Today Amanda and I jumped on a chapa and hightailed it west towards Milevane to visit the Padres and Irmas in order to show her their extravagant (comparatively speaking) setups.
The Padres own a large compound that resembles something of an old, southern-style plantation, complete with 3 large buildings (1 for lodging that comfortably sleeps over 100 people, 1 for meals and gatherings, and another for the maintenance staff), huge grassy fields spotted with grazing livestock, and flourishing gardens. In fact, if one didn’t notice the mountains converging on all sides, one might think they were truly back in South. The Irmas, on the other hand, are charged with running a local agriculture technical school and thus live in much more modest, pragmatic housing. That said, without a maintenance staff to help upkeep the property, the nuns (even the oldest one who is over 85) are doing quite an impressive job growing a wide range of plants (flowers, vegetables, fruit, etc) around their house.
Amanda and I decided to first visit the Padres in order to walk around and stretch our legs, enjoy the views, and have a progressive picnic lunch. Getting off the chapa at the main throughway, you have to walk a good half mile through the tree-lined property even before getting to the Padres’ housing. The main buildings stand in the middle of nowhere like a welcoming oasis for the weary traveler. The whole complex is overseen by less than 5 catholic priests, but needs the large sleeping capacity mentioned above because it functions as a convention center for all sorts of groups that want to meet without all the distractions of a big city (but still with running water, electricity, and the whole works to keep you comfortable).
After checking in with the cooking staff (all the Padres had left for the afternoon), we explored the grounds, hiking around, climbing trees, and snacking here and there on our fruit. The whole afternoon was a pleasant temporary escape from the “tough life” of Mozambique and left us both refreshed and smiling from ear to ear.
Me hanging out in a very sticky, sappy tree behind the Padres'
Amanda looking chique in her natural environment :-)
Amanda and I goofing around
Looking up at the Padres' forest of Eucalyptus trees
After finishing up our quick go around at the Padres, we rumbled down the eroded red-dirt road to the more humble dwellings of the Irmas. Although the house itself isn’t much to look at, the yard is a smorgasbord of chili pepper bushes, sunflowers, corn, wild flowers, and other various veggies. All said, it has a very homey feel to it. We had a look around but, unlike at the Padres, we quickly made a concerted effort to try and interact with the owners of the house. Unfortunately, all but one of them (the eldest) were out for the afternoon attending the same Easter related activities that the Padres had gone to at the nearby Catholic mission. After some searching, we stumbled across the one remaining nun at work in the yard, busily weeding the plant beds with her garden hoe swiftly swinging back and forth. Looking up surprised from her work as we approached, she was kind enough to excuse herself from her labor, welcome us in, and entertain us for a bit with some stories and snacks. Loving the food and stories about the good old days (she arrived in Zambezia in the 50s), we ended up staying late, not leaving until around till 4pm. Setting up shop at Milevane’s ONE roadside store, we sipped on some Cokes (they really are everywhere in the world!) waiting for a chapa to pass by. After 30 minutes or so, we decided that we might as well start walking along the road towards Nauela in case a car wouldn’t be coming any time soon (rides at this time of day are few and far between).
Amanda throwing back a coke while waiting for the chapa-that-never-would-be to come.
Singing Disney theme songs as we skipped our way towards Nauela, I’m sure we were quite the spectacle! It started off all fun and games, however, pretty soon the sun crouched low behind the distant mountains and it started getting cold. We ended up having to walk most of the way back home to Nauela before finally catching a ride for the last leg with the rest of the Irmas who were coming home from the Easter celebration. They were initially confused by why were we out in the middle of nowhere, walking alone, in the dark in the dark no less… but when they heard that we were actually coming back from having tried to visit them, they were very apologetic and accommodating when retracing their steps while taking us back to my house in Nauela. Thank God for their help!
Arriving back home with some time to spare before needing to head to bed, we decided to make a some banana bread for the next morning to accompany our cups of tea which we’d be sipping while waiting for Amanda’s chapa out of Nauela. Standing next to the impromptu double dutch oven watching Amanda check whether the banana bread was done yet or not, I couldn’t help but secretly hope for an Easter morning miracle where by some stroke of luck no chapa would be passing through tomorrow… One can hope can’t they?! I’m not going to hold my breath though :-P
Sunday April 4th, 2010 – Easter Sunday!
