Where does your water come from?

I’ve lived in a third world country for over a year now.  I wash my clothes using a three basin system: soap, rinse, rinse.  I wash dishes with two basins.  I “shower” out of a bucket, dumping a smaller cup of water on my head to bathe.  I cook using coals.  Not having conveniences of the modern world has become routine for me, normal.  It’s my day to day life.  But I know it’s only for two years time. 

I have these moments every now and then when I take a step back and think to myself in bewilderment that this is my neighbors’ lives every day, for their entire lives.  The idea of washing machines, dish washers, vacuums, and running water are far away concepts that they may have seen in movies or heard of in that dream place called America, but they don’t give them a second thought.  This is how they have always lived, and, sadly, will continue to live for a long time.  I recently found out that Murrupula first received electricity only about 4 years ago!  They don’t look at it as a lot of work though, it’s just life.

Today I had one of those moments when I went to get water.  My neighbor usually gets water for me from a nearby house that has a well, essentially just a reinforced hole in the ground.  However, my neighbor, irritably, has sort of just disappeared this past week.  Fortunately, it has been raining and I have been able to keep my water buckets filled by collecting rain water, but today my water level was getting low.

The usual visiting children came over this afternoon and offered to go get me water.  We first went to the well, but the owner was not around and the bucket lowered in to the well to reach the water was not there.  The children suggested another location a little further down the hill.

It was essentially a dried lake bed where someone had dug out a hole, placed a ceramic basin in the bottom where ground water could trickle in, and then rimmed the hole with a huge semi-truck tire.  About 5 women were already there, their buckets scattered around the area, waiting for the basin to fill up.  Then they would kneel beside the hole on the tire, lean in so that almost their entire bodies were inside the hole, and use another bucket or bowl to scoop water out, filling their own buckets.  When the water level would get too low, they would sit back and wait again for it to fill up, then repeat the process.

For about 10 minutes, I just sat there watching these women and thinking how much of pain in the butt this would be to have to do every single day!  But they showed no angst or irritation.  They sat around patiently waiting for the water, talking in Macua (probably about the white girl) and filled up their buckets. 

After about 30 minutes, I saw this was going to take a long time and opted to come back another day or find another water source tomorrow.  So me and my six children assistants headed back up the hill towards my house. 

Along the way, we passed a group of women sitting around sorting some peanuts.  I greeted them, explained how I was getting water but would come back another time, and they said no, we will take you now. 

So one woman, who I later learned was named Gilda, grabbed my buckets and proceeded down the hill to fill them up for me.  She was so sweet, not letting me help her as she nearly climbed inside the whole to reach the water.

With two buckets now filled, a little over an hour later, we made our way back to the house: two 8 year old girls carrying the buckets on their heads, one 5 year old boy, one American girl carrying a 3 year old on her hip and holding the hand of another 4 year old girl, and one 7 year old carrying a bowl filled with water just for bonus.  I couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

As a reward, as because I feel a little guilty taking advantage of this kind of child labor, I gave all the kids Tootsie Rolls as payment for helping me.  Can’t wait for them to visit tomorrow asking for more chocolates!

Cooking Peace Corps style

What is carvão?  Why use it if you have an electric stove?

“Carvão” [car vow] is essentially charcoal.  Mozambicans make it by placing a log in a hole in the ground, setting it on fire, and then covering the hole so the log sort of just smolders, creating a charcoal we call “carvão”.  You can buy a huge sack about 5 feet high for just 100mts (about $3.33).

This was my setup for baking a cake.  You
can see the metal fugao, with it's two sections.
Inside of this pot is another smaller pot which
holds the cake batter, set a top a few rocks
so that the bottom of the cake and pan do not burn.
On top of the pot is some carvao.  After some
experimental attempts, I no longer put carvao on top.

The process of cooking with carvão first begins with preparing your “fugão” [foo gow], or stove.  Outside, I have a concrete table on which I place my fugão for cooking.  On the top portion of the fugão, you place the carvão.  Underneath, you assemble paper, cardboard, plastic bags, anything that will burn.  Light a match, start a fire under the carvão, feed the fire until some of the carvão turns gray and is lit, use the lid of a pot to fan the carvão to heat it up faster, wait a few minutes and presto, it’s time to cook.

Yes it can be a pain, but now it only takes me a few minutes to light the carvão.  It gets hotter and thus is better for cooking beans, rice, baking, and boiling drinking water.  On a hot day, cooking inside on the stove can be awful and that kitchen gets too warm, so its can be a nice alternative to cook outside.  Also, I don’t trust the electrical wiring in my house that much to use my stove too often, especially for things that need a while to cook.

What have I been eating lately?  At the market yesterday, I bought my first pineapple of the season.  Breakfast I’ve been having yogurt with homemade granola, a fried egg, or cereal with powdered milk.  For lunch, I’ve been making sandwiches with a squash/zucchini type vegetable sautéed with onions and garlic.  Dinner the past few nights was fried rice, then spaghetti, then black beans seasoned with taco seasoning.  Due to a loving mother who sends me too many packages, I have quite a few American spices and seasoning packets, so I eat decently over here.  It’s the fresh produce and dairy products that can be hard to come by.  Since most of these meals are quick cooking, I’ve only been using my carvão to boil water which I then put in my water filters for clean drinking water.  However, on those days when the power is out, carvão is the only option. 

The Truth about Transportation

Dec 14, 2011: First trip to Nampula city – Went to Nampula.  My what an adventure that was!  Coming back, caught a chapa to Feina chapa stop. So overwhelming there and by that time, I had lost all my patience, it was so hot and obnoxious people saying “amiga, give me money.” It sucks because it is hard to distinguish people that are jerks trying to take advantage of you and those who really are trying to help.  We opted for a chapa back.  Mistake!  Hot, cramped, waiting forever to fill the last “seat” even though it was packed already (30 people!).  As we waited, vendors attack through the door selling chargers, soda, cakes, bread, whatever.  Finally we made it home, to our hot stuffy house, but it’s still nice to kind of shut ourselves away and relax.

This was a journal entry after my first trip to Nampula city.  Oh Nampula.  It’s not my favorite city in the world.  Actually, it probably tops the list of my least favorite cities.  But, for us Northerners, it’s our city, our go-to place to buy cheese and other groceries, eat out at a restaurant, use free internet in our PC office and most importantly, pass through to get to other places.  Why is Nampula so bad?  Because the above is really all you can do there.  And, it’s not the safest place, definitely not somewhere I ever walk around at night.  Fortunately, I have learned to navigate the streets of Nampula and know those places to stay away from or where to keep my guard up and I haven’t had any issues walking around, yet. 

The second part of this journal entry, transportation.  Getting around Mozambique, you basically have two options: use public transportation (“chapa” [shop ah]) or try to hitchhike (“boleia” [bow lay ah]).  The further south you go, the easier it is to boleia – more people have cars, thus more traffic plus there are better road conditions.  Up north, “catching a boleia” can be a little harder.  Many volunteers opt for the hitchhiking option because 1. it’s much more comfortable 2. it’s faster 3. it can be safer (seatbelts).  The thing about hitchhiking is that you never know how long you are going to be waiting on the side of the road and when or even if someone will ever stop for you.  However, most people can easily rationalize this by arguing that it typically takes a long time for chapas to fill up.  So either you sit on the chapa or you can wait outside for something else to drive by.

