A Fine Line

Back home in the west, we human beings are able to cocoon ourselves into the delusion that we run the show. It’s not so here. Life and death are something that can be separated in America and the West. Life is what you are doing now; death is something that happens many years in the future. In the west if a child or even someone my age dies, it’s a tragedy. There’s “national morning”, a scholarship fund set up and the person gets talked about for years. It’s something that “never should have happened” or the person “died too young.” Here in Africa that is completely different. I can only speak about Mozambique but this line of life and death is just so different. Life and death walk hand and hand. Death can occur on so many levels in so many ways. It just sneaks up on you and hits you hard. Death is not something that is expected as it is in the west. It happens everyday and the people here deal with it and move on. It occurs on a regular basis and that can’t be stopped so it’s not a tragedy when someone “dies too young” because there never is a too young.

I’m writing this because of what has happened in the past 24 hours. I get a phone call from a boy I’ve befriended over the years, he stands on a corner in town and sells cashews. His English name is James and he’s been so friendly to me over the years. He’s in a family business too. He and his brother have been selling cashews on this corner for years. Everybody knows them, the tourists trust them and the cashews are delicious. That is why I was absolutely heartbroken to hear that James was in the hospital with his brother Pascoal last night. He was just walking home from the city and went to cross the road. He didn’t see a car coming around the bend and got hit hard by it. James seemed pretty upbeat last night. After all, they were at the best hospital in the region. I then remembered that we are in the poorest province of one of the poorest countries in the world. A friend of mine had worked at this hospital for a little over a year and she said that sometimes the hospital didn’t have any aspirin to give birthing mothers. Basically he was in trouble any way you looked at it. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get to the hospital as transport was not running but there is another volunteer who lives very close to that hospital who could help I thought. I was woken up this morning at 5:00 by a crying James. Pascoal died during the night. He was hurt badly by the accident. James was hysterical this morning as he should be and I’m just confused because could he have survived if he had the medicines or help really. Just got a call that the funeral will be tomorrow and I’m going to try to go. As always, transport is a problem. I just got back from buying some SMS phone messages from the mCel shop around the corner. I saw James. He held it together for all of about nil point 5 seconds and collapsed in my arms. It was a scene that made me realize he appreciates me and the other volunteers as more than just cashew buyers. He was hysterically crying into my chest and people (who know both of us) were walking by asking me what happened. I had to explain this (in Portuguese punctuated with my own crying) and I’m crying still as I write this. Poor James is doing all of this by himself because he has no other family. This was the brightest, smileyest kid I’ve ever seen. Taught himself English just so he could converse with the tourists! Please pray for him. He’s going to need all the help he can get.

The Prophet or Malcolm

Things get better with age!

So my sister paid me an ultimate compliment last night, I think. She had just received my brother and Samantha back from Africa and they told her about the Marcos phenomenon I experience everyday. Thanks to the wonders of Google, she was able to look up a picture of this guy on the internet. You can too. I want to start taking a poll of all that read this to see if I really do look like this guy or it’s just a case of all white people looking the same. The show is called o Propheta (the prophet) and the character’s name is Marcos de Oliveira. I don’t know the actor’s name. Anyway, Jess looked him up and said it’s a good thing I look like him because he’s hot. It’s a lot better than Malcolm from Malcolm in the Middle. As soon as I can figure it out, I’m going to put pictures of the two characters up on this page. Hopefully that won’t take me too long. Along the theme of the title, apparently I’VE gotten better with age. I no longer look like a pubescent teenager who talks in a squeaky voice. I look like a Brazilian soap star that is apparently pretty famous. Most of the characters on the show like him too, except when he was beating up his girlfriend Sonia – that was a sad day when that story line showed up because I thought I would lose some street credential but thankfully, that didn’t happen! I do find it strange though that my growing up is mirrored by television shows from around the world. But look at the pictures, have a few laughs and leave some comments about the similarities.

