Permagarden

This weekend we learned how to make a Permagarden (permanent garden).  The Permagarden technique is something universally done among Peace Corps volunteers in an effort to promote families in the community to develop and sustain their own garden, making for cheaper, healthier lifestyles and even a possible source of income.

As most you of probably already know, I am not a keen lover of gardening but for some reason the idea of setting up my own garden once I get to site sounds kind of fun! (Maybe it is because I am definitely lacking vegetables in my diet…)  But let me tell you, starting a garden from scratch is quite the process!

We started the day bright and early learning about composting.  (Dad, I can give you all kinds of tips now for your garden in the backyard!)  We used machetes and hoes to collect, chop, dig up, and gather green and brown materials to make our compost pile.  It rained super hard last night, so it was a pretty muddy adventure climbing through shrubs and gathering the materials. 

We dug a small hole about 10cm deep and then laid sticks across it to allow for some air flow.  Then we alternately added brown material, green material, soil/manure to make a pile about 1m tall.  We covered it with banana leaves to help retain some moisture and hopefully our pile will start to decompose in a few weeks to make some nice compost!

Then we turned to the garden.  The past group of volunteers had started a garden, but no one had kept it up, so we started with weeding and cleaning up the area a bit.  Then we made our planting beds, first digging up the dirt with the hoe, then forming mounds about a meter wide, then double digging and mixing in charcoal, manure, and compost with the soil, then building berms around the perimeter of the garden, and making pathways between planting beds.  Then we planted lemongrass and sweet potatoes around the perimeter in the berms which apparently are natural repellents.  I had no idea you could just plant the stalk of the plant and it will grow!  We filled our planting beds with tomatoes, corn, lettuce, and beans. 

Here is the final product!

A Few Distinct Differences

This will probably be a list that I will continuously add to, and I don’t intend to generalize for all of Mozambique, but these are a few things (not including the obvious like speaking another language or killing your own chicken) I have observed during my few weeks here in Namaacha that are distinctly different from things seen/done in the US.

·         Trash disposal: Walking down the street, it is not uncommon to pass open, unwatched fires or to see plumes of white smoke in the distance.  These are merely trash disposal methods.  So it’s probably not the greatest for the atmosphere or the air we breathe, but you gotta do something with your trash, and there is no organized trash pickup service or dump, so the Mozambique method is simply to burn it all. 

·         Passear – Passearing, or just wandering or walking, is a favorite pastime for Mozambiquans.  But my gosh do they walk slow!  And when you think slow, think about 100 times slower than what you might consider slow.

·         Strong women – The concept of chivalry and men carrying heavier things is not commonplace here, women do considerably all the heavy lifting around the house.  And by heavy lifting, I mean carrying incredible loads on top of their heads.  It really is a miraculous thing to see, women and girls carrying bundles of wood, barrels of water, buckets, whatever on their heads walking down the street, up hills, over cobblestones with the most relaxed ease!  How these things balance on their heads and how their necks can support such incredible weights, I have no idea…

·         Cars – Here, pedestrians have the right to get out of the way of vehicles.  Cars do not slow and do not really swerve but expect you if you are walking to move out of their way.  And not only do they drive on the other side of the road here, they also sometimes drive on both sides of the road.

·         Children – Once a kid has the ability to walk, they are pretty much independent.  It is not unusal to pass a group of two or three year olds playing on the street with no adult supervision in sight.  For the little kids who can’t walk yet, mothers do not let them stop them from doing things around the house and simply tie them to their backs snugly with a capulana. 

·         Obedience – Another interesting thing regarding children is their obedience towards their parents.  Never have I heard my siblings defy my parents or ask them why they had to do something.  Sometimes I can tell that they might be upset or not want to set the table or wash the dishes that night or my sister will tell my brother to do it, but never do they say no or argue with my mae.  For instance, here is a short anecdote.  The other night for dinner, my sister made a fruit salad.  Upon seeing that she had forgotten to add oranges to the salad, my mae scolded my sister telling her she made it improperly and needed to put an orange in it.  So my sister got up and went to the market and bought an orange to add to the fruit salad.  If it had been a teenager in the US, there would inevitably have been back talk and arguing, but here my sister just sucked it up and did what she was told.  When she came back, my mae asked where she had gone and said she didn’t mean for her to go right then, but even I heard her tell her to go and I don’t know much Portuguese. 

