Peace Corps: Mozambique

I'm in Niger

2010-08-11T03:11:00.002-04:00

NOTE: I wrote this entry a few months back and completely forgot to post it. Enjoy!

The plane finally came to a complete stop. Seat belt signs were off. And I was now standing in line, waiting to step outside and walk through customs to see her.

I have to admit that as I neared the airplane door, I imagined my reaction to the intense heat that I’d heard so much about. I would collapse onto my knees, sweat pouring out endlessly. ‘I need more air!!’ I’d cry out to amused onlookers. Most of them wouldn’t have understood me anyways, since a vast majority for some reason only spoke Chinese, but my humiliation would be complete regardless.

The reality, of course, couldn’t have been more different as I walked through the door onto the runway stairs. I looked out onto the tarmac and focused on the tiny airport than didn’t look much different than the one in Maputo. I was met with heat, yes, but it wasn’t horrible. A strong sun, but a noticeable dry feel to the air. Sure, even wearing jeans and close toed shoes, I felt alright. I walked down the stairs and onto the tarmac, my British WWII era satchel bouncing lightly on my side, as my mind ignored the unusual spectacle of endless sand in the distance and went to the next inevitable thought. Where is she?

The customs line inside the small airport took forever, especially once our eyes finally met. She was waiting for me in the next room with a Tupperware container and a huge bottle of water, which I’d later come to learn was the best present ever in a place as warm as Niger. All we could do was smile as I stood there like a goofball waiting for the line to get shorter. My heart was pounding, she was still smiling, and all I wanted to do was hop out of line, go run over to pick her up and hug her tightly. My God, was it wonderful to be in Niger…
__________

There’s something to be said about anticipation and suspense, about those moments that lead up to the inevitable high point.

The good guy in the movie is about to pull it together and save the day.

Oh my gosh! That ball looks like it could just make it over the fence!

‘I’m going to be able to hold my fiancée again.’

For some reason, that scene is one of the most vivid in my mind. And of course, it is the starting point in my little series of adventures that began in a tiny airport in Niamey.

In the time following our first rendezvous, Leah and I had a lot of fun together. We spent time helping me put faces to the names I’d heard so many times before on the phone. She showed me around her town, her work, where PCVs hang out, and even introduced me to her host family. Best of all, we got to spend some time together relaxing and just enjoying each other’s company. Did someone say Scrabble?!

Along the way, I made my share of observations about Niger, taking care to just sit back and let it all sink in. I admired the beautifully crafted Mosques as well as sand colored houses and buildings. I noticed the effects of under development: the piles and piles of trash on the side of the road, plastic bags covering trees, and people throwing trash out of bus windows onto the road. I experienced the genuine kindness of Nigeriens in the street and at Leah’s home. I ate delicious food such as… oh gosh I don’t know how to spell it, but it’s pronounced ‘kill-she,’ which is a type of jerky covered in peanutty or barbequey sauce. And of course I got to have a taste of Peace Corps life in Niger.

My overall analysis: Niger is an absolutely amazing country. Beautiful and friendly. Good food and better people. And even though getting back to Mozambique was a huge issue, I’m so happy to have visited. It was great to see just what another side of Africa is like. And it was wonderful to see Leah, to share her experiences with her, and to (for once in a long while) be in the same place to share our mutual excitement and anticipation for that high point to come this June.

The Top Five Ways Chapas Make Me Want to Overturn Tables in Rage

2010-06-24T04:21:00.004-04:00

One would think that by now I’d be used to the unpredictability of riding in a chapa. I mean, seriously, it’s been almost two years now of traveling in such a cramped vehicle (which very closely resembles the outside of the Ninja Turtle van by the way). From Maputo to Maxixe, from Maxixe to Chonguene to Chibuto, from Maputo to Quissico, the inconveniences often come up seemingly at the worst time possible. And of course, as these things happen, I almost always find my patience pressed to the breaking point.

That being said, in my hopes to better share another piece of my Mozambican experience with the 4 or 5 people that follow this blog, I have created the following short list: The Top Five Ways Chapas Make Me Want to Overturn Tables in Rage.

And so without further ado…

5) Break Downs- Less frequent that I initially imagined, breakdowns still happen more often that I’d like and during some of the worst times at that. You might ask, what’s bad timing in a country as reserved about schedules and deadlines as Mozambique? I answer: Needing to go to the market to buy food for dinner, but having your chapa break down and ensure that you won’t arrive home until way after the market’s closed. How about the very fact that the car breaks down for a few hours, forcing you into the undesired situation of traveling at night? Whatever the case, it’s almost worth the inconvenience sometimes just to see how a Mozambican driver manages to MacGuyver the engine into working with a hammer, some water, and some wire…

4) Cramped Space- Rows of seats in chapas fit three comfortably, but here in Moz we like to roll with four. It may be a little cramped, but hey, it’s another three to four people’s chapa money for the driver and his cobrador. Why not, right? In fact, let’s up the ante a little bit and add people on laps, people standing, people crouching, etc. There. Uncomfortable and unsafe. That’s the way we like our chapas.

It’s a beautiful thing indeed when a local chapa goes down the road with people’s backs and butts and arms pressed hard against the window. I swear, it’s an even better sight when the door opens, 10 people come out and the chapa still looks full.

3) Getting Ripped Off- There often seems to be two kinds of prices in Mozambique depending on where one goes: the price for Mozambicans and the price for foreigners; or Mulungos, as we’re called in this province. In chapas, the Mulungo rule (as I like to call it) applies moreso than in most places as cobradores (the guys who take the money) try to charge us 50 or even 100 over the usual price for a given trip.

Just the other day a cobrador tried to charge me 250 for a trip that should have been at most 200 meticais. I promptly called him out for lying to me, argued with him for a good ten minutes, and paid him his 200 meticais. If you’re struggling, then of course you can ask me politely and I will cheerfully oblige. But don’t you ever dare disrespect me, especially in front of a busload of people that also know the right price.

2) Crazy Driving- Chapa drivers notoriously are very bad drivers, swerving around and trying to pass people while going up hills and remaining unaware to the possibility of oncoming traffic. Meanwhile, PCV’s will swear that drivers are trying to hit people, which if you’ve read one of my older blogs you know that does indeed happen. And even if someone doesn’t get hit, there are so many close calls. I myself have gotten clipped by chapa mirrors a few different times and believe you me, it’s extremely infuriating.

Now imagine being on the inside of the car. PCV’s have another joke about how they like the front passenger seat since it’s the only spot in the car with so much room, but don’t always know if it’s worth the view of all of the chapa driver’s close calls. We almost hit somebody! Why are we trying to swerve through oncoming traffic?! Loook ouuttt!!!!! Honestly, sometimes it’s almost like they’d learned to drive in cooking school.

And finally…

Drumroll please… Thanks…

CYMBAL CRASH!!

1) Constant Stops/Waiting for the Chapa to Fill up- The thing about chapas is that they don’t run on time like buses do in the states. Everybody simply waits around until the car fills up, be it 30 minutes, 1 hour, 2 hours, or (gasp) a three-hour-wait! Then, when the car is finally filled up, if I’m not already frustrated about the long wait, our chapa driver has decided to stop every 5 seconds. ‘Welp, it looks like we can fit that family of 5 on the side of the road with their 20 bags. Let’s stop.’ ‘Yeah well my friend asked me to pick up his lumber which he strategically hid every 100 meters behind some trees.’ (Lol… that last one is a true story.). Please Senhor Chapa Driver, can you please not make this 45 minute trip take 2 hours?! Thanks…

Well, there you have it gang, the unfiltered truth about chapas. I hope you enjoyed it. We’ve shared some laughs, looked back on some dark moments, and hopefully learned something about ourselves, whatever that may be…

Random Tibdit #2: Things Happen... All the Time

2010-04-30T05:02:00.005-04:00

Back in December, even as I was counting down in the last week before my flight home to the States, I didn't completely believe that I would actually make it. I kept thinking about all the possible things that could go wrong: the chapa on the way to maputo breaks down, being late for the bus to Johannesburg, the plane having technical difficulties, or maybe the flight I was supposed to be on would just be cancelled for no reason.

I am sure that this sense of trying to prepare for the worst has come about only since I've come to Mozambique; and why not? As volunteers here know, and as the newer ones are finding out, things happen all of the time here. In fact, they're so frequent that my friend Anthony and I refer to them as 'Vamos vencer' moments, a play off the Mozambican national anthem which literally means 'we shall overcome.'

For example:

1)It took literally 6 weeks last year to find out from Barclay's Bank that I could not in fact transfer money from my account here to my account in the states to be able to pay online phone credit. This of course was after a visit everyweek, filling out paperwork, and waiting an average of an hour, hour and a half per visit. Va-mos vencer...

2)A normal 7-8 hour trip to or from Maputo has taken 10-11 hours because either the chapa driver wants to stop every few minutes to greet a friend, pick up beer, pack the chapa to insanely uncomfortable levels, the car broke down (a common one)and or simply because he feels like it. Va-mos vencer...

3)"Ok, winter is coming... and so we can't start this chicken project until we get electricity installed to make the coop heated. Of course, the guys who were supposed to come install the wires delayed their visit for three weeks and finally, when they did show up, I wasn't there to let them know I had already bought the pieces they needed. Now, I'm not sure when they'll come back... Hopefully soon though..." Va-mos vencer...

That's the way things roll on this side of the world. Transportation is often unreliable. Time is mostly irrelevant. Customer service is about as useful as the help page on facebook.

Now, the way I see it, there are few ways that the volunteer can adapt. She can go crazy and quit the Peace Corps. He can become extremely bitter and angry, maybe even take out his rage on locals and/or other volunteers. Or you can take option C: suck it up, assume that you can't assume anything will go right, and just hope for the best.

Ya know... I did end finding out that my flight to the states was cancelled... a month before, without anyone telling me. But at least I eventually made it home, right?

Looking Towards the Finish Line... and Beyond

2010-04-28T03:32:00.008-04:00

November 15, 2010

That's when my exit interviews begin to take place in the Peace Corps office in Maputo. Close of Service, as it's formally called, is the week of medical tests and questions about my life in Mozambique that proceeds my departure. They want to know how I measure up with my language abilities, how much I learned from my experience living and working in the Maxixe community, and most importantly... what exactly I accomplished during 26 months in country: Where did I fail? Where did I succeed? Do I have any suggestions that can help future volunteers? Then comes the inevitable end: 'Ok, thanks Vic. Have a safe trip home!'

Finding out about my COS date this past week hasn't exactly been jarring, despite my initial surprise at hearing about it so soon. I'm not afraid of disappointing myself or anyone else with what I've done thus far and I'm not afraid for the next stage... I'm actually extremely excited about everything. :) But it's still very much an important point in my life here, a time to think about how exactly I can do what I need to do before I leave.

I suppose when it comes down to it, my thoughts very closely reflect the way I felt back in my days at Canisius, making a final lap in a cross country race. I know the course very well by now... where to go and what strategy to take when I get to certain points. I know that pacing myself is beneficial, but that it's also time to pick it up and make sure that when I get to the finish line, I will have given it my all; mentally, emotionally and physically.

