BLOG (27 June 2011) “Ooh, eeeh, ooh, ah, ah. Ting tang, wolla wolla bing bang!”
Carandeiro = witch doctor
The female dorm at my school apparently has “spirits.” And these “spirits” possess some of the girls some of the nights. This is definitely something new to me, and I canºt just say itºs not true. I donºt personally believe in spirits myself, but what I have seen of this is something quite strange to my eyes.
I sometimes go and visit the girls in the dorms, joking around with them. They love to help me with my Shitzwa. I donºt see these “possessive spirits” every time I go and visit, but I did once and it was different. Two girls were “possessed”, their bodies convulsing in ways that it looked like they couldnºt control. Other girls would try to hold them back or down so they wouldnºt harm themselves. Their eyes are kind of rolled back in their heads. They can walk and they try to get out of the “captivity” of the other girls. At first, I thought it was a kind of joke, but it continued. Some of the girls would laugh some, but it was still a serious matter. I didnºt know what to do. Itºs apparently somewhat common and just happens some nights.
On the Friday night before I was heading out for my vacation, our schoolºs winter break, Senhora Carla told me to come to the girlsº dorm. There was something going on. I didnºt quite understand. She looked like she was playing some pretend drums with her hands, so I thought maybe a festa (party)? I locked up my house and followed her and Professor Guambe. Coming from the entrance of the school was a group from the community. The group included the secretary of Makwakwa, the traditional chief of Makwakwa, some other men of the community and a few women. Some held rattles and rattled them behind the “head man”, the carandeiro. The carandeiro was dressed in a capalana around his waist and one tied like a cape on his shoulders. He also had a dread wig on his head.
I fell in line with the group and followed the carandeiro, not really knowing what was going on. The carandeiro stood in front of the girlºs dorm. The girls were all sitting inside in the hallway along the wall. There were 3 girls “possessed” this night. He walked in to the dorm, turned around and came back out. He did some changing around a tree/bush right outside the dorm. As he circled around the bush, he came around the other side as a mean dog on all 4ºs, growling and barking. He came back to the door to the dorm and growled. Some girls got scared and ran off in the other direction. He crawled into the hallway and made his way to the “possessed” girls.
I believe he was trying to “scare” the “spirits” out of them. He also took a black brush thing and would “brush” them. This seemed to work for the most part. One girl, though, remained “possessed.”
He crawled into one of the 3 bedrooms and sat in a corner. I kind of pushed into the room to see what was going on. He was talking, of course, everything is in Shitzwa, so I donºt really know whatºs being said. At one point, he wanted some water. I just stood at the door taking it all in. he eventually stood up to leave the room, and low and behold I was RIGHT in front of him. He got this really startled and scared look and told people in Shitzwa something. The other teachers/community members pulled me back into the crowd of the rest of them. They said he was scared of me, the mulungu. It was really funny and everyone was laughing about it.
He left the room and went to sit outside the back of the girlsº dorm. We all sat around him. At first there was people sitting between me and the carandeiro. But then he was telling people he needed wine and they needed to run to get it for him (Watsozuma!) Well, the person who “ran” to get him wine was the person sitting between the carandeiro and I. At first, he let this go, but apparently he couldnºt handle it anymore. I was “scaring” him still. No, I didnºt have to leave. He was letting me stay, but he pointed at somebody else and told him he had to sit in front of me. When he moved, me “mandar-ed” (ordered) another person to block me from his site. I needed a “wall” between him and I for him to continue on with his business.
There was talk about me, the mulungu. I just kept hearing the word “mulungu” being used. I was trying to imagine what they were saying about me. Was I the cause of the “spirits” in the dorm? Was he going to put a “curse” on me? I had a lot of time to imagine… I started to think “Are they expecting me to do more for the community than I am even capable?” “Do I have these really high expectations from the community I donºt know if I can actually do?” I donºt know what was really being said, but the feeling I got during this was the community on my side, defending me or sticking up for me in some way or another. The administrator at me school speaks real good English and heºll tell me more later, but he said something about me and pregnant. Another guy from the community kind of laughing and said to me “Be careful with the carandeiro” Am I going to be the Virgin Mandy? Haha Iºll have to inform you the rest of that part later…
More things were going on, I am not sure what, but I had to leave. The girls said I could come in their room, so I snuck in there. Somebody in the community came over and said “no, you need to go to your house. You can come back later…” Okay.
Itºs not over…
The next morning I was heading out for my vacation, heading to the tallest mountain…of Mozambique. So, I locked up my house and took my bag out to the road and began my wait for a boleia (hitch) to the vila (village). The carandeiro group came back to the school in the morning. They happened to come by where I was standing. Another man, not the carandeiro, was heading this up…he had a table knife hanging from some red yarn/string and was using it like a metal detector. He walked around the front of the school and stopped in front of a tree and started digging a hole with a spoon and water. The hole was maybe 5 inches in diameter and he probably went 10 inches deep. He stuck his hand down in the muddy hole, searched around a bit with his fingers, and came up with a plastic tube thingamajiggy. He put it on a wood block and they put some salt on it and on the hole. Then he took his “detector” and walked around again. He found another spot maybe a foot in front of the first spot, dug and found a little stick with a band tied around it. They put some salt on it and then took a walk around the school grounds.
When this was happening in front of the school with the digging and such, the carandeiro from the night before, now dressed in everyday clothes, came up to me, shook my hand quite energetically and was smiling and said something I did not know at all. I just nodded and smiled, as you would when you have no clue what is being said. Again, the same guy from the community last night, just smiled and laughed and told me to be careful with him…
It will be interesting to find out when I return to school if the carandeiro and artifact digging has helped the problem of “spirits” around the school.
When I was sharing this story with me friend, she said she has read something about this before. What she read was that this happens sometimes when a girl gets pregnant and doesnºt know it. She gets morning sickness and doesnºt know whatºs going on with her body. Then it kind of creates a hysteria in the dorm where the girls truly think they are possessed by a “spirit” of some sort.
It was definitely something really neat to experience and be a part of. Iºm thankful I was able to be a part of it. I may not understand it, but itºs something….
Lakdjflakdjfºalkdjfºaldskjfºaldskfj
BLOG (29 June 2010) Mountain 2 Mountain Mozambique
Yes, Mozambique does have some mountains, and yes, I want to climb them. Why? I donºt know, but I have begun my Mountain 2 Mountain Mozambique trek. Of course, this is done in intervals, when I have my holidays.
Have I told you how flat Mozambique is in the south? Perhaps about the flatness of my whole province of Inhambane? Well, itºs pretty flat.
For this holiday/vacation, I had much longer time, so I decided to get to the mountains. I went to the first set of mountains closest to me, the Chimanimani Mountains, just south of Chimoio in the Manica Province. The Chimanimani Mountains have the tallest mountain in Mozambique. Coming in at 2436 meters high, Mount Binga is not the easiest to climb.
It really only takes 2 days to climb Binga, but I wanted more days out in the woods. So, I added 6 more days. It was exactly what I needed.
DAY 1: Leave Chimoio, hitch to Sussendenga, get dropped off in the middle of nowhere, hike 4 km into to woods to Portao.
- When camping, I assume no showers or baths, just remain dirty. The rangers at Portao actually heated up water for me so I could “tomar banho”. It felt great.
- I made a pseudo-lasagna but with spaghetti noodles over the campfire…okay, so maybe I should call it spaghetti, but with mozzarella cheese melted in it. It was good stuff.
- They provided me a warm blanket because I didnºt bring a sleeping bag (Iºm in Africa, it doesnºt get cold, right? NOT!
