Sugar, Gin, and Xima

Saturday February 20th, 2010 – 2 weeks till my birthday!
This morning Marcelino, an “activista” at Nauela’s hospital, and I went to a church gathering in the neighboring community of Mehecane (Me-Hey-Kan-Ee), about a 30 or 45 minute bike ride out of town. Mehecane is a unique oasis that you can easily spot from far away, even from my house now that I know what to look for, because of the tall eucalyptus trees that line its main walkway. In a village of no more than 200 people, there are 3 water faucets with a never-ceasing stream of water pouring out onto the ground below and irrigating the nearby gardens. Many of the community’s houses are even outfitted with glass windows, tight fitting doors, and cement floors. It is a diamond in the rough to be sure, but one needs not look past the center of the town to see where all of this relative wealth comes from. Indeed, towering above the rest of the town’s constructions, only to be out done by the decades old eucalyptus trees, is the town’s Igreja União Baptista.

The small village of Mehecane has a rich history, deeply rooted in the rise of the protestant churches of Zambezia. Its running water and many of the other housing improvements, are largely funded by the donations from international religious based organizations and in the past decade, missionaries who made home in the rural village. A tremendous amount of effort has gone into making Mehecane what it is today. The running water is thanks to over 3 kilometers of piping that starts all the way at the springhead on Mount Malapa, the same mountain that Wilson and I climbed a few weeks earlier. Additionally, the town’s large religious centerpiece is a result of 10 years of construction that required the town to be very creative when hauling in materials because the roads leading up to the town are suspect at best. Despite Mehecane’s current appearance, it is still just a shadow of what it was decades ago.

Rolling into town on my bike, dripping from head to toe and panting like a dog, the first person to greet Marcelino and I was the local União Baptista pastor, Vicente. In a matter of minutes, he courted me around the entire village, eventually leading me to his house for a cup of tea. While sipping tea from his seemingly old-of-place, ornate tea set, Pastor Vicente was kind enough to entertain me with stories about Mehecane’s troubled history. Having grown up in the area and experienced its ups and down, he conveyed the story with an incredible amount of passion, pride, and sorrow. Facing the old colonial era school house pointing, he informed me that it was the only building left standing when we came back to the area after the war in the early 90’s and became the starting point for the reconstruction effort that has begin going on ever since.

I could see him reaching back in his memories as he began to recount his childhood, trying to give me a better idea of what tremendous destruction happened during the war. Before the civil war, he told me, the area surrounding Mehecane was a mecca of agriculture production (there used to be tractors, farm equipment, etc), commerce, and education (Mehecane, despite its rural location, was home to a seminary that educated most of Zambezia’s first protestant preachers). What a huge fall, but also a great recovery thus far, I thought.

As a matter of fact, Mehecane’s recovery has been largely a result of people like Pastor Vicente who have refused to give up on the community. He is a great example, yet sadly an exception, because he left the rural community to finish his education, but returned after finishing his studies to come back to help out where he grew up. And he’s far from done!

As we hungrily stuffed down our white rice and pinto beans served up for lunch, his eyes lit up with passion while talking about the plans that he has in the works for the community. A youth group that teaches kids life skills through sports and arts, an expansion/improvement of the primary school, and a woodshop to raise money for the increasing number of local orphans due to HIV/AIDS… Needless to say, I hope to be working with him in the near future.

On a random side note, and as a complete coincidence, I happened to visit Mehecane on the same weekend that the former local missionaries were back in town visiting (imagine a town of 200, in the middle of nowhere Mozambique, getting a visit from two sets of foreigners on the same day… Crazy!). Thus, in the afternoon, Pastor Vicente made sure I had the opportunity to visit with them at their old house to sit down for a while and chat. As it turns out, the two missionaries, Steven and Joanna, are from England and have two young children that they are carting all around northern Mozambique with them. They are now stationed in Cuamba in the Niassa Province of Mozambique, but are taking an extended holiday from their site to visit old acquaintances and making deliveries to some of the rural churches along the way. I briefly lamented to the them about the difficulties of learning the local language, Lomwe, and they obliged by agreeing to drop off some learning materials for me in Gurue with a missionary there named Foster. One of their side tasks while visiting the area was to provide new Portuguese/Lomwe hymnals to the União Baptista churches, so as I walked away from the meeting, I did so with a book in hand and future visit to Gurue in mind.

On our way back to Nauela from Mehecane, Marcelino continued the history lesson where Pastor Vicente left off by casually informing me that the city of Nauela used to not be known as Nauela at all. It was the colonizing Portuguese, who didn’t really understand the locals when they first arrived, who missed the actual name of the village (Muheewa) and simply named the post after the closest mountain called Nauela. Marcelino went on, letting me know that the small mountain of Nauela was actively used as a fort during the civil war. When I showed interest in all of this new information, Marcelino turned around his bike and insisted that we go up the mountain to make a quick visit. Sure enough, when we climbed to the top of the mountain we found some empty, old ammunition shells and large scraps of metal used for makeshift barracks. Marcelino, seemingly uninterested in historical significance of site, kicked at the rusted metal and tossed several of the empty shells down on the ground. We watched as they rolled off the side of rocky mountaintop to the corn fields below, and I thought to myself that it’s such a shame that a site like this is being left to waste. Regardless of his interest in the site, I know that the mountain is representative of something that had such a HUGE impact on Mozambique’s recent history (especially in this area) and I hope that the local people are able to remember and appreciate that for generations to come. We’ll see!

Sunday, February 21st, 2010 – Only 13 days till my birthday!
This morning, my church congregation visited the other União Baptista down in Eiope to participate in a joint service in order to kick off the local youth week. Great, right?! Well, yes… the only problem being that I didn’t even know about it until I showed up at my church’s doorsteps seeing it completely deserted! After asking around, I found out about the impromptu change of plans and decide to hightail it down the road to the other church. I quickly ran home, threw my bible and new handy-dandy hymnal in my day bag and jumped on my trusty “made in India” Hero bike to try and make it to the service before it started. Now let me give you a glimpse into one of my growing pains thus far here in Nauela… the perception of distance… while the trek from Nauela to Eiope may not seem long if you are in a car, or biking leisurely, but when you are peddling in a hurry (even going downhill most of the way) it is quite the trek! Oooh Mozambique!