The digression from the running metaphor of course comes as I prepare for life after COS. I mean, I couldn't possibly imagine running a race and thinking, 'Hmm, I wonder what I'll do when I get home. And what am I going to do right now that will positively affect my life after I cross the finish line?" That's where I am at currently as I look forward to applying to law school, working when I get home, figuring out a place where I might live, and of course, marrying the love of my life.

I'm excited for the future, but I have to try and balance that with the present and all of the things I'm juggling. I want to focus on what I need to do in terms of preparing for post PC life and do it, but I also want to see the programs that I am working on thrive and succeed. It's a tricky balance, but one that I think I can pull off.

At this point I know I can fight the good fight. I know I will absolutely finish the race. And I will, no matter what happens, keep the same faith that has sustained me along the way. Just one more lap to go... and less than seven months to the finish line.

Random Tidbit #1: Cutting the Grass

2010-03-23T05:47:00.000-04:00

Rather than always writing long blogs about things that are going on, I thought it might be interesting to every so often write about something random about life here… just a way to give people back home more of an idea about the Mozambican side of things...

So without further ado, I present Random Tidbit #1:

When I first came to Mozambique, one of the coolest things I immediately noticed right off the bat was the way my host family cut grass. Apparently the way to go, as is true here in Maxixe as well, is to use something that looks like a cross between a dull sword and a golf club. Then using one hand, the person cutting the grass swings the ‘sword,’ only to have shooting bits of grass fly all over the place.

Of course, as useful as the sword putter (as I like to call it) can be, a katana sword is what one would use when it comes time to trim the bushes. Yes… a katana… a la Leonardo from Ninja Turtles or even Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. This little sword might not be wicked sharp, but it cuts through most whatever, including the occasional coconut treat!

In the end, I’m sure you can surmise that hacking at grass and bushes are most likely not as time saving and simple as say a lawn mower or a plug-in bush trimmer. But I can honestly tell you that whatever the case, it’s sure as heck way more fun… :)

A good week for secondary projects

2010-03-23T05:46:00.000-04:00

This past week I met with some success in working with both Sal do Mundo and Future Business Leaders. Some of you might recall that Sal do Mundo is the project that is run by a local Methodist Church which involves visiting and caring for orphans and vulnerable children. Meanwhile, Future Business Leaders is a project for which I serve as a National Coordinator. In its basic form, it’s an 8 week crash course that ends in 15,000Mt implementation prize for whichever group of students has the best developed business proposal.

Sal do Mundo

This past week, the leadership of Sal do Mundo and I started two very important activities together: First, I sat down with the treasurer to begin explaining double entry accounting (Of course, that in particular is an ongoing process/could not possibly be a onetime explanation type thing). Second, we had a rather successful two day training on HIV, AIDS, nutrition, and hygiene.

The training itself, like I said, wasn’t very long… just two days, but it sure had its share of material. On the first day we had some good ice breaker activities, but also talked topics related to HIV and AIDS. What are HIV and AIDS? Who do they affect? What are symptoms? What are ways to transmission? What are ways of prevention? For me, the most encouraging part was the next morning’s quick 30 minute review, in which the activists showed me how much they actually retained and even talked about some areas that had been helpful/ clarified things better for them.

The second day, we talked about nutrition and hygiene. What are some of the bad hygienic practices of kids today and how can we address them? There was also my favorite segment in which we discussed nutrient categories, what each nutrient does for our body, and why we should have a little of all of them in our diets. In the accompanying exercise we talked about how to get all of the nutrients in someone’s diet that doesn’t have the money. The responses were extremely practical and left me impressed.

At the end then, we did what we’d do in any other Mozambican training. We sang, we danced, and we offered up a prayer to God. It was a good week for Sal do Mundo.

Future Business Leaders (or FUEMO as the Portuguese acronym goes)

As I’m waiting for the FUEMO project proposal to go through, Pete (the other coordinator) and I have been anxiously awaiting ‘IST reconnect,’ in which the newest volunteers are all together for a Peace Corps training/ reflection about their first three months at site. Having already pitched the FUEMO program like crazy to all of the country’s 120 or so volunteers over the past few months, IST would be the time to actually gather interested PCV’s together and assess the direction of the year ahead.

Now, it’s worth mentioning that last year we had room in the budget for 15 volunteers to have FUEMO groups, while only 5 came through. This year we decided to take a risk and up it to 20, believing that we could absolutely achieve that number this year. And we more or less have. In fact, it appears that we might have a problem because too many PCV’s are interested and we didn’t include enough money in the budget for so many!

The reason I thought this was worth noting was because of the fact that I believe very much in FUEMO. Its objectives and goals, unlike many other projects in the same area, are clearly defined and measurable. In addition, no matter what, there will always be a new group of kids forming a business from every PCV’s group. If that’s the case, and we get 20 new businesses that we can support with information and our own personal guidance during the first few months of implementation, then the hope is that we’ll have these same groups continuing on even after volunteers have left. They will be earning money and providing for themselves using the skills that they picked up in our class. At the very least, we will have 25 students x’s 20 classes who have gone through the basics of business and have picked up various skills to use as they attempt to enter the professional world.
Now that’s something worth striving for.

Life with IRD

2010-03-23T05:45:00.000-04:00

Since August, I have very much enjoyed working with International Relief and Development. Their work throughout the province is both inspired and affective. The people who are involved, from Coordinator down to the activists in the field, are focused and passionate about what they do. Meanwhile, on my side of things, not only is the atmosphere encouraging, but it has also left much room for personal growth and learning.

Based in Washington, IRD opened up a branch here in the Inhambane province in 2006 to work in Home Based Care. Simply put, home based care involves activists going from house to house within various communities and acting as liaisons between the seriously ill (mostly HIV positive) and the local hospital or health clinic. Currently we work with ten partner organizations that we fund and train to do the work, helping them to recognize the difference between diseases as well as giving them basic information and caring methods to both practice and pass on to clients and their families.

This past month, despite the usual office busy-ness, we welcomed a visit from a consultant from the states to assess our work and that of our supported partner associations. Our consultant, Suzanne, and I traveled all over the province to visit our partners for two days each as we assessed their weaknesses as well as strengths through interviews and big group activities with the activists themselves.

Now, having been on the road so long I’m happy to say that I myself have an even better grasp than before of things that I as a Peace Corps Volunteer might be able to offer. Currently I am already planning on trying to develop some of our partners’ programs directed towards orphans and vulnerable children; and am also working with my counterpart to set up a new financial management system modeled after one provided to us by our consultant. While these are more things that go with my job description already, I am all the more encouraged on working with our partners one on one so that we can address some of the issues that came up during the consultancy.

More specifics coming up soon… :)

A Quick Pause for Reflection

2010-03-09T04:00:00.001-05:00

‘Everything seems different now.’

‘Where did the time go?’

‘She’s going to marry me!!’

‘I’m incredibly naïve to think that I can make a difference in the world.’

‘I’m missing my brother grow up.’

‘What is God ultimately calling me to do? To be?’

‘Am I doing enough as a Peace Corps Volunteer?’

‘Why in God’s name can’t I seem to get my act together here sometimes?!’

What is it about the Peace Corps that makes me feel so conflicted sometimes with these thoughts of happiness, sadness, anger, and so on? That makes me feel like I’m both a grown up trying to make his mark on the world and a helpless child at the same time?

Is it that I speak Portuguese with the vocabulary of a preteen and experience the frustration of failing to properly express myself time after time? Or maybe I’ve just been waiting for that project, that one program, that I start or help out with that will ultimately define my time here as a ‘success.’ I can’t be completely sure.

What I am sure about is that I have changed to a certain degree. How couldn’t I have? I’ve been forced to think in completely different ways that I am used to in the office and in the field. I have had my patience tested to my newly discovered breaking point by corrupt cops and merciless oncoming cars. And I’ve seen violence, uncensored and brutal violence, on what I consider to be too many occasions already. In summary, I have had some remarkable experiences.

Living in Mozambique over the past (my gosh!) 16 months, and going through these experiences has given me much to ponder and learn from. For one, America is truly a remarkable country. If the US were more like Mozambique, Scott Brown would have lost to Martha Coakley as members of the President’s party decided to throw out votes for the ‘good of the country.’ If we were Mozambicans almost everybody would be a Democrat because failing to support the governing party would threaten our very livelihoods. But the US is the US, and we are Americans living in an imperfect but vastly more beneficial system.

Then of course, I have witnessed repeatedly the power of one or two people to change the lives of many more. There are people like Pastor Lea in the Methodist Church who inspire a community to take care of their orphans out of the kindness of their hearts. Meanwhile, it was one man’s corruption that ensured that his former NGO lost funding and, in effect, that ten people lost there jobs in what is literally a near impossible job market.

I recall coming to Mozambique in October of ’08, thinking about how much I was going to do. I’m going to make a difference. I am going to change someone’s life. But what I never counted on was having the experience change me. I am the life that was changed.

Now, as I look forward to going home in merely 10 months, I am finding myself much busier and doing the stuff that I wanted to hit the ground running and do when I got here. I am meeting wonderful people and forming amazing relationships. Having said that, I can only hope that I manage to give back a fraction of what they have already given me.

Live Free or Stand-fast (or translated from nerd talk: Thoughts on Standfast and Mozambican National Elections)

2009-11-05T05:08:00.003-05:00

Standfast.

The word itself looks kind of interesting at first glance. I mean, think about it: You take something as boring as ‘stand,’ add an exciting word like ‘fast’ and a cool looking and sounding combination is what comes out of it… much like die-hard I would say.

But what does standfast mean? Does it imply that somebody has to stay on her feet without eating for days on end? Does it mean that somebody has to jump up from his seat really quickly? And why is it that this word is so capable of driving fear into the hearts of Peace Corps Volunteers everywhere, including Mozambique?

Well, to make matters clear; Standfast, for those of you who are not versed in Peace Corps lingo, is the third stage of PC’s security plan and it involves Volunteers staying in their community until danger, either real or forecasted, has passed. Not so exciting anymore, is it? I guess it depends on your perspective.

For the past three weeks, Peace Corps has had all of its volunteers on standfast because of the once every five year occurrence of national elections. Despite the extremely peaceful and relaxed comportment of Mozambicans in general, PC has had its share of fears about possibilities that might come up… especially as a newer party rapidly gains influence throughout the country. Thankfully, as standfast is now just ending, no such violence has been realized and put a volunteer in harm’s way, but it’s never a bad idea to be cautious.

Having said that, time during standfast for me has at the very least provided a very interesting outlook on Mozambican politics and the role of the campaign as I’ve experienced some of it firsthand. For instance, I’ve become more and more fascinated with the FRELIMO party, which controls all Moz political branches and most significant appointments. One thing is for sure, as I’ve passed through the city and have seen their endless rallies, I have been constantly struck by the popularity of the party itself, but also, by the silence of the other parties. Do other parties even exist? If so, don’t they know that its way past time to get up and campaign?

What’s interesting about the political demographics here is that down South especially, you’d be hard pressed to find anything other than FRELIMO support. FRELIMO posters cover telephone poles from top to bottom, chapas, walls, and so on. Meanwhile, RENAMO, which up until now has been the only ‘major competition,’ if you can call it that, have been mostly silent as residents of Maxixe still have vivid memories of RENAMO’s war crimes during the civil war years back. ‘E Frelimo e que fez, e frelimo e que faz…’ you hear everybody singing constantly: ‘It’s FRELIMO that got things done, it’s FRELIMO that continues to get things done.’ It’s FRELIMO who won independence from Portugal, it’s FRELIMO that is currently developing Mozambique.

