I wish I took a picture of my normal face cause I know exactly how the captions would go:
So, I wasn't sure which puffed up face looked better to show the extent of my allergic reaction...so I put them both on. You decide. :) Imagine this: You just arrived to a new place, in the bush, less than a week ago. You know the language at an Intermediate level. These people have never seen a white person before (probably). And you woke up on morning with your face looking like a balloon? You have just put yourself in my shoes.
My whole life, I don’t think I have been allergic to anything. (I know what some of you are thinking, but everybody gets poison oak when they touch it, so I don’t call myself allergic to poison oak, even though those at Canyon Creek might like to believe…) I have tried so many different things throughout my life and in different countries: guanabana (in Costa Rica), a weird fish egg looking like fruit (in Costa Rica), kava (in Fiji), a lot of different fruits (in Thailand), masala and ata (fruits here in Mozambique), leaves of anything edible (in Mozambique), shrimp eyes (in Thailand), kangaroo (in Australia), (can you tell I’m finding it fun to go through this list right now?), toddy (the sap from a palm tree fermented while still in the palm tree – In India), I think I ate a maggot with a curried flavor (in Montana). I mean, I have eaten my sister’s food (and she puts TONs of spices and shit in it) (and it’s very good, by the way!) I guess I’m just trying to say that I’ve eaten a wide range of things, and been exposed to many things, and now that I’m in the bush in Africa, I swell up like a balloon? And from something as simple as cashews for goodness sake??!!??
Okay, I’m not going to lie. I don’t actually believe I’m allergic to the cashews themselves. I ate a lot of them this past Saturday and I was fine. It was Sunday evening I started noticing itch splots on my skin and my eyes feeling like bags.
Sunday late morning I went with a few of the other teachers to a house because they wanted to buy onions. So, I tagged along. It was a social event also. There was a big group of people there snapping the cashew fruit off the cashew nut. I was sitting there, so there was no reason I couldn’t/wouldn’t help in this process. We were snapping along, and then they wanted me to try this liquor/spirit they make from the fruit of the cashew. I knew it was going to be strong because I watched one of the other teacher’s do it right before me. Damn, it was strong. And no chaser afterwards (the locals who were there all day, just drink it as they work). Let me try to explain how strong this was. They were real excited to show me this, too. You can help a fire go by pouring this “spirit” on it. Maybe you can do that with other liquors also. I don’t know. I’m not a liquor expert, but the proof on that had to be high! I only took one small sip. That was it. No more.
I think I did start to itch while we were still there, but not a lot. My eyes were barely puffed up before I went to bed that night. (It wasn’t noticeable to the naked eye anyway). So, I just go to bed. Most think just sleep away anyways, right? My body is smart and always gets me through everything (That is the reason we take care of our bodies…by eating well and staying physically active. Extra drugs are not ALWAYS needed)
This has definitely been an interesting 3 days now. If I just paint some black and blue around my eyes, maybe people would just think I was in a big fight? For some reason, I would rather people think that…I don’t know why. . . Think of the scene in the movie Hitch where Will Smith’s face blows up…now think of my and what my face looks like…
Monday morning I pulled out my Peace Corps First Aid Kit and found the Benedryl stuff. I’m just about out of Benedryl now… I was self assessing myself. How bad is it? Can I still eat, breathe, and drink? Is my body still functioning normally? Yes. In this case, I would say this is a non-emergency. I sent a text to the non-emergency number of Peace Corps with all the basic information. Have I told you this problem yet? I only get cell phone reception under this one tree at the entrance of my school. If I’m not in that reception spot when you call or send me a text, I’ll probably never get it because it doesn’t go through at all then.
On my message to the non-emergency (I didn’t need to freak out or make anybody else freak out), I told them I would stand there for another 10 minutes and if nothing, I would come back at 16 hour. (military time here in Mozambique). I came back at 16h and nothing. Communication in Mozambique can be hard because messages don’t always go through and you never actually know if they do or not. I didn’t hear anything back, so I decided to wait it out another night. Maybe I’m already at the worst part and it’s slowly getting better?
I go to bed Monday night in those high hopes of having a normal face the next morning. Prediction? Yeah, you’re right. I still had a balloon for a head with squinty eyes. (I’m posting a pic of my puffy face). It’s Tuesday. My director has come over to check up on me and he’s concerned. I tell him what I have been doing and we both decide to wait it out (Esperamos pouco).
Monday and Tuesday were both spent by me taking the recommended dosages of Benedryl and lying on my concrete floor sleeping (the floor is cooler than the bed). My airway is still fine, I can still eat, and if I kept a cool rag on my face, my eyes could open on their own. Nothing life threatening. But, by Wednesday morning, with my balloon of a face, I decide my patience has run out. I call the Peace Corps doctor at the emergency number. They had been trying to get ahold of me, but you already know my phone dilemma…
Our PC First Aid Kit has a lot of stuff in it, which is great because that makes things accessible for times like this…and you are in the bush. So, this morning (Wednesday morning), I started taking something I guess that is suppose to be stronger. I can tell it’s working… you can’t quite see it on my face, or maybe that’s me being critical about my face… I’ve also been told not to touch any more cashew shells or nuts for that matter. And I was really liking cashews!!
