All the teachers out there know how hectic the end of the trimester gets at school. This holds true at little rural high schools out in Africa as well. This one got even more action packed with our trip into Malawi to get our visitors from America and all the extra activities we wanted to do with them, in addition to Janet throwing everything together for our school science fair, and all the normal grading and last minute make-up work, and faculty meetings that always happen at this time of the year. To streamline grading this time around, we did all our work on Excel, using our ailing little computer lab previous Peace Corps Volunteers had setup at our school. Teachers were amazaed to see that these virus infected machines could do with a couple clicks of the mouse all the calculations they literally took days to do, manually punching in every students' scores on little Chinese middle school type calculators. The beauty of our method became even more evident when, during the very last faculty meeting, we read through the new education law in effect since May 14 of this year. Since communication is very limited, we had just received a photocopy of the new law, and since we only had one copy, our faculty meeting consisted of almost four hous of reading the document aloud, which was over 100 articles and more than 30 typed pages, and taking notes of the important changes. The high drama ocurred when it was announced that student tests would now make up 60% of trimester grades and other work only 40%, reversing the way grades had previously been calculated. Since this law had come into effect at the beginning of the trimester, it meant all of us teachers would have to re-tabulate student grades. For us it just meant editing a couple of equations on Excel, whereas for our colleagues it meant another two days with their little Casios. I think there will be some interest in the workshop we're planning to give next trimester on using Excel spreadsheets for grading!
Monday, July 26, 2010
Friday, July 23, 2010
It Takes a Village
Guest blogger Tim, back for Number 2. "Janeti, Luka, Janeti, Luka..."
called out in children's voices as we walk any of the many paths
criss-crossing Zobue. Before coming here, I must admit I'd wondered
"Are these two highly-educated Americans doing the right thing with
their lives?" Not any more: seeing lives fully lived is soothing to
the soul.
The light breeze and verdant vegetation reminds me of Hawaii, the red
soil and architecture of Mexico. My psyche feels like I'm 7 years old
again, growing up in the 50s. Awakening to happy noises of children
playing, music mixing with cooking smells, all seemingly absorbed
through my skin. TV has been replaced by vistas from the front porch,
BBC radio, reading and crossword puzzles. We even have morning yoga,
called the outside squat latrine. Neighbors and students drop by
anytime, Janet and Luc stop whatever they're doing and welcome them.
Think Kramer (of Seinfeld) when you hear the name Romão appearing
unannounced with a smile that lights up the room. We walk every day to
street- side vendors and meals have been delicious. On Sunday, 2 PCVs,
Loud Claire and Alexandra spent the night and enjoyed the Mozambican
barbecue in our honor, cooked by neighbors Marcelina and Marta. We
shredded coconut on a special bench and ground peanuts on a huge
pilão, while kids played '35', (a cross between pickle and dodgeball)
next door. Their enthusiasm and joy playing together seems lost to our
video/iphone world. Last night, a young student came to the house to
study French. She has no textbook or dictionary of her own, and using
my headlamp, completed her translation with Janet's books. I contrast
this to my math students who have paper and online textbooks and still
do no homework. The line between who is rich and who is poor is
certainly a matter of perspective.
To experience Janet and Luc so comfortable, so competent, and
contributing so much gives me great pride that they are living a
vision created by one of my heroes, JFK.
called out in children's voices as we walk any of the many paths
criss-crossing Zobue. Before coming here, I must admit I'd wondered
"Are these two highly-educated Americans doing the right thing with
their lives?" Not any more: seeing lives fully lived is soothing to
the soul.
The light breeze and verdant vegetation reminds me of Hawaii, the red
soil and architecture of Mexico. My psyche feels like I'm 7 years old
again, growing up in the 50s. Awakening to happy noises of children
playing, music mixing with cooking smells, all seemingly absorbed
through my skin. TV has been replaced by vistas from the front porch,
BBC radio, reading and crossword puzzles. We even have morning yoga,
called the outside squat latrine. Neighbors and students drop by
anytime, Janet and Luc stop whatever they're doing and welcome them.
Think Kramer (of Seinfeld) when you hear the name Romão appearing
unannounced with a smile that lights up the room. We walk every day to
street- side vendors and meals have been delicious. On Sunday, 2 PCVs,
Loud Claire and Alexandra spent the night and enjoyed the Mozambican
barbecue in our honor, cooked by neighbors Marcelina and Marta. We
shredded coconut on a special bench and ground peanuts on a huge
pilão, while kids played '35', (a cross between pickle and dodgeball)
next door. Their enthusiasm and joy playing together seems lost to our
video/iphone world. Last night, a young student came to the house to
study French. She has no textbook or dictionary of her own, and using
my headlamp, completed her translation with Janet's books. I contrast
this to my math students who have paper and online textbooks and still
do no homework. The line between who is rich and who is poor is
certainly a matter of perspective.