In typical Mozambican fashion, the service started and ran late (that allowed me to get there on time but I don’t know if it was worth it because the service didn’t end till nearly 2pm!), granted it was largely because of the hassle of getting everyone crammed inside the small church and having ALL the representatives from BOTH churches sing and speak to the large audience. I usually don’t mind the longer church services, the music is beautiful and, when they go off on long speeches in Lomwe, it gives me down time to reflect. Today, however, I was hungry –my stomach said it was starving, but it’s weak- and the pastor of the home church was giving the second sermon of the day in Lomwe (the pastor of my church had already given his sermon). To make things worse, as he rambled on he showed no signs of slowing down, much less stopping. Looking back, it was probably not a good thing the think/feel, but everything (even the audience’s laughter) seemed to incite a growing annoyance that was building up inside of me. “Why can’t it just end already!”, I thought. I contemplated simply getting up and walking out of the service like so many Mozambicans do, but I figured that my departure would be more noted than that of a normal churchgoer. In the end, I kept my butt planted on the cement bench, defeated, with my mouth closed, trying to think good thoughts.

The service finally ended and the sardine-packed churchgoers poured out of the church relieved and quickly fled back to their houses to prepare a late lunch. I no sooner had left the church than had mounted my bike was off, back uphill, on the way towards Nauela. I was sailing along and felt pretty good considering everything, but about halfway home I ran into Beljour, one of my favorite students, and stopped to chat. As we wrapped up the conversation, he pleaded with me to give him a boleia . I deliberated, “GAH! Starving and having to ferry a relatively heavy boy on my bike, uphill?! No way!” Something in the way he asked me though caused a momentary lapse of rationality and I somehow agreed. Needless to say we didn’t make it too far, though I must say that I held my own for a while!

Thursday March 4th, 2010–Sunday March 7th, 2010 – Happy 24th Birthday to me!
I just got home and I can barely keep my eyes open, so I know I’ll be writing this entry over the next several days. I just want to get a few of my thoughts down before I nod off to sleep and forget some of the awesome things that happened to me in the past several days… Before I start, I just wanted to say that, I got to check the internet today and I saw all the love you guys sent me. Thank you so much! It really made my day! You are all so awesome :-) I wish I could have been in the states with all of you to celebrate, but at the same time I want you all to know that I had a great time here and if you continue reading on, you’ll here exactly what I did…

Well for some time now I have heard numerous stories about the fabled Mount Namuli located in the neighboring district of Gurue, just outside the city of Gurue . To the everyday tourist visiting Mozambique, a trip to Mount Namuli, being the second tallest mountain in the country surrounded by arguably the most beautiful, rich countryside in all of Mozambique, is a must. The mountain isn’t easy to reach, however, and is also a very important symbol in the traditional folklore/beliefs of the area thus it’s an important destination for the trailblazing explorer and/or local as well.

The night before my trip to Gurue to climb the mountain, my friend Wilson described to me how many people in the area believe(d) that all human beings can trace their ancestry to Mount Namuli. It was there, they say, that humans evolved from monkeys and later dispersed in all directions, speaking the different, yet similar, languages of the region. For that reason and more, the mountain ascent is surrounded by a shroud of traditional beliefs regarding the spirits/ghosts who live on the mountain. In fact, in order to climb the mountain, one must bring sugar, gin, and xima to the Queen of the mountain and ask for her to perform a traditional ceremony (using those three elements) to give you the right to hike up the mountain.

Chapa Time
On the morning of my long awaited birthday trip to Gurue, I woke up to the sound of rain beating down on my house’s tin roof. I’ve never heard a machine gun in real life, but I couldn’t imagine that one would be louder or faster. You see, there is no ceiling between my house’s metal roofing and the interior, so I often feel as if I’m inside a large drum when the rain is pelting the rooftop. In fact, the tremendous echoing noise within the house often misleads one into thinking that it is actually raining significantly harder outside than it really is. Regardless, it DEFINITELY was not raining lightly and that signaled that it was going to be a rough ride later in the day on the muddy road to Gurue.
By the time the late morning rolled around, the rain had stopped and the clouds directly overhead even show signs of dispersing a little to let the sun come out and dry up some of the mud on the road. The motoristas must have also been as optimistic as I because eventually they started coming in bunches from Moloque towards Gurue.
The chapa ride started fine, I might even say pleasant for the first several miles, because I got to sit down inside the truckbed on a sack of rice. Not 15 minutes outside of Milevane, however, the weather took a turn for the worse as it started drizzling, then raining, getting progressively harder as we continued along. The passengers in the back of the truckbed immediately formed an intimate bond as we found a plastic tarp and huddled closely together in the back of the open back chapa. Looking around at the faces only a foot or so away from mine, I felt like I was a kid again playing “fort”, but in an weird/awkward situation where for some reason we were all remaining silent.

So try and picture this: here we are sitting in the back of a pickup truck, covering ourselves with a plastic tarp while the rain is coming down harder and harder, when all of a sudden, the truck jerks the right, then overcorrects to the left and we’re brought to an abrupt halt in the deep, muddy roadside ditch.

The motorista tried in vain to get the car unstuck without any help, but in the end it took all the passengers getting down and pushing (along with the help of 40 or so kids from a nearby elementary school who fled their morning classes to see what all the commotion was about...) to get us out of the ditch and straightened back out on the road. Momentarily standing up in the back of the truck, I waved goodbye to the kids and took the photo below as we started up the engine and headed out. The kids were happy, we were happy, it was a one of those warm, fuzzy instants that corny movies always end on. The magical moment didn’t last too long, however, because about 100 feet down the road the truck lost traction on a muddy incline and we came sliding back down to almost exactly where we had begun moments earlier! At that moment, every person involved had their own opinion of what we should do to fix the problem, but nothing we did could rid us of Mother Nature’s wrath taking form as an endless supply of mud filling up the road. Eventually someone from above must have taken pity on us because the rain began to slow and before too long stopped all together. After the road dried a little, we were able to shovel (where the heck did the hoe come from you might ask? I don’t know!) some of the accumulated mud out of the road’s worn tire trenches and, with the help of everyone (including the school children again), we finally made it up the hill and were on our way.