DAY 2: Make myself oatmeal for breakfast, pack up my heavy’ass pack, hike 27 km (16 miles) to Chikokwe, pass out as soon as I could
- Tomar banhos are very important to Mozambicans, apparently even when hiking in the woods. They heated me up some water in the morning to tomar banho again. I couldnºt get myself to do it! (It was cold outside!)
- My pack had to be the heaviest itºs just about ever been! It definitely would fall in the overweight side at the airport… I kept thinking, was there anything I could have done without? (I think it was probably extra food…but nobody wants to go hungry on the mountains)
- 27 km is a long day with a HEAVY pack, just in case you wanted to know
DAY 3: Decide to do stuff today; hike to the Permaculture place nearby, give myself a self-tour because nobodyºs actually there until the following Monday, relax by the fire enjoying the mountainous view around me.
- I wasnºt sure if I was going to do anything today because the 27km day before was a killer, but I decided to do it and not be so lazy
- It was a relaxing, easy hike. I wasnºt sure when to speak Portuguese and when to speak English because I was literally so close/on the Zimbabwean border
- Dinner was pizza and it was AMAZING!
DAY 4: Have a good breakfast, wait for my guide for the day, go to a pretty waterfall, swim in the FREEZING COLD water at the waterfall, hike to a gorge, hike to find some rock paintings, see another gorge, and back to camp to relax and read
- I had to jump in the water at the waterfall. It was extremely cold! Before I got in, I double checked it had no crocodiles or hippos!
- I normally donºt like getting guides, but I would never have found these things in the woods. I would have been a lost Mandy in Africa…
- It was another relaxing day
DAY 5: Head back, found a guide in the little village, made it to the first campsite of Mt. Binga
- The 7km to the village was amazingly fast. Those 7 km on the way to Chikokwe were the WORST, but this time no problem. I think it helps to be going down more than up…
- I say monkeys! A whole family of monkeys were nearby at one point. They werenºt near as pretty as the Langhorns in India, but they were some monkeys in Mozambique (Itºs funny, the Reese monkeys in India were a pain, waking me up in the morning, being aggressive, etc… but I miss having monkeys around!)
- To find the guide: When I got to the big house along the way, I asked them about a guide to take me up to the top of Binga. They walked me down to the heart of the village, which had a tiny secondary school that had a roof, but no walls and probably had about 6 or 7 students. They ordered one student to come out and take me to the house where I could find a guide. I followed him down some path that eventually came to a house. The gut there actually spoke English. I wrote my name down in a book and the student who took me to the house was going to be my guide (if the teacher said okay). So we walked back out to the school, got permission, and her went to pack up a small bag with food for himself. (This all surprised me, not because of the small paths and the kid being my guide, but that it was more organized, or ``official``: putting my name down in a book, having a set price for the guide, asking permission for the kid to miss school. Itºs not the normal Mozambican style…)
- The first campsite of Binga was right next to a nice river or stream. It was very pretty and very soothing sounding.
- How the kid/guide knew the correct way through the elephant grass was amazing. The path started with overgrown elephant grass and we to almost scaling hillsides (it was a path there, but a pretty skinny – definitely have to watch the footing!)
DAY 6: Pack bag, hide it behind a rock, hike up Binga, lunch on top, hike down Binga, hike out of the woods and to the road, find the bush campsite, see 2 big piles of elephant poop, freak myself out duing the night.
- Itºs granted that hiking up a mountain is going to be hard. Binga has the difficulty of steepness and hard footing. The big wads of grass on the mountain side as we were climbing made footing a very frustrating thing. It made me glad my ankles are naturally pretty strong because otherwise I would have had some twisted ankles since I was only in my Chacoºs. I also live at sea level, where I would normally consider 2436 meters (about 8000ft) not too awfully hight, I think I was feeling the little bit of thinner air.
- We did make it to the top (of course, my guide had no problems, he probably could have run it). We ate our lunch at the top…it was pretty cold. Unfortunately, my camera decided to run out of battery juice. I managed to get 3 of the scenic views but when I tried to get a picture of me sitting on the monument rock to mark the top, it wouldnºt work…
- Hiking was slow at first going down. That grass was a pain again. But we made it down to our campsite, grabbled our bags and made it back out to the road. I hurried on my way to find the bush campsite (I thought I remembered it being not too far – I was right). I set up camp and got all that done just before dark. But as I was setting up, I saw 2 giant elephant poop piles. Umm, wild elephants nearby? The poop wasnºt fresh, but it did tell me elephants come here, and they can be very territorial. I freaked myself out (apparently for no real reason). I kept thinking, “Iºm going to be trampled by elephants in the night.” For some reason, I felt “safer” in my tent… thatºs why I rushed in their so quickly after setting up… (I found out later that if elephants come, they wouldnºt have messed with the tent and would have left me alone.)
DAY 7: No elephants visited me during the night, hiked to Portao and stayed there the night.
- There was no new elephant poop piles, so no visits during the night. Itºs funny how daylight can make one feel safer. I wasnºt really worried about the elephants once the sun came up…
- The hike back to Portao wasn’t too bad. My pack was definitely lighter than when coming in (I did a good job eating!)
- Dinner was chips and guacamole! YUM!
DAY 8: Only 4 km
- I made it to the road to catch a hitch way before I thought I would. I had to glance back and double check I was really there.
- I made it back to Chimoio by 13h
BLOG (13 July 2011) Caterpillar for Lunch?
Today was a day of nothing… but at the same time, a day of many things. So, before I continue on, I have a puppy. I named him Kurula, which means peace in the local language here of Shitzwa. So now I have the other teachers and students always saying `Peace` around campus. “Kurula, Kurula. Onde esta Kurula?” “Como esta Kurula?” etc. Even today some little kids in the community were shouting “Kurula! Kurula!” as I was walking back to school with Kurula in my arms. Why was Kurula off of school grounds? Well, read on because that how the day became many things…
On Wednesdays I donºt have any classes. Last semester I had a homeroom but they took it away from me. I guess I wasnºt doing my job there. They wanted me to do more than play games and joke with them? I am kind of sad about it, though. They are, too… at least thatºs what they tell me. Anyways, during homeroom time, or some before, I went to hang out outside the classrooms. I just had to get out of the house. I get stuck inside sometimes getting things I need/want to do for the kids or for me. Anyways, I hung out with them for a while until someone called me back over to my house.
So I go to my house. Itºs the guy from Mabote who comes out to play basketball with me and the kids. (I forget his name, but our school has the only basketball court in Mabote.) He stopped by to let me know that he just saw my dog outside the school grounds. I have actually been afraid that Kurula would do this…but he had been so good for the past 3 days, staying at my house or at my two next door neighbors. I think heºs getting pretty comfortable with his new home here. Today heºs been chasing chickens and strolling into Makwakwa.
If he was older, I would feel more comfortable just letting him stroll to Makwakwa, but heºs only about 6 weeks. So, of course, I go run out and try to find him. I ask at the houses on the way. One house, where there are 8 wives said they saw him, but he wasnºt there any more. They told me the direction where he ran off to, but before I could go, they wanted me to try something. They had a bucket full of these LARGE caterpillars. They were black and yellow and probably 2 inches in length, and a centimeter wide. They had them in a bucket, crawling around, and in a pot crawling around. No, I did not have to try one that was alive. (Not sure, I could have… but I probably would have if they asked… it would be a challenge…) It took me a couple tries where I put it close to my mouth and then pulled it away, which of course caused laughs. I ate it in one bite. Julie, my site mate here in Mabote, apparently ate it in 2 bites because she described the middle. It was a kind of salty taste, charcoaled. It wasnºt bad, but itºs not something I would go searching through the mato (bush) to find!