PS – Have I told you that everywhere you look out here I am placed there is a cashew tree?
Casa Dois = House 2
Maybe this isn’t all that different than some places in the states. Isn’t it Utah that has a lot of Mormans?
There could be several reasons why Casa Dois’s are a common thing here. One, and this one’s obviously true, it’s part of the culture. Yes, I would like to believe that a woman could have more than one husband versus the norm you hear about with husband’s having more than one wife, but I’m afraid it’s not like that here. A man may have a wife and family in Mozambique, but because he works for long periods of time in South Africa, he may have another wife and family there. Or this could happen within Mozambique. Some wives even take in the kids of the other wives because schooling may be better with the one wife and that city. They are all one, big, happy family!
One theory I head about Casa Dois’s is that because of the civil war, a lot of me were killed and therefore the ratio of men to women was not equal and Casa Dois’s became the thing.
Either way it happened, it’s part of their culture. It may not be what I grew up believing or what you grew up believing, but to each their own. If it works, it works. It seems to work here just fine. Mormans have a long history of it, too. I think they even all live in one house in the Morman culture sometimes. Nobody can say what is right and what is wrong because nobody truly knows that answer. So, let’s all live in this world together and with what makes us happy that doesn’t affect anybody else in a negative manner. Let’s keep it positive. Let’s live in a world of peace, happiness, and love.
Peace Out,
Mandy the Hippie
PS – I live in Casa 2 at my school! I find it funny!
Yes, the rumors are true. Medusa has been slaughtered, taken to the grave, kicked the bucket, cut off the head… So, now, take a guess at what I mean when I say this…I’ll give you 3 guesses.
Man, you are a bad guesser… I cut Medusa off my head! It was getting hard to take care of them… considering I was always wearing a headscarf over them and my hair is fine and thin in the first place. They were just looking real sloppy… my scalp was dry and the wax was flaking, all making it look like dandruff on my head. They were great while they lasted. Who knows, I may do it again some day in my life…who am I kidding, through, it hurt like hell to get them!
I was a huge debate in my head whether I should keep them or get rid of them. Obviously, you know which side won. It came down to the reason to keep them was because of the time it took to do them, the time it took my friend who did it for me, and the fact that it hurt like hell. I mean, some days they looked good…and many days, they didn’t (because of the reasons already mentioned). Plus, having short hair is cooler and I had somebody to cut off for me in Xai Xai. No, she’s not a stylist, but I would say my hair looks pretty good. It is cooler and I don’t have to feel like I need to wear a headscarf so much anymore! And now I can run my fingers through my hair. Maybe I wasn’t patient enough for them. Maybe I’m too lazy about my hair… But in the end, I’m glad I cut them. I thank Erin greatly for all of her time to comb my hair back and stuff! It was great to have in the woods during the summer and I’m so glad I did it before I died! Next thing to check off is maybe to buy some hair here and get it braided in!
Bem vindo ao mato! When I got my site placement, I know I was in a rural area. I was happy with that. I definitely want to get the most out of Africa that I can! But what I didn’t really realize was how rural it was! When I opened my envelope, I had no information about it here which made it more exciting. I guess I didn’t know I could refer to my place as the bush, as some other people did with their sites. Well, I’m in the bush, it the mato… and I love it!
The closet place for me to buy most of my food it 15 km away. The only people within 10-15 km of me are my fellow teachers and the students and a few village houses here and there. Driving here was extremely interesting and I wish I could/would have taken more of it in, if wasn’t already such a LONG day in the car already! To get to my place, you drive north up Inhambane on the EN 1 and then there will eventually be a turnoff to the left for Mabote. It’s a sand road for there. 60 km of sand road to Mabote. Along the way, there are trenches dug, trenches that were used during the civil war. Last year, they cleared all the landmines from the area (so no worries!) As we were driving, the sun was setting. The sunset is an awesome site here. There are no mountains, so it’s all flat, and the sky turns an awesome orange. The sandy road, the orange sky, the table like trees, reminders of The Lion King. Next time I watch The Lion King, those thoughts will be reversed… The Lion King will remind me of Africa. “AAAH tapangua, galavitimafa, a zimbababwa….”
When the teachers here (the few that have not left for summer vacation that is) greet me, they tell me “Bem vindo ao mato!” When I met my supervisor at the conference we had first in Xai Xai (a beach), she just referred to Mabote as the bush.
I did get a tour of the school and it’s hard to believe the size of it. It’s not huge but it’s got room. There are 6 classrooms, a lecture/conference type room, 2 dormitories, a basketball court, a soccer field, cafeteria area, and a big area they have a garden already going (which is really exciting because I just learned an awesome way to garden, it’s called permagardening…look it up!) It’s a new school, extremely new actually. I think they have completed 6 months. Right now there is only 93 students which means I am a lucky volunteer who actually gets a small class of 30 students (most will have like 50 students in one classroom and some even up to 120 students in the north).