Rolling wearily out of bed to silence the loud twang of my watch’s alarm, I sadly realize that morning has already come and thus it’s time to get up and wish Amanda a safe journey home. The watch held true, going off promptly at 6 am, and only minutes thereafter Amanda and I are both up and moving about. I am preparing a pot of vanilla tea while Amanda scurries around the house making sure that all of her stuff had been gathered and packed away in her travel sack. The warm tea coupled with the banana bread (which had cooled overnight into a firm, but still moist final product) creates a dreamy combination which easily fights off the cool morning breeze cutting across the front veranda. Two cups of tea and an entire banana bread later (a key to avoiding the creeping guilty feeling of eating all that is NOT remembering how much sugar and oil went into making it!), we are still waiting for a chapa to pass by and it begins looking like my wish from the day before might be coming true.
Having finished our breakfast and being able to easily hear approaching cars, we decide to retreat back inside my house and spend our last moments together looking over various photos on my computer of my friends and family back home. As always, looking at photos lends to telling stories and almost immediately we dive into our memories, fishing out tales of those we had to leave behind when coming here to Mozambique.
I am in the middle of a story about my dad, brother, and I going to Manatee Springs, prompted by a certain photo album, when all of a sudden I hear an approaching chapa rumbling down the road towards Moloque. I was a little slow to react and, to make matters worse, the car was coming fast. Sprinting out of my house and stumbling across the yard, I am just barely able to flag it down as it passes while Amanda scrambles to gather her stuff and run out behind me. Handing over the backpack, helping her up, and then waving goodbye, my adrenaline rush doesn’t begin to wear off until the chapa has turned the corner.
In only a moment’s time it hits me. Watching the turned-up dust being swept away in the wind, I am suddenly floored by the realization that I am all alone (again!). It seems that goodbyes are always tough here in Mozambique, but this time it is that much harder because I hadn’t even had the time to put up my shields against this nuclear explosion of loneliness.
In some way it seems like the whole goodbye scene had never even happened, like it was just some bad nightmare and I’ll wake up at any moment with Amanda still sleeping soundly, just a shout away. The colors too real and the pain too great, I quickly know that this is no dream. Walking the 30 feet back to my door, I don’t even make it into the house before I start crying. The real sobbing, though, lets loose when I get into my room and am able to cover up my face with a pillow to drown out the sounds.
Cradling the soft supportive cotton against my face, I cry and cry for what seems to me like forever. Not just because I miss Amanda (which I did!), but because I miss everyone and everything all at once. I cried for my siblings, my parents, and my church family at home. I cried for my friends who I missed terribly… Ricky, Ronak, Chris, Carmen, Evie, Laura, Galo, Otto, Serge, Lauren, Idris, Eban, Dani… the list goes on and on. I cried for medical school, Streetlight, and ASP. I cried for the Florida beaches, the Appalachian mountains, and beautiful paved roads that so easily connect the two. I cried for the Gators, tailgates, and road trips. I cried for macaroni and cheese, sour patch kids, and Half Baked Frozen Yogurt. But possibly most importantly, I am crying because being removed from all these things makes me face how far I had drifted from God. How I have tried to fill that hole in my life, that hole that can only be completely filled by God, with all those other things which have been ripped away from me when coming here to Mozambique.
While slowly letting my sobs come back under control, an unexpected knock comes at the front door. “Michael, you gotta pull yourself together!”, I think. Wiping the tears from my eyes and clearing out the snot from my nose (not a pretty image I know, but crying isn’t an elegant action!), I walk out of my room and find Janeiro at the front door with Verlosa curiously peaking over his shoulder (no doubt both wondering what on earth was causing all that crying!). I try to explain that the crying was coming from me, that everything is ok, and that I am just lonely. All these thoughts, though, do nothing but reopen the temporarily patched flood gates holding back my tears. I feel bad for Janeiro who is looking on in amazement as this 6 foot, bearded man is standing before him balling his eyes out. I have so many thoughts running through my head that I’d like to explain to him, but I can’t find the words in English, much less Portuguese.
