Richie discovered the secret to not waking up at 2:30 in the morning: staying up drinking until 3. I was long asleep by the time he returned and I was out to the point that I didn’t hear him stumble in. I was out cold until 8:30 and Richie was dead until 9.
It’s not just the sleep that was beautiful. Waking up late came with its own gifts. Having a morning that is only three hours long is much more manageable than a morning that starts at 5 AM. And waking up at 9 meant we only had two wait two hours to start preparing lunch. Needless to say, we were very happy.
Along with putting lunch together, Richie cleaned up and soaked some beans in advance of making chili tonight. The first go around was good enough to deserve another shot and tonight is the night. After lunch, the afternoon was productive. I sat on the patio in numbers and words, switching between copying GRE word lists and finishing Kakuro puzzles.
The chili that we made was a step up from what we made the last time, at least in my book. We threw in a can of salsa, which gave it some serious kick. I was very happy with the level of spiciness; Richie sweated it out. We spent the better part of our time with energy getting through most of “Blood Diamond.” It’s cool to watch here because almost all the parts filmed in the city were filmed in Maputo. We can pull out little things like license plates and mCel posters, telltale signs of Mozambique. My parents called late-night, just before our energy went out.
But my night didn’t end there. I’ve decided to try something new that could benefit me in many ways. Once the power went out, I spent the next hour in bed reading by candlelight. I figure that not only will this help me improve my vocabulary – I noticed at least 20 GRE vocab words while reading “The Economist” – but a later bed time may mean I can sleep later.
My master plan worked, although not as brilliantly as I had anticipated. I slept solidly until 4 (!), the latest I’ve made it without the help of alcohol. I rolled around for a bit before going back to sleep until 8:30. The rest of the morning was spent on the patio, between Su Doku and plotting out the types of questions for my final exam.
As we have closed in on the waning weeks of the trimester, our work loads have rapidly decreased. I have moved into review mode, getting my students as prepared as they can be without giving them the answers to the exam. Only one of my three classes today received new material, and it’s only because they were a week behind due to the holidays a couple of weeks ago. The reviews went pretty well. The students definitely do better at multiple choice than they do at having to write full answers; it should produce some encourage results.
After a few days of doing without – or more accurately, after a few days of trying to avoid it – we turned back to spaghetti and tomato sauce. And garlic bread made a glorious return. It was good, but it’s definitely worn on us. It’s more about the bread than the pasta at this point. We finished off “Blood Diamond” and snuck in an episode of “South Park” before the lights when out. Once the lights went out, the candles were lit. I read for an hour before going to bed.
I made it straight through to 4:00 again, but I woke up totally refreshed. Well what the hell am I supposed to do now? I relit the candles and knocked out another hour in “The Economist” before squirming around in bed for a couple more hours.
There was little to be done in the morning. I took care of the dishes and swept the inside of the house before “lesson planning” – writing the lyrics to “Beautiful Boy” on giant paper. I have a little more flexibility to do fun things with my eleventh graders for a multitude of reasons – more hours per week, no national exam, another year with them next year. And I know from teaching in San Diego that people tend to enjoy listening to music, even if it’s something they’ve never heard.
The plan went off pretty well. I had an easy day in the classroom and the kids got a nice break from constantly hearing my voice as the only English that they hear. When I came back from school, I was locked out of the house. Thanks, Richie. He came back within minutes of me getting to the door, so the petty crime was forgivable.
When the energy flipped on, I was asked to reproduce a planning form that teachers have to plan out. I told the person who asked me that I would need tens. I assume that he thought that meant ten minutes Mozambican time because he was shocked when I actually was done in ten minutes. While I dealt with the computer lab, Richie cooked dinner. The rest of the night was pretty standard: dinner, “South Park” and bed.
Wednesday was my last day of classes for the trimester, which is amazing since the trimester doesn’t officially end for another two weeks. But that is how things work here: test prep a few weeks out from the end, give the exam the second to last week, and return it the last week of the trimester. Normally, I’d go to the end of the week, but Mozambican Independence Day is tomorrow, which means school will be cancelled officially on Thursday and unofficially on Friday. With just two classes of test prep to give, I had the morning to myself.
I expected to be out of my classes quickly. These two groups of kids do not like to ask questions, so I gave them the information for the exam, asked if there were any questions (to which of course they said, “no questions, teacher”), and left. The only problem with leaving my first class early is that I had about an hour until the next class.
I filled the void by taking in a French class, which was interesting, but not for the reasons you would think. It was interesting because of how little the teacher – who happens to be one of our best friends here – actually did. He gave the exercises to a student to write on the board, during which time he sat under a tree. He continued to sit there as students copied down the material. Once they finished, he gave a 10-minute explanation on the material – the imperative form of verbs, not exactly a difficult topic – then left again while students did the exercises. It was amazing to watch. For the entire 90-minute class, he was in the room for maybe 15 minutes. More than anything, it made me realize that even though I do so little in the classroom, it’s still a hell of a lot more than the students here usually get. Even just walking around the classroom to help students with their exercise is different for them.
The afternoon was short. I prepped dinner before the energy came on. We shifted around our food schedule to have potato pancakes tonight, knowing that we had a long, long night of drinking ahead of us. Our neighbor came over with three terrible bottles of table wine, all of which went before we arrived in the villa. Then the beers came, followed by a terrible bottle of brandy. Mixing two types of alcohol usually spells trouble; mixing three is just stupid. By the end of the night, my world was spinning.
I was not happy in the morning. Not happy at all. My head was pounding and the yelling coming from our neighbor’s house was not helping one bit. I spent the vast majority of the morning in bed, torn between sleeping and reading. Just before lunch, I started to feel better. Judging the level of my headaches was simple: at 9, my head couldn’t stand the sight of anything; by 10, looking at a Kakuro puzzle hurt my head; and by 11:30, I was finishing them with little trouble.
Despite resting for the entire morning and eating a decent lunch, neither Richie nor I was right for the afternoon. Our neighbors helped our cause by bringing over some food – freshly killed chicken! – but even as we approached our normal dinner time, neither of us was in the mood for anything…except cookies. So for Mozambican Independence Day, we stayed in the house, watched “South Park” and ate cookies. And we could not have been happier.
While we stayed in, the rest of the country was partying. When I woke up at 3:00, the music was still pumping out of the barracas. Considering that just about every teacher was out, it became quite clear earlier in the evening that there would be no school on Friday, opening up a window of opportunity for me to make a quick trip to Vilanculos.
All in all, the transportation was pretty smooth. The toughest part of this trip was getting out of Machanga. Apparently, all of the drinking got to the boat people also because there was only one boat running across the river. Once I got to Mambone, though, things went by beautiful. I got a car going to the crossroads before I even hit the villa. And within minutes of getting to the crossroads, a car – with Greg and his girlfriend – arrived, offering a free ride all the way to Vilanculos. Excellent.
The only downside to the whole day was that I arrived during the two-hour lunch break for businesses, so everything was closed. I killed the time at a Volunteer’s house, just catching up. Once businesses opened, however, everything went smoothly. I got all of my shopping done in one store – a rarity – and my photocopies of my exams were done at a reasonable speed and price.
The rarities didn’t stop there. Usually when I go to Vilanculos, there are two common factors – Richie is there, and there is always a party. But this time, Richie stayed behind, wanting to experience Machanga alone, and everyone was quite tired from the holiday weekend. Instead of the typical party, we ate pizza and watched “Angels and Demons.” It was a good deviation from the norm.
I trucked out early on Saturday, committed to finishing up some last-minute shopping. Chocolate, which was hard to come by everywhere else in town, was readily available in the villa, and vegetables are always cheaper outside at the market than inside the grocery stores. Stocked up, I got on the chapa, which made decent time, and hauled back to Machanga.
Just as I was about to reach the school, I ran into Richie and some other teachers, who were heading over to watch a soccer game. Exhausted, I had no interest in going. The keys exchanged, I continued home for an afternoon of relaxation and reading.
For a change, we actually looked forward to dinner. One of the new items I found in Vilanculos was cheddar cheese sauce. This could be a game-changer for us in the interval before we get full-time energy (and therefore, the ability to refrigerate real cheese). We made spaghetti sauce, but more importantly, we made garlic cheese bread which was AMAZING! Then the ideas starting flowing in – cheese fries, improvements to the chili. We were very happy. After dinner, we watched one episode of “South Park” and I spoke to my brother before closing my eyes on another week.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Year 1 - Week 27: The White Man with the Red Pen
Taking part in all the science fair activities was like a travel a day: a lot of sitting, waiting, sitting in one place, until finally arriving. The only difference was that we didn’t have our requisite walk, thankfully. Either way, it knocked me out. In spite of a decent night’s sleep, I woke up exhausted. Luckily, there were very few things I had to do for the day.
While many of the teachers started drinking at a very early hour – nothing like boxed wine at 8:30, right? – I sat on the patio grading papers. Grading exams puts me in a terrible mood; grading this particular class was awful. This class was by far my worst class and I was especially angry with them because this was the class where I caught my cheaters. If there is one thing that they should have learned by now, it’s that you don’t piss off the white man with the red pen. By the time I got finished with that class, one in three kids had failed. Even when they cheat, they can’t pass. Ridiculous.
The afternoon was pretty calm. After clearing my mind with a couple of Kakuro puzzles, I finished grading my last set of exams. This class did much better. There were two near-perfect scores which, in my mind, justifies the difficulty of the exam. If one person can do that well, then there’s no reason – other than laziness – that others can’t.
