Sometimes just living is enough.

In contrast to the United States, just living normal everyday life in Mozambique can be challenging. That’s why we have adopted a saying in our house, “Sometimes just living is enough”. We often remind each other of this when one of us becomes frustrated with the way things are or concerned about not being able reach our goals. It means for us to remember that with so many unfamiliar things happening moment to moment, that when we lay down at night we always feel satisfied and content. Inevitably we will have learned a great deal about ourselves and shared in something amazing with someone else. We are beginning to understand why this experience is so fulfilling but all the same find it hard to describe to friends and family back home that life has indeed changed:

“…We awoke early in the morning, although not earlier than usual, because in Mozambique when the sunrises the world wakes up and it is difficult to sleep when women are pounding mandioc root, pumping water and a herd of goats are grazing in the field behind your casa. There was a shortage of natural gas in Mozambique, so we had been cooking with charcoal. I lit the fire to begin breakfast and started heating water, as Laurie walked outside to gather some freshly fallen mangoes that had inevitably hit the metal roof the night before. I sipped on some freshly made coffee, while Laurie made pancakes with mango syrup. Later that morning we mixed the rest of the boiling water that had been stored in a thermos with cool water pumped from the well and took a bucket bath…”

“…The mission of Mapinhane was empty, there was not a teacher or student in sight. It was our first week here and everyone had left for summer vacation. Laurie and I were feeling a little lonely. Living at the mission school during break was hard, the dormitory style bathroom had not been cleaned in weeks and there was a mountain of bat guano in one of the showers in the women’s room, needless to say during that time we never liked to go into the bathrooms, especially after dark. We learned that lesson on our first night in Mapinhane, when Laurie screaming, came running into the house with a towel half draped over her body, still wet from her shower. I went to investigate what could have disturbed her so much only to be forced to duck and just miss a fruit bat.
The day before we had handwashed our clothes, finished cleaning the house, and carted agua from the well behind our house. This took most of the day and we were looking forward to some much-needed time to relax. There was a knock at our door, and one of our directors, stopped by to see how we were doing, he handed me a large fish and some bread and said in English with a Mozambican accent, “This is for you. ”
“Thank you, really but we can’t accept this.” I replied.
“No, take it, please. Oh yes, and I think that I will be eating lunch with you today. My empragada (Portuguese name for a worker) did not show up today and I have a lot of work to do and the school is quiet today, so I will be eating lunch with you.” Or in other words you are making my lunch.
Having never prepared fresh fish and seeing our relaxing day disappear before my eyes, I said “But I do not know how to prepare fish the Mozambican way.”
“Just prepare it, how you prepare it.” He said as he stepped off our veranda and hurriedly walked away.
And thus I learned how to descale, gut, behead a fish, that would later be mixed in with coconut curry and served with rice. It was a fantastic lunch, and we enjoyed the company of our guest…”

“…It was another hot, humid day in Mapinhane. One of those days that made us fantasize about the snow that was falling in the United States only a hemisphere away. Our friendly neighbor and colleague, Roberto the professor de geografia, walked outside and I went to greet him. “Roberto.” I said mispronouncing his name with an English accent.
“It is RO-berto.” He said in English annunciating the accent on the first syllable.
“I am sorry, it is difficult for me to pronounce Portuguese words, the accentos are new to me.” I replied in Portuguese.
“Yes, but Roberto, it is easy.”
I then attempted to pronounce the names of all of the teachers that live at the school. “And you live with?” I asked questioningly.
“Professor Pelembe (pronounced Pelembay), or Moseis. Pelembe is his traditional name of mother’s tongue, Chitswa.”
“A traditional name? Yes, it is very beautiful. I want a traditional name.”
His eyes widened, “Can I pick one for you.”
“Yes, please.” We both thought for a moment. “What is the word for lion.” I asked.
“N’gon-ya-mo.” He replied annunciating it slowly. “Mr. N’gonyamo, that is your traditional name.”
Later that week at the end of our first teachers meeting that should have happened before school started, two weeks ago (this is another story altogether). I was asked to introduce myself and I did so as Christopher, and followed it up with my traditional name N’gonyamo. I received many laughs, applause and cheers. It felt good.
Since then, the name has caught on some. When Laurie and I take the almost daily walk down to the market to buy food, mostly fresh vegetables and fruits. We are often greeted by students as Teacher Laurie and Teach Ngonyamo…”