Year 1 - Week 10: Big Rig Riding

The best way I can characterize my thoughts on the town of Mambone is that I have a love-hate relationship with it. I love that it is so close. I love that we can pretty much go at will, albeit it requires a lot of walking. I love that it pretty much has everything that Machanga doesn’t have. And at the same time, I hate Mambone for these exact reasons. Considering we were rained out yesterday, we were committed to going, rain or shine.

But before we left, I had some laundry to do. I have gone way too many weeks in a row without washing my sheets. It just seems like such a hopeless activity. They are drenched in sweat when I wake up and they are drenched in sweat when I go to bed at night, so what’s the point? And I have to say, as I washed my sheets, I could not believe the color that the water became. I would say it was a combination of brown, black and green.

It appeared to be a beautiful day. My sheets should have dried fast and we would have clear sailing to Mambone. Or not. As we were crossing the river – which appears to have filled out over the last couple of weeks – it started to rain. And when we walked from the river to the vila, it started to rain more. The sad thing is even when it’s raining, it’s always sunnier in Mambone.

We did our shopping, finding more things than we anticipated: tomatoes and bread which we expected, a new power outlet which we did not. And as if you needed to ask, yes, the bread was much better than anything that we could get here. By the time we finished our shopping, the rain was still going, so we decided to wait it out over cold beers, the real reason we go to Mambone. Don’t judge us for drinking at 9:30 AM. You would be too.

Our beers polished off, and the rain having come to halt, we made our way back across the river, and then from the river back to Machanga. We got back just in time to cook lunch, which was our regular potato pancakes and eggs.

I filled out the afternoon mostly with reading, with a brief intermission to put in the new power outlet. Now, I’m not exactly an electrical engineer, so either our power outlet was going to work, or the house was going to explode. To be honest, we would be okay with either. The energy came on, and with a stroke of luck, the outlet worked. Great success! We moved the stovetop, which had been in Richie’s room, back into the kitchen.

Also of note is I had another discussion with the assistant directors about my workload. With the splitting of the 11th grade classes, I now had 35 classes a week to teach, way more than I expected and more than Peace Corps expects of us. I told him I’d be happy to teach each of the classes, if we reduced 11th grade from five times per week to three, but that couldn’t be done. He promised that the situation would be resolved.

I made my now-famous garlic bread and tomato sauce and we dined like kings. As I was eating, my parents called. There are few things that can keep me from eating, but having family call is one of them. I had a good conversation with them. I was especially excited by the fact that they had already booked their tickets to visit.

The last thing my dad said on the phone was “Well, I hope the wind blows the right way for you.” And boy did it. Just before our power went out, a hurricane-like wind came through Machanga. And then the rain came. And then the cold came. It was glorious. For another night, I didn’t have to fall asleep sweating.

We woke up Monday to the Machanga that we were used to: hot as hell at 7 in the morning. Although we went to bed in the cold, we woke up in a sweat. Nothing new there. Being up early, we decided to once again be ambitious and do something different. We committed to making onion rings at 7:30 in the morning when I threw together the beer batter. The recipe called for one cup of beer, and there was a lot beer left, so there was no use in wasting it. A 7:30 beer will do a body good.

With nothing to do, I got back to work on “The World is Flat.” With this book, I have to stop every couple pages because what I read was just that mind-blowing. It got me to thinking about my own situation. I’m an American, sitting in Mozambique, speaking a language imported from Portugal, and listening to British music on my Chinese-built iPod while reading a book. Crazy world we live in.

The onion ring test passed with flying colors. Usually, the first time we make something, it is an epic failure. But not this time. They looked like and tasted like onion rings, which is half the battle, and they made us ridiculously full, which is the bigger, more important, other half of the battle. It’s a shame the recipe requires a lot of time. We might be working them into our weekend rotation, when we have more time.

Content from lunch, I went to work. Five classes in the afternoon isn’t so bad, especially with no classes in the morning. I think it is harder on the kids. These kids are up early because they don’t have much of a choice, but they don’t start classes until 12:30. That’s a rough gig. But it’s no excuse for sleeping in class. As some students were writing some examples on the board, I noticed that a kid had his head on his desk. I watched him as the students continued writing, and he didn’t budge. So when I needed another volunteer, I knew exactly who to go for. I threw the chalk at him, hitting him in the arm. He got up, picked up the chalk, wrote a sentence on the board, and then kept his head up for the rest of class. Lesson learned.

After one of my classes, the kid who picked up a magazine asked me a question about a phrase he read: “kind of.” This is one of the advantages of reading – he is going to see things that are both complex and rarely taught. I thought about it, and with some translation, explained that it can be used two ways. With an adjective, “kind of” means almost or somewhat. With a noun, it means a type. And then there is “kind” by itself as an adjective. He laughed, but I think he understood.

