I imagine when people talk about “southern hospitality” it means you show up to someone's house, where they have a lovely sun-porch and they offer you sweet tea or lemonade and maybe some home-made cookies. It means gentlemen open doors for ladies. It means there are always clean towels in the bathroom that has little soaps shaped like sea shells.
But I honestly do not know. I come from the Midwest. People there smile at each other and bring cookies to the new neighbors. It is hard to walk into a home that is not warm and welcoming and covered with pictures of smiling children, whose giggling you can always hear playing outside on the calm streets. Its hard to imagine being more hospitable than my neighbors on 58th Street, but somehow, the term was coined, “southern hospitality” and they left Dundee totally out of it.
Maybe southern hospitality refers to southern Mozambique. Doubtful, I know, but on a recent trip out to a rural community in Inhambane, I learned a new degree of hospitality.
I was traveling to Mademo. The small farming community lies about 25 kilometers from a district capital, Panda. Though on a map it is not too far from Manjacaze, the roads are fairly deserted. I left my house at 5 am to catch the first chapa out to Mawaela, a town that was once a bustling train stop, but is now pretty run-down village with a few good shops and a lot of men drinking palm wine. Around 7, the driver decided his truck was full enough and we finally left. At 9, we arrived in Mawaela only to find that the only chapa to Panda left at 8. I sat down on the steps of a closed shop convinced another car would come by soon. The men drinking palm wine just laughed and talked about how disillusioned this mulungo was. Anyway, I after waiting a few hours, the shop opened and the owner insisted I go sit at her house. I declined, explaining if a car came by I really needed to be able to see it. She brought me a chair to sit on and a glass of water. A few hours later she came to tell me lunch was ready. Though I told her I was okay, she insisted and provided me with lunch and the entertainment of her adorable three year old daughter who, though she tried, could not eat pasta in any way but spilling it all down the front of her.
At this point the shop owner told me I should really just stay the night with her and her family, there was no way I was going to get a ride that afternoon. I smiled and told her I was sure some car would have to pass through the town that afternoon (why I was so sure, after 6 hours of not seeing a single car, I am not sure). At exactly that moment, one of the men drinking palm wine, who at this point was not even pretending to walk straight (2 PM) informed me that the Administradora do Distrito, kind of like a County Mayor, was going to be driving through to Panda, but that she never stops for anyone. If I wanted a ride, I needed to go to the administrative building on the other side of the town (two minutes walk). I gathered up my things and plopped myself in front of the door of the white plastered building. Twenty minutes later, the Administradora's car pulled up. She got out, paid me not a minutes worth of attention, got a drink of water, and got back in the car. At that moment, one of the guards I had spoken with asked if I could sit in the back with them. She looked me up and down and agreed, although I cannot say she was thrilled.
I hopped in and traveled the rest of the way to Mawaela. Just before the town, I told the guard to ask the driver to stop. As I got out of the car, the Administradora explained there is an actual town 500 meters up the hill and asked why did I want to get out here in the middle of nowhere. I explained I planned to camp near the river. She laughed and drove away.
As the car pulled off, two women who had been cleaning at the river ran toward me and grabbed my bags. They helped me carry them to the campsite (which for the record, while in the middle of no where was an established campsite) and then told me they would come to check on me soon.
I spent a few hours relaxing at the campsite and then decided to head into town. I arrived at the house of one of my few contacts in the town and Suzana, the mother of the house, greeted me with a warm hug. Apparently the ladies who had helped me with my bags had let her know I was coming and she had just toasted cashews for me. The warm cashews were a huge treat, but they were followed by a great fresh salad, made completely from vegetables from her garden, and coconut rice, a tasty Inhambane treat. After chatting for a while, she, her husband, and their two children all walked me the kilometer back to my campsite. We stopped in a shop first, where I was lucky to buy the one and only roll of toilet paper in the town.
The entire week went somewhat the same. Throughout the week, people I worked with would show off their gardens and not let me leave without a head of cabbage, a bag filled with tomatoes, or lots of fresh green onions. Suzana and her family took me in as a third child and cared for me extremely well.
