Pure Imagination

I’ve decided I won’t jump back into nannying right away because the childcare mentality I’ve been exposed to the last two years probably won’t go over well stateside. Here, kids have the freedom to safely wander the neighborhood without the fear of abduction or being run over at any moment. My 2 ½ year old neighbors run around carefree collecting stray bottles and cans to play with. Whoever is outside just automatically looks out for which ever children are around. It’s a true “it takes a village” way of life. It helps that children take on various responsibilities at a young age. Children as young as five are caring for younger siblings and a 7 year old might be cooking dinner over the fire. So when a band of kids is roaming the bairro it’s safe to say that the older ones are keeping an eye on the younger ones. It’s not uncommon for a kid to be cutting vegetables with a large knife or playing with something they found in the lixo pit (trash).

What this means is that kids grow up fast but they have an imagination that would put American kids to shame. A bottle, can or box can keep children busy for hours if they’ve got a pile of sand or dirt to play in. Throw in some water and you’ve got a regular carnival! Anything is a toy when you’re not overexposed to high tech plastic toys and video games. And while they take advantage of all the time and space to run around, kids here know when it’s time to sit still and shut up. Take a chapa for example, if I child doesn’t take a seat from someone else you don’t have to pay for them so kids are always on someone’s lap or standing in front of their parent or older sibling. That means limited space and nothing to entertain themselves. And somehow these kids patiently sit through hours and hours of travel without a peep. It’s mind boggling! As children we had books, toys and even old school GameBoys to keep us quiet and even now I will get fidgety and irritated without my iPod. Kids here are amazing!

There are downsides of course – less mental stimulation as small children, lack of “out of the box” thinking and limited knowledge of worldwide advancements. But man, are they respectful and appreciative. I could ask a kid to ride my bike 6km into the vila for some veggies and give him a large box as a reward/thank you and he’d be happy as a clam (I’ve never done anything that dramatic but you get the idea). That box will make them the envy of every other kid around and they understand what it means to be popular. I’m going to miss when “bring me something from your trip” means a piece of candy and not a $50 video game. And when I ask a child to run next door or up the path to call on someone or get something, they’ll take off on a run and not just look at me like I told them to climb Mt. Everest.

So I’m going to let myself re-acclimate a bit before taking on any babysitting gigs. Because I’m hearing that it’s not kosher to send a 5 year old across the street to buy bananas or leave an 8 year old alone to prepare dinner. I don’t really see why not but when in Rome…

 

 

 

Pure Imagination - Gene Wilder, Glee or even the version by Maroon5

 

On Top Of The World

 

1/10/12

 

This past week the Moz15 PCV’s celebrated two years of service and I officially started counting down to my COS date (46 days from today!). It’s been two years since I received my big blue invitation packet and learned I’d be going to Mozambique, two years since I frantically packed those infamous 80lb bags, two years since I said tearful goodbyes to my family at DIA and two years since I landed in Africa with a group of strangers that would quickly become some of the most important people in my life. I had no idea what I was getting myself into and those few expectations still floating around in my mind were quickly shattered. I took it one day at a time and eventually found a rhythm and a way to deal with the changes being thrown at me. I dealt with the dramas of my host family, found my niche within our group of volunteers and prepared myself to move to what would be my home for the next two years. I unwittingly allowed myself to make predictions about where I was headed and was of course completely overwhelmed upon arriving in Dombe. Our house wasn’t even close to being ready, the temp place was real small, real hot and had been invaded by various large and creepy creatures, the neighborhood had cleared out for the summer ferias and oh yea, there was no energy. But Mona and I powered through with only a few breakdowns and eventually our house was built and we were able to really settle in for the long haul. And then last week I woke up in my little breadbox of a house and two years had passed. I honestly have no idea where those years went! I have had incredible adventures, learned a new language and discovered I am capable of so much more than I thought. In the grand scheme of things two years isn’t all that much but my time here in Moz had changed me in such a way that these may be two of the most important years I’ll ever experience.

Moz15 - two years later

So now, as I rapidly approach the end of my Peace Corps service, I am a mess of emotions and reflections. Most people reading this know that I tend to be incredibly private with the emotions and thoughts rattling around in my head but this experience has taught me (often out of necessity) that sometimes things simply need to be said out loud or put down on paper. I’ve learned that I can’t always work everything out on my own and since I am amongst a group of 59 other people about to go through the same major life change, I’ve gotten better at sharing my thoughts.