Recovering from their initial surprise, they try their best to reassure me, saying that I should passear more often, especially on holidays, because 2 years is a long time to be away from friends and family. Okay. Good point. Fair enough… Their immediate solution to me crying, however, is for me to close the house door and spend time reflecting by myself (initially that seems crazy, to be alone when feeling lonely, but maybe that IS what I needed…). I was too emotional to perhaps see the wisdom in their suggestion and thus refuse, insisting that I need to get cleaned up and go to the combined Easter church service in Mehecane that I just recently reminded myself about.
Even though I miss out on some good self-reflection time, I am glad I made the long bike trip to Mehecane. I arrive at the church late into the service, but of course am immediately escorted to the front row even while insisting that I’d be ok in any spot. That said, I don’t fight the special treatment too much because I secretly have hopes of getting some recordings of the various hymns today. Sitting in the front row facing the church leaders, I am a little hesitant to pull out my mp3 player (that my family sent me from the states as a Christmas present… Thank you so much!) to record the songs, but when I look across the main aisle and see a woman holding a big, old tape recorder, I figure that I’ll be okay with my much more discreet mini-recorder.
The one drawback to being so close to the front was that, when there was a large group of singers, the noise sometimes overwhelmed the mp3 player’s cheap microphone. In the end, I’m in Africa and I have to make do though, right? I tried my best to edit the clips afterwards to make the sound quality better and uploaded the 10 best music clips to the music player a little ways down on the blog’s right hand side (you can see it if you go to my actual blog website http://gatorinmozambique.blogspot.com/ ). I hope you all get a chance to check it out, if you haven’t already, and let me know what you think (sorry in advance for the subpar audio quality… I tried!) In case you are wondering, songs 5, 8, and 9 are from my home church here in Nauela and the subject of all 10 songs (due to the fact that it was an Easter service) are about being thankful for Christ’s resurrection.
After the service, I am able to talk with Pastor Vicente again and invite him to send a representative from Mehecane to the Lurdes Mutola pre-training meeting on May 15th where we’re going to select 25 people for the upcoming coaches training in Nauela. He quickly agrees and promised to have his suggestion to me by the week’s end.
Walking out of the church’s entrance and not quite wanting to go back home yet, I decide to climb up to the top of the nearby hill and take the following pictures (I hope you enjoy):
Mehecane with Mount Malapa in the background
Some inscriptions in a tree back from the mid 90’s… not too common here
A crazy huge spider whose web I almost ran into!
A panoramic view of Nauela from the hill near Mehecane. My house is on the far left, near the school, hospital, and administrative post. Meanwhile, the market/commercial area is on the right near Mount Nauela. Also pictured is the large white catholic mission on the right a little outside town.
A panoramic picture with Mehecane in it. Probably looks similar to the panoramic I took from the top of Mount Malapa because the two spots are relatively close.
Then, coming back down from the mountain, going through the village, and heading home I take these:
The main corridor in Mehecane lined with Eukaleptus trees.
The house where the former American nurse used to live. Notice the solar panel mounts that are now vacant. It used to be pimped out by Mehecane standards!
Mehecane’s União Baptista church that told 10 years to build.
A woman filling up her cup from the never ceasing stream of water coming directly from the spring on Mount Malapa (3 kms away)
Two men on their way back towards Nauela from Mehecane after the Easter service.
Wednesday April 7th, 2010
In Mozambique, people are always looking for a reason to party… I mean, even more than the rest of the world! Seriously though, they weren’t happy with just celebrating International Women’s Day, nor were they satisfied with the addition of an African Women’s Day…. No, no, they found it absolutely necessary to ALSO have a Mozambican Women’s Day! To their credit, most places in Mozambique only go out of their way to celebrate the latter, but still…
So what is Mozambican Women’s Day really all about here in Nauela? Well it can be summed up in the following: a bunch of women partying it up well into the night, at least partially buzzed by the local brew of fermented corn, dancing with babies capulana-d their backs. Don’t get me wrong though… I’m not hating on the women. Far from it actually! I mean, by the description above, it seems that almost every other day of the year must be Mozambican Men’s Day! That is, minus the responsibility of the men having to take care of the baby while celebrating!