I spent my whole first day cleaning and organizing my house (and writing this blog and in my journal). One of the teachers asked me how I was doing and such and said if I needed any help, the students could help… offering the students… I did also go into town with that teacher so I could buy some veggies and such. Some of the students cam also and he sent them with me to help me shop. Apparently I also can not hold my own bags or even carry them myself into my house. They are really sweet. They just grab it right out of my hands. I’m sure I will have fun with them as time goes. I kind of feel like I’m in an awkward spot. I will be their teacher but I can’t communicate with them very well. My Portuguese is only at Intermediate Middle. Tomorrow I’ll spent more time outside and play around.
My first meal I made for myself at my house was French toast with a strawberry syrup (that I actually screwed up) and Irish pub chips (round French fries). Tomorrow I think I’ll make myself a pasta salad. And then I will soon buy a rolador and make my own coconut milk!
It's the sibling match up. Isly and Ada to the left (my little brothers), the two neighbor brothers who were over a lot and goofing around with us, and Pai and his niece... Too hard to explain the family tree, so I'm not going to...
And that there is my 7 year old brother Ada...Looking happy.. :) 
But being serious in a photo is what you are suppose to do... I have tried the serious thing, but it's hard. They have a real skill here. :) This is Isly, my 3 year old brother. 
I don't think my mama was good at the serious face in pics either. :) 
And a closeup of Isly. Wish I could see his Michael Jackson dancing right now!!!! :) 
Those are my clothes drying after lavar as roupas. And this is in front of my home. 
This is my backyard. My mama kept a big machamba (garden) with papaya, matapa, potatoes, peanuts, tomatoes. . .
This is the front of my house with our little veranda. I love it cause it reminds me of the Flintstones!
My grandma here is a seamstress, so she'll sit on the veranda sewing. My mama is making coconut milk on a rolador. 
There she is scraping off the coconut from the shell for the coconut. So, these past 2 months in Namaacha, Mozambique, I have not really officially been known as a Peace Corps Volunteer. I tricked you all, haha! I was really a Peace Corps trainee! After many, many hours of language classes, technical training and all those damn HUB days, I’m now officially a Peace Corps Volunteer, or better known as a PCV. I somehow passed the language test and know enough about my safety, security, and what I’m suppose to do for medical things while in Mozambique, and they have sent me out on my own. WOOHOO!! I graduated…and unlike normal, I went to the graduation. But that was kind of a requirement to swear in as a volunteer…
In our group of 70 volunteers, we have health volunteers and education volunteers. Within the education, we have science and math teachers, and English teachers. Capulani’s are sold all over Mozambique and are use as the main form of clothing, baby carriers, etc. So each of the 3 sectors described above got matching capulani’s and had a dress or tunic (shirt) made from it. I had a long skirt made. But here’s the story about that:
We arriving in Maputo with a good 2 hours at least to get ready or chill. Unfortunately, we could not get ready because the hotel was not letting us check in until 2…which meant we would have 30 minutes to get ready for the ceremony. And it was a HOT day… I definitely already sweated through the clothes I was wearing at the time. So, we chilled around the hotel…there was a pool…I practiced a dance for the ceremony with a group. When we finally got to our rooms, I took a quick shower, got ready and BAM, I was good to go. I go downstairs, time to spare. James comes down and says Vivienne’s zipper completely broke, which meant the whole backside of her dress was wide open, not quite appropriate for swearing in. The zippers in Mozambique are pretty cheap and I remember another friend’s zipper coming open, but it was an easy fix. So, I run up to the 4th floor to see if I can help. Her zipper was definitely BROKEN! No doubt about it. I tried for a bit, but we were already late. Ali gave us some sewing needles we could use to pin it closed, so we did that in the long run. We then ran downstairs… well, took the elevator, and NOBODY WAS AROUND! HOLY SHIT!!!! Are we missing our swearing in ceremony? Am I not going to become a volunteer? We walked outside, and thank goodness, there was Claudia, our boss, ready to leave. She told us we had 5 minutes to get anybody who might be left… so we went to each floor and yelled Peace Corps. Only 2 were left. We piled into Claudia’s car and rushed to the ambassador’s house…
I was getting out of the car… (I bet you thought the story was over)… and… WOOPS… MY zipper busted open! Without my zipper, my underwear would be showing and everything else if my skirt had the chance to fall down before I grabbed it! No, we didn’t think ahead… we did not bring extra needles. . . So here is where we had to be creative and innovative with what we had. Claudia was looking for a belt and then looked at my camera strap. I took the camera off the strap, she tied the strap around my waist and she tucked my skirt under it. No, it didn’t look great since it was suppose to be a long skirt…but it looked better than a bare ass! Well, I did have underwear on… so it wouldn’t have been bare… and it wasn’t sexy underwear either…
Swearing in was… well. . . swearing in. For some reason they only had 69 chairs for the 70 of us, so my right butt cheek hurt a bit more than my left butt cheek. Jason and I should have switched halves sooner. There was a small Ngoma Time (talent show). Daniel wrote a song for it and we all had sang it. (I don’t think I am using correct English anymore). Candido taught us a dance also. A dance to drums. It was really cool. We didn’t have time to learn the whole thing with huge kicks in the air and such, but it was pretty cool none-the-less. Either I’ll be able to post it on here, on Facebook, or you’ll just have to wait until I return to the states…OR you can come visit me. This is an open invitation. I do have the space. And where I am, in Mabote, Inhambane, you’ll definitely see Africa.