Having worked for most of the day, I gave myself the rest of the afternoon off. I squeezed in a nap before our energy turned on. We were feeling particularly lazy, so we dug in to some of the supplies that my aunt sent me – a can of chili, which was delicious, and a can of ravioli, which was not as good, but still pretty damn good (I mean, it’s ravioli!). Just after we ate, our neighbor came over with a bottle of gin. Neither of us really wanted to drink, but we’re not going to turn down free gin. As we drank, we watched this terrible movie that he brought over. Sadly, it kept freezing on us. So eventually, we just gave up and turned to reliable episodes of “South Park” before going to sleep.
I was in a deep sleep when I woke up, refreshed, at 11:30 at night, to the sight of electricity. What happened? Now I’m just confused. I flipped the light out and went back to bed, slightly dazed. That incident in the past, I slept through the rest of the night just fine.
When I woke up, I knew I didn’t want to teach. I was still pissed off from grading, and having to give another round of exams this week, I knew I was going to be in for more crappy exams. I decided that I would give my classes busy work: they could use the practice anyway. I planned out my lesson, taken from a couple different books, and altered the exam just a bit before heading off to class.
The class that got the exam today was definitely a better class – more mature, harder working, and probably better cheaters than my Friday class. After all, I didn’t catch anyone cheating and only had to move one person and their wandering eyes. The other classes did decently with their work. They actually got done with it much faster than I expected which was good news for me. I’ll happily take the time that they give me. I got back from class with just enough sunlight left to throw around the Frisbee with Richie.
Neither of us was in the mood for spaghetti, but we didn’t really have a choice. Our tomatoes were on the brink of going bad and the bell pepper wasn’t going to last much longer. We cooked up our sauce but only a little spaghetti, instead choosing to commit the sauce to delicious soon-to-be-stale Mambone bread. It was a good call. After dining, we got the movie from yesterday to work, and watched some “Curb Your Enthusiasm” following the movie. Richie gave up shortly after and I followed suit.
Another morning, another day of grading papers. I’m very happy that I only have to do this a couple of times a year, although it sure as hell makes the morning pass by. With the little time I had left after correcting exams, I knocked out a couple of Kakuro puzzles.
The afternoon passed by quickly. I gave one quick class on prepositions to one set of twelfth graders. I gave my 11th graders the day off. After an exam and a day of tedious busy work, they earned it. Plus I’ve reached the end of my curriculum for this trimester. In order to keep a balance between the eleventh and twelfth graders, I’m almost always forced to cancel an eleventh grade class. To end the afternoon, I gave my exam to one last group of twelfth graders. Just another group to correct.
Following the exam, one of my students came over for some English help. He had a tenth grade curriculum with him. Maybe he was just practicing English – I wouldn’t be shocked, as he is one of my better students – but my guess is that he was helping out a friend. It was shocking to see what they expect the tenth graders to know. There is some vocabulary in there that definitely should not be taught.
Richie was feeling ambitious tonight. He was in no mood for spaghetti. I don’t blame him: we are getting seriously burnt out on our regular foods. We looked through our recipe book and found a recipe for vegetarian chili. Richie did most of the work while I corrected papers, and I got to eat a pretty delicious result. Of course, there was room for improvement, but for a first shot, I won’t complain. Usually, the first time we make things, they turn out awfully. This, however, we are not scared to try again. I entered my last set of grades and watched a bit of “Curb Your Enthusiasm” before going to sleep.
I had no work to do on Wednesday. No lesson to plan, no place to go, nothing to do. It was beautiful. The lesson for today was the same busy work that my eleventh graders got on Monday, so I was left to do what I do best: sit on the patio. With nothing to do, the morning proved to be amazingly long. The truth is I’d rather be busy than not, but outside of the classroom there is just not a lot to do. I figured I should make the best of my time, so I spent about an hour in a GRE book, brushing up on high school math.
The afternoon was an easy one. No real teaching to be done – just write exercises on the board and have the students practice. Lord knows that these classes need it. With my classes done on the early side, I made a late afternoon run to the market to stock up on bread and materials from cookies. We heard some utterly shocking news this afternoon that warranted making cookies: a teacher told us that even though energy would light up the entire town, it would not reach the school. Bull. Shit. We asked another teacher, and he said it would get here. So now we are just confused, but sadly, it is easier to believe the former than it is the latter. This place has a way of being upside-down sometimes. A lot of times, actually.
We went back to our regular spaghetti, although these days, it’s been more about the bread and less about the spaghetti. Richie claims he just can’t eat spaghetti anymore. Coming from an Italian family, he should be ashamed of himself. Dipping bread in our sauce, though, never gets old. Plus, tonight wasn’t about dinner: it was about wiping out the horrible news with delicious cookies. We downed half of our cookies while watching “South Park.” One step closer to diabetes, we went to bed.
With Thursday’s arrival, we got to the downside of the week. I had another easy day ahead of me. All I had to do was return exams to two classes. It’s amazing how much time gets wasted on stuff like this. Giving a test isn’t just giving a test – there’s a day to prep, a day to take the exam, and a day to go over all of the answers. That means that three weeks of every 11 week trimester are eaten up by exams. It’s kind of ridiculous, but it’s what they are used to.
The day passed by even faster than it should have. The class that I was supposed to teach during fifth and sixth period didn’t have a teacher during fourth period. I don’t ask why anymore. If there is an open class, I take it. Just as I was finishing up, the teacher showed up. And it was probably the wrong teacher to anger – one of the pedagogical directors. Oops. That’s going to require an apology for sure.
We were scheduled to have a meeting at 4:00, which everyone knew meant 5:00. So instead of showing up on time as we should have, we watched the Brazil – U.S.A. slaughtering of a soccer game. It’s awfully tough for a team to win when they only get one shot on goal. And Brazil just plays beautifully.
Two hours late, the meeting began. It wasn’t so much a meeting as it was a lecture. Our Portuguese friend was giving a talk on the history of education. It was nothing new for us, but it was probably a good lesson for the Mozambican teachers here. More important for us was the food that came after. The Brazilian Brothers from the church brought these killer egg and hot dog sandwiches and juice. Yes, I will happily take this food and juice. As delicious as it was, we were still left hungry. With most of the night – and therefore, most of our energy – taken up by the meeting, we went the lazy route and heated up some canned ravioli that tasted like dog food. We watched one episode of “South Park” before the energy closed out our day.
I had the same agenda for Friday as I had for Thursday. All I had to do was hand back exams. I was happily enjoying my book of Kakuro when a teacher came to our house. He said that the director needed to talk to me. Crap. I hate talking to the director, not because I don’t like the guy, but he is just intimidating. This is a guy with a lot of power – definitely not the type of guy to piss off. I thought he was going to give me a talking-to about his son’s English grade, which is quickly falling. Instead, he just wanted me to set up a computer. Okay, I can handle that. He was happy that it worked well. Even when he is happy, though, he looks like his eyeballs are about to pop out of his head. I did get some good news while I had the director in the room with me – he said that energy would arrive to the school. Score.
I quickly handed back my exams. Of course, no one had questions about the content. It’s always “Easy, teacher. No questions” when I go over it. With but a few questions about grades, I was off the hook early. I spent a lot of the afternoon trying to save Richie from a neighbor. This guy means no harm, but he is just annoying. First I distracted the neighbor, then I got Richie to throw around the Frisbee. But like a mosquito, this guy just kept coming back. Eventually I gave up. It’s Machanga – giving up is what we do.
Our energy came on a bit on the early side. Our neighbors said that they would cook us some food and we gladly accepted the offer. The last time they cooked for us, we got some delicious couve out of it, and we were hoping for the same time though. What arrived, though, was bitter – at least to my taste buds. Richie found it sweet. While he enjoyed, I turned to ever-reliable spaghetti. We watched an episode of “South Park” before Richie’s dad called. By the time he was off the phone, the energy was out, and the night was over.
I slept beautifully until about 3:30. I woke up for no reason other than having enough sleep, which was a bummer. Once we have energy, it won’t be a problem. With control of our own energy, we can go to bed as late as we want and we won’t be refreshed at 3:00. Regardless of feeling good, I stayed in bed – not a lot I could do about it.
There was a bit of activity going on in Machanga today. There was some ceremony – flower-laying or something – to commemorate the birthday of someone. Richie chose to go, but like the event with the governor, I opted out. I didn’t need to stand in the heat, wait, and then be disappointed by whatever was happening. Instead, I made a run to the market, where I stocked up on all the necessities plus some liquor for the night’s festivities.
With most people out and about, the day was pretty calm. It was a good day to start seriously studying for GREs. I cracked open the book and copied out word lists. Those lists will be a thorn in my side for months to come, but it’s a necessary pain. In between getting through lists, Richie and I threw the Frisbee, both by ourselves and with some kids.
The rest of the night could be calm or could get out of control. After dinner, the party will begin. Cheap whiskey is never a good idea, but we all okayed it. I expect myself to be useless for most of tomorrow.
Happy father’s day to one and all tomorrow.
While many of the teachers started drinking at a very early hour – nothing like boxed wine at 8:30, right? – I sat on the patio grading papers. Grading exams puts me in a terrible mood; grading this particular class was awful. This class was by far my worst class and I was especially angry with them because this was the class where I caught my cheaters. If there is one thing that they should have learned by now, it’s that you don’t piss off the white man with the red pen. By the time I got finished with that class, one in three kids had failed. Even when they cheat, they can’t pass. Ridiculous.
