The wind stuck with us through the night, but we still haven’t seen much rain. It’s a lot of noise but that’s all. And with mostly clear skies above us, it appears to be just a cooling threat. It was cool enough that our Mozambican counterparts had to bundle themselves up in hats and jackets. Meanwhile, we sat on our patio shirtless in shorts. This weather is perfect for us. As I sat on the patio, reading a magazine, I got a call from my parents at 9 AM. Strange, I thought: with the nine hour time difference, it’s midnight in California. Oh wait, they went to Hawaii. So now it is a twelve hour difference. I think, now, we are geographically on opposite sides of the earth.
We expected guests today: Greg, our colleague in Mambone, and one of his Mozambican friends. I still don’t know why anyone would ever want to actually visit Machanga. There even less nothing here than there is in Mambone. I knew he would be in church for a while, so we started prepping for lunch. We figured if they’re hungry, we could whip something up for them. As we ate lunch, we got a call from them, saying it would be a couple hours. No problem – as long as they brought bread and tomatoes for us. If we are not going to the Promised Land, the Promised Land is going to come to us.
They arrived early afternoon. You know it’s bad when a Mozambican says, “Wow, this is even more ‘mato’ (bush) than our side.” Greg, of course, liked it. He called it “rustic,” whatever that means. I cooked up some spaghetti for them. They were blown away with the parmesan cheese I had to offer. It’s the little things in life that keep all of us going.
As we walked to the villa, the rain finally came. Timing is everything, right? We spent a little time in a baraca, enjoying a soda and just talking about our crazy lives. We walked them back toward the river and caught an excellent boleia in the back of a truck.
The night was pretty regular. We made spaghetti and our excellent tomato sauce. Greg, wisely, brought us some green peppers along with tomatoes, so our sauce was extra delicious. We watched a couple of episodes of “House,” I wrote out my test questions for tomorrow, and we crashed.
Kind of. Of course, something had to screw up my day, albeit barely. A grasshopper made it into my bed net and landed on me as I tried to sleep. There was no way I was going to sleep until that thing was out of my bed or dead. I like dead better. I killed the beast, turned on my fan, and went to bed.
I woke up feeling decent. I had some strange dreams last night that I can’t even blame on malaria drugs. One of them involved my students asking for extra credit. Maybe it was a sign of things to come.
I spent a good part of the morning writing out the exam for my students. It’s a pain in the ass to hand-write exams on big pieces of paper. It means I actually have to pay attention, write neatly, not mess up. It would be so much easier to type and photocopy, but that gets expensive for the students. They will pay up for their final exam next week.
After yet another delicious stirfry lunch, I went to the school to give the test. Each class had 90 minutes to finish the ten question exam. I knew it was too much time, but it would give me an opportunity to correct the tests immediately. The first class did really well. Everyone passed, most with great scores. The second did a little worse and I caught a cheater in that class. He will see a fat zero on his exam tomorrow. The third did even worse. About 70 percent of the class passed, which is not terrible, but not up to American standards.
We had the good fortune of having energy all day today. How glorious. It allowed me to charge up a ton of batteries for my fans, keep my computer charged, and put grades into my computer immediately.
Before cooking dinner, I helped out two people – one students and one teacher – with some English lessons. I think these are my most meaningful exchanges: the personal one-on-one conversations where I can really help someone. They are fulfilling moments.
With a bounty of tomatoes, we cooked up spaghetti again for dinner. We left the chicken out of the sauce tonight. Richie had more cheaters than I had today, and since he said the day couldn’t be salvaged, we decided to leave the chicken out. No reason to waste perfectly good chicken. We watched some “House,” drank gin to forget the day, and went to sleep.
The tasks I had in front of me on Tuesday were minimal at most. I didn’t have to lesson plan, I had already corrected all of the exams, and all I had to do was return them to the students. It’s nice to have easy days like that. I spent most of the morning working on Kakuro. I messed up one, and got another one right. 50 percent isn’t bad (remember, we’re in Mozambique, where 50 percent passes).
I hand back the exams to most of the turmas, showing them the cábula that one student stupid decided to use. He’ll enjoy that zero. I had to give the exam to one last class, and they did pretty well.
And then something very strange happened. As the twelfth graders left, a group of about 20 tenth graders walked in. Wait, you aren’t my students. Why are you here? They wanted math help. I’ve never been opposed to helping on math. The truth is, if I could teach math here, I would. I helped them with one problem, and was stumped by another, but I vowed to get them the answer by tomorrow.
It was a pretty terrible night after that. We made pancakes, but with the corn flour we accidentally bought, they tasted like xima – bleh. We also tried to make corn chowder with all of the corn we have been given, but that was pretty terrible too. The only thing that saved the night was “House.”
I fell into a deep sleep, and that proved to be problematic. I was up before four o’clock. It was pitch black outside. I went back to bed, but was up in 20 minute intervals. What happened, though, was amazing. Every time I woke up, the sky was a different color. First it was slate grey, then it changed to that bright shade of blue used in so much of our technology. The best though were the two after – bright pink followed by white. I’ve never seen anything like it before. When I finally got up for good, around 6, the sky was a perfect shade of blue.
There was no going back to bed. I was up for good. So I lay in bed and figured out the math problem that had stumped me in less than five minutes. My brain turned on, I got back to the Kakuro and had a lot of success really quickly. I knocked out one, and by morning’s end, I had another finished. That makes three in a row correct.
As I got more and more exhausted, my activities changed. We through the Frisbee around for a bit, which definitely did not help. After a while, I just settled on the patio and read a magazine. By 10, having already been awake for six hours, I was exhausted. I needed food, and fast. We waited until 11 to prep, and by then, I was all but dead. In my state, I should not have been left to work with gasoline and matches. I ended up burning myself only twice, which was pretty good.
Teaching was a struggle. I only had to teach two classes, so that was good news for me. I have decided that teaching is actually three jobs in one – part educator, part cheerleader, and part actor. I had to at least pretend that I was awake for classes.
I came back to the house to a swarm of kids and some teachers playing some Frisbee. It was pretty cool to see. We had kids of all ages, teachers who were single, married, and with children playing. Everyone should be able to act like a kid every once in a while.
As the kids and teachers played, Richie and I took a break. What we watched was incredible. A day that started with a gorgeous sunrise ended with a sunset that put the sunrise to shame. I’ve never seen so many vivid colors in one sunset.
Neither Richie nor I had it in us to cook an actually spaghetti sauce. We turned to the packets of sauce. It was perfect. We added some tomatoes and chicken and dined on a delicious spaghetti dinner. The night ended with a couple episodes of “House.”
Finally, after a couple rough nights, I slept through a night. The morning was low-key. Richie had one class, and I refused to get out of bed until he was back. It was fantastic. I spent a lot of the morning reading mornings, catching up on old news.
The afternoon was as slow as the morning. I was slated for five classes, but only needed to use three. I handed back exams to one group, and was able to combine my other two groups for a joint review session. It was nice to have a relaxing afternoon.
A couple of kids were out in front of our house again playing Frisbee. I threw around for a little bit but mostly played photographer. I snapped off a couple of awesome shots that we may be able to use for something in the future.
A slow day was followed by a slow night. Richie made French toast while I failed in helping a colleague get a document printed. Damn viruses. It’s no wonder at least five colleagues have asked for either my computer, Richie’s computer, or help with buying a computer. I’ll do my best, but there’s only so much I can do. We watched two more episodes of “House” and crashed.
Friday started off normally. I had no classes: I cancelled them on Wednesday. The students should be prepared for their exams. I planned to write out an exam by hand, type it up in the evening, and photocopy it for everyone.
Then midmorning, things changed with one text message. We were told to evacuate our site because of Cyclone Izilda. We checked out the trajectory on the internet and it looked like it was primed to hit Machanga or at least somewhere very close. Hmmm, that certainly changes my plans.
After eating lunch, we started putting our bags together. I wrote out exams on giant paper for another teacher to control, and by 4 PM, we were out the door. I don’t think we have ever moved with such urgency. We crossed the river, which had swollen to a size we hadn’t seen. We think it was mostly the work of a high tide. We bought some bread in the Mambone villa and made a gameplan: stay up drinking all night until the 2 AM bus ride to Xai Xai.
We got a restaurant recommendation from a friend and ended up in the hands of a man named Greg. He’s a South African, born in England, and living in Machanga. He was a fascinating man. He served in the war in Angola, fought for the ANC in South Africa, and after years wandering around southern Africa ended up in Mozambique. Greg laid the gas pipeline that provides our three hours of electricity, so he is our new hero. He was very well educated and maybe a little crazy, which made for interesting conversation.
By 9 PM, we were pretty exhausted and very full from our chicken dinner. We thought we would make it up all night, but we were very wrong. We tried to relax on the bus, but the mosquitoes and some unnecessarily loud conversation kept us awake.
The bus left right on time at 2 AM. Each of us rested on and off. I don’t think either of us slept for more than an hour at a time. Around 10:30, more than eight hours into our journey, we were told that we didn’t have to leave. The storm had dissipated. Awesome. We’ve come too far and we were way too tired to turn around.
We made it to Xai Xai by mid-afternoon. A couple people went to the beach, but I was too exhausted to do much of anything other than getting calories and caffeine. Around 5, we met a colleague who lives close to Xai Xai. I think we’re going to stick around here for a little bit, then put together a plan for the rest of the week.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Year 1 - Week 14: Fireflies like Shooting Stars
We don’t want to leave. This is too nice. Almost too nice. It is somewhat torturous being handed all of these “luxuries” – hot water, CNN, a protein source other than eggs; my systems don’t really know what to do with all of these things. But it might be even more torturous knowing that we have to go back to a place that has none of these things.
Our Sunday was relaxing. We had a half day of sessions before we were set free for lunch. We are running out of decent meals, so we are piling on the food on every plate possible. The afternoon was spent throwing around the Frisbee with a couple Volunteers, swapping music, and swimming in an unheated (read “perfect”) pool.
Just before dinner, my parents called. We laid down what I think are the final parts of their trip out here in December. It is kind of crazy knowing that we have been working on this for two months, and they still won’t be here for another nine. It’s something to look forward to in the long term.
Some people chose to go out for dinner, but I opted to stay in. There’s no need to pay 300 or 400 Meticais for food when there is good enough food being offered at the hotel for free. Some people also went out after dinner. I was a part of the lame group that stayed in, choosing to soak in the wifi, the hot shower, the comfortable bed, and the air conditioner for just a little bit longer. Plus, I had to be up at 3:45 to get a bus to Vilanculos. There was no way I was going out.
That last shower at 3:45 in the morning on Monday was amazing. I took it in as long as possible, knowing it would be the last time I would be truly clean for weeks. Once again, I didn’t want to leave. But there was no choice in the matter.
Our bus to Maputo was pretty nice. We were not in a chapa, but an actual bus. And maybe more importantly, we had a driver who was willing to power through the shitty parts of the road. It was a bumpy ride which kept us awake for the most part, but it was not a bad thing. The ride through Inhambane province is gorgeous. For long stretches, the road is lined by forests of coconut trees. Trying to count the trees is like trying to count stars or grains of sand: you can pull out one here and one there, but getting past ten is impossible.
We got into Vilanculos in good time. With only one major stop in Maxixe, and few short stops along the way, our bus that left at 7:00 arrived just after the bus that left around 5:00. We made a couple of small purchases before getting a call from one of the lucky Volunteers who lives in Vilanculos. She needed help picking up packages from the post office. The problem was we didn’t know where the post office was. So of course, we should ask.
I approached the first person I saw, greeted him appropriately and calmly asked “Onde fica o correios?” He looked at me like I was speaking Japanese. I asked again, and got the same look. He then replied “You can ask in English.” Well, shit. Talk about your language switcharoonies. He explained – in perfect English – how to get the post office. Leave it to me to pick out the Zimbabwean in the group. He said that he had been learning Portuguese for about a year. This, along with another compliment about my language ability just moments before in a store, made me feel pretty good. Few people really believe that we have only been speaking Portuguese for six, and even less believe that we learned Portuguese in Mozambique.
We dropped off our bags at the Volunteer’s house and made our way to the other side of town to get some pizza. One last taste of heaven before heading back to Machanga.
We were up too early on Tuesday. The chapa for Mambone leaves around 10:30 and we had to leave the house by 8. Not a problem; we had to do some last minute shopping anyway. Still, we had to sit on that chapa for two hours before it left. Once it left, though, we made great time. We were in Mambone by mid-afternoon. We stocked up on pasta, bread, and tomato paste. I bought an awesome World Cup 2010 hat for 100 Meticais. One last cold soda consumed and we headed back to Machanga.
It’s weird knowing – and even weirder feeling that – this is home. In spite of the weight of our bags, it was somewhat nice walking back. I was greeted by all the right students, who all welcomed us back in English. It’s nice to know that what we are doing is appreciated, even if we really don’t know exactly what we are doing.
We had to head to the market to pick up some other items – a bag of charcoal and some potatoes. We wheeled a wheelbarrow down the road until some students stopped us and took it the rest of the way. We said we didn’t need help, but they insisted. I’m not going to stop them from helping us. It took three shots, but we finally found some carvão. I gave one of the kids a bit of money for helping us out. We made our way back, and a third of the way down the road, the kids came sprinting down to wheel the charcoal the rest of the way. Sure, we will take your help.
With all the right ingredients, we made some killer tomato sauce. I had hoped that my packages would arrive so we could throw some canned chicken into the sauce, but it wasn’t meant to be. Not tonight anyway.
The night was hot and black. Once the lights went out, all we could see were stars. As I lay in bed, I watched as yellow streaks of light passed by my window. It easy to mistaken fireflies for shooting stars, especially when every once in a while, we really do see a shooting star.
I slept until the absurd hour of 8:30. I’m not quite sure how I did that, but I think all of the travel contributed to the tiredness. I didn’t have a lot to do in the morning, so I dove into a new puzzle book I got. The game is called Kakuro, and it is probably the most difficult Sudoku-like puzzle I have played. I took me hours to finish one puzzle. Just when I was feeling good about myself, Richie reminded me “it’s just a puzzle.” Thanks.
I went on the hunt for my packages. I ran into the Padre here who guided me in the right direction to the school manager. The manager opened the door, and instead of seeing the expected four packages, I saw six. Oh my God, it’s Christmas in Machanga. I was overwhelmed by the amount of food, reading material, and DVDs in these boxes. I think we now have enough food to open a homeless shelter and enough magazines to start a small library. Forget teaching; all I wanted to do was open and sort these packages.
I had mixed feelings about teaching today. There was a part of me that was ready to get back to doing what I was brought here to do. At the same time, I knew only a few kids were going to pay attention. I was welcomed back by students from other classes, and I used that momentum to get through the day. The students were pretty responsive, so for today, I can’t complain about my work here.
Usually, we try to avoid making spaghetti two nights in a row. We like to mix it up, even if “mixing it up” means spaghetti every other day. But now we had even more ingredients – canned mushrooms and canned chicken – to throw into the sauce. It was paradise in a pot. And if that wasn’t enough, we made the cake that my aunt sent me for my birthday. By the end of the night, we felt sick. And we only finished a quarter of it!
We finished watching “Into the Wild.” Good movie with good music. The energy went out at 9 on the dot. I lay down, flipped on the fan that my parents sent me and went to bed easily. With a little flair from America, this place is a lot more tolerable.
The sickness brought on by the cake bled over into the morning. Richie beat me to it. He had two early-morning trips to the bathroom before I made my first. It would not be a pleasant day for either of us on that front.
Richie and I spent a little time cleaning up around the house. Coming back from Maputo, we didn’t do a great job of keeping the place in good shape. I organized the contents of my packages into semi-legitimate categories. We now have a meat section, a sweets section, a fruits and veggies section, and a health foods section. It’s quite beautiful.
I spent the better part of the morning working on a new game book, something called Kenken. It’s somewhat like Sudoku with a little bit of arithmetic involved. It was way too easy. I knocked off the 100-puzzle book in a couple of hours. I think I’ll stick to Kakuro.