But let us not forget that there’s the third party: MDM. MDM is a new political player that has roots in both FRELIMO and RENAMO and has gained serious momentum in the country from other FRELIMO dissidents following its creation in March. Despite this fact, it encountered a serious roadblock months back (along with cries of injustice from the international community) as FRELIMO prohibited MDM from registering candidates in 9 out of 13 provinces from Assembly. FRELIMO claims the proper documentation was not handed in on time, while MDM is crying ‘corruption’ and ‘foul play.’ Whatever the case, the US ambassador recently commented in response to the situation on how the point of a democracy is to include as many choices as possible, rather than to limit them.

Despite all this drama, I’m sitting here during standfast having already spent numerous hours reading, studying Portuguese, and listening to people talk about politics and development. I do not believe that having one party dominate politics is a democracy, but I have also wondered what might happen if FRELIMO fell to another party. What would happen if a party like FRELIMO lost to another like RENAMO or MDM, who have no experience, and some would argue ‘capabilities,’ to govern a country? Would Mozambique lose all of the progress that it has made in the past few decades? Or are these very politics of fear and entitlement holding the country back for choosing another, possibly better way?

I suppose that’s not my place to decide, is it?

A Brief Rundown on a Traditional Wedding

2009-11-04T02:02:00.000-05:00

Not too long ago, my friends Nick, Anne, and I attended a traditional ‘Mozambican wedding’ for our buddy Shaun and his girlfriend Epifânia.

Now, before I go any further, let me just explain that I qualify the words ‘Mozambican’ and ‘wedding’ for two reasons: First, while Epifânia is indeed a Mozambican woman, her fiancée Shaun is an American, ex-Peace Corps Volunteer from Boston. Second, the ceremony that took place was not a wedding in the sense that it used to be back twenty or thirty years back. No, it was a ring ceremony; a way for Shaun to ask permission from Epifânia’s family for her hand in marriage, in exchange for requested goods, in accordance with local tradition.

When we arrived at the house of Epifânia’s family; Nick, Anne, and I found Shaun waiting in the living room with a few friends. As he explained to us, he pulled up to the house and was met by Epifânia’s aunts singing as they processed towards the car. One of the aunt’s put a sheet over his head, picked him up (and Shaun’s a taller guy mind you), put him on her back, and carried him to the spot where we found him.

When we asked Shaun what was supposed to happen afterwards, he told us that he had to wait until the family called so they could put a sheet over his head again, lead him to the bathing bucket and have him wash up before he put on his suit for the ceremony. Apparently he was supposed to not use all of the water and then leave some money by the tub when he finished.

As we waited for Shaun to finish his bath then, I asked a friend from the University what these traditions were about. Why the sheets and the separation from everything? And interestingly enough, neither he nor anyone else I asked seemed to know what the reasons were. It’s still shrouded in mystery to this day…

Finally, Shaun and Epifânia came out and sat in chairs across from her entire family with nothing between them except an esteira (straw-ish) mat laid out on the ground and a suitcase on top. As the ceremony continued, a woman opened the suitcase and took out all of the gifts that Shaun had brought. She would say something in Xitswa and then Shaun and Epifânia would walk on their knees with the items in hand to give to the father, mother, aunts, grandmother, etc; who would in turn impart words of wisdom or a blessing on the couple. Then Shaun and Epifânia would walk on their knees back to their chairs until the next gift was ready to present.

Flash forward past the delicious food and the party chit-chat, and we arrive at what was, in my opinion, one of the best parts of the party. As Nick Anne and I stood watching, guests moved down the row towards the couple in song and dance to give them their presents. ‘No Joao, you can’t just leave presents on a table and wait for the thank you card in the mail 3 weeks later, you need to bring your present to the couple while singing and dancing… I hope you brought your dancing shoes…’ Needless to say, Nick, Anne, and I had an awesome time dancing our card up to Shaun and Epifânia as the women around us sang songs and clapped.

After that, they had a local dance group get up on the dance floor and bust a move as everyone sat down kind of tired from the gift giving. ‘But no… we must dance more!’ Everyone seemed to say as they got up anyways. A bunch of booty-shaking songs later, I found myself in a dance off with some members of the dance troupe. I’d like to claim a moral victory on that one, but am glad it wasn’t caught on video… :)

Yeah, but that was it… Seven hours of awesomeness that honestly felt like two and enough dancing that Nick and I even decided by the end that our own weddings would be much better off if they were more like Shaun’s. Here’s hoping wedding number three of the season comes sooner than later…

Domestic Violence in Mozambique

2009-10-29T06:54:00.000-04:00

There it was again. That shriek was really loud this time, too loud to have been children playing around and wrestling as they always did. And what would kids be doing out so late anyway?

I looked at Anthony, who was staying over for the night, and we instinctively got off the couch at the same time to go outside and see if we could hear it again.

The scream was bloodcurdling.

While Anthony stood in my sandy yard, I went to pause the movie we were watching, and then walked out with him to the dirt road outside my neighbor’s fence. When we finally slipped out the back fence door we were met with a crowd of my neighbors watching something that was too dark to pick out.

I turned to one woman and asked, “What’s going on?,” as my eyes adjusted a little and I saw what looked like somebody on the ground holding another person. Did somebody pass out or something? I wondered.

When she didn’t reply, I asked again and she finally said, almost at a whisper, “He’s killing her… he’s killing her.”

As she said that, my eyes fully adjusted to the darkness and I could see very clearly a man and a woman on the ground struggling and exchanging fists. The group of ten to fifteen people who had gathered had been standing around and watching the entire time. And from that point on, the rest was slow motion.

The man got up and started kicking the woman in the side, shouting in Xitswa, and she in turn cursed at him in between blows. Without really thinking I moved to pull the man away, noticing how he reeked of alcohol, while Anthony helped up the woman.

The next ten minutes was a repetitive dance… the woman comes charging, we pull them away; the man comes charging, we pull them away; repeat two or three times. On the very last time that the woman charged, her ferocity was enough that she broke Anthony’s grasp and tackled the man to the ground.

“She’s biting him!” I heard Anthony shout as more people than before came to try and separate the two.

And indeed she was. We had a hard time trying to pull them apart since doing so could only make it worse for the man, as the woman bit down hard, but they finally got up and Anthony and I went back to restraining them.

Then all of a sudden, as quickly as it’d started, the ferocity stopped. The fires in their eyes went out and everyone just stood there. The woman’s bruised eyes were finally visible. Meanwhile, the raw flesh on the man, which obviously had to be the bite marks, was in plain sight on his ears, arms, and upper body. Anthony and I couldn’t bring ourselves to say anything at all.

Finally, they walked their separate ways as the man said something clearly in Portuguese, rather than in Xitswa as they’d been speaking the entire time. “I’m going to kill myself! I am! I’m going to do it!”

With that, the neighbors went away one by one and Anthony and I walked back to my yard where the lights finally revealed stains of the man’s blood all over my clothes. I really thought I was going to throw up…

It’s one thing to read about domestic violence and to hear about its common occurrence, but as I learned recently, it’s a completely different thing to witness firsthand. Reading about it, one can only imagine what it looks like, maybe pasting different scenes from movies together or thinking about that one, awkward fight you saw when you were in 6th grade. But the reality is very fast, very brutal, and very unnerving.

In talking to various Mozambican friends since, I have been surprised to see what I believe to be hatred towards domestic violence, but also an unnerving acceptance of its reality. “Of course, Vic, that sort of thing happens here all the time… that’s just how it is.’

Having lived in this country for merely thirteen months, I know I can’t hope to understand many things… maybe even most things about Mozambique’s cultures and ways of life. But I do believe that domestic violence has very much to do with traditional views of woman as property and recognize that these very views themselves continue to die hard.

Not too long ago, I attended a ‘ring ceremony,’ which for all intents and purposes is a traditional Mozambican wedding. It was beautiful, it was extremely fun, but it was also interesting to note how closely it resembled an exchange of goods. Whether or not the couple in question views it that way, or even the family for that matter, the custom is in fact for the man to present a series of expensive gifts ‘in exchange’ for the hand of the family’s daughter in marriage. Meanwhile, the entire ceremony itself is sealed with a ring on her finger so that everyone knows that she ‘belongs to’ only her husband.

Here in Maxixe at least, I have noticed even more blatant examples of gender inequality in simply observing daily life. Men bring home the money and food, while women stay at home to cook and take care of the kids. Everyday I see numbers of men at the bars in the middle of the day, more so on the weekend obviously, while I pass by scores of households with women crushing matapa leaves in dinner preparation and children playing around them.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I understand that many people hold religious beliefs concerning the man being the head of the household, with the woman being more the co-pilot of the family as she ultimately bends to the whim of her husband. I respect that view. I don’t agree with it at all, but I respect it just the same.

That said, even with religious ideas in the mix, surely we can all agree on one thing. No matter who you are: man, woman, American, or Mozambican; domestic violence is simply unacceptable. Not only is it harmful for the victim, but it represents an ultimate low for the victimizer, man or woman, who has to resort to violence to get what he or she wants, which is power in this case.

Having stated what for many is the obvious, this leaves us at the unavoidable question: what can we do about it?

As I’ve said, tradition dies hard, especially here in Mozambique. At the very least though, one can look to and point out the certain changes that have resulted through development and interaction with the West such as a slow decrease in the practice of polygamy in the strict definition as well as the presence of women in important community and business leadership positions. Nowadays, more women have an increasingly defined power that needs no violence to assert.

So what does reality in Mozambique say about prospects for change in the future? Well, these changes, though slight and not necessarily universal by any means, highlight the importance of education and development to fighting violence and ignorance. Try as we may to have programs directed at alleviating the causes and effects of domestic violence, the biggest factor to play a role in its ultimate undoing will be time. The rest, I feel, is up to the culture in question.

Remarks on Entitlement in Mozambique’s Education System

2009-09-10T05:17:00.001-04:00

Before I started teaching at the local University about a month ago, I remember looking forward to my first day with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. While I myself am a health volunteer and therefore hadn’t had much experience in the Mozambican classroom, I had previously heard the horror stories from the education volunteers about the school system in this country: the rampant corruption, cheating, endless amounts of red tape within the administration, and so on.

You can imagine how relieved I was when, because of Sagrada Familia’s make-up and leadership, I had few run-ins with these kinds of morally objectionable situations that my colleagues have often discussed. At the same time, that is not to deny the fact that I have indeed had my ‘run-ins.’

The fact of the matter is that grade inflation is a problem. I’m not claiming that it is a frequent issue at the University, but I can say that many of my students have most definitely come from a background in which they are rewarded for what they frankly do not deserve. Of course, to speak from a cynical point of view, the situation makes more sense when the focus is on what’s at stake for the school. ‘The system is weak and the professors are poorly educated? Well, let’s compensate with boosting grades around the board.’ ‘If we’re turning out classrooms of kids with poor marks, then our school is ultimately going to look bad, right? Maybe if we just give them enough points they can pass on to the next grade and we can try again.’ Instead of fixing the problem at hand, it seems that the situation is merely given a band-aid.