A Few American Influences I've Seen in Namaacha

·         Clothing: On Wednesdays and Saturdays, Namaacha has what is called ShopRite in which vendors gather in this outside marketplace and sell various things.  Amongst people selling food, shoes, bags, and capulanas, are many clothing sellers.  I have no idea how the vendors come to aquire the clothing, but I assume most of it is second-hand items donated by Americans.  It is not unusual to see residents walking around in shirts featuring logos of American sports teams or American universities and English phrases which make one question whether the person wearing the shirt understands the words written on it. 

·         Music: Residents here love their music and love blasting their music at all hours of the day.  My family uses the TV as their speaker, but many families have gigantic speakers in their homes making it feel like one is constantly in a discotech (club).  American music is everywhere, everything from Mariah Carey to Akon to Snoop Dogg to Katy Perry and Lady Gaga to music from the 80s.  I was walking to my class the other day and a teenage guy thinking he was all cool was walking down the road blasting Celine Dion’s “A New Day”.  My Irma sings a lot and I love when she sings along to English songs not really saying any words in English, but making sounds that are similar to what the actual words are.  Every now and then, I try to translate a song for them or at least tell them what the song is generally about, but my language skills are still in the making, so I am somewhat limited still.

·         TV:  The other night Mr. Popper’s Penguins, the recent movie with Jim Carey which I think came out just this summer in the US, was on TV here in English with Portuguese subtitles.   Later, I watched CSI: Miami with my mae, also in English with subtitles.  Another volunteer mentioned that she has watched Disney Channel and even “Keeping Up with the Kardashians” with her family.  I wonder who decides which programs make it to the other side of the world…

Visiting a Mozambican School

On Tuesday, we visited real Mozambique classes.  The science volunteers went together to a technical school in Matola, a large city about an hour outside Namaacha. 

First off, we have been prepped by other current volunteers about what to expect in the typical secondary school classroom.   For instance, class sizes typically exceed 100 students (yes, just 1 teacher), resources consist of merely a blackboard, and students cram into desks or benches or frequently sit on the floor.  Professors, though greatly respected in this culture, have a reputation for simply not showing up to class or being late, and teaching styles typically center around the professor writing definitions on the board and students simply copying the notes with little explanation or classroom participation. 

However, this technical school in Matola showed the other side of things.  This school has about 2500 students and 120 professors, if you do the math, that’s about a 20:1 ratio.  (In comparison, the nearby secondary school has 9000 students and probably significantly fewer professors.)  The technical school has 16 different areas of study including electrical engineering, mechanics, biochemistry, medicine, biology, etc. 

I observed an organic chemistry class.  The class had only 25-30 students and there was a blackboard and a periodic table on the wall.  The 45 minute lesson aimed at preparation for an upcoming exam and the teacher did somewhat a review of what the students should know, giving examples and asking for classroom participation.  The professor walked around the room while he lectured, he frequently asked “Estamos juntos?” (“Are we together? Do we all understand?”) and gave clear examples of what he expected of the students, and he seemed greatly respected by them. 

After the lessons, we met the head director of the school and then were given a tour.  The school has a computer lab with about 20 computers, but they said many were broken or not functioning well.  Their library consisted of about 4 or 5 bookshelves of books and some maps on the walls and the pedagogic director explained how they were trying to obtain more books but it was expensive.  The school also had a supply room with all the typical items one might find in a chemistry lab class: flasks, beakers, test tubes, even chemical compounds for experiments.  Granted there weren’t nearly as many items as one might see in a school for 2500 students in the US, but even the presence of any sort of chemical or laboratory equipment is extremely rare in most schools here. 

It was definitely an interesting experience visiting this technical school, but for most of us volunteers, our reality once we get to site will most likely be quite different than what we saw here.  In only a few weeks we’ll find out where we will be living for the next two years!

Line Dancing in Africa

Today we had our second Ngoma Time.  I thought there would be more Mozambiquans like last week, but today was just us and our professors, so about 20 non-Americans, but it was still fun.  The math volunteers did a rap song, a few volunteers played some music (guitar, drum), others organized some field day games like three-legged race, sack races, wheelbarrow racing, and crab walking which the professors excitedly participated in and it was a blast! 