The group of elementary school kids who helped get my chapa out of the mud.

I arrived late in Gurue, clothes still wet from the rain and caked in the mud, but was able to prepare a pretty schnazy guacamole mix served up with freshly baked bread before calling it a day and laying down on the esteira that Camille and Aditi set up for me on their living room floor. I know that may sound rough, sleeping on a straw mat on the floor, but looking back on it, it probably just better mentally prepared me for what lay ahead for the next several days during the hike up Namuli.

To make a long story short, we (Noemi, Yohko, and I) didn’t actually get to climb to the top of Mount Namuli, but it was still a very beautiful, albeit tiring, two day hike to the mountain’s base and back. That said, what’s fun about making a long story short?! Plus, this way you’ll have some text with all the photos I’m about to show you! So here it goes…

Noemi, Yohko and I met up with our local guide, known to all PCVs as Rambo!, just after sunrise and were out crossing the famous tea fields surrounding Gurue by 6 after having bought our 3 day food rations on our way out of town. Heading towards Namuli from the city, you pass through the tea fields via a main corridor that acts as a highway for people coming into Gurue from the surrounding countryside bringing their products to sell in the city. We hadn’t even made it halfway through the fields by the time we realized why Rambo wasn’t so worried about having enough snacks for the trip. We were constantly coming across people carrying bananas, pineapples, oranges, avocados, beans, peanuts, you name it into the city. With all the agriculture production, it’s easy to see why Gurue has grown so big (in addition to the tea company’s investments) and why the city has such a diverse and plentiful market.


A group of people coming into Gurue from the surrounding countryside. PS - the mountain pictured in the back is not Mount Namuli.


Farmers carry 50lbs bags of pinto beans into the city of Gurue.


Yohko fording a small river while passing through the tea fields.

As a side note, the tea fields seamlessly stretch out across the valley farther than the eye can see (see panoramic below), but they are actually divided by invisible property boundaries between 6 different owners. That said, the owners all pool the products together to make the well-known-in-Mozambique brand “Cha de Gurue”. Apparently, though, the Gurue tea leaves also serve as fillers for other larger tea companies around the world.


A sweet panoramic view of the tea fields just outside of Gurue.

Hiking up through the mountain pass to get to Namuli, you are welcomed into the next valley by the dark black, fertile land all those passing farmers are blessed enough to grow their crops on. A beautiful sight indeed! Once you make it through the pass, however, a bummer is the fact that the mountains block Gurue’s cell phone tower and thus for a majority of the trip I’d have to be without cell phone service (not usually a big deal, but sad because I wouldn’t have service on my birthday, thus separating myself from my friends and family back home…)


Noemi and Yohko hiking through the mountain pass.


Yohko, Rambo and I taking a break right after making it through the mountain pass.

Despite the mountain’s proximity, when you are in the city of Gurue you can’t actually see Mount Namuli. It’s not until a good hour’s hike after the mountain pass, in fact, that you get your first glimpse of the towering peak. It was such a good feeling to see it for the first time (almost a high as if we’d already climbed to the top if it)! That feeling, however, turned into one of anxiousness as the mountain seemed to always remain just out of reach, even after hours of hiking through the foothills surrounding it. As a matter of fact, after first seeing Mount Namuli it took us 5 more hours of intense hiking before we made it to base camp to spend the night. Before entering the compound, we snapped a few half-hearted victory photos of us with the mountain in the background just before it was swallowed up by the incoming storm clouds.


Noemi, Yohko and I being so happy to finally see Mount Namuli. After a long morning's hike, we thought we were so close, but we were actually so far!


Noemi and Yokho eating some cooked sweet potatoes (I think?). Trying to get those carbs in...


A community of crazy ants on a bridge we passed. They are forming a "highway" on the outside for other ants to be herded through on the inside.


Yohko and Noemi play fighting on the way to base camp. Sooo tired, yet so much longer to go!


Me resting and hanging out on a large boulder enjoying the mountain stream.


Noemi, Yohko, and I just as we are arriving to the base of Mount Namuli.

We finally arrived to the Queen of the mountain’s house just as the sun was setting (it took us about 10 hours to get to the base, while Rambo says he can usually make it in 6!). Coming up to the compound, we were greeted by an excited, red eyed, drunk man who hurried us along into the queen’s kitchen (where we’d be spending the night on esteiras laid out on the floor). We sank to the ground exhausted, letting the dirt floor absorb our burdening day packs as we all proceeded to literally pass out from the day’s taxing journey.

I woke up an hour or so later and noticed that the drunk man had left us (all passed out asleep) and my first reaction was to check and make sure all my things were still with me. I was still rummaging through my backpack when the queen finally came in and greeted us by bringing some dinner (xima made from cassava topped with a matapa sauce).

All night long the storm clouds never let up, pouring rain down on mountain. When we woke up the next morning, the Queen refused to let us climb the mountain (saying she’d feel guilty if any one of us got hurt while trying to climb the wet rocks). That said, she was very apologetic and assured us that if we came between June-August (the dry season) we’d have a much better chance of being able to climb the mountain. I think that on the surface we were all bummed to be turned away after so much work, especially right at the base of the mountain. Deep down though, we didn’t fight too hard with the Queen because we were all already extremely sore and knew we still had to make the journey back into town.


A morning look at our sleep arrangements with Mount Namuli covered in rain clouds in the back.


Yohko trying to sleep in at the base of Mount Namuli in Queen's kitchen on an comfy esteira.

In the end, things turned out for the best. We packed up camp after a quick breakfast and started toward the city in the light rain. After a few hours the sun broke through the clouds and the weather remained nice for the rest of our journey home. As we climbed back down through the mountain pass, I picked back up cell phone service and surprised several people with birthday phone calls. The last leg of the journey, making it through Gurue back to Camille and Aditi’s house was definitely the hardest past of the whole trip. We were so close and yet so far! We took breaks every 10 minutes and a leisurely walk through the city that normally lasts 20-30 minutes took nearly an hour! Regardless, I got to be in Gurue for my birthday and the Gurue girls + Kat made me a card and a cake, decked out with ICING! Despite my exhaustion, I was content and felt so loved!