The transition I am preparing to make is unlike anything I’ve ever done. Sure, I left Colorado for college, then left that home in North Carolina for grad school in Maine, went back to NC for a bit and then left it all behind to come to Africa. But the difference is that with those moves I was venturing out into the “unknown”. So while I was sad to be leaving the familiarities behind I was excited to jump into something new and different. This time I know exactly what I’m leaving behind and what I’m headed towards. I am ready for something different but at the same time I can’t imagine leaving my life here. The Dombe isn’t exactly the easiest place to live and it will be nice to have a few more of those basic comforts but my life here is so simple. After I’ve been traveling for a while or have been dealing with frustrating public transportation, I know I’ll be returning to Dombe where I can simply sit, relax and rejuvenate. I teach just two days a week and have plenty of time to sleep, read and spend time with my friends. Simply traveling to my provincial capital can be an adventure and I meet so many wonderfully kind people everywhere I go. I can make a last minute trip to the coast and sit on the beach with a beer with absolutely nothing to worry about except where I might eat that night. I have so much freedom and I don’t know if I’m ready to give that up.

But then I know I’m going back to another home full of family and old friends, concerts and football games, four distinct seasons and the resources to make myself comfortable no matter the weather. I’ll have the opportunity to find a job within my chosen field or go back to school. I’m going to see the many babies my friends have popped out over the past years and be present for my future niece or nephew’s first days. I can have a fountain diet coke or Chipotle burrito anytime I want and travel on my own schedule, stopping when and where it suits me. I will live in a house in which I can sleep, shower, cook, do laundry and relax without going outside and be able to buy perishable items and put them in a fridge. Going back to Americaland means returning to a world of convenience and comfort but also to a place of constant activity, action and stress. I’ll have to get a “real” job with a firm schedule, deal with traffic, worry about health insurance and pay bills. I’m not sure it’s a lifestyle I'm ready to return to.

So, where is my head right now? That’s a question I ask myself each day in an attempt to focus my energy. I’m going to be leaving Mozambique is 46 days and I want to enjoy every second I have left here. Because in 46 days I won’t be able to walk up the little path to visit with Cecilia and play with Veronica or cross the road to buy bananas from the women in front of the mission. Going to work won’t involve walking 500 meters from my door to the school or controlling a classroom in Portuguese. I won’t spend my weekends away in Chimoio or Tofo or Tete and buying produce will never again be so cheap. But I’ll be going back to the States with a new appreciation for those simple pleasures and an outlook on life shaped by two years in one of the poorest countries on the planet. So while my emotions are a bit of a mess at the moment, I’ve decided to live the life I have right now and go back to the mindset I had when I first arrived and just take it one day at a time.

 

On Top Of The World - Imagine Dragons (I just found this song the other day and but the words are perfect)

Baboons, Bungee and Borders, oh my!

So I just got back from two weeks of travel and crazy adventures and I am ready to be back in The Dombe. But since my mom threatened to throttle me if I didn’t write a blog post (and I believe she could find a way to do it from Colorado) I’m going to try and describe some of the more exciting moments of the trip. A good 50% of the days were simply traveling but that’s an adventure in and of itself in this part of the world. The weekend leading up to this grand trek was our Central Fourth of July party in Dombe where 12 other PCVs descended on our quiet little home to stuff ourselves full of good ol’ American cooking (grits, coleslaw, chili, potato salad, real hamburgers, onion rings, hot dogs and beer). ‘Bairro 12’ may never be the same but we all had an amazing time and Mona and I were thrilled to finally show so many people our life out there!

The following Monday, Amanda and I set off for Nampula and with amazing luck we traveled the 1070km in about 15 hours while paying just 55mets (that’s about $2). Our first destination was the Ilha de Moçambique (Mozambique Island) which is a small island off the north part of Moz with a rich history and some beautiful views. We were staying at this super cute backpackers called Ruby’s with hot showers and cold beer! That first afternoon we explored a little and got our bearings before having an amazing dinner of seafood gnocchi on the rooftop of a little restaurant in town. The architecture of the island is either old colonial Portuguese or traditional ‘Macuti’ and it was hard to believe we were still in Mozambique. It was first settle by the Portuguese in the last 1400s and was used as the capital of colonial Portuguese East Africa until 1898. The church at the far north end, Chapel of Nossa Senhora de Baluarte, was built in 1522 and is now considered the oldest European building in the southern hemisphere! And in the sixteenth century the fort (Fort São Sebastião) was built around the church to withstand attacks from the Dutch. It was an important trading post, a major missionary center and is now a World Heritage Site. You’re able to go in and explore the fort and see the tombs in the church all while being surrounded by the beautiful turquoise waters of the Indian Ocean. We wandered through the narrow winding streets where you find the overgrown remnants of houses sandwiched between currently used residences, cute shops and little restaurants. We were also lucky enough to get a free bike tour of the whole island from an Australian couple trying to test out their new business. So Amanda and I were joined by a European couple living in Mocuba and we were guided by a local guy who shared stories and histories of the island and its people. It was a really unique way to see the community and those hidden gems you might normally miss. This part of Mozambique is predominantly Muslim so there were several mosques and each night we could hear the call to prayer. There’s not much nightlife so we spent our evenings on the sunken roof lounge of the backpackers enjoying the cool air and some cold Manicas!

