You are part of my rear end

You are part of my rear end

We spent one morning at an orphanage/center for children who have unsafe situations at home. A volunteer who is just finishing his service works with the center, and part of his project was to organize the construction of an additional building where kids can sleep. I was in a bad mood when I arrived because of frustrations left over from the day before, but after playing with the kids for an hour my grumpiness was whisked away! We mostly just sang songs and played games with them, including Pato Pato Galinha (duck duck chicken, a Mozambiquified version of Duck Duck Goose) and a song about washing your hands, written by us:

Before you eat, wash your hands

After you go pee, wash your hands

Wash your hands, wash your hands

To be healthy, wash your hands.

It sounds better in Portuguese, and when you do the motions along with it. You’ll have to take my word for it. When we were teaching our games, the kids listened attentively and somewhat followed my explanations even though with my Portuguese it probably sounded something like “when me says ‘Simon said,’ to do the action that I does is doing it, and but more if me don’t not no says what said simon he did say, you has to can’t dos what the thing I did and does. It’s good understand?” I have to give a lot of credit to anyone who attempts to have a real conversation with someone learning a new language. It’s hard for both the learner and the attempting-to-listener. Initially, whenever I didn’t say Simon Says, they still all did the action, and I thought I had explained the directions badly. So it was a small gigantic accomplishment/surprise when one of the kids got up to be Simon, and when he didn’t say Simon Says some of them were not tricked into touching their belly.

Little by little, as my fellow trainee Mike always says.

The kids also taught us a few games. In one particularly memorable one, one person starts off as the snake who lost its tail (or rear end, depending on how you want to translate), and she points to someone and sings “you there, you are part of my rear,” and the chosen one crawls under the singer’s legs and becomes part of the rear. This continues on until everyone has crawled under all the legs and joined the end of the tail.

“Destiny, Destiny, No Escaping That’s For Me!” ~Dr. Fronkenshteen

Mozambique Fun Facts - Tidbits for the non-history-buffs like me:

- Recently independent from Portugal (26 years)

- Recovering from a civil war

- One of the poorest countries in the world

- Currency = metical (27 meticais to 1 US dollar)

- High illiteracy (but improving); general lack of teachers

- High malaria and HIV/AIDs rates

- Tourism is increasing (beautiful beaches! Good thing sunbathing is my most favorite activity in the entire world)

- Main religions = Christianity and Islam

- Transitioning from socialism to capitalism

- Very welcoming and friendly!

On Wednesday we experienced a whirlwind of emotions as our destinies were disclosed to us, e.g. we found out the sites where we will be living for the next two years. Here is everything I currently know about my new future home (Nauela, in the Zambezia province):

- Small community

- No electricity in the house

- No running water

- Teaching physics (#&%!?!) in a high school

- New site; I’ll be only Peace Corps Volunteer working there for now

- In the mountains = not too hot!

- High teen pregnancy rate

- Living in my own house, but on the family compound of a woman who works at the school and her husband

When I learn more I will correct any misinformation I may have given you. Who knows, maybe upon arrival I’ll discover an outdoor Jacuzzi with jets, a walk-in freezer to store my ice cream, and a toaster oven. But until then, I will be mentally prepared for more bucket baths, charcoal, and candlelight dinners. And I will take Balancing and Carrying Jugs of Water on the Head 101 from my sisters.

“What continent are you on?” ~Anonymous

(quotation borrowed from an email that I received a few weeks ago after going to the internet cafe for the first time in a few decades)

I believe I owe a bit of an explanation. Here I am, having been here for several weeks, already an expert bucket-bath taker, and there you are, left cliff-hung at the end of the previous chapter when I boarded the plane knowing only enough Portuguese to get around Hogwarts and to ask where the latrine is.

So, I have joined the Corps of Peace, the 17^th group to be in Mozambique (it’s in Africa), to teach biology. That really is about all I knew when I left, because plans around here have a habit of changing at the last minute, not existing in the first place, or existing but kept locked in a top secret high security vault and not made known to anyone until they are being carried out. So I am perfecting my ability to ‘go with the flow,’ whether the flow is a short walk with my host brother to watch a soccer game which actually turns into a 4-hour long hike, or whether it’s a flow of rain and mud down the path that I use as a shortcut and takes me sliding down with it.