Let me explain this further.  Chapas.  These are mini-buses, with four rows of seats plus the driver and passenger seats in front.  Though there are technically only three seats in a row, you always sit four people to a row and two up front in the passenger seat.  Frequently, they squeeze in a fifth row of four people facing backwards behind the driver’s seat, legs interlocking like a zipper with the front row of passengers.  So, that’s a minimum of 22 people, plus the driver, plus the “cobrador” [coe brah door] who stands in the second row by the door and is responsible for collecting money and opening and closing the door.  So a total of 24 people sitting very close together plus the usual babies or young children who sit in their parent’s lap.  It’s certainly an experience ha.

The chapa driver will not leave until every seat is filled.  That means, even if they are missing just one person and have 21 people, they will continue to wait, sometimes upwards of an additional hour, for that last person to come.  Fortunately, for me in Murrupula, because I am only about 75km from Nampula City, people frequently are coming and going to the city so my chapas usually fill up pretty quickly, averaging about 45 minutes.  (You can see my sense of time has changed a little bit ha.  Anything under an hour I consider fast!)  While travelling to other sites, however, it is not uncommon to wait over 1 or even 2 hours for the chapa to leave.  The longest I ever waited?  Over six hours!  When there are no other options though, all you can do is wait.  Patience is key in this country. 

I usually opt for the chapa option for my trips in to the city, just because I can see and have an idea of how much longer it’ll be.  Admittedly, I have “boleia-ed” several times (don’t freak out too much Mom and Dad, I’ve almost always been with another volunteer), and they are always much better rides complete with seat belts, sometimes air conditioning, and you can meet some cool people.  For instance, my last ride in to the city was with two South African gentlemen who told me all about places to go in Cape Town, which was convenient since I am going there for vacation in a few weeks.  The thing about hitchhiking is being selective, taking in to consideration the condition of the car and the driver, and not being afraid to speak up if you feel they are going too fast.

So that’s my adventure for getting in to the city.  Then you arrive at the chapa station, which is pretty much as I described in the journal entry: busy, crowded, people asking for money, vendors, marriage proposals, etc. 

As I reread that journal entry again, I smirk to myself thinking about how ridiculous it sounds but knowing that it’s my reality here and something I have grown accustomed to.  I still just shake my head when I see the six sheep tied to the roof of a chapa or a family of three driving by on their single motorcycle, baby sitting in front holding the handle bars, but no longer does it shock me quite as much.  I’m not really sure if that’s good or bad, to be honest.  Yes, I do get anxious while travelling, some times more than others.  Having had two friends pass away due to a car accident in this country, the risk is something I think about every time I travel here.  But you take all the precautions you can, mitigate the risk, and hopefully get to where you need to go safely.  

My Mozambican Family

The Uarila’s are a family here in Murrupula that I have grown close with.  I met the teenage son, Inocêncio, through my neighbor (they were classmates).  While my neighbor was away from April to July, Inocêncio became my go to person for questions like finding a carpenter to build a bed frame, finding someone to bring me water, and controlling my house while I travelled.  He now is the one person I let stay in my house while I am away.

A few months ago, Inocêncio’s father wrote a letter to my parents that I’d like to share here. 

Parents of our dear Teacher Sara,

It is with great pleasure we remember you, that in a magnificent and unforgettable form brought to the world an intelligent, beautiful, and admirable daughter to whom you gave the name Sara.  After her national travels to America and others, she returned to be with us in Murrupula, and resumed her indispensable teaching activities and projects for creating conditions for a library where children, teenagers and adults can easily pass to read and write Portuguese and English.  It will be joyous and unforgettable if she succeeds this effect.

                 She can give the name that she wants, but we will call her by the name Sara and we will preserve it with all merit and quality for a long time and the name Sara won’t disappear between us.

                Sara is really a good teacher.  She teaches there to work, to read, to write, to know and to distinguish living things, to speak, to live correctly, to cook.  With her we know what happens beyond the border.

                Our family is always happy for the fact that God has brought us another member.  We feel happy and encouraged since she does not ignore us, which happened with some Russians of her color that worked in Mozambique who ignored, discriminated and isolated us.  With her we feel freer.  Before I had four children, now I have five with Sara.  She even knows how to live in a typical African hut.

                You are with congratulations for having a daughter, seeing that you worked a lot to create, educate and form someone like this with a lot of kindness, gentleness, and workmanship.

                In her departure, we feel we will become full of longing.

                We are waiting for the day you will be with us, the parents or whatever member of Sara’s family, to visit us, exchange experiences that the distance, climates, races, and cultures offer us.

                Although we had delayed quite a lot in responding to your letter, it brought for us quite a lot of happiness and we have revised the moment for another.

                We know that still they have not received the touch of Christ, but we plead that you locate there in your city a church, a group of churches, with whom we could establish ties and exchange experiences in the faith of Christ.

                We hope that we will write forever.

A great embrace to all of Sara’s family, health, peace, tranquility, harmony, prosperity and longevity in the love of live.

I don’t visit the family as often as I should maybe (maybe once every few weeks), my excuse being that their house is about a 30 minute walk from mine.  Also, though I feel welcomed in the family, it can sometimes feel awkward sitting with a Mozambican family.  Due to my American lifestyle, I am still not comfortable with those moments of silence where people just sit around.  I mostly communicate with them through Inocêncio, either by text message (usually attempted in English) or when he comes to visit me.  All in all though, they are a very sweet, caring family, particularly the father, Mario.

From what I have gathered, Mario has worked in many different areas including being a professor, school director, government employee, and, currently, a pastor.  He’s even travelled to Brazil where he worked with some missionaries!  He’s a smart man who has a strong grasp on the size of the world and I’ve had many interesting conversations and discussions with him about problems Mozambicans face in this country like poverty, malnutrition, problems with the education system, corruption, and health issues.

Thursday was Inocêncio’s 19^th birthday and I decided I would make him a cake and visit the family for lunch.  I fashioned my “oven”, lighting some charcoal, placing some rocks in the bottom of a large pot, mixing my cake batter while estimating the amounts without measuring cups, and placing the cake batter in a smaller pot inside of the large pot to cook.  I attempted to make a marble cake, and it came out okay.  Kind of sad looking and lop-sided, not super pretty to look at, smaller than I had anticipated, a little dry from overcooking, but a cake nonetheless.  Honestly, I was a little embarrassed to present it to the family, but butter is a rare commodity and I didn’t want to have to go buy more materials.  Cake, in the Mozambican culture, is somewhat symbolic, its cutting the center moment for the party’s beneficiary.  I hoped my cake would suffice.