I think what is important to remember is that in Mademo, people do not have a lot to spare. Right now is a good time of year, there is a lot of food to harvest from the machambas, and few people are going hungry. On the other hand, when Suzana ran out of sugar, she told her son to ask the shop keeper if he wanted a chicken. In return for her chicken, she got three kilograms of sugar. Though she had nothing to spare, she insisted on being my very hospitable host. She was never satisfied to set the table if the tablecloth had not not been washed that morning or if the tea had been made in a blackened kettle.
Its a different degree of hospitality. Cookies and lemonade are one thing, but every meal, especially if putting food on the table is both a challenge and source of pride, is true hospitality. People in Mademo would give you the shirt off their back. And its not that people in Omaha wouldn't, but they might think twice. In Mademo, they would give it to you, and then offer to wash the one you were wearing for you.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Monday, July 18, 2011
karma.
When I was in seventh grade, I had this Language Arts teacher, Mrs. McLaughlin. Mrs. McLaughlin did not like me. She had her reasons: I was a side talker, an instigator, I rarely was paying attention, and I was a bit of a smart ass. I would have probably not liked me if I was my seventh grade teacher. I want to take this opportunity to apologize to Mrs. McLaughlin and any of the other teachers I gave a hard time throughout school.
The last two weeks I have spent teaching primary school kids nutrition. I have to admit I never thought I would be a teacher, but teaching nutrition is really a lot of fun.
Most of you who are reading this might know that I love ice-breaker games. I like making people do silly things to feel more comforatable around each other. It turns out primary schoolers might like playing games even more than me.
The first school I worked in was in the town of Mademo. If you want to look on a map for Mademo, look for the district of Panda, then find the capital city, also called Panda. About 35 kilometers south east lies Mademo. The small town is situated right on a river, which is probably why people live there. Unfortunately, hippos also live near the river, so many people's crops have been destroyed in the last few months. Despite the river, water is a big challenge for the people of Mademo; many people walk up to five kilometers just to get water. What's more, they have to do this twice a day.
The school I was working at was Mademo's primary school. The school has 450 students in grades one to seven and only eleven teachers. The school also owns the towns only improved water pump, put in by some foreign NGO in the last few years. Water at the school opens many doors for agriculture projects, and the school director is passionate about agriculture, making my work fit well into his vision for the school.
Upon our first meeting, the school director indicated that he wanted each student to have a plant for which they could take ownership. I thought it was a great idea, but told him 450 plants was a lot all at once, but that we could start with one plant per class. He loved the idea and we scheduled a week for me to work with each class separately.
Each lesson started more or less the same. I started with a silly dancing game. I had all the kids stand in a circle and sing a song that translates to “now we will see who can dance the potato!” They loved it. The rest of my week in Mademo, I could not walk past the school without little kids yelling “agora vamos ver!”After the song, we played a game with lions and gazells. The game is a lot like tag. All the lions try to eat the gazelles. The gazelles have to run from one side of the field to the other without being caught, but once they are caught they join the lions' team. Once the kids are sufficiently tired of running and all the gazelles are eaten by lions, we head back into the classroom.
I should describe a bit about the school in Mademo. A government school, the building has recently been renovated. That said, the renovations are not yet finished, and there are not yet windows or doors on the rooms (except for the director's office). Furthermore, in each classroom, there might only be two or three benches, most kids sit on the floor. For whatever reason, in almost all of the classes, girls sit in the front and boys in the back. I joked with the boys about how they just wanted to goof off, but they still did not move to the front.
Anyway, once inside the classroom, we talk about the lions and gazelles game. I use it as a symbol for the body. When the body is healthy, with good food and hygiene and enough sleep (lots of gazelles on once side of the field), it is hard for us to get sick (harder for the lions to catch the gazelles). But when we are not eating well or sleeping well or bathing, it is easy to get sick (when there are less gazelles its easier for the lions to catch them).
