Year 1 - Week 8: First Week of School

Traveling sucks. It’s never easy and rarely fun. But that doesn’t mean that one doesn’t see interesting things while traveling. On our way up to Beira a couple weekends ago, we saw one man selling chickens, and a man next to him who appeared to be selling a baby. On the ride up north this past weekend, it was more of a safari. A pack of monkeys passed in front of our car and we saw a hawk picking up a five foot long snake. Awesome, right?

The trip north was an overall success. We picked up some more things for the house, saw some long-lost colleagues, and drank cold beer. I think those three things equal success. Even two of those would have been fine.

The trip back down, though, sucked. On four hours of sleep, we actually got a late start heading back to Machanga. We got a chapa to the main crossroads right away and the ride was decent. A woman who spoke perfect English thought we were going to Maputo, and later Vilanculos. When I told here we were heading to Machanga, she said “Oh, I’ve never met anyone going there.” One can only wonder why.

Then things got worse. We waited for 45 minutes in a car heading south, then were told to switch cars, and waited another 45 minutes. I should have started drinking like the person who was sitting next to me. The ride was slow, but we eventually made it to Muxungue. There by 2:00 we knew it was going to be a close call getting back to site in daylight. We had to wait to get a car, and then paid too much for it, but it didn’t matter; we were back on the road. As sunset approached, we decided it would be best to go the Mambone crossroads instead of the Machanga crossroads.

And then we waitied more. Another two hours. Just as we were about to leave, and still collecting more people, the money collector started saying “tempo é dinheiro” – time is money. Bullshit, time is money. I gave him a smartass response and he replied with a chuckle. Getting home was officially ruled out: the water taxis stop at sunset out of fear of the hippo. Luckily, our colleague from Mambone took us in for the night. On the ride over – 30 people packed into the back of a pick-up truck, I spoke with a man who thought I was from Brazil (my Portuguese can’t be that good) and was sure I wasn’t 22 years old. Then I realized he was hammered and it all made sense.

We arrived in Mambone in pitch black. Their power was out, which we are used to. Indebted to our colleague for taking us in, we cooked him dinner and at the same time spared ourselves from a fish stew that probably would have probably turned out empty stomachs over. Then again, going on little more than a pack of crackers for the day, we probably would have eaten anything with a smile on our faces.

Richie and I passed out quickly, exhausted from our 12 hour, foodless day. And another long day was ahead. We set an alarm for 3:45, preparing ourselves for the seven kilometer walk to the vila, hoping for a car.

Of course, we did not see a single car pass our way, just a couple going the opposite direction to Vilanculos. The walk wasn’t terrible. We had food in our stomachs, we weren’t hung over like last time, and we both had our Ipods going. Walking to music definitely made the walk easier. You find the beat and stride to it. We made it to the river in good time, and we were back in Machanga by 6:30. At least we made it home in less than 24 hours.

I passed out as soon as I hit the bed. Richie wasn’t so fortunate. He thought he was teaching at 7:30, so he was prepared. But his class wasn’t until 8:30 – oops. He was back quickly and I was awake upon his return

By 11:30, I started preparing myself for my own classes – six 45-minute periods given to three classes. My first group was a set of 12th graders. Given that they have the most schooling behind them, I expected them to know a little bit, but was disappointed. They were limited, to say the least. At least I know where to start with them.

My 11th grade classers, to my amazement, were significantly easier. I had good participation, and good questions were asked in between the periods: the difference between “raise” and “rise,” and “look” and “see.” I was also happy by the fact that I overheard a student saying the class was easy to understand. I hope that after the two years, those 11th graders will speak good English.

The day, in spite of or maybe because of the full teaching load, went by quickly. It was almost time for the power to come on by the time I was finished. And it couldn’t come quick enough. After eating an early lunch, Richie and were both hungry. We cooked up some pancakes, which were decent, watched the South Park movie and went to bed.

We were awakened early to the sound of a hammer on metal, certainly a pleasant alarm. But after that, things went surprisingly smoothly. I put my sheet out on the line to dry – I could not believe how wet it got just from sweating – and cleaned up while Richie went to the market. Richie was told by one of the market mamas that our baskets that we were waiting for would be in during the afternoon. We were willing to wait to get them tomorrow.

