Battery Acid and Bats

I have been horribly negligent of this blog over the last two, well four, months. I could use the fact that I now live in a house with no energy or running water and that I have been battling a bat infestation and learning how to teach 4 classes of 50+ students who speak even less English than I speak Portuguese (I might, just might, have a vocabulary of 300 words). I’m sure none of those excuses would fly. So I’ll just ask for your patience and fill you in on our post-training adventures.

We finished training with a bang. Both of us passed our language exams, to the great excitement of our tutor who (rightfully so) took as much pride in our progress as we did. The swearing-in ceremony was at the US Chargé d'Affaires’ house, quite the luxurious venue compared to our humble little building behind the Cavel’s house. Despite our best hippy-tough efforts, there were few dry eyes when we swore in. We are only beginning our adventure, but it’s been a long road just to get this far. There was a strange weight to the words “Peace Corps volunteer” that day.

The next few days were a whirl of boxes and chappas (the small buses that cart people Mozambique). We arrived at the small village we will call home for the next two years and were greeted by our school director, our empregada (maid – a large portion of people in Mozambique have a maid. As uncomfortable as I am with it, it is a way to put money back into the local economy and is expected of us.), and two cats (one of them very pregnant). The director showed us around, the empregada swept the house out, and the cat promptly had a litter of kittens in our bedroom.

We were prepared for our house to be electricity free, but were under the impression that the school had solar power that we would be able to use to charge our essentials (cell phone and laptop). No such luck. We are without access to energy unless we hitchhike to Vilankulo, about 45 minutes away. So, we spent the first week negotiating bat-filled evenings with candles and wind-up flashlights. Bats: did I mention when we arrived, we were sharing our home with a healthy population of small bats. There is nothing quite like feeling your way down the hallway with a candle and reaching out to turn the bedroom doorknob only to find your fingers wrapped around the fuzzy backside of a bat.

We immediately set about remedying the electricity situation. We bought a beat-up generator off a kid on the street who had to disconnect it from his booming speakers in order to sell it to us. We found wire and a 12V battery in Vilankulo: the beginnings of a regular power station. Unfortunately, I had forgotten (if I ever knew to start with) the warning that car batteries should be transported upright. A few miles of hiking and an hour chappa ride after we purchased our battery, I was dismayed to find half of my backpack dissolved, the shirt on my back disintegrating and an acid burn spreading across my back. After a good dousing of water (the prescribed remedy for acid burns, in case you ever need to know), everything but my ego was relatively unscathed.

Fast forward two months. The bats are no longer sharing our airspace, we have graduated from candles to kerosene lamps, the generator/battery gig still isn’t quite working as we intended, but we can charge our phones and laptop at our house, and most importantly, we have begun our first trimester of school. It is a humbling and terrifying feeling to finally be putting into action the plan that has been almost 3 years in the making.
There have been challenges in the classroom. We have very few (practically no) resources. No textbooks (either for us or the students). No visual aids (unless we draw them ourselves). No electricity (and thus no light when it storms or is cloudy and dark). What we do have are some incredibly talented and motivated students who are, though they seem hardly to know it, the future of this country. I have to admit, I have a soft spot for my 12th graders, who are intelligent, funny, and more focused than most college students in the States. My 11th graders are a little more rambunctious, and there are a few trouble makers, but there are some serious students in those classes as well. I am sure a year of maturation will make all the difference.

The reason I have finally been able to write an update is that I am in Maputo for the weekend for a REDES (Raparigas em Desenvolvemento e Saúde) conference planning meeting. REDES is a girls’ empowerment organization started five years ago by a Peace Corps volunteer here in Mozambique. It has grown larger each year, and this year 55 students will attend the annual conference representing 31 local chapters. The project will be managed by the second-year volunteers this year, but those of us newly arrived in Mozambique are learning and helping in order to be prepared to take over leadership roles at the end of the year. I will be the official conference photographer and am shadowing the curriculum coordinator in the hopes of filling her shoes when her time here is up.

All in all, things are challenging but manageable. We miss everyone at home immensely, but are surrounded by an astounding group of Americans (otherwise known as our fellow PC volunteers) and are slowly making some Mozambican friends as well. I will try my best to update more often than every four months, but serious composition is difficult until we improve the power situation. Computer battery charge is too valuable to use for anything less than an emergency, so at home, I am restricted to the short messages I can send from our phone. We are loving all the e-mails and texts. We have undeniably the most dedicated friend and family on the planet! Until my fingers find their way onto a powered keyboard with an internet connection again, tchau meus amigos!

Xima

We’re officially finished with week three of training. Things are good here; we’re starting to be more comfortable with our new routines. There is something new to learn every day, and every new thing I learn makes me love Mozambique more.

