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… :)
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
A good week for secondary projects
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.
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
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… :)
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… :)
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
A Quick Pause for Reflection
‘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.
‘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.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Live Free or Stand-fast (or translated from nerd talk: Thoughts on Standfast and Mozambican National Elections)
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?
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?
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
A Brief Rundown on a Traditional Wedding
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…
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…
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Domestic Violence in Mozambique
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.
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.
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