When I was in high school, what I wanted to do more than anything was host Saturday Night Live.
I sat down with my REDES girls, my girls youth group that I started a few weeks ago at the secondary school, and asked each girl to draw a picture of themselves in ten to twenty years.
There were big houses with pools and huge farms. Some girls drew themselves as doctors or architects. Some were married with children and some had two or three housekeepers.
The girls fought over who would get to share with the group first. Each was excited to show their peers how successful they would be. It was really fun to see them joke about how one would be the mayor and make sure her friends would be taken care of and about how the teacher would make sure everyone's children had a good education.
It was really just fun to see them looking toward the future. Manjacaze, since it has a secondary school, has lots of students who come from rural parts of the district to go to school. If they can pay their school fees, these students will most likely finish school and will have lots of opportunities. The problem, is so few girls make it to this point. The girls in my REDES group have already proven they are driven and are willing to work to get ahead. I hope that through our group, they have a support system to encourage them to stay in school, despite pressures from home to help with daily chores, get married, and start families of their own. One week, when not very many girls showed up to our meeting, I asked one where everyone was. She said they were probably home with the children.
When I was in high school, my parents supported nearly everything I did. I rarely made my bed, let alone harvest plants, wash clothes, prepare dinner, or care for the neighbor children. Being asked what I wanted to do when I got out of school was a question I grew tired of having to answer. I would go to college and then find a job (never made a timeline for that job part...) It was what was expected of me. Thinking about my future was normal.
For my girls, I am not sure if people really ask them what they want to do when they grow up. Since I shared my drawing first, and it included a world (because I hope to travel) and a clinic (because I hope to work in health), half of the girls drew worlds and hospitals on their drawings. I do not think they had thought about what they wanted to do when they grew up. No one had asked them.
One of the girls asked if she could keep her drawing and hang it up in her room. I hope its a reminder to her of the things she can do if she wants.
I told the girls I was going to save the pictures, if they wanted me to, and show them all in a year what it was they had wanted. I put mine in the folder, too, so we will see what it is I want in a year. I still would like to host SNL, but I am not sure how I will get around to doing that.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
papaya and coconut
“I had no idea that things like papaya were actually good for me.” The comment from Mama Dina, one of my favorite “Plant of the Week” class participants, remains my favorite feedback on the classes.
For the last month, we have focused on a different plant each week and had a short lesson on the plant, its nutritional value, medicinal value, and how to cultivate it here in Manjacaze.
My first class, papaya, was only four people. Though I was disappointed, I was excited to have people show up at all (it was a rainy day, which often means anything that was set to happen is expected to be canceled). We had a great time talking about the nutrients in papaya and you can use it on wounds, for diarrhea, and how you can use the roots to treat bad coughs.
After the session, Mama Dina suggested that I should repeat the class the next week, since so many people had not come. I asked if she thought more people would come the next week, and she said she would make sure they did.
At church that Sunday, Dina announced that everyone should come to my classes because they could really learn something. I was so flattered. It’s often hard for the women at the church to take me seriously. At 24 years old, I am still not married and have no children. What can I teach them? Mama Dina's comments got me excited for that week's session.
When Thursday came around, I made a couple of big posters and hung them on the poles in the church (the church is under construction and has no walls). By 12:30, fifteen participants had congregated, and we started our lesson. I started off with a general nutrition lesson. We talked about food groups and why it is important to try to eat a variety of foods each day. I gave each person a drawing of a food and asked them to put it in the right food group. We then had a great discussion about why foods like fish and eggs were not base foods (carbohydrates) but that they were high in protein which was very good for the immune system, etc. People took notes! I couldn't believe it. Everyone thought what I was saying was important enough to write down.
After the first part of the lesson, we returned to the papaya session. I let Mama Dina and Mama Melita help me teach it, as they had both been present the week prior. It was so fun to see them talk about the things we talked about the week before.