I use the game to lead into my nutrition session. We talk about foods the kids like to eat, their food groups, why its important to eat a variety of foods, and what each type of food does for our bodies. Then I focus on one plant, talk about the nutrients it provides, why those nutrients are important, why the plant is important for the community (most of the plants we chose are hearty perennials that do not need much water and grow well in heat and sand), and we close with a discussion of the steps in planting a plant. We talk about manure as a soil additive and I liken it again to our bodies (like people need more than just rice, plants need more than just soil). Usually the kids are very participative and attentive. Some classes are harder than others; for me the first grade was a challenge because they hardly spoke any Portuguese. Since my sessions are very interactive I would wait (in vain) for a response until the teacher would finally help translate to Changana and the kids would all answer in unison.
Planting the plant is one of the best parts of the class. I will ask, “Who wants to help dig the hole?” and all the kids will scream, “Me! Me! Me!” We plant the plant and them I ask them who's plant it is and the class responds whichever grade they are in.
At least the above is what happens with all the classes except the seventh grade. In the seventh grade, the kids made fun of my mistakes in Portuguese, did not want to dance the potato, did not offer to help, and left me wanting to apologize to Mrs. McLaughlin.
But out of nine classes (two first grades and two sixth grades), if only one gave me a hard time, I suppose I should be pretty glad. I couldn't leave mad, anyway, because as soon as I walked out of the seventh grade classroom, I was greeted by third graders chanting, “agora vamos ver, quem danca mazamban!”
I sat down with all the teachers at the end of the week to get some feedback. Mademo's primary school was the first school I had worked with, and I was not sure how the teachers received the program. I joked with all the teachers about the seventh graders and they agreed that since they are the oldest they are always up to something. The seventh grade teacher apologized and said now I know what its like to be him everyday! The teachers all said that they knew the kids enjoyed the class and that they even learned something from my lessons. The female teachers then asked me how I like to cook the plants I had taught, and I talked with them for a while about the many ways to cook chaya.
I left Mademo excited to come back to see the plants after they had grown. I am already planning the second part of the Mademo lesson. I want to teach how to dry the leaves and
I am also strategizing how to deal with a classroom full of seventh grade Naomis.
The last two weeks I have spent teaching primary school kids nutrition. I have to admit I never thought I would be a teacher, but teaching nutrition is really a lot of fun.
Most of you who are reading this might know that I love ice-breaker games. I like making people do silly things to feel more comforatable around each other. It turns out primary schoolers might like playing games even more than me.
The first school I worked in was in the town of Mademo. If you want to look on a map for Mademo, look for the district of Panda, then find the capital city, also called Panda. About 35 kilometers south east lies Mademo. The small town is situated right on a river, which is probably why people live there. Unfortunately, hippos also live near the river, so many people's crops have been destroyed in the last few months. Despite the river, water is a big challenge for the people of Mademo; many people walk up to five kilometers just to get water. What's more, they have to do this twice a day.
The school I was working at was Mademo's primary school. The school has 450 students in grades one to seven and only eleven teachers. The school also owns the towns only improved water pump, put in by some foreign NGO in the last few years. Water at the school opens many doors for agriculture projects, and the school director is passionate about agriculture, making my work fit well into his vision for the school.
Upon our first meeting, the school director indicated that he wanted each student to have a plant for which they could take ownership. I thought it was a great idea, but told him 450 plants was a lot all at once, but that we could start with one plant per class. He loved the idea and we scheduled a week for me to work with each class separately.
Each lesson started more or less the same. I started with a silly dancing game. I had all the kids stand in a circle and sing a song that translates to “now we will see who can dance the potato!” They loved it. The rest of my week in Mademo, I could not walk past the school without little kids yelling “agora vamos ver!”After the song, we played a game with lions and gazells. The game is a lot like tag. All the lions try to eat the gazelles. The gazelles have to run from one side of the field to the other without being caught, but once they are caught they join the lions' team. Once the kids are sufficiently tired of running and all the gazelles are eaten by lions, we head back into the classroom.