The afternoon was pretty calm. After clearing my mind with a couple of Kakuro puzzles, I finished grading my last set of exams. This class did much better. There were two near-perfect scores which, in my mind, justifies the difficulty of the exam. If one person can do that well, then there’s no reason – other than laziness – that others can’t.
Having worked for most of the day, I gave myself the rest of the afternoon off. I squeezed in a nap before our energy turned on. We were feeling particularly lazy, so we dug in to some of the supplies that my aunt sent me – a can of chili, which was delicious, and a can of ravioli, which was not as good, but still pretty damn good (I mean, it’s ravioli!). Just after we ate, our neighbor came over with a bottle of gin. Neither of us really wanted to drink, but we’re not going to turn down free gin. As we drank, we watched this terrible movie that he brought over. Sadly, it kept freezing on us. So eventually, we just gave up and turned to reliable episodes of “South Park” before going to sleep.
I was in a deep sleep when I woke up, refreshed, at 11:30 at night, to the sight of electricity. What happened? Now I’m just confused. I flipped the light out and went back to bed, slightly dazed. That incident in the past, I slept through the rest of the night just fine.
When I woke up, I knew I didn’t want to teach. I was still pissed off from grading, and having to give another round of exams this week, I knew I was going to be in for more crappy exams. I decided that I would give my classes busy work: they could use the practice anyway. I planned out my lesson, taken from a couple different books, and altered the exam just a bit before heading off to class.
The class that got the exam today was definitely a better class – more mature, harder working, and probably better cheaters than my Friday class. After all, I didn’t catch anyone cheating and only had to move one person and their wandering eyes. The other classes did decently with their work. They actually got done with it much faster than I expected which was good news for me. I’ll happily take the time that they give me. I got back from class with just enough sunlight left to throw around the Frisbee with Richie.
Neither of us was in the mood for spaghetti, but we didn’t really have a choice. Our tomatoes were on the brink of going bad and the bell pepper wasn’t going to last much longer. We cooked up our sauce but only a little spaghetti, instead choosing to commit the sauce to delicious soon-to-be-stale Mambone bread. It was a good call. After dining, we got the movie from yesterday to work, and watched some “Curb Your Enthusiasm” following the movie. Richie gave up shortly after and I followed suit.
Another morning, another day of grading papers. I’m very happy that I only have to do this a couple of times a year, although it sure as hell makes the morning pass by. With the little time I had left after correcting exams, I knocked out a couple of Kakuro puzzles.
The afternoon passed by quickly. I gave one quick class on prepositions to one set of twelfth graders. I gave my 11th graders the day off. After an exam and a day of tedious busy work, they earned it. Plus I’ve reached the end of my curriculum for this trimester. In order to keep a balance between the eleventh and twelfth graders, I’m almost always forced to cancel an eleventh grade class. To end the afternoon, I gave my exam to one last group of twelfth graders. Just another group to correct.
Following the exam, one of my students came over for some English help. He had a tenth grade curriculum with him. Maybe he was just practicing English – I wouldn’t be shocked, as he is one of my better students – but my guess is that he was helping out a friend. It was shocking to see what they expect the tenth graders to know. There is some vocabulary in there that definitely should not be taught.
Richie was feeling ambitious tonight. He was in no mood for spaghetti. I don’t blame him: we are getting seriously burnt out on our regular foods. We looked through our recipe book and found a recipe for vegetarian chili. Richie did most of the work while I corrected papers, and I got to eat a pretty delicious result. Of course, there was room for improvement, but for a first shot, I won’t complain. Usually, the first time we make things, they turn out awfully. This, however, we are not scared to try again. I entered my last set of grades and watched a bit of “Curb Your Enthusiasm” before going to sleep.
I had no work to do on Wednesday. No lesson to plan, no place to go, nothing to do. It was beautiful. The lesson for today was the same busy work that my eleventh graders got on Monday, so I was left to do what I do best: sit on the patio. With nothing to do, the morning proved to be amazingly long. The truth is I’d rather be busy than not, but outside of the classroom there is just not a lot to do. I figured I should make the best of my time, so I spent about an hour in a GRE book, brushing up on high school math.
The afternoon was an easy one. No real teaching to be done – just write exercises on the board and have the students practice. Lord knows that these classes need it. With my classes done on the early side, I made a late afternoon run to the market to stock up on bread and materials from cookies. We heard some utterly shocking news this afternoon that warranted making cookies: a teacher told us that even though energy would light up the entire town, it would not reach the school. Bull. Shit. We asked another teacher, and he said it would get here. So now we are just confused, but sadly, it is easier to believe the former than it is the latter. This place has a way of being upside-down sometimes. A lot of times, actually.
We went back to our regular spaghetti, although these days, it’s been more about the bread and less about the spaghetti. Richie claims he just can’t eat spaghetti anymore. Coming from an Italian family, he should be ashamed of himself. Dipping bread in our sauce, though, never gets old. Plus, tonight wasn’t about dinner: it was about wiping out the horrible news with delicious cookies. We downed half of our cookies while watching “South Park.” One step closer to diabetes, we went to bed.
With Thursday’s arrival, we got to the downside of the week. I had another easy day ahead of me. All I had to do was return exams to two classes. It’s amazing how much time gets wasted on stuff like this. Giving a test isn’t just giving a test – there’s a day to prep, a day to take the exam, and a day to go over all of the answers. That means that three weeks of every 11 week trimester are eaten up by exams. It’s kind of ridiculous, but it’s what they are used to.
The day passed by even faster than it should have. The class that I was supposed to teach during fifth and sixth period didn’t have a teacher during fourth period. I don’t ask why anymore. If there is an open class, I take it. Just as I was finishing up, the teacher showed up. And it was probably the wrong teacher to anger – one of the pedagogical directors. Oops. That’s going to require an apology for sure.
We were scheduled to have a meeting at 4:00, which everyone knew meant 5:00. So instead of showing up on time as we should have, we watched the Brazil – U.S.A. slaughtering of a soccer game. It’s awfully tough for a team to win when they only get one shot on goal. And Brazil just plays beautifully.
Two hours late, the meeting began. It wasn’t so much a meeting as it was a lecture. Our Portuguese friend was giving a talk on the history of education. It was nothing new for us, but it was probably a good lesson for the Mozambican teachers here. More important for us was the food that came after. The Brazilian Brothers from the church brought these killer egg and hot dog sandwiches and juice. Yes, I will happily take this food and juice. As delicious as it was, we were still left hungry. With most of the night – and therefore, most of our energy – taken up by the meeting, we went the lazy route and heated up some canned ravioli that tasted like dog food. We watched one episode of “South Park” before the energy closed out our day.
I had the same agenda for Friday as I had for Thursday. All I had to do was hand back exams. I was happily enjoying my book of Kakuro when a teacher came to our house. He said that the director needed to talk to me. Crap. I hate talking to the director, not because I don’t like the guy, but he is just intimidating. This is a guy with a lot of power – definitely not the type of guy to piss off. I thought he was going to give me a talking-to about his son’s English grade, which is quickly falling. Instead, he just wanted me to set up a computer. Okay, I can handle that. He was happy that it worked well. Even when he is happy, though, he looks like his eyeballs are about to pop out of his head. I did get some good news while I had the director in the room with me – he said that energy would arrive to the school. Score.
I quickly handed back my exams. Of course, no one had questions about the content. It’s always “Easy, teacher. No questions” when I go over it. With but a few questions about grades, I was off the hook early. I spent a lot of the afternoon trying to save Richie from a neighbor. This guy means no harm, but he is just annoying. First I distracted the neighbor, then I got Richie to throw around the Frisbee. But like a mosquito, this guy just kept coming back. Eventually I gave up. It’s Machanga – giving up is what we do.
Our energy came on a bit on the early side. Our neighbors said that they would cook us some food and we gladly accepted the offer. The last time they cooked for us, we got some delicious couve out of it, and we were hoping for the same time though. What arrived, though, was bitter – at least to my taste buds. Richie found it sweet. While he enjoyed, I turned to ever-reliable spaghetti. We watched an episode of “South Park” before Richie’s dad called. By the time he was off the phone, the energy was out, and the night was over.
I slept beautifully until about 3:30. I woke up for no reason other than having enough sleep, which was a bummer. Once we have energy, it won’t be a problem. With control of our own energy, we can go to bed as late as we want and we won’t be refreshed at 3:00. Regardless of feeling good, I stayed in bed – not a lot I could do about it.
There was a bit of activity going on in Machanga today. There was some ceremony – flower-laying or something – to commemorate the birthday of someone. Richie chose to go, but like the event with the governor, I opted out. I didn’t need to stand in the heat, wait, and then be disappointed by whatever was happening. Instead, I made a run to the market, where I stocked up on all the necessities plus some liquor for the night’s festivities.
With most people out and about, the day was pretty calm. It was a good day to start seriously studying for GREs. I cracked open the book and copied out word lists. Those lists will be a thorn in my side for months to come, but it’s a necessary pain. In between getting through lists, Richie and I threw the Frisbee, both by ourselves and with some kids.
The rest of the night could be calm or could get out of control. After dinner, the party will begin. Cheap whiskey is never a good idea, but we all okayed it. I expect myself to be useless for most of tomorrow.