I arrived at the family’s house around 1pm, ate a small meal of a few fingerling potatoes and a small piece of chicken with xima (corn flour mixed with water to create a thicker consistency than mashed potatoes, no flavor but good for absorbing sauces).  Then the rest of the family including his two younger sisters, mother, father, uncle, and nephew, came in for the cake cutting.  His father explained the story of Inocêncio’s birth, revealing how he received his name.  (Apparently, his father was waiting and waiting to hear how the C-section had gone, and had no idea if the baby had even survived for hours.  He thought the baby had died innocently, hence Inocêncio.)  Should have seen this coming, but then I was asked to say a few words so I thanked the family for their hospitality and congratulated Inocêncio on his completing another year.  His sister’s led a song saying, “Cut the cake. Cut the cake. We want cake. We want cake. Eat the cake. Eat the cake.” 

This was not a rambunctious, loud, energy-filled kind of event.  We sat in a circle modestly listening while his father spoke, ate the cake pretty much in silence, and then everyone left.  In fact, I’m pretty sure there wouldn't have been any kind of recognition for this day if I had not been there, probably mostly due to a monetary deficit among the family.  I’m also certain my presence had something to do with the demeanor of the room, his sisters and mother pretty shy, as they are still becoming accustomed to me.

I stayed around for another hour or so, chatting with Inocêncio’s father about my upcoming travel plans, life in America, etc.  Then I returned home. 

It got me thinking about the differences in family dynamics between here and the US.  I think that “family” is a much more general term used here, extended to neighbors and friends.  I don’t mean to say that families aren't close, as family is a central part of their culture, but it’s almost as though they are much more individualistic in a way.  The women clean, cook, and care for the babies.  The children entertain themselves.  The fathers work and do their own thing.  Everyone coming together to eat, usually not discussing much, and then they return to their own things again.  It’s an interesting dynamic that I can’t quite figure out yet.  Though ,I’m sure my being there has a huge influence on the general going-ons as well…  

Mud

Rainy season is beginning here in Murrupula.  For me, that means cooler weather, albeit a higher humidity when the sun does come out; the sound of rain pattering on the zinc roof,  sometimes relaxing, other times so loud you can’t think; thrill from filling up your water buckets with rainwater; and mud.  Walking in the rain, getting a little damp or even soaked, not a problem.  The problem is the mud that accompanies. 

Here in the north, there isn’t much dirt, it’s mostly sand.  Thus, the mud becomes this slushy, sandy, though still “muddy”, sticky substance along the walking paths.  There are no paved roads, no cemented sidewalks here, just mud.

You begin your walk tentatively trying to stay out of the mud puddles and mud rivers that form, walking daintily in an effort not to flip up too much mud with your sandal, or more importantly, to ensure you have a secure foothold before lifting the other foot.  You forget about the umbrella and realize the wind is blowing the rain anyway and turn your focus to scouting out the best path with the less mud. 

Then it gets to the point where you stand, blocked by the mud river that has formed in your path.  No way around it.  No way over it. 

You start to look around and realize that all Mozambicans have vanished and you are the only one walking in the rain.  A few people look out from their covered porches.  Children take baths in the water falling from rain gutters.  But ultimately, everyone has hidden themselves away from the rainwater. 

Still facing the mud river, your only option really is to go through it, hoping it’s less deep than it looks.

A little reflection

I know I have been slacking on blog posts lately (delicately re-emphasized by my mom as well).  I have been travelling around a lot , but honestly I can say this lack of writing is at least partly due to the fact that I just don’t really know what to write about anymore.  I forget what I have written already and now that things are normal for me here, it’s hard to think about what kinds of things will be interesting for any readers I have.  So I was inspired to maybe read through my old journal entries (I have been pretty regular, writing in a journal almost every day) and see if that conjured up some topics to entertain you with.

I went to today’s date to see what I was doing/feeling exactly one year ago, and interestingly enough, it was exactly the day that I left to first arrive in Murrupula.  I thought maybe I’d share a few passages from those first days at site to show the emotional rollercoaster that it was and then to compare with where I am now.

Optimism and excitement before the last night of our conference before heading to our sites.

Dec 11, 2011: The night before driving to Murrupula – Hard to describe the feeling I have now.  Realizing the awesome adventure that is about to begin. I’ve tried not having expectations, but it’s impossible to have none, so I hope it is the community feel or that it gets there with time.  It’s gonna be an exciting, challenging, difficult, maybe lonely, scary, but great adventure these next few months, two years.  It’s almost like now my mind is slowly changing from two years sounding like forever to sounding super super exciting and I can’t wait for the challenge.  Excited to see what is in store and to begin this time for adventure.  This is what I came here to do and what has been months in the making.  Let’s do it!

To be honest, I don’t really remember this last night in the hotel before we came to site.  But reflecting back now, I can definitely confirm that this adventure has been all of those things, and then some.  I still don’t really know if it is all what I expected, but I do feel part of a community now, I know where to go and who to go to, and now I’m excited for the next year to begin.

And then reality hit as I saw my house for the first time.

Dec 12, 2011: Arrival at site (remember I had a roommate at this time) – Arrived at our new home today!  Initial reaction was complete shock!  We walked into a house with dirty walls, doors made for midgets and barely big enough to fit through, tin roof, gate anyone could easily jump over, hole in the ground bathroom….what did we get ourselves into!  A few times we were both on the verge of crying just by the sheer overwhelming-ness of it.  A day filled with every emotion possible.  But I couldn’t imagine doing this alone.  It’s gonna be a long next couple of weeks, needless to say long two years!  And definitely going to be hard and a challenge, but that’s part of why I am here right, to challenge myself.  It’s just a crazy thing to describe, total overwhelming feeling.

Jan 13, 2012: Back at site alone – It’s just so hard.  Plain and simple.  Hard in every way.  And yeah maybe it will get easier and I have to take it day by day and I am staying strong, but it sucks!  I don’t want to eat because food is so limited and sucks to make.  I am tired of throwing things out because I can’t cook for one person and have no fridge still to save things.  Only one outlet works still.  I still have no bed frame and there was a lizard inside my mosquito net.  Yeah I’m gonna meet people and get into a routine and start working, but its just really hard!  I know it’s not really ever going to get easier per say, but gosh how much easier life is at home and how easy it would be to escape this and go!  I know I truly don’t want that and would be totally lost as to what to do with myself there, but right now ease, convenience, and comfort sound awesome!  I can continue to sit here and pout and cry, or I can complete something on my list to get through another day.  It’s easy to fall into a lazy, depressed mode of nothingness, but that’s not me.  So I still feel sucky, but I’m gonna get up and get through another day, even if it is just going through the motions zombie-like.  At least I am still making motions and that’s progress I guess.

I very clearly remember arriving at my house that first day and that complete overwhelming feeling.  I think that Jan 13^th entry really sums up my mindset during those first months at site.  Don’t think everything was negative though, because I promise I had some positive moments in between there too, but it was hard and quite the emotional rollercoaster.  My mantra was, and still is, one day at a time.  Now though, I can honestly say, time goes by a little faster.  It still gets just as frustrating, but now I can usually laugh things off as just quirks of the country I live in and think to myself, yup I should have seen that coming.