With all of these new ingredients, we now have the capability to make something other than potato pancakes and scrambled eggs for lunch. We put together a pretty killer chicken stir fry. We’ll be bringing that into the rotation as long as we have chicken in the house.
I got out of teaching early today. As I was about to begin teaching one of my eleventh grade classes, some kids from the other class approached me. They told me that their teacher wasn’t there and they wanted to combine classes. Let’s see: less time in the class, less writing to be done, less explaining – sounds pretty good to me. 70 faces stared on as I explained what would be on their midterm.
As I walked back from class, Richie was playing Frisbee with some of the kids. Some of them have figured out this plate-throwing thing and have become really good. Of course, I wanted in on this action. By the end of our little throwing session, we had four kids throwing with us, and many other people watching on. Exhausted after twenty or thirty minutes, Richie and I sat back on our porch and watch the kids play.
There was one kid in particular who was of interest to me. He has played Frisbee with us for a while and has picked up a lot of tricks. He knows what he’s doing. After a couple minutes, I noticed that he was teaching one of the newcomers how to throw in a particular way. As I watched this, I thought to myself that this was a tidy metaphor for my role here in Machanga. We spent a little bit of time teaching this kid how to play Frisbee and now he is teaching others. All it takes is one person, and that one person can influence someone else. And long after Richie and I are gone, these kids will be teaching more kids how to throw a Frisbee.
Likewise, if I can just reach one kid who really wants to learn English, maybe he or she will go on to teach a bunch of other people how to speak English. It was a beautiful thing to watch and it’s something I’m going to try to keep in mind throughout my time here, especially when I think that no one is listening.
I spent a little bit of the afternoon helping a kid with some math. He was learning about parabolas. He asked if I could help, and as a math lover, I was willing. Of course, all of my explanation had to be in Portuguese. I think that is probably the best measurement of my language ability. Sure, I can go to the market without problem, travel with ease, and carry on a decent conversation. But now, as I get more comfortable with this language, I am able to talk about things that are way beyond my training. We didn’t learn any vocabulary about functions in training: all of that has come from small sessions like this.
This experience is a lot of give and take. We do give a lot. We give our time and our energy. But what we don’t get paid in money, we get in other forms. We get it in the occasional free crab our corn, the extra help with language, and the general appreciation of a student.
Our night was calm. Richie cooked up some pretty delicious pancakes. We watched a couple episodes from season 1 of “House.” Now that we have the first four seasons, we can watch the series in order. It rained again during the night, and the pitter-patter of the rain on our tin roof eased me into sleep.
The rain subsided by the morning. It looked like it was going to be a beautiful day. I soaked my sheets in soap filled water, preparing them for a good wash in a bit. The rain from last night turned our roads into a half-sludge, half-solid mess. I had to watch my step as I walked to the market with a pack of smiling crianças behind me. I managed to get to the market with only one foot muddied. When I returned from the market, Richie looked like death. He is not feeling well. Whatever we had before Maputo has stuck with him.
We were back to our regular potato and egg lunch. It’s not so bad when it’s mixed in with some other food. It’s after we eat it three weeks in a row that it becomes stale.
My lesson for the day was short. And once again, I got lucky with my classes. I don’t know where all the teachers are, but a lot of classes have some periods cancelled. This benefited me because instead of teaching the first and last hours of the day, I was able to teach just the first two periods. With my afternoon open, I sat back and read through some of the magazines my family sent me. Richie and I witnessed something straight out of “Planet Earth” – a hawk swooped in and lifted a chicken about 100 yards to enjoy a delicious lunch. It was awesome.
It is getting darker earlier every day. The sun is now and its way out just before our energy comes out. We had an angry sunset today. Dark grey puffy clouds rolled in as the last bits of orange sun gave way. Just as it was getting difficult to see, the energy came on. We cooked up some delicious tomato sauce, spaghetti and garlic bread, and watched some “House” before our energy went out.
I struggled to fall asleep, but had no reason to have such troubles. It wasn’t too hot and I had no major obligations for the weekend. But once I fell asleep, I was out. I woke up feeling refreshed – a few minutes before midnight. Damnit. By midnight, it was hot. I woke up in a dead sweat. I grabbed a glass of water, turned on a fan, and went back to bed.
The second wake-up was at an appropriate hour. I got out of bed, whipped up the beer batter for onion rings, and headed for the patio to sit down with my newest obsession – Kakuro. It took me hours to complete one puzzle, but just (“just”) 45 minutes to complete another. I love and hate this game for the same reason: I fuck it up a lot. Sudoku and Kenken are too easy and take too little time. This is a good challenge.
Being Saturday, we had plenty of time to cook up lunch. We had a rare two-course meal: a delicious onion ring appetizer followed by stir fry. It was almost too delicious to be true. It’s a shame we can indulge in onion rings once a week.
After lunch, Richie went back to bed. I’m starting to worry a little bit about his health. He’s not really getting better but not really getting worse. From what he talks about and how he sounds, it seems to be similar to what I had in training. If that is the case, there is no medication that can help him. While he rested, I sat down with my Kakuro book and knocked out another puzzle.
The wind never stopped blowing during the afternoon. A colleague explained to us that we got the wind because of the river. But I find that hard to believe; if that was the case, it would be windy all day every day. After our colleague left, one my students came by to get some English help. I got the truth out of him though: he was bored in his house and needed something to do.
Our energy came on right at 6, but our lightbulb is no longer working – a minor frustration, but nothing we can’t deal with. We cooked up some French toast and watched some “House” to bring the week to a close.
It’s kind of nice to be back at site. In spite of this recent lull in meaning or purpose, it was a good feeling to come back to a group who wanted us there.
Our Sunday was relaxing. We had a half day of sessions before we were set free for lunch. We are running out of decent meals, so we are piling on the food on every plate possible. The afternoon was spent throwing around the Frisbee with a couple Volunteers, swapping music, and swimming in an unheated (read “perfect”) pool.
Just before dinner, my parents called. We laid down what I think are the final parts of their trip out here in December. It is kind of crazy knowing that we have been working on this for two months, and they still won’t be here for another nine. It’s something to look forward to in the long term.
Some people chose to go out for dinner, but I opted to stay in. There’s no need to pay 300 or 400 Meticais for food when there is good enough food being offered at the hotel for free. Some people also went out after dinner. I was a part of the lame group that stayed in, choosing to soak in the wifi, the hot shower, the comfortable bed, and the air conditioner for just a little bit longer. Plus, I had to be up at 3:45 to get a bus to Vilanculos. There was no way I was going out.
That last shower at 3:45 in the morning on Monday was amazing. I took it in as long as possible, knowing it would be the last time I would be truly clean for weeks. Once again, I didn’t want to leave. But there was no choice in the matter.
Our bus to Maputo was pretty nice. We were not in a chapa, but an actual bus. And maybe more importantly, we had a driver who was willing to power through the shitty parts of the road. It was a bumpy ride which kept us awake for the most part, but it was not a bad thing. The ride through Inhambane province is gorgeous. For long stretches, the road is lined by forests of coconut trees. Trying to count the trees is like trying to count stars or grains of sand: you can pull out one here and one there, but getting past ten is impossible.
We got into Vilanculos in good time. With only one major stop in Maxixe, and few short stops along the way, our bus that left at 7:00 arrived just after the bus that left around 5:00. We made a couple of small purchases before getting a call from one of the lucky Volunteers who lives in Vilanculos. She needed help picking up packages from the post office. The problem was we didn’t know where the post office was. So of course, we should ask.
I approached the first person I saw, greeted him appropriately and calmly asked “Onde fica o correios?” He looked at me like I was speaking Japanese. I asked again, and got the same look. He then replied “You can ask in English.” Well, shit. Talk about your language switcharoonies. He explained – in perfect English – how to get the post office. Leave it to me to pick out the Zimbabwean in the group. He said that he had been learning Portuguese for about a year. This, along with another compliment about my language ability just moments before in a store, made me feel pretty good. Few people really believe that we have only been speaking Portuguese for six, and even less believe that we learned Portuguese in Mozambique.
We dropped off our bags at the Volunteer’s house and made our way to the other side of town to get some pizza. One last taste of heaven before heading back to Machanga.
We were up too early on Tuesday. The chapa for Mambone leaves around 10:30 and we had to leave the house by 8. Not a problem; we had to do some last minute shopping anyway. Still, we had to sit on that chapa for two hours before it left. Once it left, though, we made great time. We were in Mambone by mid-afternoon. We stocked up on pasta, bread, and tomato paste. I bought an awesome World Cup 2010 hat for 100 Meticais. One last cold soda consumed and we headed back to Machanga.
It’s weird knowing – and even weirder feeling that – this is home. In spite of the weight of our bags, it was somewhat nice walking back. I was greeted by all the right students, who all welcomed us back in English. It’s nice to know that what we are doing is appreciated, even if we really don’t know exactly what we are doing.
We had to head to the market to pick up some other items – a bag of charcoal and some potatoes. We wheeled a wheelbarrow down the road until some students stopped us and took it the rest of the way. We said we didn’t need help, but they insisted. I’m not going to stop them from helping us. It took three shots, but we finally found some carvão. I gave one of the kids a bit of money for helping us out. We made our way back, and a third of the way down the road, the kids came sprinting down to wheel the charcoal the rest of the way. Sure, we will take your help.
With all the right ingredients, we made some killer tomato sauce. I had hoped that my packages would arrive so we could throw some canned chicken into the sauce, but it wasn’t meant to be. Not tonight anyway.
The night was hot and black. Once the lights went out, all we could see were stars. As I lay in bed, I watched as yellow streaks of light passed by my window. It easy to mistaken fireflies for shooting stars, especially when every once in a while, we really do see a shooting star.
I slept until the absurd hour of 8:30. I’m not quite sure how I did that, but I think all of the travel contributed to the tiredness. I didn’t have a lot to do in the morning, so I dove into a new puzzle book I got. The game is called Kakuro, and it is probably the most difficult Sudoku-like puzzle I have played. I took me hours to finish one puzzle. Just when I was feeling good about myself, Richie reminded me “it’s just a puzzle.” Thanks.
I went on the hunt for my packages. I ran into the Padre here who guided me in the right direction to the school manager. The manager opened the door, and instead of seeing the expected four packages, I saw six. Oh my God, it’s Christmas in Machanga. I was overwhelmed by the amount of food, reading material, and DVDs in these boxes. I think we now have enough food to open a homeless shelter and enough magazines to start a small library. Forget teaching; all I wanted to do was open and sort these packages.
I had mixed feelings about teaching today. There was a part of me that was ready to get back to doing what I was brought here to do. At the same time, I knew only a few kids were going to pay attention. I was welcomed back by students from other classes, and I used that momentum to get through the day. The students were pretty responsive, so for today, I can’t complain about my work here.
Usually, we try to avoid making spaghetti two nights in a row. We like to mix it up, even if “mixing it up” means spaghetti every other day. But now we had even more ingredients – canned mushrooms and canned chicken – to throw into the sauce. It was paradise in a pot. And if that wasn’t enough, we made the cake that my aunt sent me for my birthday. By the end of the night, we felt sick. And we only finished a quarter of it!
We finished watching “Into the Wild.” Good movie with good music. The energy went out at 9 on the dot. I lay down, flipped on the fan that my parents sent me and went to bed easily. With a little flair from America, this place is a lot more tolerable.
The sickness brought on by the cake bled over into the morning. Richie beat me to it. He had two early-morning trips to the bathroom before I made my first. It would not be a pleasant day for either of us on that front.
Richie and I spent a little time cleaning up around the house. Coming back from Maputo, we didn’t do a great job of keeping the place in good shape. I organized the contents of my packages into semi-legitimate categories. We now have a meat section, a sweets section, a fruits and veggies section, and a health foods section. It’s quite beautiful.
I spent the better part of the morning working on a new game book, something called Kenken. It’s somewhat like Sudoku with a little bit of arithmetic involved. It was way too easy. I knocked off the 100-puzzle book in a couple of hours. I think I’ll stick to Kakuro.
With all of these new ingredients, we now have the capability to make something other than potato pancakes and scrambled eggs for lunch. We put together a pretty killer chicken stir fry. We’ll be bringing that into the rotation as long as we have chicken in the house.
I got out of teaching early today. As I was about to begin teaching one of my eleventh grade classes, some kids from the other class approached me. They told me that their teacher wasn’t there and they wanted to combine classes. Let’s see: less time in the class, less writing to be done, less explaining – sounds pretty good to me. 70 faces stared on as I explained what would be on their midterm.
As I walked back from class, Richie was playing Frisbee with some of the kids. Some of them have figured out this plate-throwing thing and have become really good. Of course, I wanted in on this action. By the end of our little throwing session, we had four kids throwing with us, and many other people watching on. Exhausted after twenty or thirty minutes, Richie and I sat back on our porch and watch the kids play.
There was one kid in particular who was of interest to me. He has played Frisbee with us for a while and has picked up a lot of tricks. He knows what he’s doing. After a couple minutes, I noticed that he was teaching one of the newcomers how to throw in a particular way. As I watched this, I thought to myself that this was a tidy metaphor for my role here in Machanga. We spent a little bit of time teaching this kid how to play Frisbee and now he is teaching others. All it takes is one person, and that one person can influence someone else. And long after Richie and I are gone, these kids will be teaching more kids how to throw a Frisbee.
Likewise, if I can just reach one kid who really wants to learn English, maybe he or she will go on to teach a bunch of other people how to speak English. It was a beautiful thing to watch and it’s something I’m going to try to keep in mind throughout my time here, especially when I think that no one is listening.
I spent a little bit of the afternoon helping a kid with some math. He was learning about parabolas. He asked if I could help, and as a math lover, I was willing. Of course, all of my explanation had to be in Portuguese. I think that is probably the best measurement of my language ability. Sure, I can go to the market without problem, travel with ease, and carry on a decent conversation. But now, as I get more comfortable with this language, I am able to talk about things that are way beyond my training. We didn’t learn any vocabulary about functions in training: all of that has come from small sessions like this.
This experience is a lot of give and take. We do give a lot. We give our time and our energy. But what we don’t get paid in money, we get in other forms. We get it in the occasional free crab our corn, the extra help with language, and the general appreciation of a student.
Our night was calm. Richie cooked up some pretty delicious pancakes. We watched a couple episodes from season 1 of “House.” Now that we have the first four seasons, we can watch the series in order. It rained again during the night, and the pitter-patter of the rain on our tin roof eased me into sleep.
The rain subsided by the morning. It looked like it was going to be a beautiful day. I soaked my sheets in soap filled water, preparing them for a good wash in a bit. The rain from last night turned our roads into a half-sludge, half-solid mess. I had to watch my step as I walked to the market with a pack of smiling crianças behind me. I managed to get to the market with only one foot muddied. When I returned from the market, Richie looked like death. He is not feeling well. Whatever we had before Maputo has stuck with him.
We were back to our regular potato and egg lunch. It’s not so bad when it’s mixed in with some other food. It’s after we eat it three weeks in a row that it becomes stale.
My lesson for the day was short. And once again, I got lucky with my classes. I don’t know where all the teachers are, but a lot of classes have some periods cancelled. This benefited me because instead of teaching the first and last hours of the day, I was able to teach just the first two periods. With my afternoon open, I sat back and read through some of the magazines my family sent me. Richie and I witnessed something straight out of “Planet Earth” – a hawk swooped in and lifted a chicken about 100 yards to enjoy a delicious lunch. It was awesome.
It is getting darker earlier every day. The sun is now and its way out just before our energy comes out. We had an angry sunset today. Dark grey puffy clouds rolled in as the last bits of orange sun gave way. Just as it was getting difficult to see, the energy came on. We cooked up some delicious tomato sauce, spaghetti and garlic bread, and watched some “House” before our energy went out.