As has been evidenced by my own classroom, the effects of such an education system can be crippling to the work ethic and general mindset of the students as individuals and as a body. Rather than the school being a place to challenge oneself to work hard and to learn, it becomes for many something resembling a prison: ‘Just put in the time and eventually you can get out and move on with your life.’ Education is not respected or celebrated, and therefore it ultimately fails.

Now, with my own class I have encountered these challenges with a few of my students, where its obvious that grades are more important than the material and I as the teacher am expected to be very ‘generous’ with my policies and grading procedures. My response, which has been working thus far, has been to keep putting the focus on them. “You were sick the day before the quiz? Well, you knew about it and it’s your responsibility to get the notes.” “You want to blame me for your bad quiz grades, but you have not come for help at all since class began in July.” You are ultimately responsible for your own education.

In these ways aforementioned, amongst others, I am trying to accomplish a few things. I am very focused on demonstrating responsibility to my students, but also am attempting to push an improved work ethic. I promise I do not get my jollies from failing large chunks of my students or taking off points from their average because of excessive absences and tardiness. Rather, I truly hope that they can learn something valuable from my class outside of the actual material and that they can take some of those life lessons with them in their future endeavors. I hope that when they graduate from this teacher trainer college that they take these ideas and use them in their own classrooms. Since the openness to learn brings about knowledge and knowledge is indeed power, I ultimately (and possibly naively) hope that this desire becomes contagious.

Dealing With Death in Mozambique

2009-09-10T05:13:00.001-04:00

Since arriving in Mozambique, I have on numerous occasions felt angry and frustrated in the face of such a different culture. One day I might get mad at a Mozambican for bluntly telling me that my Portuguese needs work. Another day I stand at the counter of the bank for the 5th time in 2 weeks, waiting to find out whether I can finally begin to go through the process of requesting a bank transfer. Then, of course, there was the one day a few weeks ago that made all others pale in comparison.

Without wanting to go into too much detail, two Mondays ago, as I was heading down to Maputo with my friend Chelsea, our chapa ran over and killed a young, preteen boy crossing the street in downtown Xai Xai. Besides the initial shock and the obvious fact that both Chelsea and I were pretty upset, I became extremely angry as I further assessed the entire scene.

Looking around I saw faces unmoved, dry eyes, and even heard people complain about the travel delay. I saw people going about their business selling phone credit while others gathered around to see the young lifeless body still resting in a puddle by the side of the road. I saw a side of this culture that has been tough to swallow as a person growing up in my own.

In the weeks following, I have had a few conversations with Mozambicans and Americans alike as I’ve tried to make sense of what I witnessed. Why didn’t that boy’s death seem to affect anyone besides myself and Chelsea? Have Mozambicans experienced death so much as to remain numb to its emotional effects? Why didn’t I see any kind of sympathy in the eyes of the driver?

Having taken into consideration my conversations with Mozambicans, I have seen a different perspective of death than I am used to. Sure, not reacting may be an emotional defense mechanism, but in a lot of cases it appears to be that sympathy simply does not extend outside of situations involving family and friends.

If it is true, that Mozambicans simply do not care for others outside of their family and friends, what does this say, if anything, about Mozambican culture itself? Could it be that while this is true, it is an indirect result of dealing with death all of the time? Or is the culture simply sinister, as American upbringing might tempt us to believe? Having reflected upon these questions for awhile now, I’ve realized that I cannot hope to answer the first two adequately and that the third question itself is simply leading to an unfair conclusion.

To say that a culture is sinister in the manner which is presented, is to effectively dehumanize the people that make it up. But I must, at this point, protest such a crude assumption since it’s obvious that Mozambicans love and are loved. Rather, the point of contention is why there is a tendency to not care as much for strangers or people outside of one’s closest friends and family. Then again, why do we care about what happens to people who we do not know?

In America, like Mozambique, our view of death is not universal, but can be the reality for many. That having been said, as is often the case back home, sympathy does not occur unless there is an association made with the person who is dead or suffering. ‘Oh my goodness, that boy on the news is the same age as my son.’ ‘That woman in the hospital looked like my Aunt Jill.’ And so on.

So what does it all mean? Mozambicans sympathize for friends and family. Americans sympathize for friends, family, and people the remind them of friends and family. Is the American way right or are we just deceiving ourselves to the point that we have to trick ourselves into caring?

I guess in the end I don’t know for sure how to answer any of these questions. I’m still in the midst of processing things and trying to understand where people are coming from. Whatever the case, my inner thoughts aside, please pray for the family of that boy, that they find comfort and peace in such a difficult time. . .

Sal do Mundo

2009-09-10T04:25:00.001-04:00

Looking back, one of my biggest disappointments in PC Moz has been my own failure to get the proposed orphan mentoring project off the ground. While I can at least find partial solace in the fact that I tried my hardest, this still does little for a person who was both unhappy with his primary job and was having lingering doubts about being here in the first place. For that reason especially, I was more than elated when I stumbled across a project that went above and beyond what I had imagined and, more importantly, that needed some outside help.

Sal do Mundo (or Salt of the Earth; see Matthew 5) is a project run by the Methodist Church in Chicuque, a town right next to Maxixe, and provide many necessary services for local orphans and vulnerable children. Not only did Sal do Mundo provide food for 200 children and their poor adoptive families, but they also gave uniforms and materials for school, gave money for healthcare, and offered health and hygiene classes. If that weren’t enough, according to Guambe, the Pastor’s husband and the man in charge of the project, there were hopes to start sewing and carpentry classes for the kids to pick up some basic marketable skills.

Over the past few months then, Sal do Mundo has had to adapt to having depleted funds, which as you can imagine, had a rather difficult effect on most of the aspects of the program. What’s inspiring, however, is how despite not having money to get paid the activists still go to visit the families in order to at least make sure things are going alright. In fact, they have reportedly been going so far as to pay for treatment out of their own pockets when the children are sick.

My hope, then, having seen what they have already done and what they are capable of doing is to help resurrect various aspects of Sal do Mundo. As a Peace Corps volunteer, I have access to a variety of grants that cannot cover all of the expenses of the project, but can at least support small portions. I’m also attempting to assert the value of having health classes again, while trying to focus on the developmental aspect of the program so that the focus is on projects that will not run continual costs, but will see some concrete, permanent effects in the community.

Thus far, we are in the early stages of reviving Sal do Mundo, Guambe has already asked me to check on the viability of bringing back the food distribution and healthcare aspect as well as the possibility of starting up sewing classes. While I await confirmation from Peace Corps, I am also looking to help in any way without being invasive and hurting something that has already been running so well.

In the meantime, all I can do is to wait, but I remain encouraged that the wheels are indeed in motion. Here’s praying that we can get to that point sooner than later though and that (if I can make a bad pun) the salt does not ‘lose its taste.’

Bug Problems

2009-07-27T04:44:00.000-04:00

‘Oh gosh… I hope she comes back soon. I’m totally gonna be late for work.’ I thought to myself as I sat on my doorstep waiting for my empregada, Raquia. ‘What exactly did she say she was getting again?’

Originally, I never wanted an empregada. I thought it was a horrific idea to hire someone to cook and clean for me when I could just do all that myself. And when I thought about it in terms of a person from a wealthy country coming to a less developed country and hiring a ‘servant’… well… No way, Jose.

Well, long story short, I ‘inherited’ Raquia from the volunteer who lived here before me, meaning that essentially not having her work for me would be firing her and cutting off her main source of income. So I decided that it wouldn’t be so bad as long as I had her on a light schedule, coming in three times a week to draw my water, sweep my yard, and do my dishes only. Of course, I didn’t really realize at the time that empregadas can come in handy for other things as well, like extracting bugs from places on your feet that you can’t reach for instance…

I waited for probably five minutes on my stoop with my pant legs rolled up as I examined the bottom of my feet once again. Just a few days before, I had to cut open the callus looking bumps on two of the toes on my left foot in order to get the maticenhas’ eggsack out. What’s a maticenha? Well, it’s basically a small bug that likes to burrow under the toe nails, and apparently under the ridge of feet as well, so it can lay and store its eggs. It lives in the sand, is more common in the winter time, and it was apparently in both of my feet this time around.

As I studied the small black holes in the same place on both of my feet, Raquia finally came back.

“Ok, I found some, Menino.” She said as she held out her hand to reveal… crab claws. Yes, the claws of a crab… in her hands… to be used as tweezers in extracting this garbage from my foot.

“Umm… where… where did you get them?” I said trying to sound casual and hide my hesitancy.

“Oh, one of your neighbors had them left over from dinner.” She said as she grabbed my left foot with one hand and held the crab claws in the other.

‘Whatever,’ I thought, ‘At this point… let’s just do this already…’

As she broke through my skin and tugged at the eggsack, it definitely hit a nerve or two. ‘Gosh, could that crap actually be attached to something in my foot? Or is it just floating around?’ Well, whatever the case, Raquia pulled out everything from my left foot rather quickly. Then, she held it up for me to see: a black, charcoal looking thing about the size of the tip of a ballpoint pen.

“Is that it?” I asked Raquia.

“Yeah… well, at least I hope so.” she said as she grabbed my right foot.

More sharp, momentary pain. More clicking sounds as she clawed through my foot.

A few minutes later, she pulled out the other egggsack. This one was wayyy more disgusting: it was about the size of one fourth of a dime and its texture resembled that of a slug or a snail.

“Good Lord!” I myself exclaim in Portuguese. “Well… thank you Raquia…”

She just smiled and said, “Your welcome… I do think I’m going to keep these crab claws somewhere though because Menino seems to always have problems with maticenhas…”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh I hope that’s not true!”

Estou a Pedir

2009-07-27T04:43:00.001-04:00

‘Estou a pedir,’ which means ‘I am asking for,’ is a very commonly used phrase in Mozambican Portuguese when making a request:

‘I am asking for’ the half chicken with rice at a local restaurant. ‘I am asking for’ help with my homework in school. ‘I am asking for’ (oh no, here it comes!)… ‘I am asking for’ money. . .

For the Peace Corps volunteer, getting pedir-ed (as we call it) is a common occurrence and a moral dilemma at that, as it makes us ask the obvious question: how should we respond? Should we give some money to the person and thereby cement our image as ‘foreign money bags?’ Or should we ignore the person and pass them on, as no doubt hundreds of people have done already? Some choose to give every time, some choose to give sometimes, some choose to just look the other way and keep going; but what should I do?

Obviously, there is no easy way to confront something like giving money out to people, but I would like to share my own experience and evolving thoughts on the issue, by starting with a story:

On a beautiful summer day in February I was walking to the Central Market on the other side of town, hoping that I would finally find eggplants after having been disappointed for a few days running. As usual, the streets were bustling with cars and people going about their daily routine: an empty chapa driving to the chapa stop at an ungodly speed, a few people moving drinks or chickens on carts, children selling plastic bags to people exiting the shops. Just another day in Maxixe.

So I walked on to the front of the Market entrance and noticed all of a sudden this old woman about to pass me to go back out to the street. Like most old women I’ve encountered here, she wore a capellana skirt (a giant beach towel sized fabric with designs), a shirt, and a smaller version of the same capellana wrapped and tied on her head. She was also inching by very slowly as she leaned most of her body weight on her small wooden cane.

