The Moment We Have All Been Waiting For

After more than seven weeks of anticipation and excitement, I finally know where I will be serving as a Peace Corps volunteer. I will be spending the next two years in Inharrime at the Escola Secundaria Geral Comunitaria Laura Vicuna. Inharrime is located in the beautiful Inhambane province in Southern Mozambique. I could not be happier or more excited for the adventures to come.

I will be arriving at my site on December 11 following the swearing in ceremony on December 8.

These next few weeks will be packed with model school, additional Portuguese lessons, local language lessons, and packing. I will write another blog as soon as possible, but please be patient.

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26 People! No Way!

November 10, 2011 I arrived in Namaacha safe and sound after an exhausting adventure. Here is a brief recap of my 5-day site visit.

November 5: At 4:30 am I was up and out of bed. My mom scrambled around the kitchen and made me a safe travels breakfast of eggs, sausage, bread, and tea. By 5:10 we were out the door, hand in hand, and on our way to the science hub (it is very common for people, even strangers, to hold hands). My mom dropped me off and the group of PCTs headed on our way to Maputo. About 40 minutes into our trip, we realized we were missing two people-the buddy systems fails when both buddies are missing! Alden and Jonathan were rushed by a Peace Corps car and met us on the way. Everyone was dropped off at their respective locations and I was taken the Peace Corps office where I met Eddie and Mark, current PCVs in Boane and Macia respectively. We went for breakfast at a cafe owned by a returned PCV and then headed to the fish market for the experience of a lifetime!

The fish market is a giant market with tons or raw fresh seafood. I cannot even name all of the different species there, but Mark and Eddie picked out 5 kg of oysters, 5 kg of prawns, and two types of larger fish. We sat at their favorite barraca and gave our raw seafood to the owner to cook for us. Shortly thereafter, two heaping bowls of oysters came out with three loaves of fresh garlic bread. I made a garlic bread-oyster sandwich and ate more than enough oysters. The next course came and the two large fish coated with garlic butter were served. When we thought we could not eat any more, the cook brought out 5 kg of prawns.

Pleasantly full, we traveled the rest of the way to Macia. The ride was less than eventful until the last ten minutes of our trip when a drunk Mozambican man sat next to Peggy (a PCV). His pants were down, he was fully exposed, and he could not seem to keep his hands to himself!

November 6: After breakfast, we walked across the field from Mark's house to the school. The school was built less than a year ago by the Portuguese government and it was in great shape (and even has running water). After our tour, we headed to Mark's host family's house for "coffee". I am writing coffee in quotations, because coffee turned out to be the biggest meal I have eaten in quite some time. Mark's mom made a coleslaw salad, rice, matapa (pumpkin leaf curry), beef, potato salad two ways, a chocolate cake, a vanilla cake, fish, and a corn and bean dish (it is a traditional Mozambican dish). It is safe to say I grew a food baby during her four hour "coffee".

Afterwards we took a tour of a Macia and headed home for a long night of digestion.

November 7: Today we headed from Macia to Bilene and spent the day on the beach. We took a thirty minute ride across the water and spent the day on the island facing the ocean. I saw a whale and started to love the Peace Corps life more and more.

November 8: As if one day was not enough on the beach, we headed out of Macia early and traveled to Xai Xai beach. It is safe to say I thought I was in paradise!

After a day at the beach, we headed to Chongoene to spend the night at Michelle's house (Michelle is a PCV).

November 9: We headed from Chongoene to Xai Xai to explore downtown Xai Xai. We walked around the market filled with miscellaneous goods ranging from onions and used clothes to electronic goods.

I enjoyed a soft-serve ice cream at KFC before heading back to Macia. I never thought my first trip to KFC would be in a third-world country. What are global markets doing to this world?

November 10: A long day of traveling... We left Macia around 9:30 and did not get back into Namaacha until 17:00. We did however manage to squeeze 26 people in one chappa (chappas are meant to hold no more than 12 passengers- we showed them)!

On Wednesday I will know what the next two years hold... I will be sure to update people as soon as possible.

The Chronicles of Namaacha

I am compiling some stories and adventures from my first four weeks at training that did not make a blog so far. Enjoy!

Crime and Punishment.

I woke up at 5:00 to the sound of my mom shuffling in her room getting ready to leave for work. Like clockwork, at 5:15 my mom shouted at my "tudo bom?" ("Is it all good?"), "tudo bem" (it is good), I responded. That marked the start of a bad day. She woke my sister up and left for work.

I carried on with my usual routine; I made my bed, cleaned my room and the dining room, and took a bucket bath. Upon returning from my bath I realized that the house was abnormally quiet- the television was not blasting American music and there were no screaming children in sight (turns out that my sister decided she did not want to wake up that morning). So I sat at the table and watched the minutes pass by until 6:40 rolled around. I was desperate- there was no food in sight, I searched high and low until I came across an old thing of bread. I covered it in peanut butter, inhaled it, and finished getting ready for school. At 6:50 my sister decided to wake up, turn on the television, and proceed to act like she did not do anything wrong (although she is responsible for making my breakfast and buying the bread every morning). I finally had had enough! I was so sick of not getting the food I wanted when I wanted it and I decided that I was going to rebel. I walked over to the freezer, took the last yogurt out, and left for class. My sister had an expression on her face that looked like I had just taken 1000 MT from her wallet. I walked to school with a bounce in my step.

As I have been taught, every action has a consequence. I thought I had done the time for my crime when my sister refused to talk to me during lunch (the silent treatment was devastating). I was wrong, Zaida had planned to fight back until the end. The next day, I had to take my lunch to the IFP because we had Peace Corps sessions the entire day. She packed my lunch with a smirk and wished me a good day. At 13:00 I realized why she had a smirk on her face- she had given me chicken feet and pasta for lunch! She placed the feet so that the claws were reaching out at me when I took the top off of the tuperware. GROSS.

