I was optimistic early Sunday morning. Having thrown down almost two liters of water during the night, I thought I had beat the hang-over monster. Just in case, I threw down half a liter of Gatorade and popped some precautionary aspirin.
In addition to said measures, I thought some fresh air would help me out. I made a run to the bank to flush out my bank account, quickly followed by a trip to a gas station to buy some biscuits and drinks for my students.
Our ride appeared at the hotel just around 9 o'clock. If we move well, we would arrive in Machanga just around 4 in the afternoon. The students generously offered me one of the four seats inside, an offer I gladly accepted. It turned out to be extraordinarily helpful. As soon as the car got going, I felt sick, and not driving-down-17-to-Santa-Cruz-as-a-child sick. I finished another bottle of Gatorade and quickly fell asleep.
I slept almost until Muxungue, where I knew we would be taking a break for lunch. I went on the hunt for the egg sandwich lady from Friday, but she was nowhere to be found. Eventually, I ran into someone who brought me to a random lady's house. She said she could make me egg sandwiches. I paid a premium for service – double the price of Friday's, but didn't have to wait particularly long. The sandwiches were okay; it's hard to fuck up a fried egg and bread. But it wasn't nearly as good as Friday's. Just goes to show that anyone can make an egg sandwich in Muxungue, but not everyone in Muxungue can make The Muxungue Egg Sandwich.
I felt much better once I had some food in my system. I was awake, tragically, for the rest of the ride, including the miserable sixty kilometers of dirt path to Machanga. With a good truck, the ride was almost tolerable. All said, though, we made good time: we were two minutes before 4 o'clock.
When I got home, I was tired to say the least, but I was also feeling somewhat inspired. I wanted to bang out some work before eating dinner. I knew I would have some time. As follows our unspoken deal, since I traveled all day, Richie was in charge of dinner. While he cooked spaghetti, I wrote up my final exam, which is a copy of the most recent National Exams. The kids are going to hate me for giving them 60 questions, but it will be good practice for them.
I finished typing just as the spaghetti and sauce came off the stove. Richie and I ate quickly, then moved into “Sons of Anarchy”. We've seen some bad movies here, and we've seen some bad television shows, but “Sons of Anarchy” might have won the distinction of being the worst of them all. And yet, we will continue to watch.
For the first time in at least a few weeks, I managed to sleep through the night. Not a single wake-up. Clearly the trick to a good night's sleep is a night of excessive drinking followed by an eight-hour travel day.
Never have I been so grateful to have Mondays off. I didn't want to do much of anything today. That's how most of my morning was spent – doing nothing productive. These days, Monday's have taken on new meaning for us. With football season upon us, we now have reason to go online every Monday morning – to check football scores. I spent a good part of the morning reading game recaps and catching up on some writing (this thing doesn't write itself, ya know).
After lunch, I became a productive member of the workforce again. We have but a few weeks of school to go, and I still have two exams to give. I spent a bit of time in the afternoon planning on my remaining classes. From there, I was able to write up the midterm that I'll be giving at the end of the week. All said, it was a very productive afternoon.
And I wasn't even done for the day. Having soaked beans in the morning, I was in charge of cooking beans in the afternoon. Actually, the real reason I'm in charge of beans is because my beans are so much better than Sozinho's. Go figure. Around 4 o'clock, I lit up the carvao and got cooking.
While the beans sat on the stove, I ran over to the director's office to print out the exam that I typed up yesterday. With some formatting tricks and printing two sheets per page (still readable), I cut down the exam from seven to three pages. It will save the kids eight Mets a piece, money they can spend on, well, other exams.
The beans and rice finished cooking around 6:30. We devoured our food. For some reason, Sozinho chose not to eat beans. Always a terrible decision. But it was good news for us: we'll make burritos tomorrow. We continued with the misery that is “Sons of Anarchy” after eating. Just before bed, I started a new book, Zadie Smith's “White Teeth”. So far, it's very funny.
I slept well Monday night, but I'm fearing that the days of not sweating through the sheets at night will be coming to an end very soon. It's definitely getting hotter at night, the sun is up earlier, and as such, so are we – on both counts.
There were rumblings Tuesday morning about classes being canceled for the day. The governor of Sofala is in town, and whenever a government official is in town, he (and it's almost always a “he”) draws the attention of all the teachers. By late morning, classes were officially canceled. Lots of important business, I'm sure.
I kept myself busy around the house. There was plenty of cleaning to be done, and is as usually the case, once I get started cleaning, I usually go for hours on end. I started with the kitchen table, which is become a cemetery for, well, everything. From there I took on my own room, which wasn't all that much work. That's one of the nice upsides of living in a room not much larger than a jail cell. When Richie got back from class, we got to work on the book shelves. All said, it was a productive morning.
