1 Year Down, 1 To Go...

Hello All,

I figured I would finally sit down and try to knock out an e-mail update for the holidays before things get busy again. I am still writing the bi-weekly online articles about my experience and have switched from writing for GayWired.com to Advocate.com. These articles have been a great outlet for me which is why I have sadly neglected the blog.

As I wrap up my first full year in Mozambique, I can help but look how far I have come from when I was first stepped off the plane in Maputo or was delivered to my village 3 months later. When I began training in October of 2007 with sixty-nine other PCVs-to-be, I was generally frustrated. I was mostly upset with myself for leaving friends and family in the states and was wondering if joining the Peace Corps was the right decision (yea, I realize it was a little late to be thinking that, but still...).

The first two weeks were rough, but after sitting down with the head of training, she knocked some sense into me and made me realize that I wanted to be here and to make the experience count. However it was the first few months in my community that really put me to the test. I faced the same frustrations I did before, but this time I also directed my anger towards Peace Corps, my organization and members of my community. I was the first mulungo (white person) to live in the community since the Portuguese left and most people didn't know what to make of me. I would get ignored when I said hello to people, be turned down or left alone when I invited friends over for dinner, and was made fun of at work for the way I dressed, talked, acted, you name it. No one wanted to start projects with me or have anything to do with me.

Having spoken to former volunteers, they all said this was bound to happen and just to wait it out. Low and behold, one evening I was sitting on my veranda reading a book and all of a sudden, out of the blue, it hit me. Like a light switch, all my frustrations went away and I was filled with this whole new perspective on my new life here in Mozambique. It really was strange how it all happened so suddenly and without any real trigger. I continued to take calls from other volunteers who were also frustrated and I told them to just wait till the light switch went off. One by one, they all called me and described a similar revelation that I had experienced.

Anyways, since that evening I have truly enjoyed my time here and have viewed myself as a very minor character in a much bigger picture. I took the weight off my shoulders of being “The Mulungo” and instead just tried to be a member of the community. I continue to have frustrations with life here and the various situations that seem to only happen in Mozambique, but rather than let these moments trip me up, I learned to laugh them off and keep going. I have also learned to find joy in simple things that I see day to day, like groups of women singing or children playing. I've learned to slow down and appreciate sitting under a mango tree on an astera mat just enjoying the breeze. I have learned that I don't need to be doing something all the time, but can simply enjoy my life here and the simpler pleasures around me.

Because of my proximity of Maputo, I am able to make it into the city once every month or two for pleasure or on Peace Corps business. I have made a fantastic group of friends in there, consisting of gay and straight development workers from around the globe. One is a gay Puerto Rican who moved here from Seattle and has been like a mother to me. He, along with an adorable Argentinian HIV doctor and the always entertaining Ambassador to the Netherlands, have quickly become my posse and have kept me laughing. Several other development friends are former PC volunteers, so they have taken me in and made me feel at home. I spent Thanksgiving with them an about 40 other development workers at the house of my friend Mindy. I will try and put up pictures soon.

I recommended my village for an education volunteer and one was sent earlier this month. She seems nice and it will be good to have another person close by (about 20 minutes) to help settle in and exchange ideas. She is a chemistry teacher at the secondary school where I have my theater group and she might be interested in helping out with the kids. I have also started teaching the basics of yoga to some of the interested students and they really like it.

2008 has been a long and somewhat lonely road, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. Being alone has forced me to become comfortable with silence and with myself. It has made me appreciate the world around me and grow as an individual. And all in just one year! ;-)

No, I have a long way to go in life, even though my time in Mozambique is halfway over. But I am looking forward to the 2^nd half, in the hopes that I will continue to come across new experiences and learn new things.

