Time Won't Let Me Go

20/5/12

I’ve been thinking a lot about time lately. The time I have left here, the time I’ve already completed and the time it will take me to adjust back to the “real world”. We measure time here in many ways and it seems to change throughout our service. At first it was all about how much time we’d survived since arriving. So it was “Yea, one week in country!”, “One month down!” and “Got through my first week at site without crying!”.  As we got settled in it started being about countdowns: “3 days until classes start”, “Two months til Reconnect” and for me, “30 days until I’m back in America for the weddings!”. We celebrated the milestones of being in country for a full year and then at site for a year. I think I even remember seeing the “500 days in country” mark celebrated on Facebook.  We counted down to the end of our first year teaching, vacation and visitors from home. And now we’re in our second year of service and there is a whole new set of things to look forward to. Instead of “One trimester down!”, it’s “Two trimesters left!”. We celebrate and mourn our “lasts” and plan even more opportunities to see each other. We (Moz15ers) have about seven months left and we’ve started worrying about all the things we still want to accomplish and see and also what we’ll all do after we return to the states. I can no longer carry a baby to term in country (that 9 month mark came and went, haha!) but it’s too early to start packing and saying our goodbyes. I’ve noticed I’ve started thinking about time in terms of what’s in season. As in “I didn’t see any mangoes in the market, my last mango season is actually over” and “Thank goodness the avocado season in Dombe is so long, I’m not ready to give up guacamole as a daily stable”. For most places, pineapple season is ending but papaya season is just getting going. Winter is finally upon us which means less rain but also less of that debilitatingly hot sun that seems to scorched vegetables in the ground. We’ll see better veggies in Dombe and eat way more salads. And before we know it the countdowns will be “Two weeks left in the school year!”, “One month until C.O.S.” and even “One week until I’m back on American soil!”. But you know what’s interesting? With all this energy spent of counting down and marking off days, I usually have no idea what day it actually is!

My original language group. One week into PST.

Almost through with PST!

First day of class in Dombe

A huge milestone: finally buying a bed frame!
Plus right around the "one year at site" mark.

Last Beer Olympics

Time Won't Let Me Go - The Bravery

Stronger

April was an exciting month. My last ‘first trimester’ ended with ridiculous Ministry of Education written exams (terribly planned, terribly written, terribly executed) and I finagled time to travel to the north. So as soon as my exams were graded and my grades calculated I checked out of The Dombe and started my adventure. And adventure it was. Well more of an adventure in transportation as my visits and time with other PCVs was smooth sailing. I’ll recount it the best I can. I tried to include a map with my travel route but I got frustrated and gave up. But you can have your own adventure looking up a Mozambique road map and following along:

Mona and I started the first day on the road outside Shoprite at 5am and got a chapa out to Inchope where the EN1 and the EN6 intersect. In Inchope, fondly referred to as “the armpit of Central”, you can get transport south towards Vilanculos and Maputo, west towards Chimoio and Tete, north to Nampula, Lichinga and Pemba or east to Beira, so it’s always full of passing vehicles. We started boleia-ing from the gas station and got a ride pretty quickly from some folks headed to Nicoadala. The roads get progressively worse as you head north and this particular stretch is cheio de potholes. We got about 100km short of Caia when the front axle broke as the driver unsuccessfully swerved around a pothole. We got out to look at what we thought was a flat to find the front left tire lying flat on the ground with the car resting on top of it. Realizing this was not an easy fix, Mona and I thanked the guys and flagged down another ride. This second car dropped us in Caia and we ended up just getting on a bus headed all the way to Nampula. Twelve hours later we arrived in Nampula City and were able to crash at the house of a friend of a friend with hot running water. A hot shower and a cold beer was exactly what I needed after 18 hours on the road! The next morning we got a bus out to Angoche where I stood in the aisle for three of the four hours and was surrounded by vomiting women and babies. Sounds awesome right?

Angoche

My time in Angoche was amazing however. It’s a beautiful old city on the coast that was once the stronghold of a Muslim sultan. It’s got wide streets, trash service, beautiful beaches and apas! A group of volunteers from all groups (14, 15, 16 and 17) were in town from surrounding sites for one guy’s birthday so I was able to catch up with a bunch of volunteers I don’t normally see. After a couple days I headed back to Nampula with two of the 17ers going to their Reconnect Conference and the four hour trip took us over seven before the truck ran out of gas. Again, I was able to flag down a car with room for the three of us and we got into the city just before dark. I was really only there to get my flu shot and get out going south but that wasn’t an option at that hour. Luckily PC put me up in the hotel with the 17ers (I mean I was there on “official/medical business”) and I got another hot shower, good food, a night out and a comfy bed. So sometimes things do work out in my favor!

Bright and early the next morning I got my flu shot and found the parragem with a bus to Alto Molocue as I was headed back south to Quelimane. Naturally the bus didn’t leave for almost four hours and I got what had to have been the last chapa from Alto to Mocuba where Tonya (a fellow 15er) was kind enough to take me in for the night. I was just three hours from Quelimane at this point so I left around 7am and waited on the road for a boleia. Several chapas and open-backs tried to snag me with “Estou pronto” “ vou sair agora” and “eu nao vou demorar” and one even grabbed my backpack and took off down the road (he eventually returned and threw my bag at me through the window without stopping)! I was about ready to sit on the side of the road and cry when a really sweet Portuguese man stopped and said he was headed all the way into Quelimane. And less than three hours later I was in the town of bike taxis catching up with my wonderful friend Meagan. I got a couple good days of food, conversation and tv shows before returning to Chimoio (a six hour trip that took eight and involved a transit cop refusing to return my passport until I agreed to take him back to America with me) and eventually back to The Dombe for the start of the second trimester.

Quelimane bike taxi

a previous bike taxi experience in Malawi

To summarize, I was traveling for about two weeks and about half of those days were spent on the road. Yea for traveling in Mozambique!

Stronger - Kelly Clarkson (the traveling didn't kill me so I must be stronger right?)