To experience Janet and Luc so comfortable, so competent, and
contributing so much gives me great pride that they are living a
vision created by one of my heroes, JFK.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Nyau on the Prowl
One of our neighbors died during finals period. He was old and sick,
so it wasn't a community tragedy like some of the losses we've
experienced so far, but apparently he was high-ranking within the Nyau
community, the Chichewa brotherhood of spirit channelers, so this made
his funeral rituals a little different than what we've come to expect.
Immediately after the man's passing drums began to sound, calling all
the Nyaus to our neighborhood, and the rhythmic beating didn't stop
until the actual burial two day later. The Nyau didn't come to perform
their dances in their beautiful costumes in the relatively orderly
fashion as they do on public holiday performances, but to prowl our
narrow streets with their more grotesque monster costumes, covered in
mud and striking anyone slow to flee their presence. The Nyau terrify
most of our students under any circumstances, so having them loose on
the community in mass made proctoring finals a little challenging, as
people burst into our rooms sporadically seeking shelter from the men
possessed by beast spirits, and students tried to duck under their
desks to avoid being spotted from the windows. Janet found an old
drunk Chewa woman on our porch where she had passed out while hiding.
Our neighbors were reluctant to let Janet run, but she went anyway
although she had to evacuate the trail several times as Nyau stormed
by. At night the incessant sounding of the drums and the high pitched
yelps of the Nyau speaking in trance as animals made it difficult to
sleep and left us a little reluctant to leave the safety of our house
to use the latrine with all those machete wielding man/animals
rampaging about. We imagined the terror early explorers and
missionaries must have felt during such events and how these
encounters have continued to affect the continent's reputation. We
never felt ourselves in any real danger, but these types of
experiences are the ones that really remind you that you're in Africa.
so it wasn't a community tragedy like some of the losses we've
experienced so far, but apparently he was high-ranking within the Nyau
community, the Chichewa brotherhood of spirit channelers, so this made
his funeral rituals a little different than what we've come to expect.
Immediately after the man's passing drums began to sound, calling all
the Nyaus to our neighborhood, and the rhythmic beating didn't stop
until the actual burial two day later. The Nyau didn't come to perform
their dances in their beautiful costumes in the relatively orderly
fashion as they do on public holiday performances, but to prowl our
narrow streets with their more grotesque monster costumes, covered in
mud and striking anyone slow to flee their presence. The Nyau terrify
most of our students under any circumstances, so having them loose on
the community in mass made proctoring finals a little challenging, as
people burst into our rooms sporadically seeking shelter from the men
possessed by beast spirits, and students tried to duck under their
desks to avoid being spotted from the windows. Janet found an old
drunk Chewa woman on our porch where she had passed out while hiding.
Our neighbors were reluctant to let Janet run, but she went anyway
although she had to evacuate the trail several times as Nyau stormed
by. At night the incessant sounding of the drums and the high pitched
yelps of the Nyau speaking in trance as animals made it difficult to
sleep and left us a little reluctant to leave the safety of our house
to use the latrine with all those machete wielding man/animals
rampaging about. We imagined the terror early explorers and
missionaries must have felt during such events and how these
encounters have continued to affect the continent's reputation. We
never felt ourselves in any real danger, but these types of
experiences are the ones that really remind you that you're in Africa.
Christmas in July
In the months leading up to our visit from America Janet created and
revised several lists of items unattainable in Africa to request from
our families. These translated into one very bulky and heavy duffle
that her mom and Tim hauled halfway around the world and Luc lugged
the final leg from Lilongwe to our site, on and off various crowed
buses/mini-buses, and shouldered the last stretch up the dirt road to
our house - we took the long way, crossing our stream over the bridge
instead of chancing the tree trunks we normally use. We had not peaked
at the loot kept under travel lock during the trip, so after a small
belated birthday celebration, we tore into the bounty. One of the
items we used immediately on our shaggetti dinner - the parmeseam
cheese Janet had been fantasizing about since her previous shipment
disappeared in the Tete post office. Luc got shoes from home to
replace the boots he's worn every day for the past nine months, which
have developed holes in both soles, and various items of new clothes.