From the Ilha we returned to Nampula to catch the train early the next morning to Cuamba near the Malawi border. We met up with some other PCVs and had enough people to get our own “sleeper” in the 2^nd class section of the train (There is no first class, just 2^nd and 3^rd). Each little room has 6 bunks and the middle ones on each side fold down to form proper benches. We were able to sleep those first early hours and then stretch out and read and talk for the remainder (It was a 10 hour ride). As you glide through each little villa you are met by people selling vegetables, sodas and food which you can simply buy through your window. From Cuamba we took a three hour chapa to Mandimba right on the border and stayed with a volunteer so we could get an early start into Malawi. We spent one night in Lilongwe before crossing into Zambia and making our way to Lusaka. We were having really good luck with boleias and transport in general up to this point but the ride we flagged down when we got into Zambia ended up being the slowest driver in all of southern Africa and the trip took over nine hours (we were told it should be 6). We actually calculated it out and his average speed was barely 60km/hr! It was painfully slow and we arrived too late to get to see anything in the city! But we were safe and still made it to Lusaka so I shouldn’t complain too much. We left early the next morning to go to Livingstone, the closest town to Victoria Falls on the Zambian side, and got in with time to walk to the market and get food. Plus we would finally be in one place for three nights!

It’s hard to really describe the immense beauty of Victoria Falls. It’s a sight that amazes you every time you turn back to it. The indigenous name, 'Mosi-oa-Tunya’ ( literally meaning the 'Cloud that Thunders'), describes it perfectly. As you approach you just see this misty cloud and hear the incredible rumbling of water surging over the cliff and pounding the rocks and river below. The combination of its width and height (1,708m wide and 108m tall) classify it as the largest waterfall in the world although it is neither the tallest nor widest. But whatever you call it, it’s absolutely one of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen.  There is one set of “wet trails” where you can rent a big poncho and go out on exposed areas and really appreciate the amount of water moving over the falls. One moment it feels like you’re in the middle of a rainstorm and the next you’re back under the clear blue sky. You look over the edge and it’s as if it’s raining upwards. At one point you can clearly see the bridge just downstream that connects Zambia and Zimbabwe and watch people bungee jumping off the far side. It was at this point that I realized I had to bungee jump, no matter what. But we moved on, returned our soaked ponchos and headed down another set of trails that lead down to the river.

At the first overlook Amanda saw a large baboon emerge from the brush and head towards us. She booeked it back up the hill to Stephanie, leaving Alissa and I to fend for ourselves. I don’t know if the thing actually smelled something or was just feeling confrontational, but it bee lined towards me and I spun to face the railing clutching my camera. The little punk (he was actually probably at least chest high on me if standing) proceeded to grab the back of my shirt and jeans and attempt to rip my over the shoulder purse off my back. He succeeded in ripping the bag nearly in half and was rewarded with the entire contents spilling onto the pavement. Then the little bastard had the nerve to just sit there in front of me and rifle through my possessions.  Cell phone, chapstick, passport (Gracias a Deus) and hairties were tossed aside until he found what he wanted – a half-finished pack of Vitamin C cough drops I’d bought the week before when I thought I was getting sick. In the meantime, a ranger type guy heard us freaking out and came over to help. He told us to just stay still but when the thief’s buddies began pouring out of the woods and he started with this threatening “hoo hoo hoo” crap and we took off in the opposite direction. Our hero scared the baboons off with a big branch and retrieved my scattered belongings. My legs were like jello and my heart was pounding as I attempted to shove everything into the dry bag I keep my camera in. Needless to say we did not continue down the baboon infested trails but rather did some shopping in the parking lot.