But the basic structure is becoming clear to me now that I’m in the midst of it. We are education volunteers, currently being educated on how to educate. Training takes place in Namaacha, a town composed of rust-red dirt that sticks to everything and trees with purple flowers, near the border of Swaziland and South Africa. There are 51 of us (we are very conspicuous) each living with a host family for 10 weeks, while we attempt to cram an entire language into our heads and new foods into our bodies without our digestive systems launching a rebellion. At the end of training (if you make it through…dun dun dun) we will be sworn in as real live Volunteers, and sent to our individual sites around the country – which we find out next week! Once settled in there, where we will be alone or with 1 other volunteer, we start teaching around January. And thus begins what I am sensing will be the craziest 2 years of my life.

the road to Mike, Adam, and my houses, lovingly dubbed "Purple Tree Way" in honor of the landmark we use to locate the turn

where in the world is Mozambique?

My First Mozambican Friend

Meet Dercia. She has four years of life. She is technically my host-niece, but since I am still unclear about the intricacies of our gigantic family tree, I just think of her and the other 28 or so people I see around the house as my host-siblings. Every morning, she hangs out with me and sits on my lap or observes me while I break my fast. She loves to give high fives, brincar (play) in the dirt with her cousins, and make funny faces during dinner. She converses with me more than the rest of my host family put together. I can’t understand anything she says, except occasionally when she tells me that I have a big nose, and that my hair is growing (I don’t have a mirror, so these are good things to know). We are very good friends, and I hope she remembers me after I leave, because I will certainly remember her, for her openness and her honesty, and for always being genuinely excited to see me.

My First Bucket Bath

Before moving in with our host families, we had heard tales from previous volunteers about the infamous Bucket Bath. Supposedly, the Bucket Bath was full of interruptions from our mamás trying to show us how to scrub ourselves squeaky clean, or from little kids peering in through the bamboo walls. However, I have found the Bucket Bath Experience to be quite enjoyable and relaxing. Here’s how it works, in case you want to try it at home: put about 2 inches of boiling water in one of the big blue basins, and then add about 2.7 jars of unheated water from the giant water barrel next to the kitchen, and stick your fingers in to see if it’s a good temperature. It holds heat well so there is no danger of being left with only frigid water by the final rinse of your bath. You carry your bath – without sloshing too much out on the way – to the bath structure, which in my house (some people have indoor bathrooms. psh) is a 5x7 foot concrete box with a curtain door that blows in the breeze so that as you’re standing there naked except for your flip flaps (as our doctor calls them) you have a full view of an entire side of the house and the neighbor’s compound. Using the cup provided, carefully pour water over yourself, rationing it so that you don’t find yourself covered in soap suds with no water left. There is no electricity in the bathroom, so either I bathe in the dark and hope I got all the dirt off my feet, or borrow a candle and bathe by candlelight. It is quite romantic.

Above: where the magic happens

The First in a Series of Firsts: My First African Sunrise and Sunset

At the hotel in Maputo, the capital of Mozambique, on day 1

Nearing the end of the many-hour plane ride

So I am here (and who might you be?)

No, I am not your new Zum-bay teacher. Nor am I a Peace Corps Volunteer. I am officially a Peace Corps Trainee. Unofficially, I am curious, lost, far from home, open to anything that comes along, full of rice, frustrated and ecstatic to be here.

Life as a trainee is…not like a box of chocolates. I don’t know where I am going with this metaphor, which I never understood in the first place, because there are many ways of telling what you are going to get in a box of chocolates. You can a) look for the handy dandy map on the inside cover telling you which one is the vanilla cream, my personal favorite (usually a round one in the top left corner) or b) be a box-of-chocolates expert and know which shapes usually go with which candy, or c) cut the chocolate in half, or discreetly scrape some chocolate off the bottom, and look at the filling.

So after stalling for one paragraph, the metaphor has started to solidify in my head. Life as a trainee is indeed not like a box of chocolates (if you are, like me, of the belief that in a box of chocolates you can always figure out what you are going to get). We received a handy dandy map of the town we live in, but you really just have to wander around in order to learn the roads. I flip through my English-Portuguese dictionary every day, but often the most common words are the ones spoken and not printed. We have a detailed schedule of training events, but it’s better to just play it by ear. Now that I have completely confused myself by trying to compare my life to chocolate, let me give you a sample of one day:

5:15 - I may be able to achieve something I always wanted to do: start my day without depending on an alarm. The sun rises at around 5:15, and so do I (wow, “so do I” is a strange expression. I never thought about that before). I lie in bed for about 15 minutes, listening to the roosters, and the booming music from neighbors who enjoy early-morning tunes. Sometimes I go running with my host-brothers, or play frisbee with other trainees.

