super nice and spoke clearly and simply. I went the first time today and got a tour and met some people that worked there. Some of the kids got together and sang a song of welcome to me. It was so cute. I'm still not sure what I'll be doing there but I'm hoping I'll get a couple of good games of "Terra, Mar" in.

Today, my coworker, an activista, told me that they want to start a business called the Association of Women Activistas. They want to sell chickens and firewood. I'm going to look into writing a grant to help start it. There's also a PC Program called JOMA/REDES. It's where a PCV gets a group of adolescent girls/boys together to make stuff and build self-esteem. We'll see how that goes, I still don't know many adolescents but that particular activista said she'd help me out. No worries there.

Home visits here are soo difficult. The neighborhoods here don't have street names. Two activistas per day go together to make two home visits to clients who have tested HIV positive and still need to start treatment. So, what they do is they go out into the neighborhood and simply ask people where the person they're looking for lives. But, asking people is a process in its own. What we do is, we enter someone's house and say, "Licensa!" (Excuse me). Then they stop whatever they're doing and bring out chairs for their unknown guests. They all greet each other and then the activistas ask if they know the person we're looking for. They usually say no. Sometimes we get lucky and the person we were looking for happens to be the person's house we strolled into. But, the meeting is always taken as an opportunity to invite the person/family we're talking to to take an HIV test at the hospital. The process is long, especially in the heat. But it's nice to stop at people's houses because they let us sit in the shade.

The other day I was sitting with an activista and she was telling me that her husband speaks English because he works as a painter in South Africa. I asked her how many kids she had. She told me she has five kids, but four have died. I said, oh so you only have one? "No, I have five but I had four other children who died." I said oh when did the last one die? She said, "that child died last summer when she was four years old." I asked why they died. "They were sick. I want to tell you that this year, I'm going to stop HIV." Let's.

There's a market behind my house. I went to the market one day and poof! I ran into an activista. I think she's the oldest one because she's grandma-like. Anyway, she pretty much only speaks Chengana. So we ran into each other and we were both so excited to see each other. It was a strange moment because she was speaking in Chengana and I was speaking Portuguese. We both didn't know what the other was saying but I can say the excitement of the reunion was mutual.

My friend told me I finally got approval to work at the orphanage in my neighborhood. :)

I want to write more right now but I'm already late to meet a friend to share a Coca-Cola (what a treat) and then I think I might stop by the gas station to get some ice cream. It's Friday!

P.S. Thank you everyone for keeping in touch. Thank you for all the emails and everything else. Thank you to all my mom's piano students for making me birthday cards, I read them on my birthday! I plan on reserving a space on my wall to hang them! I'll take pictures. I love you and miss you all very very very much!

Not a day goes by where I don't get asked if I'm married, have a boyfriend or children, or if I would like to get married. I'm not writing this to make it seem like I'm getting harassed, because I'm not. But it is pretty much an everyday thing for me and it's made me become very assertive and direct in what I'm saying. After these situations I am able to say that I earn the respect of whoever started the conversation.

For example, my coworkers or whoever the person may be asking may say, "Mana Mallorina, where is your husband?" I say I don't have one. "Where is your namorado (boyfriend)?" Don't have one either. I don't want one and I'm not looking for one. "That's not possible because you're pretty. You live alone, nao tem medo (your not scared)?" Nothing scares me and I like being alone and living alone. Americans like being alone. "You should marry a Mozambican so that you can stay here." No because I'm going back to my country. I have decided that I want to marry an American someday.

As I started my venture to come into the city to write this, I passed a group of young men. One of them said to me, "Heyyy white girl!" Excuse me, sir, you are rude and white girl is not my name. Call me Senhora. "Ohhh you speak good Port! I want to marry you." I don't want to marry you. Good bye. He then continued trying to talk to me, but at least he started to address me as "A Senhora..." which is a sign of high respect when speaking.

Or sometimes I can make the situation pretty comical. A couple times men have asked me if I have a husband already, because they would like to marry me. I say, "Yes I do already have a husband. Three, actually." Oh, but do you have children? "Yes I have five children." Wow! Out of that stomach of yours?Then the conversation turns into us talking about where I'm from and why I'm here.

At work, one of my coworkers wants to marry me. I told him straight up, "Look, we're coworkers and I want you to know that I don't want to marry you and that we are not going to fall in love. Do you understand?"