Thanksgiving thoughts: turkey, mashed potatoes, cornbread, green beans, sweet potatoes, apple crisp, cherry pie, pumpkin pie, AMERICAN FOOD!
You might think a Thanksgiving outside of the US might not include all the above…especially in Mozambique where all the ingredients aren’t always so easy to get. There is no super Wally World here (and thank goodness for that!) But amazingly enough, a lot of that above was present at our Mozambican Thanksgiving, and I think if I didn’t have some small bad bacteria swimming around in my stomach that day, I would have REALLY enjoyed that meal.
I will admit, there was no cherry pie or pumpkin pie, or my sister’s sweet potato savoury dish, but we had 4 turkeys, mashed potatoes and gravy, stuffing, apple crumble, green beans, bread, salads, etc. It definitely fed 70 + of us.
Thanksgiving always brings back great memories:
I love adding to the list great memories!
I know this may be a bit forward for some of you, but I just have to write about this!
So I have seen this more than once and it got me thinking. I’m sure you all know how I like to make things equal…especially when it comes to men and women. If you didn’t know this, why are you reading my blog?
It’s funny when you are in a country where you are learning the language. Some of the words the person will translate for you when in conversation are the easy words. They are the words that I already know. Like obrigada. Obrigada means thank-you. It’s like the first thing you learn coming here. Why can’t they translate a harder word… like the word for hanger or something.
Hand motions and body language can also be a great determinant to what is being said…sometimes… as long as the context isn’t completely lost… which happens because it’s not only a language barrier here, there’s a cultural difference which accounts for the odd things my mama here would talk to me about…
Anyways, let me get back to the original question. More than once or twice, I have encountered a guy here talk about a woman, may it be his wife, mother, or just some woman. They aren’t saying anything bad about the woman, just referring to a woman, and because my first language is English, they use gestures and body language (maybe more for me, anyways). When they refer to a woman, they use the hands and place them under the boob region on their own chest as if holding up their boobs. Does that mean that as a woman when I am referring to a man, should I put my hand down by my crotch region as if holding a penis? I’m sure we Americans do some gestures and such that seem quite odd to other cultures… even probably within the states themselves… but now, I will just leave you with that thought…
This is only one part of the actual cow...I just wanted to look wierd... 
So, I put my dreads up as if they were cow horns....but wait until you see the real cow head!
These are my fellow centipede cow members...and now we are the Sisterhood of the Traveling Bottle Cap... LOVE IT!
And Ushma is our butcher...or better known here as the Matadouro!
You can't go wrong when a man dresses up as an African woman...wearing the capulani and carrying a baby on his back with a capulani!
This is not all of the Moz15's, but a good majority of it. We decided to hike to the large pile of rocks where we can stand on them and be in 3 countries at once, Mozambique, South Africa, and Swaziland. We didn't get harrassed by border control!!! :) 
I am trying to show my strength here and I am actually balancing on my hands on top of the rock while in 3 different countries at once....but it actually just looks like I am leapfrogging...No big deal. 
I decided to do a little off on my own. That background is Namaacha, my home for 2 months. 
These were the coolest trees ever! And it provided awesome shade from the African sun! The girls: Ali, Annie, Ushma, and I
And of course I have to get a picture with Jason!!!!In Thailand, India, and here…really almost any place where the people have naturally darker skin, they want lighter skin, using whitening cream and such. In America, and other places where they people have naturally lighter/pale skin, they want darker skin, using tanning oils and spending too much extra time in the sun. Here, the question would then be, “To be or not to be white/dark/black?” I found this concept pretty interesting when I first really encountered it in Thailand, but I think the saying goes here: “The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence.” I’m not going to lie, though, I definitely fall into this category. I’m white (I know that may surprise some of you…)and I like to have a bit darker skin… I get proud of tan lines. Unfortunately in my case, most of the time it’s actually burn lines…
I found this interesting in Mozambique, though. Another concept from “The grass is always greener on the other side.” I guess it was somewhat like this in India, but not as much in my face as here. The question here would be “To be or not to be fat?” In the Western countries, to be fat is not good. To be fat, according to magazines and other forms of media, is ugly and bad. I think here we need to define fat. Common sense tells me fat is a person who is unhealthy because of their weight. Fat to our Western media says if you can’t see just skin and bones, you’re fat. Due to this definition that is ever so present around us in the US and I’m assuming other western countries, I have always felt on the bigger side. In other words, fat. I was always the chubby child. But, really, I have never been unhealthily fat looking back at it… and sort of at me now. But also, in America in particular (cause that’s where I’m familiar with), normally I would say I’m fat and people would say, “No, you aren’t fat.” And be all PC about it. The role has seemed to change here.