The cleaning took us right up until lunch. It was a perfect afternoon for a nap. The breeze was blowing the right way, nobody was here to bother us. I wasn't horizontal for more than five minutes before I fell asleep.
Once I woke up, I took care of some school business. With class canceled today, I had to reassess my lesson plans for the rest of the year. The lesson will be pushed to later in the week, which is fine. It'll be a little rough for one of the groups – to learn a lesson one day, then have it on the test the next day – but I suspect they'll be just fine.
Late in the afternoon, my parents gave me a ring. I was wondering where they had been, since they normally call on Sundays. Who could believe that mCel would have problems?
We had a bounty of beans left over from last night, but it wasn't enough to be its own meal. They would play a fine supporting role in burritos. We defrosted some (a very little bit) of our precious filet, cooked some rice and tortillas, made some salsa, and ate delicious Mexican food.
The rest of the night was a repeat of last night: two horrible episodes of “Sons of Anarchy” followed by some time in bed with “White Teeth”.
I should say that the rest of the night while I was awake was the same, because the sleeping was definitely different. Whatever breeze there was in the afternoon dissipated. It was hot, muggy, in a word – miserable. It wasn't sweat-through-the-sheets hot, but it was hot enough to keep me awake until almost 2 in the morning. Pleasant.
And because it was so damn hot at night, it only got hotter in the morning that much faster. I didn't get more than a few hours of decent sleep. I should probably get used to this. The nights for next nine weeks could be like this.
I was treated to a phone call from my brother Wednesday morning. This was the second consecutive time that he has called at an insane hour – 11:30 PM his time. It's a great time for me (8:30 in the morning) and I'm always happy to talk to my brother whatever the hour is. We chatted for almost an hour, which was nice, because the last time we talked, my sister kept stealing from the phone from him.
The rest of the morning was pretty quiet. It was crazy windy for most of the morning, which knocked out the electricity on our side of the river. I would have liked to have done some writing, but instead I gave myself a haircut and powered on with “White Teeth” until lunch.
My students came by early in the afternoon, asking me to use up a time slot from another teacher. It seems like most of the teachers have checked out. I'm not totally there yet. Three more weeks and I'll be done. After my lesson, I told the students the scheduled date of their final. I had hoped to give them their exam on a Friday, so I could give the exam to them and the other class on the same day. For some reason, all of the students of twelfth grade are heading to Beira the Thursday before the slated date. They said Wednesday would be better. That's fine by me – just need to talk to a couple teachers to see if I can use their class time.
That shouldn't be much of a problem. It's not like the teachers here need a reason to not go to class. I was giving them a gift. The only torturous part of this was that the teachers with whom I needed to speak were the director and the assistant director. I try to keep involvement with them to a minimal, but they were both fine with it.
Richie and Sozinho were in the mood for fish tonight. I guess it's spaghetti for me. With powdered milk, some butter that was in the house, and sauce packet, I had some pretty tasty alfredo sauce – a nice change from tomato sauce. After eating, we continued with “Sons of Anarchy” and I marched on with “White Teeth”.
I was thrilled that the night wasn't nearly as hot as the night before. All I had to contend with tonight were crazy Larium dreams, one after another until I woke up.
Shortly after I woke up, I heard a small rumbling in my room. I thought I had heard it last night, but it could have easily been the Larium doing its thing. This time, I was certain of it. I started going through my room, wondering what it could be. I finally got to our suitcases when it heard it again. Out go the suit cases, time to crack em open.
And that's when I saw it. Well not all of it. But enough of it that I knew what I was. A rodent had taken apparently taken residence in my room yesterday. With the help of some bug spray and peanut butter, we induced the sucker. This wasn't some ugly rat: just a little field mouse, probably trying to avoid hawks, owls, and snakes. We liberated him into the wild again. We'll let nature take its course.
As long as I had the suitcases outside, I figured it would be a good opportunity to do a massive clean-up. I went through my bag and tossed out some ancient, unnecessary things. I swept, mopped, flipped my mattress, simply made my room a nicer place. It was a good way to spend the morning.
I had class immediately after lunch, just the way I like it. I had a repeat of the lesson I taught yesterday, followed by a brief preparation for their midterm. I'm praying to whatever deities are out there that these kids do better the second time around with this content.