No feelings have ever been hurt. On the bright side: I'm being very assertive and direct in what I want and I'm not "beating around the bush."

It's really hot here. REALLY HOT. The humidity and lack of AC doesn't help, either. Never again will I complain in the U.S. when it's hot and seems unavoidable. Even if the AC were broken, in the U.S. I could have access to ice and lots of it. Just the thought of all that ice is making me sweat. Two examples of how hot it is here:

Emily texted me one day and said something like this, "Mal! Today I opened my water filter to add more and found a festering lizard inside. Gross." We have geckos chillin' everywhere in our houses but the thought of it being in her water is pretty disgusting. Thankfully it was in the top part of the water filter where the iodine candles are and she didn't get sick. Em told me it probably got in there because it probably first crawled into the barrel where her water is stored in her house and as it was being scooped into the water filter...so went the lizard.

I finally turned 22 this week so I'm no longer the only PCV in Moz under the age of 22. Anyway, Emily made me a very impressive cake. It was actually one of the best cakes I've ever had. So the day after my birthday I was in a rush to go to work as usual because I like to get my 20 extra minutes of sleep everyday (I guess some things never change) and I left the cake on top of my table. Emily had stayed the night and had actually put a bowl over it. I got home from work later that day and noticed a looong trail of ants on my kitchen table, and even some on the bowl. I took the bowl off and saw the cake on the plate. There were ants on the plate and maybe only two actually on the cake. But, that didn't stop me. I didn't care. I still cut off a huge piece of goodness in all its chocolate glory. Not to mention, it tasted fresh out the oven because it was so warm from the heat of the room. Anyway I chowed down and didn't see many ants on my slice. After that I got really thirsty and noticed the pressure coming out my water filter was low. So, I opened it to see how much there was. Not much. I noticed a small clump of something floating around. It looked like mold. How did that seep through? I thought. Oh well. I stuck my finger in there to take it out. Got it. Oh but it was not mold! No, it was a cluster of ANTS! I then closely examined the march of ants on the table and noticed they were going to the water filter. And that, my friends, is a brief description of how hot it is here. Ants passed up an easily accessible vanilla cake with chocolate frosting which consisted of more sugar than the recipe called for in order to invade my water filter.

Again today, I opened my water filter to see how much water I had and noticed another small cluster of ants in there!

My job here is to work with people who have HIV/AIDS, and hopefully help to prevent it. As an American, I know how many other Americans feel about HIV. Does it give you the shivers? Many people don't really understand HIV in Africa. If the solution were that simple, it would have been solved/cured a long time ago.

HIV is an epidemic in Mozambique. Obesity is an epidemic in the USA. There's alot of people with HIV in Mozambique. There's a lot of overweight people in America. Prevention- signs, campaigns, organizations, and advertisements for these are everywhere in Mozambique. Prevention for obesity in the same way is everywhere in the U.S. Americans know how to lose weight: eat less and exercise more. People here know how to prevent/treat HIV. But knowing information isn't enough to change one's behavior. Our cultures don't help our problems. In the USA, restaurants serve way too much food and add stuff that isn't healthy. Here, with HIV, there's certain cultural aspects that don't help the problem, either.

I know what you're thinking. "Yeah, as Americans, we know how to lose weight and we're still fat and people die because they're morbidly obese...but at least it's caused by food and not sex." Is there really a difference? Maybe you as an individual lead a healthy lifestyle when it comes to food, but as far as changing the problem for a whole country...It's complicated, don't you think?

So, what exactly am I doing here? Good question because I'm still figuring out the answer.

Here's what my job is:

I work at a health center (like a mini hospital) in my neighborhood. There are a group of women there, known as activistas, who are almost all HIV positive. They give polestras (which means like lecture). They give 2 polestras during the morning at 7 and 9 about anything from HIV transmission, malaria, or diarreia. There's lots of different topics. I'm supposed to "strengthen" these polestras by maybe creating new ones and/or making the ones they already have better.

There is a mom/child HIV support group that talks about nutrition. I'm supposed to dabble in that somehow.

The activistas make home visits to people in the community and I'm supposed to go with them on those.

