Random Rants and Raves

I’ve been debating which epic idea to write about today. “Should I share successful and failed lessons in the classroom? Or details about our house in Mapinhane? Or what about how a foreigner can gain street cred in Mozambique?” But then I decided it would be fun just to write a very informal post about what we’ve been up to these last couple of weeks. You know, the random rants and raves I would normally send to my buddy’s inbox instead of in my blog. But sometimes trying to create a well-constructed narrative with a clear theme and strong ending isn’t as much fun as sending an update to a friend:

Hi Blog Reader!

What’s new? How are you? Was the summer Olympics everything you hoped they would be?

Things are still going well! This past weekend we wanted some beach time so we relaxed at our friend TJ’s site in Inhassoro. She lives a stone’s throw away from the Indian Ocean in a place with electricity, running water and a few decent restaurants for the tourists. It’s basically a smaller Vilankulos. We laid out on the beach, watched movies and cooked fantastic meals with her and Zack, another Moz 17er friend who lives there. It’s a nice quick trip when we want a break from our site. We were told numerous times in training that every site will have challenges and benefits, but every PCV will find a way to make it work for them. Now that we’ve visited a fair share of our friend’s places, we see how true this is. While TJ may have the obvious comfortable amenities, she struggles with other things that we do not in Mapinhane and vice versa.

We started the third trimester of school about 4 weeks ago and I thought this final trimester was going to be quick and painless, but it’s proven to be otherwise. The students are starting to become restless as their summer vacation approaches. Things like going to class when the bell rings, and not talking when the teacher is talking, and having an attention span of more than 5 minutes have very little significance now.  But I have to admit that I’m getting restless too. My patience in the classroom has diminished and I find lesson planning is like pulling teeth lately.  In the first two trimesters I was really motivated to lesson plan but now for some reason every time I sit down to figure out what I’m going to teach for the week, I’d rather read my US Magazine. Or stare at the ceiling.  I’m looking forward to next year when I will not have to lesson plan at all because I’ll be using what I created this year. But in the meantime, I’ve gotta get the lazy devil off my shoulder since I have about 8 more weeks of school to plan. But school is certainly not all bad. I still have many moments where I feel an overwhelming sense of fulfillment, especially now when I can clearly see an improvement in my students English from the beginning of the year. That feeling just goes away quicker than it used to when a student wants to act a fool.

Chris and I are both still trying to get projects moving outside of the classroom. Chris has a JUNTOS group, which is a youth group for kids who want to get involved in the arts. His group does music, and is composed of singers, a rapper, guitar players and a drummer. The kids are really motivated and the music is actually quite good too! He took them to a conference at the beginning of the month to meet with other JUNTOS groups in the region to perform their music and learn about life skills and HIV. I tagged along to help out Chris and the other PCVs at the conference. Actually, I’ve been a tagalong for a few of these things now. Our friends planned a REDES (girls clubs) retreat for their groups and Chris and I were visiting that weekend so we helped facilitate that as well.  And it looks like I will be a secondary project groupie again when I accompany Chris to the regional science fair he is coordinating next month. These are great experiences for me because I got to see how these types of conferences are organized and executed. I initially thought there was no way I could handle putting together the logistics, but I realize it’s doable.  And I won’t be a groupie for long since I will be taking my own REDES girls to a retreat in October and have signed up to take a group of my students to the English theater competition in September. Unfortunately, I have been slacking a bit with my Books for Africa project which is where I go and read to the kids at the elementary school, but I definitely want to get back into it. I realized that this first year I have sort of been throwing everything at the wall to see what sticks as far as secondary projects are concerned, then next year I plan to only focus on what actually stuck. I’m also hoping to focus on some internal Peace Corps initiatives. I am the VAC (Volunteer Action Committee) representative for the South region for my training class, Moz 17. The VAC meets periodically with Peace Corps staff to share questions and concerns of the volunteers and provides information to fellow PCVs in the region. I plan to get further involved in VAC projects next year. And, I’d like to be a support for the new incoming volunteers with formal training and as a peer resource.  Geesh, lots of ideas in my head for 2013, but the whole no lesson planning next year thing will come in handy when I’m trying to branch out from school activities. It’s awesome now that I can see a vision for my second year of service. Actually, I think that’s where some of my restlessness in the classroom is coming from. I’m excited to start a new next year with a clearer direction but I need to get through this trimester first!