To dress the aforementioned partying up a little, the local authorities held an official ceremony in the early morning where various community groups performed via dance, song, and theater. A local group of women did the singing, the primary school took care of the dancing, and the secondary school’s JOMA group performed a theater piece.
The JOMA theater group posing for a picture before the start of the day’s festivities with me pictured in the back middle
The local women’s group singing
Here’s the local women’s group pictured from above. Ok, ok… they did some dancing too!
The primary school students getting ready to go on… sweet outfits, huh?!
The JOMA group performing their piece about the theft and the judicial system [so pertinent to the day’s theme right ;-)]
After the morning’s festivities, the theater group got together and elected the 3 students who will be going as local representatives along with Professor Macua and myself to Quelimane for the JOMA conference at the end of next week. Exciting!
Thursday April 8th, 2010
Despite the fact that many of you back at home have commented to me that I seem SO busy, some days I find myself doing very little in the form of “work.” Today is one of those days! Sitting in my house having just finished washing my clothes and sweeping the house (no easy tasks mind you!), I see my neighbor Wiado relaxing on his front porch and decide to go pay him a visit. Plopping down alongside him and chatting for a while, things quickly grow silent (I think Mozambicans love just sitting in silence with others sometimes…). In an effort to break the perceived awkwardness, I propose a bike trip to passear a little before dark (I’d been wanting to climb Mount Nauela again sometime to take some pictures)...
Wiado thinks about it for a bit and then agrees, suggesting we go down to Eiope to a “big rock” instead though. I assume this means some sort of mountain, so even though it’s not exactly what I originally had in mind, I am all about exploring somewhere new. 45 minutes of strenuous biking/walking later and we find ourselves heading down into a valley with no mountain in sight. “What have I got myself into!”, I am thinking. Suddenly, we pull off the trail into the yard of a random house along the way and, what do you know, turns out it’s the home of Afonso, the father of Beljour (one of the students who was just elected to go to Quelimane for the JOMA conference). Wiado informs Afonso that we are headed to the “big rock” and, without missing a beat, he starts leading the expedition right where we left off, albeit on foot.
Walking down the trail quickly turns to jumping down the trail as I notice that the small twinges of pain I am feeling with increasing frequency are due to the THOUSANDS of small ants crawling across the path luckily these ants bite, but don’t cause an inflammatory response). Then, before I even know what’s happened, we are there. The Big Rock! As it turns out, the big rock is no mountain at all, but rather a huge monolith that stretches for miles and is the home of one of the main local tributaries of the Moloque River. Cool… just not what I was expecting.
Wiado and Afonso at the Big Rock with the small creek in the background
Wiado and Afonso getting ready to serve up some sugar cane
Having made it to the Big Rock and picked up some sugar cane along the way (the trip was worth it afterall!), we drop Afonso back off at his house and start on our way back home. Without advising me otherwise, Wiado takes an unexpected turn off the main trail and starts barreling down a much smaller, overgrown path. With little other choice and fully trusting his judgment, I follow his lead without objecting. When we finally came to a stop in the flat river beds, Wiado turns around to me and proudly proclaims that all this (pointing with his hand at stretching fields of corn, millet, rice, and pinto beans) is HIS machamba.
Wiado with his rice field in the background
Unfortunately, we can’t stay for too long because the sun is already tucking itself beneath the distant mountains to the west, but I am glad that I got to spend even a little time with Wiado in his element :-)
A panoramic sunset shot taken just outside of Nauela on our way back into town
Friday April 9th, 2010
Surprise! Early this morning, before I even have the chance to sweep my house and take a bath, none other than Florentino from IBIS (long time, no talk) shows up at my front door step unexpectedly and invites me out to Mitxaiane for another training with the area school advisory council.
The trip goes pretty well. Everyone is there and ready when we arrive. The meeting is short, sweet, and to the point. During the meeting, one thing that catches my attention, though, is the diversity of the council members. There are several women representatives (not all that common in other power circles here in Mozambique) and people from all different economic levels. Pretty cool…
Florentino starting the meeting with the school council members
One of the head women members gobbling up the discussion topics
When gauging the economic status of someone here in Mozambique, a good indicator is often how one covers one’s feet. Here are three people sitting next to each other on the council who probably are in very different financial situations (barefoot, flip flops, dress shoes).