During my 1st month I've been just sitting in with the aconselheira, a woman who gives "psychosocial support" to patients. So basically I've just been listening to patients talk about their treatment and how they are preventing from spreading HIV. BUT, this week I finally got to go with an activista into the community on home visits, which, by the way, I can't wait to share that experience with my social work professors/former internship supervisor during college. And, I've been spending more time with the activistas, and on Monday, they want me to give one. We'll see how that goes. So this seems really broad but that can be a good thing because that means there's alot of room for me to do my own thing. And, all the polestras are given in Chengana. So I'm learning that, too. There's also an orphanage in my neighborhood that I'm getting involved in but I'm waiting to get approval to go work there. We'll see where that goes.

I think I'm gonna like it here.

Has a whole new meaning outside of America. For my first couple weeks in Xai Xai, I had diarreia. I should have called PCMO but didn't because I figured it would pass, and because it was only once a day. Anyway, New Year's Eve, Emily and I chowed down on some buttered mashed potatoes with buttered chicken and more buttered stuff. Oh did I pay for it in the latrine. In the morning, I rolled onto my side and that's when I felt it. I can't explain the feeling that was going on inside my body. I just knew I had to go to the bathroom and I had to go right at that moment.

I yelled for Emily, asked her where her keys were for the latrine outside. "HURRY! I'm not playing around!" Whatever, she finally gets the keys and I didn't run to the latrine because I couldn't if you know what I mean but I walked as fast as I could. As soon as I got in there and as soon as I hovered over her wooden "toilet", and was halfway to sitting down, I lost control. Yup. I. Lost. Control. I got business all over that wooden seat. Em knew something bad happened when I went back into her house asking for a bucket of water. She asked me if I wanted to bathe. "No, I need a bucket of water in the latrine..." "Why? What could you have possibly DONE?!" she said. "Just give it to me. I couldn't help it." I told her.

I had to buy her a few new rolls of tp after that. I finally called PCMO a few days later and finally finished my antibiotics. It's all good now and I'm ready to chow down for my b-day.

Americans are able to pronounce rrrrr, but not people here. So, my new name here now is Mallorina. Finally, it's 2010 and I'm almost 22. I'm the youngest PCV in Moz. I brought in the New Year with my dear friend Emily, whose site is not too far from mine. We had made some new years resolutions together and one of mine was to be more positive. As soon as the clock struck midnight and we said "happy new year", I broke it and said "Aw, too bad we can't be with our family and friends right now." Homesickness has reached an all time high. I know I've mentioned that before but unless you have been alone in a foreign country you wouldn't really understand. I talked to a fellow Moz 13er who was visiting Xai Xai and was telling him how my life here is an emotional rollercoaster everyday. All in one day, I can be thinking how much I love it here and then a few hours later something annoying or difficult can happen that will make me want to go home. I told him that day at work my neighbor texted me saying thank you because he thought he did better on an English exam because I helped him a little bit. And that my day was also good because one of my coworkers finally gave me my secret santa present which was a fruit bowl. But then something happened in the same day like I had a small misunderstanding with one person and thats enough to bring my mood down when I should be really proud that my neighbor sent me such a great message. I'm not sure if this is human nature, or American culture, or just a personal flaw for it to be so hard to stay positive. I can't speak for everyone, so I'll say its just a personal flaw that I'm willing to share with everyone. I talked to my dad a few weeks ago and he told me, "Mal, you don't have to be there. You have a choice. So if you want to come home, you have the ability to do that." And as soon as he said it, I knew I didn't want to come home. Thanks, dad.

But, I'm getting better, I really am. You can ask Emily...So, being positive everyday is a goal. In order to become that, I have to focus on what I think sucks and how I can make it better. Here's what sucks:

1. My house is empty. I only have 2 beds, one table and two chairs. I don't have a voltage regulator so I can't use my computer.

2. I have been having stomach issues- diarreia.

3. It's really hard to define my job at my job.

Here's how I'm looking at it now-

1. I don't have alot in my house but if I didn't have a bed, I couldn't sleep. If I didn't have a table, I couldn't eat on it or put my stove on it. I have a stove and a fridge. Essentials for survival. I have the means to get furniture. Actually, I went to a carpenter and designed my own china cabinet/bookcase thing. I can't get it delivered like Gallery Furniture, but it'll get in my house somehow. And if it doesn't fit thru the door, we could probably just peel back my tin roof and set it in..just kidding.