Following class, I made a run to the market in search of beef. Sure, we still have filet sitting in the freezer, but we want to use that for special occasions. For regular meals, we'll take low-grade stuff. Even this cut of beef, though, wasn't terrible. It goes without say that we've had a lot worse. With the beef, I made a tasty stir fry for the three of us. And like the rest of the week, I ended my night with “Sons of Anarchy” and “White Teeth”.
Friday morning appeared to be a normal morning. I went to the market to pick up some eggs, swung to the other side of town to buy bread – nothing special. But then, as I walked into the house, I was called over to someone's house. I thought I had heard my name. It's just the source that surprised me. After almost two years, I have finally won the heart of Bucket Girl.
A brief history is necessary here. In the first few months we were here, Richie and I were sitting on our porch (as we tend to do), staring blankly out into open. It was then that we saw Gida, the nine-month-old daughter of one our colleagues, nearly go head over heals into a bucket. With reason, we found this hilarious and in a very Seinfeldian way, we dubbed her “Bucket Girl”.
Now, over the course of our stay, Gida has gone through many stages with us. At first, it was utter fear. We couldn't get within 50 feet of her without her crying. Then she moved into the ignoring stage: we were dead to her. After a few months of that, there was embarrassment. We'd get little smiles, but she'd always shy away. All the while, I've been trying to win her over with cookies and other various sweets. If she ends up diabetic, it's me who is to blame.
And then today, as I walked into my ho use, we hit the friendship stage. The following is my first conversation with two-and-a-half year old Bucket Girl.
B.G. “Lee. Estou a pedir bolacha”. I am asking for a cookie.
Me “de chocolate?”
B.G – (nods).
Me – “Okay, espera.” Wait. I go to my house and grab two Girl Scout Thin Mints, then hand 'em over to Bucket Girl.
Mother of B.G. – “Diz obrigado”. Say thank you. Goes to show that no matter where you go, certain things are constant.
B.G. – “Obrigado”.
My heart is aflutter. I have won over Bucket Girl. I can call my Peace Corps Service a success.
The rest of the day could be a complete disaster – it might be, with an exam coming up – and I'd still declare this day a victory.
I squeezed in a shower while Richie was cooking lunch. I was due. My feet we a disturbing shade of brown. Cleaned and, after lunch, full, I went over to the school to give my last ever midterm in this country. Shed a tear I will not.
Three hours of standing around, by in large uneventful. I no longer look for cheaters. The kids' eyes can wander all they want. Now that I'm printing multiple versions of the same exam, I no longer have to catch cheaters. The test will do it for me. Most of the kids seem to have figured this out, but there will surely be a few who don't realize what I'm up to.
As soon as I finished in the school, I came over to correct the exams. I want to have these suckers finished before dinner. As it turns out, only one girl cheated. She ended up with a 15%, only because I didn't change the order of the answers on three of the questions. It's a tough road to passing this trimester for her after that performance. Aside from her and a couple other non-cheaters, the students did very well. There were at least five perfect scores over the ninety-some students.
I was on my own for the rest of the students. Richie crossed the river to Mambone and will continue south to Inhambane tomorrow. After talking to my grandfather for a bit, I cooked up some spaghetti for myself. There would be no “Sons of Anarchy tonight” – watching this alone would be like drinking a bottle of scotch alone, a sure sign of depression or at least boredom – so I skipped right to “White Teeth”.
The night was strangely – blissfully – cold. I knew I had slept well when the first thing I heard in the morning was Sozinho asking me to unlike the door.
Saturday was yet another holiday in the Mozambican calendar, this time Armed Forces Day. I was in bed, reading, when I got a text message from Priscilla, the Brazilian volunteer who replaced Alexis. “Are you coming to the celebration?” I gave her my standard answer – “No need to go, they're all the same”. She would later tell me that moments after I sent that message, one of the dance groups that danced a couple weeks ago came out to the dance to the exact same song. I feel redeemed.
I did, however, tell her that I'd meet her over at Madinha's late in the morning. When I went over, I was met by six colleagues sitting outside drinking beer. 11 o'clock is an appropriate hour to drink, right? Shortly after I arrived, Priscilla and a colleague of hers arrived. After talking for a bit, we fell into stereotypical Mozambican roles – the girls went to cook, and I joined my colleagues, throwing down glass after glass of beer.
There was a payoff for sticking around almost four hours at Madinha's. She and the girls prepared lunch and I was apparently included on this. Nice. I will always take free food, especially beef. I ate two plates of food, then jumped on my bike, heading for home.
The rest of the afternoon was quiet. I think everyone – including myself – was resting up for the big night ahead.
I had fully intended to go out again in the evening. I prepared myself as best as I could – water, Gatorade, food – but by 8:45, I was exhausted. There was no way I'd make it to 11, just to s
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