Year 2 - Week 30: The Cheeseburger of My Dreams

As people started to pile back into the house after a long night of drinking, I knew I was going to be in for a long night of not sleeping. Coming off sickness and a long travel day, this wouldn't be ideal, but I had little say in the matter. I'd be okay with a night of not sleeping – there was no way I would be putting in another ten-hour travel day on Sunday – but did I really need someone coughing in my face for the better part of the night? That just seemed a little unnecessary.

Richie, having come up on Friday and pegged with teaching on Monday, made his way out just after sun-up. I got my best hours of sleep after people left. Eventually, I found the motivation to roll out of bed. Besides the fact that I didn't want to travel back-to-back days, I had some things to do in Chimoio. For one, I needed money. I arrived in town with less than two hundred Meticais, and the only reason I had that money was because of the kindness of drivers who didn't ask for money. I would have had enough to make it, but my Metical count would have been in the single digits.

Almost as importantly, Chimoio is home to these pretty cool hats that have the Mozambican flag sewn into the side. They are impossible to find in Maputo, so you can only begin to imagine trying to find them in Machanga. I spent an hour or so scouring the market for these hats as well as beanies, but the headgear was nowhere to be found. Going to market on Sunday didn't help my cause, but they have apparently been more difficult to find these days.

I did not, however, return empty-handed. I still got my cash as well as some food for the local Volunteer and myself. There are a lot of Volunteers around the Chimoio area and the Volunteer who hosted the party lived just outside of Chimoio. I jumped into a dreaded chapa (it was only a couple of kilometers) and headed back to the house.

It's a good thing that the Volunteer there was as lazy as I was feeling. After eating lunch, we plopped down on a mattress and settled in for an afternoon of movies. We went for a mindless action film in “Resident Evil”. I've never really understood movies like this. I was raised in a house without gaming consoles (my parents' call) and comic books (my own choice), so movies based on video games or comic books are usually beyond me. We were both satisfied with this, though, that we decided to crack in on the sequel.

About half way through the movie, my buddy got a call from someone who would be crashing at his house for the night. This traveler found my buddy through CouchSurfers, which is quite a brilliant website that connects people looking to crash at someone's house with people willing to host said seekers. I'll be getting on that site as soon as I get home, but with all us Peace Corps Volunteers spread out across the country, I'm sure I can travel pretty much anywhere in the country and find a Volunteer willing to put me up for a night.

This particular travel has had quite an adventure. He has been on the road for eleven months. He's covered large parts of Southeast Asia, Australia, New Zealand, and Africa. It's the kind of trip I'd love to do, but probably won't be able to do until I hit a serious midlife crisis.

By 8:00, all of us were pretty exhausted, but we couldn't bring ourselves to go to bed at 8:00. We managed to stay up for another hour or so before going to sleep.

As is usual on the nights before travel days, I didn't sleep very well. I try to get out right at sunrise. I set an alarm for 5:30, but I'm paranoid when I set an alarm. I don't trust them. I always set two alarms. I'm neurotic like that. Even that, though, is not enough. My body finds a way to wake up almost hourly. This evening, however, I was lucky that the sleep I got in those hour intervals was good sleep.

I was on the road by 6:30, and the travel day started out promising. I got a ride almost right away to Inchope, the crossroads between the EN6 and EN1. But my luck ended there. For the entire day. I was really hoping to hitch a ride with someone, but there weren't a lot of cars heading south and the ones going wouldn't stop for me. I knew that if nothing else came, I could always fall back on the chapa to Machanga. While I waited, I made friends with this Australian guy who was on the road from Malawi to Johannesburg.

By 9:30, no car had stopped for me and the Machanga chapa pulled in. Bleh. I don't want to be in a chapa, but there was no sense in trying at this point. The hour was getting late. I risked not getting home if I didn't take this chapa. At least I knew – at least I gave myself a chance – that I would get home on this chapa.

There were three things on this particular chapa that comforted me. First, I had a book – as usual. Over the course of the ride, I finished half of A.J. Jacobs' “The Year of Living Biblically”. The premise is simple: follow the Bible's rules for a year. Executing that plan, as I figured before and found out in colorful detail over the course of the book, would be a lot more difficult. I was tired, but I couldn't put it down. The second thing that made the trip was that I had one of the two front seats, which are always more comfortable than the seats in back.

The third thing – or, I should actually say, person – was this drop-dead gorgeous woman with a perfectly shaven head. She had less hair than I have. I've heard plenty of people say that bald is beautiful. I certainly don't see in the mirror every day, but god damn, this woman was living proof of it. Think Natalie Portman in “V for Vendetta”, but African. If I were a better man – or Richie – I would have hit on her, but I don't have game in English. Forget trying to spit game in Portuguese.