Florentino connecting really well (as always!) with the crowd
Saturday April 10th, 2010
Today I am finally able to convince Manifez, the owner of my house’s nephew, to hike up Mount Nauela with me to take some pictures. Enjoy!
Me with Nauela pictured behind me. See how the main road snakes around in the shape of an “S”? The buildings right above my head and alittle to the left is the market. My house is 3 kilometers from there toward the horizon. BTW, I think I look pretty sexy!
A panoramic picture of the snaking road/town that is the administrative post of Nauela.
Standing on top of Mount Nauela and turning around towards the southwest, you are greeted by this distant view of Milevane. If you look closely you can even see the agricultural school run by the Irmas (center left, below the lowest point in the mountain range) and the convention center/monastery of the Padres (towards the right, directly under the tall mountain).
While Manifez and I are enjoying the views from the top of the mountain, I stumbled across some old bullet cartridges in the rock’s crevices (see picture below) that have been left behind from the civil war back in the late 80’s. As I’ve said before on this blog, Nauela was a hot spot for fighting during the war and Mount Nauela was actually a base for many of the area soldiers. Although the mountain had been booby-trapped during those years, a group of demining experts came through the area many years ago and supposedly cleared the area of any remaining mines. Now, these bullets are some of the only tangible remembrances of the hardships of the not too distant past.
When I get back home and start talking about the hike, specifically upon mentioning the bullets, Verlosa runs into her house and pulls out some of the old Mozambican metacais used back during that same time period(pictured below) to show me. Although this might seem like a bore to many of you at home, for someone whose family used to collect coins, it has always been interesting for me to see old money… For example, this photographed bill is from all the way back in 1986 (ancient by Mozambican standards… also it’s coincidently the same year I was born)… I mean, just think about all the hands it’s gone through and everything that’s happened in Mozambique and in the world during its lifetime as a printed bill… the end of Mozambique’s civil war, the fall of the Soviet Union, the discovery of the HIV/AIDS epidemic, the reconstruction of the country, etc… Crazy!:-)
Sunday April 11th – Friday April 16th, 2010
For me, some weeks here in Mozambique are huge successes and others… well… I feel like I am shooting myself in the foot every time I step outside of my house. In case you couldn’t guess, this was one of those weeks! A week requiring all of my flexibility and patience...
It all started on Monday when Rocha, my FGH counterpart, for whatever reason doesn’t show up again in Nauela as he was supposed to. I try to contact him, but of course his cell phone is turned off. My pulse quickly picks up and my head is filled with steam. Fed up with the situation, I try resolving issue through a series of text with our supervisor in Quelimane, but I end up even more upset/disappointed when the official organizational response is for me to just wait till the next FGH meeting at the end of the May (a month and a half away!). A few days later I try to go to Moloque to print out permission slips for the JOMA conference and try to meet up with Rocha to smooth things out, but give up after waiting outside my house for 4 hours for a chapa that never shows up (honestly I don’t think there’s ever been a 2 hour stretch during the day when I chapa hasn’t passed my house going to Alto Moloque, but of course today had to be a day of trials… Gah!). The next day I’m able to make it to Moloque, printing out the permission slips, and actually accidently meet up with my counterpart. But still, does it always have to be this hard?!
One good thing that has come about this week has been a cold front that has pushed the temperatures down into mid 60’s (I’m guessing) during the day. Probably my favorite part about all the cold weather is seeing all the locals decked out in winter clothes. Here I am walking around comfortably in a tshirt and pants and I’m constantly passed by people layered up in ski jackets, sweaters, and such as if the next ice age is quickly approaching.
Saturday April 17th, 2010
To the relief of everyone, the cold front has finally lifted. According to the general population in Nauela it’s now safe to leave one’s house in normal clothes again and not having to worry about frostbite ;-) How do I know this? Well I am actually able to tell before even stepping foot outside my front door. The house is warmer for sure, but the first thing I notice (because they wake me up!) is the up and down creaking of the nearby water pump coupled with the sounds of neighborhood children and mothers frantically sweeping their neglected dirt patios free of any leaves or twigs that have collected over the past few cold days.