I should describe a bit about the school in Mademo. A government school, the building has recently been renovated. That said, the renovations are not yet finished, and there are not yet windows or doors on the rooms (except for the director's office). Furthermore, in each classroom, there might only be two or three benches, most kids sit on the floor. For whatever reason, in almost all of the classes, girls sit in the front and boys in the back. I joked with the boys about how they just wanted to goof off, but they still did not move to the front.
Anyway, once inside the classroom, we talk about the lions and gazelles game. I use it as a symbol for the body. When the body is healthy, with good food and hygiene and enough sleep (lots of gazelles on once side of the field), it is hard for us to get sick (harder for the lions to catch the gazelles). But when we are not eating well or sleeping well or bathing, it is easy to get sick (when there are less gazelles its easier for the lions to catch them).
I use the game to lead into my nutrition session. We talk about foods the kids like to eat, their food groups, why its important to eat a variety of foods, and what each type of food does for our bodies. Then I focus on one plant, talk about the nutrients it provides, why those nutrients are important, why the plant is important for the community (most of the plants we chose are hearty perennials that do not need much water and grow well in heat and sand), and we close with a discussion of the steps in planting a plant. We talk about manure as a soil additive and I liken it again to our bodies (like people need more than just rice, plants need more than just soil). Usually the kids are very participative and attentive. Some classes are harder than others; for me the first grade was a challenge because they hardly spoke any Portuguese. Since my sessions are very interactive I would wait (in vain) for a response until the teacher would finally help translate to Changana and the kids would all answer in unison.
Planting the plant is one of the best parts of the class. I will ask, “Who wants to help dig the hole?” and all the kids will scream, “Me! Me! Me!” We plant the plant and them I ask them who's plant it is and the class responds whichever grade they are in.
At least the above is what happens with all the classes except the seventh grade. In the seventh grade, the kids made fun of my mistakes in Portuguese, did not want to dance the potato, did not offer to help, and left me wanting to apologize to Mrs. McLaughlin.
But out of nine classes (two first grades and two sixth grades), if only one gave me a hard time, I suppose I should be pretty glad. I couldn't leave mad, anyway, because as soon as I walked out of the seventh grade classroom, I was greeted by third graders chanting, “agora vamos ver, quem danca mazamban!”
I sat down with all the teachers at the end of the week to get some feedback. Mademo's primary school was the first school I had worked with, and I was not sure how the teachers received the program. I joked with all the teachers about the seventh graders and they agreed that since they are the oldest they are always up to something. The seventh grade teacher apologized and said now I know what its like to be him everyday! The teachers all said that they knew the kids enjoyed the class and that they even learned something from my lessons. The female teachers then asked me how I like to cook the plants I had taught, and I talked with them for a while about the many ways to cook chaya.
I left Mademo excited to come back to see the plants after they had grown. I am already planning the second part of the Mademo lesson. I want to teach how to dry the leaves and
I am also strategizing how to deal with a classroom full of seventh grade Naomis.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
my first REDES meeting
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.
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
a luncheon and a lesson plan
Some of the people reading this blog may remember how frustrated I was a few months ago when I really wanted to be working, but all I seemed to be doing was becoming a pro at cracking open coconuts and eating mangos without looking like a slob. While I can call those two activities successes, my first few weeks in Manjacaze have been much more productive, if you are measuring productivity based on work tasks. This post is rather lengthy, as I have not had access to a computer/internet. If you are like me and have no patients for long blog posts, I would just skip to the last two paragraphs.