I hope everyone has a great holiday season surrounded with their friends and loved ones. I give a big thank-you to my family who has worked to keep my spirits up this first year, which is the toughest. Also to my friends around the country, from the girls at AAFA to the WeHo Chamber folks to Jeffrey and Pey, my RPCV pals, for their care packages, letters and great e-mails. Despite not having everyone around, I cannot help but be reminded how very lucky I am to have each of you in my life.

Stay in touch and have a safe holiday season.

Love Always,

Z

GayWired.com articles

I have not been blogging as much lately because the GayWired.com articles have been a great outlet for me. Will try and get back in the swing on things, but until then, if you are interested, you can read what I wrote on the site. Here are a couple of my favorites:

http://gaywired.com/Article.cfm?ID=19969
http://gaywired.com/Article.cfm?ID=19781
http://gaywired.com/Article.cfm?ID=19645
http://gaywired.com/Article.cfm?ID=19469

Pictures from Jeff's visit

Um, this should work...

http://www1.snapfish.com/shareereg/p=273301220107470551/l=418891049/g=13481298/otsc=SYE/otsi=SALB/pns/share/p=273301220107470551/l=418891049/g=13481298/otsc=SYE/otsi=SALB

Jeffrey's Visit

An entry by my buddy Jeff, who was my first visitor in Mozambique. We traveled for two weeks and had a blast experiencing Moz and Swaziland. I asked him to give a third-party perspective of the experience, especially since he had been through Peace Corps. Hope you enjoy!

"After 46 hours of traveling I finally arrived in Mozambique. The trip there was EXHAUSTING - and at one of my FOUR layovers - I swore to never travel again - but as soon as I landed in Maputo - the adrenaline kicked in and I was totally fine and with almost zero jet lag.
Since I was recently a Peace Corps Volunteer in Ukraine, I can easily say that Zachery has been in Mozambique long enough to feel settled and I know he will be there until the end of his 2 years. His language skills are very good and he can totally take care of things. And he is clearly very happy with his life there. He has a large group of friends and support network and has done a great job of adjusting to his new environment.

The capital, Maputo, has a very interesting feeling and is totally different than the rest of Mozambique. It feels very Spanish / Latin in culture - and yet African at the same time. It looks a lot like the photos I have seen of Cuba. There are some older cars - but most of them are modern small European cars. The official language is Portuguese so I was able to read most of the signs and understand them...even with my poor Spanish. The streets are in terrible shape as are the sidewalks with potholes and dirt and garbage all over the place. It is not clean and yet I didn’t feel as a dirty as I did when I was in Delhi or Kathmandu. And there are lots of abandoned buildings all over the place. There are very few white faces on the streets and they are typically either tourists (very few) or mostly aid workers. The EU sends more money there than almost any other country as Mozambique is one of the poorest countries in Africa.
Throughout Mozambique I saw LOTS of Unicef, World Vision, Save the Children, etc. vans and met quite a few people who work for these organizations. You can pretty much assume that most any white face is with one of those organizations. They are the majority of foreigners I saw there. So when people there look at us - they do not see “rich Americans” but more - people there to help them. This makes it easier for Zachery as people don’t see him as a spy (like they did me in Ukraine) and yet - he it is much harder for him to blend in and make friends like I did in Ukraine.

The entire vacation we took only local transportation (chapas) and I have never seen so many people cram into a tiny mini bus. It was almost like clowns at a circus. People were all over each other and just when you thought they couldn’t get one more person in - they would stop and pick up 3 more people. And let’s just say - it smelled quite ripe in there. And this is their winter so I can not begin to imagine how unbearably hot and smelly they are in the summer. My hat’s off to Zachery for dealing with them on a regular basis!

