first month.

So, I have been at site for over a month now, and it is starting to feel like home.

I recently bought some beautiful capulanas at the market (and I think I made the vendor’s day when I decided to buy seven capulanas) and then I spent an afternoon hand sewing curtains. The curtains look great with the paint I got, and my house is starting to look very much like a home. I am starting to put things up on the walls, and as soon as my friendly carpenter starts moving on his work, I should have a dresser and a nice shelf.

Ghandi never returned, but my neighbors felt terrible about me losing my child and I have helped me adopt a street kitten whom I have named Nero. Nero is adorable, has a little scratch on her nose, and loves when I give her a cup of milk (now to be specific this is reconstituted dehydrated milk, she is really quite laid back about her food). She is not at all vicious, and will probably thrive a lot more in my house than she would have in the wilds of Dondo, but I am still hopeful that I can teach her how to attack cockroaches and to scare away mice.

My neighbors have become my favorite part of my house. I can sit for hours with my neighbor Ana, who will often come over to talk with me about her boyfriend problems or about how she is nervous to move to Maputo for police school. Her mom has informed me that when she leaves, I will be inherited as her daughter. I pointed out that neither of us would be alone, as we will have each other. She laughed and said she would be spending a lot of time with me in my house. My next-door neighbor has a beautiful two-year-old boy named Nino. Nino loves to run around and loves it when I chase him. I think his mom appreciates someone else playing with him and has begun to look after me like an older child. She helps me pick through vegetables from the market, gives me cooking tips, and alerts me when it is about to pour and I should take my laundry inside.

Dondo itself is proving to be a great city to live in. It is big enough that I can always get just about everything I need, and I have already found my favorite cucumber lady, the best deal on eggs, and the cutest bread boy. I have become fast friends with the owner’s of the internet shop. Last time I went in, they called me by name, cleared off a table for me, and brought me a cold Fanta. It was great.

I have been trying to dedicate a few afternoons a week to exploring new parts of the city. I have found an amazing pineapple farm, a soon to be high class hotel, and a lot of fertile farm land. When I go on long bike rides, I always get funny looks (because why would you ride just to ride around aimlessly) but I have found it’s a great way to see the town and its outskirts. I bet the fact that I am not only one of few white people riding around town (there are some American missionaries whom I have met), but I also tend to wear shorts on these rides, both out of comfort (its too hot for pants and wearing a skirt on a bike can get tricky) and to make it seem like I am doing something truly athletic. After my first week with my bike, and my Peace Corps obligatory helmet, one of my co-workers explained that in Mozambique, only true cyclists, who ride for sport, would wear a helmet. Since I have to wear the helmet (not wearing a helmet is one of ten ways you immediately get sent home, along with riding on a motorcycle, being active in political protests, etc), I figured if I paired it with shorts, maybe I could make people think I was training for the Tour de Mozambique. If they stopped to think about it, training for any event on my single speed beach rider would be pretty impressive, but if I don’t have them fooled, at least I have them totally confused.

Work with ASVIMO is starting to become more interesting. With a slow December month because of the holidays, we are finally starting to think about what exactly my role will be within the organization. I am learning to take slower steps in each process of my work here, as everything happens much slower than it would in the states. Most days, I arrive at the office at 8, unlock and open my office door, and sweep the inside. Then I sit around reading various documents until about 9 when other people start showing up. We all sit in the shade and chat until about 10 or 10:30, when someone brings mangos or a coconut and we have a break (from all of our hard morning work). Around 11, we go over something work related as a group. At 12, all the neighborhood kids show up for lunch, I go to say hello to the kids and talk with the great lady who lives next door to ASVIMO (who herself has eight kids and likes to think of herself just like my mom ever since I told her I was the seventh of eight; I never thought being one of eight would be an icebreaker). Around 1 or 2 we all decide it is way to hot to work, and we all go home.

There are obviously days that are different. On “trabalho do campo” (field work) days, I can accompany one of the activistas to the houses of our beneficiaries and talk with them about whether or not they are adhering to their medication, how their nutrition has been lately, and whether or not their kids are registered for school. I am also hoping to start working in the district hospital in Mafambisse (another community, about 30 minutes from Dondo). ASVIMO is starting nutrition workshops at Mafambisse once a week, and I am hoping to use that as an opportunity to work in the hospital in whatever way I can. I am also hoping to start a youth group, which I think I will be able to start in the next month or so.

I am excited for the next few weeks, as I am hoping I will be able to do some exciting work. Katasefo, my counterpart, is excited for me to meet the community, and I think he will be a huge asset in the next few months as I am starting work. Everyone respects him and he knows what is going on in all corners of the city. My other co-workers are also doing well, and excited for me to feel like I am being productive (I think they sense my lack of patience). While I love eating mangos every day, I would rather do so as a celebration of work, rather than yet another thing that must happen before we work.