Suddenly, the woman looked up at me and saw me watching her pass me by. At that point what could I do but smile and say ‘Boa Tarde?’ (It’s always kind of awkward to get caught people watching, ya know). Then, instead of echoing my greeting like I expected, she dropped her cane, very obviously balancing to stand up straight at that point, and stuck her hand out to beg for money.

I didn’t know what to do. I mean at least in the States I could go buy the person a sandwich instead of giving out change, but how could I respond in that situation? Well, I’ll tell you what I did do: I said, “I’m sorry” in Portuguese, backed away, and left the Market, as I saw out of the corner of my eye the old woman struggle to reach to the ground and pick up here cane once more. I left her alone.

Looking back, I can say, without meaning to excuse myself, that I reacted to that woman not out of indifference or hatred, but out of fear. Fear kept me from looking at the situation for what it was and reacting in a way that would have been more appropriate, more loving, and more respectful. And its fear, I think, that in turn holds us back in a lot of ways, but especially in dealing with those who do not have as much as we do.

‘Giving money to someone pedir-ing only cements my image as someone with plenty of money to spare and that’s simply not true’… ‘They’ll definitely be back for more’… ‘I’m only furthering a system of dependency’… The reasons can go on and on.

Here’s the thing about these reasons both expressed and not: often times, they are absolutely true. White people (aka mulungos), or just people with lighter skin tone than a black Mozambican, will be seen as a source of money because we do have it in amounts significantly greater than most people in this country. People will come back asking for more money when they run out. And the dependency exists whether we like it or not. Some of the most well meaning US programs or funds, for example, from the international ones like PEPFAR and USAID to the national ones like welfare have and will continue to create a sense of entitlement and a dependency on the part of many on the receiving end. Here in Mozambique actually, foreign aid (mostly US) makes up for about half of the government’s money and serves to support thousands of Non Government health Organizations, whether they are using the money wisely or not.

What should our response be then? Well, based on my experiences, I have come to believe that it is a mistake to link people at the individual level to the problems of a group as a whole. This country may be dependent on the United States and other countries to survive, but what does that mean for this individual in front of me? Wouldn’t a better way to address the larger problems be to talk to my Federal representatives about coming up with ways to hold receiving nations accountable? To make sure that they give time as well as money in order to make sure that those receiving aid are taking steps to not need it anymore? That was my mistake.

Back in February, by allowing my instinctual fear of feeding an already existing mess of problems in a larger sense, I failed to recognize the situation of that woman who was standing right next to me. I didn’t have to give her money, but I could have showed her the respect that she deserves by looking her in the eye, by helping her pick up her cane, by even just asking her name and trying to make a new friend. I could have loved her.

Future Business Leaders of Mozambique Part Two

2009-06-23T09:09:00.000-04:00

“…So you need to attract the attention of people with something…special… because they’re most likely not going to stop to read your entire advertisement. People have lives to live, places to be…”

Crimildo, my Mozambican counterpart for FBLM, paused and quickly imitated almost perfectly the way I had walked past the chalkboard earlier as I explained the same concept. Hurried step: Check. Look of indifference on his face: Check. Based on the way he’s moving he might almost be confused for a New Yorker …

“You need colors…you need logos… you need slogans.” he said clapping his hands together every time he emphasized a word.

We let the room sit in silent thought for a minute as I looked at the students’ faces. They were still missing something.

“Ok,” I began in attempt to help him out. “Crimildo is right, you do need all those things. But the question is… why?”

Silence.

I turned around and got a picture from my bag of a Coca-Cola symbol. I had the kids identify it and talk for a while about what it meant to them. . .

“Right!” I said in response to one student. “So you see this emblem and you think a cold beverage that is relatively inexpensive. Ok, good! But what else has people coming back again and again to buy Coke besides this information…?”

By then my adrenaline was going as I paced up and down the room.

“It’s familiarity!” I answered with a smile. “It’s comfort in buying what they know!” Yes! Heads are nodding.

“If we have a good slogan, a good logo, and maybe some unique, identifying colors; we are going to make our product memorable… And if its in people’s minds then they will choose that product over the competition because… it’s familiar to them… it makes them feel safe.”

I looked at my watch: 19:25. Almost time to go…

“Ok students… any questions?”

I love teaching this class! I mean ‘Future Business Leaders of Mozambique’ (as I explained in an earlier blog) sounded like a good idea in theory and is now turning out better than I’d expected. Projects proposals are strong for the most part as the kids are both working their tails off and having a little fun at the same time. Of course, they should be working hard… they know there’s 15000 Mt on the line to be awarded to the group with the best project proposal.

In all seriousness, whoever designed this project a few years back really planned it well for all the kids, whether they win or not. Accountability, creativity, public speaking, deadlines, planning and budgeting, resume writing, professionalism in general, etc… are practiced and/or touched upon as the course progresses. And while this is great from our own viewpoint in the States, it takes on an even greater significance in a society where these skills can be less commonly taught and practiced.

Budgeting, for instance, while utilized more in bigger businesses, is a foreign concept for many street vendors. “Why keep track of money,” someone might think “when it doesn’t change whether or not I’m selling my tomatoes?” Then in class, the students come to learn that budgeting keeps money organized so they can keep track of it more easily, helps them plan the future of their business, and also lets them quantify mistakes and changes in the market, then learn from them.

Creativity is another concept that, while obviously present in society, is not often used in local business. Joao P. Mozambican might say, “Well I’m going to sell tomatoes because I know people will buy them.” To that the students come to decide that, yes, tomatoes are heavily utilized in this part of the world, but it doesn’t make sense to be selling a product that literally every other stand in the market place has. Tomatoes will make money, but they cannot guarantee a stable business in this environment.

It has been great to see that the students are responding to these different lesson plans and applying the knowledge in the updated business proposals they present to me each week. But it’s also been awesome to sit back and let these kids shine. On Saturdays I have a few students who are normally the shier types standing up in front of the room to defend their project against everyone else’s skepticism. Then on Wednesdays, the students in general blow me away with their intelligence and attention to detail through all the contributions they make in the classroom. It really doesn’t get better than that.

Three weeks remain now until the big competition and I have my theories who the winners are going to be (even though I don’t get to choose them). That said, I also feel very confident that no matter what happens, every group is going to come out having learned something great that they will be able to apply elsewhere, even if its just how to build their resume. Whatever the case, however big or small the lesson they bring with them, I think this class has been very much worth teaching and I look forward to doing it all again in the future.

Looking Ahead?!

2009-06-23T09:08:00.000-04:00

Hold on to your hats, folks, and try not to fall off of your seats! This just in from the lush tropics of Mozambique:

I, Victor J. Perez, have officially started thinking about life after Peace Corps!
(Hint- This is the part where you fall over in a state of total shock and disbelief…)

As some of you may already know, while others of you are now correctly guessing, I’m usually not one to plan very far in advance. I enjoy living in the moment, I love doing things last minute, and I have this sick passion for pressure. So when you take those things and put them together, you find me in situations like in October of 2007, starting and finishing my entire, rather lengthy Peace Corps application in the week before it was due. Granted, it may not be the best way of approaching things, but it hasn’t failed me yet (knock on wood).

‘So, what’s changed?,’ you might ask. Well, I guess it comes down to the fact that I am hopefully about to realize one of my older pipedreams: I have been asked by the University of Sagrada Familia here in Maxixe to volunteer and teach a course in Theology. That’s right, I’ll be teaching an introductory course on the Bible (in English) starting next month and, yes, I am extremely excited!

To be honest, I’m feeling lots of things right now as result of the news: excitement at the possibility of volunteering at the University, fear that I won’t have what it takes, but also the surprising reaction of anticipation for the general road ahead. Now I’m thinking things like, ‘Teaching both the business course and English have been fun, and I’m sure I’ll love teaching the Gospels; but can I see myself continuing in that arena?’ Maybe it’s too early to tell, but thus far the world of academics, while engaging and intellectually satisfying, does not seem to be the place for me. Meanwhile, even though I have for now shied away from the possibility of life as a scholar, this in no way answers the question: what am I going to do?

In response, I have found myself in the early stages of good, old fashioned Fr. Himes style discernment: What brings me joy? Well I love teaching business class, not necessarily because of the teaching, but because of the results I see… young, more confident professionals with an opportunity to develop a solid business within their community. Also, I love reading US history, but not more than I have come to love reading political speeches as well as about current events in Washington. Finally, I love my God and I enjoy working with youth, so perhaps this could bring me down the road of non-ordained pastoral ministry. Who knows?

The answers I have settled myself with are going to involve a lot of research/ testing things out in my head, as well as tons of prayer. There are many things I love doing and many roles I enjoy fulfilling, but can I see them going somewhere in the long run? Am I good at doing these things? Most importantly, how can I use the gifts that God gave me to do God’s will?

As you can tell, I’ve found myself with more questions than answers, but I’m very much ok with that. I mean, c’mon, I have all the time in the world, right? What is it… a year? Two years? At the very least I can feel secure in the fact that I’ve started asking the right questions. And even if I’m not figuring things out right away, this feels like the best place to be right here and right now.

Another Day In Paradise

2009-05-19T09:26:00.001-04:00

“1... 2... 3... Go!”

Holding both my goggles and my mouthpiece in place, I let the weight of my air tank pull me backwards off the side of the boat into the clear, blue water. It was almost a perfect fall in my view, until I accidentally kicked the person to my right with a flipper. ‘Gosh, every single time!’

SPLASH! Bubbles and refracted sunlight together worked to blur my vision, but with my BCD vest slightly inflated with air I felt myself being moved into the direction I figured must be up. Accordingly, I gave a slight kick to help my ascent and within moments broke through the surface.

When I felt the slight breeze on my face, I immediately started to look around, ignoring the beautiful blue sky and the white powdery beach in the background. Before anything else I had to find Leah and Mariano, our SCUBA instructor, amongst the group of about a dozen other divers who for the most part had already made it to the top themselves.

Moments later, I spotted them next to a cluster of others, waiting by the descending rope. The rope itself, which was anchored with weights, is normally for beginners to pull themselves down to the ocean floor, so with that being Leah’s and my fourth and last dive, we were expected to go down without using it.

I reached Leah and Mariano in no time and he began to explain what exercises we would have to do underwater before we would finally be certified. It wouldn’t take that long though, he explained, and we would shortly thereafter be able to explore the bottom.

“Sew, that’s a what we are gunna dew today.” He said in his Argentinean accent.

“Any questions?”

Leah and I shook are heads and said ‘no’ at the same time.

“Ok, kewl. Then deflate your BCD’s and let’s gew.”

Mouthpieces in and working just fine, we held up the air release valve connected to our BCD vests and pressed the button to let the air out as we descended into the Indian Ocean. All of a sudden as my face went below the surface, the sounds of the beach were replaced by the sound of my breathing and the slight background noise of others doing the same.

Keshhhhh Foooooooooooooo. Keshhhh Foooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.

Looking up I saw that I was only a few feet underwater, so I had to slow down my breathing rate. The longer I exhaled, the less would be in my lungs and the faster I would descend.

As I inched closer and closer to the sandy bottom, I looked to my side and saw Leah with her hair sticking up in the water doing the same. Plugging my nose, I equalized the pressure in my ears by blowing through my nostrils and continued to descend as I began to see the shadows of fish swimming nearby.