I made up and taught a group of people a line dance to the song, “Country Girl Shake It for Me” (Shout out to Mary, Courtney, Chelsea, and Sam, my Incahoots buddies! You better all be praciting those line dance moves to do when I get back!)  

Anyways, here is a short clip of the dance we did.  Enjoy!

My first chicken.....

Tuesday for language class, we cooked with our maes (my mae was working, so my Irma came).  They showed us how to make a Mozambique dish while we made them an American dish.  We made for them the very American dish: chicken tacos. 

Many of you have heard stories about having to kill your own chicken here in Africa, and today was the first day I witnessed this process.  I did not have the heart nor the guts to take the chicken’s life myself, and let my friend Anna do the deed (she had already done it a few times before with her mae.)

DISCLAIMER: STOP READING NOW IF YOU DON’T LIKE BLOOD or goriness or animal cruelty or if you would like to continue thinking that chicken always comes from the grocery store, nicely plucked and packaged.  This is definitely not something for the faint of heart…..

So you choose to keep reading? You asked for it, so here’s how it’s done. 

You lay the live chicken on its side on the ground, its wings together behind its back then proceed to hold it down by stepping on its wings with your foot and holding down its feet with your other foot.  The chicken does not fight or even move really, like it knows its inevitable fate and is in a sort of trance state (the chicken actually moves more when it is “dead”/dying). 

Then you take the knife and slice the chicken’s head off, just like that.  (Side note: The knives here are typically not the sharpest.  As a result, rather than slice in a quick fluid motion, one must sort of saw back and forth, somewhat hacking at the chicken’s neck, trying to be “humane” and do it as quick as possible.  And if the knife is too dull to make it all the way through the chicken’s neck, you grasp around the cut part  and bend it open so that the blood can flow out as the chicken dies slowly.)  The blood squirted all over Anna’s foot (she was wearing sandals), yet she just kept cutting through that chicken’s neck, trying to go quickly as it was clearly still alive with twitching feet. 

Once the head is fully cut off, the legs continue to kick and the eyes still move around, the beak even opening and closing as the decapitated head lies there on the dirt.  This lasted for at least a few minutes, maybe even longer, probably shorter but feeling longer.  Gives a whole new perspective on the idiom “running around like a chicken with its head cut off”.  Thank goodness this chicken wasn’t running around though, but those legs continued to twitch and the blood continued to spurt out.

And then the chicken finally stops breathing and the blood stops flowing and now it is time to pluck it.  You put the chicken into a bowl and pour boiling water over it and then just pluck out those feathers.  (I swear, the chest still moved up and down as we plucked this chicken.)  With four of us doing it, the plucking went fairly quickly, like 10 minutes or so. 

Then Dylan’s mae proceeded to separate the chicken parts.  First, simply cutting off the feet, then the wings, then we were in for an anatomy lesson.  She uncovered basically the entire organ system of the chicken: liver, stomach, intestines, lungs, unrecognizable parts, just sitting there in the bowl with the feet, legs, wings, etc.  I’m pretty sure they use almost all parts of the chicken at some point as typically nothing is wasted here, but I have never been served the organs, at least not that I know of…  I’m still not sure why, but she also inverted the butt part of the chicken, which yes contained poop, and removed the inner lining (the poopy part), saving the rest.  She then braided the intestines. 

IF YOU STOPPED READING BEFORE, YOU CAN CONTINUE NOW.  NO MORE BLOOD OR GORE.

Now it was time to make our tacos.  Dylan separated out the meat part of the chicken from the other organs and body parts while I diced onion, tomato, garlic, green pepper, and lettuce and Anna made the tortilla dough.  None of us had made our own tortillas before, but it actually all turned out really good.  I fried the dough and formed them into taco shell shapes and then demonstrated how to assemble the taco.  The maes and our professors seemed very hesitant, but quickly said how good it was and went back for seconds and thirds.  The maes made a leafy dish with coconut and almond milk and xima (corn meal) and rice.  Made for a delicious lunch! 

Just something you might remember next time you go to the grocery store to buy your chicken….