Howºs that kid song go? “I eat worms, long thin slimy ones. Short fat juicy ones…” Something like that…
BLOG (21 July 2011) We are Family
I was to go say itºs been a long time since I have sitten down at a table and eaten dinner as a family, but then I realized that would be a lie. My last group of kids the summer I spent in Montana, we began to make it a point to all sit together as a family and say our thanks. Then my 2 months in Namaacha, we pretty much always ate together as a family, even sometimes in front of the TV like my family in America would sometimes do. And then of course, when I go back to Evansville to my aunt and uncleºs, we usually eat together around the table. And also with my sister. Man, I would have been a huge liar saying itºs been a long time! In Shitzwa, I would be called a `wahemba`. Luckily I didnºt actually say it…
Instead I dragged on about nothing and you probably read it all! Haha Sucker!
But to the point here. Not only do I see the kids all the time in and out of school (which I wasnºt so sure about at first, but itºs been pretty good overall) I think I have adopted or have somehow made a little family. I pretty much have been eating alone. I had a couple kids over for dinner at the end of last semester to treat them for having the best attitude in class.
Well, last night, one of those 2 students mentioned above, Adelino, brought some lettuce to my house and chives. Heºs been keeping stuff at my house so that nobody else will steal his things/food in the dorm. (I actually have a lot of kids´ things in my house… apparently my communal house now…) He started making a salad. I wasnºt quite sure if it was for me and dinner also. At first I just figured he wanted a kitchen to use, no big deal. Nope, he made the salad and brought the dinner from the school cafeteria over and we had dinner. It was Adelino, another kid, Mauro, and I. Sweet. I didnºt have to cook anything!
I am not sure how all this has happened. It just campe about so fast when the semester started back up, my house becoming basically a communal house. I keep their bags for safekeeping where they come everyday to get food from their bags. I also hide their telephone or even money in my house.
Last semester, hardly anybody really entered my house. Now itºs different. Itºs kind of nice because it gives more life to my house. Not all of them come in and cook. That has just been Adelino and Mauro, which happened again tonight. I like salads, so itºs all good with me. But, now, looking back at this, itºs like I have a whole bunch of kids of my own. Iºm the house with games, with photos on the wall to look at, books on the table to be curious about, etc.
So, there it is I have a HUGE family in Makwakwa.
BLOG (27 July 2011) Building Blocks
Whoever knew that a simple game like Jenga (aka Takaradi) would provide SO much entertainment? Jengaºs a pretty fun game anyways, but I think in America we sometimes begin to take so many things for granted. I never even think about the small, simple things, like Jenga. Itºs just 45 wooden, rectangular blocks.
At first we would play the game normally and if you lose, you had to do something like run around the school, give somebody a high five, climb something. We still do that sometimes, sometimes they build different “buildings” to play the game, and sometimes they just play around with the blocks.
Itºs so nice to see something so simple being enjoyed, and by kids who arenºt that young, ages ranging from 13-18. Point, donºt forget to appreciate what is around you. I know I do. Even while Iºm here in Africa with less than I might have in America, I am sure I fail to appreciate everything. Wait, read that last sentence… “Iºm here in Africa with less that I might have in America” haha That would imply that I actually had money in America. I guess I do have a nice bike waiting for me … thatºs about it that might be worth more than what I have here. At least here I actually have a home of my own!
BLOG (27 July 2011) Dad is Black?
Dad lied to us! He never told us, his family, he was actually black!
So, I have some pictures on my wall for my “Aunt Janet wall” and the kids love to look at them and ask me about them. I unfortunately only have one of my dad (hint: I would love more on my wall if you happen to have pics of my dad!)
If you look at the Nurrenbern side of the family, they seem to tan pretty easily, not so much on the burning. I, and my sister, both were a bit unfortunate in this and we got the Marshall skin of fair and burns, burns, burns in the sun. I may look like my father in features, but not so much in skin color if you think of it like I just explained.
Gees, eh pah, what am I even trying to say in this blog? A kid was looking at my pictures the other day. When they asked about the picture of dad, I proudly said, “O meu pae:” (“my dad”). She called me a mentira (liar) because he has such dark skin. “Why are you so white and your dad black?”
So, apparently, all these years thinking Iºm 100% white, Iºm actually part black. WOOHOO!!! I knew there was a reason I felt Africa was like my home!
BLOG (28 July 2011) Entertainment in the Mato
I donºt want to lie to you, I do get rather bored here sometimes. Iºm so glad I brought so many projects with m. Well, mostly sewing, but some others also. But even with all my projects, I still get bored. Donºt read this the wrong way because I also have quite a lot of fun here also. My life has always been revolved around games and sports, but I feel itºs even more so here in Makwakwa. I wanted to write a blog about some of the “creative” ways to keep myself preoccupied and not just staring at a wall all day:
*Seed game: When we actually have fruits and these fruits we happen to have have seeds you need to spit out (okay, so tangerines and watermelons), my site mate and I made a game of trying to hit a student by flicking the seeds in a certain way (we never hit him and I donºt think he even knew what we were trying to do). (This works great with watermelon seeds, you squeeze the seed between your fingers and it flicks pretty good.) When I donºt have Julie or a student to aim for, I put a coconut shell in front of me and try to spit the tangerine seeds into the shell.
*My students love the game of Jenga, but we play where you have to do something if you make it fall. For example, run a lap around the teachersº houses, or climb a lone wall in my backyard, or sing for 10 seconds, or dance in the middle of the courtyard, or do 5 cartwheels consecutively, etc.
* Pictionary using a stick to draw in the dirt (This started as Julie and I when we are waiting for a car to go by but I have now started it with some students when Iºm standing around waiting for them)
* Outlining body shapes with your shadow in the sand
*Ninja
*Dance (sometimes to no music, or in other words, music in your head)
* Iºve introduced thumb war and the quick reaction hand slap game
* Journal/Blog writing and trying to think of what to write about to take up my time
*Drawing randomly in the dirt when waiting for a car (I wait for cars a LOT) or drawing on a chalkboard in a classroom
* Sewing by hand pants, skirts, quilt blocks, blindfolds, hackey sacs, fixing clothes that have ripped
* Handstands, in my house, too. (Iºve made my dining room/living room be more open so I can use a wall to help me with my handstands – my goal is to hold a handstand like my cousins can.)
*Self guitar lessons (So far I have 3 Little Birds by Bob Marley and most of Walk the Line by Johnny Cash) (at least I think they sound all right. I donºt do any performances yet.)
*Experimenting with cooking and baking (but not too much because that means lighting my charcoal stove)
*Cleaning my house (I clean more often here than I even have anywhere else. I mop like once every week to week and a half!)
Studying Shitzwa, making a Shitzwa/Portuguese notebook/dictionary. . . (which I really actually should be studying more…)
*Laundry days (and laundry is by hand), planning my lessons for the week, grocery runs (which could be an all day affair depending on transportation)
*Being at the basketball court and playing Gato, 32, Around the World, or a game of basketball itself (sometimes football or volleyball and sometimes running around with the rugby ball).
*Now my house has just about become a communal house with the students, so students are there QUITE A LOT (right now, Iºm actually trying to somewhat hide and to not be in my house. . . actually quite a difficult task when itºs a boarding school that you live at. Iºm hiding behind a building looking into the mato, trying not to be noticed, but being the person who sticks out so much, Iºm noticed…)
So, off of that “entertainment” section and just a side note before I close this up…
I know I mentioned in another blog how everybody seems to know everything I do. I even somehow have little kids in Mabote (14 km away) calling me Teacher Mandy. It makes me wonder what makes me more noticeable – the fact Iºm white in a crowd of black faces or that I do so many things so differently. I know itºs both, but if I was black, would I stick out as much as I do now? Just something to think about…
BLOG (15 August 2011) To flush a toilet…
Whoever thought I would actually prefer a latrine over a porcelain that flushes?
