The Spaghetti Thief

While we and most of the community where at a funeral for one of our teacher colleague’s brother, a thief broke down our neighbor’s door and stole some of her stuff. The neighborhood was abuzz with gossip when we returned from the cemetery. Apparently the thief took about the equivalent of $20 in cash, an iron, two pairs of pants, and... ten packs of spaghetti! It was a little unnerving to have a break-in literally ten feet away from our bedroom window. Our house is slightly more secure, with burglar bars on the windows and doors, but the old mortar holding them in is so crumbly now, Luc is convinced one good tug from a would-be burglar could easily remove the obstacle. We don’t have much to steal in our little house and people think we are poor since we don’t have a TV, which seems to be the very first sign of affluence here, but we are foreigners, and with no bank in the town, there have been times when we have had stacks of cash in our house. We put an extra pad lock on our main grate. In the end the spaghetti was his undoing. Some of the neighborhood kids starting investigating and spying into windows. The suspect was boiling a pack of spaghetti. That was enough to bring the police into it and he was apprehended and forced to give back three packs of spaghetti and the iron. He was just a rebellious teenager with nothing to do, not a serial criminal, so we’re feeling much safer now that he was punished and outed to the whole town as a robber. We can’t imagine a crook in America, going in to someone’s house and stealing… spaghetti. But this isn’t America…

A Quiet Weekend at Home

For the past three months our lives have been whirlwinds of activity. With visits from Janet’s family and best friend, a safari trip to Zambia, a visit from Luc’s brother, a week down in Maputo for our close of service conference, our trip to Tanzania to get Luc’s dad, our farewell event for our Peace Corps Malawi neighbors, and several visits from our Peace Corps Mozambique buddies it has been three months since we have had a weekend in site, just the two of us. But that’s exactly what we got this weekend. No scrambling into overcrowded vehicles, no endless waiting for buses to fill, no border crossings, no battling with cell networks to coordinate via text messages, no travel drama. Janet got to sleep in, Luc got to go to church, and we did some hiking. We attended the Sunday afternoon soccer game, sitting on the grass and chatting with colleagues while our local team beat a team from the city sponsored by a large auto repair garage. We made some of our favorite meals, pizza one night and hamburgers with potato salad the other. We also had some excitement to celebrate. With some of Noah’s help (Luc’s older brother in California), we bought our plane tickets to America. African airfare can be unpredictable and all flights require multiple layovers and connections. What is totally predictable are the high prices, but Peace Corps had already calculated $2,600 for the one-way flight, so that alleviated the financial pressure. We had already scouted out all the major airlines while at the Peace Corps office during our trip to drop Luc’s dad at the airport in Malawi, so we already knew our best options, which this year happen to be Turkish Air. We just needed Peace Corps’ final confirmation of our Close of Service Date, which we just got this week. On-line purchases are way beyond the rudimentary capabilities of our little cell phone web browser and we didn’t know when we’d be able to connect at our nearest café down in the city, plus last time some spyware on that computer stole Luc’s credit card number and made some sketchy purchases in Nigeria. Luckily our little phone can handle e-mail, so after 7 rounds of back and forth with Luc’s patient brother we had our e-tickets. It feels different now, even though we knew from the beginning that we would be finishing in December 2011. Now that we actually have an exact date inked in on the calendar it really looks like a count down. We’re trying to avoid crossing off the days and really trying to enjoy all of our last experiences.