After 2 days in Maputo, we took a 3 hour chapa to Xai Xai – the provincial capital near his village of Chongoene, had lunch there, and then went on to his village. We then got off the hot and dirty chapa and I looked at him and said “Oh my god – we’re in Africa!” Most of the homes in his village are mud huts. Some of them have thatch walls and tin roofs. His home has a concrete floor and electricity. Yet no running water - so the “bathroom” (read hole in the ground) and “shower” (read bucket baths) are actually quite comfortable and clean. Since it is now winter (highs around 85 and lows around 55) it's comfortable taking a shower - later in the day. He is doing well health wise – yet has lost weight. We had numerous talks about ways for him to gain weight and I think it’s safe to say he will be more focused on this being a priority. I was 100% healthy the entire time I was there. His food options are incredibly limited. He has an empregada (maid) who cooks most of his food, cleans his house 3 days a week, takes care of his dog and cats, goes grocery shopping for him, and does ALL of his laundry. He pays her $20 a month. She is very sweet and she clearly is very attached to Zachery.

Everywhere we went - people smiled on the streets and said hello to each other. There is a warmth and sincerity in total strangers. I was not constantly in fear of my knapsack being stolen. Or his house being broken in. Or someone mugging us on the street. There is not the constant oppressive feeling I felt daily in Ukraine. Mozambique has one of the highest rates of HIV/AIDS and yet I didn’t really feel it. The only way I noticed is that you don’t see many people older than 40. Every once in a while you will see a woman dressed all in black who is in mourning. It is actually quite a beautiful country and I felt totally safe. He has beautiful places to go on "vacation". My life in Ukraine felt very familiar and similar to my life in the US - only on a different continent. His life is totally different than anything anyone would ever live in the US. And that is both exciting and exhausting.

We then spent a few days further north than his village. Spent one day with his friend Akisha in Inhambane and then we went to Bara Lodge. Bara is along the beach and is gorgeous. It’s a resort area and incredibly beautiful, relaxing, great food, and was a perfect two days. We shared a small room (bunk beds) with one of his Peace Corps friends - Anne. The bathroom was in the next building over. It was very comfortable - minus the TONS of mosquitoes at night. (Luckily we had mosquito nets to sleep under). My only complaint is that most of the other people there were tourists from South Africa. Rich, white, South Africans. I developed an incredible dislike for them. Zach started these feelings within me - but many of the people I met there reinforced these feelings. We saw almost no other tourist there except whites from South Africa. They were incredibly obnoxious every time they spoke with someone on staff there. Racism is alive and well.

After two days of relaxing we had to leave. And it took us EIGHT hours on various chapas to get back to his village of Chongoene. At one point we were trying to transfer at a bus station. We literally were on 5 different chapas at this one station! The first one tried to leave and they couldn’t get it started. The next one decided it didn’t want to take us all where we wanted to go. I lost track of what all the issues where - but all I remember is that we kept taking our bags and transferring to another chapa. We both had nothing to eat and minimal to drink as we didn’t want to have to go to the bathroom as they don’t make bathroom breaks. Finally around 4:00 pm we bought some cookies / crackers and ate them. By the time we arrived back to his village it was dark. We were hot, tired, dehydrated, dirty, and walked in the pitch dark the 2 miles back to his home. His empregada had dinner waiting for us. It was a mush of beans, fresh coconut milk, and a root vegetable. It was actually quite tasty but not terribly filling. It was too dark and cold to take showers. We played cards for a little bit and then it started to rain. And then pour. And since he has a tin roof - it sounds like the house if being shot at by gun fire. It was an amazing sound. And then the power went out. About 15 minutes later, at 10:15 pm we realized that it was probably time to call it a day. I decided to go to the outhouse one last time before I went to sleep. I was greeted by a frog sitting right by the hole in the ground. I squatted, did my business and went back in the house. I looked at Zachery and said “This was a LONG hard day. I don’t know how you do it. I am not sure I could do this. And this was the best day of our trip - I had so much fun.”