It’s not a mean thing at all. It’s just a difference in the culture and behaviors. Let me preface this, I don’t think I’m skinny by any means, but I also don’t feel like I’m hugely fat. Chubby is the word I guess I like to use. Here in Mozambique, my mama has called me fat more than once. Gorda is the word for it… She points at my belly, sometimes, and that it sticks out some. I was taking it with a light heart (and still am), but it takes a bit of a toll on a person. Growing up in a culture where fat is bad, being called fat does not help my self-esteem on my body image, which has never been great anyways. And, as in the USA, it’s placed on the fact that I’m tall. Not really always the reason… but, if they give me a reason, I might as well take it.
What are some of the things you think of when you think of me here in Mozambique as a volunteer for Peace Corps?
Let’s break up that last answer…
Yes, it is great to do this while I’m young. There are a lot of benefits to being a young volunteer and traveling to developing nations. But here is what I’m more inspired by:
A 69 year old lady coming here to Mozambique as a volunteer. Yes, a lot more young people, typically straight out of college, join the Peace Corps, but you can’t forget it’s not only for the young! Any age can do this, you just have to pass the medical. If you have always wanted to do the Peace Corps and you feel you are too old, scratch that thought! Or if you are young, and you want to do PC, but you aren’t ready right now, do it later. Okay, that’s the end of my selling and campaigning for Peace Corps…
Let’s talk about this 69 year old lady. She’s great! They do say wisdom comes with age and I don’t believe that is a myth. Yes, she walks around slower and she would love to have a car many times, but she is strong and able. I think she has been a necessity for our group of 71. One, because we can see that you don’t have to be physically young to do this; and 2, because she cracks everyone up, has a great attitude, and is pretty down to earth, and everyone loves her. She was part of the cow from Halloween, and is therefore part of our “Sisterhood of the Traveling Bottlecap.” I can’t wait to hear her story with the bottlecap when she sends it on to the next person!
The other day we went to the bar, a small group of us, and we had a couple of beers. Naturally, when you get a group of girls together, a conversation comes up eventually about the guys we all know… maybe not always, but it has with us. We make a top 3 list. No, I’m not sharing my top 3 publicly on the internet. It’s just a funny conversation to have sometimes! (Due to privacy, I don’t want to use the lady’s real name, so we’ll call her Bugs Bunny). Bugs Bunny is our matchmaker. She has been observing all of us and trying to see who is flirting with who. She’s actually quite disappointed for the lack of it, and it’s already been 6 weeks! Bugs Bunny went through each one of us there and was jokingly trying to decide who would be good with who. Needless to say, it was a very funny conversation.
She is doing a great job here, somebody we can all learn from. I know I had said it before, that any age can do Peace Corps. When people told me it was great I was doing it at a young age (I’m actually one of the oldest here, relatively speaking), I told them they could still do it. But, I guess it has come to a better realization that I can do this again down the line, when I’m 69. Thank-you Bugs Bunny for being here and being an example for many things, for us fellow Americans, and for the Mozambicans who seem to have difficulty believing her age and what she is doing here.
Tenho uma amiga aqui. Ela vive perto de a minha casa em Namaacha. Ela e Mocambicana. Ela deu mim muitos presentes por nada. Ela deu uma fruta chama-se masala, 5 tomates, e 2 pratus de comida, e sumo. Ela parace alegre e gosta falar a mim. Ela faz mim rir, mas nunca entendei que ela dizando. Quero ajudar-lhe em alguma via mas nao sei como. A sua marido e ela lutam e ambos beberiam. A minha familia tentava ajudar mas definitamente acho bem ser sua amiga.
My mama and Isly. All the women were busy conzinharing and every once in a while came out to dance and present things to the bride and groom for the wedding. :) 
The guests get a gift here...all the women wear a matching capulani! SWEET! :)
Getting low and doing the butt move..as is the common dance here in Mozambique. Not inappropriate. Just a different culture... Yes, we do the pelvic thrust dance in the states...in the bars...but in that case, the context is different and can seem inappropriate.... :)
Mozambicans LOVE getting their picture taken as long as you ask. Then they LOVE to see the picture afterwards! Hands are all over the camera, but it became a highlight of the wedding dance party!
I don't know why, but they really wanted me to sit at the DJ station and hold the disc in my hand....and then I was surrounded buy the kids! Ada and Pai are in this picture. Pai is actually Ada's uncle...my mama's brother....but Ada and Pai are close in age. The answer is yes, but the things I am learning and experiencing are much more fun and interesting than what I am doing. Okay, maybe that last sentence doesn’t really make sense… but as I learn another language I think my native tongue is getting worse… (and by native tongue, I don’t mean German even though my last name is Nurrenbern…E brincadeira! You all already knew that! [E brincadeira = I’m joking])
What have I been doing? That is a good question. So much has been going on and yet so little at the same time. I’ve been here for 6 weeks now and only have 3 weeks left. Am I really suppose to be fluent in Portuguese in only 3 weeks? Training is all coming together here soon. We have a “model school” that starts next week. I’m lucky that I am teaching English because that also means I get to speak English (simple words and slow) while teaching. I’m still nervous about teaching English. It’s hard to see myself in a classroom… I see myself in a gym… or outside, open and free space. Instead, I’ll be in a small classroom with anywhere from 40 to 120 students in my class! But, there is a small chance I’ll get to teach PE instead… my fingers are crossed! But how do I teach PE to 120 kids at once? And no resources? I like the idea of the challenge!