With this past trip though, (I’ll blog more about that later) the most important thing was seeing my brother and Sam in my environment. Lots of things happened in the two weeks they were in Africa, but the thing I noticed most is that things get better with age. My brother and I tolerated each other when we were younger, but now I think we actually enjoy each other’s company. He flew to the other side of the world to hang out with me I think that shows he likes my company now!!! He and Samantha were kind of advocating for me to come back to America (at least for grad school) because I’ve never experienced the States as an adult. I don’t know if they are saying the country gets better with age. J I was also very happy seeing Noel and Sam over here because, as they said, it was an eye opening experience. They are already planning for next year’s trip to who knows where… maybe things do get better with age.

Marcos Oliveirs or Thiago Fragoso

The scrawny one on the right is Malcolm. Thanks Jess!!!!

Let the voting begin! :)

scare tactics

So I wasn’t going to say anything to anybody before I got home. However, life changes and I’m writing about it now because I have been infected with a complete case of COMPASSION FATIGUE. All I really want to do is help. It’s something I’ve wanted to do in pretty much all the things I do in my life. No I am just so fucking over it. I extended to help teach computers and English here in Maxixe. Now I’m seriously thinking about what I would be doing if I weren’t here. When Noel and Sam were here, I expected to have problems because 3 white people are hard to hide in a town like Maxixe. I didn’t expect anything like what happened to happen though. It was Noel and Sam’s first night under a mosquito net and also mother’s day. I made sure to tuck them in and then we called Jess to wish her happy mother’s day. We went to sleep. I woke up the next morning and went outside to greet my housekeeper. She looked upset. I asked her where my plastic outside chair was, she asked where my bike was. I looked down and saw the broken lock on the floor, the roof of where it was locked up a little caved in and the chain on the floor. I just couldn’t believe it. Every precaution was taken and still it was robbed. I went to go get my phone from the bedside table to call Peace Corps, opened the curtains and saw a gaping hole that had been burned into the screen. So that’s why my light had been on the night before when I was pretty certain I had turned it off. They had reached in and grabbed my phone. Sam came outside and was looking for her shoes that she left outside. $100 chakos gone with the wind. Gotta tell everyone that my yard was completely locked up, I think they jumped the wall. So 4 things gone, phone, bike, chakos and chair. I chalked it up to someone seeing my visitors from America and thought they were coming with lots of money. That’s what let me sleep at night until this morning. I woke up this morning and went outside. I saw the jar that I use to scoop water and the top to my water barrel just completely lying on the floor. They had tipped out 120 liters of water and stolen the barrel. Nothing was heard. I’m just so frustrated by it all. I went to call Peace Corps this morning and got told to go to the police. They are going to do nothing. I don’t know if I was supposed to feel better after talking to the police, but I didn’t. It was such bullshit. To them it was more important whether or not I was single or married then really what was taken. They all came to my house afterwards and basically made fun of me for living where I do. They don’t understand why a foreigner lives out in the neighborhoods when I have enough money to live in the city. I don’t know either. It’s part of Peace Corps Policy to have us out in the communities. But when the community is robbing you to try and get you out of there, is it worth staying? Half of me wants to go home to the States, (not the right thing to do) half of me wants to stay exactly where I am just to stick it to the guy that I know is doing this robbing to try and scare me. I don’t want to deal with this for the next six months I just want to have some fun with the rest of my time here in Mozambique. But, I’m so tired right now. I didn’t sleep well at all last night because every single noise I heard I kept wondering if someone was in the yard. I feel and look a mess. Just gotta remember, everything passes.

Communism is dead?

Communism is dead?

The day before Sam and Noel came; I went down to Maputo to see the thyroid doctor. I figured it was high time to see the doctor since I had not seen one since I got my thyroid taken out. In the true comedy of errors, or just Mozambican logic, I get out of my house at 5 in the morning to catch the bus. We don’t leave until 8:30. I had scheduled my appointment in Maputo for 15h00 or 3:00PM; I knew I wasn’t going to make it. So I sent a text message to the doctor. She said she’d move it. I still didn’t make it. The bus pulls into Maputo at 16h00 and I get a phone call from the doctor to go straight to the central hospital to see the thyroid specialist. Luckily I was very near the hospital at that time. I thought things would finally be working for me. I was wrong. I had never been to a Mozambican public hospital. As Peace Corps Volunteers, we are spoiled with the private hospital in the embassy quarter of town – not real life I know. Anyway, I get to the hospital with a backpack and my computer and am sweating and stinky. I had just made a mad dash of about 7 kilometers after spending 7 hours on a bus so I was little ripe. I go to reception to ask where to find Dr. Paula.