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One of the neighborhood moms sweeping her patio in the early morning hours.
Verlosa, the wife Janeiro (the owner of my house), bringing back home a bucket of water from the water pump.
The morning rush at the water pump.
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Sara (left), Wiado’s daughter, and Dulce (right), Janeiro’s daughter, posing for the camera while waiting to pump water. *NOTE: These two pictures were taken by Dulce and Sara, respectively, and then digitally edited by me only to straighten and crop them. They did a great job right?!
Taking photos of all these comings and goings starts a dialog between me and the owners of my house about the ultimate destination/purpose of them. I try my best to explain about sharing my stories and pictures with friends and family back home through the internet, but in a place where many people haven’t even used a computer before, it’s tough to explain what the internet or blogging is. Coming back to their original suggestively ask if they’ll ever see any of these photos as prints, a question to which I tactfully try to avoid directly answering. They are persistent, however, going on to describe how Laura, the previous PCV, took several pictures around the house and left several prints behind with them. Just mentioning the photos, you could see how much they meant (still mean) to the family. Wanting to entertain their enthusiasm and genuinely interested in the photos myself, I ask if they could show me a few…
Janeiro and Dulce smiling while showing me a collage of photos given to them by Laura.
Verlosa holding a photo of Laura and her parents near the Catholic mission when they came and visited Nauela.
Sunday April 18th – Wednesday April 21st, 2010 – JOMA conference
Traveling from Nauela on a weekend is always tricky. The early cars that normally pass through at 6, 7, and 8am are typically absent, or going to Carmano for the huge weekend market there. That said, there are sometimes unexpected rides coming through Nauela during these early hours on the weekend so one must always be prepared and hope for the best. Right?!
Traveling alone from Nauela to Quelimane is a taxing enough feat. On the other hand, trying to organize and get a group of 5 from Nauela to Quelimane, smiling all the way, can be downright cruel. This year’s JOMA Conference, however, is upon us now and demanding that we do just that. Starting early… I’m talking a suitcases packed, breakfast eaten, house cleaned, and ready to go 5 am meeting time. Phew! Let’s do it :-)
Surprising enough, it’s Sunday morning and everyone is arriving at my house on time… minus professor Macua and myself who is still cleaning up from breakfast. No worries though. Mozambican serendipity takes care of it all. Surely enough, 4 hours later no cars have passed by and everyone’s getting a little restless. Bless the student’s hearts though, their Yogi-like patience is making the wait more tolerable and we even have UNO to keep our spirits up.
The group of us hanging out on my front veranda playing UNO while waiting for the chapa
Around 9:30am a finally chapa passes and gets us uneventfully to Moloque. Upon arriving, we are then blessed enough to all get seats in a covered chapa going directly to Quelimane, albeit we have to wait until almost noon to leave from Moloque. It’s a good thing that we are in the enclosed vehicle too because the midday heat as we are passing through the horrendous stretch of road between Alto Moloque and Macuba (imagine a road that is not paved, full of pot holes, severely eroded, and has spots of deep standing water) is hardly bearable, even with the roof’s protection. The day’s long journey has us arriving at Quelimane’s IFP just in time to set down our bags and eat dinner before the opening meeting of this year’s JOMA conference…
Now, I could go through and describe all the things we discussed during the 3 day conference topic by topic, but instead I’ll just let the pictures and captions do their magic... One of my favorite parts of the conference that is unfortunately not pictured or videotaped, so I must elaborate on it, was the final night’s game of musical chairs…
Hands down, it was with a doubt the longest game of musical chairs I’ve ever played. Not because it was the largest number of people I’ve played with, far from it in fact, but simply because of the sheer amount of music that was played during each round. While most Americans are running around during a game of musical chairs only listening to the music in order to hear the moment when it stops and everyone can be first to plop down in one of the remaining chairs, our Mozambicans seemed lose track of the “purpose” of the game entirely and, if not controlled, things would quickly turn into an impromptu dance off between participants. Indeed, the PCVs operating the sound system were actually booed by the contestants if the song for each round didn’t provide at least a solid minute of dancing. After more than an hour of intense laughing and shakin’ of the tail feathers we crowned an official “winner”, but I think we were all just glad that we had gotten to witness the spectacle :-)
Anyways, without further ado, I present to you my photos from this year’s JOMA conference:
All the participants seated quietly and politely on the first day of the conference as everyone, one by one, introduces themselves
It may look like she’s busily copying down notes about some serious subject matter, but really she’s just writing down the “rules of the room” (I.e. - respect other people’s opinions, show up on time, etc) as we get things rolling
Every day we’d try to break up the sessions with some midday play time. This game was sort of like sharks and minnows, except they sharks had to hold hands. (P.S. - the guy trying to avoid all the people tagging him is Justino from Nauela)
Gabe, a Moz 13 PCV, show his strong dissent… to anything and everything
Josh, a Moz 14 PCV, flaunting his always positive outlook…
We did one of those games where the moderator reads a statement and people have to say whether they Strongly Agree, Agree, Disagree, or Strongly Disagree with it. Here’s one of the participants getting his opinions out there.