I will soon find out my placement… in one week… AAH! It shouldn’t be so nerve racking because anywhere they place me will be great and I’ll be in Mozambique… but it’s still the anxiety of where I’ll be spending the next 2 years of my life: in mountains or on a beach? Green or dry? Isolated or by more people? A developed site or a new site? Will there be activities I can get involved with or start? (sports in particular) Will I have a roommate or will they be able to get me a place of my own? Electricity? What kind of food nearby?
Okay, so what else is going on because you probably don’t want to really know all that goes on in my head. I had my birthday a month or so ago. It was nothing big… I’m just getting old. It keeps amazing me how close to 30 I am… I mean, my sister is already 30, and she’s old!!! haha I hiked to some waterfalls nearby here in Namaacha…there wasn’t much water flowing, but they were still pretty. I’ve also been on a good hike with a big group of people to where Mozambique, Swaziland, and South Africa meet. I was in all 3 countries at once, just balancing on a big rock…I’ve also been to a traditional wedding, but I think I wrote about that in another blog.
Halloween: No, Mozambicans don’t really celebrate, but we Americans do! So, here in Namaacha they have 3 neighborhoods called Bairos. There is Bairo A, Bairo B, and Bairo 25 de Junho. I live in 25 de Junho, which is a big Bairo, and therefore is split into a couple different sections. I live in the Matadouro section. Yes, this is all relevant to Halloween. Matadouro in Portuguese means Butcher. We have a Matadouro in our section, hence are section is called this. There are 10 of us that live in this bubble of Bairo 25 de Junho, so 5 of us got together and had the theme of Matadouro for our costume. One person was the butcher and the rest of us were like a Chinese Dragon but as a cow, also known as a Centipede Cow. Obviously, we won the costume contest…one beer. So, what did we do with that beer? We dumped it into our bucket of sangria we made and now have a sisterhood thing: The Sisterhood of the Traveling Bottle Cap. Throughout the next 2 years, we add something to the bottle cap and send it on to somebody else out of us Matadouros.
I’ve been learning to make some of the dishes of Mozambique. For a class one Saturday, we cooked something American for our mothers. In our heads, burritos could and would work out. I mean, all we needed was rice and beans (no problem here), tomatoes (check), cheese (more difficult to find), garlic (check), onions (check), capsicum (check), cilantro (no, but salsa was still good), yogurt (no. For sour cream…), and avocadoes if possible. Oh, and bread flour, water and salt for the wraps. The moms had to buy our ingredients… and it’s easy to see how a lost in translation can happen…
There was no yogurt, but we found a way to make sour cream with powdered milk and vinegar… It kind of worked… They only brought 6 pieces of processed cheese slices… And the flour was corn flour… the flour they use to make this thing called xima… The wraps weren’t wraps at all. They were corn flour balls that we ended up frying…
We decided to call it Salada de Taco (Taco Salad), but here’s the funny thing with that…Taco in Portuguese means cheap, like a cheap person. As many challenges as we faced, and lack of correct ingredients, it actually turned out pretty good… I’ll make it again!
Other little things: I have not killed and feathered a chicken yet; I’ve only had 3 huge cockroaches in my room (dead); the centipedes here are huge!; I haven’t seen a monkey in Namaacha; my goal is to carry things on my head; I made my family here s’mores; my family doesn’t quite know why I put a couple bananas in the freezer (banana pancakes later…); Brazilian TV is funny to watch; not having or wanting a boyfriend is almost unheard of, especially at my age; the beer here is pretty good; I do laundry by hand; everything made is basically from scratch; I bathe from a bucket; instead of mowing a lawn, we sweep it to help keep rid of bugs in the house.
30 Oct. 2010
Indiana, the state I was born, the state I grew up in, the state most of my family lives, and the state that isn’t well known for much…
To people in the states, Indiana is known for cornfields (but so is Iowa), for Gary, Indiana, and for Kari here, the Indianapolis Colts. People in the states have mostly heard of Purude, but they don’t always realize it’s in Indiana.
To people in New Zealand and other western countries I have been to, Indiana is associated with first, Indiana Jones, and secondly, the Indy 500.
To people in Mozambique, when I say I am from Indiana, they first think India… but then they look at my bright white skin and golden blonde hair (well, they don’t always see the hair) and realize something here is lost in translation… And to make it extra confusing, I tell people I have lived and worked in India, so then they try to put all this together in their heads. (In Portuguese, the word for a person from India is Indiana…go figure).