Happy father’s day to one and all tomorrow.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Six Months at Site: Shout into the Darkness, Squeeze out Sparks of Light
Six months. One-fourth of the way done in Machanga. One-third of the way done with Mozambique. It’s a nice milestone. For half a year now, we have lived in the mato (the bush), the only muzungus in sight. And the truth is, even though there are still difficulties here, our lives are pretty easy.
Of course, there are still small obstacles, with our Portuguese – or our Mozambican Portuguese – still not up to par or with all the travel that we have to do just to get simple iteas. For now, the language remains the greatest frustration: we know that our Portuguese is pretty good because we have no problem speaking with native Portuguese speakers, but we still struggle to communicate some of the most basic ideas with colleagues and friends.
School also comes with its frustrations. There are still times – especially after giving an exam – that I feel like what I’ve been assigned to do here is pretty worthless. But I’ve accepted the fact that there are only so many things I can control, and the things that I can control, I should. What I can control the most at this point are the things I do outside of my assignment. And that is when I feel best about what I’m doing.
For example, one of my classes asked me if I could help them with math. Even after my long days of teaching, I am excited to help them with math, and I think they are happy to receive my help. It’s a situation where everyone wins: I get my best Portuguese workout, they improve at math, and we have a pretty good time doing it. It’s not in my job description to teach math, but to put it simply, we are here because we want to help.
Our helping is not just limited to students. I was approached by one teacher about trying to acquire a computer. I told him I would do my best. Then another teacher wanted one. In the end, it became its own project. Now, with the help of my mom and a wonderful non-profit, we will have computers coming here in July. It’s exciting – and it will be more exciting after I teach them how to work with them.
And in spite of the pains that my students often give me – whether it is their attempts at cheating or lack of participation – they are for the most part pretty good. On the whole, I don’t know how much they are retaining. But it can be seen in individual cases. It’s evident when kids come borrow dictionaries and hold on to them for weeks, or when they ask for magazines, or when they come over to the house just to practice speaking. Even if they butcher the language, it doesn’t matter – they are trying, even though they sure as hell don’t have to. And when they get it right, it’s even better. It may be just a small percentage who listen, who get it, who care. But that’s what my job is – give what I can, and let them take what they want. All I can do is shout into the darkness and squeeze out those sparks of light.
Of course, there are still small obstacles, with our Portuguese – or our Mozambican Portuguese – still not up to par or with all the travel that we have to do just to get simple iteas. For now, the language remains the greatest frustration: we know that our Portuguese is pretty good because we have no problem speaking with native Portuguese speakers, but we still struggle to communicate some of the most basic ideas with colleagues and friends.
School also comes with its frustrations. There are still times – especially after giving an exam – that I feel like what I’ve been assigned to do here is pretty worthless. But I’ve accepted the fact that there are only so many things I can control, and the things that I can control, I should. What I can control the most at this point are the things I do outside of my assignment. And that is when I feel best about what I’m doing.
For example, one of my classes asked me if I could help them with math. Even after my long days of teaching, I am excited to help them with math, and I think they are happy to receive my help. It’s a situation where everyone wins: I get my best Portuguese workout, they improve at math, and we have a pretty good time doing it. It’s not in my job description to teach math, but to put it simply, we are here because we want to help.
Our helping is not just limited to students. I was approached by one teacher about trying to acquire a computer. I told him I would do my best. Then another teacher wanted one. In the end, it became its own project. Now, with the help of my mom and a wonderful non-profit, we will have computers coming here in July. It’s exciting – and it will be more exciting after I teach them how to work with them.
And in spite of the pains that my students often give me – whether it is their attempts at cheating or lack of participation – they are for the most part pretty good. On the whole, I don’t know how much they are retaining. But it can be seen in individual cases. It’s evident when kids come borrow dictionaries and hold on to them for weeks, or when they ask for magazines, or when they come over to the house just to practice speaking. Even if they butcher the language, it doesn’t matter – they are trying, even though they sure as hell don’t have to. And when they get it right, it’s even better. It may be just a small percentage who listen, who get it, who care. But that’s what my job is – give what I can, and let them take what they want. All I can do is shout into the darkness and squeeze out those sparks of light.
Year 1 - Week 26: How Close Am I to Losing You
Partying late into the night and waking up early never is a good equation, especially with a travel day ahead. With four decent hours of sleep under my belt, I woke up to a dead house. I figured I could at least make myself productive and clean up a bit. As I contributed nothing to the party in terms of the preparation, I thought cleaning up was the least I could do. By the time the other people had awakened, all of the dishes were already done and the time for us to leave had already arrived. We packed up are bags, said our goodbyes, and did our customary Sunday morning shopping before the chapa shipped out.
The ride was a blur. Richie passed out before we left. I fell asleep shortly after and did not wake up until we were almost back in Mambone. If you are asleep for the entire ride, it really doesn’t matter how slow the damn car goes. Paid up, we bought a few more items and had a nice cold soda before going across the river. Back on the Machanga side, we made the walk back to our house and each of us fell asleep almost immediately.
We woke up, refreshed, to the energy already turned on. This was great news. If only we could sleep through the entire day until energy every day. We prepared and ate dinner before watching an episode of “Everyone Hates Chris.” Despite the pair of naps we got, both of us were still exhausted. Richie turned in early while I took phone calls from my parents and my brother. The calls ended at 10:30, a late night by Machanga standards, but even in an exhausted state, I am happy to talk to my family.
For a change – probably for the first time in 5 weeks – I slept through the night. Neither rooster nor dog nor small child could wake me up on this day. Sleeping for eight solid hours just about got me up to speed. I wanted to stay in bed, but I didn’t have much of a choice: there was lesson-planning to be done. I hate planning lessons, so I pushed it back as late as possible, doing anything to procrastinate.
As I prepared my lesson, one of our neighbors came over. He told us that he was leaving Machanga by the end of the week. Normally, this wouldn’t be such a big deal, but this was no normal situation: the person leaving was our clothes-washer, gardener, and – most importantly – one of our best friends here. We didn’t think what he was saying was real.
And when we did realize it, we took it hard. The bad news affected me for the rest of the day. I did not look forward to teaching, especially since he was in one of my classes. I was not teaching as well as I could, even with lesson plans in hand. To say the least, I was uninspiring. My saving grace for the afternoon was I was able to combine two classes and get out a couple of hours early.
The rest of the afternoon was pretty relaxing. Our neighbor set us up with a new clothes-washer/gardener, which was nice of him. Even though he doesn’t do a lot for us – not nearly as much as other kids do for other teachers – what he does for us is so essential.
Once the energy came on, I was summoned to the computer lab to help a teacher move some documents from a computer to a flash drive. That gives you a pretty good idea of the level of computer literacy here. I’m really hoping to help some people with that in the months to come. This lesson was quick, and it allowed me to get home and get cooking. With bell pepper in hand, we cooked up a pretty killer stir fry. Even though there is not a lot that could salvage this day, chocolate chip cookies sure as hell do help. We enjoyed our cookies as we watched some TV before turning in for the night.
Richie ran to the market Tuesday morning, leaving me with the dishes. It’s a good thing that he went to the market early: although we haven’t seen rain here for a while, it sure looked like a storm was imminent. After cleaning, I spent a little bit of the morning reading a Mozambican newspaper. It’s nice to speak well enough that we can basically understand the newspaper, in spite of the fact that written Portuguese is so much different than spoken Portuguese.
As we finished up our lunch, the rain started to come. At first, it was light – light enough that I didn’t bother to bring a jacket or umbrella. But right in the middle of one of my classes, the deluge ensued. The pounding on the tin roof made teaching nearly impossible. I was screaming my lesson while the students struggled to understand what was going on. By the end of the afternoon, the rain had let up, giving me a relatively dry walk back to the house.
The energy came on shortly after I returned home, and with the return of energy came the return of our Portuguese friend from a few weeks back. He returned to do a couple more interviews. We chatted, as I prepared dinner, about everything from his family’s history here in Mozambique to the NBA championship. He was very appreciative of the garlic bread that we gave him: he said he hadn’t eaten anything like it since arriving in Mozambique. We foreigners look after one another.
After dinner, we started watching “Flight of the Conchords,” but as we watched, I was once again requested to the computer lab. This time, a teacher needed to print some documents, but he didn’t have Microsoft Office – he had some sort of free shareware. Anyways, I loaded up the printer driver and got his document, for which he was very grateful. We finished up our second episode of “Conchords” and went to bed.
I slept pretty well, until the Larium kicked in around 5. I can’t really complain though: eight hours of uninterrupted sleep is a small victory in my book. I tried going back to sleep but the dreams running laps in mind kept me from doing so. The early wake-up meant I was in for a long morning. At least it started well: my sister, who I hadn’t spoken with in a long time, finally called. I was very happy to catch up with my long-lost sister.
No morning should be seven hours long It allowed me plenty of time to get some work done though. Richie spent the morning working on preparing the science fair, so I had a lot of time to clean up the house pretty well. With the house clean and after finishing more than my fair share of Kakuro puzzles, I went over to the laboratory to check on projects. Some of the projects are really good – some girl made her own soap. It’s impressive, especially when you consider how limited the resources are here.
The rain that arrived yesterday lingered around today. We had some light rain for most of the morning – just enough to ruin any hopes of keeping the patio clean. Richie escaped toward the end of the morning and, with our Portuguese friend, we cooked up stir fry. I think our friend is pretty happy to get away from typical Mozambican food.
Classes were pretty easy today. I was teaching the same lesson as Monday, but for two other classes. I think it went better than the first round, which is good. Those two classes in particular can use all the help they can get. Per the usual, I finished my classes early. I had a nice portion of my afternoon to chill with the rain.