Still feeling a bit shaky we walked out to the bridge where I learned I could go ahead and do my bungee jump right then rather than returning the next day. So I got signed up, Alissa and Steph did a zip-line across the gorge, and I went back out onto the bridge to harness up! Never once did I get nervous and second guess my decision and when it was my turn to get hooked up I was shivering with excitement. I had done my research and knew about the girl whose cord snapped last January, but honestly I felt incredibly safe the entire time. The crew was friendly and professional and very conscious of every safety check that needed to be done. Before I knew it the guy was telling me to keep my arms out (like I was flying) and to jump out as far as possible when he told me to go. Then it was “toes over the edge” and “one-two-three-four-five-BUNGEE!” and I was gone. You drop and drop towards the water and then snap back up towards the bridge feeling rather weightless. At the bottom you just spin like a top (glad I didn’t eat anything before hand) and continue bouncing until you settle at the bottom and a guy comes down to rope you in and bring you back to the bridge. I bet the whole thing is a little over a minute but what a thrill! I was walking like a drunk as I weaved my way through the catwalks under the bridge and emerged back at the street to my entourage of cameras (Thanks for documenting the whole thing girls! You got some amazing shots!). It was a pricey activity and I had to opt out of some other things the rest of the trip but it was worth every kwacha!

The last few days of the trip were mostly travel although we finally managed to arrive in Lusaka early enough to explore and found a mall with Subway and a movie theater! And I’m talking a legit theater with stadium seating and concession stands not the shack on the side of the road playing kung-fu movies like we have in Moz. We had early travel days getting back to Lilongwe (burgers, pizza, shop-rite, cornnuts, etc) and then finally an easy day down to Amanda’s site just over the Malawi border in Angonia. We got lasagna and cheesecake in the Malawi border town of Dedza, meet the Malawi education PCTs who are in training just down the road and were back in Mozambique for dinner. And now I’m going to return to The Dombe for a couple of weeks of much needed peace and quiet. I have less than four months left of my service and while I’ll still travel, this was my last big adventure. One trimester left and I’m homeward bound – with stopovers in Cape Town and Greece!

Free and Easy - Dierks Bentley

“There is great strength in letting go to realize that our actual needs are few and that our journeys are many.”

I look back at my decision to come here, to join the Peace Corps, and I can honestly say that I had no idea what I was getting myself into. We joke that we all joined  to “save the children” or “change the way the school system runs” or “bring peace/water/education to some struggling community”, but is it really a joke? I didn’t come into this thinking I would read 200 books in two years but I essentially have. I didn’t think I’d be teaching six hours a week and spending the vast majority of my time avoiding the ridiculously intense African sun. But I also didn’t expect to meet so many people that would so quickly become my family. Nor did I predict the relationships and bonds I would form with fellow PCVs that I may only see every couple of months or even once a year. I didn’t see myself bonding with my counterpart and his family like I have or having his daughter trust me almost as much as she trusts her parents. I couldn’t have told you that I would miss the smell of clothes fresh from the dryer more than I’d miss running water or my beloved fountain diet cokes. Or that I, someone who generally hates talking on the phone, would choose sketchy cell service over electricity any day of the week.

So what was I thinking when I started the application process? Honestly? I was thinking that I was about to finish graduate school and after having spent the majority of my life in class, writing papers and studying for exams I had no idea what to do next.  Sure, I could go get a job, but doing what? I could continue on with more school, but study what? And then I saw the flyer on the door of Alfred Hall as I went inside to prep the lab for my next class. If I didn’t know what to do maybe someone else could tell me. What little I knew about the Peace Corps included the fact that you couldn’t just walk in and say “I want to go to Madagascar to study the lemurs and teach local children why they should care about the environment”. Someone would look at my work and education background, talk to me about my interests and goals and send me somewhere to do something I was reasonably qualified for. Seemed like just the push I needed to get me moving – somewhere, anywhere.

And so I ended up in Mozambique teaching biology to eighth and tenth graders in a villa about the size of the Costco down the road from my mom’s house. I live in a cement house that would fit inside your average American living room where I cook on a charcoal “grill” and get light from a solar powered bulb. My water comes from a pump up behind the school and I bathe with a bucket behind the house. My housemate is someone I didn’t even know existed before September 28^th, 2010 but she now knows more about me than anyone else. My closest friends here, the people I would most likely confide in, are 12-15 hours away from me with less than reliable transportation. I went a year without seeing two of them.