I think it might be helpful to give a bit more detail about what Mozaic does (as I am still learning myself, this will be an ongoing process). Mozaic is a network of South African churches that works in different Mozambican communities building capacity for church leadership as well as in the areas of agriculture and nutrition. It probably does not surprise any of you that my work is mostly focused on the nutrition rather than on building leadership capacity of local pastors (but who knows, maybe my years in USY have prepared me to be a great church teacher. I just don’t know if the Mozambican pastors would have as much fun dancing during the kaddish as I did. Worth looking into…)
Anyway, Mozaic’s nutrition project faces some serious challenges, most of which can be traced back to the weather. Gaza is very hot and dry and the soil is very sandy. No matter how many agriculture seminars you attend, you cannot change the fact that this complicates plant growth. To that end, Gerhard has identified a number of perennial plants and fruit trees that are high in nutrition and miraculously grow year-round in this sandy soil. Chaya, moringa, katuk, cranberry hibiscus, and garlic chives are a few that we are working on getting people to incorporate into their everyday diets. Getting people to try new things (aka behavior change) is definitely not the easiest thing, especially when it comes to a diet that has been almost unchanged for decades. Some of our beneficiaries, however, have seen how well the plants grow and have started to use them, sometimes even when other options are available in the market.
In addition to learning a lot about plants and trying to greenify my thumbs, I have spent the last few weeks talking with Gerhard and various people from the church to try to identify what sorts of things Mozaic might like me to work on. My first week here, Gerhard took me to see a dried up garden at the hospital. The hospital garden had great space, but also was getting way too much sun. Almost everything that we had planted (we being Mozaic, the garden was initially dug last year) had died during the dry, hot months of Febuary, March, and April. As we were looking in at the garden, we met a woman named Felicidade. We explained who I was and I added that I would be very excited to work with the hospital in the future, if she thought there was a place for me. It turns out that Felicidade is the hospital’s nutritionist, and she was fairly excited at the prospect of working with us.
That weekend, Gerhard and I arranged a lunch for Felicidade, Pastor Ricardo and his wife Louisa (the two leaders from the church in Manjacaze who I work most closely with, Louisa is in charge of the nutrition project and will be my counterpart throughout most of my projects), and a man named Sereigo, a local agriculture guru who is wasting away working for Save the Children where he is paid well but not really using his expertise. The six of us sat down to talk about the future of Mozaic in Manjacaze and about how, ideally, Mozaic would start working on more projects in the greater community. We had a nice lunch of m’chaya (so named after matapa, a traditional Mozambican dish, but this one was made with chaya) and a salad made with cranberry hibiscus and moringa. After lunch, we took a tour of the garden, and Felicidade looked genuinely impressed to see that some of the plants had not died and even asked to take some cuttings home. At that point we knew we had sold her and planned to re-work the hospital garden the coming week.
The next week, another group from South Africa came and was able to help us plant the hospital garden. We filled the garden with moringa and chaya and added beds of chives and katuk. Some brilliant person (yours truly) thought it might be a good idea to plant these perennials first and let them grow a bit to provide some shade to the area. Then, once the plants are growing and producing leaves, we can return and plant vegetables (I should give some credit to the permagardening training that I had last fall, but I really feel the genius idea was my own). We plan to continue monitoring the garden and I am hoping to come back and work with the women who cook for the patients to talk with them about how to prepare the plants in a nutritious way.
To keep up our connection with the hospital, I have been going everyday this week to watch palestras that the local activistas put on everyday at 7. Though the palestras are mainly in Changana (which I really need to and intend to learn), I think the opportunity to meet the activistas has been great. Everyday is a different group of six, and each day the group seems excited to be talking with people about HIV prevention and care. A lot of health volunteers are placed with an organization called ICAP (I honestly forget what this stands for but it’s a project out of Columbia’s School of Public Health), and I am pretty sure these activistas are also ICAP funded. I hope to look more into this and maybe work with this group in the future. Yesterday I had a great time with two older ladies who were talking with people waiting to get HIV tests about how to use condoms. Though the women they were talking with blushed at the idea of a female condom, the activistas knew all about it and showed the women how to use them. After their demonstration, I explained how you can use a papaya to do the demonstrations and the ladies were totally impressed.