The chapa arrived in Machanga around 4:30 in the afternoon. What's another ten-hour travel day? I will say: I am pretty much done traveling. I'm over it. This is one of the last times I'll be on the road for more than six hours until I had to Maputo to get out of here. I'll have one more trip up to Chimoio, and maybe one to Beira, but for the most part, I'm done.

I told Richie that he was in charge of dinner – steak sandwiches and french fries. But that meal is a multi-stove multi-person operation. I cooked the french fries, a truly mindless activity, ate, and fell asleep as soon as I hit the bed.

A good night of sleep was what I needed and that's exactly what I got. I woke up feeling refreshed, alive, ready to tackle the week. It helps that there's not a lot to tackle this week: handing back exams, a quick lesson on computer vocabulary, and a prep session for the final exam next weekend. I'm not thrilled about giving exams just two weeks apart, but it must be done.

I kept surprisingly busy in the morning. I didn't quite finish my grading work from Friday. I had all the corrections done, but I hadn't punched the grades into the computer. The grades were pretty good by Mozambican standards: the average was 62 percent. While I was at it, I started writing up the final exam. It should be a good measuring stick for how they'll do on their national exam in November.

Class was simple enough. A lot of teachers have already left school for the trimester. Sozinho told me that I'd be the only teacher that would show up to his class today. Fine by me. I had his group join the other group, so I only had to go over the exam once. Satisfied with their grades, the kids were happy to leave after going over the exam. So was I.

I dove back into “The Year of Living Biblically”. It's such a smooth, funny read that I was able to knock it out before the beans finished cooking on the stove. The timing was actually perfect. Most of the water had burned off just as I finished the last chapter. As soon as I was done with it, Richie picked it up. He should be done with it by Thursday. I've said it a ton of times: we're not good about reading slowly.

This book was brilliantly executed and made me think about my own religious beliefs, or lack thereof. I have about as much religion in me as there is ice in the Sahara. I have a lot of issues with religion. Aside from the not believing in some higher power, which would leave me out of most religions, I just don't see the purpose of religion. I understand it can be a guide to living a good life. This book, in a lot of ways, points that out. Many of the laws and rules in the Bible are wise and caring. Some are crazy or vague or downright outdated. We get in trouble when we start cherry-picking out parts to fit our own agendas.

So I guess instead of going the Jacobs route of trying to follow all of them – recognizing the impossibility and absurdity of this – I've gone the opposite direction. That's not to say I don't follow a lot of them. “Thou shalt not murder”, among others, is a pretty solid rule for society, and I'm okay with the idea of tithing. But for the most part, the Bible plays little role as my ethical compass. I guess I try to live by the simple idea of doing good, or as Google would say, “Don't be evil”. This seems a lot more attainable.

My brother called a little bit before getting ready for dinner. It had been a good couple of weeks since we had last talked, so it was nice to catch up. The rest of the night after that was pretty quiet. A part of me wanted to watch the soccer game between Holland and Uruguay. I had no rooting interest in the game, so I instead chose for sleep. It was the right choice. For the record, Holland won. With Spain and Germany playing tomorrow, it will be an all European final.

Richie and I were both up bright and early Wednesday morning. Actually, it wasn't bright at all. It was just after 3 in the morning. This wasn't a wake-up courtesy of heat, like in January, nor was it a gastrointestinal crisis. This was all Sozinho's fault. He has decided that the middle of the night is a good time to talk on the phone with friends. He tries to be courteous by going and outside and into the bathroom, thinking that the room will contain his voice. Nope: it only exacerbates the problem. If this goes any longer, he's going to be on the wrong end of a yelling-at. He managed to stay on the phone for three hours, during which time I struggled to get a little shut-eye.

I was busy at work for most of the morning. My mission was to finish writing up the final exam for the students. This wasn't a whole lot of work, but it did keep me busy. There was no original thought going into the exam: everything was taken right out of previous National Exams. I don't sugar-coat any questions or change any words to make it friendlier. It should give the students a pretty good idea of where they stand for November. Just after finishing, the twelfth grade teacher from the secondary school came over. I told him that I'd have the test by Friday, but he knows me well. I'm not Mozambican, so when I say Friday, I really do mean Friday. He seemed happy that he wouldn't have to do any work again. I'm happy to help.

Before we could get to lunch, I had one more item of business to complete. One of the sections on the exam is very heavy in computer vocabulary. I haven't done any lessons regarding computers this year, so I figured the least I could do was prepare the students properly for this exam.