Whoever thought that flushing a toilet could take so much work?
Okay, so itºs not that hard to flush my toilet, but it takes a lot more time than just pulling a chain or pushing a handle down, especially when it comes to poop. And it really makes me see how much a waste of water a toilet uses.
So, I do have a inside bathroom with a porcelain toilet and sink and even a showerhead. Basically my house looks like it has running water…but it doesnºt. When I pee and poop, I have to go fill my bucket of water and manually pour it down my toilet. To get a full, clean flush it usually takes a full bucket. If you donºt use a full bucket and only half ass the flush, you actually waste more water. Itºs one whole bucket and about the speed of the pour. I try to save water and do the whole “if itºs yellow, let it mellow.” But for some reason my pee here smells pretty bad. Go figure when itºs here in Africa we really need to save water. The whole song “Bless the rains down in Africa,” by Toto Africa totally has the point. But a couple drops of bleach sometimes helps the smell. And now I am only using water that contains salt to flush my toilet (reason for this is long and complicated) and I thin kthat makes my toilet give off some kind of bad scent.
And when itºs poop… sometimes one flush isnºt enough. I have to go fill my bucket yet again in order to get all the chunks down. Makes me glad I donºt get sick too much and I donºt go on the Mozambican diet having diarrhea. I am usually pretty regular with nice, wholesome poops.
Are you done reading about my bowel movements? Good, because speaking of the devil, I might be going on that diet right now. Go figure…
BLOG (15 September 2011) A Long 3 Weeks That Went By Way Too Fast….
Iºm not going to lie, itºs not too common for me to get visitors anywhere I go. Iºm not trying to point my fingers at anybody, I just go pretty far away and donºt stay in one place for very long. I had one friend come visit me in Montana, Jenny, that was awesome! And I just had Julie and Shannon come all the way to Mozambique to visit me!
I hitched all the way down to Manhica, which is 2 hours before getting to Maputo, and 2 volunteers are there. Their students had me play goalie for their football game. Either Iºm always put as goalie because nobody else wants to be there… or because Iºm always one of the bigger players so I take up more the goal? If only they knew I sucked at soccer before they put me in to play a game! But, to give myself some credit, I didnºt do too awfully bad. It was nice to see Barbara and Annie again and to see their site, and to drink some beers.
As you all pretty well know, or Iºm guessing you know, Iºm a penny pincher on where and when I spend my money, so to save money, I spent the whole evening at the airport playing solitaire and reading. Shannon and Julie came in around 10 at night, and Julie was already sick…
Okay, let me givie a tiny background. Shannon and Julie made a big trip of this and spent 3 weeks prior to Mozambique in Tanzania visiting Shannonºs old site when she was in the Peace Corps. In other words, the first day for them in Mozambique was in the hospital for Julie while Shannon and I got ice cream and donuts. Luckily it was a bacterial infection of some sort and Cipro fixed the problem, so the next day we made our way to Tofu, a surfing beach. And, yes, I made them do the hitchhiking thing. To tell you the truth, they were willing, especially because the next option was chapas, little vans that should “legally” only fit 13 or 14 passengers, but stuff up to 20 or more. You might think “there is no way more can fit in here.” But, yet, the chapa stops and more pile up inside, literally pile up.
Tofu was a great place to go. We spent 2 nights there. The waves weren’t the best for surfing, but on my beginning foam board, I was able to catch some white water!! Woohoo! Go, Mandy! We played in the sand, also. I think the first thing we made was a big sand castle. Then we transformed that into sand chairs. Then it became our landing mat and jumping spot for fun tumbling. Then it became a sweet as turtle. It stayed as a turtle.
The neatest thing about Tofu, though, was that first morning when we just sat on the beach deciding on the surfing situation, I think we saw a billion whales jumping and playing way out in the water. They definitely got some height. It kind of reminded me of a time I had in Fiji when I was on a little catamaran boat (looked like a pirate ship) and we were returning back to land and thousands of dolphins (okay, maybe only in the 100s) were in all directions playing, jumping, and doing flips, racing our boat, etc. Another absolutely amazing site. These whales weren’t doing flips. I guess whales doing flips in the air would have been the only thing to top this off!
Next stop: Vilanculos. Drama beforehand: A little. We got this boleia from what seemed to be a nice man. We all 3 sat in the back of his truck. He even stopped and offered us a coke, which we thankfully declined. When we arrived in Massinga, the distance he was going, Julie and Shannon thought maybe it would be nice to offer him a little something, so I was going to give him 50 meticais. He turned into an asshole unfortunately. He wouldn’t take the 50, said it wasn’t enough and then tried to charge us 300. Usually on hitches, if they end up charging, it’s only what a chapa would cost, which is about 1 meticai for every kilometer. We went about 50 km, so for 3 of us it would be 150 mets. When he said 300 (which he said because we are mulungus), I put the 50 away and we walked away. What an asshole. Then he followed us, saying we need to pay, etc etc. He pulled in an outsider, so I told this guy what was really happening and how much it should actually cost and he confirmed my price. Then more people came and crowded around. The community was on our side.
It’s not quite over. They did the math in the dirt. It’s actually 55 a piece, so Shannon said 175 (which is actually wrong), but he did the math and put 115. I tried writing in a 7 to make 175 to be honest, and he changed it back to a 1. So, we gave him 120 and walked away. Then he realized he was an idiot and came after us again. We gave him 55 more and went on our way to get bread. What I learned from this lesson: to make sure it’s actually a “boleia” before getting in the car and going.
Vilanculos: Last bit of relaxing before heading out to Makwakwa. When the tide was down we went out swimming. Camila, my friend who lives right on the beach there, has an awesome dog named Nala, and she loves swimming. So, Nala swam with us. No sand turtles this time, but we had a sand throwing contest. I might have won…but don’t know for sure.
I couldn’t believe our amazing luck for our travel day to get to Makwakwa. It was the best, fastest return for me ever. We hitched out of Vil to Mapanhane, the Mabote turnoff. We maybe waited an hour, if that for the truck to go to Mabote. I usually am waiting a good 2,3,4, or even 5 hours to get out of Mapinhane. It wasn’t a fast drive, but it wasn’t extremely slow either. I got a drunk guy in the back with me. He started off as a funny drunk, but as he continued to take swigs of his big bottle of whiskey, he became a pretty sloppy drunk by the end of the trip. He was trying to punch all of us around him. His punch, though, reminded me of a night out with 2 buddies, Chelsea and Ginger, and Ginger doing a wasted punch to defend Chelsea and I and our character…haha J In other words, it was easy to grab his arm and hold it down so he couldn’t punch in my direction anymore.
As soon as we got into Mabote, around 14h, I think, we were going to head straight to the market to buy some food for my home, but my director was driving by and to the school. And due to the lack of transportation to Makwakwa, we got in and went to school. I had beans and rice at the house…
As soon as we arrived in Makwakwa we were rushed to change our clothes and head out to the football field. It was professors versus students. Again, I was put in as goalie… They probably need to be rethinking the idea of wanting me to play. No big deal.
The kids I left my house key with cleaned my house, so it was awesome to come back to a mopped and cleaned house. But when 3 people come to live in a one bedroom place, it all just exploded. Julie and Shannon got my bed and room and I slept out in my living room/dining room/sewing room/dance floor/exercise area.
Julie and Shannon came to my 2 afternoon classes on Monday and we all played Ninja and then Ultimate Rugby. The kids loved it. They asked me why Shannon’s hair was brunette and Julie’s blonde. They called Shannon the short one (She’s rather little!) They had crushes on them, etc. etc.