25th Anniversary of the Mbuzini Tragedy

On June 25^th, 1975, Mozambique became an independent nation with Samora Machel as its first president.  Sadly, on October 19^th, 1986, Samora Machel, along with 34 others, died in a mysterious plane crash over Mbuzini, South Africa, under very questionable circumstances.  Thus, 2011 marks the 25^th anniversary commemorating the tragic events that occurred at Mbuzini.

This Monday, we traveled to Mbuzini, to the site of the plane crash to attend a commemoration ceremony.  We left bright and early at 6:30am crammed into Peace Corps vehicles and drove the 20 minutes or so to the South Africa/Mozambique border.  It seemed all of Namaacha was leaving to go to Mbuzini as well.  Huge charter buses shuttled people down the one way paved road to the border.  Once at the border, we joined the lines of people waiting to cross the double, barbed-wire fences.  Organized chaos, of course. 

As we crossed the double fence, people put red dye on the cuticle of our thumbs, making it look like we were bleeding but serving as our temporary passports for the day and permitting us to return to Mozambique after the ceremony.  We were then funneled between two fences, feeling like we were being herded like cattle.  (Indeed, there were cattle outside the fences and the occasional gigantic cow-pie as we walked along.)  We then descended this steep, rocky hill and approached the amphitheater.

The first thing I thought was how different this would be if we were in the US.  First off, this amphitheater violated every handicapped-accessible requirement, the main entrance requiring one to walk down a steep grassy hill and cross a few boulder-laden paths.  They literally just plopped down an amphitheater at the site of the plane crash.  The amphitheater itself, though, resembled any one might find at an American school, concrete seats overlooking a central stage area.  There was a main stage with a few seats in front of it, then the larger amphitheater sat on the left, and more plastic chairs were placed under a huge tent to the right (where we sat).  They had flat screen televisions throughout so one could better see what was happening on stage/who was talking.  Thousands of people were in attendance (The photos I have of the amphitheater I took when we first got there, but it definitely filled in shortly after). 

Another very un-American thing, the accessibility of the pieces/scraps of plane parts from the plane crash.  No one sat guarding or overlooking the plane remnants, and one was free to climb over them and take photos as they pleased. 

The ceremony itself began informally with a few dance groups and songs.  Then, all of a sudden the sound of a helicopter filled the air and right to our right, the presidents of South Africa and Mozambique landed.  We then sang the national anthem of South Africa and Mozambique (which I also sing every day before class, so I am slowly memorizing the Mozambique national anthem).  Following, the Presidents, families of survivors and other important people laid wreaths on the memorial site and the names of the 35 victims were read.  Next, there were prayers in several religions: Baha’I, Christianity, Hindu, Islam and African Tradition.  Then the Premier of the Province spoke, followed by Machel’s son.  Still, 25 years later, he choked back tears as he spoke about his father.  Then the Presidents of Mozambique and South Africa spoke about Machel, the generosity of each country towards the other and how the tragic event united them in comradery, etc.  (Everything was translated in either Portuguese or English, so it was definitely a long ceremony.)

We ended up leaving early, part way through the Mozambique President’s speech, which was strange to me, but I just do what I am told.  That’s another interesting thing, people kind of just walk around as they please during the whole ceremony, while people are giving their speeches.  Interesting cultural differences.

Some Photos :)

Hiked to the Cascades in Namaacha.  About a 6-8 mile hike.  Don't worry, didn't swim in the water.  (Also, not much of a waterfall right now, perhaps after it rains...)

My house

My Kitchen

Our Living Room

My Bedroom

Pretty View of Namaacha 

The bathroom (cuz I know you were wondering)

Week 2 in Namaacha

So this internet thing is somewhat frustrating, but I have decided that if that is the most frustrating thing, then I think I am doing pretty well.  But here is a summary of Week 2 in Namaacha....