In other news, it’s finally starting to warm up again after feeling like the cold winter was going to be here forever. We are now officially 83 year-old Floridians as anything less than 60 degrees is ungodly cold. So I’m looking forward to sweating again for now. But ask me how I feel about this in January and I will probably curse the days when I wished for summer. And the warmer weather also means the bichos (bugs) have started to come back again. Scorpions and spiders galore! Whoo hoo! But I must say that I have really improved in my tolerance for nasty things, bugs and more. I’ve come a long way from that pampered gal in the cozy suburbs of Cleveland. PC living does not come as naturally to me as some others, but somehow I think I’ve found my way.

Ok, I think that’s all for now. Hope all is well. Talk to you soon!

XO

Laurie :)

PS: Let me know if you’d actually be interested in reading about the blog ideas I mentioned at the beginning of this post. Or, if there is any topic you’re interested in hearing about for that matter. I’d be happy to blog it up for you!

The Birthplace Pilgrimage

After a 2,068 kilometer trip which included every type of ground transportation imaginable, crossing through ghost-town country border posts, and kids puking near or on us, we think we’ve officially earned our “experienced traveler” gold stars. Here’s the summary of our amazing journey into Malawi and back:

The trek began with a trip to Chimoio, a larger city in the central region of Mozambique, where we attended the Project Design Management Conference. The conference gave us great information on how to implement a project within our communities and the opportunity to bring along Mozambican counterparts for the sustainability factor. It was a great few days with lots of food, hot showers, and time with our PCV and Mozambican friends. After the conference, we still had over a week until the third trimester of school started so we figured it would be a great time to travel. We have a laundry list of places we want to go during our time here in Mozambique. Like most PCVs, we’re hoping to take advantage of our proximity to awesome locations and the free time we have to travel since we may not have the opportunity to see some of these places again.  Malawi, where Chris was born, was one of the highest on our list. Chris’ parents, Steve and Karen, were also Peace Corps Volunteers back in the early 80s and served at a time when PC was allowing families to join (this is no longer the case). So Steve and Karen took their two-year-old son Peter along to Nsanje, Malawi and Chris was born a year into their service and lived there until they returned to the States two years later. Chris has no memory of his time there but of course, he has always hoped to go back and visit. When PC placed us in Mozambique, we knew we would have to make the trip because it’s a neighboring country. Since we were already headed that way when we reached Chimoio, we decided to continue north for a Malawian adventure. We weren’t exactly sure how we would accomplish this but we’ve gotten used to the whole figure it out as you go travel thing as that is really the only option we have here.

Our first step was finding a way to Zoube, the Mozambican border town and one of the more popular places to cross into Malawi. We woke up in the middle of the night to catch a bus out of Chimoio into Tete City, about 2 hours away from the border. The 5 hour bus ride was pretty uneventful so we were hoping the travel gods would be with us that day but no, our trip was not so easy. We hopped on a Chapa (mini bus) shortly after reaching Tete City, happy that we were getting so close. And 5 minutes later, the thing rolled to a stop and died. We quickly found another chapa heading in the right direction and began to ascend the hills into Zoube. We were joined by a few very nice Malawians (which would turn out to be a theme for the trip) and a very annoying drunk one, but all in all, things were looking good again. And then the thing rolled to a stop and died. Twice. So the second time, only mere minutes away from our destination, it was time to find another ride.  After about an hour of waiting, we piled our hot, tired, sweaty selves into the back of a truck and were taken only a few kilometers up the road as the truck was going to a town in a different direction. Then finally, one more truck ride and we reached the border where we got our passports stamped in both countries and were finally standing on Malawi soil. One more short car ride and we had finally reached a place where we could find chapas into Blantyre, one of Malawi’s biggest cities. The 2 hour ride into Blantyre was exciting as we ooh’d and ahh’d at the new sites of Malawi and sampled the interesting new street food of baby parrot and other mystery meat (well, only Chris did that part). We were joined by an incredibly helpful Malawian man who had been with us since our ride from Tete City. He walked us through the border posts, showed us where to find transportation to Blantyre and gave us directions to our hostel. By the time we reached our hostel, it was dark but we wanted to get a move on making plans for the next day. Our initial goal was to see Lake Malawi, one of the most beautiful lakes in the world, and of course, Nsanje, where Chris was born. Against our better judgment we decided to walk down to the transportation terminal to see what our options were. We had a slight scare with a seemingly friendly Rastafarian dude who said he was going to help us, but wouldn’t leave us alone after we realized he was a bit sketchy. We tried to get away from him but he kept following until eventually, a helpful bystander helped us shoo him away and some other Rastafarian guy eventually grabbed him but not before he yelled out a few threats. Ughh. Nothing further happened but it was a bit jarring and at the moment, we also realized how much we had adapted to Mozambique. We let our guard down a bit because in Malawi they speak our native language English, but that doesn’t mean you necessarily understand a place or culture. Meanwhile, We grabbed dinner and headed back to our room where we decided it was best to wait until morning to figure out our next move. The following day, after talking to a few people at the chapa terminal and looking at a map, we realized it was going to be too difficult to do both Lake Malawi and Nsanje as they were in opposite directions. There was no way we’d have time to do both so we had to choose only one. Lake Malawi would have been the easier choice as there was tons more transportation options there and we knew we could easily get back to Blantyre and head back into Mozambique the same way we came. But, seeing Chris’ birthplace and his parents PC site was just too once in a lifetime to pass up and besides, we are lucky to live next to some of the most beautiful beaches in the world so we could do the beach thing back in Mozambique.  We knew this would definitely be the path less traveled as no one gave us a straight answer on how long it would take to get to Nsanje and we couldn’t find anyone (PCV, Mozambican or Malawian) who had used the southern border post closest to Nsanje, making it difficult to know if we could successfully cross back to Mozambique from there. But we had faith we would somehow figure it out or if worse came to worse, we could go back to Blantyre and make it home the familiar way.