Janet also revamped her wardrobe, thanks in part to a mini Janet
(mom)/Pauline shopping spree. We both got Spain shirts direct from
World Cup South Africa, which are a hit at school. Various loved ones
sent cards and American dollars we'll have to think of some way to
treat ourselves with. We also got new pictures of our nephew Neal who
looks so much bigger now, selections from the David/Marcos DVD
collection, and travel speakers so our noise can compete with the
general Mozambique cacophony. We'll be eating dried blueberries,
walnuts, almonds, quinoa, couscous, chocolate, trail mix, and the
assorted American candies which stuffed Melinda's surprise Mozambique
flag piñata, and Janet will be cutting Luc's Puyol-like shaggy hair
with the new clippers. With all the wrapping paper and shiny new toys,
it felt like Christmas, but just like the real Christmas, it was not
so much the actual presents, but having part of our family together
and feeling all the love sent from America that overwhelmed us with
joy.
revised several lists of items unattainable in Africa to request from
our families. These translated into one very bulky and heavy duffle
that her mom and Tim hauled halfway around the world and Luc lugged
the final leg from Lilongwe to our site, on and off various crowed
buses/mini-buses, and shouldered the last stretch up the dirt road to
our house - we took the long way, crossing our stream over the bridge
instead of chancing the tree trunks we normally use. We had not peaked
at the loot kept under travel lock during the trip, so after a small
belated birthday celebration, we tore into the bounty. One of the
items we used immediately on our shaggetti dinner - the parmeseam
cheese Janet had been fantasizing about since her previous shipment
disappeared in the Tete post office. Luc got shoes from home to
replace the boots he's worn every day for the past nine months, which
have developed holes in both soles, and various items of new clothes.
Janet also revamped her wardrobe, thanks in part to a mini Janet
(mom)/Pauline shopping spree. We both got Spain shirts direct from
World Cup South Africa, which are a hit at school. Various loved ones
sent cards and American dollars we'll have to think of some way to
treat ourselves with. We also got new pictures of our nephew Neal who
looks so much bigger now, selections from the David/Marcos DVD
collection, and travel speakers so our noise can compete with the
general Mozambique cacophony. We'll be eating dried blueberries,
walnuts, almonds, quinoa, couscous, chocolate, trail mix, and the
assorted American candies which stuffed Melinda's surprise Mozambique
flag piñata, and Janet will be cutting Luc's Puyol-like shaggy hair
with the new clippers. With all the wrapping paper and shiny new toys,
it felt like Christmas, but just like the real Christmas, it was not
so much the actual presents, but having part of our family together
and feeling all the love sent from America that overwhelmed us with
joy.
Monday, July 19, 2010
No ATM - No worries!
Bom dia, from guest blogger, Tim. He whose 6'2" head has more dings on
it than a used surfboard. Osadandala (no worries). Going in, I was
quite nervous about this trip (reading Paul Theroux's Dark Star Safari
didn't help); then So. African Airlines - pampered, big hug from Janet
- welcomed, Luc's groundedness - calmed, delivering Janet A's (Luc's
mom) cookies - connected, and opening Melinda's Mozambique birthday
piñata - celebrated. A few times in my life I've been fortunate to
trek to special places ahead of commercialization; Hanalei in '74,
Cabo San Lucas in '81, and now Lake Malawi in '010. Cabañas 20 feet
from the water, strolling the village with people erupting in
unbridled joy every time Luc or Janet spoke Chewa, kayaking with
aquarium fish and diving eagles, cold beer in the afternoon, young boy
band drumming "welcome to Malawi" at sunset, traditional dugout canoes
ringing the horizon with lanterns for night fishing under African
Southern Cross heavens. All embraced by contagious, life-affirming
smiles. Welcome to Malawi - the warm heart of Africa. Signing off in
Haiku:
Crowded bus stop then
Harmonies glorious song
Mariposas soar
it than a used surfboard. Osadandala (no worries). Going in, I was
quite nervous about this trip (reading Paul Theroux's Dark Star Safari
didn't help); then So. African Airlines - pampered, big hug from Janet
- welcomed, Luc's groundedness - calmed, delivering Janet A's (Luc's
mom) cookies - connected, and opening Melinda's Mozambique birthday
piñata - celebrated. A few times in my life I've been fortunate to
trek to special places ahead of commercialization; Hanalei in '74,
Cabo San Lucas in '81, and now Lake Malawi in '010. Cabañas 20 feet
from the water, strolling the village with people erupting in
unbridled joy every time Luc or Janet spoke Chewa, kayaking with
aquarium fish and diving eagles, cold beer in the afternoon, young boy
band drumming "welcome to Malawi" at sunset, traditional dugout canoes
ringing the horizon with lanterns for night fishing under African
Southern Cross heavens. All embraced by contagious, life-affirming
smiles. Welcome to Malawi - the warm heart of Africa. Signing off in
Haiku:
Crowded bus stop then