I get sent to check in. (step 1)

At check in they give me a form to fill out and ask for my insurance card. (step 2)

I then move onto another line that I’d been waiting in about 15 minutes to fill in my personal details which I had already filled in at step 2. (step 3)

I get told I’m in the wrong line because it’s not workman’s comp and I have to go to the next line, where there is no one sitting at the computer. (step 4)

The lady from step 4 comes over to process me. She’s covering both desks because private pay processing lady is sick. I get a bill to pay before the doctor even looks in my direction. (step 5)

I walk over to the payment desk where a rather butch and disgruntled Portuguese woman is sitting who really hasn’t been doing anything over the course of the past 30 minutes to pay. I pay and get a receipt and get some indecipherable response to my query about the location of Dr. Paula’s office. (step 6)

I RUN to the other side of the hospital to see if Dr. Paula is there, she’s not and with my tail between my legs and a whimper, I go home. (step 7)

7 step plan to complete lunacy brought to you by a “official not communist” communist health system. It gets better though, because the next day I tried to get all another appointment made. Another doctor calls me and says I need to go to a different hospital in Maputo (private) to see Dr. Paula. I get to Consultorios Medicos and she is not there. The very same doctor who told me to go to CM told the very nice Dr. Paula to go to HCM where I was yesterday. However, Dr. Paula drove from HCM to CM poked at me a little, looked at my charts, explained some things to me, told me I should see her one more time before I leave Mozambique and pronounced me healthy and only having to get a check up once a year! Is there a moral to this story??? I don’t know, I’m just glad I don’t have to go through that again.

I've not felt like this

since I was a kid on Christmas Eve. The excitement is building and I think I'm going to go crazy. In case you haven't guessed it already, I'm talking about my brother and his girlfriend Samantha coming to visit me in Mozambique. I've been here for 2 and a half years and only now does some one come to visit. But I don't want to make you feel guilty or anything! I'm just really excited for the time to spend with them in Mozambique and Swaziland. Thanks to the wonders of the internet, i can see that they are safely in Barcelona. Having a good time I hope, those lucky dogs. Anyway, tomorrow I go to Maputo for a doctor's appointment and then i get to pick them up all bright eyed and bushy tailed coming of the night bus from Johannesburg. It's going to be some fun nights in Maputo, then back up to Maxixe. After that over to the beach for some R and R and beyond that, back to maputo, on to Swaziland game parks and then its over. whoa I hope it doesn't go that fast.

Ian

as coisas pequenas

If there is anything that Africa has taught me, it is to appreciate the little things you do and see that make you happy. That and the amazing amounts of age Africa has bestowed on me have made me appreciate the things I do have in my life. The highlight of this week, and I never thought I would say this is Noel Hefele coming to Africa. Oh yeah, Sam too.

Hi my name is Ian and I am an office addict.

Considering I haven’t been in the States since god knows when, I feel like I am pretty up to date on some of the television shows out there. Who ever invented or thought of putting whole TV show seasons on to DVDs should be both praised and persecuted at the same time. Praise is due because you as the viewer don’t have to deal with really annoying commercials for stuff you never really need. But the persecution comes from the fact that you don’t have to wait until next week to see if Pam and Jim really do kiss! I’m 25 years old, living in a 3^rd world country for almost 3 years now, WHY THE HELL DO I CARE IF TWO FICTIONAL CHARACTERS KISS! Oh but I do! Since I’ve gone through 50 episodes of this series in the past week I seem to have nothing else to do. But, whatever! Pam and Jim fake romance is so much better than mine just as Marcus and Sonia’s from the Prophet was the talk of the town here for MONTHS! The show ended a month ago and I still don’t see an end in site to not being called Marcus. Sorry Sam I cut the blonde locks. J Anyway, Jiminy has been keeping me company for the past two nights and so I’ve been awake anyway, why not watch something.