I struggled to fall asleep, but had no reason to have such troubles. It wasn’t too hot and I had no major obligations for the weekend. But once I fell asleep, I was out. I woke up feeling refreshed – a few minutes before midnight. Damnit. By midnight, it was hot. I woke up in a dead sweat. I grabbed a glass of water, turned on a fan, and went back to bed.
The second wake-up was at an appropriate hour. I got out of bed, whipped up the beer batter for onion rings, and headed for the patio to sit down with my newest obsession – Kakuro. It took me hours to complete one puzzle, but just (“just”) 45 minutes to complete another. I love and hate this game for the same reason: I fuck it up a lot. Sudoku and Kenken are too easy and take too little time. This is a good challenge.
Being Saturday, we had plenty of time to cook up lunch. We had a rare two-course meal: a delicious onion ring appetizer followed by stir fry. It was almost too delicious to be true. It’s a shame we can indulge in onion rings once a week.
After lunch, Richie went back to bed. I’m starting to worry a little bit about his health. He’s not really getting better but not really getting worse. From what he talks about and how he sounds, it seems to be similar to what I had in training. If that is the case, there is no medication that can help him. While he rested, I sat down with my Kakuro book and knocked out another puzzle.
The wind never stopped blowing during the afternoon. A colleague explained to us that we got the wind because of the river. But I find that hard to believe; if that was the case, it would be windy all day every day. After our colleague left, one my students came by to get some English help. I got the truth out of him though: he was bored in his house and needed something to do.
Our energy came on right at 6, but our lightbulb is no longer working – a minor frustration, but nothing we can’t deal with. We cooked up some French toast and watched some “House” to bring the week to a close.
It’s kind of nice to be back at site. In spite of this recent lull in meaning or purpose, it was a good feeling to come back to a group who wanted us there.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Three Months at Site -- When Idealism Meets Reality
At the end of last week, our country director put up a chart showing the emotional roller coaster that is the Peace Corps. The chart shows a bottoming out at the three month mark at site. Well, here we are at the three month site, and here I am bottoming out.
After three months at site, and after a little more than a month of teaching, the realities of my role as a teacher are clear. Most of my students, in spite of opting to stay in school for the extra two years, don’t really have much interest in learning English. And it is easy to see why. The vast majority of students will never use English outside of the classroom. They will go back to Beira and speak Portuguese and Ndau. Or they will go back to Maputo and speak Portuguese and Changana. But most of them won’t speak English, so what is the incentive?
I understand this from a student’s point of view. I took three years of high school Spanish and barely learned a thing because I knew I would never need to use it. It was just a necessity to graduate, and the same may be true here for students.
I guess the difference here is the wealth of opportunities available for people who speak English. The examples are crystal clear. The people who work at the front desk of this hotel all speak English. I’m sure they get paid well. There are business and political opportunities for those who speak English. The chances are literally endless. What isn’t there, it seems, are personal drive and future orientation.
Some of this, I realize, is my job. Half of the role of a teacher, whether in Machanga, Managua, or Manchester, is to be a cheerleader. We have to get our students interested in the material. But we can only do so much. It is hard to be that cheerleader when the crowd isn’t responsive. As a result, it becomes more difficult to rally the troops, pick up their morale, and get them involved. It is a terrible cycle.
The worst part is that it gives me a feeling of being marginalized. If the students don’t want to be there, if they don’t want to learn English, what is the point? What is my purpose? And with the issues in Machanga, isn’t there something of more pressing importance that we should be doing?
I don’t mean to minimize what I am doing here. I would like to think that what I am doing here is important. I know that there are some students who are really eager to learn and – given the smallest window of opportunity – will do great things. But this is the smallest of minorities.
It’s not so easy to deal with this. As Volunteers, we want to “save the world,” even though we know it’s impossible. It is that hope or naïveté that drove us to this point; why shouldn’t it drive us now? The answer is this: because idealism has met face to face with reality. We come in with hopes and dreams and expectations that seem so reasonable in the United States, and when it becomes obvious that there are unattainable, we are forced to lower those expectations. And that is very difficult to do for Americans who are told to aim for the stars. It is difficult to say, “It’s okay to barely get off the ground.”
But there is hope yet. There are opportunities outside of the classroom to make an impact. A tangible impact. I am sure – or at least I hope – that I will do something of value for someone here beyond the classroom. When the situation is dire, even the smallest of stones thrown will cause waves.
That’s what keeps us going.
After three months at site, and after a little more than a month of teaching, the realities of my role as a teacher are clear. Most of my students, in spite of opting to stay in school for the extra two years, don’t really have much interest in learning English. And it is easy to see why. The vast majority of students will never use English outside of the classroom. They will go back to Beira and speak Portuguese and Ndau. Or they will go back to Maputo and speak Portuguese and Changana. But most of them won’t speak English, so what is the incentive?
I understand this from a student’s point of view. I took three years of high school Spanish and barely learned a thing because I knew I would never need to use it. It was just a necessity to graduate, and the same may be true here for students.
I guess the difference here is the wealth of opportunities available for people who speak English. The examples are crystal clear. The people who work at the front desk of this hotel all speak English. I’m sure they get paid well. There are business and political opportunities for those who speak English. The chances are literally endless. What isn’t there, it seems, are personal drive and future orientation.
Some of this, I realize, is my job. Half of the role of a teacher, whether in Machanga, Managua, or Manchester, is to be a cheerleader. We have to get our students interested in the material. But we can only do so much. It is hard to be that cheerleader when the crowd isn’t responsive. As a result, it becomes more difficult to rally the troops, pick up their morale, and get them involved. It is a terrible cycle.
The worst part is that it gives me a feeling of being marginalized. If the students don’t want to be there, if they don’t want to learn English, what is the point? What is my purpose? And with the issues in Machanga, isn’t there something of more pressing importance that we should be doing?
I don’t mean to minimize what I am doing here. I would like to think that what I am doing here is important. I know that there are some students who are really eager to learn and – given the smallest window of opportunity – will do great things. But this is the smallest of minorities.
It’s not so easy to deal with this. As Volunteers, we want to “save the world,” even though we know it’s impossible. It is that hope or naïveté that drove us to this point; why shouldn’t it drive us now? The answer is this: because idealism has met face to face with reality. We come in with hopes and dreams and expectations that seem so reasonable in the United States, and when it becomes obvious that there are unattainable, we are forced to lower those expectations. And that is very difficult to do for Americans who are told to aim for the stars. It is difficult to say, “It’s okay to barely get off the ground.”
But there is hope yet. There are opportunities outside of the classroom to make an impact. A tangible impact. I am sure – or at least I hope – that I will do something of value for someone here beyond the classroom. When the situation is dire, even the smallest of stones thrown will cause waves.
That’s what keeps us going.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Year 1 - Week 13: Posh Corps
I was up on the early side on Sunday, but managed to sleep until a reasonable hour of departure. We were slated for an easy travel day – easy compared to yesterday and what we expect for tomorrow. We bought some bread and walked down to the pier where the boats cross the bay to Inhambane City. The bay was glass – perfectly still, reflective with almost no blur. The grey-blue sky matched the grey-blue of the bay; the only way to know where the bay ended and the sky began was a few sail boats dotting the horizon. I couldn’t take my eyes away.
We walked over to the chapa stand where a possibly drunk man asked for food and then cigarettes. He told us he was poor. We know. A man at the chapa stand told us that chapas only run to Tofo beach in the afternoon. That seemed a little suspicious, but we bought it. We caught a quick Coke and tried our luck again. This time, I asked a kid if chapas ran to Tofo, and he said yes. He too asked me for money, and I told him I’d throw him some change if he found us a chapa for Tofo. Within two minutes, we were off and running. The ride to Tofo sucks: the car stops every 300 meters on this potholed road to drop off or pick up.
But the destination is so worth it. Tofo is spectacular. The beach stretches for miles. The ocean fades easily from green to blue-green to dark blue. It’s hot, but it’s nothing a dip in the ocean and a shaded hammock can’t cure. After swimming, I ran into town to grab some food and drink. We were in for a long night.
The drinks were poured with ease. Almost too easily. And the more we drank, the easier the conversation came, in both English and Portuguese. I met a guy from Canada who has spent the last five years bouncing around the world – from the Caribbean to Egypt to Europe to South Africa and now Mozambique – teaching Scuba diving. Nice way to live. He crashed early, but I stayed up until 1 AM having a conversation in Portuguese with a Rasta man and a security guard. It was probably the best and most Portuguese I have spoken in a while.
Staying up until 1 drinking rum seemed like a good idea at the time, but I recognized the consequences at 3:30, when I had to wake up to catch the bus to Maputo. I can’t even say I was hung over – I was definitely still drunk. The nine-hour drive to Maputo was probably the nine most uncomfortable hours here. It was like someone took a two-by-four to kill a mosquito on my forehead, but didn’t get it the first time, so he needed a second shot.
By 1, we were in Maputo and checked into a hotel, complete with Wi-fi, air conditioning, and BBC. Hello, beautiful! I didn’t leave the room until dinner. I sat listening to news in English, downloading the new U2 album, reading Facebook comments from my birthday, and writing emails. I’ve been exposed to so little internet the last five or six months, I barely know what to do anymore. Richie and I left the room briefly, to indulge on a couple plates of chicken and beef. Upon our return, we were both back online, talking to friends and family, uploading pictures, being carefree about how much time we spend online. My family all told me what I realized a couple days ago – with this beard, I am my father from 35 years ago. We both crashed later than usually to the wonderful feeling of coldness.
Our schedule for Tuesday wasn’t exactly ambitious. We needed to do some shopping in the city for items we can’t even get in Vilanculos. We stopped in the Peace Corps office to try to get some money back from our trip down (which we should get tomorrow) and found our hotel. This place is ridiculous: four stars, buffet, Wi-Fi, pool, amazing. It’s like it’s not even a part of Mozambique, at least not the Mozambique that Machanga is in. Richie and I dropped off our bags in rooms that are as big as our house and we were off.
There was only one problem: we weren’t sure which chapa to use to get from one side of town to another. We asked a security guard who introduced us to a man who could help. We had this entire conversation in Portuguese and then he wrote a note asking the chapa drivers assistant to help “os dos senhores estrangeiros.” We laughed, told him we lived here, and he gave us simple directions. Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?
We knocked out our shopping pretty quickly and put some food in our bellies. Each of us thoroughly enjoyed our beef and chicken shawarmas. We were back to the hotel by 2, primed for some pool time. By the time we got back, some more Volunteers had filtered in to the hotel. The rest of the afternoon was relaxing: sitting poolside, catching up with old friends, waiting for dinner.
7:30 couldn’t come soon enough, and the spread that was put out was only slightly outrageous – chicken, some cheesy fishy thing, and many servings of lots of other foods. It’s going to be a good week for eating. After dinner, a couple of us watched the Chelsea-Juventus UEFA game on TV.
Wednesday was like a throwback to Namaacha: up on the early side, breakfast, and a day in training. We relearned how to lesson plan and what types of activities work well. We talked about some successes and some failures over our first three months at site. It was a productive day.
At lunch, all of the boys decided that we were going to weigh ourselves. We have all lost weight, and we wanted to see who had lost the most – and who can put on the most this week. Five of the seven of us lost more than 20 pounds. I’m down only 21, and I’m sure I’ve put on a couple pounds just in the last couple days here. We’ll weigh in again at week’s end.
Thursday and Friday bled together and are written together. Many of the Volunteers from around the region brought Mozambican counterparts with them to help develop secondary projects in their towns and villages. Richie and I chose not to bring anyone because our school is already short on teachers. The two days were mostly slow and often repetitive, at least for us Americans. But for the Mozambicans – the people who really need to know this – this was a good opportunity to see what goes into developing a project.
By Friday night, almost all of the Moz 12 Volunteers had rolled into the hotel for the weekend’s trainings and festivities. We spent some quality time hanging out, drinking gin or beer, talking about our experiences across the country.
We were all together for sessions on Saturday. The day was long. We got a brief introduction into who will be our new Country Director come mid-year. We had a survey on expenses and an update on the cholera situation in the country. And of course, three more shots to the left arm. Just when I think we won’t get any more shots, there are always more.
The afternoon on Saturday was more interesting. All of the major secondary projects met to talk about what they do. I am interested in Future Business Leaders of Mozambique. The amount of funding is huge, and the results are more measurable and tangible than the results from teaching. I think that is what I’m missing right now – something tangible, so I can say “This is what I did in my two years in Machanga.” More on that later.
All you really need to know is this: I’ve become good and fat this week. This isn’t Peace Corps; this is Posh Corps.
We walked over to the chapa stand where a possibly drunk man asked for food and then cigarettes. He told us he was poor. We know. A man at the chapa stand told us that chapas only run to Tofo beach in the afternoon. That seemed a little suspicious, but we bought it. We caught a quick Coke and tried our luck again. This time, I asked a kid if chapas ran to Tofo, and he said yes. He too asked me for money, and I told him I’d throw him some change if he found us a chapa for Tofo. Within two minutes, we were off and running. The ride to Tofo sucks: the car stops every 300 meters on this potholed road to drop off or pick up.
But the destination is so worth it. Tofo is spectacular. The beach stretches for miles. The ocean fades easily from green to blue-green to dark blue. It’s hot, but it’s nothing a dip in the ocean and a shaded hammock can’t cure. After swimming, I ran into town to grab some food and drink. We were in for a long night.
The drinks were poured with ease. Almost too easily. And the more we drank, the easier the conversation came, in both English and Portuguese. I met a guy from Canada who has spent the last five years bouncing around the world – from the Caribbean to Egypt to Europe to South Africa and now Mozambique – teaching Scuba diving. Nice way to live. He crashed early, but I stayed up until 1 AM having a conversation in Portuguese with a Rasta man and a security guard. It was probably the best and most Portuguese I have spoken in a while.
Staying up until 1 drinking rum seemed like a good idea at the time, but I recognized the consequences at 3:30, when I had to wake up to catch the bus to Maputo. I can’t even say I was hung over – I was definitely still drunk. The nine-hour drive to Maputo was probably the nine most uncomfortable hours here. It was like someone took a two-by-four to kill a mosquito on my forehead, but didn’t get it the first time, so he needed a second shot.
By 1, we were in Maputo and checked into a hotel, complete with Wi-fi, air conditioning, and BBC. Hello, beautiful! I didn’t leave the room until dinner. I sat listening to news in English, downloading the new U2 album, reading Facebook comments from my birthday, and writing emails. I’ve been exposed to so little internet the last five or six months, I barely know what to do anymore. Richie and I left the room briefly, to indulge on a couple plates of chicken and beef. Upon our return, we were both back online, talking to friends and family, uploading pictures, being carefree about how much time we spend online. My family all told me what I realized a couple days ago – with this beard, I am my father from 35 years ago. We both crashed later than usually to the wonderful feeling of coldness.
Our schedule for Tuesday wasn’t exactly ambitious. We needed to do some shopping in the city for items we can’t even get in Vilanculos. We stopped in the Peace Corps office to try to get some money back from our trip down (which we should get tomorrow) and found our hotel. This place is ridiculous: four stars, buffet, Wi-Fi, pool, amazing. It’s like it’s not even a part of Mozambique, at least not the Mozambique that Machanga is in. Richie and I dropped off our bags in rooms that are as big as our house and we were off.
There was only one problem: we weren’t sure which chapa to use to get from one side of town to another. We asked a security guard who introduced us to a man who could help. We had this entire conversation in Portuguese and then he wrote a note asking the chapa drivers assistant to help “os dos senhores estrangeiros.” We laughed, told him we lived here, and he gave us simple directions. Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?
We knocked out our shopping pretty quickly and put some food in our bellies. Each of us thoroughly enjoyed our beef and chicken shawarmas. We were back to the hotel by 2, primed for some pool time. By the time we got back, some more Volunteers had filtered in to the hotel. The rest of the afternoon was relaxing: sitting poolside, catching up with old friends, waiting for dinner.
7:30 couldn’t come soon enough, and the spread that was put out was only slightly outrageous – chicken, some cheesy fishy thing, and many servings of lots of other foods. It’s going to be a good week for eating. After dinner, a couple of us watched the Chelsea-Juventus UEFA game on TV.