6:00 - take my bucket bath and sit down to a lovely breakfast of tea, a giant hunk of bread, and peanut butter.

7:30 - language class and tech training

12:00 – home for lunch

2:00 – more training

5:00 – hang out with other volunteers for a bit to practice our English, or go home and watch my host sisters cook dinner and practice my Changana (a local language that my family speaks all the time, of which I understand nothing)

8:00 – dinner

8:07 – start yawning

8:30 – write or do homework

9:00 – bedtime! It’s amazing how if you go to sleep four hours earlier, you can wake up four hours earlier.

The purpose of this blog is for us (you and me) to be able to keep in touch. Since at this rate I only use the internet about once every 47 days, I don’t know if it will serve its purpose. But, if you have any burning questions that need to be answered, such as “how do you flush a toilet with no running water?” or “how do you prepare a meal that is currently wandering around your house clucking its head off?” feel free to let me know, and I will answer here so all can see. No question will be considered stupid, unless it is, in which case I will send the answer to your personal email so you won’t be embarrassed in front of my entire fan base of 2 people.

Hino Nacional De Moçambique/National Anthem of Mozambique

Giving this my best shot with my 1 week of Portuguese…

Na memória da África e do Mundo

Pátria bela dos que ousaram lutar

Moçambique o teu nome é liberdade

O sol de Junho para sempre brilhará

Moçambique nossa terra gloriosa

Pedra a pedra construindo o novo dia

Milhões de braços, uma só força

Ó patria amada vamos vencer

Povo unido de rovuma ao Maputo

Colhe os frutos do combate pela Paz

Cresce o sonho ondolado na bandeira

E vai lavrando na certeza do amanhã

Flores brotando do chão de teu sour

Pelos montes, pelos rios, pelo mar

Nós juramos por ti, ó Moçambique:

Nenhum tirano nos irá escravizar

In the memory of Africa and of the world

Beautiful homeland that we dared to fight for

Mozambique, your name is freedom

The June sun will always shine

Mozambique, our glorious land

Stone by stone, creating the new day

Millions of arms, one force

We will win over our beloved homeland

A united people on the way to Maputo

Gather the fruits to fight for Peace

A dream growing, waving in the flag

And building up certainty about tomorrow

Flowers shooting up from the floor of your sweat

By the mountains, by the river, by the sea

We swear by you, Mozambique

No tyrant will ever enslave us

The Pre-Departure Post, Posted Post-Departure

Now presenting: a post that I wrote before leaving the US! How did I get behind on my blog before it even existed?

What I hope to gain from the next 2 years:

- A friend (hmm, that makes it sound like I have no friends now. No further comment)

- Some semblance of direction in my life (can be very vague/general/not permanent. Just any clue would be nice)

- Words (may lose some English ones in the process, that’s ok.)

- Teaching skills (hopefully sooner rather than later)

What I hope to give over the next 2 years:

- Love of the scientific method

- Friendship (to the one friend that I will hopefully make)

- Letters

- Support to other volunteers

You know that game where you imagine you’re stranded on an island, and you have to decide what you want to take with you? That’s what it feels like trying to pack for a 2-year-long trip. You have to figure out what you will need most, before you get there. Luckily, I hate stuff. So it’s easy for me to convince myself I won’t need something, so I don’t have to carry it along. Don’t be surprised if I come home wearing the same clothes I left in (washed after each use, of course). Disclaimer: do not ask me to help you pack for a long trip. My method of packing as little as possible is a little bit too efficient. Sorry Val.

Things I am taking with me, in order of most àleast important:

- Juggling balls

- Letter writing materials, and the addresses of everyone I know

- My collection of nose + moustache glasses

- Deodorant

- A headlamp

- Durable shoes

- A few clothes

- and some other trivial things that I’ll get around to packing eventually

My assignment:

is to teach secondary school biology. In Portuguese. That’s about all I know.

I made it through 80 pages of Harry Potter e o Cálice de Fogo (Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire) so I am way ahead in my language training, since I already know how to say ‘Quidditch,’ ‘muggle,’ and ‘He Who Must Not Be Named’ in Portuguese.