2. I finally called PCMO and got some antibiotics. My stomach is still sensitive and I still get diarreia but atleast its more controllable now. This will have to be a whole nother blog entry.

3. Defining my job as a Peace Corps Volunteer is the most difficult. But, I have an awesome ICAP supervisor and the activistas I work with are really great and excited to work with me. This also will have to be another entry on its own.

Then, I was thinking, I have a good Peace Corps site. I have a market right behind my house, I'm 10 mins from the beach, 5 minutes from the city, I have a best friend, Emily, who is easy to get to, and my job has potential. I can't really complain. If I'm unhappy here, I would have to go back to the U.S. and be unhappy there. So, I'm working on it. I'm finding small things that make me happy. Whenever something gets to me, I have a permanent list of things in my head that I can think of that automatically lifts my spirits.

I ended up killing that chicken on Thanksgiving. I was not expecting it...I came home and my host mom had three chickens chillin on the porch. She said today was the day. I said, but my brother isnt here to kill it too. She said I would have to do it alone, or let her do it because either way it was going to die. So I sucked it up and killed a chicken. Theres no better day than Thanksgiving to kill a bird!

Next Tuesday I swear in to become a Peace Corps Volunteer! Finally! I decided when I was in high school that I wanted to join the Peace Corps someday, so after years of volunteer work, 3 years in college, a year of the application process for the Peace Corps, I am finally here! I made it! I am so relieved and feel so accomplished.

I dont have anything specific to write about. But I am trying to think fast since I am paying by the minute. Send me some suggestions, anyone?

Hmm...I just want to say how proud I am of my host brother. So here, the education system is ´´a little´´ corrupt. Children get by with cheating and teachers have inappropriate relationships with their students. Not many people make it past grade 10. And, people may have to repeat grades several times, so it would not be weird to find young adults in the 7th grade. Anyway, with that being said, my host brother is 17. SEVENTEEN! And he is graduating high school this month. Not only that, but he just completed grade ten and took a test that he passed with flying colors that is enabling him to skip the next 2 grades and move on to college. Yup, he is going to college! When I first got here, he told me he wanted to be a teacher and teach portuguese in the U.S. someday. Two weeks later, he wanted to be a doctor. A week later, he said he wants to be President of Moçambique. Then, he went to the university in Maputo to apply and has to take a test next month. But he came back saying he is going to study math and physics to be a teacher because all the spaces to become a doctor were full. A little might have gotton lost in translation...but I think he may still be trying to become a doctor..Point of the story: my host brother, who I am going to just call my brother for now on, has ambition and I am proud to say that I believe he will really do great things for this country in the future!

Tomorrow is our party with our host families. They all pitched in 900 MTS! PC told us they bought a COW! I am really excited to attend...more excited to eat good food and take lots of pics. Cant wait to tell yall all about it!

xoxo

Originally I was only going to send this to my family, but I thought I would share it with whoever reads this.

First, I want to say how hard it is being away this holiday season and that I appreciate all the support from back home. I miss all my family and friends very much, and love all of you dearly. I think about each one of you everyday.

Things I am thankful for-

1. During my site visit to Tete, I visited a PCV who started a day school for young children. This program started when she met a couple who had a similar interest and desire for such a program. They are not getting paid. All the money they have for this program goes strictly to food for the children during the day. The children are being taught English and Portuguese, along with English Christmas songs. The place was not like any day care center in the U.S. The buildings were made of tin and there was a small area with swings. I think the PCV told me they helped build it themselves. If it werent for this couple these children may not have this opportunity.

2. This week I visited an orphanage for girls about just over an hour outside Namaacha. As soon as we arrived, all the girls got in a group and sang to us. This particular orphanage was a place where the girls learned how to cook, work in a garden, clean, and sew and make crafts. They also have a new building for schooling. This orphanage was started and is funded by a Moz woman who is independently wealthy, and was an orphan herself.

Let us all be thankful for people like this in the world.

Yesterday Peace Corps and all its people celebrated Thanksgiving. It was a pretty sweet day. I finally got my site assigment information. Its crazy to think that I JUST found out where exactly Ill be going, and what exactly Ill be doing. But hey, you gotta have a little faith to do this, right?