Wednesday was like a throwback to Namaacha: up on the early side, breakfast, and a day in training. We relearned how to lesson plan and what types of activities work well. We talked about some successes and some failures over our first three months at site. It was a productive day.
At lunch, all of the boys decided that we were going to weigh ourselves. We have all lost weight, and we wanted to see who had lost the most – and who can put on the most this week. Five of the seven of us lost more than 20 pounds. I’m down only 21, and I’m sure I’ve put on a couple pounds just in the last couple days here. We’ll weigh in again at week’s end.
Thursday and Friday bled together and are written together. Many of the Volunteers from around the region brought Mozambican counterparts with them to help develop secondary projects in their towns and villages. Richie and I chose not to bring anyone because our school is already short on teachers. The two days were mostly slow and often repetitive, at least for us Americans. But for the Mozambicans – the people who really need to know this – this was a good opportunity to see what goes into developing a project.
By Friday night, almost all of the Moz 12 Volunteers had rolled into the hotel for the weekend’s trainings and festivities. We spent some quality time hanging out, drinking gin or beer, talking about our experiences across the country.
We were all together for sessions on Saturday. The day was long. We got a brief introduction into who will be our new Country Director come mid-year. We had a survey on expenses and an update on the cholera situation in the country. And of course, three more shots to the left arm. Just when I think we won’t get any more shots, there are always more.
The afternoon on Saturday was more interesting. All of the major secondary projects met to talk about what they do. I am interested in Future Business Leaders of Mozambique. The amount of funding is huge, and the results are more measurable and tangible than the results from teaching. I think that is what I’m missing right now – something tangible, so I can say “This is what I did in my two years in Machanga.” More on that later.
All you really need to know is this: I’ve become good and fat this week. This isn’t Peace Corps; this is Posh Corps.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Year 1 - Week 12: Like Fishing with Sonar and GPS
It’s hard to believe that it is March already. We are beginning our third full month at site and our sixth month overall in Mozambique. Even though days like Sunday feel like an eternity, it has been very fast in retrospect.
Even though the night was tolerable, by 7 AM it was already scorching hot.
I woke up in a dead heat. The heat plus clear skies gave me a window to do some laundry. Yes, laundry. We have started giving laundry to a kid who will do it for us for nothing, but we both feel like we can still do some ourselves, so we take care of the easy stuff like shirts, and the more personal items like underwear. It’s the least we could do.
By 8:30, after four bacias worth of laundry, I was exhausted. It is kind of ridiculous to feel like I have put in a full day’s work before 9:00, but a nap at 9:00 just wasn’t going to happen. So I replanted some flowers. My morning glories that it put in front of the house never grew well; they were either wiped out by the rain or eaten by chickens. I have this new set growing in aluminum cans, so I can transplant them when the weather dries up.
Bordem struck by 9:30. Richie and wanted to throw around the Frisbee, but we wanted to try to attract some talent, potential for an Ultimate Frisbee team. Unfortunately, the only talent we attracted was that of a couple six year olds. We’re looking for 16 year olds. It was still fun to watch little African kids throw around a plate. More boredom –
As I was preparing to cook lunch, my sister called. 11:30 AM is an odd time to receive a call from the West Coast. With the ten hour time difference, this could only be a drunk dial. And it was. Thanks, Sach – that brightened my day.
Richie and I ate our regular lunch. While relaxing outside after eating, one of my students came by for help. He is a really good student – he has come to the house many times, always asks good questions, always trying to speak English. He stayed for about an hour, asking questions on everything from verb tenses to how to read a watch.
By mid afternoon, we were bored again. But this time, our boredom was cured by the arrival of crabs. Last week, Richie met a kid who said that he would bring crabs for us on Sunday, and true to his word, the kid came through. What shocked us was that we didn’t pay a metical. This we did not expect. And it was only the beginning of the giving. A couple of kids helped us prepare the crab because Richie and I aren’t exactly seafood experts. As the crabs cooked, we threw around the Frisbee with the kids.
Between the student coming over and the crab preparation, the afternoon passed by decently. My parents gave me a ring right as I was heading to the market. Richie and I realized that we didn’t have tomato paste for sauce. I borrowed a bike and rode down a torn up road in the dark. Unbelievably, I didn’t fall. The one store that was open didn’t have tomato paste, so the mama in the store just gave us three tomatoes. We made our crab meat spaghetti sauce, which was decent, watched some “South Park” and crashed.
Monday began early; I was awakened by text messages from the United States. I hate the sound of the phone ringing in the morning, but if it is someone from the United States, it lessens the pain. My mom and my sister both sent me happy birthday text messages. It is funny that they can send text messages on March 1 for them, and I get them when it is March 2.
The morning was low key. Richie and I sat around for most of the morning on our patio: he did su doko while I did cryptograms. The birthday calls came earlier than expected. I got one from a friend here, and one from my grandfather at 4 AM his time, 11AM my time. And maybe most surprisingly, I got a call from minha mãe, my host mom in Namaacha. I don’t know how she remembered.
My birthday didn’t stop my work schedule. I still had to teach six classes. Square in the middle of those classes, I got a call from my grandmother. I stopped class for a little, chatted briefly, and then told her I was in class. And before those classes ended, it started to rain. Fuckin chuva. It seems like it’s never going to stop sometimes.
After dinner – baby formula pancakes – more phone calls came in. My brother called, quickly followed by his wife. I hadn’t spoken with either for a while, so it was good to catch up.
We were committed to getting a drink tonight. All the mud in the world was not going to stop us from getting to the bar. Fuckin matope. We trudged our way through a mile of mud, barefoot, to get a cold beer. The things we do…While we were out, one of my best friends from stateside called. As we were talking, the power went out. Terrible. We walked back – in the dark – and the mud – and crashed.
We expected our program director to visit us around 10:00. We were primed for 10, but we knew better. We figured that it would be at least the afternoon. We cooked up lunch, I took a shower, and just after noon, our guest arrived, just in time for me to start teaching. And he brought with him one of the best birthday presents I’ve ever received – thirteen letters from my students in San Diego. The letters have been sitting in Maputo for a while and this was the first time anyone has come up from Maputo. It couldn’t have come at a better time.
Our program director mostly just hung out with us, talking about our site and our experience. He sat in on my last class and he gave me pretty good reviews. He told me I should work less, which I found kind of odd. I know that when I teach, I am very active, very energetic. But that is not me working – that is me keeping my students engaged. I mean, sure I feel exhausted after the day, but it’s worth while. After a couple of hours with us, our program director was off to his next site, and we were off to cook dinner. A little spaghetti, a little South Park, and a little time to relax before heading off to bed.
In spite of the weather being on the cool side during the night, I didn’t sleep well. I was up from 3 until 5 and then up again at 6. I’m pretty sure it has cooled down for the long run which is good news. I was hoping that our school director, who was in Beira over the weekend, had packages for me. But it was not meant to be. I called the office and found out I’ll have them no later than next week, a time I will conveniently not be here.
Richie and I had another slow morning and we finally got to the point when we could prep lunch. I can’t even bring myself to describe what we ate. It was the same shit as always. Richie and I both had classes this afternoon. Of course, it rained again right in the middle of classes. I ended a little early, just so I could dodge the rain. Richie wasn’t so lucky. I walked over in my rain jacket, umbrella in hand, gave it to Richie, and he was able to stay dry.
Richie had to continue teaching later in the afternoon, so I started a new book called “Emergency Sex (and Other Desperate Measures).” Surprisingly, 60 pages in, there has been almost no sex. Richie had to polish the book off first, so as he read, I helped another teacher with some English work and starting cooking some French toast. We ate at near-record speed and then started working on making a coffee cake. All in all, it wasn’t too bad. Good enough to kill two-thirds of it in one sitting. We watched some “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” and turned in.
Thursday began with a telephone call far too early for my liking. I turned over to look at the clock on my phone. 6AM – ugh. I sounded dead, to myself, and probably even more to my parents. They called back after an hour’s sleep that felt like an eternity. Right in the middle of the conversation, the coffee cake that was so good last night punched me square in my stomach. It hit Richie an hour before. At least having terrible diarrhea early in the morning means the morning can only improve.
I was on market duty, which isn’t so bad. We didn’t need a lot, so it was a quick trip. On the way back, something big and green caught my eye. Richie and I have vowed to buy anything that even remotely looks like a fruit or vegetable, and watermelon definitely counts. For five Meticais, we can’t lose, right?
What a stupid question to ask. We hacked into something that resembled an oversized, misshapen cucumber – white on the inside with white seeds. It smelled like watermelon, but not the watermelon I’m used to seeing. We each tolerated one piece, and happily donated the remaining 90 percent to the construction workers who have returned to working on the new house. They devoured it like it was the first food they have seen in weeks.
I sat around for the better part of the morning, trying to get through “Emergency Sex.” It’s a not so subtle reminder of why I’m here – because I think that I can contribute to some cause that is greater than me. At the same time, it may be a deterrent for what they do for the better part of their youth – traipse around the world to countries like Somalia and Haiti and Cambodia, trying to feel alive and make a difference. Then again, maybe that’s what I’m living now. This isn’t my first rendezvous in Africa, and like the people in the book, I found a cause I was committed to. For them it lasted more than a decade. But with each passing day here, especially on the bad days but even on the good days, I can’t help but think this will be my last go around in Africa. I can hear my mother’s sigh of relief from thousands of miles away.
I took a break from the monotony of reading to tidy up and organized my room. I hijacked a perfectly sized piece of wood, fit for a shelf, from a classroom yesterday, and today, it went up. It hangs beautifully and evenly beneath my clothes rack, holding my t-shirts, boxers, and the cold-weather gear that so rarely gets worn. The shelf allows me to get rid of one box/clothes holder that I had been using since Day 1 here in Machanga.
We were able to enjoy lunch later than usual. I was able to cancel my first class because we were able to get their test review done yesterday. They were convinced they would all score perfectly. Stupidly convinced, I gave the okay to cancelling class. They will have their chance to prove themselves tomorrow.
My classes in the afternoon tanked. Just another part of this terrible day. I made a big leap into the world of past tense. It is easy and difficult at the same time for different reasons in different languages. In Portuguese, it is easy because it has consistent conjugations with few irregular verbs. This is also the downside – there are conjugations that need to be remembered. English has the opposite conundrum: we have no verb conjugations in the past tense (with the exception of “to be” becoming “was” and “were”), but we have so many irregular verbs that become irregular in so many inconsistent ways. I knew my lesson had tanked ten minutes in.
And the worst of it was I had to give it again to another class. I tried to get through it like I would rip off a band-aid, quick and painless. I got the quick part down, but it definitely had it pain. I watched the entire lesson as one girl in the back corner did everything but try to learn – text message, talk to her neighbor, maybe a Su Doku. I broke at the end of the lesson. I called her out, not exactly gently asking her to write a sentence, just itching to make an example of her. She tanked as hard as my lesson tanked. And then, I think I shattered. I told that class, which is usually pretty good, that if they don’t want to learn English, they can leave. It was a miserable day, and it ended pretty poorly.
After classes, I was able to let my mind venture for a little bit. Richie and I threw the Frisbee for a bit which, as always, drew the attention of people both near and fear. Stupid muzungus throwing their plate around. We were joined by some kids, some who already knew how to threw and catch, some who were knew, some who could barely stand on their own two feet. I threw it around for a bit, and then Richie and I let the kids have at it. There is something surreal about watching these kids throw the Frisbee around. We watched on as the 18-month old got tagged in the leg by incoming fire. A quick cry, nary a tear, and he ran off for mamma.
Of course, the day ended on somewhat of a down note. Our tomatoes had gone bad, as had our bread. We passed on the tomatoes, and reheated the bread back to life. I guess sometimes, you just have to concede the day to the bush.
I woke up early again Friday, without the aid of a phone call, but by the crow of a rooster. Fuckin roosters. Can’t they wait until at least 6? It was a little serendipitous. I had failed to make the beer batter for onion rings last night, so I got up, peed, and got to work. The timing worked out perfectly to start cooking at 10. As I crawled back into bed, I noticed a medium-size spider on the inside – yes, the inside – of my mosquito. Apparently mosquito nets are great for keeping out mosquitoes but not five-centimeter diameter spiders. Maybe it was that spider that was responsible for the bite that turned my left ring finger purple. He will bite no one else – it was a quick death by flip-flop. Some 24 hours this was. Hopefully, when I wake up, it will commence a better day.
How lucky I was. The beer batter looked delicious and tasted just as good as it looked. And we had almost an entire beer left over. We can’t let a good beer go to waste, even if it is warm. So Richie and I sat back around 8 and drank our beer. Tasty.
The morning was slow. I kept on reading “Emergency Sex,” committed to getting through it by day’s end. When it was time to get charcoal going, we were ominously low. We resorted to using twigs, which actually worked quite well. The onion rings – arguably the best part of our week – came out great. Just two exams to give, and I can taste the freedom of a place that is not Machanga.
Each of the classes vowed they were all going to get “vintes” – a perfect score of the 20 on the exam. Maybe they had studied extra hard. Maybe they were over confident. Maybe they had talked to the other classes to get the answers, knowing I was giving the same test. What they didn’t know was that I reordered the questions in the multiple section. These kids don’t know that I’m 23, that I wasn’t a student long ago, and yes, I know every trick in the book. For those who decided to memorize “CADABCCBDB,” they would be in for a world of trouble.
Finding the cheaters is like fishing with sonar and GPS: I can find them with no problem, it’s not even a game. I can cast my line out, look in one direction, and pull back really quick to find eyes that could roll all the way down this entire 60 kilometer dirt road. Some I reprimand, some I keep my eye on, and some I just have to let go. In the end though, all I need to do is make an example of one. And the reality is that when they both fail, or eke by with an 11, it won’t really matter. One girl who was committed to cheating just gave up, turned her paper in nearly blank. Others powered through, and those who committed most egregiously, I called out. I told them I would be separating them for the next test. No argument.
I went back in between classes to grade the first set. This is ugly – by far the highest failing rate of the turmas, and no shortage of students who had memorized “CADABCCBDB.” It’s a shame, because if they would have thought about the questions for a minute, they probably would have been able to answer them correctly.
There wasn’t as much cheating in the second class. The students were more spread out, and this is a better class anyway. They were even more confident than the other group. And, as I found out when I graded their tests, many had memorized the multiple choice answers. I was not born yesterday. And know, instead of being the student angry at the teacher, I was the teacher with whom the students were angry. Weird.
Amidst a splitting headache, I finished “Emergency Sex.” It’s nice to see that all of them go back to regular civilian lives. I popped the grades in my excel spreadsheet and waited for energy to come on. We had our baby formula pancakes. Thankfully, we have just about finished the baby formula, so we can buy some powdered milk in Maputo. Toward the end of our energy, I helped a teacher make a playlist for a festa here this weekend, a festa that we will be missing.
Richie and I were both up before 6 on Saturday. As we walked off the school grounds and toward the review, the weather was almost cold. It was great weather to walk in. Our wait at the river was minimal, maybe 20 minutes, and crossing the river was a piece of cake. Our longest wait was for a chapa heading out of Mambone. Other than that 45 minute wait, we had incredible luck. We jumped in the back of a pickup truck from the crossroads to Inhassoro, hit a chapa almost immediately from Inhassoro to Vilanculos, and then got another chapa from Vilanculos to to Maxixe. It was a long travel day, especially running on only two loaves of bread and a couple of cokes.
We ate dinner with a couple of Volunteers and another NGO worker stationed in Maxixe. I never thought that eating chicken would be considered a treat. We headed back to a Volunteers house to sleep.
Maputo, here we come!
Even though the night was tolerable, by 7 AM it was already scorching hot.
I woke up in a dead heat. The heat plus clear skies gave me a window to do some laundry. Yes, laundry. We have started giving laundry to a kid who will do it for us for nothing, but we both feel like we can still do some ourselves, so we take care of the easy stuff like shirts, and the more personal items like underwear. It’s the least we could do.