We had a great discussion about papaya, about why vitamin A is important for children and about why women are vulnerable to iron deficiency.
After the session, Mama Lusida, who had been translating to changana for me, asked if she could have a copy of my notes, as she had been too busy translating to write anything down. I told the class that the posters would be hung up in the office and they should come by anytime to look at them and we could talk about the plants again. Everyone thanked me and promised to show up the next week.
For the next week, I wanted to have a couple of prizes. I asked Gerhard for some coconut plants to give out to people who answered questions right. We started the class off brainstorming different plates that included each of the food groups from the week prior. Anyone who answered questions right during this review got a coconut. When we then talked about how valuable coconuts were, Francisco raised his hand and asked why everyone didn’t get a plant. I explained it was a prize for people who had studied. He promised to study for the next week.
I hope to continue the classes, but I am also looking to do them with a few different audiences. I am working on a few sessions for the hospital and am going to spend a week with a primary school nearby. I also think I am going to do a few sessions in the market. Mama Dina thinks this will work well, since people are already there to buy things, I should convince them to buy things they take fore-granted. I just like the idea of talking about food right in the market. Its like nutrition information on packages, Mozambican style.
For the last month, we have focused on a different plant each week and had a short lesson on the plant, its nutritional value, medicinal value, and how to cultivate it here in Manjacaze.
My first class, papaya, was only four people. Though I was disappointed, I was excited to have people show up at all (it was a rainy day, which often means anything that was set to happen is expected to be canceled). We had a great time talking about the nutrients in papaya and you can use it on wounds, for diarrhea, and how you can use the roots to treat bad coughs.
After the session, Mama Dina suggested that I should repeat the class the next week, since so many people had not come. I asked if she thought more people would come the next week, and she said she would make sure they did.
At church that Sunday, Dina announced that everyone should come to my classes because they could really learn something. I was so flattered. It’s often hard for the women at the church to take me seriously. At 24 years old, I am still not married and have no children. What can I teach them? Mama Dina's comments got me excited for that week's session.
When Thursday came around, I made a couple of big posters and hung them on the poles in the church (the church is under construction and has no walls). By 12:30, fifteen participants had congregated, and we started our lesson. I started off with a general nutrition lesson. We talked about food groups and why it is important to try to eat a variety of foods each day. I gave each person a drawing of a food and asked them to put it in the right food group. We then had a great discussion about why foods like fish and eggs were not base foods (carbohydrates) but that they were high in protein which was very good for the immune system, etc. People took notes! I couldn't believe it. Everyone thought what I was saying was important enough to write down.
After the first part of the lesson, we returned to the papaya session. I let Mama Dina and Mama Melita help me teach it, as they had both been present the week prior. It was so fun to see them talk about the things we talked about the week before.
We had a great discussion about papaya, about why vitamin A is important for children and about why women are vulnerable to iron deficiency.
After the session, Mama Lusida, who had been translating to changana for me, asked if she could have a copy of my notes, as she had been too busy translating to write anything down. I told the class that the posters would be hung up in the office and they should come by anytime to look at them and we could talk about the plants again. Everyone thanked me and promised to show up the next week.
For the next week, I wanted to have a couple of prizes. I asked Gerhard for some coconut plants to give out to people who answered questions right. We started the class off brainstorming different plates that included each of the food groups from the week prior. Anyone who answered questions right during this review got a coconut. When we then talked about how valuable coconuts were, Francisco raised his hand and asked why everyone didn’t get a plant. I explained it was a prize for people who had studied. He promised to study for the next week.
I hope to continue the classes, but I am also looking to do them with a few different audiences. I am working on a few sessions for the hospital and am going to spend a week with a primary school nearby. I also think I am going to do a few sessions in the market. Mama Dina thinks this will work well, since people are already there to buy things, I should convince them to buy things they take fore-granted. I just like the idea of talking about food right in the market. Its like nutrition information on packages, Mozambican style.
so I slapped him.