But you know what I’ve learned? I can adapt to almost anything. I can learn a new language in nine weeks and starting teaching in it a month later. I can make a meal out of almost any combination of food items but still can’t seem to get a pot of rice to turn out right. I will gladly walk 6km to town just for a bottle of cold water but will usually choose a soda once I get there. Traveling eight hours each way for a weekend away is nothing if it means time at the beach with friends. There is not much more exciting that arriving in the city after six hours in the back of a truck to find a package from home waiting for you in an air conditioned office. Even better if it contains Nutella, shells and cheese, caramel Cadbury eggs or pictures of your best friend’s new baby. I’ve learned that I can get by with far less than I thought possible and that a bike wheel and stick can keep a kid occupied just as long as a fancy video game. I know that I am most definitely not the same person that left Colorado 20 months ago, or even 12 months ago, but that those changes might not be obviously seen. I know that I have the most supportive family and friends and I’m reminded at least once a week when I open a letter that people out there are thinking of me, praying for me and cheering me on.

So why did I come here? Honestly? Because I didn’t know what else to do to learn about myself. And I am again approaching that time when I will need to decide what I’ll do next, but now I know that it’s okay not to know. That it’s okay to take a risk and do something that may not turn out the way you think it will but that you will get something out of the experience anyway. Did I have to come half way around the world to learn these things? Probably not but it’s been an amazing journey and an incredible way to learn what I am capable of. And when it comes down to it I still don’t know anything for aure – why I’m here, where I’ll go next, what I want to do with my life -  but I do know that I’m the person you want with you when you get stranded in the woods!

 

*I couldn't find a song that truely followed my train of thought while writing this so I just let it be. any suggestions?

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?)

We Are Young

19/3/12

I should apologize for my lack of updates lately. I find it hard to sit down and write when so little has been going on. I feel like my day to day life is boring and repetitive and can’t imagine anyone would want to read about it but my mom assures me it’s not really that dull. So, I’m going to do my best to give you a thrilling account of my last month.

Back in February our Central cohort went up to Tete Province to visit the lake at the Cahora Bassa Dam. A volunteer who lives up there was in contact with the primary lodge and when there was a confusion over prices he suggested a different place that might be more in our price range. So Audrey contacted Casa da Pesca and got our reservation set up. The guy assured us there was enough room for all 17 of us coming up and said something about a boat being ready. A large group of us arrived Friday morning on the early bus from Chimoio to pouring rain but as the clouds started to clear we gathered and got a chapa out to the lodge. We arrived and were arguing with the motorista over the price per person when we started to look around unsure of where exactly we’d be staying. We saw a couple buildings and a couple boats on the water but nothing that appeared to be a “lodge”. As we walked towards the water it was suggested that maybe we had to take a boat to the house or maybe it was hidden amongst the trees. Dan, a Moz17er in Tete, joked that if we were sleeping on the large boat in front of us he was never returning to Zobue. Sure enough our silent guides lead us onto the slightly dilapidated house boat and we started seeing bunks and a kitchen. Sure enough we had found our “lodge” – a two story house boat with 17 bunks, a kitchen, gas grill, bar area, huge table and cushioned sitting area! Thinking back to Audrey’s conversations with the owner you can kind of gleam that he may have been implying a house boat but Audrey claims that between poor cell phone rede and his South African accent there was no way to be sure. Needless to say we had an incredible weekend on our boat on the gorgeous lake surrounded by lush green mountains. I’m sure if you went around the next bend you’d see Hogwarts in the distance. Seriously, straight out of Harry Potter.  And where elsebut Mozambique can you accidently book a house boat for your holiday?

Obviously it was hard to return to The Dombe after that weekend but once I’m back home I’m always glad to be there. Getting in and out of there can be a headache but I get into my routine and I relish the peace and quiet.  My classes have been going really well (I got positive reviews from both a fellow teacher and my visiting APCD!) and the students are doing well with the abstract topics of genetics. I had nearly 75% of my students pass my first exam of cells, DNA replication and chromosomes so I think I’m getting through to them. I have since covered transcription, translation, the genetic code and mitosis. This week I am going to have them physically act out the phases of mitosis using colored ropes as chromosomes. I’ll let you know how that works out!