So we jumped on a chapa headed for Nsanje and watched as the road became more desolate the further we went outside of Blantyre. Anticipation and excitement swept over us as the small white sign saying “Nsanje” finally came into view. Chris, who had been telling everyone on the chapa that this was where he was born, even showing the place of birth section on his passport to prove it, grew especially gitty to have finally reached this place he had not remembered but still felt like a home. We put our stuff down in Nsanje’s biggest guesthouse (Still a small motel by US standards) and began to walk into town. We were struck by the beautiful scenery and surprised to see how built up it was with paved roads, schools, hospitals, restaurants and guesthouses and signs noting all the foreign aid that had been there to help. Malawi, in general, seems to have a much better infrastructure than Mozambique which is something we were surprised to find throughout the trip but of course it makes sense as Mozambique is still newly recovering from a 20 year civil war. And, then again, when Steve and Karen were there 30 years ago, it certainly didn’t look the way it does now. In fact, they no longer have PCVs there since there are many other smaller, less developed places in Malawi that need volunteers. After taking a quick stroll through the market, we found a cute little restaurant serving your standard rice and beans and decided to get dinner. Here is where we met Mr. Mike, the man who helped us figure out the rest of our trip through Malawi. Mr. Mike, the owner of the joint, sat down to have a chat with us. We learned that his wife had remembered serving Chris’ father when he made the trip there in 2007, that it was actually possible to make it across to the southern border post and that 2 PCVs lived in villages close by. After dinner, we walked back to our hotel with the backdrop of a beautiful sunset and decided we would venture to the hospital the next day. The Nsanje hospital was where all the major stuff happened: Chris’ Dad was a doctor there during his PC service, they lived in a home on the hospital grounds and, Chris was born in the maternity ward. We walked in that morning feeling a little apprehensive as we took pictures and treaded around the campus. This was a hospital after all where life or death really does occur so we didn’t want to interrupt anything or bother anybody. We almost left without speaking to anyone but Chris decided that he wanted to go into the administration building just to see if anyone remembered him or his father. We spoke to the secretary who greeting us with a huge smile after Chris explained why we were there, she happily said she’d like to take us on a tour and show us the maternity ward where he was born. We walked through the corridors, many expanded since Steve was a doctor there 30 years ago, and saw all the areas of the hospital including the very same maternity ward where Chris was born (**Side Note: Rock on Karen, for giving birth in a developing country! You’re awesome!) Throughout the tour we met people who had known Chris and his family back in the 80s and some who had worked with his father when he returned in 2007. One man, Catindica, said he remembers holding Chris as a baby and told us that Steve used to climb up the water tower with Chris on his back, which sounds a little crazy and exactly like something Steve would do! Then Catindica showed us that water tower, and even more amazingly, the house where Chris and his family lived for the three years they were in Malawi.  The picture I had seen of Chris thousands of times, as a two-year-old adorable child with blue overalls and his feet in the African sand was finally coming to life. It was an amazing thing to weave together a family portrait while standing on the other side of the world.  We left with huge smiles on our faces and feeling like we had a better understanding of the life of baby Chris.  