Each day, I wake up around 5am to the sound of roosters, though whoever said roosters only crow at sunrise is a liar, they definitely cock-a-doodle-doo at all hours of the day and night… Some mornings, I may be greeted with the presence of a cockroach lying on my floor.  I'm not sure why, but they lie there on their backs, seemingly dead, until you touch them and those legs moving signal they are indeed still alive.   Yes, disgusting, I will be the first to admit that I hate cockroaches, but after hearing about all the other critters I could find someday, I can live with the only four cockroaches I have seen in my room while I have been here and when they are lying there on their backs and not running around, they are easy to sweep into a dust pan and dispose of far away.  I faithfully tuck in my mosquito net every day, all day and night, so as to prevent as much as I can, such critters from potentially cuddling with me at night, as I have heard stories from other volunteers…

My family always has water already boiling for me to use to take my shower bath and then I eat breakfast, typically bread or an egg and I am beginning to miss milk and cereal.  Then it is time for language class.  As I think I said, my class has only three people in it.  My Portuguese is improving a little at a time J; learning how to conjugate verbs in different forms so I don’t always have to speak in the infinitive, exposure to more vocabulary, etc.  Sometimes it can be frustrating when I still don’t understand things my family tells me, but I have to remind myself that, though it feels like I have been here forever, it has only been less than two weeks.  And when it seems nearly impossible that in eight weeks or so I will have to be at a level of Portuguese good enough to teach biology, I remind myself how much I have learned in just these less than two weeks.  Pouco a pouco, little by little…..

Our daily lessons now also include Technical training to teach us how to teach, essentially.  We are divided into which subject we are “supposed” (and I use quotes because it is highly likely that once you get to site, the subject changes) to teach.  This week we discussed how to incorporate the community into our lessons as relevant examples and did some mini lesson planning, even giving a 10 minute biology lesson, yes in Portuguese! 

Once a week, we have a HUB day in which all the volunteers meet together and, this week, we discussed common medical diseases contracted by Mozambique volunteers (makes you not want to go anywhere, swim in anything, eat anything, etc.), and HIV/AIDS in Mozambique. 

After we had what was probably one of my favorite activities thus far: Ngoma Time.  We will have two more Ngoma times and it serves as a venue for artistic cultural exchange between us Americans and the Mozambicanas.  This week, a girl dancing group danced Marabenta for us and a drumming group played music accompanied by an instrument resembling a xylophone made out of coconuts.  (hopefully I can get some photos uploaded eventually).  We were invited to join the girls dancing and, naturally, I jumped at such an opportunity!  It was a blast and exactly what I needed J.  I went home and showed my family what I had learned, much to their amusement.  I am certainly looking forward to the next Ngoma time and am trying to get some people together to do some line dancing for them.  

NO Fear Cooking in Mozambique

Inspired by assisting my irma with cooking dinner on Tuesday, I want to share a little about the Mozambique cooking style.  Here, there is no need to measure, sit and watch the pot, use pot holders nor a cutting board.  I will elaborate…

For dinner, I helped make chicken which we cooked in coconut and peanut milk.  To begin, I learned how to shave the coconut by sitting on this board and scraping it against the “shaver tool” (sorry, I have forgotten  the name).  Then we smashed the peanuts to a dust by putting them in this giant container (called an “almofariz”) and repeatedly dropping a long pole (the “pau de pilar”) on them (hopefully I can upload some photos soon because that is a terrible description).  Combining the coconut innards with the peanut dust in a large bowl, you add some water to the mixture and squeeze handfuls to squeeze out the milk from the coconut, strain it, repeat again with more water, strain and ta-daa! the cooking liquid/milk. 

We then added an onion and tomato.  Okay, this is my favorite and I sit there watching them dice the onion in amazement.  No cutting board is used, they simply dice that onion,or peel and dice that tomato right in their hand, blade going toward themselves, no fear!  No one seems to ever worry about cutting themselves, and trust me, that knife they use is sharp!  It is quite the sight! 

We heated the milk on the caravao (kind of like a really miniature BBQ about a foot off the ground with two burners using wood as charcoal).  There is no low or simmer setting, no temperature regulation, the wood just burns, hot, but, magically, things don’t burn.  They don’t sit there watching over the pot, stirring it every second for fear of something getting stuck to the bottom, they go on about their business doing other things and occasionally checking on the dish.  I sat there watching that milky mixture, stirring it constantly, and my Irma kept telling me, “Rest, rest it is fine.” 