I laugh to myself now re-reading that part about the description of my house because really it hasn’t changed much, if at all.  Though the walls are painted and I’ve hung up some maps, artwork, and pictures, I still have a hole-in-the-ground toilet, the doors are ridiculously tiny, and the house is nearly impossible to “clean”, let alone keep clean.  What’s changed is my mindset in regards to it all.  I still have moments like that Jan 13^th entry where it’s frustrating and the convenience would be a very much welcomed relief, but I’ve settled in to this routine now where this is my home, my life here in Africa, and it’s doesn’t seem weird or unusual anymore.  I sit with a flashlight always by my side in anticipation of the electricity going out.  I get a strange sense of pleasure from filling up my water buckets by catching run-off water from the roof.  I feel relaxed after my bucket bath.  I get as creative as I can with rice, beans, tomatoes, onions, and garlic recipes.  I kill bugs with my bare hands.  Ha, Peace Corps Volunteers.  We really are a strange breed.

A Strange Apparition

On Sunday, I stayed in Nampula city before Adam flew home for the holidays.  Upon returning home, I had a strange conversation with Inocencio who had stayed in my house Sunday night.  Below, I have translated the text message conversation.  What do you think?

Me: I just got home.

a few hours later…

Inocêncio: I am sorry for the delayed response, I was sleeping from 3pm until 7pm because at night I did not sleep because I became frightened.

Me: What happened?  Was there a problem?

20 minutes later (meanwhile, I’m running through all the scenarios of what might have happened.  Attempted break in? Successful break in? Am I safe here tonight alone? So Mozambican to say that with absolutely no further explanation!)

Inocencio: Yes because when I arrived there I encountered a white girl sitting in a chair close to the door of your house but the door was not closed.  Then I saw her eyes brighten.  I became frightened and then she disappeared.  I was afraid until 2am.

Definitely not the response I was expecting and it raised many questions. 

Me:  The door wasn’t closed?  A white girl? What time did this happen?

Inocencio: At 7pm.  The door was closed.  When I informed an older woman she said it was a ghost.  I will come tomorrow to explain better.

So then I was left to continue trying to figure out what might have happened and, as you might expect, I didn’t sleep well.

So today, Inocencio came over to explain better.  He repeated the story about how he opened to gate to my yard and then turned the corner and saw a little girl sitting in a chair next to my door.  But then he turned on his light and she had disappeared.  He did not think it was a ghost because he doesn’t believe in ghosts, but he had no other explanation for this apparition.  Do I have a Casper at my house?  (**cue Twilight Zone music**)

A Mozambican Wedding

Saturday, a family that I’m close with (The Uarila’s) invited me along with them to their friend’s wedding.  Attending a Mozambican wedding has definitely been on my list of things I’ve wanted to do here and they assured me that my tagging along was absolutely no problem.  His words, “They invited me and my family, and you are part of this family, so you were invited also.”

A typical Mozambican wedding has two parts: the civil ceremony and the church ceremony.  At 9am, we arrived at the Civil Register Building and joined about 50 others in a small room to watch the bride and groom officially register their marriage in the eyes of the government.  Like American tradition, the bride wore a fancy white dress and a veil.  It was hard for me to hear what was going on the whole time, but the big events included a quick kiss between bride and groom while the crowd sang a song in Macua about how weddings are good, and the bride and groom signing their names in a book while the crowd sang “Do not be afraid to sign”.  A representative of the government led the ceremony, diverging off into a long speech about how domestic violence is not tolerated in a marriage, something I thought was good to address but was maybe not the right setting for such a lengthy speech.

After the hour or so ceremony, we filed out of the stuffy room and sang as the bride and groom entered the car to drive to the church.  The rest of the wedding participants jumped in to two small pick-up trucks, filling the beds of the truck in true Mozambican transportation style.  Inocêncio and I decided to walk to the church.

It was a short albeit really hot 15 minute walk to the church.  On the walk over, I asked Inocêncio some questions about marriage and this couple in particular.  I told him how the bride did not look particularly happy during the ceremony, I don’t think I saw her smile even once.  Soon, I learned that this couple had been married for a long time already and had several children.  According to Mozambican law, if you live together for over two years you are recognized as being married.  This couple just hadn’t had an official wedding and had not yet legally registered their marriage.  Inocêncio explained that the bride was probably just afraid because now it would be much harder to ever decide to end the marriage as it costs about $2000 to get a divorce.  Also, this is just part of the culture here – they don’t really smile in photographs and don’t typically show a lot of excitement during formal events.

We arrived at the church, a small cement building with a thatched roof decorated with torn pieces of paper strung along lines of string and the occasional bunch of purple flowers dotting the ceiling.  Not surprisingly, no one was there yet.  Inocêncio suggested that they probably went to take pictures somewhere in town before arriving at the church.  We sat around for about 30 minutes until we heard the rest of the wedding arriving in honking cars, singing and clapping to a song saying, “It is very good.”  The bride and groom walked from their car to the church through an arch made of palm fronds and down an aisle way decorated with the same torn pieces of papers, the bride walking atop capulanas laid on the ground to prevent her dress from getting too dirty. 

The ceremony in the church was much less formal than any wedding ceremony I’ve attended.  People walk in and out, children kind of roam around, the pastor kept forgetting the bride’s name (she didn’t seem bothered by it at all), there didn’t really seem to be an order of events.  People stood as the bride and groom walked in together, but there was no wedding song (no musicians, in fact, just people singing) nor a wedding party.  The pastor read a couple passages from the Bible and discussed the importance of a monogamous relationship.  The bride and groom read their vows, essentially similar themes to American vows, proclaiming their freewill in getting married and their promise to protect each other and be together forever.  Several singing groups sang songs in Macua, the local language, for over an hour.  To be honest, after a while, every song sounded exactly the same to me and I was itching to get out of that hot church.  After about 3 hours, the singing finally ended, people were done talking, and the bride and groom led the way out of the church, stopping right outside the doors to great everyone as they exited single file. 

By then, the wedding audience had grown to about 75 people and we all proceeded to their house for the reception.  They had set up a covered area with chairs, speakers and a TV, and a few tables filled with food:  buckets (yes, buckets!) of rice and beans, chicken, coleslaw salad, and goat stew – the typical Mozambican meal.  We sat around for a while as, I think, the bride and groom changed clothes and the hosts finished preparations for the party (not really sure what was going on at that time), the food just taunting us just sitting there as my stomach growled.  Finally, the bride and groom came out and everyone was welcomed to eat.  It still baffles me how much rice Mozambicans can eat!  I was telling them that what they ate in one meal would take me probably two days to finish!  I had no idea paper plates could even hold so much food! 

Sitting there, it was interesting to compare the Mozambican wedding with American weddings.  The biggest difference?  The simplicity of everything – simple decorations, simple food, no wedding party, no stress over the number of people and random uninvited people (like me) showing up.  Simplicity.  That pretty much sums up everything about life here.  Much simpler and slow paced. 

Another thing that surprised me was the lack of enthusiasm shown by the couple.  Thinking about it afterward, it really is a big part of the culture to not show much affection and enthusiasm, especially during such formal events or ceremonies.  Quite the stark difference to American culture where toasts are held and glasses are clanged to encourage such displays.  Out of curiosity, I did ask about marriage for love versus marriage for family obligations and was happy to discover that marriage for love is much much more common nowadays.  Maybe the bride was just too hot in her wedding dress in one hundred-something degree heat!  The crowd on the other hand had so much enthusiasm!  Mozambican women make this incredible cheering sound by “wooing” and wiggling their tongues back and forth.  And the amount of music, though I couldn’t understand it, clearly emphasized everyone’s happiness for the occasion. 

