Year 1 - Week 13: Posh Corps

I was up on the early side on Sunday, but managed to sleep until a reasonable hour of departure. We were slated for an easy travel day – easy compared to yesterday and what we expect for tomorrow. We bought some bread and walked down to the pier where the boats cross the bay to Inhambane City. The bay was glass – perfectly still, reflective with almost no blur. The grey-blue sky matched the grey-blue of the bay; the only way to know where the bay ended and the sky began was a few sail boats dotting the horizon. I couldn’t take my eyes away.

We walked over to the chapa stand where a possibly drunk man asked for food and then cigarettes. He told us he was poor. We know. A man at the chapa stand told us that chapas only run to Tofo beach in the afternoon. That seemed a little suspicious, but we bought it. We caught a quick Coke and tried our luck again. This time, I asked a kid if chapas ran to Tofo, and he said yes. He too asked me for money, and I told him I’d throw him some change if he found us a chapa for Tofo. Within two minutes, we were off and running. The ride to Tofo sucks: the car stops every 300 meters on this potholed road to drop off or pick up.

But the destination is so worth it. Tofo is spectacular. The beach stretches for miles. The ocean fades easily from green to blue-green to dark blue. It’s hot, but it’s nothing a dip in the ocean and a shaded hammock can’t cure. After swimming, I ran into town to grab some food and drink. We were in for a long night.

The drinks were poured with ease. Almost too easily. And the more we drank, the easier the conversation came, in both English and Portuguese. I met a guy from Canada who has spent the last five years bouncing around the world – from the Caribbean to Egypt to Europe to South Africa and now Mozambique – teaching Scuba diving. Nice way to live. He crashed early, but I stayed up until 1 AM having a conversation in Portuguese with a Rasta man and a security guard. It was probably the best and most Portuguese I have spoken in a while.

Staying up until 1 drinking rum seemed like a good idea at the time, but I recognized the consequences at 3:30, when I had to wake up to catch the bus to Maputo. I can’t even say I was hung over – I was definitely still drunk. The nine-hour drive to Maputo was probably the nine most uncomfortable hours here. It was like someone took a two-by-four to kill a mosquito on my forehead, but didn’t get it the first time, so he needed a second shot.

By 1, we were in Maputo and checked into a hotel, complete with Wi-fi, air conditioning, and BBC. Hello, beautiful! I didn’t leave the room until dinner. I sat listening to news in English, downloading the new U2 album, reading Facebook comments from my birthday, and writing emails. I’ve been exposed to so little internet the last five or six months, I barely know what to do anymore. Richie and I left the room briefly, to indulge on a couple plates of chicken and beef. Upon our return, we were both back online, talking to friends and family, uploading pictures, being carefree about how much time we spend online. My family all told me what I realized a couple days ago – with this beard, I am my father from 35 years ago. We both crashed later than usually to the wonderful feeling of coldness.

Our schedule for Tuesday wasn’t exactly ambitious. We needed to do some shopping in the city for items we can’t even get in Vilanculos. We stopped in the Peace Corps office to try to get some money back from our trip down (which we should get tomorrow) and found our hotel. This place is ridiculous: four stars, buffet, Wi-Fi, pool, amazing. It’s like it’s not even a part of Mozambique, at least not the Mozambique that Machanga is in. Richie and I dropped off our bags in rooms that are as big as our house and we were off.

There was only one problem: we weren’t sure which chapa to use to get from one side of town to another. We asked a security guard who introduced us to a man who could help. We had this entire conversation in Portuguese and then he wrote a note asking the chapa drivers assistant to help “os dos senhores estrangeiros.” We laughed, told him we lived here, and he gave us simple directions. Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?

We knocked out our shopping pretty quickly and put some food in our bellies. Each of us thoroughly enjoyed our beef and chicken shawarmas. We were back to the hotel by 2, primed for some pool time. By the time we got back, some more Volunteers had filtered in to the hotel. The rest of the afternoon was relaxing: sitting poolside, catching up with old friends, waiting for dinner.

7:30 couldn’t come soon enough, and the spread that was put out was only slightly outrageous – chicken, some cheesy fishy thing, and many servings of lots of other foods. It’s going to be a good week for eating. After dinner, a couple of us watched the Chelsea-Juventus UEFA game on TV.

Wednesday was like a throwback to Namaacha: up on the early side, breakfast, and a day in training. We relearned how to lesson plan and what types of activities work well. We talked about some successes and some failures over our first three months at site. It was a productive day.

At lunch, all of the boys decided that we were going to weigh ourselves. We have all lost weight, and we wanted to see who had lost the most – and who can put on the most this week. Five of the seven of us lost more than 20 pounds. I’m down only 21, and I’m sure I’ve put on a couple pounds just in the last couple days here. We’ll weigh in again at week’s end.

Thursday and Friday bled together and are written together. Many of the Volunteers from around the region brought Mozambican counterparts with them to help develop secondary projects in their towns and villages. Richie and I chose not to bring anyone because our school is already short on teachers. The two days were mostly slow and often repetitive, at least for us Americans. But for the Mozambicans – the people who really need to know this – this was a good opportunity to see what goes into developing a project.

By Friday night, almost all of the Moz 12 Volunteers had rolled into the hotel for the weekend’s trainings and festivities. We spent some quality time hanging out, drinking gin or beer, talking about our experiences across the country.

We were all together for sessions on Saturday. The day was long. We got a brief introduction into who will be our new Country Director come mid-year. We had a survey on expenses and an update on the cholera situation in the country. And of course, three more shots to the left arm. Just when I think we won’t get any more shots, there are always more.

The afternoon on Saturday was more interesting. All of the major secondary projects met to talk about what they do. I am interested in Future Business Leaders of Mozambique. The amount of funding is huge, and the results are more measurable and tangible than the results from teaching. I think that is what I’m missing right now – something tangible, so I can say “This is what I did in my two years in Machanga.” More on that later.

All you really need to know is this: I’ve become good and fat this week. This isn’t Peace Corps; this is Posh Corps.