27 Oct. 2010
As some of you may know, back in April/May I got dreadlocks (just to let you know, it’s a painful process, but easy to manage when hair is longer and working in the woods over the summer…) Anyways, here in Mozambique with dreads:
I was thinking dreads would be good for Africa. My guess is they would be common here and they kind of are, but braids are more common. But, just like in the states, having dreads can be associated with drugs. The name here for dreads is rosta. The name for drug users is rosta…I guess it can get a little mixed up…
Anyways, Peace Corps (or as known here Corpo de Paz) made me quite paranoid about showing my hair. And I have this feeling it’s because I am white and with dreads, but in the end, I’m not really sure. Ever since I’ve left our initial hotel in Maputo, Mozambique, I have had something on my head to cover my dreads. Even for the first week, I did not show my host family my dreads. They kept asking me about it, and I was honestly worried they would not like me or judge me in the wrong way… Really, too many wrong ideas put into my head about it. Yes, I should be aware of the judgements that can be made, but that happens in the states also. My family here actually loves my hair. . . But, yes, I will use my best judgement and feel the people around me before showing them…just an added experience to my PC experience overall! Perhaps after a while, I’ll cut them out and get different hair braided in…that’s popular here! J
25 Oct. 2010
“You better watch out, you better not cry. You better be good, I’m telling you why. Landmines are in Mozambique.”
Okay, maybe this blog is going to make you worry about me more, but DON’T! Yes, there are still some landmines leftover from the civil war (that ended in 1987 I believe). These landmines are marked, and I mostly only travel on used paths…plus, Peace Corps has made it a point not to put us in a place that has landmines.
So, basically, this blog might be counterproductive about ensuring you all about my safety, but I wouldn’t be joking about it like this if I felt unsafe. I guess I’m figuring you might have heard or read about the civil war and landmines in Mozambique, so I needed to address the matter. I would say walkng in Gary, Indiana is probably more dangerous….
This is my Mozambican family I lived with for 2 months. I love them!!! We are sitting out on the veranda. 2 of the boys are my brothers, 2 boys are neighbors that were over all the time. The other lady is my grandma, who is also a seamstress. And the thumbs up sign is a way to greet people you know well here. LOVE IT!
These are my two little brothers, Isly and Ada. Isly is 3, Ada 7
I've never had brothers, so this was fun to have 2 little brothers, and they love pictures!
They also love to dance like Micheal Jackson...and to dance in general.
20 Oct. 2010
Okay or O que? I never realized how much I use the English word “okay” until now where when I say okay, they think I’m saying “o que?” Imagine walking around the US and responding with “what” for so many things!
“Here’s the broom.” “What.”
“You can eat the banana.” “What”
“Would you like some tea?” “What.”
“It’s time to take a bath.” “What.”
I can only imagine what my family is thinking: “Does she not understand anything?” “Her Portuguese sucks and it’s been 5 weeks here!” “Americans must not know anything!” “Where is her common sense?”
Onto my actual learning and using of Portuguese…it is coming along. As time goes by, I’m able to have more actual conversations with my family besides for the, “Good day. How are you? I’m good, thanks.” We’ve talked about some differences and similarities between Mozambique and America, about AIDS (some), theft (in Mozambique and in America), what we are scared of (me= big spiders, mama= frogs), about my family at home some, that I don’t want kids of my own (they have a difficult time understanding this concept…but we laugh every time they bring it up), and what I’m going to do after these 2 years. They are definitely patient and that helps a lot because they’ll repeat many times or explain something in a new way.
I have definitely made them laugh heartily because of something I have said or done in regards to language. I still don’t really know why on some, but I will laugh with them also. Sometimes I realize it right after I said it…For instance, I call my mom here mama, which is the endearing term to call your mom here. But, the word for boob is mama (accent on the first syllable). It’s hard to be sure to say mom versus boob…
Also, coco (accent on first syllable) is coconut and coco (accent on second syllable) is poop. But make sure you don’t say you like to eat poop!
16 Oct. 2010
“Here comes the bride…all dressed in…” red
Weddings, obviously can differ from country to country, culture to culture, religions to religions. Differences in what is work, what the women do, what the men do, the dancing, the presents, the cake, etc. Within a country, weddings can differ. Just look at the USA. A wedding in the south differs from a wedding in the west. And even more differences occur from religion to religion. My idea of a good wedding: a mix of all the best things from all the different weddings. Of course, me plus a wedding means I have to get married. Remember, we are talking about me, Mandy Nurrenbern.
Anyways, the answer to your unspoken (or spoken for all I know) question is yes, I did go to a Mozambican traditional wedding, and yes, I am going to talk about it here.
I asked my mama here what I should wear and she told me just pants and a t-shirt, no big deal. And, of course, she was right. But at the wedding/ceremony (all really one thing) we (the women) received capulani’s (surangs) that we wore over our pants. They make an outfit bonita (pretty).
I’m not going to lie, it definitely started off slow. I sat in a lawn chair in the yard under the shade. As the sun moved throughout the day, we moved throughout the day to stay under the shade. The bride and groom at this point were in a room with their parents , eating and probably saying the “I do’s”. At one point, they walked out together and marched around the guests and got pictures taken. (Pictures are serious…no smiling). During this time there was a lot of chanting and dancing around the bride and groom Chanting was out of the question for me since my language skills are low, but I did pick up the dancing…
Dancing is definitely a big thing as the day/night went on. There was some dancing I knew and some Mozambican style, but it’s too hard to describe here. I did love that the women coule dance and did dance versus the traditional Indian wedding where the women didn’t dance. They were amazed I could get low with the rest of them!