I remember when I came to Africa I was made fun of by certain friends for even thinking of bringing my computer. I knew the iPod was a must have, but where would I use a computer? I didn’t even know if I had electricity. Then when I went home this most recent time, my dad and his wife were teasing me about not living on the level of others. I do live on the level of others, with my ratty old stereo (always blasting) my dvd (always blasting) and my television (which I don’t have.) Even though I’ve been here almost 2 and a half years, I’m still shocked when I see a reed house with electricity, a car port (sometimes a car freshly _________ from South Africa) a satellite dish and a DVD player. Most everyone has a television and a cell phone, but not many people have a land line. The contradictions are so stark to what I thought I would be experiencing and what I am experiencing. Next week, I get to show them to Noel! J

Ties that bind

TIES THAT BIND

This month has been a month of visits – not a calendar month exactly, but a four week period. I’m loving it though because I’ve not had many visits to Mozambique. I usually have to go to a westernized country like South Africa or Swaziland to meet them. But I just had a friend from Swaziland come up to visit me and in 10 days I leave for Maputo to go pick up a certain person named Noel Hefele and Samantha McD (Noel said I spelled her name wrong last time I wrote it, so I’ll leave it at that) Yes it is true, Noel is actually leaving PA for more than just a few hours. People do change!! J But, I don’t want to talk about that yet, my friend’s visit from Swaziland was more important.

This friend is such a trouper. Murphey’s law has been a cannon law while this PCV has been in Africa. My friend is the poster child for the little handbook PC gives us called “Worst Case Scenario.” However, he/she is still here. “Time is over”, though and this PCV will be going home soon. But, s/he was here when my brother called last week and said something very interesting after I got off the phone with my brother. My friend’s grandma died while my friend’s been here and her family did not allow her to fly back home – ie my worst nightmare. Apparently it is my brother’s too. However, my friend and I were discussing that you do have to live your life for yourself. I’ve missed so many things since I’ve lived in Africa. I missed a family member’s birth. It still seems weird to me that I am an uncle. But things like this happen and I feel even more grateful for the time I have with family and friends because of it. It is not just with friends and family from the States, but friends and family from here too. It’s made me think a lot about what I want to do with my life when I am done here though. I don’t want to be coming back only once a year and never see people I care about. But stuff I’ve been looking at and mulling over in my head is making me strive to be true to myself. That’s not easy in this world and not easy at all in Africa. But I will try, and someone told me once here that the ties that bind a family together are an ancient magic. I’m beginning to wonder what the human race lost when it left Africa…

Old is new is old is new again?

I just finished reading an article about the music industry reviving LPs to help and combat against the bags of money they are loosing in the battle against mp3 downloading over the internet. Let me just say they have a whole different level to deal with once they even take a look at Africa. The whole music industry here (except for Maputo) are burned CDs that anyone with an internet connection and LIMEWIRE puts together on their computers. Maybe that’s why no one really looks this way to often. Anyway, in the article, it said that music executives are trying to revive the sale of LPs for new albums - because the sound is "better." Well it is, but when you live out of a suitcase or two, bringing your music collection around in huge flat discs just doesn't seem practicle. But it got me thinking.

While living here, I've gotten to appreciate books and also just being social so much more than I did in the States or Europe. But the other night I was dreading going home because I was without power and going to be reading by candlelight or writing in my journal. So much self-analysis is not a very good thing. I had a pang of longing for the States or just the west because there "you have options." It's true you have options, but think about it, what would I be doing in down time in the States

Watching a movie

Reading a book

Watching tv

going out for food and/or beer

Well, I do all of that here too with and without friends. I may have to think twice now before I saw that Mozambicans and Americans or anyone else for that matter are really all that different.

Thoughts?