Harmonies glorious song
Mariposas soar
Saturday, July 17, 2010
World Cup Review
Pride and energy have gripped the entire continent as we celebrated the World Cup; what a privilege to experience this world event here on African soil. Being half Spanish we had a particular interest in the tournament's outcome, and lucky us, the Furia Roja won the whole thing, not without much some stress, with so many wins coming on goals deep in the second half, or in overtime in the case of the final. The teachers at our school claimed we had an unfair advantage with two national teams representing us on the world stage. Since Mozambique failed to qualify, our colleagues pulled for the various African sides, especially Ghana when they beat USA. Just one student joined us in cheering on the Red, White, and Blue in that match. He said he was so grateful to Obama for sending him a French teacher that he wanted to wave our American flag during the game, despite the jeers from his fellow Africans. We all made lots of noise as they battled it out, and
everyone congratulated Janet, covered in Obama paraphenalia, on our country's good showing. The teachers would have their turn to be heart broken in even more dramatic fashion in Ghana's loss to Uraguay after failing to convert a last minute penalty. Most games started at 20:30 for us, which is past bed time in our rural community. We weren't the only ones caught snoozing through half time or some of the slower moments of game play soccer is prone to; our vice-principal would just roll his beanie down over his eyes and ask us to wake him for any goals. It was special how sport brought up together every night. The morning after the final match children's voices woke us as they relived the excitement; we recognized the names of the Spanish stars peppering their animated Chichewa and imagined the scene playing out in different languages and dialects on every continent around the world. So after nonstop soccer for a month, we're in a bit of withdrawal from
waka waka and all the vuvuzelas, but as Clifford, our most avid teacher says, Premier League starts August 15!
everyone congratulated Janet, covered in Obama paraphenalia, on our country's good showing. The teachers would have their turn to be heart broken in even more dramatic fashion in Ghana's loss to Uraguay after failing to convert a last minute penalty. Most games started at 20:30 for us, which is past bed time in our rural community. We weren't the only ones caught snoozing through half time or some of the slower moments of game play soccer is prone to; our vice-principal would just roll his beanie down over his eyes and ask us to wake him for any goals. It was special how sport brought up together every night. The morning after the final match children's voices woke us as they relived the excitement; we recognized the names of the Spanish stars peppering their animated Chichewa and imagined the scene playing out in different languages and dialects on every continent around the world. So after nonstop soccer for a month, we're in a bit of withdrawal from
waka waka and all the vuvuzelas, but as Clifford, our most avid teacher says, Premier League starts August 15!
Welcome to Africa
Since we had permission to spend the night outside of Mozambique and our students were still busy with other teachers' finals, we decided to make a quick stop at Lake Malawi on our way back to site from the airport so that Janet's parents, who had traveled from so far away could see this marvel of Africa. Actually, us having been so busy with teaching and other work in site meant it would be our first time too. Luckily after nine months of coping with public transport on this continent we have grown savvy to the nuanced challenges of boarding/descending from crowded buses, making sure no luggage disappears, negotiating the correct price for each segment, and accurately estimating when vehicles will actually depart. Not even the oversized duffle full of American goods would slow us down. The journey was an adventure for our guests, including plenty of cramming, buying lots of snacks through the window at our various stops, some group singing and praying,
and one segment in an open-back truck sitting on large sacks of sugar and boxes of soap. But it was worth it, emerging from the African scrub landscape, studded with majestic baobobs and mud hut villages, to finally see that great body of water and experience some of that same exhilaration Dr Livingstone must have felt all those years ago. We went kayaking and saw some of those colorful cyclid fish that make the lake the most biodiverse body of fresh water in the world, and some large eagles that were catching and eating those fish. We slept in bamboo cabanas on the beach and ate pizza overlooking the water. We also met some interesting characters, like the man bicycling around the world, the white Malawian raising crocodiles to sell to Italian shoe manufacturers, the former volunteer coming back to her site for the first time in 8 years, lots of expats and world cup spill overs, as well as many friendly locals (as well as 2 bitter locals who harassed
us for not buying their curios or boat services). What an introduction to Africa!