After the hospital visit, it was time to start the very long journey towards home. We had called Neil, the PCV who lives close by, and he said he would be happy to have us spend the night at his place since he lived close to the border and could help us find contacts that had crossed over to Mozambique. The only issue was that transportation was scarce to his place but luckly, our dude, Mr. Mike, found us a ride to Ntowe, Neil’s village, from one of his restaurant patrons. We jumped in the back of the open bed truck and sat on comfy rice bags as we made our way to Ntowe. The weather was perfect for a truck ride and we watched the mountains whiz by, content with the birthplace pilgrimage we just completed. We made it to Ntowe and spent the night with Neil and another Malawi PCV, Kendal, who lives in a village close by. They made a great dinner and we enjoyed swapping PC stories from different countries. It was a lovely way to spend our last evening in Malawi. During our time with Neil we met Lampson, a Malawian friend of his, who said he could guide us through getting back to Mozambique as he had frequently visited friends there. The next morning we took the only transportation available, bicycle taxis, down to the border post which involved straddling a small cushion over the back wheel and hoping the bike rider could balance us and our oversized backpacks. We made it without a fall, so clearly they had some practice. The villages on both sides looked like deserted towns out of a horror movie as this is not a popular place to cross the border so we were really glad to have Lampson show us the way. Our passports were stamped on both the Malawian and Mozambican side just as they were when we came in and with little fanfare, we were back in Mozambique. Lampson had a buddy who made a daily drive from the border to the next biggest town, Sena, and had let him know we’d be coming. We sat in the front seat of his truck as he flew like a bat out of hell up and down rocky, unpaved roads for two hours. After almost having my first bout of car sickness, we made it to a small town where we needed to cross a 7 kilometer bridge over the Zambezi River to get to Sena. Our options were to walk or take a bike taxi just as we had in Malawi, so we straddled those cushions like we were experts now that we’d seen this type of transport. We biked over the bridge, my face at the exact height of the riders smelly armpits, but it was still awesome to be crossing over a river on bike taxi, especially when we spotted hippos in the water. In Sena, we met Lampson’s friend who told us how to get to Caia, an even larger town with access to transportation all over the country and the place where we thought we’d reach the final leg of our journey. We said goodbye to our trusty guide Lampson and took another truck ride to Caia. After the car was pushed to a start, we sat in the front seat of the crammed rickety truck with a plastic bag containing animal intestines below our feet (the driver’s dinner, I guess). We looked out the broken window at parts of Mozambique we had never seen, feeling accomplished about how much we managed to travel. We had hoped to reach Caia in time to get a ride to Inchope, a place we were familiar with and knew would find transportation to get us back home to Mapinhane. But, we didn’t make it to Caia until late in the afternoon so we decided to stay in the hotel there, and finish the trip in the morning. We enjoyed our last night of the trip by taking advantage of the electricity and running water, then woke up to make the final ride home. We waited for 2 hours in the hope of finding something directly to our house, but it wasn’t happening so we finally got into a chapa and squished ourselves up against a family traveling with 4 kids. We had heard the ride was only an hour or two so we thought it would be no big deal as we’ve had plenty of practice with uncomfortable rides over the past 10 months. Unfortunately, 2 hours was actually 5 and a half, the kid in front of me puked all over the father’s lap she was sitting on and my shoe, and our limbs were reduced to complete numbness by the end of the ride. Not to mention crying babies and getting sneezed on frequently. Oy, it was one of our worst chapa experiences we’ve had but we finally arrived in Inchope where the transportation gods were smiling upon us again and we quickly hitched a ride with a hotel owner in his private Land Rover on his way to Vilanculos. He dropped us off in Pambarra, about 25 kilometers North of Mapinhane and we were almost home! We didn’t wait long before a truck came by and brought us to our doorstep around 8:30 that evening.