Cooking rice is another thing!  In the US, I fail at cooking rice almost every time.  I have always thought that the rice to water ratio had to carefully be measured so as to avoid crunchy or soggy rice, but apparently I was wrong.  They just add some water to the rice, let it boil for a bit, sample a few grains and either drain the remaining water or simply throw in some more.  No rice cooker, no precise 2:1 ratio, and it comes out perfectly every time!

Which brings me to another thing, they have incredible heat tolerance!  I know I am somewhat of a lame-o when it comes to touching things that might be hot, but they must just have no temperature receptors in their hands as they just take whatever is cooking directly from the boiling pot and put it on their hand to test seasoning or doneness.  I watched my avo do this and asked, “isn’t it hot?” to which she just laughed probably thinking something along the lines of silly American girl.

Anyways, after letting the milky stuff reduce down a little, added the chicken to cook in it and then time to eat.  And it was very very tasty!  Some more Mozambique dishes I can’t wait to try: Matapa and Samosas!

Coming up next week: Monday we are going to South Africa for a memorial service for the anniversary of the first president's death.  Tuesday, we are learning how to cook Mozambique food with our language classes and then are making American food for them.  I'll try to post at least once a week, with interesting stories, but each day is pretty similar to the next, class, lunch, class, dinner, some free time, then bed time.  Email me any questions you might have!

Summary of my fist week

Arrival in Namaacha

I copied some of this from my journal on the first day…

I arrived in Namaacha on Saturday afternoon.  (I still can’t believe we have only been here for just a week!)  During that bus ride from Maputo to Namaacha, we passed houses of all sorts, many the kind you might imagine in Africa, built out of tin or cardboard and defying gravity as they stay standing.  Realistically, I grew nervous of course because here we were, seeing firsthand those photos you see only on the internet, and the reality of the situation could not be avoided.  Here I was about to meet a family for the first time and live with them in their house, unsure what to expect, would I be living in a “house” like these we were passing?  I certainly felt guilty thinking how there was no way I could live in a house like that, yet clearly these were some peoples’ homes!  What had we gotten ourselves into?!  Instead, I tried to focus on the landscape around me and not freak out too much. 

About two hours later, we arrived in Namaacha, hopped off the bus and were escorted to chairs facing many African men and women, almost oogling us as if we were an exhibit, waving, smiling, whispering to each other.  We then found our maes and walked to our new homes.  Many maes held their volunteer’s hand as they escorted them, mine however seemed less enthusiastic and quickly learned that I did not understand her Portuguese barely at all.  After that, it was a pretty much silent walk home and I was shown my room and met my siblings and cousins, feeling totally overwhelmed in every way possible. 

My mae, with another mom and volunteer, then took me to the Shop Rite, which resembles a swap meet and occurs every Wednesday and Saturday.  I felt like a lost puppy just following her around, unable to really say anything and understanding only some of what she said.  Mostly I just walked with the other volunteer and her younger sibling who would answer our questions about how to say the clothes, shoes, foods, etc. in Portuguese.  Following that, we returned home, had dinner and I went to my room soon after, like around 8:00 because I was just mentally and physically exhausted!  I was surprised that I understood more Portuguese than I expected to, but that still isn’t saying much.

Summary of the Rest of the Week

So that was my first real day in Africa.  On Sunday I attended mass with my family, a Catholic service.  I understood almost none except the occasional prayer I recognized or like the blessing of the eucharist but even then there were some changes, or maybe it was mostly because it was in Portuguese and sometimes in Changana, a local language spoken here and in other parts of Mozambique.  Mass lasted about 2 hours long, and it was some special holiday for their church and there was also a baptism.  Lots of singing, some songs fast and they clap and sway side to side, and some songs slower and a few people sing a line and the next is a response line everyone sings.  There are several other religious groups in the area, but there seems to be a large Christian demographic. 

I also met some of Senina’s friends, and though they quickly learned I can’t communicate very well and didn’t understand what they were saying, I had an amazing time playing these games with them!  A game similar to down by the banks, and several circle games where they sing a song and someone goes in the middle and dances and then picks a new person to dance in the middle.  Apparently I am a hilarious dancer!  All those years of dance class really paid off! 