and one segment in an open-back truck sitting on large sacks of sugar and boxes of soap. But it was worth it, emerging from the African scrub landscape, studded with majestic baobobs and mud hut villages, to finally see that great body of water and experience some of that same exhilaration Dr Livingstone must have felt all those years ago. We went kayaking and saw some of those colorful cyclid fish that make the lake the most biodiverse body of fresh water in the world, and some large eagles that were catching and eating those fish. We slept in bamboo cabanas on the beach and ate pizza overlooking the water. We also met some interesting characters, like the man bicycling around the world, the white Malawian raising crocodiles to sell to Italian shoe manufacturers, the former volunteer coming back to her site for the first time in 8 years, lots of expats and world cup spill overs, as well as many friendly locals (as well as 2 bitter locals who harassed
us for not buying their curios or boat services). What an introduction to Africa!
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Receiving Janet's Parents
Our nearest international airport is in Lilongwe, so we had to travel to Lilongwe to receive Janet's mom and stepdad. Getting to the small national capital was a breeze thanks to a direct hitch we got at the border from a young German expat who answered all of our requests with the phrase 'no problems'. Unfortunately the airport is 25 kms out, on the opposite side of town. At 4000 Kwacha ($25), over 10% of our monthly stipend and over twice as much as the 250 km trip from site, Luc decided a taxi ride was out of a Peace Corps budget. So, despite discouragement from the Malawi volunteers, we decided to take our chances with public transport. Janet seriously regretted this decision halfway out of town past Lilongwe's small industrial zone, across from a large and very fragrant tobacco leaf processing plant, after being dropped off by one mini-bus and getting off a second after ten minutes of not going anywhere. She had a small anxiety attack (not too far
from Madonna's school for girls) at the prospect of not being there to meet her parents who had traveled so far to be with us. Luckily for Luc, who had been more keen on the affordable route, a friendly ride going straight to the airport materialized in our moment of desperation, and we made it to the arrivals hall seconds before Melinda and Tim walked out. At under one tenth the cost of a taxi, it was within our our financial means, although Janet insists the monetary price doesn't accurately reflect the cost to her soul. Needless to say, we took a taxi back into town.
from Madonna's school for girls) at the prospect of not being there to meet her parents who had traveled so far to be with us. Luckily for Luc, who had been more keen on the affordable route, a friendly ride going straight to the airport materialized in our moment of desperation, and we made it to the arrivals hall seconds before Melinda and Tim walked out. At under one tenth the cost of a taxi, it was within our our financial means, although Janet insists the monetary price doesn't accurately reflect the cost to her soul. Needless to say, we took a taxi back into town.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Mom and Tim are here!
We're happy to report that Janet's mom and stepdad, Tim, have arrived safely in Africa for our vacation. We're all safe and healthy and having fun. More stories soon!
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
A Sunny Anniversary
The sun is shining again here in Mozambique and we are in cheery
spirits. July 4th came and went without any ado, us being the only
Americans here. We were a little jealous of the Malawi volunteers who
all got to celebrate together at the US embassy, but Moz is too big,
with its volunteers too spread out, to make that practical. We tried
not to think about all the folks back home barbecuing and watching
fireworks to celebrate our nation's birthday. To make up for an
uneventful July 4th, we celebrated July 5th in style, marking the
second anniversary of our wedding. People here are very interested in
the fact that we are formally married, since most couples here just
live together without any legal recognition of their union. We went
out to our fanciest/only restaurant, but since it doesn't get much
business, we pre-ordered our meals at lunchtime and came back later
for dinner. They set up a special table for us out in the gazebo, with
romantic views overlooking the rolling green hills and mountains
glowing at sunset. Janet got roast chicken and french fries, her
favorite, and Luc was tempted to try the gazelle steak on offer, but
reconsidered since it was probably poached from the nearby forest
protected area in Malawi, and as development workers we shouldn't
support the bush meat industry. So Luc ordered bean stew instead, his
favorite. After dinner we exchanged anniversary cards we had secretly
made for each other, Luc's written in Chichewa 'Ndimakonda inu,' and
Janet's a video montage on the laptop with photos of our lives
together, set to our wedding song. It was a very happy occasion for us
as we reflected on how many adventures we have had so far and how
lucky we are to be together serving in far away Africa.