Noemi, Yohko and I standing at the mountain pass with the Gurue in the background.


Looking down at the Gurue valley from the mountain pass.


Gurue is so beautiful and I am tossing in my two cents by saying that this could be there new postcards!

Finishing Up The First Three Months At Site...

Friday December 11th, 2009
Some lost, but now found, pictures from the Supervisors Conference in Nampula

"Birds of Paradise only flock twice!" Josh posing on top of our Nampula hotel.


Panoramic view of Nampula City at sunset.

Saturday December 26th, 2009

(Backing up a bit to include a story that I wasn’t able to finish in time for the last batch)

I just got to my site 4 days ago and here I am already leaving town, albeit only for an afternoon. I woke up this morning at 5am, hurriedly put a scrunched-up t-shirt over my head and went out the front door, stumbling as left the house on my way to the machamba (garden). I had only taken a few steps into my machamba before I turned around when realizing that I had forgotten my work gloves back inside the house. While retreating through the front door in full stride, I ducked my head to make it in the severely undersized, 5ft doorway, but miscalculating by an inch or two, I ended up ramming the top of my head into the doorframe’s edge. Alarmed and dazed, I did all I could to keep from yelling out some expletives at the top of my lungs, biting my lip until tasting blood and wailing my closed fists against the house’s inner cement walls (it REALLY hurt!). After a minute or so, which seemed like an hour, the pain began to subside. Before heading back out to work in the machamba, however, I decided to take a seat and rest for a bit. As I sat there in my comfortable living room recliner admiring the growing bump on the top of my head, I was struck with the sudden urge to make a day trip to the neighboring city of Gurue, only 2-3 hours away by car. It would be a nice escape from the recent shock of moving into my community and a late Christmas present of sorts by getting to see all the volunteers who live in and around Gurue, I thought. Now don’t get me wrong, the trip actually had a legitimate purpose and needed to happen soon, either today or tomorrow, because the FGH driver is planning on taking me to buy a bike on Monday and here I was with no money and no bank in town.

Just a few moments later, the decision had been finalized in my head and I found myself back outside my house, in dirty gardening clothes, asking the neighbors how I could go about catching a chapa (my first one in Mozambique alone) to Gurue. The owners of my house were kind enough to not only tell me how to catch the chapa, but went as far as accompanying me to the street and waiting until a chapa passed by to help me signal that I wanted a ride. I got lucky and a chapa passed by after only 10 minutes or so of waiting and, before I knew it, I had boarded the chapa and was barreling through the mountains.

Since my trip to Gurue, I have looked through several travel guides about Mozambique and noticed that in many of them the town of Nauela is, predictably, left out. However, in a few guides it is mentioned as a nice stop along the scenic road between Gurue and Alto Moloque. One guide even went as far to say that the road is perhaps the most beautiful in all of Mozambique. While I still haven’t been to much of Mozambique, after this one trip to Gurue I can’t imagine a road that is much more scenic and/or beautiful. With omnipresent curves that make the Blue Ridge Parkway seem like a straightaway, the dirt road thrusts breathtaking views of distinct looking mountains in your face at every bend, each offering their own unique beauty. That said, while I’m sure that the trip would be nothing but pleasurable for anyone traveling in the comforts of their own private vehicle, in an open-back chapa (a quarter-ton truck that taxis people around) with 30 individuals, baggage, all topped off with a few chickens and/or goats crammed into the truck’s bed, the ride becomes somewhat less appealing!

The chapa that was heading to Gurue had left earlier that day from Nampula (4-5 hours away) and had already been loaded to the brim with people and their belongings by the time it passed through Nauela. Thus, when I finally jumped on, I had few options of where to sit, but managed to find a small space along the truck’s outer edge to plop down. Speeding along on the curvy, uneven mountain roads going between 30-40mph, I spent most of the trip jolting back and forth in fear, teetering on the 2 inch thick truckbed rim between one fate of crashing into the sardine-packed truck center and another of falling out onto the uninviting, rocky pathway racing below. I’ve been told that the drive between Nauela and Gurue normally takes between 2-3 hours, but it took nearly 4 hours today because the driver kept stopping to try to get more passengers on, even when people had already not been able to get on at previous stops. Everyone moaned and groaned when the driver pulled over to try and cram another passenger on, but I stayed quiet, secretly hoping that we could squeeze another person in and which would make it that much more tightly packed, thus making me more secure on my ledge with less risk of falling out. This desire, however, was countered by the fact that the old truckbed’s rims that I was sitting on were being held upright by two metal cords that were joined together in the middle of the truck bed by a ½ inch metal nut. Sitting there and saying a little pray, I thought to myself: “Here I am, after all the things I’ve gone through in my life, and the only thing keeping me from flying off around one of those turns is this feeble piece of metal?! Oh well… Nothing I can do now. Hopefully at least it was made in South Africa!” ;)

Looking around at the Mozambicans I was traveling with, I could tell that I wasn’t the only one a little unnerved by the rough stretches of road and luckily I didn’t have to go it alone during the whole trip. Toughing out the tight mountains curves sitting next to me was a peculiar looking man (not Mozambican) wearing a long, dark black robe and cap traditionally worn by Muslims. After several minutes on the chapa, we got to talking and I found out that he had been traveling for nearly 4 days from his home in northern Tanzania, but, as his final destination was Gurue, his trip was almost done. So even though these were cramped conditions and he was wearing heavy, black clothing in the scorching sun, he was in good spirits. In fact, after chatting sporadically with him for an hour or so, I ventured to inquire about his clothing choice for traveling and he informed me that it was actually well thought out and planned. He went on to explain to me how the long, flowing robe kept the sun off of him while still allowing a cool breeze to penetrate and keep him cool when it was hot and when it was cool it kept him insulated against the cutting wind. Additionally, the black cloth made the dirt that had been accumulating over the past 4 days (he hadn’t changed clothes since he left his home in Tanzania) less apparent and would be easier to clean when finally getting to Gurue. Definitely a seasoned traveler! Feeling the sun beating down on my folded, exposed legs and seeing the dust accumulating on my baize shirt, I was already convinced that my days of traveling in shorts and without sunblock were over.