Yohko and her friend grabbing a snack between sessions. Snack time was one of my favorite times of the conference actually, not just because of the but more so because of the exchange going on between the participants.
The conference’s moderator, a medical doctor from Maputo (I think?), talking about word associations to socially-constructed gender roles.
Trying to get everyone comfortable talking about our sexuality, here we are writing down the different Portuguese and local dialect slang words for different body parts and sex terms.
Everyone getting involved while writing in some questions, comments about the day’s topics
Katie and I sharing a laugh over some group work about the different ways to express yourself romantically to your partner without having sex.
Thursday April 22nd – Sunday April 25th, 2010 – Amanda’s Birthday Party!
Finishing up with the JOMA conference on Wednesday night, I have an early morning date the next day with a Save the Children (Amanda’s partnered organization) boleia slated to leave from Quelimane to Morrumbala at 5am (my JOMA counterpart, Macua, offered to accompany our 3 students back to Nauela alone, leaving me free to go straight to Amanda’s site from Quelimane). Not wanting to have to ride in a chapa more than necessary (seems almost sacrilegious, huh?), I crawl out of bed at 4:30, splash some water on my face, get dressed, grab my bags, and rush out the front of the IFP to meet the driver right on time. It wasn’t till I got up to the front of the IFP though that I remembered I was still in Mozambique and the driver surely wouldn’t be showing up for at least another hour or so… Americo, the STC driver, shows up nonchalantly at 6:10 welcoming me with open arms and I take a breath, smile, and just think to myself “Better to wait an hour and cruise in the A/C than ride in the back of a chapa…” (seriously though, I’ve gotten used to it and I was VERY grateful!)
The trip to Morrumbala is quick. Americo and I chat it up for the first hour and then, when the car gets filled with silence (I’ve already asked all the basic questions and it seems he doesn’t feel compelled to reach out and continue the conversation), I decide to finish reading a book during the homestretch. Driving into Morrumbala, we are greeted by a large crowd gathering around the city’s “casa de cultura.” Indeed, we have arrived smack-dab in the middle of the district’s cultural festival and, as it turns out, this swarming mass of people is exactly where Amanda has set up camp for the afternoon. After a series of text messages, I jump out of the car and run to meet her, but she has been selected as the STC representative at the festival and thus can’t entertain me for too long. Instead, she offers up her camera and asks me to take as many photos as I can…
A group of dancers in traditional outfits (you see these types of things in National Geographic all the time, but honestly now they seem to be relegated to cultural ceremonies as a remembrance of times past). Notice the shakers on the man’s calves, the one who is in the center-right bent over. Even the dancers have to make some of the music!
Drummin’in up! See how happy they are?