Yesterday, all of our host moms got together and taught us how to cook some traditional Mozambican dishes. I arrived sans capulana, but was quickly outfitted with all the appropriate cooking attire: lenço (scarf), capulana (traditional skirt), and apron. We pounded, ground, mixed, boiled, and oh yes, I killed my first chicken. Being here even a short time has grounded me in much the same way backpacking does. The women here are tough, and they understand the value of every resource. I aspire to become more like them.

The clip above is video of me making xima (a local dish very similar to grits). You start with corn and start smashing, add water, keep smashing, add water, keep smashing. An hour and half later, you have the beginnings of xima. Boil for another hour and it’s ready.

Dad has another clip with more pictures, but it contains video of me actually killing the chicken. If you’re not squeamish and are interested, drop him an e-mail.

We are in Mozambique.

How can one statement encompass so many difficult-to-translate experiences? I guess I should start by saying AJ and I are both in one piece (obviously, since I’m writing this). There rest will just be hodgepodge of impressions.

It took us roughly 30 hours to travel from Philadelphia to Maputo. Once there, we had two days of vaccines and orientation in the city and then headed to Pre-Service Training(PST) on Saturday, Oct 3 (My 30th birthday!). We arrived in the afternoon and were greeted by a crowd of women singing traditional songs of welcome. I didn’t know voices could sound that thick. You felt it more than heard it: a blanket of sound.

All of our host mothers and sisters were holding signs taxi-driver style with our names on them. Of course, we don’t speak Portuguese, and our “irmá” (sister), doesn’t either, so we pointed and pantomimed our way home. Our host family’s home is luxurious. We definitely lucked out. We have some electricity and an indoor bathroom. (Note: In Mozambique, an indoor bathroom is a fifties-era bathroom with no running water. You flush the toilet by dumping a bucket of water in it and bathe with a bucket of water in the bathtub. Still, it’s better than the outdoor “latrina.”) We have our own (very small – maybe 10’ x 20’) building that is behind the main house, which gives us a little privacy.

The people here are incredibly friendly and welcoming, the countryside is beautiful, and the culture is, while still very foreign to us, appealing. The food is surprisingly reminiscent of deep southern cooking. One of my favorite dishes is xima. It is almost exactly like grits, just a little firmer. We had beef (another sign our family is well-off) in a peanut and coconut sauce last night. Delicious.

We are slowly picking up the Portuguese and figuring out how to function in this exciting new place. We are required to bathe twice a day (three if you count the bedroom bath required of married couples before, well, you know). You get two buckets in your bedroom – one for washing, one for “xi-xi” (urine). You can imagine our embarrassment when it was discovered a few days ago that we had been using the wrong bucket for the wrong thing. Our host father explained the proper usage of each bucket to AJ, sex pantomime included. Ah, cultural exchange.

Our days are crammed full for now. We have class from 7:30am to around 6pm M-F and 7:30 to noon on Saturdays. Because the family routines are much more regimented here than in the U.S. and because we have a long (45 minute) walk to class, we have to get up at 5:30am to make it to our first language session in the morning. By the time our second “banho” and dinner are over, it is often 9:30pm and time to sleep.

We have very limited internet access here. There are two functioning internet computers in town, 69 trainees, and 15 or so staff members. You get the idea. So, if you’ve e-mailed me and I haven’t gotten back to you, it means I haven’t gotten through my ginormous inbox of e-mail, not that I don’t want to talk to you. I know I’ve left out so much, but I could write fifty pages and still leave 90% of the last two week’s events out.

We are falling in love with our new home, but missing our old one. We LOVE e-mails, even if we only get to pick them up once every couple of weeks. So keep in touch! :)

Up, Up, and Away

It seems that each time I approach a pivotal moment in my life, the lens blurs. The days beforehand have a fuzziness to them, and then when the moment itself arrives, it is as if a giant hand turns the focus ring and the world sharpens.

Tonight, my perspective is vivid.

At noon tomorrow, our flight leaves for staging in Philadelphia. Wednesday morning, we board a plane to Johannesburg, and our Peace Corps experience will begin. My friends and family keep asking how I feel, expecting I think, to hear the usual excited, nervous, etc. All of those descriptors would be apt, but the overriding emotion I feel tonight is how privileged we are to have this opportunity.

In three days, we will share another people's customs and cares; we will learn to think in another language; we will meet new families and friends. I hope to contribute in the small ways I am able, and I feel an overwhelming sense that I will receive much more than I will be able to give.

Whether you are family, friend, or stranger. I hope this blog will provide a window to our experience in Mozambique. We are sure to make hilarious mistakes and encounter intriguing situations. Comment to your heart's content and remember, a letter or e-mail goes a long way toward combating homesickness.

Tchau meus amigos!