Maputo

There are lots of potential health hazards in the Peace Corps, that’s why Washington requires an annual complete check-up for all volunteers. We would just go to a local health services provider, but apparently Peace Corps cannot find a single dentist outside of the Maputo area that meets US standards, so this yearly ritual requires all of us to migrate to the capital. For us this is a 1000km+ undertaking, but they fly us, much to the delight of Janet and consternation of Lucas, making it a two-hour journey instead of the 4-day odyssey by land (which Luc would prefer). The capital city isn’t a bad place to hole out for five days while submitting three stool samples and a couple of vials of blood (the stool samples provided endless amounts of comedic relief to every conversation). The food selection in Maputo is amazing. We gorged on Thai, Indian, Mexican, and on a splurge: an impressive seafood fantasy platter in a swanky restaurant overlooking the waterfront. One of Luc’s buddies from Peace Corps Honduras works for the State Department in Maputo, so we got to see him and his wife and experience some of their life style. Basically the embassy employees live in little Americas. While swimming in the pool we contemplated what foreign service would be like under these conditions, something that appealed more to Janet than to Luc. For a few days the sheer contrast between the opulence and our comparative squalor was intoxicatingly relieving, so we didn’t think about it too much. Seeing Peace Corps buddies from other regions of the country provided chances to swap stories and enjoy each other’s company. Our office has AC and internet connections, so that’s why there are so many February pictures on our website. Although lounging on the couch watching satellite TV is a temptation many PC volunteers can’t pry themselves away from, we tried to walk the streets of the city a little and were rewarded with some awesome little markets, seaside views, fancy hotel lobbies and the national art museum, which is the only art museum in Mozambique and only has two galleries, but was well worth the 50 cents charged for admission. As we strolled the acacia-lined avenues, admiring the decaying Portuguese architecture, we enjoy imagining Lourenço Marques (Maputo’s former name) in its heyday, although its current state of semi-rehabilitation has a definite charm. We also saw our host mom from Namaacha, Cristalina, who just had a major leg surgery at the central hospital and has been convalescing with her daughter in Maputo. It was sad to see her in such a frail and diminished state, but her spirits were good and her agonizing arthritis pain is gone. She has so much family checking in on her on a continuous basis that we felt reassured. On our extremely crowded chapa to the airport on our way back home we met a man who had known Peace Corps teachers way in the north of the country, and another two ladies who offered to carry our bags turned out to be from Namaacha and friends of our host mom, so even in what we thought was the anonymity of the big city we were connected with people we assumed to be random strangers. Back in Tete, our chapa recognized us walking out of the airport, made a quick stop, and whisked us home to our peaceful town. From leaving our hotel in Maputo, to arriving at our front doorstep, it was a total of five and a half hours, but a world of difference. But then we still waited another hour and a half for Romão, who was house sitting and still doesn’t know how to use a calendar, to return with our sole set of keys.