Zachery and I then took various chapas to Swaziland. Everyone told us it would be 3-4 hours MAX. So - we left at 9:00 a.m. figuring we would get there in time for lunch.
I was amazed at how different Swaziland is from Mozambique. It's cleaner, richer, and the people are even friendlier. And the food was terrific. Everyone speaks English in Swaziland which makes it a lot easier than Mozambique where Portuguese is the official language. And Swazi also has the highest rate of HIV / AIDS in the world - at 26-40% (depending on what statistic you use!) There were billboards everywhere and it's clear that AIDS has had it’s impact on the country.

We learned, when someone told us the length of a chapa ride - we needed to double the estimate. Well - we were wrong - it took us EIGHT and a half hours to get to our destination on 4 different chapas and one taxi. We got used to being able to go all day without eating lunch - and minimal bathroom breaks. About 5 hours into this journey, I was hot, tired, hungry, and getting crabby. There was this 8 month old baby in the seat ahead of mine who eyes were transfixed on me. I found myself having this conversation in my head with his baby. I came to the realization that who am I to complain?! Thank god I am lucky to be healthy enough to be able to travel. Thank god I am lucky to be able to even afford this trip. This poor child will have a life of hell. He will be lucky if he lives past 40. He will probably not get past a 4th grade education, or ever even leave his country. He is sitting on this hot, uncomfortable bus and seems to be perfectly content. Who am I to complain? And for the rest of the ride and every other chapa I was on - I was totally fine. I think I just needed to put it all into perspective.

We finally arrived - at one of the most gorgeous places I have ever been – Phonphonyne Lodge. It is nestled in the middle of the mountains and is gorgeous. They only have rooms available for about 20 guests. And there is nothing to do there but hike, relax, eat, sleep, and read. It was much colder (down to 54 degrees inside our tent one night) and had amazing views. The main building is this beautifully decorated lodge - with Andrea Bocelli blaring on their stereo.

Two days later we took a 5 hours chapa to our next stop. Also a resort type place (Malendela’s) which had LOTS of people - especially tourist. We read, relaxed and went white water rafting.
After 2 days there – we took a 6 hour chapa back to Maputo. Zachery recently met the Dutch Ambassador, and he offered for us to stay as his residence since he has 6 bedrooms. So we took him up his offer and stayed there our last 2 nights. Our last morning there, the Ambassador had left for work by the time we woke up. Zachery and I were watching TV and one of Ambassador’s maids walked in and asked if we were ready to be served our breakfast. We both looked at each other and smiled. We walked into the dining room with a beautifully set table. It was one of the most elegant breakfasts I have ever been served! We both laughed and I asked him if really is in the Peace Corps?!

I consider myself to be a quite well traveled – as I have now been to 44 countries. This was one of the physically hardest trips I have ever taken. Everything from the long plane rides there, and the hot and dirty chapas, to the limited food options and physical energy needed to make it through the days. It was a true pleasure and honor to spend time with Zachery. We traveled extremely well together and there was never a second of tension between us. He is a remarkable person - and ever more special is that he is 25 years old. He is a very mature old soul - who yet also has the playfulness of a 25 year old. Many people in Mozambique asked me if I was his father...... .oh well - I guess I may be middle aged - but I sure don't feel it!"

Jeffrey Janis

I've been a bad blogger....

It’s been quite some time since I have posted an update to the blog and informed the general public of my well-being. I was asked to write a bi-weekly column for GayWired.com about my travels and experiences and for a while that was a good substitute outlet for my thoughts, frustrations and failed attempts at humor. But like a man with two cross mistresses, I am able to hop between them when one becomes too much to handle. However, if interested, you can search for past articles I have written by going to GayWired.com and just typing my name in the search.

Much has been going on since my last update. I have experienced both a Mozambican and American Independence Day. I survived a Mozambican Cultural Festival that was true to its name. I also got my diver’s certification so that I can finally enjoy the Mozambican coast that is famous for their underwater sights.