We slept like rocks that night and woke up in the morning revitalized and happy to be back, ready for the beginning of trimester three, our final trimester of this school year. While the trip was nothing short of amazing and we’ll be talking about these adventures for the rest of our lives, it’s great to be back in Mozambique. Even though they don’t speak English, we have no electricity and neither of us were born here, it still feels like home.

Culinary Adventures in Africa

“Wait, I’m moving to Africa, so I guess this means I won’t be able to have things like pizza and cinnamon rolls and chocolate”, I thought as I pondered my dietary options in Mozambique. The stereotypical images of a skinny Peace Corps volunteer, depriving their taste buds by eating beans and rice for two years straight was what came to mind. In actuality, just this weekend I ate pizza and cinnamon rolls and chocolate, oh my!

Already during training, I started to realize that eating here would not be nearly as much of a struggle as I had imagined.  Our Mozambican host family, who was responsible for feeding us three meals a day, had a steady supply of peanut butter and regularly provided chicken, rice, vegetables and fruit, bread and eggs. We learned that Mozambique’s climate allowed for a large assortment of tasty fruits and vegetables, grocery stores existed in bigger cities, and that many volunteers used an electric stove and portable oven for cooking. And, we received “You Can Make it in Mozambique”, a cookbook written by previous volunteers full of awesome Mozambican appropriate recipes. “I can make this food thing work!”, I thought. “See ya later beans and rice!”

…And then we got our placement in Mapinhane where the electricity was supposed to be on for two hours a night, but that never actually happened. So, how was I to live out my dreams of good eating in a village with no electricity and a tiny market? A gas stove, charcoal grill, Dutch oven and a weekly trip to the town of Vilanculos is how! I’ve learned that a gas tank attached to burners works quite well, we’ve found the tricks for starting a fire on charcoal and Dutch oven-ing is actually quite easy as it only involves putting a smaller pot inside of a bigger pot over flames. Electricity is definitely not a prerequisite for good cooking options. You might think a glaring issue would be life without a fridge, but you learn that many things last longer on the shelf then the “refrigerate after opening” label would have you believe. Sure, it would be nice to pull a cold drink out once in a while, but that’s a reason to go to Vilanculos! Thanks to South African tourists, this town with power lines is stocked with an array of delicious ingredients in their small grocery stores, and is only an hour chapa ride away. While we can get some basic fruits, veggies and cooking supplies in Mapinhane, Vilanculos is where we find our treasures like cheese. But I would be remiss to not give a shout out to all of the wonderful people who send us care packages as well. The regular influx of spices and candy certainly help in our quest for deliciousness!

So what is it that I make in my powerless kitchen?  On Thursday, I busted out flour, cinnamon, sugar and raisins to Dutch oven some tasty cinnamon rolls. Last night, we made fresh pizza dough, sauce, grated some mozzarella, and cut veggies for homemade pizza. I’ve made pasta salads, homemade mashed potatoes, and brownies. Usually, I make my spicy vegetable coconut curry once a week and a special breakfast on Sunday mornings with cinnamon French toast or banana pancakes. By the way, our daily breakfast consists of powdered milk and cornflakes, something else I thought I would never be able to eat here! The majority of what I cook has to be made from scratch. Of course, part of this is out of necessity as there is little accessibility to things with the word “instant” on the package. But, one of the many benefits to the slower pace of life here is that I have time to experiment with cooking and realize I actually enjoy making things that don’t come out of a box.  At home, I would squeeze in cooking somewhere in my 40 hour work week and it often involved using less ingredients than I can count on one hand. I felt like I just had too much going on to test my culinary skills, and restaurants were always such an easy second option for dinner. Here, I generally take off from cooking only one night a week when we ask our epregada (hired household chore helper), Catarina, to cook up the delicious traditional Mozambican dishes I have not yet mastered (I could probably write a whole blog on traditional Mozambican dishes but we’ll save that for another time!). Anyway, I definitely plan to take my new found love for cooking from scratch, and that handy cookbook, back to the States.

Now don’t get more wrong, we are not in the amazing food mecca of the United States of America so there are things I still miss dearly. One of the first things I want to eat when I get back is a good cheeseburger as you just can’t find one here! And a fresh, hot bagel with cream cheese.  And blueberries, oh how I miss blueberries!!! And, we miss going to restaurants. Going out to eat was always a fun, relaxing treat for Chris and I and we did if often. Here, there is little variety of food at restaurants, the service leaves much to be desired (i.e. customer service does not exist here) and let’s be real, a Peace Corps volunteer’s living allowance does not really allow for regular nights out on the town. So when groups of us volunteers get together, it’s not uncommon to engage in what we call “food porn”. Discussions of things like chipotle burritos, Dairy Queen cones dipped in chocolate or filet mignon.  But I still laugh to myself when I think of how bad my food situation could have been.  I mean, I love the occasional beans and rice but man I am glad that it only has to be occasional!