Another Round of Good-Byes

Every time we see Peace Corps friends now we have to say good-byes and this weekend we had a good share of farewells. We made the trek down to Gorongosa for a big end of service get together, and with buddies starting to head back to America next month, it was our last time seeing a bunch of the guys we’ve had such a strong shared experience with over the past two years. Tete province traveled in a pack, and like all our African travel, we had our share of adventure. Our 4am bus out of the city broke down half way to Chimoio in the middle of nowhere. Our conductor managed to muster two small mini-buses to rescue us, but we had to pack 5 to a row to all fit in. Our next transport had a blow out, but luckily managed to retain control and not flip over. In the end we made it safe and sound. Close to 50 volunteers congregated on the centrally located Gorongosa, so we brought a tent and camped out under the stars, until it started raining. Our rain-fly is already in the USA, so we had to scrounge some floor space and sleep slumber party style. One of our colleagues works in the nearby Gorongosa National Park, so she organized a safari for us in one of their mini-buses. Gorongosa was one of the continent’s premiere safari parks during the Portuguese era, but the two decades of conflict that followed left the park devastated and devoid of the kind of flashy wildlife we’ve grown accustomed to on some of our other vacations to Mozambique’s neighbors, but we still enjoyed the drive and spotted some beautiful antelopes, including our favorite, the majestic Sable. It was kind of crazy with all the tents, hungry mouths to feed, puppies, emotional farewells, and unexpected precipitation, and at times it felt like a refugee camp, but our hosts, Brian and Jordan, did a great job taking care of us all, so we’re glad we made it, despite the 30+ hours of travel it took for the roundtrip. Plus we got a chance to hear about how everyone is negotiating closing their service here, and what people see in their future for when they get back to America (most people, including ourselves, have been avoiding thinking about this, so we got a lot of hums and uhs in peoples’ answers). We ended with a late evening bonfire, with volunteers playing the guitar and singing songs, no marshmallows or ‘smores, but a few tears and lots of smiles.

Dad's Last Day in Africa

So after 5 weeks together here in Africa, its Luc’s Dad’s last day with us here in Africa. It’s been great having his fresh perspective here to remind us about all the wonderful things that just seem normal to us now. As a retired teacher of 40 years, Pepe made some interesting reflections on our school life, like how interested everyone is in our lives and wellbeing and how much effort our students put into attending school well bathed and in clean clothes, even if they have to wear the same uniform everyday and have to walk down to the dam to take a bath. Even though he doesn’t speak Portuguese he’s been able to communicate well using his Spanish. Also our Padre from Chile and one of our teachers who studied in Cuba can both speak Spanish and a few of our colleagues and friends from the generation that lived in refugee camps in Malawi can communicate in English. We’ll miss Pepe a lot: Janet will no longer have a drinking partner to share her sundowner beer and we will definitely be thinking of him when we snack on the queso Manchego and jamón Serrano he left us. Africa still had a couple of surprises for Dad, like our last bus breaking down in the gas station on our way to the airport leaving us to scramble out the emergency exit in a frenetic free-for-all to get seats on the next bus. But sometimes Mama Africa throws in good surprises too, like a half flat of strawberries for $2.50 available on the street corner when we hadn’t even realized it was strawberry season.

We’ve basically had family visitors since July 4th, so after Pepe leaves it will be our first time with our little house to ourselves in over two months. Hopefully we won't feel lonely!

Poly Project

Janet had received a donation last year from Polytechnic School Lower and Middle school students, the school she went to when she was a girl and where her mom and Luc’s aunt currently teach. The kids there sold popsicles to raise money for our school here in Mozambique. Kids here frequently sell home-made freezies, but they didn’t understand how Janet’s school was able to raise over $300. It’s probably because they only charge 3 cents a popsicle here. Janet originally wanted to build a sports court for our school with the money and everyone was very excited, but after various months of failed efforts we realized that is not a realistic project. People just don’t really understand how to build basketball hoops here and we don’t have any skilled cement workers available to refurbish the crumbling surface left behind by the old Portuguese gas station. Instead we’re going to use the money to finish the administrative block at our school which has been standing half complete since we started working here in 2009. It’s not as exciting of a project as a sports court, but it will house offices for our principal and vice principal, who currently just conduct there business in the teacher’s lounge, create a space for our school library, and provide somewhere for the distance learners to meet when they come in to do their tutoring and testing. The money has totally revitalized the project and all kinds of work is now going on at the school. One of Janet’s 10th graders is doing the masonry, one of our teacher colleagues is installing the wiring, and we just saw three of our students walking to campus with doors on their heads, so those are probably being installed as we write this. Our Vice-Principal has really come through to make this happen, negotiating good prices on all the materials and work, something we really hate to do since we have no idea how much something like a door frame is worth here in site. Plus he’s kept a record of every single purchase, down to the last nail, a practice which is so important in a system where money often disappears. Our kids can always find somewhere to play soccer, so even though they don’t get the sports court there will be no lack of physical exercise here, but finishing this school building will really help the academic life of our campus, something which is so important for a community with so few academic facilities available.