In the meantime, we decided to spruce the place up a bit. With a couple of capulanas in hand, we but up some dividers between the kitchen and where we eat (I can’t really call it a dining room). It looked good. It looked like it was becoming our home.

After lunch, Christmas arrived in Machanga. Three packages – two from my parents and one from my aunt – got dropped off. I can’t tell you how excited we are to have protein back in our diets now. I am pretty sure that we have enough food to open our own World Food Programme tent. We are very happy to have these goodies. If a famine were to hit Machanga, I am pretty sure we would survive it now.

And the hits kept coming. The baskets we were waiting for were delivered to our door via motorcycle. I spent the rest of the afternoon creating a storage space for food. It hangs beautifully over our prep table. We are hoping that it holds up.

Dinner was good. The only bad part was as we were cooking, our outlet fell apart. I tried to fix it and, in doing so, slightly electrocuted myself. Still not a bad day. Actually, it was a pretty good day.

Wednesday meant back to work, not that we were gone from it for that long. I had a somewhat late morning start, eager to see what my 10th graders could offer. They could definitely use some molding. I’ll have two years to spend with them, so the ones who are committed will learn well.

By the afternoon, with no classes to teach, I was ready to do something. I headed to the market in the heat of the noon sun. On my way there, before I could reach the gate, an 11th grade student who works at the house across from mine stopped me. We had a brief conversation where he told me he was going to come over to study. I told him I would be around during the afternoon.

It was an interesting market day. For one, there was a new barraca open. I was intrigued by the large refrigerator, so I went to get a coke. The soda was not really cold and they charged more than my regular “cold” coke place. Unless they get it down to frosty, I won’t be going back there again. Also of note was that our original bakery – the one with terrible bread – no had bread, and it was delicious. We eagerly awaited our French toast dinner.

True to his word, the student from across the way came after I returned from the market, and he brought a friend with him. In fifteen minutes, I think I was able to get more across than I was in 90 minutes of class. And I think they learned more too.

Considering that our outlet had been burned, probably from the explosion a couple weeks ago, dinner had to be cooked in my room. The French toast was amazing. We were muito satisfeito. Usually, supper for breakfast is Richie’s job, but Richie was not feeling great, so I took over. After dinner, we moved toward our kitchen to catch the cross-breeze and watch “House.”

Just as I was about to fall asleep, my sister called. I mumbled to her that she should call back later. She called me back in the morning Machanga time. It’s funny when you can wake up the next day in Machanga and it is still the same day in California.

In between, it wasn’t a terrible night. There was a hard wind blowing through, which in spite of the lack of cross-breeze in the rooms kept us cool. I kept watching to see what the moon was doing – disappearing and reappearing from the clouds. I figured we would get some rain, and for ten solid minutes, we got a good downpour.

Thursday was a long day, by far the longest day I have had this week. I was slated for 8 classes – three in the morning and five in the afternoon. My tenth grade classes in the morning were better today. They give me hope. After lunch, I dreaded having to teach my other twelfth grade class. The first one was a disappointment. But to my surprise, this class was on top of it. They took a quick liking to me, to the point that one of the students asked me to be “Director of Turma,” essentially the person responsible for the class if anything goes wrong. I was honored, but told him I had to think about it.

The eleventh graders also did a nice job. I started pushing them into the past tense of basic verbs and they seemed to pick it up nicely. I had a double session with one class, followed by a single with another. During a break in the double session, I walked around the class to see how some of the students were doing. I would say it was a mixed bag. Some got it perfectly; others just needed a little guidance. But it was this moment that made the difference for a lot of kids. It seems like other teachers here might not give the one-on-one extra help, and that is my strength.

We broke from the break, and I asked the students who I worked with to write some sentences on the board. And they wouldn’t stop writing. As I watched this, I recalled a couple of lessons from Colin Powell’s autobiography, which I have been reading recently in my spare time. Don’t stop someone’s enthusiasm and give everyone a chance to be a winner. I felt like for those couple of minutes, those kids were enthusiastic and felt like winners.