By 8:30, after four bacias worth of laundry, I was exhausted. It is kind of ridiculous to feel like I have put in a full day’s work before 9:00, but a nap at 9:00 just wasn’t going to happen. So I replanted some flowers. My morning glories that it put in front of the house never grew well; they were either wiped out by the rain or eaten by chickens. I have this new set growing in aluminum cans, so I can transplant them when the weather dries up.
Bordem struck by 9:30. Richie and wanted to throw around the Frisbee, but we wanted to try to attract some talent, potential for an Ultimate Frisbee team. Unfortunately, the only talent we attracted was that of a couple six year olds. We’re looking for 16 year olds. It was still fun to watch little African kids throw around a plate. More boredom –
As I was preparing to cook lunch, my sister called. 11:30 AM is an odd time to receive a call from the West Coast. With the ten hour time difference, this could only be a drunk dial. And it was. Thanks, Sach – that brightened my day.
Richie and I ate our regular lunch. While relaxing outside after eating, one of my students came by for help. He is a really good student – he has come to the house many times, always asks good questions, always trying to speak English. He stayed for about an hour, asking questions on everything from verb tenses to how to read a watch.
By mid afternoon, we were bored again. But this time, our boredom was cured by the arrival of crabs. Last week, Richie met a kid who said that he would bring crabs for us on Sunday, and true to his word, the kid came through. What shocked us was that we didn’t pay a metical. This we did not expect. And it was only the beginning of the giving. A couple of kids helped us prepare the crab because Richie and I aren’t exactly seafood experts. As the crabs cooked, we threw around the Frisbee with the kids.
Between the student coming over and the crab preparation, the afternoon passed by decently. My parents gave me a ring right as I was heading to the market. Richie and I realized that we didn’t have tomato paste for sauce. I borrowed a bike and rode down a torn up road in the dark. Unbelievably, I didn’t fall. The one store that was open didn’t have tomato paste, so the mama in the store just gave us three tomatoes. We made our crab meat spaghetti sauce, which was decent, watched some “South Park” and crashed.
Monday began early; I was awakened by text messages from the United States. I hate the sound of the phone ringing in the morning, but if it is someone from the United States, it lessens the pain. My mom and my sister both sent me happy birthday text messages. It is funny that they can send text messages on March 1 for them, and I get them when it is March 2.
The morning was low key. Richie and I sat around for most of the morning on our patio: he did su doko while I did cryptograms. The birthday calls came earlier than expected. I got one from a friend here, and one from my grandfather at 4 AM his time, 11AM my time. And maybe most surprisingly, I got a call from minha mãe, my host mom in Namaacha. I don’t know how she remembered.
My birthday didn’t stop my work schedule. I still had to teach six classes. Square in the middle of those classes, I got a call from my grandmother. I stopped class for a little, chatted briefly, and then told her I was in class. And before those classes ended, it started to rain. Fuckin chuva. It seems like it’s never going to stop sometimes.
After dinner – baby formula pancakes – more phone calls came in. My brother called, quickly followed by his wife. I hadn’t spoken with either for a while, so it was good to catch up.
We were committed to getting a drink tonight. All the mud in the world was not going to stop us from getting to the bar. Fuckin matope. We trudged our way through a mile of mud, barefoot, to get a cold beer. The things we do…While we were out, one of my best friends from stateside called. As we were talking, the power went out. Terrible. We walked back – in the dark – and the mud – and crashed.
We expected our program director to visit us around 10:00. We were primed for 10, but we knew better. We figured that it would be at least the afternoon. We cooked up lunch, I took a shower, and just after noon, our guest arrived, just in time for me to start teaching. And he brought with him one of the best birthday presents I’ve ever received – thirteen letters from my students in San Diego. The letters have been sitting in Maputo for a while and this was the first time anyone has come up from Maputo. It couldn’t have come at a better time.
Our program director mostly just hung out with us, talking about our site and our experience. He sat in on my last class and he gave me pretty good reviews. He told me I should work less, which I found kind of odd. I know that when I teach, I am very active, very energetic. But that is not me working – that is me keeping my students engaged. I mean, sure I feel exhausted after the day, but it’s worth while. After a couple of hours with us, our program director was off to his next site, and we were off to cook dinner. A little spaghetti, a little South Park, and a little time to relax before heading off to bed.
In spite of the weather being on the cool side during the night, I didn’t sleep well. I was up from 3 until 5 and then up again at 6. I’m pretty sure it has cooled down for the long run which is good news. I was hoping that our school director, who was in Beira over the weekend, had packages for me. But it was not meant to be. I called the office and found out I’ll have them no later than next week, a time I will conveniently not be here.
Richie and I had another slow morning and we finally got to the point when we could prep lunch. I can’t even bring myself to describe what we ate. It was the same shit as always. Richie and I both had classes this afternoon. Of course, it rained again right in the middle of classes. I ended a little early, just so I could dodge the rain. Richie wasn’t so lucky. I walked over in my rain jacket, umbrella in hand, gave it to Richie, and he was able to stay dry.
Richie had to continue teaching later in the afternoon, so I started a new book called “Emergency Sex (and Other Desperate Measures).” Surprisingly, 60 pages in, there has been almost no sex. Richie had to polish the book off first, so as he read, I helped another teacher with some English work and starting cooking some French toast. We ate at near-record speed and then started working on making a coffee cake. All in all, it wasn’t too bad. Good enough to kill two-thirds of it in one sitting. We watched some “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” and turned in.
Thursday began with a telephone call far too early for my liking. I turned over to look at the clock on my phone. 6AM – ugh. I sounded dead, to myself, and probably even more to my parents. They called back after an hour’s sleep that felt like an eternity. Right in the middle of the conversation, the coffee cake that was so good last night punched me square in my stomach. It hit Richie an hour before. At least having terrible diarrhea early in the morning means the morning can only improve.
I was on market duty, which isn’t so bad. We didn’t need a lot, so it was a quick trip. On the way back, something big and green caught my eye. Richie and I have vowed to buy anything that even remotely looks like a fruit or vegetable, and watermelon definitely counts. For five Meticais, we can’t lose, right?
What a stupid question to ask. We hacked into something that resembled an oversized, misshapen cucumber – white on the inside with white seeds. It smelled like watermelon, but not the watermelon I’m used to seeing. We each tolerated one piece, and happily donated the remaining 90 percent to the construction workers who have returned to working on the new house. They devoured it like it was the first food they have seen in weeks.
I sat around for the better part of the morning, trying to get through “Emergency Sex.” It’s a not so subtle reminder of why I’m here – because I think that I can contribute to some cause that is greater than me. At the same time, it may be a deterrent for what they do for the better part of their youth – traipse around the world to countries like Somalia and Haiti and Cambodia, trying to feel alive and make a difference. Then again, maybe that’s what I’m living now. This isn’t my first rendezvous in Africa, and like the people in the book, I found a cause I was committed to. For them it lasted more than a decade. But with each passing day here, especially on the bad days but even on the good days, I can’t help but think this will be my last go around in Africa. I can hear my mother’s sigh of relief from thousands of miles away.
I took a break from the monotony of reading to tidy up and organized my room. I hijacked a perfectly sized piece of wood, fit for a shelf, from a classroom yesterday, and today, it went up. It hangs beautifully and evenly beneath my clothes rack, holding my t-shirts, boxers, and the cold-weather gear that so rarely gets worn. The shelf allows me to get rid of one box/clothes holder that I had been using since Day 1 here in Machanga.
We were able to enjoy lunch later than usual. I was able to cancel my first class because we were able to get their test review done yesterday. They were convinced they would all score perfectly. Stupidly convinced, I gave the okay to cancelling class. They will have their chance to prove themselves tomorrow.
My classes in the afternoon tanked. Just another part of this terrible day. I made a big leap into the world of past tense. It is easy and difficult at the same time for different reasons in different languages. In Portuguese, it is easy because it has consistent conjugations with few irregular verbs. This is also the downside – there are conjugations that need to be remembered. English has the opposite conundrum: we have no verb conjugations in the past tense (with the exception of “to be” becoming “was” and “were”), but we have so many irregular verbs that become irregular in so many inconsistent ways. I knew my lesson had tanked ten minutes in.
And the worst of it was I had to give it again to another class. I tried to get through it like I would rip off a band-aid, quick and painless. I got the quick part down, but it definitely had it pain. I watched the entire lesson as one girl in the back corner did everything but try to learn – text message, talk to her neighbor, maybe a Su Doku. I broke at the end of the lesson. I called her out, not exactly gently asking her to write a sentence, just itching to make an example of her. She tanked as hard as my lesson tanked. And then, I think I shattered. I told that class, which is usually pretty good, that if they don’t want to learn English, they can leave. It was a miserable day, and it ended pretty poorly.
After classes, I was able to let my mind venture for a little bit. Richie and I threw the Frisbee for a bit which, as always, drew the attention of people both near and fear. Stupid muzungus throwing their plate around. We were joined by some kids, some who already knew how to threw and catch, some who were knew, some who could barely stand on their own two feet. I threw it around for a bit, and then Richie and I let the kids have at it. There is something surreal about watching these kids throw the Frisbee around. We watched on as the 18-month old got tagged in the leg by incoming fire. A quick cry, nary a tear, and he ran off for mamma.
Of course, the day ended on somewhat of a down note. Our tomatoes had gone bad, as had our bread. We passed on the tomatoes, and reheated the bread back to life. I guess sometimes, you just have to concede the day to the bush.
I woke up early again Friday, without the aid of a phone call, but by the crow of a rooster. Fuckin roosters. Can’t they wait until at least 6? It was a little serendipitous. I had failed to make the beer batter for onion rings last night, so I got up, peed, and got to work. The timing worked out perfectly to start cooking at 10. As I crawled back into bed, I noticed a medium-size spider on the inside – yes, the inside – of my mosquito. Apparently mosquito nets are great for keeping out mosquitoes but not five-centimeter diameter spiders. Maybe it was that spider that was responsible for the bite that turned my left ring finger purple. He will bite no one else – it was a quick death by flip-flop. Some 24 hours this was. Hopefully, when I wake up, it will commence a better day.
How lucky I was. The beer batter looked delicious and tasted just as good as it looked. And we had almost an entire beer left over. We can’t let a good beer go to waste, even if it is warm. So Richie and I sat back around 8 and drank our beer. Tasty.
The morning was slow. I kept on reading “Emergency Sex,” committed to getting through it by day’s end. When it was time to get charcoal going, we were ominously low. We resorted to using twigs, which actually worked quite well. The onion rings – arguably the best part of our week – came out great. Just two exams to give, and I can taste the freedom of a place that is not Machanga.
Each of the classes vowed they were all going to get “vintes” – a perfect score of the 20 on the exam. Maybe they had studied extra hard. Maybe they were over confident. Maybe they had talked to the other classes to get the answers, knowing I was giving the same test. What they didn’t know was that I reordered the questions in the multiple section. These kids don’t know that I’m 23, that I wasn’t a student long ago, and yes, I know every trick in the book. For those who decided to memorize “CADABCCBDB,” they would be in for a world of trouble.
Finding the cheaters is like fishing with sonar and GPS: I can find them with no problem, it’s not even a game. I can cast my line out, look in one direction, and pull back really quick to find eyes that could roll all the way down this entire 60 kilometer dirt road. Some I reprimand, some I keep my eye on, and some I just have to let go. In the end though, all I need to do is make an example of one. And the reality is that when they both fail, or eke by with an 11, it won’t really matter. One girl who was committed to cheating just gave up, turned her paper in nearly blank. Others powered through, and those who committed most egregiously, I called out. I told them I would be separating them for the next test. No argument.
I went back in between classes to grade the first set. This is ugly – by far the highest failing rate of the turmas, and no shortage of students who had memorized “CADABCCBDB.” It’s a shame, because if they would have thought about the questions for a minute, they probably would have been able to answer them correctly.
There wasn’t as much cheating in the second class. The students were more spread out, and this is a better class anyway. They were even more confident than the other group. And, as I found out when I graded their tests, many had memorized the multiple choice answers. I was not born yesterday. And know, instead of being the student angry at the teacher, I was the teacher with whom the students were angry. Weird.
Amidst a splitting headache, I finished “Emergency Sex.” It’s nice to see that all of them go back to regular civilian lives. I popped the grades in my excel spreadsheet and waited for energy to come on. We had our baby formula pancakes. Thankfully, we have just about finished the baby formula, so we can buy some powdered milk in Maputo. Toward the end of our energy, I helped a teacher make a playlist for a festa here this weekend, a festa that we will be missing.
Richie and I were both up before 6 on Saturday. As we walked off the school grounds and toward the review, the weather was almost cold. It was great weather to walk in. Our wait at the river was minimal, maybe 20 minutes, and crossing the river was a piece of cake. Our longest wait was for a chapa heading out of Mambone. Other than that 45 minute wait, we had incredible luck. We jumped in the back of a pickup truck from the crossroads to Inhassoro, hit a chapa almost immediately from Inhassoro to Vilanculos, and then got another chapa from Vilanculos to to Maxixe. It was a long travel day, especially running on only two loaves of bread and a couple of cokes.
We ate dinner with a couple of Volunteers and another NGO worker stationed in Maxixe. I never thought that eating chicken would be considered a treat. We headed back to a Volunteers house to sleep.
Maputo, here we come!
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Year 1 - Week 11: Measuring Time in Toothbrushes
Sunday started with a sunrise. And a raging hangover. I was up for the first time at 5:30, just as the sun was rising over the islands off of Vilanculos. I admired the scenery, and decided that I might as well go back to bed for a bit.
Up for the second time around 7:30, I gathered my things in preparation for another long travel day. While I helped sort out who owed money to whom, Richie went into the villa and confirmed there was a chapa directly to Mambone. By 9:30, we were at the chapa stand and by 10:30, we were on the road. We started out slowly, stopping every couple hundred meters in search of more people, but few were to be found.
Outside of the amp that was directly under my seat and pounding terrible Mozambican music, this was probably the most comfortable chapa ride we have had since arriving. For most of the ride, we were sitting three to a row comfortably instead of the customary cramped four per row. The driver made good time. But this was the easy part of the trip. It’s difficult knowing that we have to make the walk back into Machanga.
Pretty tired from the day of travel and the party the night before, we had a pretty relaxing afternoon. As soon as we arrived, we ate delicious Mambone bread and an almost legitimate salad of cucumber, tomato, and onion. I also had an apple for the first time in a while. All these veggies and fruit can’t be good for my system. Right after I finished eating, we started preparing for dinner bit by bit. We had all of our regular ingredients for tomato sauce plus some rare additions – carrots, bell pepper, and canned mushrooms all from Vilanculos. I predicted it would be the best sauce to date; Richie thanked me for jinxing it.
Just as we were about to start cooking, my parents called. Richie was stuck on dinner duty. I had a nice conversation with my parents, a lot of it revolving around their trip out here. Yes, it is months and months away, but it is nice for all of us to have something to look forward to in the long term.
Jinxes, be damned. The sauce was delicious. We made our regular garlic bread with newly acquired olive oil from Vilanculos. After eating, we watched a little bit of “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” before hitting the hay, committing a minor crime of going to bed with the energy still on.
We have found that when we have small milestones, trips, or activities to look forward to, the time passes much more quickly. We know that we get to leave every couple of weeks for money, and trimesters last between nine and 12 weeks. But we each have our own milestones that we use. This morning’s usually mundane activity of brushing my teeth was a little more special than usual because I hit a milestone. Before I left, my mom packed me with ten toothbrushes. Being here for about 100 weeks (and since it is best to change brushes regularly), I get to use a new toothbrush every 10 weeks. I went into the reserves, cracked open my set of brushes, and enjoyed a new brush. It’s just a way to keep us sane.