We left the wedding reception before the cake cutting, but I’m sure the party went on late into the evening, complete with more singing and dancing.  

Scorpions united!

Another short anecdote I forgot to add about the day of the train ride.

So we had arrived in Cuamba and I went to use the bathroom.  Grabbing the toilet paper roll’s center, I felt something crawling on my hand, but didn’t think much of it.  Then it happened again and I threw the roll down, only to find a SCORPION fall out of it!  That’s right, the scorpion had been crawling on my hand!  Upon further inspection, I am still unsure whether the scorpion was alive or dead because it never moved from its spot on the floor, but either way, scary!

Then later that night, while sleeping on the floor, Zackaria’s cat chased an even bigger scorpion into his roommate’s bedroom!  That one quickly was killed by dropping a heavy book on top of it, but my, were the scorpions out to get me!!

An African Train Ride

Last week, Adam and I decided to take the train to visit Niassia province.  We prepared ourselves for the 12 hour ride from Nampula City to Cuamba, a city in Niassa province where the train ends and, conveniently, Zackaria, a volunteer from our group, lives. 

Adam on the nice train

The train has both second and third class tickets; third class they cram in way too many people, so we opted for the second class tickets which guarantee no more than 6 people in a room/compartment.  There are two trains which alternate going to or from Nampula, the nice one and the not so nice one.  Fortunately on the way there, we got the nice train (not so lucky on the way back, though).  In second class, the nice train has 6 beds, three on each wall for individuals to have their own space to lie down and rest.  We got even luckier as there were only three of us in our room, so we didn’t even need to put up the other beds.  (The not so nice train only has two beds which serve as benches for sitting on.)  The bathroom on the train was a metal toilet that simply had a hole all the way through the floor so that you just left your mark on the tracks below.  Gross yes, requires some balancing skills, but better than nothing.

Like an American train, this train makes many stops along the way, but it goes so so slow, reaching a maximum velocity of about 30mph.  It’s a beautiful ride through the landscapes of Mozambique, but you can imagine it gets pretty hot and 12 hours is a long time to be stuck on a swaying, rocking train.  Though it is much more comfortable than a chapa! 

Along the way, the train stops and people rush up to the windows to sell various items like bread, bags of tomatoes, onions, beans, and sodas.  If you’re brave, you can try the street food like fried chicken, goat meat, hard-boiled eggs, cashews, fried potatoes or bags of cabbage salad.

View from the train

At about hour 10 of our ride, we looked out the window to see the greatest number of mangos I have ever seen in my life, then that number multiplied by about 1000.  It is beginning to be mango season here, but neither I nor Adam was prepared for the ridiculous amount of mangos this little village was trying to sell.  Hundreds of people were walking around with buckets filled with over 100 mangos balanced on their heads, selling the entire bucket for a mere 10mts!  I don’t even know what one does with that many mangos!  It was incredible.

Finally, we made it to Cuamba around 5pm, sore, achy, and so happy to finally get off the train.  It was a cool thing to do once, but not something I need to do again anytime soon.  

Wedding, Hooligans, and Halloween

Through the powers of technology, from the other side of the world, I was able to see my new sister-in-law walk down the aisle and I was a part of my big brother’s wedding ceremony.  It was a bundle of every type of emotion watching them saying their vows and then being passed around the reception talking to friends and family members all gathered together, being a part of it but also reinforcing the fact that I wasn’t actually there.  Still though, pretty amazing that I was able to see it all, despite it being 3am my time.  Definitely worth the lack of sleep.

Unfortunately, some interesting occurrences happened while I was away from my house that weekend.  I had left my neighbor to watch over things while both I and Adrienne were travelling.  I’m still not entirely sure what unfolded that Saturday night, but I came home to a hole in the wall of my bedroom.  After talking with my neighbor, I have formulated my own idea of what perhaps happened.

Apparently he returned to the house, encountering five guys on the premises.  They proceeded to fight each other and then everyone ran away.  I think he must have returned right as they had just gotten inside my house because nothing was taken, very fortunate for me.  All in all, things could have been much worse and improvements have been made on my house since then, making things a little harder for them if they decide to come back.  Still, a little disconcerting though.  Unfortunately, even after a year of being here, some people still see my skin color and associate it with having a lot of money and expensive things.

On a more happier note, the school year is officially over and I have some free time now to relax and do some travelling.  I spent Halloween in Angoche dressed as a butterfly, forming the wings with a brightly colored capulana and some black paint.  This week two volunteers from the new group are doing site visits here in Murrupula.  It is a strange feeling thinking back to being in their place just a year ago and answering all their questions, trying to show them an idea of what life is like for a volunteer here.  In a couple weeks, I’ll be heading down to help out at their training, but first a train trip to Lake Malawi! (more to come soon J ) 

Artistic Endeavors of Procrastination

Adrienne, my new roommate, has been here for about two weeks now.  After painting a nice base coat on the walls, creating a couch using the already built in base with a cut up mattress wrapped in a sheet, and massacring hundreds of cockroaches, Adrienne's house still need some homey touches. We decided to get a little creative and paint a baobab tree on her wall.  After searching online for several images that inspired us, we finally chose one and began sketching.  

Here is an image of the final product:

As Peace Corps volunteers, you learn to get creative and work with limited resources. We originally planned to head to Nampula to buy colored paint, but after finishing our sketching, both of us were eager to continue with the painting job.  One of us joked about the idea of mixing our white paint with dirt from outside.  After a few minutes, we both thought about how that might actually work.  Adrienne experimented with a small amount first, then we tentatively applied it to the wall to see what would happen.  Success!  We quickly proceeded to add handfuls of dirt to our bucket of paint, creating a chocolate milkshake colored substance.  Lacking paint brushes, we channeled our five-year-old side and embraced finger painting, receiving a nice hand exfoliation from the rocks and grains of dirt present in our dirt-paint.  For the color accents and the sun, Adrienne first drew in colored pencil, then watered down the white paint and applied it over the pencil.  

Here is what I have been up to the past couple days while searching for other things to do than grading exams or calculating final grades.  Also, was a great way to pass the day when we had no electricity.  

Meet Elliot the Elephant and Jaime the Giraffe (names pending)

The end of the school year

I’ve finished an entire year of teaching (well technically I still have one final exam left then grading to do still, but lessons are over).  And I think, overall, it’s been really good.  Not too bad for a new teacher, teaching for her first time in another country, in another language.  I mean there were certainly those days where I dreaded making the trek to the school and when the students themselves seemed to not want to be there.  It took a few months to get used to the school system and to learn to be totally flexible when surprises came your way like surprise holidays, an unexpected change in the class schedule, or an empty classroom.  But, I think at least some of the students got something out of the class, at least I can hope so.

After my last Biology class, a student thanked me and handed me a letter he had written.  It was definitely a touching moment that I’d like to share.  People always say all the frustrations are worth it if you reach just one student.