This past weekend we had another Central social/planning event out at Casa Msika. We went here last year for my friend Diana’s birthday and just knew it was a must return to site.  We’re able to get casitas and camping spots as well as use their kitchen to cook our own meals. It’s a beautiful spot within a conservation area near the Chicamba Dam. It’s known for great fishing and the crocodiles in the lake. We however left the fishing to the professionals and stuck to the pool. But like the good volunteers that we are, we had a little planning meeting to introduce the newbies to the secondary projects we have going in country. I am the provincial coordinator for Science Fair so the other coordinators (for Tete and Sofala) and I gave a quick spiel about that after introductions for REDES(Raparigas Em Desenvolviment, Educacao e Saude), JUNTOS (Jovens Unidos No Trabalho para Oportunidades e Sucesso), English Theater and Fuemo (our equivalent of FBLA). The Moz17ers are great overall but we are especially lucky with the group we got in central. They just fit right in and our excited to getting going and willing to take a leading role when they can. They are still in their first trimester of teaching so that takes priority but they are such a positive group.

I guess that’s it really. My days at site filled with lessons, lesson planning, working in the library and reading (I’m engrossed in that Game of Thrones book series at the moment).  I’m starting to plan my travels for the first school break in April and will be heading north to visit my good friend Meagan in Quelimane and other PCVs in Namatil and maybe even Angoche. I’m itching for a beach trip! Oh and I have eight months left in my service…but who’s counting!

Fun – We Are Young

Whirlwind

I saw on a fellow PCV’s Facebook status that we’ve been here in Mozambique for 500 days now. That to me seems like a really long time when I can remember those first days so clearly. Okay, parts of those days so clearly. I was jetlagged, overwhelmed and nervous but honestly, I was always confident that i was where I was supposed to be. And now, 500 days later I am starting to think about my post Peace Corps travel and life plans. I’m going to focus on just the travel plans though because “real life” plans scare the hell out of me! But I’ll keep you updated on that as things come together and concentrate on the “here and now”.

Veronica

The new school year got started a few weeks ago and I’ll be giving the first test on Thursday. I went back and forth about which grade I wanted to teach and had pretty much settled with taking 8^th grade again. It would the same curriculum as last year so not a lot of work and the younger students are easier to handle. But since I’ve never been interested in human biology it would be another year of boring material and no challenges. Then one afternoon I was helping the DAP make the class schedules and she mentioned that they were switching 8^th grade to mornings and 9^th/10^th to the afternoon. And as we all know, those early morning hours and I have never quite got along. Jokingly I said just that and she looked at me and said matter of factly: “Then teach something else”. I had already eliminated 9^th grade because a year of plant biology would be way worse than two years of human biology. The 10^th grade curriculum is incredible and very enticing but its means older kids and being responsible for preparing them for their national exam. Again I debated, phoned a friend, polled the audience (i.e. asked Facebook friends) and decided it was worth the challenge. The DAP told me she had confidence in me, my knowledge and my Portuguese and her reassurance definitely helped me make that final decision. So, long story later, I am being brave and confident and taking on the 10^th graders and their attitudes so I can teach genetics, evolution and ecology. How cool is that?!

Aside from school, not a whole lot is going on in The Dombe. I essentially took over as librarian so instead of read for many hours a day and lesson planning at home, I do all that while sitting in the library and getting books for kids as they come in. Students have sign out books (we mostly just have outdated textbooks) but can’t actually leave the library. There are some desks in there and teachers can put assignments up on the board and it’s mostly calm. The other day I had like 50 8^th graders in about 15 minutes because the professors of both biology and history assigned something in their respective book and they all decided to come by at the same time! It was slightly chaotic and I had kids working onside on the little sidewalk area but kind of fun. The vast majority of the 8^th graders don’t know me so they were a little hesitant and did a lot of staring when I spoke. Two weeks ago my group (Moz15) was down in Maputo for our mid-service medical conference and it was a wonderful reunion for us. Some of these folks I haven’t seen since swear-in in December 2009! We had sessions in the morning and medical and dental appointments but for the most part we were free all afternoons and evenings. We ate wonderful food and partied hard in the city and just spent time together! Everyone is having their own unique experience so it was fun to catch up and compare. We were able to determine that Mona and I are amongst just a few volunteers who still don’t have energia and might have the all-around most mato site. Not sure that’s a title I really want but it’s all part of the adventure!

our "i'll rob you with a catana" looks

So things are going well. School is good and our Central region social calendar is filling up. The 17ers in our area are fantastic and I’m excited to start getting to know them better. And slowly but surely we are coming together and moving forward from the aftermath of the accident. I think it will be awhile before I can truly work through everything in my head but for now I am just happy to be here and will do my best to enjoy every minute of these last 9 months.