The other big project I am working on is starting up a “Plant of the Week” class at Mozaic’s training Center. (I actually forgot to mention, Mozaic is just finishing a beautiful training center where people will be able to come and stay for week-long seminars. The first seminar was held two weeks ago, despite little things not being finished. In the next couple months we hope to put some last final touches on the place and make it something like a community center. In my mind it will eventually be like a Visitor’s Center at a National Park, with lots of things to look at and read about and learn from. We have a great garden outside that we are going to make placards for, so people will be able to walk around and learn about the plants that do grow well here in Manjacaze. We are also hoping to get funding for a fooze ball table, but that might be years down the road.) Last Sunday, I met with Mozaic’s beneficiaries and we spoke about the challenges they have in the area of nutrition and agriculture. After our discussion, I suggested that we start up a seminar series about different plants and agriculture techniques that might help address some of their problems. With Louisa’s help, the group agreed on a day for our first class, and I have spent the past few days brainstorming what we can have as our first subject. While we are going to start the seminars for the direct beneficiaries of our project, we hope to eventually expand and invite members of the community. In my head, sometimes the seminars will be technical (like learning how to make a drip irrigation system) and sometimes they will be a bit lighter (like how to make really delicious brownies without an oven). We will see how it all works out.
On a more personal note, I am really growing to like Manjacaze. It is great to be able to walk down the street and recognize the kids or to go to the market and walk right to the lady who gives you the best deal on tomatoes. I am starting to meet people and have become very close with a girl named Celest, who works for Mozaic doing mostly administrative things. She took me to my first ever Mozambican wedding a couple weeks ago, and though all I did was sweat it was a fun ceremony and we had a great time. She told me she wanted also wanted big wedding and I told her she better have it within two years so that I can go!
I have also started playing soccer somewhat regularly. I am pretty decent on defense, and though my team never wins, we always have a great time. Last week we decided to take the whole team out for ice cream afterwards, but the ice cream machine wasn’t turned on. 25 cokes later, everyone was happy and I went home with only a few bruises on my legs. Maybe by the end of the two years my team will eventually win.
I think it might be helpful to give a bit more detail about what Mozaic does (as I am still learning myself, this will be an ongoing process). Mozaic is a network of South African churches that works in different Mozambican communities building capacity for church leadership as well as in the areas of agriculture and nutrition. It probably does not surprise any of you that my work is mostly focused on the nutrition rather than on building leadership capacity of local pastors (but who knows, maybe my years in USY have prepared me to be a great church teacher. I just don’t know if the Mozambican pastors would have as much fun dancing during the kaddish as I did. Worth looking into…)
Anyway, Mozaic’s nutrition project faces some serious challenges, most of which can be traced back to the weather. Gaza is very hot and dry and the soil is very sandy. No matter how many agriculture seminars you attend, you cannot change the fact that this complicates plant growth. To that end, Gerhard has identified a number of perennial plants and fruit trees that are high in nutrition and miraculously grow year-round in this sandy soil. Chaya, moringa, katuk, cranberry hibiscus, and garlic chives are a few that we are working on getting people to incorporate into their everyday diets. Getting people to try new things (aka behavior change) is definitely not the easiest thing, especially when it comes to a diet that has been almost unchanged for decades. Some of our beneficiaries, however, have seen how well the plants grow and have started to use them, sometimes even when other options are available in the market.
In addition to learning a lot about plants and trying to greenify my thumbs, I have spent the last few weeks talking with Gerhard and various people from the church to try to identify what sorts of things Mozaic might like me to work on. My first week here, Gerhard took me to see a dried up garden at the hospital. The hospital garden had great space, but also was getting way too much sun. Almost everything that we had planted (we being Mozaic, the garden was initially dug last year) had died during the dry, hot months of Febuary, March, and April. As we were looking in at the garden, we met a woman named Felicidade. We explained who I was and I added that I would be very excited to work with the hospital in the future, if she thought there was a place for me. It turns out that Felicidade is the hospital’s nutritionist, and she was fairly excited at the prospect of working with us.