Our Portuguese friend returned just before the energy flipped on. He stuck around while we cooked dinner, French toast with real syrup. Just as with the stir fry and garlic bread, he hadn’t eaten French toast in months. He was, again, grateful for what he got his hands on. After eating, Sozinho, our empregado – the guy who works for us – came over to say his last goodbyes. We gave him a backpack and some money, took a picture, and said
“tchau.” Alone, finally, we watched some “Flight of the Conchords” before sleeping.
Two nights in a row now, I slept well through the night. I had a busy morning, with little time to myself. I trudged through a little bit of mud to get to the market, where I had a very successful market run. For the first time since we’ve arrived – almost six months now! – the market had bell peppers. This might just spare us from having to go to Mambone this weekend to buy them. Upon my return from the market, I spent the rest of the morning writing out exams for the rest of the week.
Test-giving is both a welcome day and a day that I rue every time it arrives. I love not really having to do work. It’s tough to get in front of that many people, day after day, knowing that a very slim percentage actually care about what I’m saying. The correcting of the exams is what does me in though. Not only is it a pain in the ass, but I also get to see what the majority know – or more accurately, don’t know.
An easy day of work behind me, I thought about doing some real work and correcting exams, but I wasn’t ready to be disappointed. Instead, I waited for the energy to come on and cooked macaroni and cheese for dinner. Shortly after eating, two students came by asking for some help with English. I asked what they understood and they said “nada.” Then we read the first sentence and they translated it perfectly. They laughed, but it would be the only time: the rest of the time was a bit of a struggle. Not all of it was their fault – they were reading a pretty difficult text, so considering the level, I’d say they did alright. Once they left, Richie and I watched the last two episodes of “Flight of the Conchords,” finishing just before the lights went black.
For the second morning in a row, I had to work the entire morning. I don’t like this one bit. I’ve really enjoyed my cushy afternoon schedule. The whole morning was committed to corrected exams from yesterday. There is always a fear that the exam is going to be way too easy or way too difficult. Together, the two classes performed decently. There were some epic disasters – at least a couple people scored less than 20%, even with my generous partial credit grading – and at least three near-perfect scores. On the whole, most of the students passed, which is what the school both wants and expects.
I was right back to test-giving in the afternoon, this time for two more classes. Already in a foul mood from having to grade papers all morning, I was on the tipping point of going crazy. There was little room for error with these kids, and some of them chose to push it. I found one girl sitting on a cheat sheet. I walked to the back of the classroom, stood there for a bit, then approached her desk from behind, snagged the cheat sheet and her test, and dismissed her promptly. Two others had nearly identical exams. I have yet to decide what I’m going to do about them, especially both of them are actually decent students.
I returned home for what was supposed to be a two-hour break, but my break lasted but 15 minutes. A student from the other class came to my house to tell me that their teacher wasn’t there and they would like to take the exam now. Not a problem. I walked into the classroom and saw some of my questions written on the board. Grr. I ran back to the house, altered the test slightly, and returned to give the test. When I returned, I found another cheat sheet sitting on the floor. The kids from the other class passed over the notes, the little twerps. At least the notes had a little humor: not only were most of the answers on the cheat sheet wrong, but at the bottom it said “Vamos entrar ao mundo dos ingleses” – “Let’s enter the world of the English.” That’s rich.
I didn’t have it in me to do any corrections in the afternoon. Not only was I burnt out from the day – an actual 8 hour work day – but I was too frustrated to deal with any more exam bullshit. I took my seat on the patio next to Richie, who was taking a break from his science fair work, and let my mind wander through a couple games of Kakuro.
Richie and I split up cooking duties for the night. With no chicken remaining and with no shortage of syrup, pancakes made their way back into the meal rotation after a month-long absence. While Richie cooked the pancakes, I made cookie batter. After all, cookies are the most sure-fire way to eliminate the lingering feelings from a crappy day. That, and “Anchorman” will work every time.
I woke up to a strange sight: energy. More accurately, I was half-awake half-asleep when energy flipped on around 5 o’clock. That got me out of my slumber. I sent a text to my mom asking about Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals, to which I received the glorious response of a Penguins victory. Shortly after, my parents called, with most of the discussion revolving around the game, other sports action, and their amazing new flat-screen TV. Oh, the things I am missing out on…
Richie, up at the same time as me, was up and moving. He was putting together final preparations for the science fair. When I finally had enough in me to get up and out of bed, I saw something I never want to see again: a goat, dead, hanging from the tree in front of my house. I did not see that coming. I watched one of my students skin and cut it up with a smile on his face. All I knew at that moment was that goat was going to be delicious.
By mid-morning, just a few hours later than scheduled, the science fair began. I couldn’t believe how many people actually turned out for this thing: without exaggeration, a few hundred people were there. As we found out during the presentation, most of the people weren’t actually there for the science fair, but for the music and small performance that was to be put on.
The fair was actually pretty good – better than I expected. Some of the projects were really good. One girl made her own soap, which was awesome. I thought that project should have one, but the other members of the jury did not see it my way. Instead, a project involving light bulbs won. It was fine by me: I had it in my top 3.
After the fair, the organizing teachers, administrators, and participants all enjoyed a delicious goat lunch. This goat was prepared much better than the goat we had at Greg’s house for his birthday. Still, when I leave this place, I don’t envision myself eating goat ever again.
Up for 8 hours already by mid-afternoon, Richie and I were exhausted. Both of us gave up for a while, relaxing under wonderful fans. Later in the afternoon, I was awakened by the emergence of energy, the second time energy woke me up today. At least this time, it was for real. I prepared vegetables for tomato sauce while Richie continued to sleep. Once he woke up, we invited another professor over and began the celebration. Not only were we celebrating the end of the science fair, but we were celebrating the fact that we have now been in Machanga for six months.
We ate our spaghetti quickly and made our way to the villa to continue the celebration. After six months here, it’s amazing how normal everything feels. Okay, well not everything – I don’t think I will ever get used to seeing a goat hanging from a tree. But for the most part, this is it. This is home. This is our home.
The ride was a blur. Richie passed out before we left. I fell asleep shortly after and did not wake up until we were almost back in Mambone. If you are asleep for the entire ride, it really doesn’t matter how slow the damn car goes. Paid up, we bought a few more items and had a nice cold soda before going across the river. Back on the Machanga side, we made the walk back to our house and each of us fell asleep almost immediately.
We woke up, refreshed, to the energy already turned on. This was great news. If only we could sleep through the entire day until energy every day. We prepared and ate dinner before watching an episode of “Everyone Hates Chris.” Despite the pair of naps we got, both of us were still exhausted. Richie turned in early while I took phone calls from my parents and my brother. The calls ended at 10:30, a late night by Machanga standards, but even in an exhausted state, I am happy to talk to my family.
For a change – probably for the first time in 5 weeks – I slept through the night. Neither rooster nor dog nor small child could wake me up on this day. Sleeping for eight solid hours just about got me up to speed. I wanted to stay in bed, but I didn’t have much of a choice: there was lesson-planning to be done. I hate planning lessons, so I pushed it back as late as possible, doing anything to procrastinate.
As I prepared my lesson, one of our neighbors came over. He told us that he was leaving Machanga by the end of the week. Normally, this wouldn’t be such a big deal, but this was no normal situation: the person leaving was our clothes-washer, gardener, and – most importantly – one of our best friends here. We didn’t think what he was saying was real.
And when we did realize it, we took it hard. The bad news affected me for the rest of the day. I did not look forward to teaching, especially since he was in one of my classes. I was not teaching as well as I could, even with lesson plans in hand. To say the least, I was uninspiring. My saving grace for the afternoon was I was able to combine two classes and get out a couple of hours early.
The rest of the afternoon was pretty relaxing. Our neighbor set us up with a new clothes-washer/gardener, which was nice of him. Even though he doesn’t do a lot for us – not nearly as much as other kids do for other teachers – what he does for us is so essential.
Once the energy came on, I was summoned to the computer lab to help a teacher move some documents from a computer to a flash drive. That gives you a pretty good idea of the level of computer literacy here. I’m really hoping to help some people with that in the months to come. This lesson was quick, and it allowed me to get home and get cooking. With bell pepper in hand, we cooked up a pretty killer stir fry. Even though there is not a lot that could salvage this day, chocolate chip cookies sure as hell do help. We enjoyed our cookies as we watched some TV before turning in for the night.
Richie ran to the market Tuesday morning, leaving me with the dishes. It’s a good thing that he went to the market early: although we haven’t seen rain here for a while, it sure looked like a storm was imminent. After cleaning, I spent a little bit of the morning reading a Mozambican newspaper. It’s nice to speak well enough that we can basically understand the newspaper, in spite of the fact that written Portuguese is so much different than spoken Portuguese.
As we finished up our lunch, the rain started to come. At first, it was light – light enough that I didn’t bother to bring a jacket or umbrella. But right in the middle of one of my classes, the deluge ensued. The pounding on the tin roof made teaching nearly impossible. I was screaming my lesson while the students struggled to understand what was going on. By the end of the afternoon, the rain had let up, giving me a relatively dry walk back to the house.
The energy came on shortly after I returned home, and with the return of energy came the return of our Portuguese friend from a few weeks back. He returned to do a couple more interviews. We chatted, as I prepared dinner, about everything from his family’s history here in Mozambique to the NBA championship. He was very appreciative of the garlic bread that we gave him: he said he hadn’t eaten anything like it since arriving in Mozambique. We foreigners look after one another.