Stupid people suck

So, I'm back from Chimoio now and landed right into a mess. I just want to talk about the title of this blog for a little while. Stupid people, I don't know if Webster's or Oxford has a definition for who they are, they can come in all shapes and sizes as far as I know, but they do have one defining character - they suck. Now, there are about 15 volunteers within an hour or two drive of the city where I live now. So needless to say we see each other quite a lot. The majority of us have grown quite close over the past couple of years because hey, they are who you turn to when you have problems. One of the disadvantages of being a third year PCV is that you see a lot of people come and go. Sometimes it is good (meaning they finished) sometimes it is bad (meaning they got kicked out or for health reasons should be back in the States.) Now, one of the stalwarts from my zona just got sent home. No one knows why, except for one person who ain't talking. Now none of that really bothers me, because I've since found out that this guy is okay and that is really all I wanted to know. But, the thing that gets me is that he's since called every PCV in the zona and appologized for running off, explaining that it is in his character - which we all knew. I didn't get a phone call but my best friend here got told to keep his mouth shut because he doesn't want me to know anything because I talk too much! I've really got to work on this because I don't do any less talking than any of the PCVs around here. But then Mr. Robot (his nickname) is not exactly mister personality.

Chimoio was awesome, that comes for the next blog.

Off to Manica

Just a little note for all the people that have gotten used to my constant internet this year (including me!!!!) So I wanted to tell all of ya that I'm going to Chimoio in the middle of the country for a week. It's for the annual boys conference. Hopefully I'll be in such a good mood when I get back!

A typical day at work

So, yesterday I was just sitting in my office doing some things and two colleagues come in. They ask me to come with them (bringing a digital camera) to a meeting of curandeiras (traditional healers or witches depending on your beliefs) Off I trotted. I thought it was just going to be running in, taking some pictures and leaving. It wasn't even really worth it for me to try and teach the colleagues how to use the digital camera - which had a disc in it. Never seen that before. Then, the chief of the women sat me down and let me talk to her a little bit. She even brought me into her 'house of healing.' I had to take my shoes off and then kneel in the room. It helped that the ceiling was so low but I understood that I couldn't tower over the spirits that had come to reside in that house. I guess it would get them upset. We were there though because one of the colleagues from the Maputo office is writing an article on these women because of their use of traditional medicine to fight AIDS. Some people will insist that the witchdoctors can cure AIDS, but Mama Ruth (the lady in the picture) said to me right away that she doesn't cure AIDS, she only helps with the symptoms for those people who wish for her help or don't have the means to get to a western based hospital. Very diplomatic I thought. But I was just astounded by their respect for me! Strange thought no?
Inside the "house of healing" all of the medicines and tools, except for the drums, were covered. Just the colors and the smells are enough to make you crazy. I wonder if this stuff really works. Maybe I have to go to these ladies when I'm sick next. Please stay tuned!

oh yeah, click on the link on the right ------------->
to see pictures

April 1 Dia Da Mentira

Today is a weird day. It's not a holiday and yet it is celebrated with a lot of gusto. None of us get the day off of work but that leads and lends itself to more practical jokes. It's celebrated the world over yet has slightly different "rules" in different countries. And it's a day I enjoy! But, something a friend and I were talking about yesterday, what kind of response do we really expect from people when we play a practical joke on them? "Oh thank you, you proved that I am in fact a gullible person and have insulted my intelligence!" Not likely... it would be more along the line of "YOU BASTARD"
"LIAR"
"F*&*&*"
Like I got today.

As I walked into the office, the games already started. The secretary asked whether or not I had heard that Robert Mugabe had been assassinated. I of course was very happy to hear he was out of the way, turned the internet on and found it wasn't true. He may get voted out, but that is a whole other blog. I took that joke and did it on a few other people. 2 believed me and ever spread it further. However, I think my crowning achievement was the trick i played on my brother. You see, he's coming to visit here in about a month and I've very excited. I emailed him saying I had gotten kicked out of Peace Corps and was on my way home, I was very sorry and I didn't know what to say. Needless to say, he was mad. His girlfriend was mad too. Thank God I was on the internet so he could talk to me about it before Sam called the airline! But the question is why are people so gullible? I've gotten Noel 3 years in a row now.

tchau

100

100 is playing a lot of importance in my life today. This is the 100th post to my blog. I think I was sitting in a cold library annex in Muswell Hill London when I started this post a little of 3 years ago. Now I'm sitting in a HOT office in Maxixe Mozambique. What a trip! The difference between Clinton and Obama is about 100 votes, the falting constituencies in Zimbabwe are about a 100, and its 100 degrees out. :) Lets all keep our fingers crossed that Mugabe gets voted out. Zimbabwe needs a change. America needs a change.