The afternoon in Gurue was relatively calm and uneventful. I met up with several PCVs, withdrew money at the ATM to buy my bike, bought a few fruits and veggies that you can’t find in Nauela, and jumped on a chapa that got me back home just as the sun was disappearing behind the mountains to the west. The chapa on this leg of the journey actually wasn’t a chapa at all! Instead, it was a large, flat-bed truck loaded down with tons of rice and cement, whose driver was kind enough to let me ride along on top of his cargo. The return trip was really nice because I not only felt comfortable and secure, but, while lying down across the rice sacs, I was able to admire the 360 degree mountain views in the late afternoon sun as the wind blew across my face. Good finish to a long day!

Monday January 11th, 2010
This morning I woke up and ran into Olympio, the 14 year old son of Wiado (the baker who lives next door, pronounced “Why-do”), as I was going through his yard on my way to buy some fresh bread. We greeted each other with the traditional introductions, “Good Morning.”; “Good Morning!”; “How are You?”; “I’m good, but I don’t know how you are?”; “I’m good, Thank you” “Thank you!” (everyone one says they don’t know how you are doing and asks you, even if the person is addressing a line of people and everyone knows darn well how the person is doing!), but wanting to go a little deeper, I started talking about my recent trip to Gurue. In passing, I assumingly asked him if he had ever been to Gurue and quickly he looked down at his feet as he informed me that he actually hadn’t. Swiftly recovering, however, he proudly stated that once he had been to Alto Moloque, but didn’t really like the heavy-traffic, dusty city that much.

The conversation was quite a reality check for me. All this coming from an adolescent who was born and raised on the connecting road between the two large cities, each only a few hours away… I mean, here I am saying that I’m trying to integrate into the community, meanwhile everyone sees me sashaying around the province (Gurue and Quelimane), going to and fro without showing much worry of money and/or purpose. How’s that for integration :-/! In reality, I think the notion that I would flippantly go and spend so little time in Gurue is more jolting to the members of the community than the fact that I came from the other side of the world to volunteer in their village (I’ve shown some neighbors the U.S. on a world map, pointing out the size of Mozambique versus how far away my home is, but I think it’s too abstract for a lot of them to appreciate). Sitting here writing this out, I’ve been trying to juxtapose my experiences with those of my neighbors and realize the implications of my relatively frequent traveling. It was sobering at first, but has become more so after spending time later in the day with his father, Wiado…

As I was saying earlier, I was on my way to Wiado’s house to buy bread when I ran into Olympio and had the aforementioned conversation. Well, after buying several pieces of bread, Wiado invited me to go on a bike ride with him to the neighboring town of Mugema to buy some flour for tomorrow’s bread making. When I was first invited to go on the bike ride I didn’t really find it strange that we were going all the way to Mugema to buy flour, even though it is regularly sold at the Nauela market. No, at that moment I was too overwhelmed with the excitement of just getting out, exploring a little, and buying a few things from a bigger market to really think of much else.

Walking my bike up the first LARGE hill (those of you reading this from Gainesville, think Shands hill, but bigger and longer!), however, I finally began to think about how hard this journey was going to be and, in turn, question the trip’s purpose (I think our minds are trained to think about easier ways out, especially when we are struggling with the task at hand). I began to picture the Nauela marketplace in my mind and could vividly see (or was I imagining it) a large bag a flour sitting next to the young man who is always selling onions. After a few more minutes, I was sure of it. There definitely IS flour at the Nauela market! Yet here we were, going all the way to Mugema (about 5 HILLY miles away) to buy the same stuff. Vexed by all these thoughts, I began to voice my opinions out loud. Wiado laughed for a moment before agreeing with my observations, but then calmly continued on to inform me that he (and most bread makers in Nauela) bikes all the way from Nauela to Mugema to buy a 50lbs sack of flour for 390 metacais (or mets), which is 10 mets cheaper than what they sell it for in Nauela (btw, 30 mets ≈ $1 USD). His simple words crushed me and only continued to weigh heavier upon me as he went on to describe how once he has bought the flour, he then has to strap the 50 lbs sack to his bike and lug it all the way back to Nauela. Even that doesn’t paint the full picture, however, because once he finally has all the ingredients in his home, he then has to wake up at 2am to bake the bread in order to get to the market in time for the morning rush, selling a sack’s worth of bread for a profit of about 300 mets (only $10!).

After getting past all the hills and making it into Mugema’s marketplace, Wiado and I momentarily split up to do our shopping separately. I began searching for a small part for my bike and in no time at all I had found exactly what I was looking for. While handing the change over to the vender (it only cost 2 mets), Wiado came up behind me and held a small valve in his hand, saying that WHEN I COULD GET THE MONEY TOGETHER I should buy this other, more durable upgrade that costs 10 mets (can you imagine that?! The idea of having to really WORK to get 30 cents together). I was speechless, but manage to nod my head acknowledging what he had told me. I walked a few steps away from the booth dazed, but managed to choke out the fact that I was done shopping for the day and we could head home whenever he was ready.

On the way home, we got to talking about home construction in the area and Wiado informed me that a typical 4 meter by 5 meter house requires around 3000 mud blocks, each costing 1 met. It’s not hard math to see that a house costs 3000 mets, or about $100, to build (think about that next time you buy something expensive. How many houses is this worth?!) For me, this really hit home when I started thinking about my guitar, which I just recently bought here in Mozambique for 4000 mets. In short, my guitar is worth more, or at least costs more, than many people’s homes in the community!

It was a rough day, full of realizations that deepened my understanding about the financial struggles of the area. That said, it was a really good day too and I wouldn’t want it to have been any other way. I feel so blessed to have had this realization so soon into my PC experience and so happy that my relationship with Wiado seems to be growing that much stronger.

Tuesday January 19th, 2010
Today my neighborhood had an unexpected visit from an organization based out of Quelimane that led the community members in an informal lesson/discussion about how we can take charge of keeping our water pump functioning and well maintained. Observing from the side, I quickly noticed that the audience was overwhelmingly composed of women, roughly 90% of the crowd was female, and the few males that did attend stayed completely silent throughout. The purpose of this meeting was to educate and I was disappointed that the men of the community were so underrepresented. (This is a stark contrast to the second meeting that happened in early February where some paperwork had to be done and men from all over the neighborhood flocked to see what was going on, while the same women who participated weeks earlier in the discussions sank away).