After dinner, we started watching “Flight of the Conchords,” but as we watched, I was once again requested to the computer lab. This time, a teacher needed to print some documents, but he didn’t have Microsoft Office – he had some sort of free shareware. Anyways, I loaded up the printer driver and got his document, for which he was very grateful. We finished up our second episode of “Conchords” and went to bed.
I slept pretty well, until the Larium kicked in around 5. I can’t really complain though: eight hours of uninterrupted sleep is a small victory in my book. I tried going back to sleep but the dreams running laps in mind kept me from doing so. The early wake-up meant I was in for a long morning. At least it started well: my sister, who I hadn’t spoken with in a long time, finally called. I was very happy to catch up with my long-lost sister.
No morning should be seven hours long It allowed me plenty of time to get some work done though. Richie spent the morning working on preparing the science fair, so I had a lot of time to clean up the house pretty well. With the house clean and after finishing more than my fair share of Kakuro puzzles, I went over to the laboratory to check on projects. Some of the projects are really good – some girl made her own soap. It’s impressive, especially when you consider how limited the resources are here.
The rain that arrived yesterday lingered around today. We had some light rain for most of the morning – just enough to ruin any hopes of keeping the patio clean. Richie escaped toward the end of the morning and, with our Portuguese friend, we cooked up stir fry. I think our friend is pretty happy to get away from typical Mozambican food.
Classes were pretty easy today. I was teaching the same lesson as Monday, but for two other classes. I think it went better than the first round, which is good. Those two classes in particular can use all the help they can get. Per the usual, I finished my classes early. I had a nice portion of my afternoon to chill with the rain.
Our Portuguese friend returned just before the energy flipped on. He stuck around while we cooked dinner, French toast with real syrup. Just as with the stir fry and garlic bread, he hadn’t eaten French toast in months. He was, again, grateful for what he got his hands on. After eating, Sozinho, our empregado – the guy who works for us – came over to say his last goodbyes. We gave him a backpack and some money, took a picture, and said
“tchau.” Alone, finally, we watched some “Flight of the Conchords” before sleeping.
Two nights in a row now, I slept well through the night. I had a busy morning, with little time to myself. I trudged through a little bit of mud to get to the market, where I had a very successful market run. For the first time since we’ve arrived – almost six months now! – the market had bell peppers. This might just spare us from having to go to Mambone this weekend to buy them. Upon my return from the market, I spent the rest of the morning writing out exams for the rest of the week.
Test-giving is both a welcome day and a day that I rue every time it arrives. I love not really having to do work. It’s tough to get in front of that many people, day after day, knowing that a very slim percentage actually care about what I’m saying. The correcting of the exams is what does me in though. Not only is it a pain in the ass, but I also get to see what the majority know – or more accurately, don’t know.
An easy day of work behind me, I thought about doing some real work and correcting exams, but I wasn’t ready to be disappointed. Instead, I waited for the energy to come on and cooked macaroni and cheese for dinner. Shortly after eating, two students came by asking for some help with English. I asked what they understood and they said “nada.” Then we read the first sentence and they translated it perfectly. They laughed, but it would be the only time: the rest of the time was a bit of a struggle. Not all of it was their fault – they were reading a pretty difficult text, so considering the level, I’d say they did alright. Once they left, Richie and I watched the last two episodes of “Flight of the Conchords,” finishing just before the lights went black.
For the second morning in a row, I had to work the entire morning. I don’t like this one bit. I’ve really enjoyed my cushy afternoon schedule. The whole morning was committed to corrected exams from yesterday. There is always a fear that the exam is going to be way too easy or way too difficult. Together, the two classes performed decently. There were some epic disasters – at least a couple people scored less than 20%, even with my generous partial credit grading – and at least three near-perfect scores. On the whole, most of the students passed, which is what the school both wants and expects.
I was right back to test-giving in the afternoon, this time for two more classes. Already in a foul mood from having to grade papers all morning, I was on the tipping point of going crazy. There was little room for error with these kids, and some of them chose to push it. I found one girl sitting on a cheat sheet. I walked to the back of the classroom, stood there for a bit, then approached her desk from behind, snagged the cheat sheet and her test, and dismissed her promptly. Two others had nearly identical exams. I have yet to decide what I’m going to do about them, especially both of them are actually decent students.
I returned home for what was supposed to be a two-hour break, but my break lasted but 15 minutes. A student from the other class came to my house to tell me that their teacher wasn’t there and they would like to take the exam now. Not a problem. I walked into the classroom and saw some of my questions written on the board. Grr. I ran back to the house, altered the test slightly, and returned to give the test. When I returned, I found another cheat sheet sitting on the floor. The kids from the other class passed over the notes, the little twerps. At least the notes had a little humor: not only were most of the answers on the cheat sheet wrong, but at the bottom it said “Vamos entrar ao mundo dos ingleses” – “Let’s enter the world of the English.” That’s rich.
I didn’t have it in me to do any corrections in the afternoon. Not only was I burnt out from the day – an actual 8 hour work day – but I was too frustrated to deal with any more exam bullshit. I took my seat on the patio next to Richie, who was taking a break from his science fair work, and let my mind wander through a couple games of Kakuro.
Richie and I split up cooking duties for the night. With no chicken remaining and with no shortage of syrup, pancakes made their way back into the meal rotation after a month-long absence. While Richie cooked the pancakes, I made cookie batter. After all, cookies are the most sure-fire way to eliminate the lingering feelings from a crappy day. That, and “Anchorman” will work every time.
I woke up to a strange sight: energy. More accurately, I was half-awake half-asleep when energy flipped on around 5 o’clock. That got me out of my slumber. I sent a text to my mom asking about Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals, to which I received the glorious response of a Penguins victory. Shortly after, my parents called, with most of the discussion revolving around the game, other sports action, and their amazing new flat-screen TV. Oh, the things I am missing out on…
Richie, up at the same time as me, was up and moving. He was putting together final preparations for the science fair. When I finally had enough in me to get up and out of bed, I saw something I never want to see again: a goat, dead, hanging from the tree in front of my house. I did not see that coming. I watched one of my students skin and cut it up with a smile on his face. All I knew at that moment was that goat was going to be delicious.
By mid-morning, just a few hours later than scheduled, the science fair began. I couldn’t believe how many people actually turned out for this thing: without exaggeration, a few hundred people were there. As we found out during the presentation, most of the people weren’t actually there for the science fair, but for the music and small performance that was to be put on.
The fair was actually pretty good – better than I expected. Some of the projects were really good. One girl made her own soap, which was awesome. I thought that project should have one, but the other members of the jury did not see it my way. Instead, a project involving light bulbs won. It was fine by me: I had it in my top 3.
After the fair, the organizing teachers, administrators, and participants all enjoyed a delicious goat lunch. This goat was prepared much better than the goat we had at Greg’s house for his birthday. Still, when I leave this place, I don’t envision myself eating goat ever again.
Up for 8 hours already by mid-afternoon, Richie and I were exhausted. Both of us gave up for a while, relaxing under wonderful fans. Later in the afternoon, I was awakened by the emergence of energy, the second time energy woke me up today. At least this time, it was for real. I prepared vegetables for tomato sauce while Richie continued to sleep. Once he woke up, we invited another professor over and began the celebration. Not only were we celebrating the end of the science fair, but we were celebrating the fact that we have now been in Machanga for six months.
We ate our spaghetti quickly and made our way to the villa to continue the celebration. After six months here, it’s amazing how normal everything feels. Okay, well not everything – I don’t think I will ever get used to seeing a goat hanging from a tree. But for the most part, this is it. This is home. This is our home.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Year 1 - Week 25: The Week of Being Useless to Society
Three. A. M. And dear god, I have to pee. But it is so unbearably cold that I had to decide whether to go or fight it off for a couple hours. The sweater and pants that I slept in – the same sweater and pants that I wore to the wedding – did not suffice in keeping me warm. After shivering for thirty minutes, I finally gave in. The next three hours, until Richie woke up, would be a miserable three hours.
As if the day had not started poorly enough, we missed three opportunities to catch rides into the villa. It was not that we missed them so much as that timing wasn’t on our side. One car passed by 30 seconds before we got to the road and two others turned in behind us. We walked the entire seven kilometers to the villa during a beautiful sunrise. This was the second time that we’ve made it all the way into the villa; with much cooler weather, this walk was much more tolerable than the first time we completed the walk of death.
A river crossing and four more kilometers later, we were back at our house. Needless to say, we were exhausted. We both knew that we would be useless to society for the day, so we did what we do best: gave up. I crawled into bed and four three and a half glorious hours, I slept a dreamless sleep. By 12:30, we were both awake and very hungry. We started up the charcoal, cooked some lunch, and continued being useless immediately after.
Each of us spent most of the afternoon horizontally. I powered through a very old “Economist” before napping again. Richie didn’t even try to stay awake. I woke up a little before the energy came on and started prepping ingredients for pasta sauce. My parents and grandmother called a little after we finished eating. Our pasta gone, we watched a couple episodes of “How I Met Your Mother” and went to bed.
I slept decently, although not through the night. I woke up for good when one of my best friends from the States called me at 6:15 (as instructed). It was nice to catch up, even at an almost unreasonable hour. With the early wake-up, I anticipated a long day. We had absolutely no food in the house, and with Richie being extra broke and actually working in the morning, the shopping responsibility fell to me. The market run did not look promising: the bread hadn’t arrived in the market, one store was clear out of juice and the potatoes looked shoddy. As I made my way into the last store, my luck changed. The bread from Mambone arrived, the last store had good potatoes, and to top it off, I got a ride from the villa to the school. Success!
