Wednesday, March 30, 2011

is that a borehole youre digging or are you just happy to see me?

I drove into Manjacaze with Ofelio, the dearest of Peace Corps staff who always seems to get stuck doing things that I highly doubt were in his job description. We had been driving for two days, all the way south from Chimoio, through Inhambane province, into Gaza until we reached the turn off to Manjacaze.

Coming from the north, the road into Manj left me happy Peace Corps invested in 4-wheel drive vehicles. After about 45 minutes on the bumpy dirt road, we passed a sign indicating we had reached the “Municipio de Manjacaze.” “You are going to live in a municipality!” Ofelio told me. “This is a big place!” Unsure that “big” was the word Ofelio meant, we road into town to wait for Gerhad (Geraldo) at the gas station. The center of Manjacaze had a single gas pump, a market, and a post office. Ofelio and I drove around a bit before meeting Geraldo and saw that the town was also equipped with a bank and another gas station (this one with more than one pump and a convenience store), a bakery, a variety of small shops, and an old train station. We waited for Geraldo under a big cashew tree and lamented about how much hotter Gaza was than Chimoio.

From the shady cashew tree, we followed Geraldo to his house. He had warned me that a group of South Africans were with him on a mission trip for the week, but to not be overwhelmed. I got out of the car to be greeted by 25 excited volunteers, just back from a morning of digging a well in one of Mozaic’s beneficiary’s houses.

The following week flew by. I was kept busy by the visiting group, and any spare moment I tried to talk with Geraldo about Mozaic and what it is he wanted me to work on in the coming months. The visiting group worked in a number of beneficiaries houses, planting different plants, erecting fences, and working on a well. Unfortunately, the drill bit for the well got lodged in the sand and the group spent a lot of time trying to just get the drill bit back out of the sand. Unsuccessful, the borehole debacle became somewhat of the joke of the week.

But the failed well did not keep the group from having a great time. We visited a pre-school in the nearby town of Chokwe (“nearby”, read: two hours drive). We helped the pre-school by laying out a vegetable garden that the kids can get food from year round. We also played with the kids and tried to teach them a little about nutrition. As I helped translate for the group, I was so excited to feel needed, even just for translating. Though I had only been in Manjacaze a few days, I was being utilized. I was not just sitting beneath a mango tree (though don’t get me wrong, some of my fondest Dondo moments were beneath that tree), but I was talking with kids about nutrition, I was helping a group of volunteers with their work, I was getting my hands dirty planting perennials that will feed people in this sandy region all year round. The more I worked, the more I was excited to be in Manj, the more excited I was to be able to work with this organization and in this communitiy.

The week ended with an exciting futbol game, which we obviously lost, but not for lack of trying. The "South Africans" (in quotes because I was also part of the team!) lost 0-4 to the Mozambicans. Important note: I do not think anyone on the Mozambican team was over 16 years old, we should have gotten some kind of handicap.

Throughout the week, I was luckily able to learn a bit more about what Mozaic does. Mozaic works in Manjacaze as well as some other rural communities in the areas of agriculture/conservation farming, nutrition, and health. While the agriculture project is well established in the community, Geraldo hopes to build the nutrition project to get people more excited and committed to using the nutritious plants he has helped them cultivate. He has identified a number of important plants, especially perennial varieties that are packed with nutrition and are easy to use. Now it is just a matter of getting people to use them.

In the next coming weeks I will focus on learning about what Mozaic has done in Manjacaze and the other communities in which we work. I will be working closely with a few volunteers from the local church (Mozaic partners with local churches to carry out its work) who act as activistas in the community. I am really excited to work with the volunteers and even more excited to be working with Mozaic. We are going to try to put together weekly seminars on different plants and agriculture techniques, and eventually I also want to start up cooking classes. There is so much potential for growth with Mozaic and the whole team is excited to support new projects.

People say everything happens for a reason. I think I was meant to be here in Manjacaze. Despite the stress of the last couple weeks, I feel like there is good work for me to do here with Mozaic and I am excited to explore what that work will look like and figure out ways that I can help Mozaic’s mission.

As an added bonus, the town of Manjacaze just received an ice cream machine. What more can I ask for?

Monday, March 7, 2011

moving south.

I am a pretty light sleeper. So when I woke up to two men jumping out of my window, I was pretty surprised that I had not heard them come in.