I will be moving to Xai Xai, which is the provincial capital of Gaza province. It is located right by the beach. Its only 3 to 4 hours north of Maputo. My good friend Emily will be stationed only 10 minutes away from me! I will be working with an organization called ICAP. International Care and Treatment Program. ICAP is based in the hospital and works on patient treatment adherence and home based care and implements community activities with families led by activistas. In the letter the former PCV sent me, she said theres an orphanage or childrens center, along with offices of World Vision, Save the Children, and FGH (I think) located in Xai Xai. So I am sure my next two years will be a great learning experience. My site description also suggested I learn a local language, which I was already planning. The day before yesterday, I told my host family that I just may end up learning their dialect, Chengana, if Im in the south. And sure enough, I am! They were really excited and tried to already teach me a few phrases, I think that was more for entertainment than anything. Ha. So in about two weeks, Ill be off to Xai Xai.

Stay tuned to se what the next two years has in store for me!

I am going to kill a chicken before I leave Namaacha. Supposively its a rite of passage.

Next time you go into a grocery store and select products, seriously take a moment to think about how that product got into your cart. Being in the Peace Corps, even thought Im only in training right now, I have had some extra free time on my hands lately, which leads to deep thoughts that get to challenge my beliefs, or validate them. Whats even more fun is sharing these discussions with my colleagues.

The first time my host mom bought a chicken, I couldnt even be in the same vicinity when she killed them. They were so cute cuddling next to each other. They looked so peaceful, I almost felt guilty. The second time, I told her I would watch. I watched her take it to the yard, step on its wings, and put the knife to its neck. Then I turned around. I couldnt watch as the chicken was shrieking. The third time, we had two chickens I believe and it was nighttime, and pretty chilly. The two chickens were cuddling under the charcoal stove we had going. I was able to watch that time. It helped that it was dark, but I watched from the porch. With the second chicken, I was actually able to hand it to her and watch again. After these experiences, I have seriously thought about becoming a vegetarian. I still have yet to actually kill a chicken, but I told my host mom I want to before I leave, as long as my brother does it with me because he never has either. Anyway, so then this experience led into this whole thought process about whether I should be able to even eat anything that I am not able to kill. I was discussing this with a former trainee, and he said he felt the same way about this. That taking the life of something can make you feel sad or whatever, but after its done, its done. Just like that.

So then I was thinking, ok now lets be real. I am from Texas and I am surely not going to give up filet mignon in my future. Ive decided as long as the killing of animals is humane, Ill eat it.

During our permaculture training, the trainer told us that when putting manure in the crops, be sure you dont use human waste, because our waste is toxic. This has led me to think more about what I am putting into my body. Why is our waste toxic? What am I putting into my body that would be toxic to the soil? And what does that do inside my body? Theres a whole science on this topic, and I would love to learn more about it.

I have yet to kill a chicken, but when I do, I will keep in mind that that chickens life has been worth this lesson.

So last weekend the Peace Corps decided to send all the trainees to different provinces where there are different PCV sites. We got to spend the weekend with them. Some traveled far, some not. Two days ago I was seriously considering about throwing in the towel and coming home. Want to understand why? Lets rewind.

Thursday (last week)

I decided I wanted to go to Tete Province because my language instructor had said they have animals. So, I get my site visit placement and find out Im going to Tete (I had no say in this either). Specifically, to Angonia to visit 2 education volunteers.

Saturday

I leave in the morning with my friends and former colleagues Sara, who is also a health PCT, and Esther, whose an education PCT. We get driven from Namaacha by Peace Corps to Maputo to fly to Tete. I must note that there was laughing cow cheese included in our meal on the plane and lets just say my taste buds were ecstatic. So, we arrive in Tete and its hotter than Hades...I almost said hotter than Africa, because thats what I used to say in the U.S. Now I understand the meaning of that phrase. Anyway, its really hot and we´re in Tete City. I call our PCV to see whats up. She says to get a taxi to the catholic cathedral and that it should cost 200 MTS. Ok, sweet. We get in a taxi and head to the igreja. The dude then says the ride costs 500 MTS! I was like umm, no. My colleague said this should be 200. Then Sara had already given him a 500. So we waited for the PCVs to arrive. I explained the situation and then they start calling the guy a thief and that he was robbing us and that they were going to call the police. He then gave Sara 200 MTS back. Settled. The PCVs told us we were staying with one of their Brazilian friends at their house. Uhhh what they did NOT mention is that these people live in a mansion! So this guy and his family had befriended these PCVs. He then provided us with Brazilian bbq, running water, toilets, and air conditioning. Not to mention we were able to catch a few episodes of an old season of CSI. Besides that, I saw the Zambezi river and no I did not see any hippos or crocs. I know, I was also disappointed. Somehow, a small reminder of Namaacha happened to slip into my bag. So as Im getting ready to shower, I open my backpack to grab some clothes and see something scurry at the bottom. I freaked and shrieked. A huge cockroach the size of Dallas climbs out of my bag. Sara comes up, I tell her the situation. I was amazed that a cockroach could survive a two hour plane ride, and the ride there. How did it survive? She said, ´´Were in Africa, Mal.´´ Yeah, thats great, just kill it. And she did.