When you are short on musical instruments, one of the go to things here in Mozambique is a plastic whistle. Sort of an unpleasant sound at first, but you get used to it…
Wrapping up the cultural festival with a drawn out awards ceremony, the daylight is waning by the time we finishing walking back to Amanda’s house. I’m startled as we approach her yard by how much has changed in the short time I’ve been away. Flowerbeds and plots of budding vegetables cover her once barren, dirt patio. It’s so homey and inviting! The feeling doesn’t go away as I enter her house and am greeted by freshly painted walls in every direction. An orange, yellow, and purple shimmer are now where a simple white base once was. The painted walls are nicely complemented by the recently waxed floors and several new furniture/decorative pieces located throughout the house. For someone who once told me it would take the whole 2 years to get her house just the way she wanted it, things sure are coming along fast!
The next day, Amanda has stuff to do around the STC office and in town. So I spend most of the morning doing last minute tasks to help get ready for Amanda’s birthday party tomorrow. She’s put me in charge of getting all the pots, plates, and silverware from the her missionary friends, waiting around for a guy who’s bringing a fridge over for the drinks he’s going to sell at the party, roping off the plant beds so they don’t get smushed, not to mention just tidying up a little here and there. Around 2pm, though, Amanda gives me a ring, excuses me from my domestic duties [;-)], and invites me to meet up with her and a bunch of her newfound friends for the day’s MEPT luncheon. The meal is a celebration marking the end of a week of activities for the association. During the whole week, Amanda (the STC representative) and MEPT have been organizing events in the community to bring attention to issues surrounding education funding and reform. The guys were all really nice and the food was awesome (basically unlimited rice and a chicken-based sauce… YUM)! A few of the young men even promised to come over the next morning and help setup for Amanda’s birthday party… they seemed earnest enough, we’ll see though.
Amanda and all her MEPT boys after finishing up their lunch celebration
The next day we wake up to cloudy skies and the sound of rain steadily pounding down on Amanda’s tin room. A great day for an outdoors birthday party, right?! The rain comes and goes, sprinkling here and there all throughout the day. The goat has been skinned and is brought over for us to cut up and start cooking for the night's feast. Although Amanda and I take a backseat to the main action, Amanda does get involved a little with the meat preparation. We all tried to stay positive while baking cakes and preparing the house. Her neighbor/empregada, Lena, insists that the rain will soon pass. “Rain storms this time of year never last all day!” A few hours later, though, we start to get worried. There’s a break in the storm though and the house is flooded with helpers, Amanda’s friends from MEPT, who are bringing over tables and chairs, decorating the house, and setting up a sound system for the dance party.
Amanda and Lena taking a break from their goat butchering to smile for the camera
Amanda and Narcisio testing the soundsystem he brought over
Amanda and two of the girls she's met in Morrumbala working on decorations for the party. This is one of my favorite picture by the way... Just look at how they love her!
The hour comes and we have to make a last minute decision to move at least a portion of the party inside (afterall, the administrator of the district is coming!). We finish all the setting up, just in time and magically the rain starts to lessen as the clock nears 7pm. The crowd buildup starts slow, the higher-ups in STC and her local missionary friends are the only ones arriving in a timely manner. But pretty soon, there are so many people both in and outside the house that it’s getting a little crazy. Honestly, it’s quite impressive how many people Amanda has met and grown close to since being at site!
Look at the elegance of the dessert/present table with the candles
A group of Mozambicans reading Amanda a poem they wrote as their birthday present to her.
We are just about ready to start serving the food when the administrator pulls up and the whole party’s dynamics change. Quickly, even though he doesn’t ask for any special treatment, the attention is all on the main table (Lena insisted that he must be seated at a special table with only the upper crust of the party). Amanda is stressed by his arrival, but keeps her cool, chatting it up with him and the missionaries while I run around making sure there are clean plates and utensils for them.
Everyone who was gathered inside Amanda living room for the first part of the party.
Amanda and I taking a second to pose for a moment... Another shot that I really like!
Amanda opening up her presents! These are a few wood carvings given to her by her neighbor.
As soon as the missionaries, administrator, and bosses step out the door, the house lights go out, the music goes up, and the polite dinner gathering is transformed into a big dance party.
Amanda dancing it up towards the end of the night sporting her new sunglasses...
Amanda the next morning NOT VERY HAPPY looking at the disastrous aftermath of her birthday party.