Upon my return from class, the assistant directors told me that I no longer had to teach 10th grade, just 11th and 12th grade. This isn’t quite the solution I was looking for, but I’ll take it. It cuts my class load from 35 per week to 26. It’s just a shame we couldn’t negotiate on how many times per week 11th grade had to meet. I would have been happy to keep 10th grade if we could cut the 11th grade classes to even four times per week instead of five.

At this point, it’s out of my control. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel some guilt. I feel bad for the teacher who has to cover it because I’m sure it is more work for him than it would have been for me. But I also feel bad for the 10th grade kids. They were getting a different kind of education from me. That’s not to say I’m some master educator. What I mean is this: we learned Portuguese in a couple of months because, for among other reasons, we learned it directly from Portuguese-speakers. These kids will not learn the language as well, just because it’s coming from a non-native, non-fluent speaker.

The afternoon was a little out of the ordinary. Richie and I threw around the Frisbee with some random kids. The picked it up pretty quickly. We didn’t have to prep much for dinner. We were out of food, so we turned to canned veggies and rice. We burnt the rice, and the veggies were not great, but it got us threw another meal. We capped the night with a couple episodes of “Scrubs.”

Up early on Tuesday, I committed myself to finishing my book. And by 9:30, I was finished with “The World is Flat.” I think I have read more books here in Machanga than I did in all of college. Then again, there were a lot more distractions in college. After finishing the book, I started cleaning up the house a bit. Richie went to our newest bakery, which is much closer to the market. He told me that the girl working at the bakery wants to marry him. This can’t be good for Richie.

After an average lunch, I prepared myself for five classes in the afternoon. I think on this day more than any, I had great participation. I didn’t have to wait for volunteers to come to board. And more importantly, the kids are no longer afraid to make mistakes and are learning from them. They know that I’m not going to crack them with a ruler if they screw up. And they have started correcting each other. For the most part, I don’t have to make the corrections anymore; I just tell them that there is a mistake and they are able to find it. They are making good progress.

With classes over, two of the kids in my twelfth grade class came to get magazines from me. They both already speak decent English – good enough that one of them said that they were “depending on me to help them pass the national exam.” That’s why I’m here.

I looked forward to having a bit of afternoon to myself. That dream died quickly when one of the other teachers came to the house with a friend. We had a full conversation in English, which was nice. It was good to hear that learning a language was hard, and that we already were speaking decently. The teacher’s friend wanted to have a conversation tomorrow, so I told him to come by between 8 and 11.

Richie had to take care of dinner tonight. One of the teachers needed some tech help. Okay, “some” may be an understatement. One of the computers wouldn’t load Windows. This is the second computer that has done this, and it’s nothing I had ever seen before. I tried reloading Windows, as instructed, but it wouldn’t let me. I guess that is the problem with technology. It’s great when it works, but when it’s not working, everything falls apart. And although I can work in Windows pretty well, I know nothing about curing viruses.

Done with my tech duties, I came home for dinner. Richie and I were both pretty exhausted and in need of a good laugh – in need of some absurd humor. We went back to “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.” After a couple of episodes, our electricity went out, and we shut ourselves down.

At 8:30, the teacher’s friend came over for another conversation in English. I was curious to know how he learned English so well. His story was inspiring. His family had a lot of financial problems, to the point where they were not able to pay for his schooling for a couple of years. In those years he committed to learning English. And with the help of some other Peace Corps Volunteers, his English became pretty good. I feel like his story really is really telling. There is nothing that can stop you if you have the personal drive. He knew that English could be an escape and it has landed him a job. Now he wants to take that skill and put it to use in an American university. That won’t be so easy.

We talked until about 11 AM, just in time to start preparing for lunch. I had another five classes in front of me. These classes were with the new 11th graders that I acquired. The first group were amazingly fast learners – one or two examples, and they had it nailed. I’m definitely putting them on the fast track. The second group was a little slower, but it’s not a problem. They will get up to speed in due time.

On my way to help on tech duty, again, one of my students stopped me and said “Good night, Mr. Lee.” I was happy to hear English, but saw a brief teaching opportunity present itself. I told the student that we use “good night” when someone is about to go to bed, but you can use “good evening” at any other point during the night. He asked three or four more questions, and then I had to go. But the point is this: in that five minutes, he probably learned more than he would in 20 minutes in class. It is something that is practical, tangible, and will be put to use many times over.

Another computer went down to the same virus, so I banned a couple of people from using their flash drives, which are likely the source of the problem. I hooked the printer into a new computer, helped out with some Excel trickery, and we were rolling again. It has been an interesting experience working in the computer lab. I feel like it has been mutually helpful. I have learned some computer vocabulary, and they have learned some Windows hints. I had about 30 minutes to relax before to power went out on another hot night.