That weekend, Gerhard and I arranged a lunch for Felicidade, Pastor Ricardo and his wife Louisa (the two leaders from the church in Manjacaze who I work most closely with, Louisa is in charge of the nutrition project and will be my counterpart throughout most of my projects), and a man named Sereigo, a local agriculture guru who is wasting away working for Save the Children where he is paid well but not really using his expertise. The six of us sat down to talk about the future of Mozaic in Manjacaze and about how, ideally, Mozaic would start working on more projects in the greater community. We had a nice lunch of m’chaya (so named after matapa, a traditional Mozambican dish, but this one was made with chaya) and a salad made with cranberry hibiscus and moringa. After lunch, we took a tour of the garden, and Felicidade looked genuinely impressed to see that some of the plants had not died and even asked to take some cuttings home. At that point we knew we had sold her and planned to re-work the hospital garden the coming week.
The next week, another group from South Africa came and was able to help us plant the hospital garden. We filled the garden with moringa and chaya and added beds of chives and katuk. Some brilliant person (yours truly) thought it might be a good idea to plant these perennials first and let them grow a bit to provide some shade to the area. Then, once the plants are growing and producing leaves, we can return and plant vegetables (I should give some credit to the permagardening training that I had last fall, but I really feel the genius idea was my own). We plan to continue monitoring the garden and I am hoping to come back and work with the women who cook for the patients to talk with them about how to prepare the plants in a nutritious way.
To keep up our connection with the hospital, I have been going everyday this week to watch palestras that the local activistas put on everyday at 7. Though the palestras are mainly in Changana (which I really need to and intend to learn), I think the opportunity to meet the activistas has been great. Everyday is a different group of six, and each day the group seems excited to be talking with people about HIV prevention and care. A lot of health volunteers are placed with an organization called ICAP (I honestly forget what this stands for but it’s a project out of Columbia’s School of Public Health), and I am pretty sure these activistas are also ICAP funded. I hope to look more into this and maybe work with this group in the future. Yesterday I had a great time with two older ladies who were talking with people waiting to get HIV tests about how to use condoms. Though the women they were talking with blushed at the idea of a female condom, the activistas knew all about it and showed the women how to use them. After their demonstration, I explained how you can use a papaya to do the demonstrations and the ladies were totally impressed.
The other big project I am working on is starting up a “Plant of the Week” class at Mozaic’s training Center. (I actually forgot to mention, Mozaic is just finishing a beautiful training center where people will be able to come and stay for week-long seminars. The first seminar was held two weeks ago, despite little things not being finished. In the next couple months we hope to put some last final touches on the place and make it something like a community center. In my mind it will eventually be like a Visitor’s Center at a National Park, with lots of things to look at and read about and learn from. We have a great garden outside that we are going to make placards for, so people will be able to walk around and learn about the plants that do grow well here in Manjacaze. We are also hoping to get funding for a fooze ball table, but that might be years down the road.) Last Sunday, I met with Mozaic’s beneficiaries and we spoke about the challenges they have in the area of nutrition and agriculture. After our discussion, I suggested that we start up a seminar series about different plants and agriculture techniques that might help address some of their problems. With Louisa’s help, the group agreed on a day for our first class, and I have spent the past few days brainstorming what we can have as our first subject. While we are going to start the seminars for the direct beneficiaries of our project, we hope to eventually expand and invite members of the community. In my head, sometimes the seminars will be technical (like learning how to make a drip irrigation system) and sometimes they will be a bit lighter (like how to make really delicious brownies without an oven). We will see how it all works out.
On a more personal note, I am really growing to like Manjacaze. It is great to be able to walk down the street and recognize the kids or to go to the market and walk right to the lady who gives you the best deal on tomatoes. I am starting to meet people and have become very close with a girl named Celest, who works for Mozaic doing mostly administrative things. She took me to my first ever Mozambican wedding a couple weeks ago, and though all I did was sweat it was a fun ceremony and we had a great time. She told me she wanted also wanted big wedding and I told her she better have it within two years so that I can go!
I have also started playing soccer somewhat regularly. I am pretty decent on defense, and though my team never wins, we always have a great time. Last week we decided to take the whole team out for ice cream afterwards, but the ice cream machine wasn’t turned on. 25 cokes later, everyone was happy and I went home with only a few bruises on my legs. Maybe by the end of the two years my team will eventually win.
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