Mozambican Independence Day came and went without too much fanfare. I decided to invite Melissa over and we cooked, played cards, watched The Office on her computer and walked around the community. The weekend of July 4th, however, turned out to be a much more festive occasion. Melissa and I went with our Maputo development friends to Tofo Beach in Inhambane Province about 3.5 hours north of me. We were saying goodbye to the Emily, a visiting cousin of a member of the group, and to Russell, a Rocking Aussie who was in country working with the Clinton Foundation and was returning to the States. We stayed at a hostile on the beach (Fatima’s), played cards, drank a little beer, watched the sun rise on the water and set against the dunes and generally relaxed in the sand. Games of Bocci and horseback riding were enjoyed and overall everyone left feeling much closer and more relaxed than when we had started. Although, despite the occasion that brought us together, I doubt any of us felt more patriotic…

The following weekdn Xai Xai held the annual Mozambican Cultural Festival and decided to alert the public about a week in advance. With a late start and a rushed promotion, the festival was already living up to its name. However the music, dancing, theatre, food and exhibitions were impressive and worthy of a festival representing so many diverse people of one “culture”. I stayed with David, a 2nd year volunteer buddy, and a group of us went to the Gastronomia where we were able to buy food that were specialties in each of the 11 Provinces. The Chicken Zambeziana made with lime and coconut was nice, as was the okra dish made with shrimp and coconut milk. However, I went a little wild when I got to the crafts exhibition from artists around the country. It was so refreshing to see not just the variety of materials used in crafts from various parts of Moz, but also that art was being celebrated at all! Mozambique is just finally coming around to recognizing, resuscitating and honing traditional crafts and marketing them to the public. I bought a painting from Niassa Province, a hanging woven cloth from Manica Province, a Botik from Maputo Province and put in a request for a traditional bed/sofa made by the wife of the Gaza Governor. I walked out feeling better than if I had maxxed out my credit card at a sale in Bloomingdale’s. The bareness of my walls at home were starting to grate on me.

During the festival, I also got the chance to meet Matt, a family friend of another volunteer, Megan. He was visiting Mozambique for over a week before his trip to Tanzania where he planned to climb Mount Kilamanjaro. He had come out to his family about a year and a half ago, and it was nice to be in the presence of and to laugh with another gay guy. When I heard that Matt was in town to sample some of the amazing diving that Moz is known for, I couldn’t resist going up to Barra Beach and getting scuba certified with Megan, our friend Anne, and her friend Emily. While Matt went on the more “adventurous” dives at 25 meters, the four of us hopped between classes in the pool and dives at about 11 meters to test our newly learned underwater skills. Our Swedish instructor, Nick, and his Swedish apprentice were amazing. We soon found ourselves exchanging information and wanting to keep up with everyone at the dive center. It was great to get certified as a group and we didn’t stop cracking ourselves up the whole time. Starting in September, I want to head back to swim with the whale sharks and manta rays. Hopefully this will turn into an interesting and promising hobby; and at roughly $40 per dive, it is a relatively manageable one.

However, after days of diving, laughing and enjoying the friendship of each other, it was time to return to reality and head back to site and our organizations. Megan and I were lucky to hitch hike back to Xai Xai in a comfortable car driven by a man working for the Highways Administration. After getting food for the animals and checking my mail, I jumped on the first chapa back to site, where I was seated next to a schizophrenic man speaking on his invisible cell phone as he ate a wooden stick he found. I paid for his chapa ride, went home to play with Chissy and realized how much I love this country.

ZS

Pictures...Finally!

Sorry for the radio silence lately. Here is a link to pictures from the Youth Conference (JOMA) in Chimoio and of a get-together at the beach with some international aid workers (many of whom are former PC volunteers!). Meeting them was not only a great way to relax, but also bolstered my desire to do overseas work. Enjoy the pictures!

http://www2.snapfish.com/share/p=89461210078245793/l=373198598/g=35776459/otsc=SYE/otsi=SALB

There is a God...