Richie and I enjoyed some bread and then I had to get to work. I planned out my lesson on constructing and answering questions with “why.” I was a little nervous about the lesson. It’s tough to answer questions with why because, unlike other questions, there is no right answer and no clean structure.
Richie told me not to go to class, but with good reason: today is Dia das Crianças – Children’s Day. He had almost no students in class, but that’s because most of his students are actually kids. Many of my students are older than me, so they didn’t have an excuse. Still, I walked into my first class with 80% of the students not there. Like Richie, I gave up. I tried again at third period, but I didn’t even make it to the classroom: a teacher told me that classes had been cancelled. Beautiful. My stress over the lesson can wait at least another day.
With the afternoon free, I bummed around. I spent most of the afternoon with a “Rolling Stone,” courtesy of my aunt and uncle in Philadelphia. Their package could not have arrived at a better time. While my parents’ packages sit somewhere – probably in Beira, we started to run low on imported resources. Their goodies will get us easily through the week.
I looked forward to dinner. But then again, when don’t I? But tonight was a little different. We had freshly picked green beans straight out of our garden to throw in our stir fry and they were delicious. We are really looking forward to throwing them n beer batter later this week. We ate quickly and watched some TV before the energy went out.
As if one day off this week wasn’t enough, Tuesday was also a freebee. This time, there was a slightly legitimate reason: the governor of the province of Sofala was in town. An occasion like this in America might warrant one or two missed classes, but for us, this was a full day’s break. Our neighbors asked us if we were going to attend. Richie accepted but I declined. I knew better: there was going to be a lot of standing under the hot African sun, waiting, waiting and more waiting. I stayed home, cleaned the house, and prepared lunch, hoping that Richie would be home at a reasonable hour.
Five hours later, around 2:00, Richie rolled home. The timing could not have been more perfect; I had just finished making tempura green beans and onion rings – an all fried, very healthy lunch. The rest of the afternoon was pretty relaxing. We through around the Frisbee a little bit, I did some Kakuro and Richie – exhausted from his day in the sun – napped at least once before dinner.
Just as I had taken care of lunch, Richie took care of dinner. We ate quickly, as we usually do, then watched a couple more episodes of “How I Met Your Mother” before calling it a night.
I woke up Wednesday expecting to work. Hell, I was almost hoping to work. Our morning, normally filled with the sounds of children running around and bells ringing, was strangely quiet. Then our colleague filled us in: the governor was still in town to have a meeting with some of the teachers. Really? Again? Another day off? The funny thing is that Richie and I had joked months ago that we ought to take a week off in the middle of every trimester. Well, here it was. Once again, for the third day in a row, school was cancelled.
The strange thing was that almost all of the teachers were back by the afternoon. School didn’t necessarily have to be cancelled, except for one little thing: there were no students. It’s like they are purposely trying to find ways to get out of school. Meanwhile, we continue to be here, doing nothing this week. I told Richie that we should just go to Chimoio and Beira, an idea to which he was “not opposed.” Easy for him to say – I still have ten hours to teach this week, assuming school isn’t cancelled for the rest of the week, which wouldn’t shock me.
The afternoon was at least slightly productive, if “productive,” means “spending time in bed under a fan.” After a nap of epic proportion, I actually did something helpful. An English teacher – the guy who received my original 10th grade classes – needed some help with a lesson. I took a quick peak and explained what was going on and he seemed to pick it up pretty quickly. This was the second time he had come over this week, which is good: maybe he realizes that we are here not just to help the students.
Before we knew it, our energy was on. We prepped another night of spaghetti, although with no garlic bread this time – running out of bread makes us very sad. We finished the season of “How I Met Your Mother” which made us even sadder. Our minor depression could only be saved by some Oreos. The energy went out on time as usual, bringing another day of being useless to an end.
We woke up Thursday know that we would have to work. Well, knowing that I would have to work: Richie had to cancel his one class on Thursday to maintain balance with the other three classes he has. I had no such fortune, although I can’t complain that much. The greatest part of having class cancelled early week – besides not having to give class – was that my lessons for the rest of the week were already prepared.
After lunch, I headed over to school to actually do my job for a change. Kind of. I had no plan for twelfth grade because this class was the only twelfth grade teaching period that wasn’t cancelled. So I asked if they had math questions for me, and they came prepared. I spent that 45 minutes teaching math, followed by three more hours of English instruction with my eleventh grade classes.
I came home for dinner, hungry. All of that teaching really took it out of me. We cooked up food – followed by brownies – and watched “Che,” which was pretty good. We were just about finished with the movie when at 8:30 – poof! – there went the lights. They never go out early. There wasn’t exactly mass outrage: people just turned in early, so we did the same. Being in bed at 8:30 reminded me of being in third grade, except I wasn’t tired at all. I did a little reading and a little Kakuro by candlelight and then, at the much more reasonable hour of 9:30, went to sleep.
Before this week really started, it was already coming to an end. I can certainly see how Richie (or anyone) could be accustomed to a cushy two-day work week, but it might drive me to the point of insanity if I had that much free time. At least it was spent productively. I mastered the peg game that my aunt sent me, did crosswords, hell, did just about anything to keep my mind occupied.
There wasn’t a lot going on Friday. Some little kids spent the day on our porch, failing to teach us Ndau. After eating lunch, I headed over to the school. I had four hours of class to give, which is a piece of cake. They crappy part is that the four classes are divided so that I have a two-hour break in between classes. I got through the first set just fine, then committed myself to a nap. Just when I had lay down, a student from the other class came over: the other teacher wasn’t there and they wanted to get class done. Although interfering with my nap was unforgiveable, it was exactly what I had wanted. I taught my class, which ended early, then settled right back on the patio.
As we sat outside, our neighbor asked us if we wanted to go drinking in the villa. Like that is even if a question. And he owed us beers, so it would be a cheap night for us. Needless to say, a lot beer was thrown down. And a lot of beer was thrown up. At least I felt decent walking back home. As we walked home, Richie and I agreed to head to Vilanculos at first opportunity in the morning. We made some instant mashed potatoes before sleeping a beautiful sleep.
We woke up, cleaned up, and at exactly 7:00, we were out the door, heading to the river. The morning was bitter cold and foggy to the point of no visibility, which was cool when we crossed the river. It felt like we were pirates. We got to the villa, purchased our regular bread and Cokes, and immediately got a ride out to the crossroads. This travel day was shaping up well. Richie and I sat across from each other, which was a bad idea. We couldn’t stop laughing at each other because each of us had grown out moustaches for the party, which had a theme of “Mexico.” Being white in this country allows us to do shit like that – we’re the crazy white people anyway, so we have free reign to look goofy.
Within minutes of getting to the crossroads, we caught a private car to Pambarra, the crossroads for Vilanculos. Even though the driver hit every single pothole between the two crossroads, we still made amazing time, getting to the Pambarra by 10:30. Despite a small wait at Pambarra, we made to Vilanculos in a record four hours and thirty minutes. Not too bad.
Richie and I went on a mission once we got into town – hit the bank for money, then shop till Richie ran out of money. Since I put down 800 Meticais the last time we were in town, Richie owed me big time. We restocked on everything we needed, managing to remember the syrup this time, and headed to the other end of town to wolf down some Pizza. We jumped in a car to get to the other side of town, where we ran into some Volunteers just arriving from another town. We made our last purchases – straw sombreros for the party – and made our way to the house.
People were at the same time impressed and disgusted by our moustaches. I mean, these things were dirty. It’s not a good look: not for me, not for Richie, not for anyone really. Just before the party started, a group of people – Richie and I included – made a beer run. As we walked into the bottling shop, a man turned to us and said, in English, “You look like Mexicans.” Clearly, our costumes were convincing.
The party, per the usual, was pretty good. Sangria and margaritas – with actual Jose Cuervo – were made, along with a spread of Mexican food that would amaze anyone. We filled our bellies with tacos, homemade tortilla chips and guacamole to go along with all the liquor. Between being tired to start with and inducing a ridiculous food coma, I was down for the count.
Most everyone else decided to go out to a club, in which I found no interest. I was tired and my head was pounding anyways. I didn’t need my ears to bleed also. Four of us ended up staying in. Strangely, we found two things in common: all of us were from California and all of us wanted to play poker. So we anted up. Everyone put in 50 Meticais – a big two dollar buy-in – and we used candy as chips. After an hour and a half, I ended up winning the mini-tournament, taking it that beautiful 200 Meticais. It may not be much, but it will pay for the chapa home tomorrow.
As if the day had not started poorly enough, we missed three opportunities to catch rides into the villa. It was not that we missed them so much as that timing wasn’t on our side. One car passed by 30 seconds before we got to the road and two others turned in behind us. We walked the entire seven kilometers to the villa during a beautiful sunrise. This was the second time that we’ve made it all the way into the villa; with much cooler weather, this walk was much more tolerable than the first time we completed the walk of death.
A river crossing and four more kilometers later, we were back at our house. Needless to say, we were exhausted. We both knew that we would be useless to society for the day, so we did what we do best: gave up. I crawled into bed and four three and a half glorious hours, I slept a dreamless sleep. By 12:30, we were both awake and very hungry. We started up the charcoal, cooked some lunch, and continued being useless immediately after.
