Wednesday, December 31, 2008

More next month…

I could write more/ do have the time… but I’m going to wait off until next month. I’ve been here a few weeks but I’d like to be out more getting to know Maxixe and the community. I already know a few people, two of which I can call friends at this point, but I’m sure I can find my niche somewhere given the time.

One place I’d like to visit during the week is the local Catholic Church. I already know the priests there and so I’m going to see what I can get involved in… Do they have a chorus for the ‘25 and under Mass?’ I don’t remember. Or maybe I would prefer the ‘adult Mass’ . . . I’m just gonna have to wait and see.

Besides that I’m planning on spending New Year’s with my co-worker and his family, so that’s a good start. Gosh, sometimes I feel like a freshman all over again… I don’t really know anybody and I don’t really know where everything is/what they’re called. Key word for the next few months: patience… I’m going to need a lot of it. Right now I’m just trying to take one day at a time… I suppose that’s all I can do…

PS. I miss you all. I love you all. Catchya later.

(NOTE*ALL PREVIOUS POSTS WRITTEN DECEMBER 30*)

Holiday Road

Here in Mozambique, most people do not drive a car, so chapas are all the rage. Chapas, like bush taxis in Niger (so I hear J), go pretty much everywhere and are very common. How it works is: you have to find a chapa marked with the name of your final destination or a chapa that you know passes by your destination, you pay the money collector, and then you board the chapa. It’s an easy three step method, I know…

What is a chapa and what exactly is this ‘chapa experience’ you might still be asking?

Well, the chapa is usually a sliding door van (not too dissimilar to the kind of vans high school sports or community centers utilize… although there are differences) that can fit… well… should fit 12-15 people (It depends on the size of course). That said, chapa workers usually like to cram the vans to make as much cash as possible and so… it’s not uncommon to have 20-25 in there. Often you’ll see a chapa drive by that is so packed that a few people are standing by the sliding door with their butts pressed to the window.

Also common in chapas: livestock. People like to bring chickens, which does make sense in a society where people often kill their own food. The chickens are relatively well behaved though, which they should be since they are usually being held upside down by their feet to keep the shuffling and moving to a minimal. Goats are another thing. I haven’t seen a goat inside a chapa yet (maybe I need to give it time), but I have seen them tied to the tops of larger than van sized chapas. Just today I saw a large truck with like 25 or 30 goats tied to the top… and yes I worry one is going to fall down every time. It’s just going to take a while for me to get used to seeing that I suppose.

Finally, there are three things that so far I have encountered I think every time I’ve been on a chapa. The first is that on a chapa, there are always a few children crunched together on at least one seat. Since they are so small they are expected to cram in together to take up as much room as an adult would. Second, there is always either the crying baby and/or the baby being breastfed. On the latter point I think people in the states are a bit more private, but here it’s very much ok to do in public. Last (but not least)… there’s the smell. People might bring fish on the chapa from time to time whether fresh or not. My friend Rabiah actually had quite the experience in a ten hour chapa ride with really smelly fish in the back seat… not too fun. J Also, in any given group of people, there’s always going to be at least one person who woke up and just really didn’t feel like really showering that day. Add heat and a cramped space and you get a somewhat smelly chapa…

That all aside, one of the best parts of the chapa experience is just sitting back and going with the flow. There have been a handful of times at least thus far when I’ve just stopped to think: ‘oh my gosh I’m living in another country on the other side of the world.’ Mozambique is beautiful, especially around where I live, so the view is often breathtaking outside that crowded chapa’s windows. Of course, it’s also been interesting to people watch on the inside: hearing Mozambican jokes, arguments, and stories. Sometimes just sitting there in silence I like to take it all in. Just another day on a chapa…

‘Welp… See You Later…’

After a 10 hour trip that probably should have taken 5 or 6, I finally arrived at Maxixe. I couldn’t see much out my window since night had fallen quickly only moments before, but that didn’t really matter at all. I was home.

I had watched literally every other volunteer in the car (all 6) shove off one by one, their faces full of optimism, confusion, and utter terror all at the same time. I think it’s safe to say that I myself was very conflicted as well, with as mix of relief and anxiousness every time I found out that I was not the next person to be dropped off to site. Was it really the day?

By the time we had gotten to Maxixe at least I was in the company of a few other volunteers. Emily had to stay in a hotel with the driver and our Portuguese professor (Carlos) because her house still didn’t have a bed (Our organizations are supposed to provide at minimal a bed, a table, and two chairs). Meanwhile, Steph and Becky live a bit more up the road, so they would most likely get to walk me into my new home. Of course, things don’t always go as planned, do they?

As we drove into the city, I could not for the life of me get into contact with my boss. My phone was out of credit, as was my Portuguese teacher’s, so we just went to Steph and Becky’s new place first. After a brief meeting with the principal and other teachers at the school, a nice bumpy ride through the darkness to their house, and the drop off; we finally contacted my boss. The only problem was that the guy Peace Corps had hired to drive the other van had ‘mutinied’ because he was officially way off the clock. So it was me, my Prof, the Peace Corps driver, Em, and the teachers that we had to drop off all packed into the Peace Corps jeep. This topped with my anticipation probably didn’t help my anxiety…

Fast forward a few minutes and I’m standing in front of my work, met by 2 or 3 co-workers and my boss. It’s dark, I don’t know these people, I’m supposed to put my stuff in their car and go drive off with them… needless to say I’m a little scared. I think both Em and my Prof read the look on my face and Em came and sat in the car with me. I don’t think I’ve felt that vulnerable in a long time…

When I got to my house finally, I’m paraded in by all the Peace Corps people as well as my staff and my new neighbor, Vaz. ‘Everything looks good here. It’s time for us to go.’ And with a few handshakes and a hug, I was alone.

My house looked lived in and there was still a bunch of things left behind: stove top with gas, spice rack with spices, chairs, table, straw couch, straw bedroom furniture, and a wooden bed… yes, by most volunteers’ standards, I have it made. Having that stuff was great, yeah, but it didn’t change the fact that I was hungry and it was too late to buy food to cook with. Thank God for Vaz, my 16 year old neighbor/ the mediator between myself and my landlord, who gave me a bowl of rice with a seafood sauce for dinner. He answered all of my immediate questions and worries and told me than if I needed anything, to just holler. After he left I put together my water filter, made up my bed, and as I lay there, I thought… maybe I’m not so alone after all.