Saturday, October 16, 2010

Marching on...

10/15/10

Okay let’s be frank. Moçambique is a beautiful country with unbelievably friendly people and some damn good bread but it’s also a completely different way of life.  In our sheltered world in the states it’s hard to believe that this is how a majority of the world always lives, never knowing anything else. My two weeks (sometimes it seems like a lot longer)here in Namaacha have opened my eyes to more new things than I can explain.

I’ll start with the fact that I’m in place where very little English is spoken and the only real way to communicate with the people I live with is through butchered Portuguese and hand gestures.  And while my language skills are improving, most conversations revolve around how we are feeling, the day’s activities, the weather and those words I can quickly look up in my dictionary. We’re not solving the world’s problems here but we’re communicating. I understand when my mom tells me I don’t eat enough (um when you eat five good meals of carbs and starch a day it’s hard for any given one to be very big), when my sister tells me which water to use to tomar banho (take a bath) and when my uncle continually explains the geography of Moz and southern Africa to me. And I was well aware that I got scolded this morning for leaving my boiled water in the teapot to cool overnight and for not refilling it to warm water for morning cha (tea). I was actually really happy about that one because I really felt like one of the kids and not the poor little American girl who doesn’t know a rinse basin from a pot of shima.

I’ve also experienced some interesting new things here in Moz.  Last weekend my mom was in Maputo visiting a family friend who was in the hospital, so it was pretty much just me, my sisters and my nieces and nephews in the house.  On Sunday I learned how to wash clothes and really clean my room and that night my sisters asked if I knew how to cook. I smiled and explain that of course I did - if it meant boiling water and adding the contents of a box to said water.  I pointed to a package of massa (pasta) and said “oh, I can make that”. My sister looked back and said “okay, show me”. I proceeded to make my massa to my standards (which means an eighth of the oil) and learn how to sauté chicken feet with onions and tomatoes.  I didn’t actually eat the chicken feet but I can’t knock the flavor they added to the meal. I was proud of myself until one sister laughed and said I had a lot to learn. Okay fine, burst my nice little bubble with your terribly true dose of reality. My confidence is fine.

Probably the most eye opening and uncomfortable experience was my first trip in a true Moçambiquen chapa (taxi like van).  Last Saturday we all went into Maputo with our language groups to do some shopping and practice our Portuguese.  We left Namaacha at 6:30am in PC only chapas. Now a chapa is like a really well worn 15 passenger van that will take you and 20 of what you better hope are your nearest and dearest, very clean friends from point A to point B. Safe to say it was tight in those chapas as we headed into Maputo but it was other PCTs (Peace Corps Trainees) and our language teachers so everyone was cool.  Seven hours later the situation wasn’t quite as neat and tidy.  Groups were spread out throughout Maputo and surrounding areas to shop because the place they normal go is officially off limits since it was discovered that the owner sells drugs to fund terrorist groups.  Now that order comes straight from Obama so there’s no arguing. Anyway, our group stayed with another group to do our shopping and after hours of walking all over Baixo (downtown Maputo) we headed towards the chapa terminal to catch a ride back out to Namaacha. This time it was our group of 10, 8 other adults, a baby and everyone’s shopping bags. It was hot, there was traffic leaving town and 1.5 hours turned to 2 as our chapa struggled up the hills to Namaacha.  One thing to mention is that Moçambiquens don’t use deodorant and have a very distinct odor to them. They are actually very clean people but being crammed into a chapa with a bunch of them can do number on your nostrils. Luckily we had all just bought our phones so we had some good distractions.  I learned that I feel quite strongly about my personal bubble, it’s important to open your window if possible despite the glares from the person practically sitting in your lap and I will be in incredible shape after two years because I plan on riding my bike whenever possible.

Wide open spaces...

10/8/10

I have this tradition with a friend where we write e-mails when we can about whatever is going on in our lives and somehow we got to using song titles as subject lines.  For me it was a song that described my life at the time or I was particularly enjoying. I’ve been slacking on my end of that exchange but it got me thinking about music and how important it is in our lives. Even here in Mocambique music is everywhere and usually being played really really loud. So as I have transitioned into this new life, I’ve been relying on music to calm my nerves and comfort my heart.

I’d be lying if I said everything was perfect and I’m loving every minute. It’s been hard. Really hard sometimes.  There was jetlag at first, the adjustment to new foods and dealing with the subsequent “system issues”, then came latrines, bucket baths and the language barrier between me and basically everyone else. It’s difficult and stressful and sometimes I just want to throw in the towel and return to my easy suburban life. The first night in Namaacha with my host family was my worst and I’ll admit there were some tears and some “what the hell am I doing”’s and I’m fairly certain I’ll probably have other nights like that. But then there are those truly wonderful moments of connection and beauty and joy.  Showing my host family the dance I learned in class that day and having them laugh at my “dance skills”, juggling a soccer ball with my brother, understanding an entire conversation in Portuguese, hearing rain on the tin roof of my little house. I’ve only been in this country a week and a half but the soundtrack of my life might rival that of any hit film.

So, back on topic. For anyone who knows me, ‘Wide Open Spaces’ is basically the story of my life and you can’t really get any more wide open spaces than in Africa.  The landscape is beautiful and natural and seriously straight out of The Lion King. I half expect to see Pride Rock off in the distance one of these days. Namaacha, my current home, is on the frontera (very close to the Swaziland border) about an hour and a half outside Maputo. Basically as far south as you can be in Mocambique without hanging out with the border patrol.  I think I heard that there about 40,000 people in the district but most are quite spread out and not directly in town.  Its remote and rustic and like nothing I’ve ever experienced. True open spaces.
I’ve found over the years that certain songs will forever take me back to particular moments in time. Jeff Buckley’s ‘Hallelujah’ drops me back into the emotional turmoil that was the end of my freshman year of college. Anything Ryan Montbleau reminds of my adventures at the Don Lee Center and Kenny Chesney’s ‘Better as a Memory’ reassures me that some people, things and places are simply meant to be items of the past. I fall asleep to the soothing sounds of Jack Johnson, Bruce Hornsby and Michael Brooks. I remind myself that I have the most amazing support system back home with the mix my mom made me (and that amazing book of letters!) and pump myself up with some Justin Timberlake and G. Love.

I guess what I’m saying is that I’m surviving. Some days are harder than others but overall things are good. I’m learning Portuguese little by little, making friends with some truly amazing and motivated people and loving the immediate acceptance I received from my host family.  I will describe them more another time but they are wonderful. It’s a huge family and I don’t exactly know how everyone fits in but everyone is accepted and welcomed. They are patient with me, laugh at my American ways and give me the space I need without isolating me from daily activities. I’m getting used to and enjoying bucket baths and am mastering my skills at Charades when words aren’t available. This weekend my mom is teaching me to cook. Obviously she’s a patient women!