I was really hoping to knock out class right after lunch. At least I wanted to get it done as quickly as possible. Didn't happen today. I waited all afternoon for my students to swing by, but no one appeared. Sad. It wasn't a problem. I kept myself busy with a book called “African Friends and Money Matters”. This is the kind of book I wish I had during training. Although it speaks broadly about Africa – always complex, considering the number of countries and cultures – a lot of it rings true, amazing considering a lot of the author's research comes Senegal, way on the other side of the continent.

Class lasted a mere thirty minutes. There wasn't a lot of explaining to do. Copy the picture, explain the vocabulary, tell the kids they should know that it will be on the exam next week. What was amazing was how few students were there. Less than half of the kids in that class were there. They'll regret it when they don't understand a huge portion of the exam.

The featured entertainment tonight, after dinner of course, was a huge game between Spain and Germany. Spain had been bouncing along, not looking particularly threatening. Germany, on the other hand was coming of dismantlings of England and Argentina, two teams mentioned as serious contenders. On paper, Germany should have won this game. But Spain came out well. Really well. They dominated play for the entire game. Germany barely sniffed the net and Carlos Puyol's header in the second half was enough to carry Spain into the final for the first time.

Waking up this morning was probably the first time that I've really thought “it's time to get home”. I woke up from a dream about cheeseburgers. Seriously. Cheeseburgers. If that's not a sign that I've been out of America for a while, I don't know what is.

I was out of it for the entire morning. I don't know if it was being disappointed with the lack of cheeseburgers or the fact the Sozinho woke us up again, this time at 4:00 in the morning. Some of it probably had to do with some stomach issues. It was not a pleasant morning on that front, the first time in a good while that I've had any sort of stomach issue.

School has been very quiet for the entire week. A lot of teachers have already left, even though there are still a couple weeks left in the trimester. It seems the students have followed in their footsteps. Judging from the attendance I had yesterday and today, apparently the trimester is over. I had nineteen out of sixty students today. It will be interesting to see how many people actually show up for the exam next Tuesday.

I committed myself to snapping out of the drowsiness from this morning. I crashed for a nap around 1:30, and I do mean crash. I hit the pillow and was gone instantly. This nap was going along quite nicely until I got a phone call from Peace Corps. Nothing important, just some transportation stuff for our conference next month. It wasn't the worst timing. Prior to the call, I was out for a good hour and change. The only downside was I woke up drowsy, again.

It took a little while, but I eventually snapped awake. Richie decided to head to the villa. I had planned on heading out there, but I wanted to print my exam and I was hungry, two issues which are far more important than drinking. Unfortunately, the electricity wasn't working in the room with the printer, so I was out of luck on that front. Food, however, is rarely in shortage. I cooked up some rice and chicken breast, a tasty meal. Richie rolled in about when I was going to sleep. He ate, and soon after we were both asleep.

My Friday morning started the same way that any sports-loving American spent Thursday night: talking about the shit-show that was LeBron. I spent a good chunk of time on ESPN.com getting news from all sides and then discussing with other Volunteers. The consensus is thinking here is: he handled things poorly, he is now the most hated person in Cleveland, it's going to be amazing to watch the Heat play, and any of us could probably fill out that team.

I didn't see Sozinho Friday morning, which is usually a blessing. The more he is out of the house, the better. Usually, he is not out for more than an hour or so – long enough to go to the market, talk to random people, and take his sweet time back. Today, though, he was gone and nobody really knew where. Richie sent him with money to buy fish, which normally just requires a trip to the market. This was no market run.

I would welcome this kind of move, but Sozinho seemed to forget that, yes, he does have responsibilities in this house. In exchange for us giving him shelter, food, other random amenities when he asks for them, he does stuff for us. Stuff is a broad category that can be anything from going to the market to washing dishes to collecting money from people who owe me. Simply, he's responsible for the things that we don't want to do. And today, he has failed to accomplish anything.

Energy was on in the school this morning. I thought that I'd be able to print out my exam, get it photocopied at night and be able to hand out some of the copies to my secondary school counterpart by the weekend. When I went over to the school, our assistant director told me there was no paper. It's always something, isn't it? I cracked a smile, he gave a laugh, and that was that.

By 10 o'clock, I was preparing myself for two activities. The first would definitely be the easier the two. Since Sozinho didn't wash the dishes, someone had to do it. If nothing else, I certainly understand on a better level when parents say “they're not going to [insert verb here] themselves”. It's all too true.