After months of arguing with TDM and waiting (there is a lot of waiting in Peace Corps, I'm learning), this week we finally set my office up with internet. Internet!!! Can't you believe it? We start classes next week on what the internet is and how we can use it as a tool for our daily lives. I figure by the end of our tutorial I will have everyone with a MySpace page, a Facebook page, and addicted to YouTube.

Nah, this is actually a big step forward for them. Not only can we apply for grants online, but we can research information on health and agriculture and hopefully open their minds to the wealth of information that is in the world. Everyone is excited, although most aren't sure exactly what they are excited about. They just know that the cities have Internet and now we do too. Pretty swanky, huh?

I was kinda giving myself a little grief this week about how this will make my experience less "Peace Corps" but the more I thought about it, the more I realized something. While the overall principles of President Kennedy's Peace Corps have remained the same, the tools we use to accomplish those goals have evolved. Nothing wrong with that, it's just life. I mean, we all do our jobs differently then they would have been done 20 years ago. Hell, some of us are doing jobs that didn't even exist 20 years ago!

I have to go now though. I checked my e-mail about 12 times, but I want to check one more time...just in case.

LU,

Z

I'm sick...

and I’ve been sick for a week now although it is finally showing signs of slowing down. We had a major cold front come through (and boy does it get chilly here) signaling the start of winter, which led to me getting a cold. This of course led to a sore throat and general achy body, which was then followed by an infection in my nose. My upper lip and right nostril is pretty swollen and sore, but the rest of me is feeling better. Of course, that was until I got out of bed the other day and strained my lower back. GETTING OUT OF BED!!! What 24 year old strains their back, especially just getting out of bed??? My nana is 93 and plays golf every week, but I can’t get up in the morning without pulling something. There is no justice…

I used to kinda enjoy getting sick in the states. Think about it…you get to miss work and watch movies all day, you get sympathy from friends and family and people bring you soup. But here, I am confined to my cold house with nothing to do but read and sleep. I found myself huddled under my blanket, the springs from my mattress jabbing into my back, dreaming of the days when I could just run out for an Egg McMuffin, or a McGriddle, or a McSOMETHING!

While I was in bed one day, my neighbor (the owner of the house) and his wife came over to have a chat. They were concerned that I wasn’t eating properly, which is what made me sick. I assured them that I cook a variety of healthy meals and that me being sick was just a passing thing. They told me that the eggs I was eating in the morning with my various scrambles weren’t as nutritious as American eggs, so I had to eat different foods to stay healthy. Then they asked me what I had for dinner the previous night and I told them I had salad with lettuce, cabbage, tomato, boiled egg and some tuna that was sent to me. "NO NO NO," they said. "You needed to eat more rice and xima with traditional Mozambican cuisine - that’s where you’ll get your vitamins!" I tried to explain that a salad like the one I had made had sufficient nutritional value, but they were convinced otherwise. So, realizing I did not have the strength to bust out my nutritional presentation at that given moment, I relented and said I would eat more Mozambican dishes and lived to educate another day. They were happy.

One positive thing in my life is my empregada. I know, I know…I wasn’t comfortable getting a housekeeper at first, figuring that I could easily wash clothes, clean dishes and carry water. In fact, several of us in training felt that way. But we came to find out that culturally it is expected that if you have the money to hire someone, you do so. There are such few jobs available, it seems greedy for you to horde money rather than pay someone to do things for you. So when I arrived to site my neighbors recommended a 15-year-old girl who was the daughter of a friend, despite my apprehensions about having someone that young. She turned out to be too afraid to talk to me so it didn’t work out. The 2nd woman they recommended was older but didn’t work out either. I won’t say why exactly, but she must have loved sweets because her fingers were very….sticky. Finally I told my neighbor’s wife, Aquima (whom I have bonded with) that I was looking for more of an older woman…a Dona, with kids, who actually needed some help and wanted the job. Turns out she knew of a woman who lives right behind them who has 3 kids and needs a job to support the family. She is a delightful woman, a hard worker and a great new addition to my life here. We sit and chat about life in Mozambique and she is starting to tell me more and more about herself. She moved to the village because of her husband, but is disappointed on how few jobs are available. She and the kids rarely see the money that her husband brings in from Xai Xai so I am trying to make sure that what money she makes from me stays with her and the kids. I can trust her to feed the pets if I am away and she has even started cooking some traditional Mozambican dishes with me. When we cook, she takes half the food for her and her family, since I really only need two nights worth of leftovers. For a beginning, we are meshing quite nicely.