Our Last Trimester

We’re already half way through our last trimester; it’s just five more weeks until final exams. Our school principal, Mr. Sandwich, got promoted to be in charge of a neighboring administrative post, something akin to a small county, so the top position on campus is now vacant. We really liked our principal, so we’ll miss him, but we always suspected this would happen given how competent he has been and how cozy he is with all the provincial big shots in the ruling party. Luckily we have great assistant principals, so our school should survive. The last trimester here is basically equivalent to the push from after spring break to the end of the school year in June in the traditional American calendars, so any student or teacher back home knows how that is. Basically everyone is running out of gas and starting the countdown for summer break, which starts on October 29th. We’ve had trouble keeping our afterschool clubs going since everyone is tired or busy preparing for national exams if they’re in 10th grade. We had to rally to get something together for the September 7th national holiday here commemorating the Lusaka Peace Accords, which ended the colonial conflict with the Portuguese in 1974. Luckily Liston, one of our most dedicated activists, got a theater piece together at the last minute. He had to run to a couple of students’ houses to drag them to the performance, but he made it happen. He’s become such an outstanding leader; he even got a group of kids together to play games before the ceremony to draw the local townspeople into the plaza so we could get started.

Next up is getting our English Theater team together for the provincial competition down in Tete next month, which as the only second year volunteers in this part of the country, we are in charge of organizing. Luckily one of our friends has a theater he is willing to lend us free of charge (we love Padre Ricardo)! If that’s not enough to keep us busy, we still have four more holiday performances for our Youth Activists. Next they want to do a piece where all the girls and boys play opposite gender roles. So we’re not expecting too much free time in the next couple of months, but as we head down the home stretch of our Peace Corps experience, we’ll try to remember to savor our last moments because before we know it, we’ll be flying home. Speaking of which, we need to buy our tickets!

Weekend with our Padre

We've been so busy with family visits, traveling, and teaching, it's been a while since we've been able to spend some time in our regional capital Tete, except driving through with Janet's family to see the science fair. With Luc's dad still here, we decided to take a little break from village life and show him a little more of Mozambique by spending a weekend down in the city with Padre Ricardo at our parish headquarters in Moatize. Padre Ricardo is a Chilean priest in the Salesian´s of Don Bosco order serving as the director of the Missão São João Bautista here in Mozambique.
He always has activities going on in the community, building churches and schools, running a carpentry shop, computer lab, community radio, and agricultural project, and organizing groups of international volunteers to carry out projects, as well as all his normal priestly duties, like celebrating mass and attending to the spiritual needs of his flock. He is an inspiration for us and it was great to spend a weekend with him at the mission relaxing and having pleasant meals and conversations. Padre Ricardo took us on a tour to see some of the schools in various states of completion he's working on, and some of the churches he's trying to resurrect.


Moatize is the site of one of the world´s largest coal reserves, and we saw the part of town the Brazilian mining company Vale simply cleared out to make way for one of the mega projects, including the demolished church Padre Ricardo is now trying to get rebuilt in the new town built for the displaced community members thirty kms from the original. We also saw the old Portuguese mining town and the very unique open air church they built dedicated to Santa Barbara, the patroness of coal miners. We had a chance to take Luc's dad into Tete, the hottest city in the country. Luckily its cold season, but that doesn't mean we didn't sweat plenty walking to do our favorite shopping, eat pizza, and tour the different old Portuguese fortresses to get the best views of the majestic Zambezi and the suspension bridge, which is looking quite dapper after its two year renovation.