‘Just another day on our vacation…’

After four draining days of quizzes, homework, informational videos, and underwater practice, Leah and I finally got SCUBA certified. It was definitely a lot of work, but we had an absolute blast! All the colorful fish and corral we encountered and even just staying by the beach and enjoying the beautiful sunsets made everything worth it. Not to mention the fact that I was just blown away by all the cool skills we learned for moving around and exploring underwater. It was truly an amazing experience.

The vacation as whole, as a matter of fact, was just one big, awesome adventure. We got to wander the streets of Maputo (the capital) and enjoy Thai food, pizza and ice cream, attend Mass at the Cathedral, and just enjoy the change of setting (for her more than me) in a big city that is right next to the ocean. We rented a beach house in Xai-Xai with my friend Anthony and his girlfriend, who was visiting as well, and enjoyed making dinner and goofing off as we could hear the waves crashing in the background. Then I brought her to Maxixe and showed her my home, introduced her to some of my friends and of course my adventurous dog, Indy. :) After that, as mentioned, was our four days of diving at Barra, which was followed by a trip over to Kruger National Park in South Africa.

For those of you unfamiliar with Kruger, it is basically a giant reserve (about the size of Israel) that is home to all sorts of wild animals and plants to see. In riding around Kruger for two days, we managed to see Lion, Buffalo, Elephant, Zebra, Giraffe, Rhinos, Hippos, Eagles, Monkeys, Impala, etc… and all of them except Hippos were within10 feet of us!

As a matter of fact, there was one point that Leah and I stopped and saw an elephant eating leaves in the bushes by the side of the road. After a few minutes, we turned around and saw around 10 of them, including babies, walking together across the street behind our car. It was absolutely breathtaking. (Don’t worry… pictures to come soon :))

Aside from that, outside of scheduled events Leah and I have just enjoyed catching up on time spent together in general. Regardless of setting and whatever adventure we were on at the moment, we constantly found time for many of our favorite pastimes like cooking dinner, enjoying good food and drink, walking around, watching some of ‘the Office,’ and just hanging out and goofing off. After almost 10 months since I had last seen her, we just slipped back into life as usual and enjoyed a wonderful time together.

At this point I’d have to say that my only complaint is how quickly my time with Leah went by. One minute I’m waiting for her at the airport for what felt like forever and another I’m getting ready to drop her off and say goodbye once again. At the very least, however, being back here it has been nice to feel refreshed and have some of that energy for work/ the new business project. And seriously, by now, after 10 months; another 7-8 until the next time doesn’t sound quite so tough.

“Peace Corps Experience”

2009-04-01T06:09:00.001-04:00

Arriving here in early October, Anthony and I became friends pretty much right off the bat. I mean looking back to the beginning of PC training, it was really unavoidable. Not only did we make up two thirds of the male population in our health volunteer training group, but we were also in the same small language class. Then, of course, there was another key factor that pretty much sealed the deal: our shared passion for all things nerdy. After a bit of goofing around and chatting we found out that we are both big fans of movie quoting and referencing. We love to discuss history; especially American as of late (he’s reading a Lincoln bio I suggested while I’m reading an FDR bio). We both have similar, ridiculous senses of humor. And we both share and like to discuss our similar ideas concerning social justice and development.

When I found out my site placement in November, I was excited to learn that Anth was going to be placed in a town nearby. So, naturally, in the weeks following the announcement, there was talk between us of everything from movie hang-outs to co-organizing projects together. We were absolutely stoked about getting started as official Peace Corps volunteers and being able to hang out as well. These next two years were going to be great!

On the day that all the volunteers from our area were being dropped off to site for the first time, I don’t think we were fully prepared for what we encountered. After saying our goodbyes to my friend Molly in Quissico, we drove for maybe two minutes before the view of the trees and long grass gave way to the bluest and most beautiful body of water I had ever laid my eyes on. I couldn’t help but gasp as my eyes followed the waves to the white, powdery beach and to the small number of coconut filled palm trees along the shoreline. *What could this possibly mean my site would look like?!* I wondered. As if Anthony was partially reading my mind, he turned away from the window and asked jokingly, “So… do you feel like you’re in Peace Corps yet?”

Since that day in December, Anthony’s question has become somewhat of a gag between him and me. We found out that my city has everything from standard appliances and electronics to foods that most of the other volunteers here can’t find at their own sites. “Do you feel like you’re in Peace Corps yet?” There’s a restaurant on the other side of town that has milkshakes, hamburgers, and French fries. “Do you feel like you’re in Peace Corps yet?” Maxixe is right on the beach and is within close proximity of some of South Africa’s favorite vacation destinations. “Do you feel like you’re in Peace Corps yet?” And so on… and so on…

‘Do I feel like I’m in Peace Corps yet…?’ Depending on the day, amongst some of the Inhambane volunteers, the answer to the question can become less playful smiling and more of a stern and somewhat bitter ‘no.’ Stern because their own Peace Corps expectations were not met and bitter perhaps because of a fear of other people calling them out for not living the ‘true’ Peace Corps experience. From there, in the midst of disappointed expectations, occasionally comes this next question: ‘Why exactly am I here in the first place?’

For me, there was a time that I struggled with my own ‘Peace Corps Experience’ and unmet expectations. (I blame my inherited Catholic guilt :)) ‘You mean I don’t have to worry about harsh weather conditions weighing me down, or sicknesses all the time, or even of working with very limited resources?’ Of course, after the first few weeks at site of trying to make sense of things, I came to my own somewhat more rational conclusion: maybe I am asking myself the wrong question. Maybe it should not be ‘Do I feel like I’m in Peace Corps.’ Maybe it should be something like ‘Is there a need where I am living that I can attempt to alleviate utilizing whatever talents that God gave me?’

In this light, as the focus goes from the individual volunteer to the community at large, the very ‘positives’ of the area come into question themselves. The coastal cities in our Province have lots of resources, but can the average Mozambican in Maxixe afford them? Upon exploration, one realizes that the answer is no. Does the Province really need financial help when they boast of some of the most lucrative beachside tourist businesses on this side of the continent? Here the volunteer begins to notice that these businesses are really booming. But how much really goes to the locals when the hotels, restaurants, and beach side attractions are almost exclusively owned by South African and other foreigners?

When the perspective changes, one comes to see past some of the distractions of warm weather and beaches and see the reality. There are marked fields of mines remaining from the civil war still yet to be cleaned up. The area, especially the city of Maxixe, is home to many child headed households and orphaned children living with their aunts or grandpas. HIV is a threat, yes, but there are also the less talked about issues of why children are so often found playing in and with garbage, why marital and relational dishonesty is so common, and why honesty in general is often hard to find on the streets and in the marketplace.

In the end, I think we ‘privileged’ volunteers, while initially thrown off by the degree of separation between our previous expectations and the reality in which we live in, have to ask ourselves a few things. Is the ‘Peace Corps experience’ about the volunteer or the people she serves? What are we really gaining or losing by living outside of our expectations?

We came here as individuals for a reason, each probably somewhat different that others’. But at the very least many of us came because we have faith in the idea, however unrealistic or naive it may be, that there is something that we can concretely do to make a difference in the life of at least one other person. With this is mind, wouldn’t it be better if we simply let our actions and not solely our surroundings define our two years here? I’d like to think so…

Projects

2009-04-01T06:08:00.000-04:00

Hey Folks! So figured that in order to give you a better idea of what I have been doing here, I’d talk briefly about two projects that I am interested in starting/ have already started. I figured with all my ideas that I have for the programs, it would make sense for me to organize them in little sections instead of going all over the place talking about a random detail. I hope you enjoy reading them. :)

Os brazos do Irmao (A Brother’s Arms)

2009-04-01T06:07:00.000-04:00

Problem Addressed:The reality here is that due to various factors (HIV and AIDS being a huge part of it) many parents have been dying one after the other and leaving children on their own to take care of themselves and their siblings. Some children are lucky enough to have family to take them in, but others instead end up running their own households and trying to make ends meet to provide for their younger brothers and sisters.

Resources Already Available: There are a few organizations in Maxixe, but Mahlahle (‘Ma’-guttural ‘k’- ‘lah’- guttural ‘k’-‘leh’) stands out from the rest with its steady supply of resources as well as effectiveness within the community. Mahlahle (the meaning in Bitonga I forget) provides basic support for orphans medically and educationally with their funding. From time to time, there is also enough to provide food.

What my Project Hopes To Accomplish:
In my mind, the role of the parent includes, but is not necessarily limited to, the following… She or he:
1) provides food, shelter and clothing, 2) provides emotional support 3) instills values and 4) passes on knowledge and experience that children can use in order to create successful futures for themselves

The way I see it, if a child does not have parents or a responsible guardian, there is much more than just healthcare and education that he or she will need. While Mahlahle provides the first role to an extent, there is still lacking in the other three. Therefore, my hope is to create a new program which addresses a few of these points to the best of our ability. The idea is that while we can never hope to replace the parents, we can provide mentoring, friendship, and role models for them to aspire to… kind of like a big sister or brother.

How:My hope, which is actually pinnacle if something like this is going to work, is to get the local university involved. Sagrada Familia is a Catholic University with a campus ministry program that is just itching to broaden its horizons. I have already talked to the Deacon, who works within Campus Ministry, as well as the head Campus Minister himself, and they seem to be quite interested in the idea.

My thought is that if I were to go through them, they can assist my projects in a number of ways. First, the can provide space in the gym and the classroom for games, short lessons, and activities that we do in large group sessions. Second, they can provide students who would work for no money and would do the job well because they would actually want to be there. Third, it would be sustainable as the more I get the University office involved and the more I get competent and caring students involved, the less that they would need me there to delegate.

Funding: Peace Corps Vast Grant (TBD)

Specific Roles of Volunteers and the Outline of the Program:

1. Individual Visits to the Child headed households once a week
• Helping with Homework
• Playing for a while
• Help monitor Cooking habits and diet
• Getting to know the youth

2. Assist in Group Activities (Weekly Social Events in a Youth Group-esque format)
• Sporting Matches- Basketball, Soccer, Volleyball
• Basic Games and Activities
• Short sessions on whatever topic for the leaders of household and others kids interested: gender, self respect, professionalism, cooking healthily, HIV prevention etc.

What I Am Doing to Start/ Possible Hiccups:

Familiarizing myself with Mahlahle as well as the children they work with is key. Since I have to work in various neighborhoods with the permission of local leaders and since I am hoping to work with children, face recognition is especially important in order to gain their trust. If I show up with Mahlahle on a few day to day visits, then I can legitimize my presence in this side of the community.

One issue with this is that my office and Mahlahle are apparently… ahem… ‘professional rivals.’ They generally do not like to intermingle on projects for some reason, which has the potential to complicate things. So… worse case scenario I can either a) utilize the Catholic Church and visit local leaders to share my intentions directly and/or b) go through another less effective, but generally respected association on the other side of town. Time will tell...

Future Business Leaders of Mozambique

2009-04-01T06:05:00.000-04:00

Problem Addressed: Even for those fortunate enough to receive an education up to the University level, many Mozambicans often find themselves struggling to provide for themselves and their families with stable, decent paying jobs.

What the Project Hopes To Accomplish: While the leaders of this project do not make any promises of drastic change, they do aim to teach professionalism as well as the basic rules of business, thereby giving involved Mozambicans the tools necessary to succeed.