I took them into my little community of Makwakwa to buy some noodles and the few things I can get out here. I taught them the greetings in Shitzwa which was funny to hear them use “Gicheelee” “Oovakeelei”. Sometimes they got it right. Then everyday, they took strolls into town as I stayed at school and taught, planned, graded, or played games with the kids. I think they had a good time.
Apparently the week they were here was a week more exciting anyways. We had the Ministry of Education of Mozambique out to visit (I think). So, I learned a dance and chant to do with a group to welcome the visitors. I’m chanting, but I don’t know what I’m chanting. It’s something in Shitzwa, so I move my mouth and I think I’m saying what they are saying…
We had a LOT of beans that week, and bread, and wine, and pop.
My 2 favorite things of the week: Dancing on the tower and mulungus versus mulandis basketball game. (Mulandi = black person)
Dancing on the tower:
We made dinner (by we, I mean Shannon and Julie made dinner) and we packed it up and brought it to the top of the tower. Dinner on the tower with wine as the sun is setting. Pretty sweet. And, of course, we made a scene, as being with Julie and Shannon would do. The kids didn’t follow us up right away. We were able to enjoy our dinner somewhat quietly…even though the kids were yelling up at us in conversations. Then students came and joined us. We brought the music, too, so what ended up happening? We had a dance party. We weren’t really drunk, but I think the kids thought we were… and as Shannon kept saying up there… her little chant “Ruining Mandy’s reputation!” The dance party didn’t end after coming down from the tower. We continued in my backyard, bring a few more people into the mix. Overall, a very fun night, but sometimes something great can lead to something not so good. Read about that in my “Corporal Punishment” blog entry…
Mulungus vs. Mulandis Basketball:
As Julie put it, this will probably be the only time 3 white girls will beat 3 black guys in a game of basketball. Of course, when I tell people, I wouldn’t want to mention that it was in Africa where basketball isn’t as big… but that’s besides the point… It was a fun 3 on 3 halfcourt game and kicked their asses! Then that afternoon they (my boys) had our first basketball game as a team versus a team I was able to ask to have put together from Mabote. I talked to a guy in Mabote to make a basketball team there, so now we have some opponents. Our next game is this Saturday. Unfortunately, we lost our first game 26-28 in 2 over times.
Other things in Makwakwa: On Wednesday we decided to run/bike out to Mabote and get some veggies (tomatoes and onions!) We stayed with Julie, somehow squishing 4 of us in her one room little bamboo house. We set up Julie’s tent and 2 of us slept in there, the other 2 on the bed. So, yes, we slept in a tent inside a house. But we didn’t want any charging spiders in our face in the middle of the night. The season of charging spiders is returning!
We had to do a charcoal run. I still can’t keep it on my head without my hands there to hold it, but my goal is to do that before leaving Africa! Meaning I can’t leave here until that is checked off my list!
All my students, well, maybe not ALL, want to marry Julie or Shannon. It was kind of nice because it took some of that pressure off me. But, low and behold, it has returned…
To leave Makwakwa, we hiked out. Julie likes to blame me for this, but she hasn’t quite learned from her mistakes. She hiked with me in Costa Rica, 2 times: in Corcovado and on Chirripo. And both those times she came to the realization she doesn’t really like hiking. It’s not like I forced us to walk to Mabote. I gave choices, but they both thought, “Sure, why not?” When we were almost to Mabote, a huge semi drove by and we got a ride for maybe the kilometer or so that was left to go. Then we squished in Julie’s place again.
We got to Maputo in 2 days. We got a straight boleia from Massinga to Maputo, but it was pretty slow in a semi-truck. But, the fun thing about this one was we felt like illegal immigrants being smuggled to Maputo. At every “police check” we had to close the curtains and “hide” so the cops wouldn’t be tempted to really want to stop the truck and ask the driver for a bribe (that’s basically what a “police check” is) Only one time did the police have the truck stop. And this is where we felt the illegal immigrant thing. We were just sitting in the back, the curtain still shut. A policeman pulled the curtain open. I think Julie pretended to be sleeping so she could play “dumb”. Shannon and I just stared at him like a deer in headlights. All was fine. He just asked us for our passports, checked them, and handed them back. I’m not sure if the driver paid a bribe or not, but we continued on our way.
The African Games are like the Olympics but solely for African countries. I believe it happens only every 4 years, and just our luck, they were in Mozambique this year and while we were in Maputo for those 2 days. Unfortunately, the schedule of games, where the games are, etc. etc. was not easily available to find. So, with Julie and Shannon, we only got to see cycling. We sat down at a restaurant and ate while watching a cyclist go by here and there. It was a different feel. I guess it’s another cultural difference here, but I would assume the city and people would be pretty consumed with the games. Cheering, crowded at games, and so on. But, no. Cyclists would cycle by on the road (which was blocked off for the race) but nobody would be cheering. They just went around with their everyday life it seemed. Some games we watched on the TV and the stadium would barely have people there. High school games in America would have more fans in the stands! (After Julie and Shannon were gone, I went back and was able to find tennis and handball to watch. That was great! Still small crowds, though)
And that was it. They came and they left. It was a long 3 weeks that just went by way to fast! I waited so excitedly for them to come, it’s hard to believe it’s already over and gone! Who is next?
BLOG (23 September 2011) Begging, where do I stand?
I feel sorry for people who beg. I really do. They have had unfortunate circumstances that have led them to begging, but in the US those unfortunate circumstances usually are their own doing. They drink all their money, they use all their money on drugs. No, life’s not always easy, but whatever happens doesn’t mean you need to drink yourself into a stupor everyday versus using that money for food so you have energy to work and earn money and make your life sustainable and more worth living. No, this isn’t the case of all, and yes, I’m being pretty judgemental of people who beg in the US. Giving them food is a much better option than money because you never know what they will spend the money on. I’m probably sounding like a terrible person…
But, it’s kind of giving a background on how I feel in begging situations. By giving somebody who is begging something, you are reinforcing the behavior of begging so it also gives that person less incentive to go find a real job, etc. Maybe I’m being too hypocritical because in a way I was kind of in a position of homeless and poor with no job, living on couches of friends, who were incredibly nice to let me stay. But I never actually sat on the street with my hands out begging. I spent my days searching all the job list sites and applying to thousands of jobs a day, biking around and applying to almost any job around the area I was at, picking up odd jobs of outdoor education/leadership, etc, etc. I guess I am putting myself on a pedestal of homelessness and I shouldn’t be doing that at all because it was no better than any other beggar out there…Just that I had friends with a good heart and a lot of patience.
So, why are these thoughts coming up while I’m here in Africa, in Mozambique? Because the recurring mental fight I have in my head of how to deal with begging, and “I’m hungry” and “estou a pedir…” (“I am asking/begging for…”) When people ask me for something, I automatically get turned off by this, and maybe I shouldn’t be so harsh about it. Here are some examples:
*Estou a pedir…a pen.
*Estou a pedir…my guitar.
*Estou a pedier…bread
*Estou a pedir…my rugby ball
*Estou a pedir…a quilt block I made
*Estou a pedir…a photo of my friends/family I have on the wall
*Estou a pedir…the flip flops on my feet.
*Estou a pedir…the capalana (surong) I am wearing
*Estou a pedir…me to make them a pair of pants/dress/something
*Estou a pedir…my bookbag
*Estou a pedir…my precious food I can’t get in Mozambique
*Estou a pedir…my Nalgene waterbottle
*Estou a pedir…my camera
*Estou a pedir…my anklets (that only can come off if you cut them)
*Estou a pedir…my Ipod and speakers and headphones
*Estou a pedir…my notebook I’m using at the moment
*Estou a pedir…cake, oil, sugar, salt
Even some girl estou a pedir-ed a tampon of Julie’s when she didn’t even know what it was. This is life here.