Sunday

So Sara and one of the PCVs and I leave Tete city to Angonia. At first, we were going to take a chapa, which would have cost 190 MTS until this lady from Malawi in her van behind the chapa stop said she would take us for the same price. We decided to switch and go with her because extra leg room in a 4 hour ride sounds pretty nice. And, if you really understood a ride in a chapa, you would have went too. It was legit. If you want to talk to me about this decision, email me. Anyway, so we get in her van and then on the way there her car breaks down more than once and we keep having to pour water in it or something. Not to mention while we were broken down at one point our chapa that we could have been on strolled by and waved at us. Whatever, just get us to Angonia please. We finally get there, and the lady didnt give us change (we gave her 200 MTS each). Should have gone on the chapa. That night in Angonia, however, we were able to make pizza which was worth the trip. One of the PCVs had mentioned that the dough wasnt cooked all the way, and asked if I wanted it cooked longer. At that point, I was starving and salivating, and figured Ive been eating cookie dough like nobodys business all my life. So, I ate the pizza.

Monday

We went to visit one of the PCVs schools. She started a secondary project with a couple. They began a pre school for kids ages 3 to 6, where they go all day and teach them english and portuguese. Its a great opportunity for them but unfortunately funding is becoming a problem but theyre working on it. After that, I bought some capulanas and chilled the rest of the day. Also, my host mom sent me a text message saying they all missed me. Awwwww. Eu tamben, Eu tamben...

Tuesday

Oh. My. Gosh. We had to take a chapa to Zobwe because thats where Esther had gone to visit after we split in Tete city. So the ride was about 3 hours. Most uncomfortable ride in my life to say the least. I was so squished and uncomfortable. Then, at one point, we came across an accident and saw a lady lying on the side of the road. She wasnt dead, but she didnt look that great. It was really sad. What can people out here do? There are no ambulances, and even if there were, it would take forever to get to a hospital. Then, what about the quality of that hospital? Pretty sad to think about, huh? So the chapa drops us off at a turn off point and then we have to get a ride the rest of the way. So we get on this truck with other paying passengers and off we go. Theres this lady with a baby in front of me sitting in the bed of the truck and the way I was sitting couldnt have been comfortable for her. So I asked her in portuguese if she was comfortable and she just gives me this blank stare. Then this guy next to her said Zungo, or whatever the local word is for white person or foreigner. And I was like (he spoke english), Im asking her if shes comfortable why are you calling me that? He must have misunderstood I have no idea, maybe he just wanted to inform me of that word. Awkward. So we get off finally and people ask us to buy all sorts of goodies and at this point Im already tired and about to lose my marbles because I was overwhelmed from the means of travel. Then this guy grabs my arm and asks me to buy something and thats when I almost lost it. But, I just shrugged away and it was all good. That night at the PCVs house we made fajitas and played games with the neighborhood children. Oh, not to mention that when we were going to bed there were all sorts of bugs flying around and then I felt something on my face. I flick it off and tell the PCV to turn on her flashlight. It was just a small beetle, no harm. So then Sara smashes it. Once again, all good.