October 4^th marked the Day of Peace in Mozambique, the end of their civil war.  We attended a ceremony in which we gathered around a monument commemorating the end of the war and a few people spoke and then everyone lined up to place flowers on the monument and we sang the Mozambique national anthem.  We then paraded to a lecture hall and there were more speeches, in Portuguese of course.  To our surprise, about half way through, they had someone summarize what was being said in the speeches for us in English.  Basically, the city administrators discussed the need for continued peace and told people to be nice to us because we represent peace. 

As far as training goes, my day begins at 6am and I am off to language class by 7am.  This week, we had language class all day (7:30am-5:00pm) with a two hour break for lunch three out of five days.  The language classes are very small, the largest with only 6 volunteers, mine has only 3, so there is a lot of personal attention.  We have also learned a little about the Mozambique education system and a brief outline of the history of the country, but you can Wiki that if you are really interested, or more to come about that stuff later. 

A funny story: I woke up in the morning, exited my room then returned and was changing for my morning bath when I tried to open my door to no avail.  Thinking hm that’s odd, it opened a minute ago, I thought maybe somehow I had locked it unknowingly or something.  So I fiddled with my keys a bit in the lock and, this not being the quietest thing, my family in the nearby kitchen heard me fiddling with the door.  I think they thought I was dumb and kept telling me “Usa a chave” (Use the key) and I was trying to explain that the door was unlocked, just not opening.  I heard a tapping on my window and my irmao had me pass him the keys through the window so they could try.  They soon realized the door was unlocked yet wouldn’t open and I could hear them begin to unscrew the handle from their side of the door, hoping that would get me out.  Long story short, about 15 minutes later my sister ordered “Senta na cama” (sit on the bed!) and she came barging through that door, ramming it with her body to open it! 

I could continue on for days writing but I am sure I will have many more exciting stories to share soon and I hope I could paint at least some kind of picture of what life is like here.  At times, two years sounds like forever, but other times I just get lost in the moment and am just enjoying it, living one day at a time, and taking in as much as I can. 

I wish I could better describe the feeling of being dropped in to a situation with little familiarity, a huge language gap, potential cultural misunderstandings, total change of daily routines, etc. and yes it is certainly hard and I wake up still thinking how long two years sounds, but then there are some moments, simple ones like when I tried to translate some American songs for my sister and cousin or when I played those dancing games, where I get lost in those moments and find myself simply smiling, thinking about how those moments are why I am here and why I wanted to do this: to experience that new culture, challenge myself, and expand my knowledge of the world as I become part of a new community.  Sure it will probably get harder before it gets easier, and two years is a long time, but right now I am taking it one moment at a time and learning what I can in those moments.  And, at the same time, moving here isn’t much different than say moving somewhere else away from home.  One still has to adjust to a new routine, new people, build that support network, etc. no matter where you move in the world.  Yeah, some comforts from home are gone but hopefully I will find some new comforts soon J  Miss you all and thanks for following my adventure!

My Home in Namaacha

It has been a crazy first week in Africa and I will do my best to summarize the past week’s events…

My Home in Namaacha

Where do I begin…I guess I should start by describing my living situation.

I am living with a family here in the city of Namaacha (pronounced NaMAsha), about an hour and a half bus ride from Maputo, the capital of Mozambique.  All the volunteers are dispersed around the town living with different homestay families.  The city has beautiful views of the mountains around the area.  , It is about a 45 minute walk from one end of the city to the other.  The town itself is bigger than I was picturing, houses are not right on top of each other and are more spaced out so that they have their own yard most times.  Roads are dirt, except for one paved road, which makes for a lot of mud in the raining season which is about to begin. 

In my house lives my mae (mom) Palmira, avo (grandma), irma (sister) Senina (19 years old), and irmao (brother) Whyte (16 years old).  I have also met several cousins who sometimes stop by for lunch or dinner.  Peace Corps does an intensive training with the families prior to our arrival, covering the importance of proper food and water preparation and overall methods for making sure we stay healthy and safe during these 10 weeks of homestay life.  The families have basically been told that we don’t know how to do anything, let alone speak Portuguese, so they are extremely patient with me as I try to communicate in my broken knowledge of the language and go throughout the house asking how to say things or practicing formulating an intelligible sentence in Portuguese.  Our homestay families are a great resource for learning everything from how to clean the house, to cooking, to killing that chicken (haven’t done it yet, but I told them I would watch them do it one time.  Though I did discover that my mae is afraid of killing the chicken and has my sister or brother do it, or one can buy chicken in the market.)