More surprised, however, that I had not heard them steal my valuables right off my bed. Pretty sneaky banditos.

After being surprised and annoyed about the fact that my computer was gone (and that I was only half-way through season 3 of Dexter), I sat down to realize that I also did not have a phone, and it being 2:30 in the morning, I had no way to contact Peace Corps or anyone from ASVIMO to sit with me or help me handle the situation. So I waited. At the time, I did not know what else I could do, but I spend the next few hours thinking about my options and about how I could have stopped the situation. The guys had cut the grates off my window (I think they must have done this another day and I just had not noticed) and climbed in. I had been in the process of fixing my windows so they would close and lock, and if I ever wished I had been more proactive about something, this was the moment.

Anyway, I sat there and thought about the situation until it was light enough to feel safe outside of my house. I went for a run, and if there is anything that makes you run fast, its the prospect of finding the guy who had the nerve to break into your house. I was a volunteer, after all. I was here to help this community, not get robbed by it.

It was not until after I had showered and was talking to my neighbor that what had happened really set in. As I explained to my neighbor, I just burst into tears. Crying is not something Mozambicans do in public, so she was justly surprised as she agreed that stealing from others "nao e vida."

Around 6:30, I decided to see if anyone was at ASVIMO yet. Most of my neighbors do not have phones, so I would have to wait until one of my counterparts arrived to call Peace Corps and explain what had happened. Luckily, we were starting March food distribution that day, so Esperanca had come in early to prepare a few things. As she nonshelantly asked how I had slept, I started crying again (I don't know why I could not keep it together, but I couldn't), and she sat me down and had me explain. She then called Gimo who called the local police to come to talk with me. I was able to track down the Peace Corps emergency number and explain what had happened.

The morning from then on out happened very quickly. Peace Corps communicated with Gimo and decided that Dondo, and its proximity to Beira, was not a safe place for me. Break ins are very common among volunteers in Mozambique, but break ins in which the person actually enter the house are very uncommon. Anyway, by mid afternoon, there was a Peace Corps car waiting to pack up my house and take my to the office. I refused to put everything in the car, convinced that I could negotiate with Peace Corps to let me stay in Dondo. I locked all of my things, save the charger for the computer (which they had not stolen, joke is on you!), and clothes for a few days, in the warehouse at ASVIMO and promised my activistas I would be back by Monday.

When I arrived in Chimoio, at the Peace Corps office, it was clear that I would not be going back. Peace Corps had already officially closed my site due to security reasons, and I would no longer be working in Dondo. I really had spent the last three months becomming a part of the community of Dondo, and especially of my bairro, Mafarinha. I hated the prospect of leaving. If for no other reason because this community clearly had people who were living in a state of desperation.

But nothing could convince Peace Corps to let me stay. The next week, I returned to Dondo and had to explain to my neighbors that I would not be coming back. It was really hard to say goodbye, especially to the women next door and to the activistas I had worked with. It does not really make sense to just leave when your house is broken into. If that happened in the states, you would get a better security system or a taller fence. Explaining to my community that though I wanted to help, the community was not safe enough for me was very hard. Especailly since I was not convinced. But I gave each of the kids a hug and the women my regards, and I drove away.

A few days later, I heard from Peace Corps that they had found me a new site in Gaza province, in the south. My new town is called Manjakaze and I will be working with a South African NGO called Mozaic. The work with Mozaic seems very interesting and after speaking with the director of the organization I am really excited to get to move down and start working. I will be working on building capacity for the organization on their nutrition and food security projects.

I do not have many more details at this point, but I will keep everyone as up to date as I can.

On a lighter note, packing up my house in an hour was quite an adventure (as some of you who have lived with me or helped me pack in the past know, try as I can, I somehow always tend to accumulate a lot of things, especially compared to most Mozambicans). George and Maria helped me, and I hope they know how much I appreciated their help. Throughout the whole packing up, anything from the states, Maria would hold up and ask what it was for. She tasted soy sauce for the first time and thought my Burt's Bees shampoo smelled great. When she found my deodorant, she asked what it was for, and after I told her it was to smell good, she asked how to use it. I showed her how and she was totally impressed. I told her she could take the stick (Tom's lavender hops deoderant is so delightful) and her entire face lit up.

I am pretty sure Maria will be the best smelling person in Mozambique.

And I am positive that I will miss her.