This brings up the interesting, ever important topic of gender roles here in Alto Zambezia. Even though the local society is matrilineal (family heritage is traced from mother to daughter rather and from father to son), the gender roles are still largely the same as elsewhere around the world where the society is male-centered. During my short period of time in Nauela, I’ve observed that the women in the community tend to have domain over domestic matters, while the men tend to have control over monetary and political matters. Everyone has to work, there’s no opinion to just stay at home, unless you are well off. Instead, mothers have to strap their babies to their backs via a capulana sash and carry them around while they doing their daily tasks.

Friday January 22nd, 2010
I talked to my brother Bryan tonight, telling him about the organization who came and educated the community about maintaining our water pump, and he jumped in saying that an organization visited his church just this previous Sunday asking for donations to build water pumps in Africa. He went on to tell me how he can’t help but wonder how many water pumps, if any, these organizations put in and how much of a difference it makes.

Well in case you’ve ever have doubts, I can tell you this: I am now using one of those water pumps, there are tons scattered throughout the district, and they make a HUGE difference in the lives of the people in the community. Most organizations dig the wells 50-100 meters deep and this practically guarantees that people have a steady supply of clean drinking water, even during the dry season. I can’t help but compare my situation to that of the city of Macuba, Zambezia’s second largest city (I think). After visiting my friend Noemi at her site in Macuba, I consider my community so blessed to not be somewhere where people rely on well water that typically is clouded with mud.

I’ve heard stories from my neighbors saying that everyone in the community used to have to get (muddy) water from the Malapa River, which is about a mile away, and then carry to water back uphill to their houses. Now, the water pump is located right across the street (for me and my neighbors) and really quick at filling up your water containers when compared to a bucket well.

As a capstone to all this talk about water, if you choose to give money to an organization that is going to be installing water pumps around the world, I’d encourage you to research the organization to see what percentage of the donations actually go to the pump construction, how long they’ve been doing it/how many pumps they’ve installed in that time, and what is there plan for pump maintenance.

I want to draw particular attention to that last part because there are SO MANY water pumps out here in Zambezia that break down and communities have to revert back to their old, contaminated water sources because there has been no long-term plan for the maintenance of the pump. In fact, here in Nauela (a relatively urban area compared to other areas with pumps) the plan involves each family who uses the pump to pay 2 mets per month towards (in other locations it is a per usage fee of 1 met per container). Personally, I don’t think that this contribution will be enough for sustainability of our pump (because the pump will almost surely break down in the next year and parts are expensive!), but it’s a start! We’ll see how things go over the next two years. Hopefully I’ll continue to have a good water source. I mean, I complain about no/little electricity and cell phone service, but if the water pump breaks!? I’d really be struggling! In closing, please keep me and our community’s water pump in your prayers!

Saturday January 23rd, 2010
A hike up one of Nauela’s surrounding peaks has been in my mind ever since I arrived at site in late December. Recognizing that I have just completed my first month at site, I figured what better way to celebrate than to get some people together and finally climb one. After asking around to find out who was interested in accompanying me and which mountain we should climb, my friend Wilson, the preventative medicine agent at the local hospital, ended up joining me on an assent up Mount Malapa.

Mount Malapa shares its name with the Malapa River because, near the top of the mountain, a natural spring penetrates the rocky terrain that forms the headwaters of the river. Although the river is quite muddy, community members assured me that the water at the spring is clean and safe to drink (a local mission actually gets its water directly from the spring via a long tube system) and thus the spring would make a nice resting/refreshing point during the day’s hike.

After a late start (Wilson was supposed to come to my house at 7am to borrow the owner of my house’s bike, but it seems that no one here has a watch but me!), Wilson and I hopped on our bikes and made our way to a small community outside of Nauela called Rocha. Writing down that last sentence made it sound so easy that I actually laughed to myself. Trust me though when I say that it wasn’t THAT easy. No, we had to ask directions several times along the way and, because of the mountain terrain and bad road/path conditions, it took a while getting there.

One great thing about December and January in Zambezia is the overwhelming supply of mangos, courtesy of the Portuguese who lined the rural streets with them decades ago. Although they can be annoying if they are dropping out of the trees into your yard and rotting, they are such a nice, juicy, and (best of all) FREE snack. I delve into all this because along the way to the mountain, as we both started to feel the midmorning heat, we decided it best to pull off the path under the shade of a mango tree and help ourselves to some of the ultra-fresh fruit. After 3 or 4 mangos each, Wilson wandered over to a nearby house and asked a gawking woman for water to wash our hands. The woman hesitated, keeping her eyes intently on my, but after Wilson probed her a second time, she kindly obliged (people are SO generous here when you ask them for something. I’m not sure about this, but I think that many people don’t have much to give, so when they are asked to give something they have, they are excited to be able to offer it to someone else… plus it’s part of the culture too).

After squeezing our way through the narrow footpaths of Rocha, Wilson and I finally arrived at the base of the mountain, but had to stash our bikes in an inconspicuous location before starting off on our hike upward. With our bikes safely resting in a hidden trench close to the water’s edge, we began our assent, feeling pretty hardcore as we trudged through the mountain’s fields of sprouting corn and butter beans. I remember thinking to myself, “Man! Now we really are doing some exploring!”

Looking back on it, I know that I should have seen what was coming next… We had almost made it to the top of the mountain, but coming around the trunk of large tree we were greeting with the staring gazes of 20 or so people from the local community who were preparing the side of the mountain to be planted with more beans.

What an ego deflator! Not only did they climb up the mountain as if it were nothing (I’m sure they do it every day) they also got up here with a hoe slung over the shoulder and then began a long day of working in the field! Needless to say, the local farmers were quite surprised to see the two of us, especially some tall, bearded white guy, come meandering up through their recently prepared fields. We explained the purpose of our journey and at first only received blank facial expressions as a response. It’s understandable though because people here in my community (and from what I hear from other volunteers, around Mozambique) don’t tend to explore simply for the joy of exploring. Sensibly they probably see it as a waste of time, effort, and precious fat reserves!