Wednesday

By this point Im ready to get back to Namaacha. I have bites from something all over my body. It looks like I have chicken pox but not as bad. So, we take a chapa back to Tete city. We went into a cafe for a bit and I met some ladies that are Americans that are here to translate the Bible into some local language. Connections, connections. Got her business card just in case. After that we walk across Tete city in 114 degree heat to find a chapa to take us to the airport. I felt like I was going to pass out but just kept on truckin. We finally find a chapa and during the ride some dude got off and didnt pay so him and the cobredor (the guy who takes the money for the chapa) get into a fight. It didnt escalate too much so we keep going and finally get to the airport. By the time we get there I feel nauseous. We get on the plane and theres a little turbulence and then they start bringing out food. It was then that I knew I was going to puke. And I did. Twice. Hopefully its just motion sickness. Finally we land and Peace Corps is there to pick us all up. I wait in the car and puke again. I had already taken dramamine for motion sickness and had a little water. Then on the ride back to Namaacha, I puke again. By this point Im getting dehydrated and my friend told me I that its bad when you cant keep down water, and that one cause could be e. coli poisoning from uncooked pizza dough. Thats just great because I definitely ate that this weekend. Awesome. So, I call the doc and she gives me some rehydration salts. That night I finally got home and passed out and was able to keep everything down.

The next day my host mom made me soup for breakfast. During training that day (yesterday), I was having second guesses. BUT, then I received EIGHT letters! Whoo! I started to feel better. And then I reminded myself why I join the Peace Corps, spent some quality time with my host family, and I got over my second guesses of being here. Then today, I received TWO more letters! Whoo!

MUCH THANKS TO Aunt Marla, Granny, Mom, Dad, Alison, Eric, Karissa, Kelsey, and Sara. Thank you all SO much for sending me letters and lots of love in the mail. It means so much, you have no idea how much I value a short note. I plan on putting my cards on my wall for decoration! LOVE YALL! XOXOXO

Im going to go where no other Peace Corps blog has gone before and talk about homesickness. Oh. My. Gosh. Training is an emotional roller coaster. One day I absolutely hate it and other days I feel like Im fitting in and learning and doing good. I miss the U.S. I miss the Reality television shows, Oprah, MTV, and pepperjack cheese. I miss Sonic slushes on hot days and Blue Bell ice cream, too. I miss driving my car with the windows down and listening to trendy music on the radio. I miss cars yielding to me as a pedestrian. I miss being at a restaurant and not having confusion with the waitress because she speaks english also. I miss mashed potatoes. I miss being able to call home whenever I want to. I miss being able to stay out past dark. I miss all my friends in San Marcos! I miss movies. I miss my bed and my big fluffy pillow. I miss shopping with my mom and drinking coffee with my dad. I miss my familys dog, Kacy. I miss being able to wear tank tops and shorts and not have to worry about it. I miss paved sidewalks that arent muddy when it rains. I miss Dr. Pepper. I miss hot showers and toilets and clean running water. I miss the USA!!!

Though I miss all of these things, everybody Ive talked to feels the same way. So dont think Im gonna quit training and come home. Its normal. Anyway, so halloween was this past weekend. I was a hippie. I was going to wear a baseball jerzee but my brother didnt have anything to wear so I gave him that and I wore a tye dyed shirt..Ironically, it was the same shirt I wore last year (remember, Daniel)? I doubt youll read this but I thought of you! So we go to the first party where all the PCTs brought their siblings and there was limbo and lots of refrescos and food. I brought coconuts. So good. Anyway, afterwards we went to this second party that was supposed to be just for PCTs but we were able to bring our family if we wanted. I brought my host brother, and even if I didnt want to he told me he wouldnt leave me alone anyway because theres bad ppl out that nite and he said he needed to protect me. ha. It was pretty ridiculous when we got there. The ppl at the gate wanted to charge our siblings 100 MTS to get in. Ridiculous. So we called our PC director and she settled it. We pretty much told them if they dont get in for free, we will all just go to a different barraca. It all worked out. So there we danced and everyone had lots of fun.

Yesterday one of my fellow PCTs and I passear~ed down this road where we heard there was a river. We probably walked about 4 miles in the afternoon heat (remember were in the mountains) to see whats LEFT of a river. Anyway, so on our way back we stop at a barraca for some water since we were seriously about to pass out. This lady sells us 2 bottles and sits with us and starts talking with us. We left after she criticized my friends portuguese skills. Ppl here are just really blunt.

So I decided that Im going to make a blanket or quilt out of capulana cloth. Ive never sewed anything in my life but Im going to start now. Well see how it turns out! Hmm...what else? I have come to love grape and orange Fantas. My favorite dish is mboa, which is this leafy goodness in coconut oil. Also, if anyone reads this and emails me, Im sorry if I dont write back, know that I truly appreciate anything I receive but I cant always write back but I eventually will.

