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.