There are few days that go by that I do not get marriage proposals. Usually they come in the form of the men who work at the construction shop near my house yell “Hello, girl. I am fine. Take me home with you.” So romantic.
Usually I can shrug these things off. Its easy when its an annoying man yelling at me from a bar. I can yell something equally ridiculous and the whole bar will laugh. Sometimes when people “estou a pedir” (translates to “I am asking”) my telephone number, I respond I am estou a pedir-ing a hippopotamus before I give my number. Usually the man is so surprised he lets me leave.
Sometimes though, you get trapped. The worst is being stuck on a chapa with a man who thinks it is his right to hit on you for the duration of the ride. Because the bus is cramped anyway, there is little you can do.
A couple of weeks ago, I was heading back from Xai Xai after picking up a few things for my office. It had been a long day and I was not in the mood to deal with anyone. As I arrived at the chapa stop, a bus for Manjacaze was just pulling away. Just my luck. I had to wait for the next one to fill up, which often takes over an hour.
Silver lining, I got to pick my seat first. I am partial to the front seat. You only have to talk to one other person, you have a window, and you are guaranteed no chickens on your lap. I put my bag on the seat and went to get a coke.
When I returned a man, who smelled like his afternoon had been spent at a bar, told me he was going to sit by me. Just the way the man spoke should have been a red flag to me, but I said okay and continued drinking my cold beverage. A younger guy came by and we joked about how this older guy was annoying and I asked if he wanted to sit in front and switch seats with me. He laughed, but told me to keep my seat, I had been there first and I should have a good seat.
He was right. When the bus finally pulled away, the drunk man expected that I was going to sit in the middle. This is a common problem. For whatever reason, Mozambican men think the middle seat is no place for a man. Always trying to break gender barriers, I always argue this point and explain that since I was there first, the man can sit in the middle or wherever he wants, but I am sitting by the window. Usually the driver will support me on this, but on this particular day, the driver just laughed and let me deal with it.
Eventually the man got in the middle seat. He started talking to me about how beautiful my hair was (mind you I had been shopping in 90 degree heat, my hair was lots of things at this moment, but beautiful was not one of them). I told the man I was tired and that I just wanted to rest. He responded (in English now) that we were fine, friends and he was not going to give me stress. I put in my headphones.
This is when things started to really turn. This guy put his arm around me and I told him he could not do that. He continued to do it and I continued to move out of the way. Then he had the audacity to put his hand on my leg. I was furious. I moved his hand and told him if he touched me again that I would slap him.
Now, I should add here that this tactic of warning someone about what is to come I learned from my brother. I think the man, like me as a kid, thought the warning was empty. When he put his hand back on my leg, I turned around and slapped him across the face.
The entire chapa laughed. I should add here that I had not kept my feelings about this man to myself. I had been vocalizing my frustrations and the full chapa had failed to help me out. When they all laughed I realized no one was going to help me. I had an hour left on this bus next to this annoying man and I had nowhere to go.
The man turned to me after I slapped him and asked if I was playing with him. He had not taken my assault seriously. To prove I had not offended him, he told me “we are fine, you are testing me” and put his hand back on my leg. At this point, I turned to the driver and asked for his help. The driver said it was not his problem, that he was just a driver. The rest of the bus, now completely engaged in my battle, continued to watch and not help me.
Finally, I turned around to the bus. “God knows.” I said. “No one here is innocent. I am battling this man and no one is helping, and God knows you are not helping me.”
The bus fell silent. The man laughed and put his arm around me. Finally, the young man, from the bus stop, said, “leave this girl alone.” The man, though dejected, gave me a little space and did not speak to me the rest of the ride.
Usually I can shrug these things off. Its easy when its an annoying man yelling at me from a bar. I can yell something equally ridiculous and the whole bar will laugh. Sometimes when people “estou a pedir” (translates to “I am asking”) my telephone number, I respond I am estou a pedir-ing a hippopotamus before I give my number. Usually the man is so surprised he lets me leave.