Oh and by the way liz, you got Iran, I got Kazakhstan. I think Borat is reading my blog!

Raining with the sun out….

Well at least the temperature has gone down. Yesterday was the crowning day of my hating the weather. It has been so hot and muggy for the past two weeks I found myself looking at pictures of Alaska and deep snow drifts on the internet just to try to cool my thoughts down. I think I have been itching for the past couple of days with last night being the culmination of it all! As I was eating dinner, I noticed that my ankles were really swollen and itchy. I looked down and saw that they basically were twice the normal size and had little red hive-y bumps all over them. I was ITCHY!!!!!!!! This morning I woke up and they were gone. I swear we just had an inch of rain dropped onto us and now the sun is out. I don’t know if this is global warming, or just Jokwe, the one day cyclone next day tropical storm friend of ours, off in the Mozambique Channel. Whatever it is, I’m looking forward to air conditioning and showers at the hotel in Maputo for the next couple of days.

Well, I’m back from Maputo and don’t think I posted this blog. It’s rainy and very stormy outside right now. I’m back in Maxixe for a little bit. Then I go up to Chimoio on the Zimbabwean Border for a week conference with some boys that I am still working with in Homoine. After that week, I’ll be back down in Maxixe for 2 or 3 more weeks and then Noel and Sam are coming!!!!! It’s my first visit from the States since I’ve been in Mozambique. I’m very excited and trying to save a bit every week so we can have fun while they’re here. I’ll be sure to take lots of pictures and put them up of when they are here. Back to rain again.

Ian

Itchy, itchy, itchy

 

Last night was the first night in my house where I thought dear God I'm in Africa, kill me now!  Those of you that know I have a flare for the dramatic are probably rolling your eyes, but it is so DAMN HOT HERE.  There's been a quick succession of storms about the size of Katrina that have hit the northern parts of Mozambique and Madagascar over the past couple of weeks.  3 I think in 3 weeks.  That has kept the humidity up for days.  I'm a prickly pear due to this heat rash I have and every single one of my friends is a crabby moody bastard.  Can you blame them though?  Remember East coast Augusts when you would be reading the newspaper and the whole thing would just be saturated?  That's what it's like here.  Just imagine 10-15 days of it in a row without the temperature ever really going down.  Kinda makes you lose your train of thought, like I just did.  I'm in my office right now with the curtains closed, the light off and the fan on high.  I'm desperate to just get the heat down.  The thing that is embarrassing, the Mozambicans are just so used to this, they hardly break a sweat… me I've got my own private Victoria Falls streaming down my forehead.

 

This weekend will be a nice break.  It's time for some regional meetings in Maputo.  We stay at this little holiday resort on the coast of the city called Kaya Kwanga.  It's a really nice place.  It was my first taste of Mozambique!  I remember when I got here I thought the place was a little sleezy but with some refurbishments, it's all nice a new now.  I'm looking forward to the chance just to get away for a couple of days.  It is my monthly shower time and I also heard that Sweeney Todd is  now being sold on the streets in Maputo.  Gotta go and get it.  J

 

 

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~Ian~
+258 825 232 821
www.weltwanderlust.blogspot.com

The Weirdest Thing

 