We also got money from the bank. We were critically low, and there are no withdrawal options anywhere within 100 kms from our house. Adrienne, one of our Peace Corps friends, threw a Mexican party at the home of one of our Brazilian friends. They live in the Mozambican Leaf Tabacco housing, which is a verdant oasis of green on the outskirts of town surrounded by arid baobab desert. Needless to say their housing situation is not Peace Corps style, so we enjoyed catching up with them and our PC buddies, cooking fajitas, and experiencing a timeout from everything African in this posh gated community.

On Sunday we attended the Padre Ricardo´s early morning mass, which we could actually understand since it was in Portuguese unlike our service entirely in Chichewa. Janet tried to make a quiche for our host, but the electricity kept failing at crucial moments in the cooking process, and you can't bake quiche on the charcoal barbeque. That afternoon we drove out along the Zambezi to the historic, but sadly dilapidated Boroma mission.


The church is the oldest in Tete, built in 1885 and stands high on a hill looking out over the Rio Zambezi. This weekend has been relaxing and fun, a nice break from our fast-paced, very intense lifestyle at site. Plus we have great internet access here so we've put up a bunch of pictures and done some much-overdue facebook-ing.

A Proud Moment for Zachariah

Zach's dad, Jordan and Zach

We have written some in our blog about Zachariah and his job search in Tete city. It has been an on-going saga since he graduated from twelfth grade in an English medium high school in neighboring Malawi. It’s hard to get jobs in this country without connections. But, his persistence paid off. Zach is now an office man for a construction company down in booming Moatize. He claims it is a lowly job, but any type of paid employment is an achievement here in Southern Africa, where official unemployment rates aren’t even measured. He does a lot of typing on the computer, which vindicates our seemingly endless hours maintaining the lab and running community computer courses, Zach being one of our graduates from earlier this year. His salary is just under $100 a month, about half as much as we make as teachers. There are a lot of demands on that income since he has a large extended family back in his home village relying on him. Zach has not forgotten the contribution Peace Corps has made to his social promotion, having learned English from three generations of volunteers in Mozambique, and then receiving sponsorship for his school fees in Malawi from Angelina, the volunteer we replaced, and living his final school year with Jordan, our PC buddy in Malawi. In gratitude he invited Jordan and us to his village to meet all of his family. We had been already several times, but it meant so much to Zach to finally have Jordan there. He made a special meal with ocean fish he bought frozen in the market. We took lots of pictures and toured the village. We even got to meet his girlfriend, Elita, a young woman from a nearby village who has also finished high school. He says they will marry next year when he has saved some cash and built a house and he also says they will spend lots of time reading together since she is educated like him. Zach’s father was so gracious and instead of emphasizing how much help Zach needed, like on each of our previous visits, he just recognized how much Zach had accomplished with help from all his many “white teachers.” It was a special afternoon for everyone, one of those moments when a lot of things come together and being a Peace Corps Volunteer feels so satisfying and worthwhile. Our next goal is to teach Zach how to use email so we can stay in touch with him next year.

Farewell Mwanza Boyz

So we lost our two closest Peace Corps neighbors this week. Ironically, they were both Malawi volunteers, but it makes sense since we live right on the border, and our own volunteers are so spread out across the vastness of Mozambique. Jordan arrived in country the same week as us, but due to some surprise shifts in the Malawi academic calendar he is already done with his second year of teaching, so he’ll be touring India and Southeast Asia for the next three months while we still have a whole trimester left to complete during that time. Yeah, we are a little jealous. Jordan says he will miss us, but he won’t miss performing to 50+ student classrooms everyday. Oliver, our other PC neighbor, still has over a year left, but headquarters feels his village site is too isolated now without Jordan in his hub town, so he’s being moved farther south. We had a farewell weekend with them to celebrate. We cooked them chocolate chip cookies, lasagna, cinnamon rolls, and had a Glee marathon, watching the last three episodes of the season (we had managed to get them from our download network while down in Maputo). We gave them both matching Mwanza Boyz t-shirts Janet made with her rainbow Sharpies and a couple of Luc’s cleanest undershirts. We also took some farewell pictures. Peace Corps is an intense experience that makes you grow close to your fellow volunteers so it was tough to say goodbye. Last week we had two Peace Corps buddies within walking distance of our home and next week we’ll have none.