Monday was an easy day for both Richie and me. We both gave exams, which meant that neither of us had to actually teach. It was time to see how much these kids learned or have not learned. But before we gave the tests, we had to actually write them out. While it rained and with the sunlight at a minimum, I wrote out my exams by candlelight on big paper.
Monday was a milestone day for another reason. It was Larium day, and Richie and I are both running low on Larium. Low enough that we need to text the medical office to send more. We get 10 or 12 pills per packet, so getting so close to the end of a packet is just another way to know time is passing.
Giving exams is boring and slow. A lot of the kids cheat in one way or another. There are a lot of shift eyes. But I think I was able to keep the standard cheat sheets down to a minimum. This test was pretty “un-cheat-sheet-able”; they either knew it or they didn’t.
After six periods of test giving, I set back to see the results. The range was huge: out of 20 points, at least one person received a three and there were a couple of 20s scattered in there. It was quickly apparent who came to class and who didn’t, who participated in class and who didn’t. On the whole though, the students did pretty well.
When the energy came on, another favor asked two favors of me: if I could teach a calculus lesson for his Physics class; and if I could type up an exam for him. The latter I could do with no problem. The former is going to be a challenge. First I have to brush up on my calculus. Then I have to actually understand what is going on in this all-Portuguese book. There’s no bullshitting around this language test. As I was trying to figure all of this out, my grandfather called. So there were three things going on in my head: speaking in English, reading in Portuguese, and doing math. My head nearly exploded.
I returned to the house to help Richie out with dinner. I had started preparing when his family called. Then he took over for a bit while I was talking, and then I took over again. The French toast we made was some of the best yet. And with our new stock of syrup, we were quite satisfied. We finished of a disc of “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” and went to bed.
For the last couple nights, it had been cool, and last night was no exception. Once again, we slept without sweating (at least while we were awake in bed), but we both woke up drowsy. Richie headed to the market while I typed up the teacher’s test and figured out the rest of the trimester.
Just before we started to cook up lunch, a man carrying shrimp came around. We knew that we were making spaghetti later, so we figured we would get some. The man told us that a plate was 20 metacais – about 80 cents. As he piled the shrimp onto this plate, I thought to myself “What would Forrest Gump do with all of this shrimp?” I think there was enough shrimp for the village. So we are now throwing shrimp in everything. We put it in our eggs for lunch, which was quite delicious. And it will go in the tomato sauce for dinner.
Classes went well today. I taught favorites to one set of twelfth graders while the other twelfth graders took an exam. My eleventh graders got the lesson on “should” and “ought to” that the twelfth graders got earlier in the trimester. It is apparent that the students are getting more and more comfortable, both with my teaching style and with the language. I returned home after teaching, graded the most recent set of tests, and started preparing for dinner.
In between grading and dinner, I talked to one of my students who helps some teachers at another house. I asked him if he knew any students who could help Richie and me around the house. We can do most everything here, but there are some things like deshelling shrimp and washing clothes that we just don’t want to do. The kid said that he would help out with another kid. Perfect.
Having shrimp in the pasta sauce was delicious. It was definitely a twist on what we are used to. We’ll probably have one more day until this shrimp goes bad – not having a refrigerator is kind of tough. But if we waste a little bit of shrimp, we are not going to cry over the 20 cents.
I slept through the night (I think we might finally be getting comfortable here), which including a massive storm. Richie said it happened around 5 or 5:30 but hell if I know; I was gone. I went outside and noticed that our buckets had been filled. I asked Richie if he put them out, and he said no. Curious, to say the least. Then the kid from last night came over, and I knew my answer. I told him that we didn’t need that much help, just with laundry and some other small things when needed.
It took two days, but I finally figured out how to get all of students learning the same amount of content for the trimester. It sounds like it shouldn’t be challenging, but I have four groups of eleventh graders, two of which started two weeks late. They meet five times per week. My twelfth graders meet three times a week, so I have to teach everything to them faster.
Luckily, the groups that started late are pretty quick learners. One group especially is really powering through the material. We were supposed to meet three times today, but we got everything done in two sessions. The last session is supposed to be the end of their day and the end of mine, so if we can cover everything, I’m happy to let them go early. Everybody wins.
I finally got my hands on the class lists for twelfth grade. Just before energy came on, I started popping the names into an Excel sheet. The twelfth graders did a nice job on the test. About 90 percent of them passed the test, which is definitely more than I expected. I am happily pleased. We will see soon if the eleventh graders are as good.
Richie took care of making our baby formula pancakes. We slightly altered the recipe and they came out pretty good. We watched a little “Scrubs” and went to bed.
I didn’t have a lot to do Thursday morning, and it was kind of nice. I was able to just sit back with no real obligations except for going to the market. That, however, proved to be amazing on this day. I went on the hunt for beer in preparation for the weekend and for making onion rings. What I stumbled upon shocked me: legitimately cold beer. I came back from the market as quickly as possible and I think Richie was as stunned as I was. We both knew exactly what we had to do. There is no reason to waste a cold beer.
We killed our beers and started preparing for lunch. Like I said, we didn’t have a lot to do. Mostly, we just waited out the clock until we could actually cook.
Classes went pretty well. My last class of the day meets for two consecutive periods, and thankfully they are a group of quick learners. I can usually get in all the material I need in one period instead of the two. It’s probably not the best thing to do, but considering they outperformed all the other classes on the exam, I’m okay with it.
As I started preparing dinner before, we received some mail. A big envelope had the words “Richie & Lee – Os Americanos, Machanga.” The person bringing the mail had no problem finding us. The only thing that would have made it better is if it had said “Os Muzungus.” I received four receipts for packages and a birthday card from my parents. They were prepared and sent a “Happy belated card,” but amazingly, it got here on time. I would have done the same thing.
After dinner, I was summoned into the computer lab again. Some people just needed some documents printed for Beira. I found out that people were heading to Beira over the weekend, which was good news. I sent the receipts with some money up with the people going to Beira. Hopefully I will receive those packages next week.
Richie and I knew we were in for a big day Friday. We were committed to going out to the villa for a drink or two with some colleagues. But first, I had to work. I read through the physical chemistry manual that the teacher had given me, but I wasn’t of much help. It has been a long time since I learned calculus, and differential equations weren’t exactly my strong suit.
I had four classes in the afternoon, all with my late-starting groups. Just like yesterday, I had a double class to end the day with a fast-learning group. I was able to get everything done in one period. Everybody was happy to leave early. Upon my return, I put in one last set of grades from exams. All of the classes performed with amazing consistency – an average of 13 out of 20, with 85 percent passing (passing here is 10 or more).
Then the drinking began. We had four beers left from yesterday’s beer run and we figured we could pregame before heading out. The idea would have been better if it wasn’t on an empty stomach. We started dinner only slightly buzzed, making decent pancakes and some pre-packaged pasta.
It was really nice to get out into the villa during the evening. It is a little surprising that it took us nearly 11 weeks to go out at night. Usually, by 9:30, we are exhausted. But with some liquid help, we made it until midnight. It was a pretty fun night. One of the teachers we went out with spoke decent English, so we kept bouncing in between languages. It was a good exchange of language.
All the fun from last night created a little bit of mayhem in the morning. I was up at 6 with a massive hangover. Richie says he woke up with his head on the floor. I don’t even know how that is possible. We were committed to going to Mambone, but we needed to recover first. We both went back to bed for a bit to fight the hangovers.
We kind of got our day going around 8:30. I cut up some onions and lit carvão to cook up some onion rings and eggs. All the batter on the onion rings definitely helped us. We were feeling a little better, but still exhausted. Once again, we were down for the count.
Take three. Finally, we were awake for good around 10. We were off to Mambone with a couple of other teachers and some students. The idea was to go drinking again, but Richie and I both thought it wouldn’t be a great idea.
Speaking of things that were not great ideas: following the teachers on a different path to Mambone was a terrible idea. One would think that they would know the best way to get to the river because they live here. We were wrong. At various points during the trek – and let me emphasize, this was a trek – we walked through disgusting water, ankle-deep mud, and scalding hot sand. Oh yea, and this path was much longer to the river. Terrible idea. We thought we had walked long enough that we were actually in Mambone. And then we hit the river. Terrible, terrible idea.
Once we were in Mambone, things were a little awkward. Some people – like us – went to buy things; others started drinking. After about an hour, we all settled at a bar. Richie and I chose not to drink. It was probably the best idea all day. Even being at the bar though was a little awkward. Everyone was speaking really quickly, sometimes not even in Portuguese, leaving Richie and I pretty much in the dark. We want on search of a hat for me, but I got massively sidetracked. I saw an old-school Latrell Sprewell Golden State Warriors jersey. For 150 meticais – 6 dollars – I had to buy it. I also got a pretty sweet England soccer jersey for the same price.
By the time we got back, people were ready to head back. The others wanted to go back the same way we came. We told them we would race them home. And in spite of sitting on the Mambone side of the river for 30 minutes waiting for a canoe, we still got home 20 minutes ahead of the others. We felt slightly redeemed.
Both Richie and I spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing. Richie napped until the energy came on. I cleaned up around the house and fashioned a rather excellent pants hanger out of a couple sticks and some wire. It was suffice until we can buy more hangers in Maputo.
Oh yes, Maputo. We have a meeting in Maputo the second week in March. We are already counting down the days. But between now and then, there is a birthday (mine) to celebrate, a visit from our program director, and a week’s worth of teaching.
Up for the second time around 7:30, I gathered my things in preparation for another long travel day. While I helped sort out who owed money to whom, Richie went into the villa and confirmed there was a chapa directly to Mambone. By 9:30, we were at the chapa stand and by 10:30, we were on the road. We started out slowly, stopping every couple hundred meters in search of more people, but few were to be found.
Outside of the amp that was directly under my seat and pounding terrible Mozambican music, this was probably the most comfortable chapa ride we have had since arriving. For most of the ride, we were sitting three to a row comfortably instead of the customary cramped four per row. The driver made good time. But this was the easy part of the trip. It’s difficult knowing that we have to make the walk back into Machanga.
Pretty tired from the day of travel and the party the night before, we had a pretty relaxing afternoon. As soon as we arrived, we ate delicious Mambone bread and an almost legitimate salad of cucumber, tomato, and onion. I also had an apple for the first time in a while. All these veggies and fruit can’t be good for my system. Right after I finished eating, we started preparing for dinner bit by bit. We had all of our regular ingredients for tomato sauce plus some rare additions – carrots, bell pepper, and canned mushrooms all from Vilanculos. I predicted it would be the best sauce to date; Richie thanked me for jinxing it.
Just as we were about to start cooking, my parents called. Richie was stuck on dinner duty. I had a nice conversation with my parents, a lot of it revolving around their trip out here. Yes, it is months and months away, but it is nice for all of us to have something to look forward to in the long term.
Jinxes, be damned. The sauce was delicious. We made our regular garlic bread with newly acquired olive oil from Vilanculos. After eating, we watched a little bit of “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” before hitting the hay, committing a minor crime of going to bed with the energy still on.
We have found that when we have small milestones, trips, or activities to look forward to, the time passes much more quickly. We know that we get to leave every couple of weeks for money, and trimesters last between nine and 12 weeks. But we each have our own milestones that we use. This morning’s usually mundane activity of brushing my teeth was a little more special than usual because I hit a milestone. Before I left, my mom packed me with ten toothbrushes. Being here for about 100 weeks (and since it is best to change brushes regularly), I get to use a new toothbrush every 10 weeks. I went into the reserves, cracked open my set of brushes, and enjoyed a new brush. It’s just a way to keep us sane.
Monday was an easy day for both Richie and me. We both gave exams, which meant that neither of us had to actually teach. It was time to see how much these kids learned or have not learned. But before we gave the tests, we had to actually write them out. While it rained and with the sunlight at a minimum, I wrote out my exams by candlelight on big paper.
Monday was a milestone day for another reason. It was Larium day, and Richie and I are both running low on Larium. Low enough that we need to text the medical office to send more. We get 10 or 12 pills per packet, so getting so close to the end of a packet is just another way to know time is passing.
Giving exams is boring and slow. A lot of the kids cheat in one way or another. There are a lot of shift eyes. But I think I was able to keep the standard cheat sheets down to a minimum. This test was pretty “un-cheat-sheet-able”; they either knew it or they didn’t.
After six periods of test giving, I set back to see the results. The range was huge: out of 20 points, at least one person received a three and there were a couple of 20s scattered in there. It was quickly apparent who came to class and who didn’t, who participated in class and who didn’t. On the whole though, the students did pretty well.
When the energy came on, another favor asked two favors of me: if I could teach a calculus lesson for his Physics class; and if I could type up an exam for him. The latter I could do with no problem. The former is going to be a challenge. First I have to brush up on my calculus. Then I have to actually understand what is going on in this all-Portuguese book. There’s no bullshitting around this language test. As I was trying to figure all of this out, my grandfather called. So there were three things going on in my head: speaking in English, reading in Portuguese, and doing math. My head nearly exploded.
I returned to the house to help Richie out with dinner. I had started preparing when his family called. Then he took over for a bit while I was talking, and then I took over again. The French toast we made was some of the best yet. And with our new stock of syrup, we were quite satisfied. We finished of a disc of “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” and went to bed.
For the last couple nights, it had been cool, and last night was no exception. Once again, we slept without sweating (at least while we were awake in bed), but we both woke up drowsy. Richie headed to the market while I typed up the teacher’s test and figured out the rest of the trimester.
Just before we started to cook up lunch, a man carrying shrimp came around. We knew that we were making spaghetti later, so we figured we would get some. The man told us that a plate was 20 metacais – about 80 cents. As he piled the shrimp onto this plate, I thought to myself “What would Forrest Gump do with all of this shrimp?” I think there was enough shrimp for the village. So we are now throwing shrimp in everything. We put it in our eggs for lunch, which was quite delicious. And it will go in the tomato sauce for dinner.
Classes went well today. I taught favorites to one set of twelfth graders while the other twelfth graders took an exam. My eleventh graders got the lesson on “should” and “ought to” that the twelfth graders got earlier in the trimester. It is apparent that the students are getting more and more comfortable, both with my teaching style and with the language. I returned home after teaching, graded the most recent set of tests, and started preparing for dinner.
In between grading and dinner, I talked to one of my students who helps some teachers at another house. I asked him if he knew any students who could help Richie and me around the house. We can do most everything here, but there are some things like deshelling shrimp and washing clothes that we just don’t want to do. The kid said that he would help out with another kid. Perfect.
Having shrimp in the pasta sauce was delicious. It was definitely a twist on what we are used to. We’ll probably have one more day until this shrimp goes bad – not having a refrigerator is kind of tough. But if we waste a little bit of shrimp, we are not going to cry over the 20 cents.
I slept through the night (I think we might finally be getting comfortable here), which including a massive storm. Richie said it happened around 5 or 5:30 but hell if I know; I was gone. I went outside and noticed that our buckets had been filled. I asked Richie if he put them out, and he said no. Curious, to say the least. Then the kid from last night came over, and I knew my answer. I told him that we didn’t need that much help, just with laundry and some other small things when needed.
It took two days, but I finally figured out how to get all of students learning the same amount of content for the trimester. It sounds like it shouldn’t be challenging, but I have four groups of eleventh graders, two of which started two weeks late. They meet five times per week. My twelfth graders meet three times a week, so I have to teach everything to them faster.
Luckily, the groups that started late are pretty quick learners. One group especially is really powering through the material. We were supposed to meet three times today, but we got everything done in two sessions. The last session is supposed to be the end of their day and the end of mine, so if we can cover everything, I’m happy to let them go early. Everybody wins.
I finally got my hands on the class lists for twelfth grade. Just before energy came on, I started popping the names into an Excel sheet. The twelfth graders did a nice job on the test. About 90 percent of them passed the test, which is definitely more than I expected. I am happily pleased. We will see soon if the eleventh graders are as good.
Richie took care of making our baby formula pancakes. We slightly altered the recipe and they came out pretty good. We watched a little “Scrubs” and went to bed.