Two points Zaida. One point Anna.

Cookie Monster.

I am changing my name from Anna to Cookie Monster. Since being in Namaacha, I have been dreaming of cookies. Cookies and cakes are always on my mind.

I have gone cookie crazy- I even have an intricate trading pattern set up. I trade my "agua e sal" cookies (the equivalent to saltines sans the salt) with Dylan because he gets fancy cookies every day and is getting sick of them. I trade my juice box with Mary because she gets "Marias" (shortbread cookies) because she does not like them and her family insists on giving them to her because her name is Maria in Portuguese. Every once in a while I get "agua e sal" from Maria and use those to trade with Dylan or other volunteers desperate for the blandness of "agua e sal" crackers. I am hoping that there are no trade embargos in the near future...

Cookies and cakes have become the focal point of my life in Namaacha. I am not looking forward to seeing my reflection in a mirror larger than one inch in diameter.

Paternity Test Requested!

My siblings finally got bold enough to ask about the "spots" all over my body (do not worry I have not picked up a deadly disease... In English we would call these spots freckles). I explained what freckles were and that my mom also has freckles. "What? You mean your father does not have freckles?" They frantically asked in disbelief. I calmly explained that not everyone has freckles, and that my father is among the many people whom do not have freckles. Somehow for them that translated into my father not being my actual father... maybe I will need a Paternity test to prove that Gary (sans freckles) is actually my father.

Leaky Roof.

A few nights ago I woke up soaking wet from my knees down. I was startled and in disbelief- I thought I had outgrown peeing myself in the middle of the night. When my brain finally turned on, I realized that I had not peed myself- the roof was leaking! (Come to think of it, I'm not sure which scenario is better). I sat and watched the rain slowly, but steadily drip from the crack in my tin roof. I decided there was nothing I could do, scooted to the other half of my bed, and went back to sleep. When I woke up, I verified that it was actually rain coming down from my roof and got to thinking of the possible solutions. Solution 1- try to explain to my mom that there is a hole in the roof. Solution 2- move my bed a foot and a half towards the wall. I struggled between the two solutions all day- on one hand I did not want to explain to my mom that there was a hole because looking up all of the words necessary to express the problem would take way too long. On the other hand, moving my bed a foot and a half might lead to the discovery of cockroaches or worse, a colony of mice that might be living under my bed.

I sat on the two solutions all day. When I got home, I closed my eyes and pressed against my bed. I did not discover cockroaches or mice and, I have stayed dry the last few nights it rained! Difficult Portuguese words averted until next time...

I am spoiling everyone- two blogs in one week! This will most likely be my last blog for a week or two, because I am heading out for site visits on Saturday and will not return to Namaacha until Thursday. Upon returning, life will be a whirl-wind of interviews and preparation for model school.

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The Medicine Man aka My Uncle

My uncle is a man of medicine, cures, treatments, language, culture,and knowledge.

My uncle claims to know 27 languages, and when asked to list the languages he knows he lists two, gets side tracked, adds three more to his list and then gets side tracked again. I am not patient enough to wait for the entire list of languages and I doubt he actually speaks27 languages. Often times I catch him talking to my mom in English when she is speaking to him in Portuguese. News flash- my mom does not know English!

The first time I met my uncle he talked to me for four straight hours. I had just gotten back from class and stopped in the kitchen to say hello to my mom. There he was, waiting like a lion excited to jump on his prey. He talked, and talked, and talked mixing Portuguese, English, and some other unknown languages into four painful hours.

I forgot to mention, he is also a financial advisor and during our four hour conversation suggested that I invest in a chicken processing factory in Mozambique. Here is a summary of his advice, "you are a white woman so you must know a lawyer, an engineer, and a health inspector". (He was right about two of those associations, but I will have to meet a health inspector before finishing the trifecta).  Still contemplating the chicken processing factory business venture, I can see the headline already: "Ex-vegan Gone Wild in Mozambique"!

This weekend, my uncle decided to grace us with his presence. He had just walked 100 miles and needed to show off his magical discovery. He found the plant that has the ability to cure AIDS, reverse paralysis, and aid in weight loss. The treatment involves eating the roots... enough said. My uncle is the medicine man!

Before eating, my uncle demands that he washes his hands, because he must teach the white woman how to act. We all roll our eyes at him as he puts on a giant performance for the white woman (and then I realize that I am the white woman that he is acting for). He insists on using a separate plate and separate silver wear for the different "courses" of our meal. Now that I'm writing this, I am realizing how common that is in the United States. To clarify, in Namaacha, everyone in my family gets a spoon and a plate with raised edges (I get a spoon and a fork when we have soup). If we have soup, you eat that first, followed by rice and whatever the curry is for the night. We do not use knives (we only have two knives in the house and one of those two is the chicken butchering knife) and we do not use separate silver wear for different courses- it is a one spoon does all household!

During dinner with my uncle I tried to explain why one of the male volunteers was wearing a dress (it was Halloween). I asked my uncle what the word for "holiday" was in Portuguese and he kept shouting, "yes, holiday, holiday" in English and not in Portuguese. Sadly, my mom does not speak English so she still does not understand the significance of Halloween (she thinks it is a night for men to wear female clothing).

I am hoping that everyone can enjoy the tales of my crazy uncle and get a good laugh out of these stories.

Training Update: I will be heading to Boane on Saturday for site visits. Boane is one of the three Peace Corps sites located in the Maputo City Province. I am looking forward to a five day "vacation" and hoping to take a day trip to Maputo for shopping at the art market!

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