Some of the things are easy to say no to. No, you can’t have my guitar or my Ipod or the pictures of MY friends. Sometimes the things they beg for seems like “Can I have anything of my own?” Somethings it feels fine to be like, “Yes, you can have some salt or sugar or oil, but not my precious banana.” Because they are making their own food. Yes, when many come to ask for a little bit of salt or a little bit of oil or some sugar, it all disappears rather fast. At one point, I think my students used more of my oil than I did.
But some things I find hard to say no, but I know that I can’t really say yes. There are 180 students here, and probably 180 students have asked to eat my food or asked me for some cake. I don’t have the resources to give this to 180 students. And once I say yes to something, they all come running and then saying no is 100 times harder because why did I give it to the other person? I’ve decided to pick the top 2 people from each homeroom who have the best attendance, participation, and attitude for my class and they get a piece of cake. So I have a reason and I try to make it different people every quarter, but even this gets to be difficult and makes me wonder if it’s worth doing.
One of the hardest things to face is the “Estou come fome” (I am hungry). It’s one of the ways of them asking for my food. Again, 180 I can’t feed. And it’s not only the students. Its some of the working ladies here also. We do our greetings, how are you, etc. etc. and the next thing out of her mouth is “I am hungry.” If I gave everybody that told me they were hungry food, this is what would happen: they would continue to ask me for food telling me they are hungry and then more would come flocking to my door. Writing this down makes me feel like I’m a terrible person, but it’s happened with other little things I’ve given and so on. I’ve experimented with what would happen…
Being white has never been so hard, and it’s a great learning experience. I think I mentioned in another blog how since I’m white, I have money growing out of my skin. It’s obvious. Have you not seen it? It’s discrimination put in another direction and it’s even a bigger eye opener to the how the world’s history still keeps the lines of discrimination lingering. Being white automatically makes me rich (and somehow automatically makes me pretty…maybe that goes with the richness), and since I’m rich, why can’t I feed everybody? Why can’t I give everything that they “estou a pedir” for? Why can’t I be in 3 places at once? Why can’t I be Superwoman?
Sometimes it just makes you want to SCREAM!
Perhaps that’s what I’m missing here, a place of complete solitude where if I wanted to scream, I could. Where if I wanted to dance outside in my underwear in the rain, I could. Where if I wanted some privacy, I could. Where if I wanted to sprawl out on the ground and cloud watch by myself, I could (without anybody bothering me). We don’t always get what we want, though. That’s life.
But I still love it here. I love the community feel. I love the energy of the kids. I love the joking around. I love that if I need/want people around, they are all right there. I love that I can be silly and they still talk to me and that some will join me in my silliness. I love trying to communicate with the little kids in the community who have no clue what I’m saying when I try to talk to them in Portuguese so we settle for body language and the few words I know in Shitzwa. I love that we are all learning from each other. I love that life is much simpler here. I love that even the little things are truly appreciated. I love that even just an old bike rim or tire can entertain kids for hours on end. I love that everyday I learn or experience something new, good or bad.
I am reading this book called “A Walk in the Woods” by Bill Bryson. It’s a great book about his thoughts and experiences while attempting to thru-hike the Appalachian Trail. He writes about the differences in living in what we commonly know as “America” and having little to no contact with this world. It gives him an outside perspective of looking at America now. One day I would love to hike the AT, but le me get back on track here, whatever track that is…
It’s fun to read the book because a lot of his feelings and thoughs and the way he is living, etc. I can relate to living here. No, I don’t have to worry about bears coming to attack me, but that part reminds me of Montana and how sometimes we awoke to fresh bear scat not too far from our campsite. But the similarities are in the way of living and how when we get to a more “civilized” area, we feel like we should pile up on so many things we miss, which you realize what you really miss and what’s not so important in life. Not to say I’ve never done that before. My summer in Montana was basically like that to a certain extent. And I spent a year in India which had some of those differences in living style. Each of these experiences are at different levels, but all something great to learn from and to appreciate.
I am not sure where all my thoughts are going now. I guess mostly to say that this whole experience is great, hard, an eyeopner, awesome, difficult, and liberating, all while making me want to scream sometimes. Sometimes it makes me question myself really hard if I’m actually a good person or really just selfish. Sometimes I find myself thinking, “What would dad do?” or “What would dad think of what I am doing? Proud? Disappointed? Should be doing/giving more?”
Just a suggestion, if you ever do anything like this, a Peace Corps experience or something similar, don’t read “Mountains Beyond Mountains” or “3 Cups of Tea” because they just make you feel like a selfish piece of shit and that I should be doing more here. I had to put “3 Cups of Tea” down and discontinue reading. And I don’t normally put books down…
25 September 2011 Corporal Punishment
Obviously I grew up in a country where corporal punishment is not allowed. There was definitely no hitting the students at schools, and I definitely don’t believe hitting is the solution to any problem unless you are talking about “hitting” in rugby. But, in Mozambique, corporal punishment is allowed and expected. When they say “maintain discipline”, apparently that directly translates to “hit the students or anybody who is not following the rules.” No, I wasn’t hit…
If you have actually been reading all my blogs you’ll remember the long entry about Shannon and Julie’s visit and how we danced on top of the water tank at my school. Well to continue that story…with some history:
I’ve been climbing the water tower/tank here and there all year now to watch the sunset. I even have one blog that is a description of the sunset while I’m sitting up there…(I know, what a great blog…) I was told it was fine for me to go up there. I’ve even joked with administrator here that that is where we have to go to get cell reception and talk on the phone. And people obviously know I go up there on occasion. I’ve even seen kids up there before. Here and there, I had a student or 2 join me. I’ve seen a group up there without me before, etc. In my eyes, it was apparently NOT off limits.
Well, Julie, Shannon and I had our dinner up there, and little by little more students came up and joined us. They were a bit more scared, holding onto the center ladder or just laying on their stomachs. Great, that will keep them from doing anything stupid and falling. Our dinner turned into a dance party on the tower. Actually quite fun and one of my favorite thing we did here, as I mentioned in the other blog entry. This was Wednesday evening.
Thursday morning I had one early morning class and then we were going to hopefully get a boleia into Mabote. When I got back to the house, Julie and Shannon put the idea out to ride/run to Mabote, so we did. (Not the greatest idea in the long run because the sun at the hour we were out was a KILLER!)
Anyways, Thursday night we spent with Julie in Mabote, my sitemate. On Friday morning we ran/biked back to Makwakwa (and AMAZINGLY my water was RUNNING! And we could take an actual shower versus a bucket bath.) After we all 3 quickly took our amazing showers, I was told by one of my students that the administrator made the students (including this student) who climbed the tower swim in a giant mud puddle that is always there due to our generator and water pumping up. He made them swim in the dirty water and hit them with a stick. I am finding it pretty convenient that this “happened” to happen when I was not there, and he didn’t seem to even try to tell me Wednesday evening or Thursday morning before I left.
I tried to calmly go talk to him and I would appreciate in a case like this if I were talked to first since they were only on the tower because of me, that it was my fault. I would still like to believe I tried to not come off attacking him, but I’m probably being biased in my direction in this matter. We’ll just say it didn’t necessarily go over well and he showed me in his contract that part of his job is to “maintain discipline of the staff and students” I did consider swimming through the mud puddle on my own accord or standing in front of him and telling him to hit me like he hit the kids, but decided perhaps that was handling it a bit childish, so first thing I needed to do was cool down before I did something stupid and childish. I’m glad I had Julie and Shannon to talk to through this situation.