I didn’t have a lot to do Thursday morning, and it was kind of nice. I was able to just sit back with no real obligations except for going to the market. That, however, proved to be amazing on this day. I went on the hunt for beer in preparation for the weekend and for making onion rings. What I stumbled upon shocked me: legitimately cold beer. I came back from the market as quickly as possible and I think Richie was as stunned as I was. We both knew exactly what we had to do. There is no reason to waste a cold beer.
We killed our beers and started preparing for lunch. Like I said, we didn’t have a lot to do. Mostly, we just waited out the clock until we could actually cook.
Classes went pretty well. My last class of the day meets for two consecutive periods, and thankfully they are a group of quick learners. I can usually get in all the material I need in one period instead of the two. It’s probably not the best thing to do, but considering they outperformed all the other classes on the exam, I’m okay with it.
As I started preparing dinner before, we received some mail. A big envelope had the words “Richie & Lee – Os Americanos, Machanga.” The person bringing the mail had no problem finding us. The only thing that would have made it better is if it had said “Os Muzungus.” I received four receipts for packages and a birthday card from my parents. They were prepared and sent a “Happy belated card,” but amazingly, it got here on time. I would have done the same thing.
After dinner, I was summoned into the computer lab again. Some people just needed some documents printed for Beira. I found out that people were heading to Beira over the weekend, which was good news. I sent the receipts with some money up with the people going to Beira. Hopefully I will receive those packages next week.
Richie and I knew we were in for a big day Friday. We were committed to going out to the villa for a drink or two with some colleagues. But first, I had to work. I read through the physical chemistry manual that the teacher had given me, but I wasn’t of much help. It has been a long time since I learned calculus, and differential equations weren’t exactly my strong suit.
I had four classes in the afternoon, all with my late-starting groups. Just like yesterday, I had a double class to end the day with a fast-learning group. I was able to get everything done in one period. Everybody was happy to leave early. Upon my return, I put in one last set of grades from exams. All of the classes performed with amazing consistency – an average of 13 out of 20, with 85 percent passing (passing here is 10 or more).
Then the drinking began. We had four beers left from yesterday’s beer run and we figured we could pregame before heading out. The idea would have been better if it wasn’t on an empty stomach. We started dinner only slightly buzzed, making decent pancakes and some pre-packaged pasta.
It was really nice to get out into the villa during the evening. It is a little surprising that it took us nearly 11 weeks to go out at night. Usually, by 9:30, we are exhausted. But with some liquid help, we made it until midnight. It was a pretty fun night. One of the teachers we went out with spoke decent English, so we kept bouncing in between languages. It was a good exchange of language.
All the fun from last night created a little bit of mayhem in the morning. I was up at 6 with a massive hangover. Richie says he woke up with his head on the floor. I don’t even know how that is possible. We were committed to going to Mambone, but we needed to recover first. We both went back to bed for a bit to fight the hangovers.
We kind of got our day going around 8:30. I cut up some onions and lit carvão to cook up some onion rings and eggs. All the batter on the onion rings definitely helped us. We were feeling a little better, but still exhausted. Once again, we were down for the count.
Take three. Finally, we were awake for good around 10. We were off to Mambone with a couple of other teachers and some students. The idea was to go drinking again, but Richie and I both thought it wouldn’t be a great idea.
Speaking of things that were not great ideas: following the teachers on a different path to Mambone was a terrible idea. One would think that they would know the best way to get to the river because they live here. We were wrong. At various points during the trek – and let me emphasize, this was a trek – we walked through disgusting water, ankle-deep mud, and scalding hot sand. Oh yea, and this path was much longer to the river. Terrible idea. We thought we had walked long enough that we were actually in Mambone. And then we hit the river. Terrible, terrible idea.
Once we were in Mambone, things were a little awkward. Some people – like us – went to buy things; others started drinking. After about an hour, we all settled at a bar. Richie and I chose not to drink. It was probably the best idea all day. Even being at the bar though was a little awkward. Everyone was speaking really quickly, sometimes not even in Portuguese, leaving Richie and I pretty much in the dark. We want on search of a hat for me, but I got massively sidetracked. I saw an old-school Latrell Sprewell Golden State Warriors jersey. For 150 meticais – 6 dollars – I had to buy it. I also got a pretty sweet England soccer jersey for the same price.
By the time we got back, people were ready to head back. The others wanted to go back the same way we came. We told them we would race them home. And in spite of sitting on the Mambone side of the river for 30 minutes waiting for a canoe, we still got home 20 minutes ahead of the others. We felt slightly redeemed.
Both Richie and I spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing. Richie napped until the energy came on. I cleaned up around the house and fashioned a rather excellent pants hanger out of a couple sticks and some wire. It was suffice until we can buy more hangers in Maputo.
Oh yes, Maputo. We have a meeting in Maputo the second week in March. We are already counting down the days. But between now and then, there is a birthday (mine) to celebrate, a visit from our program director, and a week’s worth of teaching.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Year 1 - Week 10: Big Rig Riding
The best way I can characterize my thoughts on the town of Mambone is that I have a love-hate relationship with it. I love that it is so close. I love that we can pretty much go at will, albeit it requires a lot of walking. I love that it pretty much has everything that Machanga doesn’t have. And at the same time, I hate Mambone for these exact reasons. Considering we were rained out yesterday, we were committed to going, rain or shine.
But before we left, I had some laundry to do. I have gone way too many weeks in a row without washing my sheets. It just seems like such a hopeless activity. They are drenched in sweat when I wake up and they are drenched in sweat when I go to bed at night, so what’s the point? And I have to say, as I washed my sheets, I could not believe the color that the water became. I would say it was a combination of brown, black and green.
It appeared to be a beautiful day. My sheets should have dried fast and we would have clear sailing to Mambone. Or not. As we were crossing the river – which appears to have filled out over the last couple of weeks – it started to rain. And when we walked from the river to the vila, it started to rain more. The sad thing is even when it’s raining, it’s always sunnier in Mambone.
We did our shopping, finding more things than we anticipated: tomatoes and bread which we expected, a new power outlet which we did not. And as if you needed to ask, yes, the bread was much better than anything that we could get here. By the time we finished our shopping, the rain was still going, so we decided to wait it out over cold beers, the real reason we go to Mambone. Don’t judge us for drinking at 9:30 AM. You would be too.
Our beers polished off, and the rain having come to halt, we made our way back across the river, and then from the river back to Machanga. We got back just in time to cook lunch, which was our regular potato pancakes and eggs.
I filled out the afternoon mostly with reading, with a brief intermission to put in the new power outlet. Now, I’m not exactly an electrical engineer, so either our power outlet was going to work, or the house was going to explode. To be honest, we would be okay with either. The energy came on, and with a stroke of luck, the outlet worked. Great success! We moved the stovetop, which had been in Richie’s room, back into the kitchen.
Also of note is I had another discussion with the assistant directors about my workload. With the splitting of the 11th grade classes, I now had 35 classes a week to teach, way more than I expected and more than Peace Corps expects of us. I told him I’d be happy to teach each of the classes, if we reduced 11th grade from five times per week to three, but that couldn’t be done. He promised that the situation would be resolved.
I made my now-famous garlic bread and tomato sauce and we dined like kings. As I was eating, my parents called. There are few things that can keep me from eating, but having family call is one of them. I had a good conversation with them. I was especially excited by the fact that they had already booked their tickets to visit.
The last thing my dad said on the phone was “Well, I hope the wind blows the right way for you.” And boy did it. Just before our power went out, a hurricane-like wind came through Machanga. And then the rain came. And then the cold came. It was glorious. For another night, I didn’t have to fall asleep sweating.
We woke up Monday to the Machanga that we were used to: hot as hell at 7 in the morning. Although we went to bed in the cold, we woke up in a sweat. Nothing new there. Being up early, we decided to once again be ambitious and do something different. We committed to making onion rings at 7:30 in the morning when I threw together the beer batter. The recipe called for one cup of beer, and there was a lot beer left, so there was no use in wasting it. A 7:30 beer will do a body good.
With nothing to do, I got back to work on “The World is Flat.” With this book, I have to stop every couple pages because what I read was just that mind-blowing. It got me to thinking about my own situation. I’m an American, sitting in Mozambique, speaking a language imported from Portugal, and listening to British music on my Chinese-built iPod while reading a book. Crazy world we live in.
The onion ring test passed with flying colors. Usually, the first time we make something, it is an epic failure. But not this time. They looked like and tasted like onion rings, which is half the battle, and they made us ridiculously full, which is the bigger, more important, other half of the battle. It’s a shame the recipe requires a lot of time. We might be working them into our weekend rotation, when we have more time.
Content from lunch, I went to work. Five classes in the afternoon isn’t so bad, especially with no classes in the morning. I think it is harder on the kids. These kids are up early because they don’t have much of a choice, but they don’t start classes until 12:30. That’s a rough gig. But it’s no excuse for sleeping in class. As some students were writing some examples on the board, I noticed that a kid had his head on his desk. I watched him as the students continued writing, and he didn’t budge. So when I needed another volunteer, I knew exactly who to go for. I threw the chalk at him, hitting him in the arm. He got up, picked up the chalk, wrote a sentence on the board, and then kept his head up for the rest of class. Lesson learned.
After one of my classes, the kid who picked up a magazine asked me a question about a phrase he read: “kind of.” This is one of the advantages of reading – he is going to see things that are both complex and rarely taught. I thought about it, and with some translation, explained that it can be used two ways. With an adjective, “kind of” means almost or somewhat. With a noun, it means a type. And then there is “kind” by itself as an adjective. He laughed, but I think he understood.
Upon my return from class, the assistant directors told me that I no longer had to teach 10th grade, just 11th and 12th grade. This isn’t quite the solution I was looking for, but I’ll take it. It cuts my class load from 35 per week to 26. It’s just a shame we couldn’t negotiate on how many times per week 11th grade had to meet. I would have been happy to keep 10th grade if we could cut the 11th grade classes to even four times per week instead of five.
At this point, it’s out of my control. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel some guilt. I feel bad for the teacher who has to cover it because I’m sure it is more work for him than it would have been for me. But I also feel bad for the 10th grade kids. They were getting a different kind of education from me. That’s not to say I’m some master educator. What I mean is this: we learned Portuguese in a couple of months because, for among other reasons, we learned it directly from Portuguese-speakers. These kids will not learn the language as well, just because it’s coming from a non-native, non-fluent speaker.
The afternoon was a little out of the ordinary. Richie and I threw around the Frisbee with some random kids. The picked it up pretty quickly. We didn’t have to prep much for dinner. We were out of food, so we turned to canned veggies and rice. We burnt the rice, and the veggies were not great, but it got us threw another meal. We capped the night with a couple episodes of “Scrubs.”
Up early on Tuesday, I committed myself to finishing my book. And by 9:30, I was finished with “The World is Flat.” I think I have read more books here in Machanga than I did in all of college. Then again, there were a lot more distractions in college. After finishing the book, I started cleaning up the house a bit. Richie went to our newest bakery, which is much closer to the market. He told me that the girl working at the bakery wants to marry him. This can’t be good for Richie.
After an average lunch, I prepared myself for five classes in the afternoon. I think on this day more than any, I had great participation. I didn’t have to wait for volunteers to come to board. And more importantly, the kids are no longer afraid to make mistakes and are learning from them. They know that I’m not going to crack them with a ruler if they screw up. And they have started correcting each other. For the most part, I don’t have to make the corrections anymore; I just tell them that there is a mistake and they are able to find it. They are making good progress.
With classes over, two of the kids in my twelfth grade class came to get magazines from me. They both already speak decent English – good enough that one of them said that they were “depending on me to help them pass the national exam.” That’s why I’m here.
I looked forward to having a bit of afternoon to myself. That dream died quickly when one of the other teachers came to the house with a friend. We had a full conversation in English, which was nice. It was good to hear that learning a language was hard, and that we already were speaking decently. The teacher’s friend wanted to have a conversation tomorrow, so I told him to come by between 8 and 11.
Richie had to take care of dinner tonight. One of the teachers needed some tech help. Okay, “some” may be an understatement. One of the computers wouldn’t load Windows. This is the second computer that has done this, and it’s nothing I had ever seen before. I tried reloading Windows, as instructed, but it wouldn’t let me. I guess that is the problem with technology. It’s great when it works, but when it’s not working, everything falls apart. And although I can work in Windows pretty well, I know nothing about curing viruses.
Done with my tech duties, I came home for dinner. Richie and I were both pretty exhausted and in need of a good laugh – in need of some absurd humor. We went back to “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.” After a couple of episodes, our electricity went out, and we shut ourselves down.
At 8:30, the teacher’s friend came over for another conversation in English. I was curious to know how he learned English so well. His story was inspiring. His family had a lot of financial problems, to the point where they were not able to pay for his schooling for a couple of years. In those years he committed to learning English. And with the help of some other Peace Corps Volunteers, his English became pretty good. I feel like his story really is really telling. There is nothing that can stop you if you have the personal drive. He knew that English could be an escape and it has landed him a job. Now he wants to take that skill and put it to use in an American university. That won’t be so easy.
We talked until about 11 AM, just in time to start preparing for lunch. I had another five classes in front of me. These classes were with the new 11th graders that I acquired. The first group were amazingly fast learners – one or two examples, and they had it nailed. I’m definitely putting them on the fast track. The second group was a little slower, but it’s not a problem. They will get up to speed in due time.
On my way to help on tech duty, again, one of my students stopped me and said “Good night, Mr. Lee.” I was happy to hear English, but saw a brief teaching opportunity present itself. I told the student that we use “good night” when someone is about to go to bed, but you can use “good evening” at any other point during the night. He asked three or four more questions, and then I had to go. But the point is this: in that five minutes, he probably learned more than he would in 20 minutes in class. It is something that is practical, tangible, and will be put to use many times over.
Another computer went down to the same virus, so I banned a couple of people from using their flash drives, which are likely the source of the problem. I hooked the printer into a new computer, helped out with some Excel trickery, and we were rolling again. It has been an interesting experience working in the computer lab. I feel like it has been mutually helpful. I have learned some computer vocabulary, and they have learned some Windows hints. I had about 30 minutes to relax before to power went out on another hot night.
Thursday stared out a little rough. Walking to the market, my iPod ran out of battery 100 yards outside of the school gate – lame. The store where we like to buy eggs, both for their size and price, was out of eggs. But that didn’t stop me from getting a delicious and over-priced orange juice. Two of our regular market mamas were also out of eggs, and the good bakery was out of bread. So I had to go to the other bakery with bad bread and worse eggs. Last time we got eggs from them, eight of the 12 were rotten. We didn’t have high hopes.
On this day, though, our luck turned around. I was able to get some work done in the morning, writing out an exam for next week. All of the eggs were good. We had a very easy time lighting charcoal. We made an early lunch with more eggs than usual. And then it was off to work.
I had another full load of classes this afternoon. I have really come to enjoy the moment as I walk toward classes. On the first day of classes, I told my students that I don’t like being called “teacher,” that they can call me Mr. Lee. Now, when I head to class, some students will say, “Oh, good aftanoon, Mista Lee, how ah you?” It quickly puts me in a good mood.
I spent some extra time with one of my new eleventh grade classes to help them catch up. The rest of my classes were reviews for exams. There will be nothing new on the exams, and it shouldn’t be a struggle, but I know it will be tough for some. I was also pleased that students were asking questions about things they didn’t understand. I am glad that they are asking questions now. They know that I am here to help them.
My last class finished early, so I had some extra time to relax. And then Richie put me to work. He wanted a haircut. Normally this would be a boring act. But when one muzungu is cutting another muzungu’s hair, well that’s a show. A group of about ten kids watched me cut Richie’s hair. Then it became the talk of the teachers. We had a decent conversation with our neighbors about this – strange what people want to talk about.
And then on came our energy. I knew that I was back on tech duty, but I wanted to eat first. With that simple phrase, I bought myself an extra 90 minutes. The spaghetti sauce was good and the garlic bread was better than usual in spite of the bad bread. Tech duty was only for thirty minutes tonight, so my sanity was spared for a bit.