Each of us spent most of the afternoon horizontally. I powered through a very old “Economist” before napping again. Richie didn’t even try to stay awake. I woke up a little before the energy came on and started prepping ingredients for pasta sauce. My parents and grandmother called a little after we finished eating. Our pasta gone, we watched a couple episodes of “How I Met Your Mother” and went to bed.
I slept decently, although not through the night. I woke up for good when one of my best friends from the States called me at 6:15 (as instructed). It was nice to catch up, even at an almost unreasonable hour. With the early wake-up, I anticipated a long day. We had absolutely no food in the house, and with Richie being extra broke and actually working in the morning, the shopping responsibility fell to me. The market run did not look promising: the bread hadn’t arrived in the market, one store was clear out of juice and the potatoes looked shoddy. As I made my way into the last store, my luck changed. The bread from Mambone arrived, the last store had good potatoes, and to top it off, I got a ride from the villa to the school. Success!
Richie and I enjoyed some bread and then I had to get to work. I planned out my lesson on constructing and answering questions with “why.” I was a little nervous about the lesson. It’s tough to answer questions with why because, unlike other questions, there is no right answer and no clean structure.
Richie told me not to go to class, but with good reason: today is Dia das Crianças – Children’s Day. He had almost no students in class, but that’s because most of his students are actually kids. Many of my students are older than me, so they didn’t have an excuse. Still, I walked into my first class with 80% of the students not there. Like Richie, I gave up. I tried again at third period, but I didn’t even make it to the classroom: a teacher told me that classes had been cancelled. Beautiful. My stress over the lesson can wait at least another day.
With the afternoon free, I bummed around. I spent most of the afternoon with a “Rolling Stone,” courtesy of my aunt and uncle in Philadelphia. Their package could not have arrived at a better time. While my parents’ packages sit somewhere – probably in Beira, we started to run low on imported resources. Their goodies will get us easily through the week.
I looked forward to dinner. But then again, when don’t I? But tonight was a little different. We had freshly picked green beans straight out of our garden to throw in our stir fry and they were delicious. We are really looking forward to throwing them n beer batter later this week. We ate quickly and watched some TV before the energy went out.
As if one day off this week wasn’t enough, Tuesday was also a freebee. This time, there was a slightly legitimate reason: the governor of the province of Sofala was in town. An occasion like this in America might warrant one or two missed classes, but for us, this was a full day’s break. Our neighbors asked us if we were going to attend. Richie accepted but I declined. I knew better: there was going to be a lot of standing under the hot African sun, waiting, waiting and more waiting. I stayed home, cleaned the house, and prepared lunch, hoping that Richie would be home at a reasonable hour.
Five hours later, around 2:00, Richie rolled home. The timing could not have been more perfect; I had just finished making tempura green beans and onion rings – an all fried, very healthy lunch. The rest of the afternoon was pretty relaxing. We through around the Frisbee a little bit, I did some Kakuro and Richie – exhausted from his day in the sun – napped at least once before dinner.
Just as I had taken care of lunch, Richie took care of dinner. We ate quickly, as we usually do, then watched a couple more episodes of “How I Met Your Mother” before calling it a night.
I woke up Wednesday expecting to work. Hell, I was almost hoping to work. Our morning, normally filled with the sounds of children running around and bells ringing, was strangely quiet. Then our colleague filled us in: the governor was still in town to have a meeting with some of the teachers. Really? Again? Another day off? The funny thing is that Richie and I had joked months ago that we ought to take a week off in the middle of every trimester. Well, here it was. Once again, for the third day in a row, school was cancelled.
The strange thing was that almost all of the teachers were back by the afternoon. School didn’t necessarily have to be cancelled, except for one little thing: there were no students. It’s like they are purposely trying to find ways to get out of school. Meanwhile, we continue to be here, doing nothing this week. I told Richie that we should just go to Chimoio and Beira, an idea to which he was “not opposed.” Easy for him to say – I still have ten hours to teach this week, assuming school isn’t cancelled for the rest of the week, which wouldn’t shock me.
The afternoon was at least slightly productive, if “productive,” means “spending time in bed under a fan.” After a nap of epic proportion, I actually did something helpful. An English teacher – the guy who received my original 10th grade classes – needed some help with a lesson. I took a quick peak and explained what was going on and he seemed to pick it up pretty quickly. This was the second time he had come over this week, which is good: maybe he realizes that we are here not just to help the students.
Before we knew it, our energy was on. We prepped another night of spaghetti, although with no garlic bread this time – running out of bread makes us very sad. We finished the season of “How I Met Your Mother” which made us even sadder. Our minor depression could only be saved by some Oreos. The energy went out on time as usual, bringing another day of being useless to an end.
We woke up Thursday know that we would have to work. Well, knowing that I would have to work: Richie had to cancel his one class on Thursday to maintain balance with the other three classes he has. I had no such fortune, although I can’t complain that much. The greatest part of having class cancelled early week – besides not having to give class – was that my lessons for the rest of the week were already prepared.
After lunch, I headed over to school to actually do my job for a change. Kind of. I had no plan for twelfth grade because this class was the only twelfth grade teaching period that wasn’t cancelled. So I asked if they had math questions for me, and they came prepared. I spent that 45 minutes teaching math, followed by three more hours of English instruction with my eleventh grade classes.
I came home for dinner, hungry. All of that teaching really took it out of me. We cooked up food – followed by brownies – and watched “Che,” which was pretty good. We were just about finished with the movie when at 8:30 – poof! – there went the lights. They never go out early. There wasn’t exactly mass outrage: people just turned in early, so we did the same. Being in bed at 8:30 reminded me of being in third grade, except I wasn’t tired at all. I did a little reading and a little Kakuro by candlelight and then, at the much more reasonable hour of 9:30, went to sleep.
Before this week really started, it was already coming to an end. I can certainly see how Richie (or anyone) could be accustomed to a cushy two-day work week, but it might drive me to the point of insanity if I had that much free time. At least it was spent productively. I mastered the peg game that my aunt sent me, did crosswords, hell, did just about anything to keep my mind occupied.
There wasn’t a lot going on Friday. Some little kids spent the day on our porch, failing to teach us Ndau. After eating lunch, I headed over to the school. I had four hours of class to give, which is a piece of cake. They crappy part is that the four classes are divided so that I have a two-hour break in between classes. I got through the first set just fine, then committed myself to a nap. Just when I had lay down, a student from the other class came over: the other teacher wasn’t there and they wanted to get class done. Although interfering with my nap was unforgiveable, it was exactly what I had wanted. I taught my class, which ended early, then settled right back on the patio.
As we sat outside, our neighbor asked us if we wanted to go drinking in the villa. Like that is even if a question. And he owed us beers, so it would be a cheap night for us. Needless to say, a lot beer was thrown down. And a lot of beer was thrown up. At least I felt decent walking back home. As we walked home, Richie and I agreed to head to Vilanculos at first opportunity in the morning. We made some instant mashed potatoes before sleeping a beautiful sleep.
We woke up, cleaned up, and at exactly 7:00, we were out the door, heading to the river. The morning was bitter cold and foggy to the point of no visibility, which was cool when we crossed the river. It felt like we were pirates. We got to the villa, purchased our regular bread and Cokes, and immediately got a ride out to the crossroads. This travel day was shaping up well. Richie and I sat across from each other, which was a bad idea. We couldn’t stop laughing at each other because each of us had grown out moustaches for the party, which had a theme of “Mexico.” Being white in this country allows us to do shit like that – we’re the crazy white people anyway, so we have free reign to look goofy.
Within minutes of getting to the crossroads, we caught a private car to Pambarra, the crossroads for Vilanculos. Even though the driver hit every single pothole between the two crossroads, we still made amazing time, getting to the Pambarra by 10:30. Despite a small wait at Pambarra, we made to Vilanculos in a record four hours and thirty minutes. Not too bad.
Richie and I went on a mission once we got into town – hit the bank for money, then shop till Richie ran out of money. Since I put down 800 Meticais the last time we were in town, Richie owed me big time. We restocked on everything we needed, managing to remember the syrup this time, and headed to the other end of town to wolf down some Pizza. We jumped in a car to get to the other side of town, where we ran into some Volunteers just arriving from another town. We made our last purchases – straw sombreros for the party – and made our way to the house.
People were at the same time impressed and disgusted by our moustaches. I mean, these things were dirty. It’s not a good look: not for me, not for Richie, not for anyone really. Just before the party started, a group of people – Richie and I included – made a beer run. As we walked into the bottling shop, a man turned to us and said, in English, “You look like Mexicans.” Clearly, our costumes were convincing.
The party, per the usual, was pretty good. Sangria and margaritas – with actual Jose Cuervo – were made, along with a spread of Mexican food that would amaze anyone. We filled our bellies with tacos, homemade tortilla chips and guacamole to go along with all the liquor. Between being tired to start with and inducing a ridiculous food coma, I was down for the count.
Most everyone else decided to go out to a club, in which I found no interest. I was tired and my head was pounding anyways. I didn’t need my ears to bleed also. Four of us ended up staying in. Strangely, we found two things in common: all of us were from California and all of us wanted to play poker. So we anted up. Everyone put in 50 Meticais – a big two dollar buy-in – and we used candy as chips. After an hour and a half, I ended up winning the mini-tournament, taking it that beautiful 200 Meticais. It may not be much, but it will pay for the chapa home tomorrow.
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