Whirlwind - Dispatch

Life Is A Highway

I’ve been trying to start this blog for a while now and just can’t seem to find the right words. So much has happened in the past two months and I’m still processing most of it. School ended at the end of October and I was proctoring exams in the first weeks of November. I finally had some free time to travel and coordinated a trip to the north with my friend Amanda for a couple Thanksgiving celebrations. I met her at the house of some other PCVs in Zobue, Tete on the Malawi border and we cut through there to get over to Mandimba and Lichinga in Niassa province. Malawi was beautiful and the roads incredible. We zig-zaged our way through in under six hours and crossed back into Moz in Mandimba via bike taxi. From there a chapa goes the 150km up to Lichinga on one of the worst roads I’ve seen. I understand that the road to The Dombe is unpaved and pretty crappy, but a section of a national highway, leading to a provincial capital should be better taken care of. My butt may never fully recover.  But the trip was worth it as I saw several PCVs for the first time since swear in and we had an incredible feast with the local Doctors Without Borders group. The day after Thanksgiving we took our leftovers out to Lake Niassa/Lake Malawi and spent a relaxing day getting sun and swimming. Along with a few other volunteers, I started my journey south the following day. Over the next couple of days I went from Lichinga to Cuamba to Gurue to Macuba to Gorongosa for a second Thanksgiving in the park. After stuffing myself with turkey, mashed potatoes, carrots, stuffing and pie for a second time I returned to Chimoio and Dombe to regroup before meeting my Mom and Marv in Maputo. Unfortunately I got roped into proctoring and grading the English exam for the second round of national exams and barely got out in time to catch my TCO bus to Maputo. And like my 15 hour flight to the states last June, after traveling in country on frustratingly bad roads and slow chapas, my 12 hour bus ride was a piece of cake. I arrived in Maputo at 5am and had a couple days to get my head together before Mom and Marv arrived.

Mom and Marv in Chidenguele

 

Now describing the next couple weeks will be difficult. We had so much fun and did so much traveling that I’m going to let my pictures do most of the talking (Mom and I both will have a bunch up on facebook here soon). But we started with a couple days in Maputo before going to Kruger National Park for three days of safari-ing. Shishangeni was just incredible. We were at one of the private lodges in the south part of the park and it was truly ‘chique’. Over the course of our four game drives (two early morning, two late afternoon) we saw elephants, rhinos, lots of impala, kudu, wildebeest, buffalo, lions, giraffes, vervet monkeys and so much more.  I honestly can’t describe my feelings as we approached the pride of lions picking the remnants off the previous night’s kill or seeing a massive elephant walk peacefully by our truck with its baby.

After our final game drive we returned to Maputo to pick up our rental car and start the journey north. Very little of the trip was preplanned and we hadn’t made any hotel reservations so we ended up rolling into each town with our fingers crossed and were lucky to find somewhere awesome every time. Lots of beachfront property for us. It’s going to be a rude awakening when I finally get back to The Dombe. We spent a stormy night in Chindenguele at a place on the dunes and a couple days on the beach in Tofo. Mom and I swam with the whale sharks (unbelievably cool, a true lifelister) and got a bit sunburned. Onto Vilankulos for our two day dhow ocean safari, lots more seafood and great company. We found a quiet little backpackers to return to for Christmas that was, of course, right on the water.

We got up to Chimoio and I was able to get a bed frame made overnight and a new mattress to take out to the mato. Dombe lived up to my descriptions as it was the hottest place we spent time but a few people were around for Mom and Marv to meet. They saw my school and my house, met Panda and had a cold coke in the vila. You’ll have to ask them for more impressions and opinions because that’s just life for me. But I think it was even a bit more remote than they expected. We arrived back in Chimoio as it was getting dark and met up with my friend Amanda for dinner. We “snuck” her into the hotel and she traveled back to Vil with us for Christmas. It never quite feels like Christmas here due to the heat and general lack of decorations and materialistic fervor but we had a great day on the beach complete with seafood dinner (Mom has a great picture of the platter we shared!). We then started our journey back to Maputo with a stopover in Zavora at yet another picturesque dune top resort. Arriving back in Maputo was bittersweet knowing it was our last night together but we had had an amazing trip. To be so far from home at this time of year is hard but having them here made all the difference. Plus we got to talk to Dad, Mary, Jesse and Ashlee and the kids on Christmas day. I love technology!