Short on money, Richie and I headed out to Vilanculos early Friday morning. We hoped that there would be a direct chapa leaving from Mambone to Vilanculos, but it wasn’t meant to be. So we took a chapa to the EN1-Mambone crossroads and hoped for a ride. First, a bus stopped for us, and wanted a ridiculous 500 meticais to get to the Vilanculos crossroads. We laughed and waited for something else.
That something else happened to be an oversized truck carrying a crane. There wasn’t room in the truck, but there was a whole lot of room behind the cabin. And that’s how we got to Vilanculos – sitting under a crane on the back of a double-wide truck. It was a “This is our life” moment for Richie and me. We paid nothing for the glorious boleia from crossroads to crossroads, and then a simple 20 mets into Vilanculos.
We joined Greg, our Mambone neighbor in a paper store in Vilanculos to buy some monster paper for test-giving. He laughed at us – and our filthy faces – when we walked in the door. We headed over to Smuggler’s to try our luck with the wireless internet and get some food. Internet was down, but the cheeseburger was delicious. Then we tried the pizza place, which also has internet, but we had no luck – kind of a bummer. Before heading to a Volunteer’s house, we picked up some food for dinner.
It was a low-key evening. There were about 10 of us for dinner. We dined outside, overlooking the ocean on an absolutely beautiful night. Exhausted from the day’s travel, I went to bed pretty early. It was a long day, and tomorrow, we’re celebrating Mardi Gras.
We got a surprisingly late start with the partying. The morning, much like my time in Machanga, was all about food. We had a late pancake breakfast, and shortly after we had a delicious hot dog lunch. This was going to be an all-American day. After lunch, I headed into the villa to get a pair of shoes. I was on a mission to find some black dress sandals at a reasonable price, but the lowest I was offered was 350 meticais (about 14 dollars), far too much. I didn’t leave empty handed though – I got a pair of nice dark brown sandals for 250. I’ll have to wait until Maputo to find cheap black shoes.
By the time I got back, the party was about to begin. More people had arrived and the alcohol started rolling in. The amount of beer and liquor we had was borderline obnoxious, but we had a lot of making up to do.
It was a pretty ridiculous party. I played beer pong with a Volunteer from Oregon. We represented the west coast well, going undefeated over five games. By the end of the night, everyone knew that the west coast was the best coast. We ordered in pizza, which of course was delicious (although it did a job on my digestive system). By the end of the night, everyone was sufficiently drunk, with one person passing out outside the house. That’s how Mardi Gras should be. I would call that a successful weekend: great boleia, great party, great time.
Back to Machanga on Sunday.
But before we left, I had some laundry to do. I have gone way too many weeks in a row without washing my sheets. It just seems like such a hopeless activity. They are drenched in sweat when I wake up and they are drenched in sweat when I go to bed at night, so what’s the point? And I have to say, as I washed my sheets, I could not believe the color that the water became. I would say it was a combination of brown, black and green.
It appeared to be a beautiful day. My sheets should have dried fast and we would have clear sailing to Mambone. Or not. As we were crossing the river – which appears to have filled out over the last couple of weeks – it started to rain. And when we walked from the river to the vila, it started to rain more. The sad thing is even when it’s raining, it’s always sunnier in Mambone.
We did our shopping, finding more things than we anticipated: tomatoes and bread which we expected, a new power outlet which we did not. And as if you needed to ask, yes, the bread was much better than anything that we could get here. By the time we finished our shopping, the rain was still going, so we decided to wait it out over cold beers, the real reason we go to Mambone. Don’t judge us for drinking at 9:30 AM. You would be too.
Our beers polished off, and the rain having come to halt, we made our way back across the river, and then from the river back to Machanga. We got back just in time to cook lunch, which was our regular potato pancakes and eggs.
I filled out the afternoon mostly with reading, with a brief intermission to put in the new power outlet. Now, I’m not exactly an electrical engineer, so either our power outlet was going to work, or the house was going to explode. To be honest, we would be okay with either. The energy came on, and with a stroke of luck, the outlet worked. Great success! We moved the stovetop, which had been in Richie’s room, back into the kitchen.
Also of note is I had another discussion with the assistant directors about my workload. With the splitting of the 11th grade classes, I now had 35 classes a week to teach, way more than I expected and more than Peace Corps expects of us. I told him I’d be happy to teach each of the classes, if we reduced 11th grade from five times per week to three, but that couldn’t be done. He promised that the situation would be resolved.
I made my now-famous garlic bread and tomato sauce and we dined like kings. As I was eating, my parents called. There are few things that can keep me from eating, but having family call is one of them. I had a good conversation with them. I was especially excited by the fact that they had already booked their tickets to visit.
The last thing my dad said on the phone was “Well, I hope the wind blows the right way for you.” And boy did it. Just before our power went out, a hurricane-like wind came through Machanga. And then the rain came. And then the cold came. It was glorious. For another night, I didn’t have to fall asleep sweating.
We woke up Monday to the Machanga that we were used to: hot as hell at 7 in the morning. Although we went to bed in the cold, we woke up in a sweat. Nothing new there. Being up early, we decided to once again be ambitious and do something different. We committed to making onion rings at 7:30 in the morning when I threw together the beer batter. The recipe called for one cup of beer, and there was a lot beer left, so there was no use in wasting it. A 7:30 beer will do a body good.
With nothing to do, I got back to work on “The World is Flat.” With this book, I have to stop every couple pages because what I read was just that mind-blowing. It got me to thinking about my own situation. I’m an American, sitting in Mozambique, speaking a language imported from Portugal, and listening to British music on my Chinese-built iPod while reading a book. Crazy world we live in.
The onion ring test passed with flying colors. Usually, the first time we make something, it is an epic failure. But not this time. They looked like and tasted like onion rings, which is half the battle, and they made us ridiculously full, which is the bigger, more important, other half of the battle. It’s a shame the recipe requires a lot of time. We might be working them into our weekend rotation, when we have more time.
Content from lunch, I went to work. Five classes in the afternoon isn’t so bad, especially with no classes in the morning. I think it is harder on the kids. These kids are up early because they don’t have much of a choice, but they don’t start classes until 12:30. That’s a rough gig. But it’s no excuse for sleeping in class. As some students were writing some examples on the board, I noticed that a kid had his head on his desk. I watched him as the students continued writing, and he didn’t budge. So when I needed another volunteer, I knew exactly who to go for. I threw the chalk at him, hitting him in the arm. He got up, picked up the chalk, wrote a sentence on the board, and then kept his head up for the rest of class. Lesson learned.
After one of my classes, the kid who picked up a magazine asked me a question about a phrase he read: “kind of.” This is one of the advantages of reading – he is going to see things that are both complex and rarely taught. I thought about it, and with some translation, explained that it can be used two ways. With an adjective, “kind of” means almost or somewhat. With a noun, it means a type. And then there is “kind” by itself as an adjective. He laughed, but I think he understood.
Upon my return from class, the assistant directors told me that I no longer had to teach 10th grade, just 11th and 12th grade. This isn’t quite the solution I was looking for, but I’ll take it. It cuts my class load from 35 per week to 26. It’s just a shame we couldn’t negotiate on how many times per week 11th grade had to meet. I would have been happy to keep 10th grade if we could cut the 11th grade classes to even four times per week instead of five.
At this point, it’s out of my control. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel some guilt. I feel bad for the teacher who has to cover it because I’m sure it is more work for him than it would have been for me. But I also feel bad for the 10th grade kids. They were getting a different kind of education from me. That’s not to say I’m some master educator. What I mean is this: we learned Portuguese in a couple of months because, for among other reasons, we learned it directly from Portuguese-speakers. These kids will not learn the language as well, just because it’s coming from a non-native, non-fluent speaker.
The afternoon was a little out of the ordinary. Richie and I threw around the Frisbee with some random kids. The picked it up pretty quickly. We didn’t have to prep much for dinner. We were out of food, so we turned to canned veggies and rice. We burnt the rice, and the veggies were not great, but it got us threw another meal. We capped the night with a couple episodes of “Scrubs.”
Up early on Tuesday, I committed myself to finishing my book. And by 9:30, I was finished with “The World is Flat.” I think I have read more books here in Machanga than I did in all of college. Then again, there were a lot more distractions in college. After finishing the book, I started cleaning up the house a bit. Richie went to our newest bakery, which is much closer to the market. He told me that the girl working at the bakery wants to marry him. This can’t be good for Richie.
After an average lunch, I prepared myself for five classes in the afternoon. I think on this day more than any, I had great participation. I didn’t have to wait for volunteers to come to board. And more importantly, the kids are no longer afraid to make mistakes and are learning from them. They know that I’m not going to crack them with a ruler if they screw up. And they have started correcting each other. For the most part, I don’t have to make the corrections anymore; I just tell them that there is a mistake and they are able to find it. They are making good progress.
With classes over, two of the kids in my twelfth grade class came to get magazines from me. They both already speak decent English – good enough that one of them said that they were “depending on me to help them pass the national exam.” That’s why I’m here.
I looked forward to having a bit of afternoon to myself. That dream died quickly when one of the other teachers came to the house with a friend. We had a full conversation in English, which was nice. It was good to hear that learning a language was hard, and that we already were speaking decently. The teacher’s friend wanted to have a conversation tomorrow, so I told him to come by between 8 and 11.
Richie had to take care of dinner tonight. One of the teachers needed some tech help. Okay, “some” may be an understatement. One of the computers wouldn’t load Windows. This is the second computer that has done this, and it’s nothing I had ever seen before. I tried reloading Windows, as instructed, but it wouldn’t let me. I guess that is the problem with technology. It’s great when it works, but when it’s not working, everything falls apart. And although I can work in Windows pretty well, I know nothing about curing viruses.
Done with my tech duties, I came home for dinner. Richie and I were both pretty exhausted and in need of a good laugh – in need of some absurd humor. We went back to “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.” After a couple of episodes, our electricity went out, and we shut ourselves down.
At 8:30, the teacher’s friend came over for another conversation in English. I was curious to know how he learned English so well. His story was inspiring. His family had a lot of financial problems, to the point where they were not able to pay for his schooling for a couple of years. In those years he committed to learning English. And with the help of some other Peace Corps Volunteers, his English became pretty good. I feel like his story really is really telling. There is nothing that can stop you if you have the personal drive. He knew that English could be an escape and it has landed him a job. Now he wants to take that skill and put it to use in an American university. That won’t be so easy.
We talked until about 11 AM, just in time to start preparing for lunch. I had another five classes in front of me. These classes were with the new 11th graders that I acquired. The first group were amazingly fast learners – one or two examples, and they had it nailed. I’m definitely putting them on the fast track. The second group was a little slower, but it’s not a problem. They will get up to speed in due time.
On my way to help on tech duty, again, one of my students stopped me and said “Good night, Mr. Lee.” I was happy to hear English, but saw a brief teaching opportunity present itself. I told the student that we use “good night” when someone is about to go to bed, but you can use “good evening” at any other point during the night. He asked three or four more questions, and then I had to go. But the point is this: in that five minutes, he probably learned more than he would in 20 minutes in class. It is something that is practical, tangible, and will be put to use many times over.
Another computer went down to the same virus, so I banned a couple of people from using their flash drives, which are likely the source of the problem. I hooked the printer into a new computer, helped out with some Excel trickery, and we were rolling again. It has been an interesting experience working in the computer lab. I feel like it has been mutually helpful. I have learned some computer vocabulary, and they have learned some Windows hints. I had about 30 minutes to relax before to power went out on another hot night.
Thursday stared out a little rough. Walking to the market, my iPod ran out of battery 100 yards outside of the school gate – lame. The store where we like to buy eggs, both for their size and price, was out of eggs. But that didn’t stop me from getting a delicious and over-priced orange juice. Two of our regular market mamas were also out of eggs, and the good bakery was out of bread. So I had to go to the other bakery with bad bread and worse eggs. Last time we got eggs from them, eight of the 12 were rotten. We didn’t have high hopes.
On this day, though, our luck turned around. I was able to get some work done in the morning, writing out an exam for next week. All of the eggs were good. We had a very easy time lighting charcoal. We made an early lunch with more eggs than usual. And then it was off to work.
I had another full load of classes this afternoon. I have really come to enjoy the moment as I walk toward classes. On the first day of classes, I told my students that I don’t like being called “teacher,” that they can call me Mr. Lee. Now, when I head to class, some students will say, “Oh, good aftanoon, Mista Lee, how ah you?” It quickly puts me in a good mood.
I spent some extra time with one of my new eleventh grade classes to help them catch up. The rest of my classes were reviews for exams. There will be nothing new on the exams, and it shouldn’t be a struggle, but I know it will be tough for some. I was also pleased that students were asking questions about things they didn’t understand. I am glad that they are asking questions now. They know that I am here to help them.
My last class finished early, so I had some extra time to relax. And then Richie put me to work. He wanted a haircut. Normally this would be a boring act. But when one muzungu is cutting another muzungu’s hair, well that’s a show. A group of about ten kids watched me cut Richie’s hair. Then it became the talk of the teachers. We had a decent conversation with our neighbors about this – strange what people want to talk about.
And then on came our energy. I knew that I was back on tech duty, but I wanted to eat first. With that simple phrase, I bought myself an extra 90 minutes. The spaghetti sauce was good and the garlic bread was better than usual in spite of the bad bread. Tech duty was only for thirty minutes tonight, so my sanity was spared for a bit.
Short on money, Richie and I headed out to Vilanculos early Friday morning. We hoped that there would be a direct chapa leaving from Mambone to Vilanculos, but it wasn’t meant to be. So we took a chapa to the EN1-Mambone crossroads and hoped for a ride. First, a bus stopped for us, and wanted a ridiculous 500 meticais to get to the Vilanculos crossroads. We laughed and waited for something else.
That something else happened to be an oversized truck carrying a crane. There wasn’t room in the truck, but there was a whole lot of room behind the cabin. And that’s how we got to Vilanculos – sitting under a crane on the back of a double-wide truck. It was a “This is our life” moment for Richie and me. We paid nothing for the glorious boleia from crossroads to crossroads, and then a simple 20 mets into Vilanculos.
We joined Greg, our Mambone neighbor in a paper store in Vilanculos to buy some monster paper for test-giving. He laughed at us – and our filthy faces – when we walked in the door. We headed over to Smuggler’s to try our luck with the wireless internet and get some food. Internet was down, but the cheeseburger was delicious. Then we tried the pizza place, which also has internet, but we had no luck – kind of a bummer. Before heading to a Volunteer’s house, we picked up some food for dinner.
It was a low-key evening. There were about 10 of us for dinner. We dined outside, overlooking the ocean on an absolutely beautiful night. Exhausted from the day’s travel, I went to bed pretty early. It was a long day, and tomorrow, we’re celebrating Mardi Gras.
We got a surprisingly late start with the partying. The morning, much like my time in Machanga, was all about food. We had a late pancake breakfast, and shortly after we had a delicious hot dog lunch. This was going to be an all-American day. After lunch, I headed into the villa to get a pair of shoes. I was on a mission to find some black dress sandals at a reasonable price, but the lowest I was offered was 350 meticais (about 14 dollars), far too much. I didn’t leave empty handed though – I got a pair of nice dark brown sandals for 250. I’ll have to wait until Maputo to find cheap black shoes.
By the time I got back, the party was about to begin. More people had arrived and the alcohol started rolling in. The amount of beer and liquor we had was borderline obnoxious, but we had a lot of making up to do.
It was a pretty ridiculous party. I played beer pong with a Volunteer from Oregon. We represented the west coast well, going undefeated over five games. By the end of the night, everyone knew that the west coast was the best coast. We ordered in pizza, which of course was delicious (although it did a job on my digestive system). By the end of the night, everyone was sufficiently drunk, with one person passing out outside the house. That’s how Mardi Gras should be. I would call that a successful weekend: great boleia, great party, great time.
Back to Machanga on Sunday.
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