I was scheduled for a double class instead of the single class, but the director wiped out the rest of the afternoon so we could have a staff meeting. Richie and I understood very little. We are never going to staff meetings again. Upon return, I showed one of the assistant directors how we could use Microsoft Excel for grades. I think he really liked the idea, as did a 9th grade Portuguese teacher, for whom I set up grade sheets.

As I set up his grade sheets, Richie cooked our spaghetti dinner. We ate quickly and continued on with “House.” The breeze continued for the better part of the night.

And thankfully so. Last night might have been the best night of sleep I have had here. I did not struggle to fall asleep, I did not wake up multiple times during the night, and I didn’t wake up in a pool of my own sweat. It’s nice to have a break from reality. It makes me look forward to the winter months all the more.

I do not have to teach on Fridays, so I have made Fridays available for my students to come to my house – “Casa dos Muzungus” – to receive extra help. I told them that it is not limited to what we learn in class; if they want to practice speaking or have other questions, I am happy to help them. By 9:15, I had three students at my porch, eager to receive some help. I happily put down my book and worked with them for the next hour. It is that kind of commitment – coming to me on their own time – that is going to separate those students from others.

The rest of the morning was usual, other than the continuing wind. For a change of pace, Richie and I swapped our regular kitchen roles – I prepped and he cooked. I was happy not to deal with the oil burns. After lunch, with clouds closing in, Richie decided to make a dash south for a birthday party. I, financially strapped and not able to hit a bank for a couple more weeks, decided to stick in Machanga.

I immediately realized why Peace Corps puts two people here. This place is lonely. And boring. If nothing else, Richie and I manage to keep each other entertained, threatening to leave early over little things like dropping a piece of potato, or stating the obvious like “It’s hot” or “You are cooking” as we have found Mozambicans tend to do. So I continued marching through the Powell autobiography. I am committed to finishing it by week’s end.

I guess one benefit of being here alone is I get to eat food for two. I made our standard amount of French toast, and managed to eat all of it in the same amount of time I would have eaten my regular amount with Richie. I watched a couple of episodes of “House,” with the last episode ending just as the power went out. With the breeze blowing hard, I went to sleep again without trouble.

I woke up once in the middle of the night when the rain began. I considered putting the buckets outside to collect water, but was too lazy and too comfortable to get out of bed. I could always pump water during the day – I didn’t have any commitments for the day.

When I awoke for good, amazingly at 8:00, it was still raining, and it looked like it had been raining for the better part of the night. I put the buckets out and they filled up quickly. I filled the water filters and put the buckets back out, and once again the filled up quickly. Given that it is a pain in the ass to pump and haul water, I decided to start filling anything that could hold water – buckets, bacias, tupperware, pots. I considered trying to fill a colander until I realized it had a few too many holes to hold anything.

Lunch was standard fare, and it took a while to get done. With Richie gone, I had to prep, light, cook, and clean alone. Put together the fact that our charcoal stove had been soaked with rain, lighting the thing was a bit of challenge, but nothing that a little petroleum can’t solve. But even the petroleum wasn’t working alone. As I blew on the coals to get them hot, a piece chipped off and hit me on both my upper and lower left eyelids, leaving a nice little burn mark. Painful, yes, but also fortunate that the coal didn’t catch my eye.

Along with regular food, I decided to make a can of American soup. It was just cool enough – I wouldn’t dare say cold – to warrant something hot. I’m sure it will cause my digestive system to do tricks.

The afternoon was spent with Colin Powell. And by the end of the afternoon, the rain had finally stopped, although the patches of blue sky were still limited. There may be some more rain in the immediate future. As afternoon turned to evening, I peeled some garlic – an always exciting activity – in preparation for dinner.

We made it through the first week of school physically unscathed, although our hopes may have taken a slight beating, for different reasons: mine for my expectations of my students’ English skills, Richie for his Portuguese skills. He definitely has a more challenging job having to teach in Portuguese. Soon enough his students will understand him easily and the teaching will come easily. I hope the same will be true for my students and me.