Want to practice your Portuguese?  here’s a copy of his letter:

É com grande prazer e enorme satisfação que neste present momento tenho a honra de redigir para desejar a paz, saude, felicidade, uma longa vida, alegria, esperança, amor, sucesso, respeito, harmonia, solidariedade, humildade, amizade, sabedoria, luz, e bom estar nos seus trabalhos diários.

Bom estado de equilíbrio, bons desejos, bom alcance dos seus sonhos, sobre tudo bom regress á terra natal ou de origem EUA e que tenha a vida e terra graças a Deus.

Agradeço e elogio o vosso caminho e bontade, paciência e amor que teve por nos, de modo particular o meu nome pessoal ao long do nosso processo de ensino e aprendissagente do corrent ano 2012.

Muito obrigado professora Sara! Pela generocidade, gentileza e todos valores éticos que nos tem mostrado.

Atravessou rios, lagos, e mares; florestras, savannas, e montanhas; atravessou fronteiras entre continents e países, e passou mais cidades com a compixa de conhecer e transmitir o saber ao povo Moçambicano.  Dando o contributo na luta contra pobreza e para o desenvolviment da nação!

Aceitou sofizer por vários efeitos, tais como diversidade da cultura e humilidade, mas nunca perdeu a força nem vontade do trabalha.  Peço e espero a seus pai todo poderoso que abençoe a senhora professor.

Sem medo de errar sera-me tão dificil esquecer a professor Sara por ter-me levado e deixado no mundo da Biologia sem dúvidas.

Pouco foi o tempo que tivemos, maior é a esperança de que mas um dia faremos se seus quiser; poucas são as palavras que trocamos mas maiores são os conhecimentos que aolquiri senhora professor.

Vosso aluno,

Anifo

Or if you prefer English, i translated it:

It is with great pleasure and enormous satisfaction that in this present moment I have the honor of writing for the wish of peace, health, happiness, a long life, joy, hope, love, success, respect, harmony, solidarity, humility, friendship, wisdom, light and good being in your daily work. 

Good state of balance, good wishes, good reaching of your dreams, about everything, good return to your native land the USA and in which you have a life and land thanks to God.

Thanks and praise for your care, good will, patience, and love that you had for us, particularly for me personally along our process of learning in this current year 2012.

Thank you very much teacher Sara!  For the generosity, kindness and all the valuable ethics that you have shown us.

Across the rivers, lakes, and oceans; forests, savannahs, and mountains; across the borders between continents and countries and past the cities, for the compassion of knowing and transmitting knowledge to the Mozambican people, for giving a contribution to the fight against poverty and for the development of the nation.

You accepted suffering from various effects like diversity of the culture and humility but never lost the force nor the will to work.  I ask for and hope that the all-powerful Father bless you.

Without fear of error, it will be very difficult for me to forget teacher Sara for having led and left me in the world of Biology without doubts.

Short was the time that we had, greater is the hope, but one day we will talk if you wish; few were the words that we exchanged but greater is the knowledge that I acquired teacher.

Your student,

Anifo

One Year!!

September 26^th marked exactly one year since I left home for my first days of Peace Corps training.  Technically, the one year anniversary for being a Peace Corps volunteer will not be until early December, but I think this still merits some acknowledgement. 

I came across the new group of Peace Corps Mozambique education volunteers’ Facebook page, and it provided a great means for comparing where I was then and where I am one year later. 

For instance, they had questions and concerns like what “professional clothing” really means and if they should bring their professional suit to how the cell phones work to how you can fit two years of stuff into two bags and how you can possibly be expected to learn another language in such a short amount of time.  Basically, total cluelessness and lack of any idea of what it will really be like.  You can read books and blogs, browse through the daunting stack of paperwork Peace Corps gives you, or ask current and returned volunteers about their experiences, trying to form your own idea of what it might be like.  Ultimately though, nothing can really prepare you for this adventure until you actually arrive, experience it and live it.

And I have lived it, for an entire year now!  It really is pretty crazy to think about.  I still have those moments walking to the market or standing in front of the classroom where I think to myself, “Wow, this is my life…living in Africa” and I can only really chuckle to myself thinking about what a strange reality that is. 

I have grown accustomed to walking to school with a herd of cows and goats and chickens roaming the streets.  It is normal to use a hole in the ground as my “toilet”, to take a shower without running water and to pee in a bucket in the middle of the night.  It no longer intimidates me being constantly stared at and being the only white person around for miles and miles.  I am an expert carvão (charcoal) lighter and can even make sweet potato gnoochi without an American kitchen and all its conveniences.  I have come to expect an unreliability in electricity and cheer right along with the rest of the town when it comes back gone.  It really is amazing how your sense of “normal” can change in such a short amount of time.

Certain things though still catch me off guard and are reminders that I am not in California anymore –  That goat riding on the front of someone’s bicycle, lizards on the walls of my house almost constantly, the six year old boy herding goats along the national highway.  I’m still just as surprised when I see four people drive by on a single motorcycle, no helmets, a baby in the front.  Those chickens still take me by surprise, especially when one is hiding in my bathroom and rushes past my legs, giving me a heart attack.  The extreme power of the African sun and trying to sleep in a house that is over 90 degrees is something you can expect but certainly never get used to.

Those things and moments are reminders that life is a little, no, a lot different here.  But amongst all those inconveniences, simples moments like when I walk home from school and three little girls come running up to give me a big hug and kids coming over in the evening asking for a “discotecha”, meaning for me to bring my flash light out and put it on strobe mode while they dance.  Helping 11 year old Niquito learn to read and seeing my students’ faces when I show them photos of animals they have never heard of like jellyfish and clams.  Those are the things that keep me around and guarantee to make me smile. 

So I have made it through my first year.  Through the ups and downs and all the emotions one might expect someone in this situation to have, and then some.  Have I changed in this past year? Yes, how could you not!?  Here, you certainly need to develop a huge sense of patience and flexibility and it’s almost impossible not to develop an appreciation for the simple things. I most certainly have learned a lot about myself and am much more comfortable and confident.  Mom, that young shy girl who was afraid to talk on the phone or order her food is long gone.  Now I do it in Portuguese or even a local African language! 

It’s still hard and I still have those days where I wish I could sleep in a more comfortable bed without a mosquito net, use a washing machine, or go to a drive-thru.  Days when I wonder what I am doing here, if I’m really making any difference and how nice it would be to hop on a plane and go back to my home in California.  What’s the most surprising aspect?  What’s the biggest difference between here and there?  What’s the hardest part?  Really all I can say in response to those questions is LIFE.  And it’s also my favorite part.  A bit general perhaps, but for this past year, this has been my life and it no longer seems so foreign nor strange.  It’s a simpler life in many ways with fewer conveniences, fewer material items, and a slower pace, but it’s been all the adventure I was hoping it would be.  And guess what….I still have another year! 

Now, rather than thinking of it as a daunting time frame and constantly counting the number of weeks or months I have been here, I have switched to a mindset of realizing how quickly time can pass and how much I still want to do before I leave, potentially just a short 13 months away now!  The days still feel just as long, but the weeks and months seem to be passing much faster now.