Something he pointed out in one of our heated arguments over the situation was we are not in America. We are in Mozambique. I may not like corporal punishment. I may not agree with it at all, but I am also not in America and don’t have much control over situations as so. I can put what I feel and believe out there so that it is known things don’t have to be done by hitting, but here in Mozambique, it’s part of their culture, part of their life. It may not be right in my eyes. I may hate even the idea of it. I may do what little I can to stop it from happening here, or at least in front of me and in my knowledge, but am I 100% correct in my thinking of corporal punishment? Nobody can be 100% correct about it. Perhaps it depends on the extent of iit also. I was spanked as a child, and if I ever had children, I would spank them for certain things also. We don’t do corporal punishment in America anymore, but look at the behavior of our kids. Are we necessarily doing things correctly either? America is great, but it’s no where even close to perfect. I don’t believe in hitting students at all, but I also don’t believe in using cell phones much or following every exact rule to the “T”.
I still hate the fact they were hit, that they were hit for my fault, and that I wasn’t talked to about the situation first, but I am not in America. I am in Mozambique…
Oh, and now the tank is fenced off…
30 September 2011 The Wheels on the Bus
Have I told you about our school “bus”? I don’t think I have and I definitely find it’s something worth mentioning. It’s one of those things that America and Africa view it differently.
So, first I’ll explain what our school bus is. It’s a flatbed truck, kind of the same length as a yellow school bus in the states. The back is completely open, no seats except in front with the driver. Of course, we have “seats”, though for some of us. We use the walls of the flatbed truck as our seats. But, of course, there’s not enough room for all of us on those seats, so depending on how many of us are on the back going to and from the village, depends on if we sit on the ground of the truck or stand.
We have 180 students. And then we have teachers, and then we have people in the community. As you have probably already guessed, we don’t fit them all on, but we sure as hell try. I’m lucky that when I want to go, I am not one that is left behind because I am a teacher and automatically am oh the “list” to go.
Sometimes I sit in the front. At first, I didn’t really want to because it was more fun to be in the back with the students, but I’m good with that now. If somebody gives me the front, I take it.
Other ways I have riddent the bus:
- Sitting on the wall “seat”
- Sitting on the ground of the truck
- Sitting on bags of flour or rice or laying on
- Standing squished between others and holding hands with anybody who will help me stay standing and not fall on top of people while we are driving down a bumpy ass road and the “bus” is swerving around bigger bumps, etc.
- Standing by myself with all the kids sitting around me and anchoring my feet (that way was actually great!)
- Standing and just trying to “surf” (when you don’t have waves…an ocean…water…you do what you can)
- In town when there was only a few of us on the back, I played Ninja with 2 other students as we moved through town
I think that’s about all the ways you can ride our “school bus”
Kids hop on and off the “bus” as it’s moving a little sometimes. Sometimes they’ll “ski” a little behind the bus as it’s first getting going. Sometimes when I’m sitting in the front, I’m handed a baby as the mama gets on the back (and the baby stays with me until we arrive).
I’ve gotten a little slash on my back when sitting on the wall and the “bus” slides across a branch. I’ve also pulled a person off a fight as we were moving pretty fast.
Would you see all this in America today? No way in hell would a school be allowed to even permit this happening, especially with a school car, etc. Do I think America makes things a little overblown sometimes? Yes. Do I think our “school bus” here is somewhat dangerous? Yes. Do I think because the Africans grow up in this manner, they’re not going to be dumb? Yes.
Sometimes, and this is just my view, not necessarily anybody else’s, but sometimes when we “baby” our babies so much, they don’t get the chance to learn. But, yes, there is a line between “babying” them and making sure they stay safe. If a baby falls into a pool, I’m not going to be like “Well, he/she should learn how to swim.” And leave him/her.
But as a kid grows, make sure they get all the experiences they can, good or bad. Experience is learning. Every rose has it’s thorn. You going to pick every last thorn so the kid will never prick themselves?
Wow, I think I just got really deep on this blog. Sorry.
2 October 2011 Becoming an asshole…
First thing, can I tell a student he was being an asshole? Because I did…
Okay, so can I call myself an asshole? Yep. Perhaps I’m reading it wrong, but sometimes I feel like I’m being an asshole. But, to defend myself, I’m trying to teach and make sure I’m being listened to.
I think some background is needed here. Mozambique is a developing country and the government among other things have its’ corruption. No, the American government isn’t great either and who really knows what goes on behind the scenes (*cough*cough* GWB’s election cough*cough*), but I at least like to believe that these kinds of things are somewhat controlled. Perhaps our president has a diamond plated toilet seat, but money still goes towards us Americans to a certain extent. Well, I’ve at least been receiving money from the government for a year and a half now. Here in Mozambique, corruption is obvious. The Mozambicans all know this and this filters down to each and every person. It’s a funny contrast here. There’s the corrupt of “to each their own” meaning you leave your clothes out, you may lose them from people stealing them. Or tomatoes and basil and cilantro in my garden is all taken while I as gone (and probably by my students). But I have also not had this “community” feel since I was growing up in my little community on the outskirts of Evansville, IN. They all help each other out, but then turn around and lie about things. Of course, it’s not absolutely EVERYBODY, but I can’t even keep my oranges in my kitchen anymore because one was taken right under my eyes.
I think my mind is all over the place with this, I guess it’s all something I see, and something I know that maybe I can help in some small, incremental way, and it’s something I’m becoming more and more passionate about.
I think you are hopefully understanding the big picture background here. I mean, somehow China has come in and is mining gold for themselves out of Mozambique land. Explain that one to me, and the fact that the Mozambicans haven’t seen any benefit from this.
Now, we’ll take the microscope and focus in on Escola Profissional de Mabote in a little community called Makwakwa. Good. Now let’s take it in a little more to games and sports here. Here are my observations:
- EVERY tiny rule is fought over
- Lots of fighting and negativity on the court/field
- Loyalty for your team is completely, almost 100% lacking. i.e. Whoever is winning is who they cheer for; or whenever our school is losing our soccer game, but maybe only 1 point, students will say “we are going to lose.”
- Honesty duing a game is hard to find many times. Somebody who even obviously touched the ball last before it goes out of bounds will say it’s their ball. Points in games are altered to benefit themselves. I don’t know how many times I have to try to keep their honesty in check
- Respect for their own teammates baffles me. One little mistake the own teammate makes is blown way out of proportion. Or when I make teams, I put somebody on their team and they, without hiding it one iota, roll their eyes and say, “No! Why??”
- Respect for the other team. They literally say, when somebody on the other team does something, may it be good or bad, depending on who’s eyes you are staring through sometimes, they will say “Nao sabe nada.” (Translated as He/She knows nothing.) That they don’t know how to play. This is said out loud for all to hear.
- Respect for the ref. This kind of goes along with the first thing I mentioned. They fight over EVERY rule. They like to fight the ref. They like to make their own calls during a game. Even while the game is continued on, a few will stop and just fight with the ref over some call or some missed call.
- When winning, they rub it in the other team’s face
- Football (soccer) is top, number 1, pretty much the sole thing here and it should ace anything else, basketball, volleyball gets trumped sometimes on our one court we can play
- The idea of commitment is a bit lost.
- The idea of breaking down a skill and “learning” how to play takes patience that they seem to lack (and an attention span)
- Arrogance. Playing solo and not using the team. Trying to be “fancy” versus “smart”. Ball hogs.
- Lack of communication on the court/field and then blaming somebody else when mistakes are made
- Not listening to the rules, or thinking they know the rules when they don’t know them all.