Don't you just love it when you are right?  I mentioned yesterday something about my landlord just creating problems with my house.  Well, I talked to my boss and he said that he and only he can renegotiate a price for the rent.  So I told my landlord to come to the office and talk.  He showed up today and every single person in the office was shocked.  I didn't even recognize him.  He's usually wandering around shirtless and drunk in his yard.  Sitting in the office here, he looked like a Mafioso.  I swear to you, fake leather shoes and belt, black pants that were so creased it looked like they had tent poles in them, and dark glasses.  That gave it away that he was drunk.  But, my boss was really calm and collected; he asked what we were doing here, (Mozambican formalities) and then started the meeting by asking to look at the old rent agreement.  My landlord handed it over and the agreement said that it is automatically renewable for 2 years once it expired, which was about 6 months ago.  My landlord starts saying that nothing is owed by any party (he actually owes my boss 2,500 meticais because of repairs my work paid for on the house.  The landlord says that all the proper discounts have been made and he is just present to talk about renegotiating a contract.  My boss wanted to see proof of the discounts.  Senhor Lukas got in a huff, grabbed the paperwork, mumbled something about coming back, and ran off – that was two hours ago.  Most of my colleagues want me to move now because a "vida negra" will continue happening.  The landlord obviously wants 600 meticais a month rent for a house that we worked on.  Oh well, at lest I see that I've got a lot of people on my side!  I'll keep you updated.

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~Ian~
+258 825 232 821
www.weltwanderlust.blogspot.com

Africa’s opportunists are……

Africa's opportunists are……

 

You fill in the blank here.  I am so fed up with people seeing white skin and thinking money, money, money.  I can take it when it's just beggars on the street, but when it's people like oh say my next door neighbor who has had other Peace Corps Volunteers live in his yard, then it drives me bonkers.  I do have to tell you though, and I'm not making this up, the man is stupid.  I don't know what he's thinking but he is just a STUPID human being.  He comes to me one night at 9:30 at night saying that my rent has gone up to 600 meticais a month.  My rent has been 250 meticais for as long as there has been a volunteer living in the house.  This guy said it is because of all the new things done to the house that the rent will go up.  To make a long story short, all of the repairs on the house have been done by Peace Corps or by ADECI, the organization I work for. 

 

This morning I woke up to him just being his sleazy self saying he couldn't come into the city to talk with ADECI because he doesn't know where the office is.  I'm sorry but that's bullshit.  He once proudly said to me that he is born and bred Maxixe, pretty much on the exact same land where the house now stands.  He's just trying to take advantage of me as a foreigner and as someone who "apparently doesn't know the system."  I've been visiting people at this house for months now.  I just feel so angry towards him because he knows I know he's trying to rip me off, but he's still trying.  If he would just let me alone for the 250 mets a month until I leave here, then he'd have a house full of stuff when I leave, if he continues to harass me, he'll be left with the four walls….grrrr….

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~Ian~
+258 825 232 821
www.weltwanderlust.blogspot.com

Even after two years

Yesterday was quite a weird day for me. Something I like so much about Africa is that everyday is really a new day. There is always the opportunity that you will wake up tomorrow and things will be better. It happened to me again today.

Yesterday, I had the second of 3 parts for the gender training sessions. This week was for the professors/teachers that will be helping out in the projects at the primary schools we have invited to participate this year. It is a wonderful program that really puts the power of after school programs into the hands of these schools - something I personally think is needed here. It gives the students an opportunity to do something else after school besides going to fetch water and the older ones get involved with teachers. Yes even in primary school. So we were on the back veranda of this old Portuguese sporting club. It looks right out into the bay over towards the capital city of the province. Right now there is a tropical cyclone in the channel between here and Madagascar, it's not supposed to come to land, but it is definitely affecting the weather around here. For the past couple of days, we have had TORRENTIAL rains that come through every half an hour or so. Sometimes it gets so much, you can't hear yourself over the pounding on the roof. Tin roofs in the tropics, i wonder who thought of that idea. Anyway, I saw some crazy big white caps raise up on the bay and just felt incredibly thankful for the development that I have seen on my side of the bay. I don't have to go over to the other side of the bay unless I want to go to certain restaurants. But, everyone in the training thought it was crazy that the boats were still going, I saw that they weren't loading them to heavy but that didn't matter, I saw a boat crest over a wave and the trough was just too deep. It didn't go down (thank God, most Mozambicans can't swim) but it definitely limped to shore. All of this for 12,50 meticais. Even in this former People's Republic, the people are still driven by money gods?!?!?!