This one year mark, interestingly enough exactly one year to the day, brought another surprise….I received a roommate! I had previously been informed that I would most likely be getting a roommate in December, but due to some security reasons at her old house, Adrienne was moved from her site in central Mozambique to come live with me now and will be living in my other small house.  It’ll be quite a different experience this second year not being on my own anymore and sharing my town, but I’m excited for the change! 

It’s been a while since I’ve updated my current projects so I’ll try to catch up on the past few months now too.

About two months ago, I met a neighbor named Iassito when he came by for help with his internet modem.  We got to talking and I discovered he was president of a non-profit organization called AJUDEMU – Associação Juvenil para o Desenvolvimento de Murrupula (Youth Association for the Development of Murrupula).  Volunteerism is not a super common trait among a lot of people here and I was totally impressed hearing about his group’s previous projects and excited at the prospect of possibly being able to help them. 

Currently, they are working on a project to provide computer classes to the community.  They have one super old computer and just finished their first round of classes which include hour-long lessons 5 days a week for 3 weeks for paying students.  Now, I am meeting with about five people, including members of AJUDEMU and the best student from the previous lessons, to help them learn some more about using computers and train them to become teachers for future lessons. 

Iassito also has been helping me with my community library project, along with Professor Shek.  More on this project soon!  We are currently working on making a budget for the construction of the library and are hoping to write a proposal for funding within the next couple months. 

School is coming to its final weeks, only two weeks of classes left and then exam time.  I think both the teachers and the students are ready for the summer break.  During my break, I hope to do a little more traveling, perhaps to see Lake Niassa, travel south of my site to visit other volunteers, and say good-bye to those volunteers who have completed their service and are heading home in November and December.  Perhaps most exciting, my friend Courtney from home is meeting me in South Africa to do a safari and visit Cape Town in January! 

I still can’t decide if it feels like it’s been a long year or has gone by really quickly, but, nonetheless, an entire year has passed since I left home and that is pretty incredible to think about.  Thank you for your considered support and words of encouragement! J

You never know what to expect...

Last Wednesday afternoon I was just finally getting the chance to sit down and relax after a long morning of classes when I received a phone call from my pedagogical director Emilio (equivalent to a vice principal).  For whatever reason, it is so unbelievably hard to understand Portuguese on the phone, combine that with the fact that this guy is the fastest speaker I have ever met.  The only thing I really understood from the phone call was that I needed to come to the school now.

I made my walk over there (only about 10 minutes away) trying to think of what he possibly could have been saying.  Did I miss some meeting?  Didn’t do something that I was supposed to because no one thought to mention that I needed to do it?  I had no idea.  Never would I have guessed what I was about to encounter….

20 brand new computers!!  There they were, in the process of being set up, 20 brand new HP computers, flat screen monitors, totally modern and all functioning!  My school’s computer room had 24 computers, 13 of which worked, one more crashing just last week to bring our number slowly lower and lower, so this was quite the surprise!

Apparently the school did not know the computers were coming.  A big truck just showed up with them and the people to set them up.  After the initial shock wore off, I tried asking where these computers came from and why we received them.  Apparently the government received them from some organization in Canada and is distributing them to 33 schools throughout the country, the schools supposedly chosen at “random” (I think it helps that the president is from Murrupula). 

Ten computers all run off of a control computer, my computer, using a program called Microsoft Multipoint Server.  I have some learning to do to figure out how to use this program and manage the students with these new computers now.  Unfortunately, there are only about five weeks left in this school year, but my students are excited to at least get to use these new computers for a little bit.

Viva Murrupula e Ciencia!

August 17^th is Dia de Murrupula.  All week, I had seen signs of the town preparing for the big day and what it day it was.  It began around 9am with a parade down the main street to the rotunda, including 100s and 100s of people, banners held by a few students both from Escola Secundária de Murrupula and Escola Secundária de Armando Emílio Guebuza (I especially loved how the second school’s sign had forgotten the “o” in “escola”, but cleverly squeezed in a very tiny one inside the “c”), a military band equipped with two drums, 2 saxaphones, 1 trumpet , trombone and even a tuba, and a pair of cymbals, and a line of cars driving in the governor and other important officials of the district.  It seemed as though all the residents had gathered together to celebrate the 53^rd year of the Vila de Murrupula. 

As with all Mozambican holidays, the festivities began with a gathering around the rotunda for the laying down of flowers at the base of the plaque in the center.  Around the rotunda were banners and signs proclaiming Murrupula’s fight against poverty, domestic violence, and the spread of HIV, and “Viva Murrupula”. 

After, two motorcycle riders did a few tricks on their motorcycles including riding backwards, driving with no hands, and driving with no feet (a little nerve racking to watch seeing as how they didn’t have helmets on, of course, and were driving so unbelievably fast amongst such a huge crowd of people all pushing and shoving to try to see).  The crowd loved it.  Then there was a competition between 3 women carrying buckets of water of their head to see who could run the fastest.  I also heard rumors of a sack race and bicycle race, but I guess they cut those activities out. 

People then rushed over to the nearby stage to watch dancing and music.  As in true form, we stood around for a while waiting while the organizers did who knows what, organizing something I guess.  It was the perfect opportunity to do some people watching amongst saying hellos to colleagues, students, and just people in the community. 

There were 700..800..900… I’m not really sure, but 100s and 100s of people.  Most women with babies strapped on their backs with capulanas, kids climbing the trees to get a good view of the stage (I counted 15 kids on top of one tree), other children probably 5 or 6 years old running around shoving their way to the front.  My favorite is seeing some of the clothes people have (not intending to make fun of them, it’s just so random sometimes how and where these clothes come from) – tweety bird shirt, Popeye, the hulk, a small child wearing a McDonald’s uniform t-shirt, and a sequined image of Michael Jackson doing a toe stand.

While waiting for the dancing to begin, I took a stroll around to see what else was going on.  In the park area they had built about 10 small reed structures.  One was handing out flyers about Malaria, another a station for donating blood, and three others for HIV testing and counseling or testing for other health factors like blood pressure, etc.  I was very pleased to see all of these set up and people actually gathering around to take advantage of their presence.  The other 5 structures of course were bar areas.  (I am already thinking about next year and what kind of station I could set up with either activities or games about HIV education, a carnival area maybe?? we’ll see…)

Then the dancing and music began, the governor and some important army guy even got up to shake their hips a little, much to the crowd’s enjoyment. 

Somewhat bittersweet, I had to leave the celebrations in the late afternoon to head to Nampula with my two students for the Provincial Science Fair.  I think one of the students was especially bummed to be missing that evening’s concert featuring some big singer from Pemba, a theater group, and some other entertainers I don’t know much about.  But I think they were both excited to see what the fair would be like, at least I hope so.

A few questions I received from my family about the science fair that I’ll address here – No I did not meet with the students’ parents before our field trip.  No there is no permission slip.  Supervision basically doesn’t exist in this country as most kids are essentially on their own starting at about age 5 and these students had been to the city many times before, so they were basically on their own to do as they pleased during free time in the evenings.  (Most students chose to stay in their rooms and watch the TV.)