The second task would take some seriously preparation. After four hours of being gone and having not done anything in the house, I was ready to make unleash a verbal lashing on Sozinho. Anyone who knows me knows that this is not my style. I don't yell at people. It never really does any good and my lack of experience in yelling means I'm not very good at it. Tack on the fact that I would have to do this in Portuguese, without being able to throw in “fuckin” or “goddamnit” every sixth word, and this was going to be a disaster. I started thinking up all sorts of phrases that I would use.

He was not back by the time we ate lunch, nor was he back by the time class started. His class, by the way. He missed his review session for the final and I can't really say I was sad about it. When I came back from class, he had returned. It was probably a blessing that he returned when I wasn't home. Richie, who is even more calm-headed than I am, asked where he went to buy fish. Get this: he walked nine kilometers to some place, bought fish, then walked back another nine kilometers. Eighteen kilometers. I'm not even going to do the conversion into miles; even the most ignorant American knows that eighteen kilometers is a lot of miles. Richie informed me of this and, although pissed off that he didn't do any of the things we asked him to do, I couldn't bring myself to yell at him.

After my second class of the afternoon, I decided that I was going to be productive. Our porch light has not worked for the last couple of months, which was curious since we had recently purchased a new fluorescent bulb for it. I figured it had to be the wiring. When I cracked the case open, lo and behold, one of the wires was very loosely connected. I popped the wire back in place and all was working. I tested it three or four times and it seemed to be good to go. Successful, we made a trip to the market to restock on goods.

The highlight of my day came right before we went to the market. Richie was in the bathroom, doing his thing, when all of a sudden, I hard a thud, followed by Richie saying “shit”. I know that feeling: something fell in the poophole. It was really a matter of what. I half jokingly yelled “phone?”. “Yea”. Richie's pain was my pleasure. I couldn't stop laughing. Even better, he then proceeded to reach into the poophole to rescue his poopy phone. I told him he'd be the subject of my jokes for the night. And I almost couldn't resist laughing when he shook someone's hand at the market.

All that work on the light – okay, it was only about five minutes of work – went to waste. When darkness fell – and the moonless night was dark tonight – the light would flicker then peter out, flicker then peter out. Apparently, this light bulb only works during daylight hours. It was comically frustrating, nothing really to get angry over. I'd repair it for good in the morning.

Following dinner – a stir fry with delicious, sweet pineapple, we watched “The Narrows”. It's the first time in a while that we've watched a movie and we couldn't have picked a worse movie. Yea, there were some cool scenes, but on the whole it was just weird. Unsatisfied, we went to bed.

Another day, another morning that Sozinho has failed to do anything. I'll be damned if I'm going to dishes two days in a row. I started putting all the dishes outside, making my displeasure visible, when I saw Sozinho off in the distance. It was then I did something very Mozambican: I yelled his name as loud as I could, got his attention, and just pointed at the dishes. He got the message.

I wasn't done with him. After washing the dishes, I sent him to buy bread and a couple of parts for my lighting situation. The truth is, I would have gone myself, but I didn't know the name of the part and I didn't want to play a game of “watch the muzungu try to explain what he wants in butchered Portuguese”. I usually get what I want (see last week – abraçadeiras), but I wasn't up for it today. Sozinho got the job done with little problem. Upon is return, I spent a couple minutes hooking everything up. Seems good to go. We'll see come nightfall.

Lunch was followed by an awesome nap. My dreams, for better or worse, have been really vivid the last couple nights and naps, despite the fact that I haven't popped a Larium in the last couple days. Nothing has come close to the cheeseburgers, but I've been in a hospital for someone giving birth (not a pleasant way to spend my time asleep) and rinkside seats at a hockey game (awesome, until a puck came flying toward my face). This nap was no different. I can't remember what happened, by I woke up slightly shaken.

I was on bean duty in the afternoon. I don't know if Richie went to the market or to sleep, but he was no where to be found. Since the poophole incident, his phone hasn't been working well. We put it in a small bag of rice to get out the moisture. It's a nice trick. The phone seemed to work this morning, then didn't work before lunch, then worked again after lunch.

Richie spent the afternoon in the villa, leaving while I had been asleep. He came home later than usual because he was asked by Madinha to walk Greg – our long-lost acquaintance from South Africa to the river. As Richie told it, Greg was walking a little ahead of his wife and Richie. When they caught up, they found Greg passed out in a pile of sand. I wouldn't believe it if it were anyone else. Only Greg could do this.

After eating, a couple of us went out to a bar. All I wanted was to be at a bar that had a television, which we found. We watched the last hour of the Germany-Uruguay game. I may not be religious, but I almost had to believe in karma when Uruguay, in the last moment of the game, hit the crossbar to lose by one goal. It was only fitting that Uruguay would suffer the same fate as Ghana.

With that, and a couple more beers, I was able to sleep easily.