From Blue to Red

Here in Africa cell phones are big business. Our town doesn’t have a single land-line, and people love to communicate, but everyone seems to have a cell phone, or at least access to one. Mozambique has two main service providers, MCel and Vodacom. We, like most Mozambicans, use both since we never know when one will suddenly check out for an extended period of time. It just involves switching the different SIM cards in and out, the same thing we have to do when we visit neighboring countries. No one here has contracts, you just pay as you go, buying little phone vouchers from the omnipresent street vendors. Each company vies desperately for each little 60 cent phone credit purchase we make, so their advertising is one of the few commercial presences in our lives. Our town doesn’t have any adds for Coca Cola, or Nike, or McDonalds; the two large billboards here are both for cell service. An even more popular advertising gimmick is sponsoring local paint jobs. About half of our little stores are painted gold and green for Mcel, and the other half navy blue for Vodacom, or at least they were until last month when Voda decided to switch from blue to red. The move means repainting thousands of little shops around the country, including 3 in our town, but obviously they love the attention. It’s rare to go a day without seeing at least a couple of our students sporting Mcel or Voda promotional t-shirts or caps. At least the competition seems to keep prices accessible, especially for text messages and cell phone based internet, which is the service we use the most, and how many of the blogs on this site have been sent.

Drought

Southern California exists in a semi-permanent state of draught, but despite all the talk of water scarcity, we can’t remember water running out, or ever encountering a tap which failed to produce the precious liquid back home. Here in Africa you know it’s a drought when you toss your bucket down the well and instead of hearing that reassuring splash you just get a muddy thud. This year is particularly parched and our wells are already going dry; we still have at least a month or two before we expect the rainy season to relieve us. With questionable water availability we have to rethink all of our daily activities. Drinking water is top priority. Washing clothes? Good luck. Taking a bath? Hopefully, but maybe recycling water used earlier to rinse our salad vegetables. Maybe we have to wear our semi-clean/semi-dirty clothes a couple extra times between washes (Luc doesn’t seem to mind), and then save the sudsy laundry water for our dishes. Maybe we get lucky and we’re first in line at the well and we get water that’s actually translucent and not chocolate milk. It’s extra stressful when we have guests. People are trekking down to the small reservoir dammed up at the edge of town to do washing, but we don’t trust that parasite infested body of water, and our local stream reeks of cesspool, so we don’t have too many alternatives available. We’ve even had to buy water to get out of a couple of pinches. We’ve reducing our usage to about five gallons of water per day person. Maybe the rains will come early and relieve us, but either way we know that from now on, we’ll appreciate turning on the tap so much.

Our Dark Place

After two years of moving around Africa we have developed a respectable repertoire of public transport skills. But even a couple of old hands like us have our bad days. One of our least favorite places on the continent is the Lilongwe bus depot. It brings out the worst in people who just see you as another body they need to get to fill another seat on their vehicle. Touts are aggressive and use all kinds of tricks to coerce our decision. We just want to get on the next bus out, but it’s so hard to figure out which one that is with the anemic information available. Buses rev their engines and pretend to pull out, but this means nothing, they can maintain the charade for hours before actually leaving. There are bus companies with ‘schedules’ but this also means little, especially now with the fuel crises and everyone vying to fill their already uncomfortable buses to the max. The words ‘express’ or ‘luxury’ also mean nothing. Mini-buses compete against the big buses, and they are even worse, oftentimes physically grabbing our bags or pushing us towards their dilapidated vehicles. It’s so bad we just steer clear of that part of the yard completely. In the end none of the options are that good and we always seem to wait at least two hours before leaving, so Africa Always Wins. This time around we got on what we thought was a reputable bus, with a decent price, but it still took three hours to fill. We share a last-resort technique with some other Peace Corps friends, which we call “Going to your dark place.” It involves completely giving up, closing your eyes, and retreating into a gloomy mental state of barely hanging on. It’s a last resort coping strategy, if you can call it a strategy, but when we’re in the Lilongwe bus depot, or an open pickup in the rain, or squashed into the aisle of a bus at three times its capacity, we’re glad the dark place is there for us.