Sometimes though, you get trapped. The worst is being stuck on a chapa with a man who thinks it is his right to hit on you for the duration of the ride. Because the bus is cramped anyway, there is little you can do.
A couple of weeks ago, I was heading back from Xai Xai after picking up a few things for my office. It had been a long day and I was not in the mood to deal with anyone. As I arrived at the chapa stop, a bus for Manjacaze was just pulling away. Just my luck. I had to wait for the next one to fill up, which often takes over an hour.
Silver lining, I got to pick my seat first. I am partial to the front seat. You only have to talk to one other person, you have a window, and you are guaranteed no chickens on your lap. I put my bag on the seat and went to get a coke.
When I returned a man, who smelled like his afternoon had been spent at a bar, told me he was going to sit by me. Just the way the man spoke should have been a red flag to me, but I said okay and continued drinking my cold beverage. A younger guy came by and we joked about how this older guy was annoying and I asked if he wanted to sit in front and switch seats with me. He laughed, but told me to keep my seat, I had been there first and I should have a good seat.
He was right. When the bus finally pulled away, the drunk man expected that I was going to sit in the middle. This is a common problem. For whatever reason, Mozambican men think the middle seat is no place for a man. Always trying to break gender barriers, I always argue this point and explain that since I was there first, the man can sit in the middle or wherever he wants, but I am sitting by the window. Usually the driver will support me on this, but on this particular day, the driver just laughed and let me deal with it.
Eventually the man got in the middle seat. He started talking to me about how beautiful my hair was (mind you I had been shopping in 90 degree heat, my hair was lots of things at this moment, but beautiful was not one of them). I told the man I was tired and that I just wanted to rest. He responded (in English now) that we were fine, friends and he was not going to give me stress. I put in my headphones.
This is when things started to really turn. This guy put his arm around me and I told him he could not do that. He continued to do it and I continued to move out of the way. Then he had the audacity to put his hand on my leg. I was furious. I moved his hand and told him if he touched me again that I would slap him.
Now, I should add here that this tactic of warning someone about what is to come I learned from my brother. I think the man, like me as a kid, thought the warning was empty. When he put his hand back on my leg, I turned around and slapped him across the face.
The entire chapa laughed. I should add here that I had not kept my feelings about this man to myself. I had been vocalizing my frustrations and the full chapa had failed to help me out. When they all laughed I realized no one was going to help me. I had an hour left on this bus next to this annoying man and I had nowhere to go.
The man turned to me after I slapped him and asked if I was playing with him. He had not taken my assault seriously. To prove I had not offended him, he told me “we are fine, you are testing me” and put his hand back on my leg. At this point, I turned to the driver and asked for his help. The driver said it was not his problem, that he was just a driver. The rest of the bus, now completely engaged in my battle, continued to watch and not help me.
Finally, I turned around to the bus. “God knows.” I said. “No one here is innocent. I am battling this man and no one is helping, and God knows you are not helping me.”
The bus fell silent. The man laughed and put his arm around me. Finally, the young man, from the bus stop, said, “leave this girl alone.” The man, though dejected, gave me a little space and did not speak to me the rest of the ride.
a trip out of town
A few weeks ago, Peace Corps had a medicinal plants conference. I work a lot teaching medicinal uses of different plants to our beneficiaries, so I was excited to learn about how to make different salves, syrups, teas, and herbal baths. Plus, as Peace Corps Volunteers, we always look forward to conferences. I know I will stay in a hotel with a shower. I get to see my friends and I get to shave my legs. I have a few days where I do not have to worry about my leaking roof and I can turn on an air conditioner if I want.
This conference I went to last month was, perhaps, my favorite conference yet. The volunteers participating were all good friends of mine, and I hadn't seen a lot of them in a while. Best though, was watching all the Mozambicans at the conference.