How: The Future Business Leaders of Mozambique (FBLM), which was created a few years back by Peace Corps volunteers, is in its simplest form an 8 week crash course in business. The 8 weeks course, which is comprised of one two hour class and one two hour workshop a week, brings in local businesspeople to speak about various topics ranging from HIV in the workplace to demographics to basic rules of advertising. Meanwhile, the students themselves are formed into groups and fashion their own business, utilizing the ideas that they have learned in class. At the end of the 8 weeks, the projects are presented to a panel of judges (most likely made up of past speakers and teachers from the school) with the winning group receiving 15,000MT (or about $500) to start their business.

Funding: The President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief, or PEPFAR, provides our program with all of the funding it needs for supplies, business finance money, compensation for speakers, etc.
My Role: I manage the class budget, purchase the supplies, and organize the classes (aka monitoring workshops and attendance as well as who’s speaking and when) for the group I form here in my city. I will work alongside a Mozambican counterpart (TBD right now) to help mediate between myself and the school system I know so little about.

What I Am Doing to Start/ Possible Hiccups: I have already talked to the director of the school and he seems very excited about the prospect. One pleasant surprise that came out of our discussion was his desire to have students of FBLM not be the older students who are about to graduate, but the ones that have already left and still do not have work. The way he figures it, this program can at least give some of them a direction to go towards.

The Marketplace

2009-03-02T08:04:00.001-05:00

Ahh the marketplace… rows of wooden stands all built right against each other going from the main road back until a line of trees and houses. To think such a paradise of inexpensive, quality fruits, veggies, and fish is but just a 3 minute walk from my house. Yet another reason to thank God daily. :)

As I mention in another blog, the market is just about a daily stop for me. Yes, I have to buy whatever ingredients I need any given day to make dinner, but I also go there specifically to enjoy some of the people that I have gotten to know over the past few months. There are the same shoppers who walk around the market when I do, the same kids playing while their parents work, and then of course there are the venders that work the stands themselves.

One of my favorite stands to visit is that of my friend Angelica. She’s a bit older, probably enough to be my grandma, and boy does she act like one towards me. I met her a few months ago when she called me over, recognizing me from my greeting the congregation in Church a few Sundays before. We got to chatting and next thing I know, I’m at her stand everyday and being spoiled rotten every time. It’s like she said one day to me right before I walked off, “Don’t be afraid to take bacelas. Your family is not here so you need other people to be your family here in Mozambique.” She smiled and as usual gave me a few free goodies in my satchel.

A bacela, for the non- Portuguese speaker or Mozambican, is at it sounds… a free item. And thankfully it’s not solely given away at the market near my house. As the general unspoken rules go, they are given when asked for by the customer, especially after buying lots of items. In other cases, however, when you shop at the same stand often and/or become friendly with a vender like Angelica, they are just offered. And what tastes better than a mango? You guessed it… a free one… :)

Meanwhile if somebody were in the mood to settle for a mere bargain, there’s also the option to haggle. Of course, while haggling is always a good way to get a decent price, there has to be a little bit of discernment involved. Is this person just trying to take advantage of the foreigner to get some extra spending money or is she (or) he simply trying to make ends meet? Maybe it’s best to not haggle unless the first situation is very apparent. Maybe it’s better to protect oneself regardless. Whatever side one may choose, I find that it’s better to give others the benefit of the doubt in most cases because you just cannot always know for sure.

Thankfully within my own marketplace there is a level of trust between myself and the women whose stands I go to. If the price has indeed gone up, they tell me and they always give me good quality. Meanwhile I return the favor by always going to them and buying lots of items from their stands everyday.

That said, the marketplace has become more to me than just a place to make transactions since I first arrived in December. The relationships, however basic they may be, have indeed been a great blessing to have at the end of a long day at work. Sometimes a smiling face and a talk about the weather is enough to both remind me that I belong here as well as to make some of the toughest days just a little bit better. Now that’s something to thank God for everyday, isn’t it?

What I Do

2009-03-02T08:03:00.001-05:00

My job in its basic form is to collect the reports that schools and organizations hand in to ADECI every month and type up their numerical data on accomplished programs. Besides that I also work on computer maintenance (which is actually needed more often than one might think). . . Yeah, there’s not much to my current work day here.

It was my brother last week who said exactly what I have been thinking since I got here when he (James) bluntly asked, ‘So… when are you gonna…like… start helping people?’ Good question indeed little broski.

And my answer… the answer I’ve been reassuring myself with through this entire process is this:

time and patience.

Ok, so in the grand scheme of things I have roughly 21 or 22 months left here as I’ve already gone through just about 3 months at site. By now I am much more comfortable in my surrounding than before. I know people in my neighborhood better. I have a better idea of resources and needs in the area. I have ideas and I have friends and coworkers that are interested in these ideas. AND in just about a week or so I get training from Peace Corps on writing grant proposals (aka getting funding) and project planning. Things really feel like they are finally coming together.

Having said that, there are some potential challenges to overcome. First, I have to go around and make sure that, no, there are not other organizations doing the same or similar things as I am proposing to do. Second, in a country where jobs are scarce, working for NGO’s has become a popular profession for people whether dedicated or not. The simple fact is that people need to feed their families, so of course they will work somewhere even if their skills and talents don’t really match the job.

On the first point, I am sure that having other programs like mine isn’t going to be a huge issue. Granted I am still relatively new here, but I have been asking questions like crazy and have a good idea of what is going on in Maxixe. Still, I would like to visit these organizations to hear from their own mouths what they do and maybe even see what kind of resources they can potentially support me with. That’s what I will be doing this week and the week after in service training.

As for the second challenge, I have been blessed to find a great ally in the local Catholic university (Sagrada Familia). I have made friends with the President, the Deacon, and the head of Pastoral ministries and they have expressed great interest in having students help with some of my possible projects. And why not? Students volunteer there all the time not because they need the money but because it is simply what they love to do. If any of my programs are to succeed, it will be because of that fact.

In the end, given my progress thus far and the new opportunities that have arisen as of late, I am very confident in the direction that my service is heading at my site. All I have to do now is start with meeting local organizations and then take it from there. One day at a time. ‘Time and patience’ right? :)

ADECI

2009-03-02T08:02:00.000-05:00

I work at a NGO (or non -governmental organization) called ADECI (in English- Association for the Development of the Community in Inhambane). Yeah… bureaucracies really love their acronyms. :)

The basic functions of my org. are as follows:

They are essentially the bank for other organizations and schools that want to promote health and HIV awareness in the community. In other words, ADECI (which receives money from USAID) provides funding to these groups in exchange for merely following through on proposed programs and writing/handing in monthly reports on all activities.

ADECI also has a program of its own called ‘Vida Sobre Rodas’ in which there are trained activists (usually teenaged since ADECI likes to work primarily with youth) hired within different communities outside of the city to perform door to door HIV testing and counseling.

Finally, there is Chapa da Malta, a once a month program that utilizes many of ADECI’s own activists in promoting HIV awareness through theater, debate, and other social events.

A typical day

2009-03-02T07:59:00.000-05:00

While it might not be so thrilling on my end of the spectrum at least, I figured some of you might be curious to learn how my life differs from the normal day to day in the states. And so, in the spirit of the third part of the Peace Corps Mission (‘to promote a better understanding of other people on the part of the American people’) here it is…  Enjoy!

6:30am Wake up to my phone alarm. Most people in the neighborhood have already been up since sunrise an hour before, so I’m starting my day relatively later. While most people have already cooked breakfast and gotten dressed, I’m tying my mosquito net together and making my bed. NOTE- There aren’t many mosquitoes in the area, but I have the net because you never know what other ‘fun’ creatures could make their way onto my bed. (ie. Spiders, roaches and non poisonous scorpions…goo!)

6:35am Feed my dog the concoction of boiled shrimp and Xima (see previous blog) that I’d cooked the night before.

My dog’s name?, you ask. Let’s just say that if adventure had a dog, then its name would be…

… yeah, I went there.

6:37am Sweep my yard. This was one of the things that caught me off guard when I came here since… well… people here are essentially sweeping a yard of dirt and sand. Many Mozambicans take pride in having a neat looking yard though, which includes making sure that the sand has a combed over appearance and is free of leaves and other garbage.

6:40am Iron my clothes for the day and clean my shoes. I plug in my iron (I have electricity as many people do here) and brush off the dirt and sand from my shoes as I wait for the iron to heat up. Like I said… Mozambicans like neatness and if somebody shows up somewhere wrinkled and with tons of crap on their shoes (even though there is dirt and sand almost everywhere), they are not afraid to call you out. This actually happened to me once before. It’s not fun. Lol

6:55am Breakfast time! Fresh bread I bought at the market the evening before that I store in my trusty zip lock bag and South African peanut butter (optional banana and/or mango). Yeah… the peanut butter here (Black Cat) is A-mazing! My dog Indiana seems to like it too. :)

7:00am Shower time. So my shower is essentially a massive blue bucket (as tall as my waist and about a meter wide) in which I store water every Saturday for the week. How this works is you crouch down (still standing) and with another smaller bucket, pour water on the hair, back, chest, legs, and shoulders/armpits. Then you scrub with whatever shampoo and soap you have (Old Spice body wash/ shampoo, how I miss thee!) and repeat pouring with the bucket after you’re done. It’s very simple. And the water all drains off to the small hole in the wall off to the side. Important to note is that this is a room located outside which is separate from my house and is right next door to my concrete hole-in-the-ground bathroom.

7:15am Get dressed and brush teeth.

7:35am Start walking to work. The walk is about 20 minutes long and follows a series of winding roads through the trees which are made up of sand, dirt, tree brush, and the occasional garbage. By now I have taken the same route so many times that people and faces have become very familiar. And while the series of ‘good mornings’ and attempts at English greetings by others collectively make it a pleasant walk; the heat makes it a sweaty one. Let the countdown commence until Winter! :)

7:55am Run into the store near my work to buy ‘Maria’ crackers. ‘Maria’ crackers are essentially pseudo-graham crackers, but way better. They’re relatively inexpensive and serve as a good snack in between breakfast and lunch break.

8am- 1pm (or 13h); 2pm-4pm Work at ADECI (See ‘What I Do’ blog)

1pm-2pm Lunch Break. I walk from the ADECI building to the post office, which is a few blocks away, to check for mail at my PO Box. Then I trudge over to the ‘heart of the city’ as I like to call it (where traffic of people and cars is at its height) to a somewhat secluded spot off to the side under a big tree.

I like to go there because I can always find Mozambican women walking around the chapa stops and selling lanha (‘baby coconuts’). They carry the basin full of coconuts on their head and per request they pull out a machete and cut open the top of the coconut for me to drink. Then once I’m finished, they chop it in half and give me a spoon fashioned from another part of the coconut to scrape out the meat. SUCH a good snack!

Now its chill time under the tree until the end of break in which I usually am reading mail or a book. (Right now it’s ‘The Count of Monte Cristo’… highly recommended’)

4pm-5pm Very up in the air. But depending on what I did during lunch it either includes post office trip, reading once again, or just walking around for a bit. Regardless of the day I walk into the ‘heart of the city’ to buy what is in my opinion the freshest bread in all of Maxixe. It’s warm, it’s fluffy, and it’s D-licious!