But then Mom and Marv left and “real life” began again. A good friend and fellow PCV was getting ready to return to America so I spent time with him in Maputo and caught up with others passing through. I had a rough travel day coming north and it took me about 14 hours to travel the 480ish km between Xai-Xai and Vilankulos. Luckily Drew was just arriving back in Vil from a vacation with his family in Paris and I was able to spend New Year’s Eve with him partying with a bunch of Zimbabwean tourists at a nearby resort. Both of us were exhausted from traveling but managed to rally and welcome in the new year until about 3:30am! Now I’m back in Chimoio preparing to head back out to The Dombe and start the new school year. I have no idea what exactly I’ll be teaching this year but I’m excited to get out to my new bed and get rid of this backpack I’ve been living out of for the past month. Feliz Ano Novo! Happy New Year!

Life Is A Highway - Tom Cochrane (It has to be his version because we mentions Mozambique!)

Fields of Gray

As many of you may have seen on Facebook, our Peace Corps Mozambique family suffered a tragic loss on December 20^th when five volunteers were involved in a road accident. Four brand new PCVs from the Moz17 group and one from my group were traveling to the coast for a day on the beach when the driver of the car lost control. Lena Jenison and Elizabeth Alden Landis died from their injuries and Mark Goldfarb, Derek Roberts and Mary Lager were evacuated to Pretoria, South Africa for treatment. As PCVs from the newest group, Lena and Alden had been sworn in on December 8^th and had been at site for less than two weeks. I had met them when I went to their PST week 1 and again at swear in and they were both just full of life and so excited to be in Moz. They were confident, beautiful girls and their energy and positive attitude was evident to everyone. I didn’t know either Lena or Alden that well but they were part of the family and we are all feeling their loss. My heart breaks for their families and for their fellow Moz17ers as they have to deal with all this so soon after arriving and during their first holiday season away. Knowing I saw them just a few weeks ago makes it that much more difficult to comprehend. Derek and Mary have both been released from the hospital and will be flying back to the U.S. sometime this week. My friend Mark suffered the worst injuries of the three and may not be released for a couple more weeks. He will also go back to the states to continue his recovery but isn’t stable enough to travel. I just saw him at our Gorongosa Thanksgiving and we spoke about how excited he was for the new year as he was taking on a new position to better connect PCVs and our science fair project with the government. The chances of him being able to return to service are almost zero so I’m glad I have those recent memories to hold on to.

Elizabeth Alden Landis

Lena Jenison

Over the past week or so, memorials for Lena and Alden were held in each region so we all had a chance to remember and reflect together. I attended the southern memorial in Macia (Mark and Derek’s site) on my way north. It was a small group as many PCVs are traveling but it was a nice opportunity to be together and work through our emotions. Only one Moz17er was present but he shared his memories of Lena and Alden and hopefully he felt supported by our presence. I think we’re all experiencing conflicting feelings of sadness, confusion, fear, relief and guilt.  Can we be relieved it wasn’t us without disrespecting the young women we lost? Will we be able to control these new fears and apprehensions about traveling and move forward with our service?  

As volunteers we take risks almost every day and have been since we made the decision to apply to the Peace Corps in the first place. We prevent malaria with prophylaxis and mosquito nets and intestinal issues by filtering and treating our water. We learn about cultural norms so we can make good decisions regarding how and when we interact with the community. But there are some risks nearly impossible to avoid. As we aren’t allowed to drive during our service, we take a chance every time we get into a vehicle to travel. Chapas are old, often in poor condition and always overcrowded. Motoristas (drivers) are can be erratic, hurried and not always the best of drivers. They have set routes and sometimes are the only option to get from one place to another but are constantly stopping and can be incredibly frustrating. A boleia (getting a ride in a private car) is essentially hitchhiking and usually very safe. Personal vehicles are typically in better condition, won’t be making so many stops, go faster and if you’re real lucky include air conditioning. You can be far more discerning when it comes to selecting a boleia but it has its risks too. A driver could have been recently drinking or might have crazy road rage issues. You may not realize these things until your under way and then be forced to decide to take the risk or ask to get out.  But if you ever plan on leaving your site you must face these decisions and weigh the risks. I can’t speak for everyone, but I’d say a vast majority of us have gotten into a chapa or accepted a ride that we weren’t completely sure about. Somewhere in our brain a little alarm went off but for whatever reason (we’re in a hurry, sick of standing on the side of the road in the sun, or racing against the setting sun) we got in anyway. 99% of the time everything goes smoothly and we make it to our destination but we also start getting complacent and ignore those gut instincts.  The events of December 20^th were tragic and something that will stay with us for the rest of our lives but maybe it will help us remember to listen to that voice, alarm or gut feeling and make the safer decision.

Fields of Gray - Bruce Hornsby