Each Peace Corps Volunteer got to bring one counterpart from his or her community. The idea was to bring someone who could help you disseminate the information from the conference one we arrived back at site. I was bringing Mama Louisa. When I told her about the trip, she had many questions. Did she need to bring a blanket? Would there be food there? Could she bring her daughter? I told her that she needed to leave Geralda at home, but that everything would be provided to her when we got there. She did not seem to believe me, but agreed to participate.
The conference took place in Namaacha, Peace Corps Mozambique’s training headquarters. About an hour an a half from Maputo, Namaacha was quite a trek for a number of people. It was the first time some of the participants had left their provinces, ridden on a plane, or been to their nation's capital.
The first night, we had a great time showing our counterparts how to turn on the shower (for many of them, they had never stayed in a hotel before), how to ride in an elevator, and how to use the air conditioning if they wanted it. At dinner, the buffet impressed all of us (there was chocolate pudding for dessert, you can bet I had seconds), and the conference organizers explained we should sit down with our counterparts to discuss the goals we had for the week.
I met Mama Louisa in her room after dinner. We talked about what she wanted to learn that week and what things we wanted to share with the group. As we talked, she kept looking into the mirror. In the hotel rooms were big, full length mirrors. As we talked, the mirror was right in her view, and like I did as a kid, she could not focus on anything but her reflection. I then realized that apart from the hand mirror I had seen in her house, she had probably never found herself in front of a mirror, trying to have a conversation. I could relate, it is really hard to focus on someone else when you can look at yourself making ridiculous faces.
The conference went really well. Mama Louisa was excited to get back and share with everyone what she had learned. We got a lot of resources and ideas for different projects we could start in the community. I think, though, she was equally excited to brag about the hotel we stayed in and the fact that she had been waited on the whole week. Pastor Ricardo, Louisa's husband seemed a bit jealous and asked if he could come to our next conference.
This conference I went to last month was, perhaps, my favorite conference yet. The volunteers participating were all good friends of mine, and I hadn't seen a lot of them in a while. Best though, was watching all the Mozambicans at the conference.
Each Peace Corps Volunteer got to bring one counterpart from his or her community. The idea was to bring someone who could help you disseminate the information from the conference one we arrived back at site. I was bringing Mama Louisa. When I told her about the trip, she had many questions. Did she need to bring a blanket? Would there be food there? Could she bring her daughter? I told her that she needed to leave Geralda at home, but that everything would be provided to her when we got there. She did not seem to believe me, but agreed to participate.
The conference took place in Namaacha, Peace Corps Mozambique’s training headquarters. About an hour an a half from Maputo, Namaacha was quite a trek for a number of people. It was the first time some of the participants had left their provinces, ridden on a plane, or been to their nation's capital.
The first night, we had a great time showing our counterparts how to turn on the shower (for many of them, they had never stayed in a hotel before), how to ride in an elevator, and how to use the air conditioning if they wanted it. At dinner, the buffet impressed all of us (there was chocolate pudding for dessert, you can bet I had seconds), and the conference organizers explained we should sit down with our counterparts to discuss the goals we had for the week.
I met Mama Louisa in her room after dinner. We talked about what she wanted to learn that week and what things we wanted to share with the group. As we talked, she kept looking into the mirror. In the hotel rooms were big, full length mirrors. As we talked, the mirror was right in her view, and like I did as a kid, she could not focus on anything but her reflection. I then realized that apart from the hand mirror I had seen in her house, she had probably never found herself in front of a mirror, trying to have a conversation. I could relate, it is really hard to focus on someone else when you can look at yourself making ridiculous faces.
The conference went really well. Mama Louisa was excited to get back and share with everyone what she had learned. We got a lot of resources and ideas for different projects we could start in the community. I think, though, she was equally excited to brag about the hotel we stayed in and the fact that she had been waited on the whole week. Pastor Ricardo, Louisa's husband seemed a bit jealous and asked if he could come to our next conference.
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