The other thing I wanted to write about today is how grateful I am that I have a background that encouraged me to challenge, to question, to think outside the box and most importantly to be accepting of people who are not like you - even if you don't agree with them as I don't with republicans. Anyway, I know I don't speak Portuguese properly, but then again neither do Mozambicans. I speak it pretty damn well too and grammatically better than a lot of my fellow teachers at my old school. The thing that gets me is I had to lead these teachers (many of whom know me) in a cultural sensitivity class. I was talking and people weren't paying attention and then when they realized that I was speaking Portuguese and could be understood, they could TRY to understand but didn't. They just sat with these dumb looks on their faces. My favorite was when someone wanted to ask for another piece of poster paper to bring back to his group. I knew what he was asking for out of context and because I'm used to the way people try to speak English around here. But what he was either 4 free shits for group or group shits for free. I don't know! I couldn't contain myself and just handed him the "sheets." Later on in the day, I had to hand out the students guides for the ESH program. I had to hand out 6 each and then get them to sign off for them. Let me just say it was bedlam. I yelled at the teachers that we didn't have enough packs for everyone so I had to break them up into packs of 6 and couldn't give them a carrying case to bring them home. (You see the packs of ten were put into a nice little bundle to carry) Oh the bitching and complaining and the people jumping the lines so they could just do whatever they want. I let them take the packaging to wrap up their books, but then when they weren't looking I went and tore the packaging off so they couldn't use it. They all laughed. I hate it when I'm thought of as a complete idiot because the others around me can't think outside of the box. I wonder what I'll be like when I have children! Any thoughts?

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Now playing: Freshly Ground - Pot Belly
via FoxyTunes bay side sporting club.

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Now playing: Freshly Ground - Ma'cheri
via FoxyTunes

Gender Awareness when Women are not allowed to Speak

So as many of you know, I've moved jobs to a Mozambican run NGO where my duties have been completely changed around.  Basically I no longer teach kids who really don't give a crap about being in school.  I am now the local computer genius in my office, that spends his days making basic repairs on computers you can practically see through they are so riddled with worms.  They wonder why it takes so long for the computer to start up.

 

Anyway, last week was the first week that I actually got out of the office.  As my luck would have it, the 3 days I spent outside of my nice air conditioned office had to have temperatures of above 40 degrees Celsius and humidity of what felt like 150 percent.  My office runs this nationwide program Escola sem HIV/SIDA.  It's School Aids awareness program to get it into the heads of primary students the necessity of protecting yourself against AIDS.  Last week we had the principals of these elementary schools for a three day "gender mainstreaming" workshop.  I'm sure you don't even know what that means.  I sure didn't before I got to Peace Corps.  But I live in a society where girls aren't deemed worthy enough of higher education.  When a family has to choose between whether a girl or a guy has to go on to higher education, it will be the man without a second thought. Yet there were at least 6 female head teachers sitting in front of me at this conference.  The thing that annoyed me though was that they were doing just that.  They were sitting, nothing more.  My colleague asked at one point what everything thinks it means to be a man and a women.  The list that came up was hilarious.

Men are courageous, gallant, strong, handsome, hard workers, basically a perfect Adonis.

Now when the list came to be made for women, not one of them spoke!  The men made up this list of what it means to be a woman (since they are such experts!) subservient, obedient, mother, wife, basically everything  had to do with someone else and not with the woman herself.  I couldn't take it anymore and interrupted by getting up there and saying that none of the men knew anything about being a woman and never could because of pure "physical property" that is between their legs.  This was after a conversation about how men could never carry water and women could never work on the road was had.  I've carried water on my head 20 liters is heavy and it hurts!  Most times I pass by the road crews, I see them napping in the shade of a tree.  I went on by explaining that I come from a culture where the man carries everything for the woman, here it is the opposite.  I have Mag to thank about that.  Anyway, the participants laughed, thought I was weird and it went in one ear and out the other.

Is listening that hard?

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~Ian~
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www.weltwanderlust.blogspot.com