spirits. July 4th came and went without any ado, us being the only
Americans here. We were a little jealous of the Malawi volunteers who
all got to celebrate together at the US embassy, but Moz is too big,
with its volunteers too spread out, to make that practical. We tried
not to think about all the folks back home barbecuing and watching
fireworks to celebrate our nation's birthday. To make up for an
uneventful July 4th, we celebrated July 5th in style, marking the
second anniversary of our wedding. People here are very interested in
the fact that we are formally married, since most couples here just
live together without any legal recognition of their union. We went
out to our fanciest/only restaurant, but since it doesn't get much
business, we pre-ordered our meals at lunchtime and came back later
for dinner. They set up a special table for us out in the gazebo, with
romantic views overlooking the rolling green hills and mountains
glowing at sunset. Janet got roast chicken and french fries, her
favorite, and Luc was tempted to try the gazelle steak on offer, but
reconsidered since it was probably poached from the nearby forest
protected area in Malawi, and as development workers we shouldn't
support the bush meat industry. So Luc ordered bean stew instead, his
favorite. After dinner we exchanged anniversary cards we had secretly
made for each other, Luc's written in Chichewa 'Ndimakonda inu,' and
Janet's a video montage on the laptop with photos of our lives
together, set to our wedding song. It was a very happy occasion for us
as we reflected on how many adventures we have had so far and how
lucky we are to be together serving in far away Africa.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Africa Fatigue
We just hit our 9 'monthaversary' in country and we have been feeling
some malaise. It's common for volunteers to go through cycles of
emotional ups and downs, so this must be one of those low phases. It
may be because it's cold, dark and wet outside (it being winter here
in the Southern Hemisphere), or that we've been working hard all
trimester without any real breaks, or side effects from our malaria
prophylaxis, or that it's been hard to sustain enthusiasm with our
youth group or get our science fair project to gel. We've also been
thinking it might be a more general fatigue built up of so many little
things here in Africa which were novel and interesting at first, but
now are not novel, less interesting, and in some cases annoying. Like
the small African drum corps of primary school kids that practices
endlessly next door, or the power outages while we're cooking dinner,
students telling us how hungry they are, the stores running out of
eggs at the same time, being asked to make birthday cake for every
child in the neighborhood, people forgetting to return things they
borrowed, any kind of African transportation, aggressive drunks,
poor-quality products breaking or parts of our house falling apart,
cell phone service outages that can last for days, receiving lots of
attention all the time, even at home when we're trying to escape, and
more, but you probably get the point. As we're trying to post this
blog Romão has come by for the fifth time, this time to ask for change
for a 20 Met bill. But Janet's family is visiting soon and we'll get
out of site with them on a much deserved vacation. Plus wet rainy
weather can only last so long, soon enough we'll have a bright sunny
day and be able to actually have our clothes dry. Romão has just come
over again (6th time), this time to ask for our umbrella. Sorry Romão,
we're using it. We don't want to blame our funk solely on Africa,
people in America feel burned out too. Maybe we've just forgotten
about the annoyances back home, like traffic, smog, consumerism....
some malaise. It's common for volunteers to go through cycles of
emotional ups and downs, so this must be one of those low phases. It
may be because it's cold, dark and wet outside (it being winter here
in the Southern Hemisphere), or that we've been working hard all
trimester without any real breaks, or side effects from our malaria
prophylaxis, or that it's been hard to sustain enthusiasm with our
youth group or get our science fair project to gel. We've also been
thinking it might be a more general fatigue built up of so many little
things here in Africa which were novel and interesting at first, but
now are not novel, less interesting, and in some cases annoying. Like
the small African drum corps of primary school kids that practices
endlessly next door, or the power outages while we're cooking dinner,
students telling us how hungry they are, the stores running out of
eggs at the same time, being asked to make birthday cake for every
child in the neighborhood, people forgetting to return things they
borrowed, any kind of African transportation, aggressive drunks,
poor-quality products breaking or parts of our house falling apart,
cell phone service outages that can last for days, receiving lots of
attention all the time, even at home when we're trying to escape, and
more, but you probably get the point. As we're trying to post this
blog Romão has come by for the fifth time, this time to ask for change
for a 20 Met bill. But Janet's family is visiting soon and we'll get
out of site with them on a much deserved vacation. Plus wet rainy
weather can only last so long, soon enough we'll have a bright sunny
day and be able to actually have our clothes dry. Romão has just come
over again (6th time), this time to ask for our umbrella. Sorry Romão,
we're using it. We don't want to blame our funk solely on Africa,
people in America feel burned out too. Maybe we've just forgotten
about the annoyances back home, like traffic, smog, consumerism....
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