Thursday stared out a little rough. Walking to the market, my iPod ran out of battery 100 yards outside of the school gate – lame. The store where we like to buy eggs, both for their size and price, was out of eggs. But that didn’t stop me from getting a delicious and over-priced orange juice. Two of our regular market mamas were also out of eggs, and the good bakery was out of bread. So I had to go to the other bakery with bad bread and worse eggs. Last time we got eggs from them, eight of the 12 were rotten. We didn’t have high hopes.

On this day, though, our luck turned around. I was able to get some work done in the morning, writing out an exam for next week. All of the eggs were good. We had a very easy time lighting charcoal. We made an early lunch with more eggs than usual. And then it was off to work.

I had another full load of classes this afternoon. I have really come to enjoy the moment as I walk toward classes. On the first day of classes, I told my students that I don’t like being called “teacher,” that they can call me Mr. Lee. Now, when I head to class, some students will say, “Oh, good aftanoon, Mista Lee, how ah you?” It quickly puts me in a good mood.

I spent some extra time with one of my new eleventh grade classes to help them catch up. The rest of my classes were reviews for exams. There will be nothing new on the exams, and it shouldn’t be a struggle, but I know it will be tough for some. I was also pleased that students were asking questions about things they didn’t understand. I am glad that they are asking questions now. They know that I am here to help them.

My last class finished early, so I had some extra time to relax. And then Richie put me to work. He wanted a haircut. Normally this would be a boring act. But when one muzungu is cutting another muzungu’s hair, well that’s a show. A group of about ten kids watched me cut Richie’s hair. Then it became the talk of the teachers. We had a decent conversation with our neighbors about this – strange what people want to talk about.

And then on came our energy. I knew that I was back on tech duty, but I wanted to eat first. With that simple phrase, I bought myself an extra 90 minutes. The spaghetti sauce was good and the garlic bread was better than usual in spite of the bad bread. Tech duty was only for thirty minutes tonight, so my sanity was spared for a bit.

Short on money, Richie and I headed out to Vilanculos early Friday morning. We hoped that there would be a direct chapa leaving from Mambone to Vilanculos, but it wasn’t meant to be. So we took a chapa to the EN1-Mambone crossroads and hoped for a ride. First, a bus stopped for us, and wanted a ridiculous 500 meticais to get to the Vilanculos crossroads. We laughed and waited for something else.

That something else happened to be an oversized truck carrying a crane. There wasn’t room in the truck, but there was a whole lot of room behind the cabin. And that’s how we got to Vilanculos – sitting under a crane on the back of a double-wide truck. It was a “This is our life” moment for Richie and me. We paid nothing for the glorious boleia from crossroads to crossroads, and then a simple 20 mets into Vilanculos.

We joined Greg, our Mambone neighbor in a paper store in Vilanculos to buy some monster paper for test-giving. He laughed at us – and our filthy faces – when we walked in the door. We headed over to Smuggler’s to try our luck with the wireless internet and get some food. Internet was down, but the cheeseburger was delicious. Then we tried the pizza place, which also has internet, but we had no luck – kind of a bummer. Before heading to a Volunteer’s house, we picked up some food for dinner.

It was a low-key evening. There were about 10 of us for dinner. We dined outside, overlooking the ocean on an absolutely beautiful night. Exhausted from the day’s travel, I went to bed pretty early. It was a long day, and tomorrow, we’re celebrating Mardi Gras.

We got a surprisingly late start with the partying. The morning, much like my time in Machanga, was all about food. We had a late pancake breakfast, and shortly after we had a delicious hot dog lunch. This was going to be an all-American day. After lunch, I headed into the villa to get a pair of shoes. I was on a mission to find some black dress sandals at a reasonable price, but the lowest I was offered was 350 meticais (about 14 dollars), far too much. I didn’t leave empty handed though – I got a pair of nice dark brown sandals for 250. I’ll have to wait until Maputo to find cheap black shoes.

By the time I got back, the party was about to begin. More people had arrived and the alcohol started rolling in. The amount of beer and liquor we had was borderline obnoxious, but we had a lot of making up to do.

It was a pretty ridiculous party. I played beer pong with a Volunteer from Oregon. We represented the west coast well, going undefeated over five games. By the end of the night, everyone knew that the west coast was the best coast. We ordered in pizza, which of course was delicious (although it did a job on my digestive system). By the end of the night, everyone was sufficiently drunk, with one person passing out outside the house. That’s how Mardi Gras should be. I would call that a successful weekend: great boleia, great party, great time.

Back to Machanga on Sunday.