In the house, there are two bedrooms, a kitchen, and a living room.  Following Peace Corps policy, I have my own room with a lock on the door and bars on the window.  I was provided with a plastic box where I have all my clothes stored, a wire to hang clothes on and hangers, a table, bed, and a chair.  Quaint yet comfortable.  I wouldn’t recommend the bed to anyone with a back problem, but it works.  My only complaint, the pillow….probably the hardest pillow I have ever seen.  The house, like most houses in the area, has electricity, but there are sometimes random power outages that can last for a few minutes to a few hours.

So, on to the kitchen.  My house has an electric stove and an oven (I came home to cookies and cake the other day).  They also have a freezer/refrigerator which basically resembles one of those rectangular ice cream freezers.  Meals in my house typically consist of a meat, starch, and vegetable.  They definitely use a lot of oil in their cooking and have a heavily starch dominated diet, but my family definitely seems to cook somewhat more healthy than other families.  For breakfast I usually have bread with peanut butter, or a fried egg, and polonhy (which I think is a kind of bologna type thing).  Then they have an AM snack of either fruit or saltine-like crackers.  Lunch and dinner are pretty much interchangeable meals regarding what we eat, but  I’ve had fish, chicken, beans, and sausage, pasta (spaghetti noodles),  and we always have either rice or potatoes.   The meal finishes with fruit, such as orange, papaya, bananas, pears, apple, etc.  I have quickly learned ways to say I am full, as they always offer seconds and seem confused when I decline until I explained, “Tenho uma estomaginha.” (I have a little stomach), to which I received chuckles but I see it was on our cheat-sheet intro to Portuguese paper for a reason!  They definitely eat huge platefuls of food!  Mom, make room in my bridesmaid dress in case you have to take it out a little! I can only say no politely so many times to seconds, and I have heard girls typically gain weight during training! Quite the starch filled diet!  Though, compared to other families, my family seems to cook fairly healthy.  I am hoping to engage in a nice cultural exchange soon and offer to cook dinner for them. 

On to the fun stuff: the bathroom.  My bathroom is located outside the house a short walk, about 10-20 steps or so.  (Some houses have the bathroom inside.)  SO there are two types of toilets: latrines and “flushing”, I have the later.  A latrine is just a key shaped hole in the ground, I haven’t actually seen one yet, but I can imagine, and you just squat over it and do your thing.  For flushing toilets, you do your business and then pour in a bucket of water and it goes down.  (They do have toilet paper.)  So woo, having a toilet seat to sit on! 

So showers…. They aren’t as bad as it sounds, I promise.  I take water from this huge trashcan like holder where it is stored in the house and mix it with some boiled water to create nice warm bath water in a large basin which I proceed to carry out to the bathroom.  Then you take a cup and use that to pour the water over yourself.  It sounds terrible, but it’s really not all that bad, surprisingly.  I can imagine it feeling really good when it gets super hot outside soon, but it has been pretty cold lately in the morning which wakes you up pretty quickly.

Weather: the weather here is pretty random.  One day it was freezing and rained a little then the next the sun was out and it was a nice 80ish degrees.  The rainy season is coming though and I anticipate it to be very muddy, and loud on these tin roofs which certainly make the smallest sprinkle sound like a torrential downpour. 

SO those are the typical day to day things in probably way too much detail.  It is amazing how different each volunteer’s house and family are.  Some have bigger houses, some smaller, outside latrines, and inside toilets, houses with several younger kids and little privacy, or houses with demanding maes who make them bathe three times a day, etc.  Overall, I have had no problems with my family.  They are extremely respectful of my house, give me privacy but are eager to help me learn when I ask.  At first, I wished I had a family with more younger kids in it because they somewhat cling on to you and love teaching you vocab, etc., but I have definitely come to enjoy having my own space and having a family where I am not afraid to join in but don’t feel pressured to always do so.  And then I can just visit other friends’ houses and play with their kids when I want.

I will try to upload photos soon!