TCHAU!!

Ill try to make this fast bc i only have 9 mins left of internet and theres a mosquito flying around. haha calm down i just took my malaria meds. anyways ill try to sum up my experience so far as quick as possible. forgive the misspelled words and typos.

got to philly for orientation there are 65 ppl in our training group weºre from all over the country! at orientation we talked about the importance of our awareness of our behavior bc we are representing our country and if we make a bad impression on someone we can ruin the reputation of our nation. then we drive to nyc and hop on a 15 hour flight. it was crazy bc we left at 11 in the morning and i dozed off for about 2 hours and when i woke up it was completely black outside bc of the time zone change. WEIRD to experience thats for sure.

as soon as we hopped off the plane the first thing i noticed was the smell. it reeked. then we drive thru maputo the capital and it looked like scenes from that wonderful movie ´´slumdog millionaire´´. not kidding.

i know earlier i said that i thought my biggest fear would be bugs. im in a very nice hotel right now and havent really seen much but i am pretty sure that will be the least of my worries. im more worried about integrating into my community, and ive realized how hard it is to communicate in a foreign world, even with the portuguese that i do know. ive been in training all day today and i felt myself getting homesick so i went and looked at pictures of all my friends and family back home. i miss you all so very much. even tho im with many americans in my group its still hard because its not like we can grow close so fast. please write and email me you have no idea how much it means to me. anyway after i decided to stop moping around i went and had dinner w some new ppl and tried some octopus. it was alright, kinda chewy. i might try it again for lunch tomorrow. for lunch today i had some fish and the fish here is not de-boned. we have been spoiled on fish fillets in the states thats for sure. i couldnt even finish my meal bc it was time for our meeting again and i couldnt finish picking out the bones. then when i scraped all the meat off the bones i still found more small bones in the rest of the meat. sucks. anyway i cant wait til tomorrow well be going to namaacha, a village where we will spend the next 10 weeks for pre service training. it will be really intense for cultural and language training. wish me luck . anyway gotta go times almost up. i love you and miss you all so SO much!!

xoxo

So exactly one week from right now, I will be about to wake up to get ready to leave for the airport. Rather, I will most likely be restless all night because I will be so nervous/anxious/scared/excited to leave for Mozambique! In case you didn't know, I leave next Tuesday, the 29th @ 7:30 a.m. from Houston to Philly. We have orientation in Philly, then leave @ 3 a.m. to NYC and our plane leaves there on the 30th in the late morning to head off to South Africa, then to Maputo, Mozambique!! I have so many things to do before I leave: pack, finish my Rosetta Stone courses, and say final farewells to everyone. I didn't even get my final medical clearance til last week, in case you were wondering why I am just now starting to pack and buy stuff for my trip.

During my first 3 months will be specifically Pre-Service Training. I'll only have internet access once a week. Please write me! I will post my address before I leave. Even though I'm sure whoever reads this probably already has it. I'll post it anyway.

The only thing I am NOT looking forward to are...can you guess? BUGS. SNAKES. SPIDERS. Anything that crawls, slithers, flies, slides, runs, or basically anything that is not a mammal, I'm not looking forward to...Oh, rodents also, since I'm pretty positive those are mammals. Don't laugh at me if they're not. Yeah but bigger animals like lions, cape buffalo...not so scared. Ok, I say that, but they must be least likely to get into my home...and Bear Grylls taught me how to scare them off if I hear their foot falls. :-)

You're probably now thinking about how much time you think I'll last over there. I'm trying to prepare myself ahead of time. I'm trying to tell myself ahead of time, "ok, for every bug/creeper that I will come into contact with will just be a sign from God that I am making a difference in some way."

You know what, if each pestering creature I am to come into contact with represents a child I can teach something to, or represents a myth about HIV/AIDS that I can disspell for someone, or represents the number of moments that are to positively affect my life forever, then maybe I can adjust more easily to Africa and all its creatures. Great, right?

Hopefully my future creepy, crawling, flying friends are not planning to throw me a house warming party upon my arrival.

This is my new blog site where you'll be able to find entries that describe my journey in Mozambique as a PCV. This thing was kind of complicated to set up, but we all know that computers are not my forte...I'm not sure on what exact day I leave yet, but I'm sure it will be around 9/28 or so. I will definitely be overseas in a month!