I think that basically it is. I understand I’m in a different culture here, so that makes things a bit different as far as how things work, but cultural difference of not, character of a person should all come from a similar basis. I don’t necessarily believe in the 10 commandments myself, but they do have something good to say, “do unto others as you would want done unto you.”
Or even better, take this quote:
“We did not weave the web of life; we are merely a strand on it. Whatever we do to the web, we do to ourselves.” Chief Seattle, leader of the Suquamish tribe)
As I’ve told you before, I am now the PE teacher at my school here, and I listed some challenges. They definitely still apply. It also means I even see all this so much more and is probably what is kind of making me an asshole sometimes. I’m glad I’m the PE teacher. I feel like I’m actually here and helping in the best way that I can and it’s teaching me also.
I have been starting every class with a word of the day, a bit more sophisticated than the PeeWee Herman style. I give them a word and some questions and they discuss this in their teams I have given them. Then we discuss it as a group. So far we have talked about: respect, honesty, sportspersonship, commitment, and trust. Even if they are just joking when they say things outside of class, at least I know they know the word. I don’t know how many times I hear the word “honesty” said because I’m in proximity. Or “good game” because that was part of sportspersonship. They’re still learning when to use “good game”, but they are using it.
I think in the beginning I was trying to understand what was going on. Language, culture, how things work, etc. Now that I’ve been here for a year, I have a better feel and I can be more adamant perhaps. It hardly seems like 2 years is even enough to do anything in Peace Corps.
So, what I’m saying is I am becoming more of an “asshole” about things. The kids seem to still like me. Obviously I’m not an “asshole” all the time, just when they are being jerks either to each other or in my general direction. What triggered it probably has to do with what I mentioned about knowing what was/is really going on around me and the fact that I’m just getting sick and tired of how they regularly treat each other on and off the court/field. Then it’s not only to each other, but to equipment also. Every single day I have to remind them not to kick the volleyball or basketball. I made, sewed 35 head band things to mark teams and to use as blindfolds. I have 3 homerooms I cannot use them with anymore cause one went missing from those classes. One person ruined that for me and the rest of the class who was honest.
I can kick people out of class, and I have, more recently I have done this more, but there is no immediate reprecution for this, no immediate discipline. Their grade obviously goes down, but there’s no principal’s office, no calling the parents. No detentions or demerits. And I’m not a teacher who hits the students. And that is probably what makes it all a bit more difficult for me.
I have been seeing some improvement. I have 6 homerooms total. Two of them who were comlete “assholes” as I’ll call them have become way better. Even just this past week, I’ve felt better with 1 or 2 more of the homerooms *knock on wood.*
Can I make it another year here? Will I actually help develop the character of at least 1, maybe even 2 students? Or am I looking at things wrong because I’m just an outsider pressuring what I think? Is what I’m doing worth anything and stick around or die when I leave? Questions that will probably not be answered or at least I’ll never know the answers to. I’ll just continue to think in my head that I will affect the lives of at least 1 student everywhere I go in a good way. Or at least affect more students positively that I affect negatively.
Perhaps this is a time I should start thinking and thanking those in my life who have positively influenced me. If I actually know you, and you know me, thank-you for being a part of my life.
7 October 2011 How Old Am I?
It’s easier to remember the year I was born and do the math to know exactly how old I am versus knowing my age. 2011 minus 1983 is 21, right? I am going to pull what my roommate in college did on her 28th birthday and it’s my 21st birthday! WOOHOO!!! Party time! Age is all in the eye of the beholder, right? 21 seems to long ago… I mean, I can’t believe I’m not 21…
So questions I am asking myself on my birthday:
- What was the best thing that happened in my 27th year>
All of my 27th year has been spent in Mozambique. This is the first time I’ve been away from America for a full year. It’s actually been more than a year now…just over. But the best thing would have to be (there’s so many to choose from!) Julie and Shannon’s visit. But I would also have to say getting the kids to like me and all the dancing I do with them
- What was the worst?
I’m not going to lie, living in someone else’s house in a different culture and under “pretty strict” rules of pc was pretty tough, but I absolutely love my Mozambican family,so that would not be the worst thing at all. Maybe my face blowing up because of the ccashew alcoholic drink, but actually, I really like that story. It would have to be the argument I had with the administrator and about the corporal punishment he applied due to my fault and dancing on the tower.
- Funniest?
I am trying to think of the things that have just made me laugh to no end. There’s been so many things that have made me laugh. When the chicken came in my house, flew on my counter, entered again, flew against the wall, all until a student grabbed it by the wings. I don’t know why exactly, but it made me laugh so hard I had tears on my eyes. Writing it now doesn’t seem as funny. Shannon and Julie were there also. I think they screamed. This last Saturday night was awesome, too. It definitely cracked my up. Read about it in the next blog, it was a “dance-off”. I did just have a kid tell me today that I’m a person that laughs a lot.
- Saddest?
I am a pretty sad site when I am playing goalie, and they still always put me there…
- Hardest?
I have to mention 2 here because they are both equally hard for me.
1.) When my students especially tell me they are hungry. I don’t think they realize it’s that hard on me. Some of them even now tell me they are just joking with me, but it’s still equally hard on my mental state because I know they are hungry, and the streetkids in Mabote, too. They may say they personally are joking, but the reality is there in my face and all around me, in my community and in Mabote, people go to bed hungry and wake up hungry. And I know I don’t have the capacity to feel all the hungry people. And if they become dependent on begging me for bread, etc. I leave in a year or 2 from this place. Where does that leave them? I know I am making excuses and it makes me feel like a terrible person, but I also know that when I give out to one reaching hand, I get a million more in my face. Not only can I not afford a million more hands, but that make me even feel worse inside.
2.) What is also hard is missing so much of the growing years of my 3 nieces. I try to look at pictures as they grow as much as possible, but I’m missing such big parts in their lives. I just hope they remember me when I return and I never become the “estranged” aunt or relative.
28 years of life under my belt…I mean 21.
It is hard to believe I am 28. Where did all the years go, right? But at the same time, I have done a lot in those 28 years. The stories, memories, and experiences I have had have been many and I’m definitely grateful for all of those. I wouldn’t go back and change anything that I have done. It would obviously change where and who I am today.
So, I’m sorry, maybe this blog is more meant for me and I should be writing it in my journal, but my journal is full and perhaps some of you can recall some of these stories and smile a bit, or get an even deeper insite of Mandy. Feel free to ask questions if you really feel like it.
- Bikini contest in my underwear at a bar in Indianapolis while there for a PE conference
- Need to take a taxi back to our hotel in Indianapolis after a night at the bars and some guy who started a fight with one of our guys and then following our taxi home and us seeing a gun on the dashboard of the Monte Carlo behind us (don’t worry, that ended up being a bouncer from the bar making sure we made it safely.)
- Winning the $400 for being the most green on St. Patty’s Day (athletic take in place of a sports bra and food coloring in mouth I am sure what sealed it off)
- Seeing a cage in a bar and dancing in it or on the bar itself and getting a free shot because of it.
- Need I say more than Nash Bash? One in particular would be mistletoe…
- Breaking my ankle in New Zealand and wheeling me to the bar on a cart we found behind an apartment of my friends.
- Entering a hackey sac tournament when in New Zealand
- Dressing as a man and going out to the bars while in Port Elizabeth, South Africa (and looking almost identical to the guy I was dressing as)
- Hitchhiking. I hitchhiked through New Zealand, but my first hitch had to be the craziest because I got lucky a semi truck was driving by on this isolated gravel road where the wind was so strong I couldn’t even ride my bike, my actual mode of transportation at that point.
- Rafting with the 6th graders at my school in India. Every time we got to any spot they said I could get in the water, I did and swam to other boats aand pulled other kids in.
- Hiking Dodittal in India.