5pm-6pm I make my trek up the dirt road back towards home which can include a stop to get samousas from the nice ‘samousa lady’ (as I call her) and/or the occasional visit to Anne’s (another Peace Corps Volunteer who lives by me). Whatever the case, I always like to stop by the marketplace by my house to buy the night’s groceries. (See marketplace blog)

6pm-7pm I come home and wash the dishes from the night before, straighten up my house a little bit then start dinner.

Cooking dinner, as I’ve mentioned before, has become one of my favorite things to do… always with either some classic rock or the blues playing. TO give you an idea, I have my share of pasta nights but I also make things like sushi, fried eggplant, and Spanish tortilla (French fried potatoes mixed in beaten eggs and cooked like a pancake) topped with bruschetta. Afterwards I make the dog her food, serve half and then save the rest for the next morning.

8-10pm Either hanging out with my neighbor Vaz, reading, writing letters, or watching something on my computer.
10-10:30ish Set up the fan and mosquito net in my room and go to bed.

Just another day in Maxixe!

A Random Scene

2009-02-13T04:22:00.000-05:00

What a fantastic day! It was sunny for the first time after a week of rain and there was a nice breeze coming off of the ocean. It was so relaxing to just hang out for a half an hour in my favorite shaded area in the heart of the city, picking out a recipe for dinner from my trusty Peace Corps cookbook. Yeah, I was sure I had all the ingredients for this one dish… all I needed was to go find an eggplant.

So I walked the bustling streets where vendors were selling burned DVDs, egg sandwiches and coconuts; dodged the fast-moving, unyielding traffic; and trudged up the road toward the entrance of the Mercado Central. The entrance itself wasn’t so hard to spot anymore. After a few days I had gotten used to finding the somewhat hidden 6 foot entrance in between two tin shops right by the street.

When I passed through to the front of the market, I stopped to look around at the rows of wooden stands, trying to see if somebody might finally have eggplant that day. My eyes scanned over the fruits, veggies, and fish that I saw at every table until I finally found it. It was right in front of me…

‘Good afternoon!’ I greeted the middle-aged woman.

“Good afternoon!” she replied as she smiled at me like I was someone she’d known for years. “What would you like? Tomatos? Onions? Bananas…?”

‘No, actually… how much are the eggplants here?’ I said nodding toward the edge of the stand.

“Oh…umm… it’s 50 MT for a kilo.” Roughly two dollars in American.

I couldn’t help but gasp. *That sounds pricey.* I thought to myself. *If I’m going to pay 50 MT for eggplant, I better get my money’s worth.*

‘How much makes a kilo?’ I asked.

She took a plastic bag and hung it from a scale which she was holding with her other hand. I was relieved to see her fit like 8 fist sized eggplants in the bag to measure out one whole kilo.

‘Hmm… that’s a lot of eggplants. How about three? How much is that?’

“30 MT.” She said right as the words left my mouth. Immediately a red flag went up in my head.

‘You didn’t even measure it. If you’re gonna charge 30MT, then you should make sure it weighs more than half a kilo.’

She weighed it again. “Half a kilo. Ok… 25MT then.”

I nodded my approval, paid her, and turned around to leave.

“SON!” A woman called from the stand I was then facing.

I walked up to her and said my usual greeting.

“You came here looking for avocados and you said you would be back to get some Tuesday!” She sounded kind of angry.

*Ohh crud… I totally forgot about that. I ended up finding avocados in the store by my house.*

‘Umm. Sorry mother… I haven’t really needed it.’

“AND you bought eggplants overthere?! I have lots of them right here that you could buy.”

‘How much are they?’ I asked while trying to gauge her anger.

“10MT for one.”

*Wow… and these suckers are HUGE too. I really should have bought them here. Oy! AND I should know better than to buy something at the first stand I see.*

‘Well mother, I will buy them from you next time…’ Her face soured a little. She didn’t believe me.

‘Hey what’s your name again?’ I asked with a smile.

“My… oh…my name? It’s Maria.” Suddenly her face softened dramatically.

‘I’m Victor. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’

Next thing I know, she and I were going back and forth chit-chatting for a little bit. She was mostly asking me questions about my background and what I am doing here, while I was just trying to not look like a goofball with my language abilities. After a few minutes though, I started to realize how hungry I actually was.

‘Well Maria, it was good to meet you and next time I come by this way I will buy my eggplants AND avocados from my new friend Maria. Ok?’

She started to laugh. “Ok. Ok…”

‘Until later.’

“Yes of course. Until later, Victor.”

She was laughing still as I turned and walked out of the market. The streets were still crowded with people and noisy cars zipping by. I stopped for a second to look down the road straight ahead as it’s met in the distance with the beautiful, bright blue Indian Ocean. *God, what a wonderful day.*

I'm sorry, eu no falo...

2009-01-24T03:06:00.004-05:00

‘… And we also have a visitor here from the United States named Victor. He is new to the Church and to Maxixe and will be with us for the next two years… is he here today? I didn’t see him.’

*Oh crap. Should I pretend I didn’t understand? Wait, what are you saying?! Get up there… if this were the States you’d already be up there addressing the crowd.*

‘Oh there he is. Would you like to say something?’ He motions for me to come forward.
I stand up and walk to the front of the Church. I can feel everyone’s glare on the back of my neck and I’m a bit uneasy as I get ready to introduce myself before a large crowd of people in a language that I just started learning in August.

I reach the podium and the announcer repeats his invitation for me to speak. ‘Just a few words about you and what you’re doing here would be nice.’

*Ok. I can do this.*

‘Good… Good morning. My name is Victor Perez and I work for the Peace Corps. Yes… I am from the United States and I’m glad to be living here in Maxixe for the next few years. Thank you so much for your welcome and…well… I’m very happy to be here. Thank you.’

*Wow, Vic. Nice. Way to explain your job. ‘I work for the Peace Corps.’ Brilliant… because I’m sure they all know what that is… sigh… ok, ok just go sit down…*

‘Thank you very much, Victor. Now for our next…’

That was the scene in my new Church, Sagrada Familia, a few Sundays ago when I went to the earlier Mass for the first time. Funnily enough, that was actually my third time introducing myself before a congregation here, the first being back in October when I arrived in Namaacha for training… so I had some practice. What was the big deal then? For one, thanks to my nerves, my Portuguese vocab just went out the door the minute I stepped up to address the congregation. A crowd isn’t a big deal, but a crowd that may not understand what you are saying and/or may look down on you slightly for your limited language ability is something to worry about.

It’s such a frustrating thing when a person opens her mouth to speak and she knows that no matter what she says, the other person is not going to be able to fully understand and appreciate her thoughts or feelings. Maybe just as wearisome is when she cannot completely understand what the other person is trying to communicate.

Portuguese for me has been an adventure. It and this experience in general have already challenged me in ways I didn’t even know I could be challenged in. Some days I feel like I’m getting it after having a conversation about… say… the US electoral system with a Mozambican. Meanwhile there are the other days as well when I say something simple, think the other person understands, and then pause as I notice their blank stare. That’s life though. . . Take it for the good and take it for the bad. Live and learn from your mistakes.

On a side note, while I’m thinking about it, I can honestly say that I feel a lot closer to my father even with us being so far apart. Granted I’ve only been here for four-ish months, but I can at least picture what it must have been like for him to move to a country and attend school where he didn’t understand a vast majority of what people were saying. What he did and I guess ultimately what I have to do in this situation then is to just give it time.

Yes I started learning Portuguese a few months ago and yes I have been living in it for almost as long, but I am getting a little better everyday with each new word, phrase, or pronunciation I learn. With any luck, the next time I have to introduce myself in front of a group of people or even have a basic conversation I can feel a bit more comfortable knowing that in the end things will get better in the span of two years... they have to right? :)

Potent Potables

2009-01-24T02:58:00.004-05:00

Coming to Mozambique I had no idea what to expect about… well… a lot things I’d say. I imagined everything from architecture to landscape based on educated guesses and whatever I could research before I left the states. At least one thing was for sure though: there would be no Dom’s, John’s, Presto’s, or Pino’s; no Mighty Taco; no La Nova… jeez… would they at least have cream soda in Mozambique?! Doubtful.

When I got here in October what I found was lots of rice, beans, bread, various veggies, xima (pronounced chima), and exotic fruit. Most people here fall below the line of poverty (80% as of 2003 based on a document I recently read for work) and so the most popular foods are that which people can get for the cheapest.

Xima is especially common as this cornmeal based food is both inexpensive and filling. By mixing the cornmeal powder with water and bringing it to a boil, the mixture hardens into a substance almost like potatoes. This is taken and topped with any kind of sauce for a little bit of flavor. (It’s actually pretty good too depending on the sauce).

As for what xima or rice can be topped with, there are many difference recipes of course. If I’m talking about Mozambican food, however, I have to talk about Matapa (Mah-tah-pa). Matapa is made with crushed cassava leaves, nuts, coconut water, and shrimp all cooked together in what turns out to be… well… a blend of delicious-ness. You can’t come to Mozambique without trying it, but if you’re on your own you might hesitate to make it yourself: properly prepared matapa can take 1 1/2-4 hours depending on the circumstances. Crushing everything is one challenge as you need lots of patience and muscle strength. Imagine a wooden chalice, times 15-20 in size (knee length), with most of a massive wooden pole sticking out of it. That’s what you crush things with when you’re making food for more than a few people. Yeah… I’ve only made it once. Lol.

Samousas are another tasty, inexpensive treat that can be found in an outdoor market for 1 Mt apiece, or 5cents in the US. Samousas are the same shape and size as a Dorito, but much thicker as it is basically fried dough filled with a mixture of veggies and maybe some fish. (Fish is also common being that we are so close to the water). This may or may not be one of my favorite snacks to grab on my way home from work. 

As for what I’ve been doing about food, I’ve found that I like to cook… very, VERY much. That’s right, maybe some classic rock or better yet… blues music and smell of whatever I purchased that day simmering on the stovetop… what a perfect way to start the evening. So far I have been experimenting a lot with the PC volunteer’s cookbook and have made everything from bruschetta to spaghetti with homemade mango sauce to homemade baked beans to mashed potatoes and stuffing and so on. As I wrote Leah in a letter a few weeks ago (which she’ll probably get a year from now thanks to somewhat slow postal service lol) it’s like I’m going from Chef Boyardee to Chef Emeril faster than you can say BAM! Cheesy I know… sorry, couldn’t help it.

Seriously though, I work with what I have… which thankfully is quite a bit: tomatoes, green peppers, garlic, onions, cucumber, pineapple, mangos, apples, bananas, and dried shrimp are commonly sold in most neighborhood outdoor markets, among the other cheaper foods already mentioned. That’s not even mentioning some of the things I can find if I scour some of the bigger markets inside the city.

All in all, I would say that I have been blessed with a decent amount of resources. I can find a lot of good food for relatively low cost and I can sample local plates at whichever outdoor stand or small restaurant I stumble upon. There’s no McDonald’s here, but there is a small place hidden away from the street in the marketplace where I can get a good meal and a fanta for 40 Mts. There are no La Nova’s BBQ wings, but there are fresh pineapples in season now which serve as a delicious way to start the day. Yeah, I think it’s safe to say that Maxixe is starting to feel like home…

More next month…

2008-12-31T06:19:00.001-05:00

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

2008-12-31T06:18:00.001-05:00

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…’

2008-12-31T06:17:00.001-05:00

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.