Nevertheless, the people eventually welcomed our presence (for whatever reason we had come) and assured us that they had no problem with us continuing our trek to the top. With their blessing, Wilson and I continued to climb the mountain, albeit a lot slower because, when the fields ended, the mountain was largely overgrown with a type of sawgrass that absolutely destroyed my lower half, leaving slash marks running up to my knees on both of my legs. All complaining aside, the view from the top of the mountain (pictured in my last blog entry) was a generous reward for a morning’s hike. In the end, we even got the sense of accomplishment of really doing some exploring, if only for the last few hundred feet, as we trail blazed a path to the top.

We lingered at the mountain summit for almost an hour, enjoying the view and talking about previous adventures in our lives. As we stared out across the mountainous terrain, we could see typically hidden rain clouds crawling across an adjacent valley in the distance and decided it best to start on our way back home (even though the rain almost always seems to find a way to stay just west of Nauela in the neighboring district of Gurue). We flew down the mountainside, pausing only to say goodbye to the farmers in their bean fields and at the natural spring where we were able to fill up my nalgene bottles with some water (I was a little worried at the time of getting diarrhea or something else from this water, but I was dying of thirst at the time so I figured it would be better to get some temporary ailment rather than have a heat stroke! BTW, I haven’t still been sick since then… knock on wood!).

The trip home took a lot less time than the journey to the mountain because we didn’t have to stop every few minutes to ask for directions, but we did end up delaying a little bit because my bike was literally falling apart. First the my seat loosened and became rather wobbly so I couldn’t really sit anymore, then the left pedal fell off, the brakes stopped reacting well to my frantic tugs on the steep descents, and finally the steering wheel stiffened up and would only let me turn 10 degrees to either side. When I finally made it back to my house, I took a bath and collapsed on my bed. Before passing out for the afternoon, however, I had the frame of mind to examine my bike and noticed , while trying to see if the seat was repairable, that engraved on the seat was the following: “Made in India” and under it in bold lettering were the words “Superior Quality”. I couldn’t help but laugh to myself as a stared at my skeleton of a bike. Never again should those phrases be put together again (and that goes for you too Ronak!).

A few pictures from our hike are pictured below:

Wilson striking a typical Mozambican no-smile picture.


Me taking a break at the top of Mount Malapa to smile for the camera.


The panoramic view (already seen on this blog in an early post) from the top of Mount Malapa.


Wilson with his shirt back on, finally, surrounded by corn as we head back down the mountain.

Saturday February 6th, 2010
This past weekend I made a trip to Quelimane to see some of my fellow PCVs and then a quick stay in Murrumbala to visit my friend Amanda’s site. Although I enjoyed hanging out with other Moz 14ers in “the Q”, my favorite part was definitely hanging around with Amanda at her site. Every day we got out and explored a little bit of the city and its surroundings. One day her neighbor, Lina, even took us out on a short trek to climb a nearby mountain. I’m sure that the three of us must have been quite the spectacle because, as we were walking to the mountain, we managed to pick up a whole gang of local kids who followed us all the way up to the top. Other days were more chill; We cooked a lot of meals, pasear-ed (pasear roughly means to wander about aimlessly) and made it a habit of watching the sunsets on a nice, flat boulder about a quarter mile from her house. On the tail end of my visit, Amanda had to go into the office to work and took the opportunity to introduce me to her fellow colleagues. They were very friendly/nice and her AIR CONDITIONED office seemed like a pretty good set up, but I can tell that our PC experiences are going to be quite different. While Amanda has a job that requires her to be in the office from 7am to 4pm every day, my situation is on the other end of the spectrum, with it being almost entirely void of structure altogether. Maybe it would be nice to be somewhere in the middle… At any rate, we did a lot in only a few days and yet I came away from the trip feeling very well rested. A great trip :-)


Me and the group of locals once we reached the top of the mountain.


Me at top of corn-filled mountain


Amanda and me on top of mountain


Our slightly drunk, impromptu guide up the mountain


Panorama from the top of a mountain about an hour and a half outside Morrumbala City.



After more than a month at site I think my mind began to dull the omnipresent, tremendous beauty as a mechanism to avoid spending all of my time lost, wandering the nearby fields in awe of my surroundings. I slowly grew accustomed to the unsurprisingly beautiful sunsets and attractive scenery. , Being away from site for a few days, however, awakens your sleeping mind and makes you appreciate the area and all its intricacies as if it were the first time visiting all over again. In fact, making the evening trek from Alto Moloque to Nauela hits you in the face with beautiestness (thinking of you dad!) and will knock you down if you aren’t ready for it.

Arriving back at site from an extended trip away in the evening is never a good idea, BTW. There is so much house cleaning to get done, cooking, eating, bathing, not to even mention the “mandatory” chill time, sitting around and catching up with all the neighbors! I’m not kidding, the last task definitely was very time consuming! That said, the warm welcome from the neighbors made me feel so special, missed, and appreciated that it was definitely a positive, even if it did keep up late at night. Coming in on the chapa from Alto Moloque, I felt like I was walking back into Trinity in Gainesville with everyone shouting out, “Welcome Home!” Well, it’s definitely great to be home and it’s a really cool feeling to already have gained that sense of home here in Mozambique!

Check out the photos of my home:

A look at the front of my house with the machamba to the left and the mountains in the back. It was a cloudy day though so they aren’t as clear and beautiful as normal :-)


My living room from the front door. Laura, the previous PCV, left all the furniture for me (so nice!). My bedroom door is immediately on the right, the back right door leads to the yoga room, and the back left door goes in my bathroom.


This is another view of my living room from the back of the house.


My bedroom from the doorway (see my sweet impromptu bamboo clothes rack on the left!)


My bedroom from the window towards the bookshelf/dresser


My Office, Yoga, Guitar, bike storage room.


My bathroom… notice that they were kind enough to install toilet tank even though there’s no running water!?!

Sunday February 7th, 2010
Even after the initial warm welcome, I felt it necessary to try to make amends for my short absence by inviting several of my local counterparts over for a late Sunday lunch/early dinner of, what better than, burritos! I had been looking for an excuse to make them ever since I made them initially for my family in Namaacha, but I needed to plan ahead to gather all the ingredients, have plenty of time in order to make all the components of it, and then it would be a waste if I wasn’t making enough of each part for a whole group of people.