For anyone curious about our accommodations, Friday night we stayed at Residencial Monte Carlo, a more motel-feeling place with rooms featuring only the bare essentials of a bed, a desk, and a chair and some rooms have air conditioning.  Saturday night, we stayed at Hotel Lurio, a more hotel-like place, and thus a bit fancier than Monte Carlo.

Okay, back to the fair. 

The approximately 30 students from various districts around the province, 9 Peace Corps volunteers and our accompanying counterparts/professors travelled into the city on Friday, meeting at the hotel, having dinner together, and essentially a free evening before the fair the next morning.  Adam and Tony planned the fair themselves, with some help from the Ministry of Science and Technology, but they pretty much coordinated everything from transportation, lodging and meals, location of the fair, prizes, etc.  Not an easy feat, especially in this country where everything seems to take much much longer than you would think.  But they did a great job and pulled everything off, receiving many compliments for their efforts.   

We left the hotel early Saturday morning to arrive at the Escola Secundária de Muatala, an extremely nice (and I mean nice even by American standards) school in Nampula city, complete with Biology, Chemistry, and Physics laboratories stocked with supplies.  The fair took place in the outside but roofed gymnasium area.  (They even had basketball hoops!)  Desks had been set up in a horse-shoe shape around the court with a few lines of chairs in the center facing a table where the important Ministry representatives would sit for the fair’s opening.  Our 30 students joined the 35 students from Nampula city secondary schools, setting up their inventions, experiments, and posters.

Though scheduled to begin at 8am, due to the late arrival of the Ministry delegates and representatives, the fair began closer to Mozambican time and started at 9:30am.  To open the fair, a cultural group sang one or two songs, the Ministry officials said a few words, and a theater group performed a short skit to an audience of about 350-400 people. 

Then the rain came…

Now is technically the dry season in Mozambique and it hasn’t rained for a couple months in Nampula city, but of course today had to be the day it rained.  Luckily the gymnasium is covered, but when the wind picked up a bit, unfortunately, a few students’ posters and projects lined up around the edge got soaked!  Everyone was a good sport about it, a few of us rushing over to help them move their desks, mostly just shaking our heads that today, of course, had to be the day it rained.

After he was done speaking, the Delegado, or basically the head of the Ministry of Science and Technology, began to visit each student and learn about his project.  There was a bit of confusion at first, as people did not quite understand the concept of a free time to walk around and visit the students, and instead all 300 people decided to crowd around the Delegado as he spoke with the student.  Thankfully, after a little while, people caught on to the idea and things smoothed out.

The jury followed a little later, passing from student to student, judging them individually on their visual and oral presentation, perceived knowledge of the presented scientific concept, use of the scientific method, and creativity and relevance of the project.  There were about 60 projects in total, so this was definitely not a quick task of judging and selecting winners.  The judges included our Peace Corps education director Gelane and the health director Lúcio, two members from a UN development organization called UNIDO, and two people from the Ministry. 

During this time, a DJ played music, there was an area featuring myths about HIV and explanations of their validity or falsehood, and a group promoting reading displayed a large spread of books.  There were also representatives from SCIP present to do free HIV tests.  Later, we learned that of the 66 people who took the test, 2 came back positive.

At about 2pm, the judges had finally finished making their rounds to each student, and the winners were announced.  There were prizes for 1-6^th place for both 1^st cycle (grades 8-10) and 2^nd cycle (grades 11-12).  My student Aires received 4^th place for 2^nd cycle for his project creating an insecticide using electrolysis!  The overall winner was Patrick’s student from Ilha who created a method of converting dirty or salty water into drinkable, clean water (an awesome project that clearly deserved to win).  Other projects included a pulley system for loading things on to the top of a chapa, many projects featuring medicinal plant health remedies, an invention of the easy lighting of a fire, demonstrations like using an egg to show density of objects in salt vs. regular water or putting a bottle over a candle to blow up a balloon, rewiring an MP3 player to play in a car stereo system, and many more. 

First place received prizes including pens, pencils, notebooks, a binder, ruler, a backpack, pencil sharpener, 4GB flash drive, and scientific calculator.  The other places received similar school supplies, just fewer or of varying degrees of quality.

Though a long day, the fair was a huge success and it seemed that many of the participants learned a lot, some even saying they already have ideas for next year’s fair!

Oops...

Wednesday afternoon I was home thinking about how I needed to write a new blog and was trying to come up with some new ideas, when I accidentally created a situation myself…..

Three little girls came over to take some papayas from my trees and to play (Fatiminha, Vanessa, and Merina, all about 9 years old).  I shut my door behind me to join them outside, not thinking anything of it.

Now, let me explain the lock on my door.  It has a normal door latch that any American door has, but you have to use the key to open it, just like turning a handle would open a door in your house. 

Yes, you probably guessed it, I locked myself out of the house.  I had always thought about this happening at some point and just wasn’t thinking when I shut the door.

I turned to the little girls and explained the situation, keys and phone both locked inside.  We tried wedging the lock open with a kitchen knife I had left outside with my washed dishes.  Nothing.  They turned to me and said, “Well I guess you are going to sleep outside tonight.”

Then one of the little girls mentioned that another girl, Esperança (another 9 year old who likes to come play), had “a key that could open any lock.”  I didn’t really understand what she meant by this, thinking how that probably was impossible, but well, it was either that or try kicking my door down.  So, I opted to try this magic key first. 

On my way over to Esperança’s house, lucky for me, it was time for the afternoon call to prayer, and I fortunately came across my carpenter on his way to the nearby mosque.  I explained my situation to him, thinking maybe he had some tool that could work or would have an idea what to do, asking him to come over after he finished praying.

I continued to Esperanca’s house and explained my problem to her mom, a very nice lady who I have sat and talked with a few other times too.  Surprisingly, she was more sympathetic than amused and never even laughed at me! 

So this magic key that could open any lock?   It was a screwdriver….. I smiled to myself and thought, well this is worth a try I guess.  Not surprisingly, the screwdriver didn’t work.  So I waited for Saida to come by, looking at the door trying to devise a plan for how to go about kicking it down if necessary, while also playing with about ten kids who had appeared in my yard.  As a good teacher would, I took advantage of the opportunity of having so many children around and taught them the alphabet song I had made J (same as the good ol’ version, just with Portuguese pronunciations).

Saida showed up not too much later and brought with him a chisel-like tool to essentially pry open the lock.  Success, it worked!  It did indeed break the lock a little, but nothing too bad, just snapping off the latch part, but I can still lock it perfectly well with a key.

The little kids, ages 6 to 11, had stuck around for the entire adventure, so I had a little reading session with them on my veranda.  Peace Corps, in conjunction with Books for Kids Africa, started a pilot program with my group of volunteers, providing us each with 50 Portuguese books of differing levels and difficulties to use as we saw fit in our communities.

Though their attention span was pretty short, I read one short book with them and then let them flip through the pages of a few others, hoping that slowly I can build an interest for reading.  One of the older boys even practiced reading with me a little, expressing a keen interest in improving his reading level, something I look forward to continuing with him and with some other kids too.