The wedding gifts are individually given to the bride (and groom). We did small dance steps with a chant as we went up and presented a gift each to the bride. The gifts were all very practical to life here in Mozambique. Cups, a tray, fleece blankets, a couple of capulani’s, a pilao (giant mortar and pestel thing), etc. After presenting the gifts, we got in a circle and one person would go in the middle and dance to the chant and then go out and someone new would go in. Surprisingly, I did not go in the middle… Why? Maybe it was the intimidation of the Portuguese.
The wedding cake: It was a 10 tiered cake, huge, tons of sweet icing, 2 dolls on top representing bride and groom…NO! It was simple, nice, easy. It was a small cake with simple icing. Not everyone at the wedding received a piece of cake because of the size, but everyone did receive a bite of cake. They cut the cake into bite size pieces and put in a bowl. The bride and groom walk around with the bowl and we grab a bite of cake. Simple, nice, easy.
I did get my camera out and it was a hit. Why? Because it’s a digital and the picture is seen right after the picture is taken. They wanted a dancing picture; they wanted me to sit at the DJ chair, hold a CD case and get a picture (with the kids surrounding me). I think this will be a good reminder to me to take pictures! J
A little side not here: I saw 2 men chase down one of the goats around. Not too much after that, I saw that same goat hanging by it’s feet from a tree being skinned by the 2 men. Then for dinner, I had goat.
The End.
PS – My style of dancing fits in with Mozambique better than in the US. Another sign this my place to be…Africa…my motherland….:)
6 Oct 2010
“Rubber Ducky, you’re the one. You make bath time just so fun!”
How many baths do you take in one day? (Normally) How many baths do you think Mozambicans take? I go from living in the woods in Montana getting a shower once every 2 weeks to living in Mozambique where I take 2 baths every day. My family here would prefer I take 3…
No, it’s not just me and that I stink! (I would hope I’m not that bad) The culture here is to take a bath before each meal. And yes, it’s a bath… a bucket bath. No running water. You put water in a basin, use a can or pitcher and dump the water on yourself. Then you soap up and rinse off. I actually only took one bath this past Sunday, and I felt like something was wrong… J
So, when I say no running water, I mean no running water for the toilet, shower, sink, kitchen…for nothing. Every other day we go fetch water from nearby. We have 2 water drums in our house, one in the kitchen and on in the bathroom. It’s pretty easy to get used to. The toilet is a manual flush at my house. By manual, I mean you put a good amount of water in a bucket, you take that water and you dump the water in the toilet and it flushes. Might have to do it a couple times for the major ones…J
I guess it’s time to talk about my house and family and what I’m actually doing right now here in Mozambique besides for bathing. Until the first of December, I am in training staying with a host family in Namaacha (just outside of Maputo). It’s a really cute house and a great family. The house is made of stones and cement and reminds me of Bedrock. (No, I do not live with the Flintstones). Our kitchen is incredibly small; it has a propane stove and a couple basins to do the dishes. It barely fits my mama and I. In the backyard we have a garden, and we have a veranda in the front. I have 2 brothers here. Ada, who is 7, and Isly, who is 3. My papa is only home about once a month because he actually teaches English in another city. (I’ll explain how the education thing works on a later date.) My papa is actually 19 days younger than me… but I still call him papa… My mama is 29 and really pretty. Oh yeah, my papa is tall…taller than me. J I have an avo (grandma) that lives with us also. She is my papa’s mother. I feel bad because I get a room to myself and all of them share one room… a requirement made by Peace Corps to the families when the families were interviewed and chosen to host us.
During these 10 weeks, I am learning Portuguese… lots and lots of Portuguese. Here’s an awkward story of mine: So, Peace Corps brought us up to Namaacha on a Saturday morning, but our first class wasn’t until Monday. That means we all spent the whole weekend with a family we just met and they don’t speak English and I don’t speak Portuguese. Charades is a fun game… J
It’s been awesome to have kids at my house. And they love to dance! And they love to see me try to dance the Mozambican style. Every time I come home, Isly yells for me, “Mana Amanda. Mana Amanda!” (which means Big Sister Amanda). Ada one day was dancing in the house and kind of making the music noises for “Smooth Criminal” by Michael Jackson. I got my Ipod out and my little speakers and played the song. His eyes lit up and for the next hour, Ada and Isly danced like Michael Jackson, with the whole crotch grab and everything (you’ll have to see the video… Isly’s crotch grab include grabbing the top of his pant and just pulling them up!) J
Life in Mozambique has definitely been fun. There are a lot of different norms, but I feel good here. Portuguese is coming along…slowly. I’ve actually had some deeper conversations with my family here. They don’t quite understand why I don’t want kids or my own and that being an aunt is great… J My mama continues to say “when you have kids…”blah blah blah
Overall, I’m loving it so far. I’m soaking everything in, the sun, the people, the experience.