The welcome home burrito fest was complete with tortillas, white rice, refried beans, and loaded guacamole (filled with tomatoes, garlic, onions, and lemon juice). The only things that were really missing were some raw add-ins (tomatoes, onions, etc) and sour cream (which I just learned how I can make here!). Struck with the idea during Sunday morning’s church service, I scrambled around town in the late morning inviting everyone while the beans cooked. I ended up inviting the owners of my house, my neighbor Sisa (1 of only 3 female teachers at the local secondary school), my neighbor Waido, Wilson and Amelia (an FGH social worker) from the hospital, and Macua (the professor who is the leader of the theater group that the last PCV started). Not everyone showed up in a timely manner, but this gave me the opportunity to talk with everyone individually, not only getting to know them all better, but also dropping small bits and pieces of my ideas in their ears about their possible involvement in the community projects. All in all, I think that it was a huge success!

Below are some pictures of me and my neighbors:

Janeiro, the owner of my house, coming back after an afternoon in the fields.


From left to right, Dulce (the daughter of the owner of my house), Vanessa(the niece of the professor who lives behind my house), and Angelica (a close neighbor) hanging out in front of my house.


Me with Dulce, Angelica, and Angelica's sister.

Monday February 8th, 2010
This Friday, professor Macua and I have our first meeting scheduled with the theater group that the previous PCV started. I’ve been at site for a while now and many students already know me by just seeing me around town, but I let Macua know that I wanted to go through the school hierarchy before actually doing any planned activities with its students. Well as it turns out, a perfect opportunity to do just that was today because every Monday and Friday the local secondary school students assemble in roll call lines while the teachers and school administrators make general announcements.

I met Macua and the secondary school director in front of the school to organize our thoughts at 6:30am and at 6:45am we promptly started singing the Mozambican national anthem, followed by some short announcements, and concluding with Macua talking about the theater group and introducing me to the crowd. I smiled from ear to ear as I listened to him speak to the students about the group’s plans this year, mentioning a lot of my ideas as possible activities. He touched on the importance of not just doing theater, but rather incorporating community service projects into the group’s regular schedule by companioning orphans and vulnerable children in community and helping construct latrine for people who can’t build one themselves. It wasn’t just what he said, though. It was how he said it all. He spoke with confidence and seemed so excited to get going. After interacting with a number of people where you felt like you were pulling teeth, his enthusiasm was very refreshing and encouraging!

Tuesday February 9th, 2010
One of the first things I noticed after settling back in here in Nauela was how much my plants had grown in such a short amount of time. In fact, I planted several seeds in a flat a few weeks ago and I can see that I need to transplant most of them in the next week or two to other plant beds where they’ll have room to grow (it was taking a while to dig all of the plant beds so I went ahead and planted 9 different kinds of plants in a seedling flat so I wouldn’t miss out on the window of opportunity to plant when the weather was just right).

The leaf lettuce was by far the most crowded, so Waido and I worked this afternoon to transplant it first. I hope that it adapts well to its new environment. As I’ll be continuing to transplant most of the other seedlings during the next week, this time will be critical for the success of my garden! Check out below how my garden is looking thus far….


The first part of my machamba: pictured is lettuce, peanuts, sweet potato, corn, cucumbers, and two papaya trees


The second part of my machamba: pictured is some more sweet potato, corn, okra, beets, pumpkin, butter beans, tomatoes, and a papaya tree (accidently digitally cut out are the green peppers and eggplant).

Thursday February 11th, 2010
Today I spoke to the community leaders at their monthly meeting about the Newcastle virus that is decimating the chicken population here in Zambezia. I talked a lot about the virus and the available vaccine, but also about the importance of building proper shelter for the chickens and giving them good food. I think that the leaders were pretty impressed with the knowledge I brought forth about the problem… on that note, thank you Bryan and Dad!... we’ll see what ends up happening though!

Random thoughts:
Right now the festival of Carnival is going strong down in Quelimane, but I’m choosing to miss out on it so that I can spend more time at my site. I hear that it’s actually one of the bigger celebrations of Carnival in the world, behind Brazil of course. (I just got word from some PCVs who went down to Quelimane this past weekend for Carnival that they were actually pretty disappointed because it was more of big beer fest than anything cultural… glad I stayed at my site instead!)

Friday February 12th, 2010
Man, why did I stop playing soccer when I got into 4th grade?! I could have been the next Pele! I’m SURE of it. Okay, okay, that’s so not true, it’s not even funny. Regardless, I wish that I had stuck it out for a little bit longer so that I could play soccer better now and not look like a fool!

Ever since school started back up in Nauela, a large group of students have been getting together every afternoon at the field across from my house to play soccer. Despite my deficiencies, I went out to play soccer today and it promptly started raining. “Yes! I’m saved!”, I thought. But the rain wasn’t really coming down that hard and everyone agreed since we were all set up, we might as well tough it out through the afternoon shower. Wet or dry, I can’t really do anything with a soccer ball, so I entertained myself for most of the game by simply running up and down the field simply chasing the ball.

As a matter of fact, when my teammates had the ball, I paid careful attention to be close to the action, but not so close as to encourage them to actually pass it to me (that’s assuming they didn’t already know my complete ineptitude at the sport and were going to pass it to me). When I was playing defense, on the other hand, if you took a quick glance at me, you could have mistaken me for someone who actually knew what he was doing. I kept up with the other players (granted they were having to control a ball while running), but ultimately there was absolutely no way that I could ever get the ball away from them. And even when the ball did squirt lose (due to no result of my actions), I would inevitably haphazardly kick the ball a few feet in front of me, typically to an opposing player!

That all said, it was really fun to play and I plan to do it again in the upcoming weeks. I might even use the informal practices to try and do some health lessons during some breaks. I’ll keep you all updated!

Monday March 1st, 2010

A quick photo of me and my friends hanging out during my current trip to Quelimane:


Me, Amanda, Melissa, and Luke hanging out at a restaurant in Quelimane. This is right after Amanda got some sweet weave-in hair extensions.