Guy Stuff And My New SPCA....

Last Saturday I arrived home from a 16-hour bus ride from the city of Chimoio in the north (of me) where I was attending a weeklong, all-male conference (JOMA) on communication with two of my theatre group students and a professor. They were learning better theatre techniques, while also discussing healthy masculinity, leadership and community change. I was lucky enough to manage a daily reflection group of students to discuss various topics, problems and feelings encountered at the conference and was really blown away by these kids. Hearing their stories was heartbreaking, but then listening to their perspective on everything and their desire to breakout of this hand that life had dealt them was inspiring. One kid in a group came out as being HIV positive which, given the stigma, is HUGE to do amongst your peers and especially so as a teenager. These kids talked about the problems in their families and communities but not once did anyone mention leaving Mozambique. The common theme was working hard in school and building their communities from within. As a person who fled his conservative home state for the liberal comforts of California, I have to say I was a bit emboldened by their courage and dedication. It gave me that 2nd wind (or 3rd…I forget which one I’m on now) and made me realize that this country will continue to change dramatically as soon as time passes and this new generation has time to show us what they can do.

Anyways, after my 16-hour bus ride, I arrive home to find that my neighbor has recently acquired a puppy…Leon. Chissy was curious about the new addition and was generally open to the idea till the little bugger jump up between her legs and bit her right in the vagina. Scared that damn girl so bad she leapt in the air and ran 20 feet. That unfortunate incident aside, the two seem to be playing well together. Leon is a fighter and a little too big for his britches, but Chissy is establishing the obvious…that she is the bigger dog.

Two dogs and four cats later, I have yet to get a damn animal that produces food rather than just consumes it.

ZS

My growing sense of humor…

Some of you know that I went through a rough patch for about 4 weeks between February and March where I was pretty frustrated with things in my life and lonely for the people not in my life. Thankfully, with the help of other volunteers, a little yoga and a LOT of reflection I worked through it and am in a much better headspace now. However as a result, I learned that I have to sit back and seek humor in the situations in which I find myself; looking for little equations of reality that equal out to a pretty funny moment.

Like when your chapa blows a tire at 70 kilometers an hour, propelling you into oncoming traffic and veering away just as an 18-wheeler roars past. And then when the cobrador (money collector) opens the door to check on the damage, the entire door falls off onto the ground. Funny, right? Like something you’d see in a National Lampoon movie.

Or when the local children all shout “Mulungo! (white-person)” whenever they see you coming even before they have learned words like “mai” and “pai”.

Or when you set a meeting for 1pm and people start to trickle in at 2:30.

Or when your barber asks you why the hair on your back is not on your head?

But my favorite chuckle always comes from the music videos produced in Mozambique. These are classic and oddly fascinating. You can see them in barracas or sometimes in a really tricked-out chapa where the owner has made the wise decision to invest a portion of his limited profits into installing a TV and DVD player. This of course enables him to watch these music videos while swerving to miss potholes and driving at a safe 65 miles an hour down the EN1. Anyways, I notice that there is such a dichotomy between what the Mozambicans want to mimic in surrounding cultures and the limited available talent and resources to do so. Like trying to pimp-out your mother’s station wagon in high school, or trying to make an American flag out of red, orange and green pieces of cloth. Difficult, right? Mostly these videos are people standing in a field or on a farm with animals in the background, and swaying back and forth while the camera zooms in and out in the attempt to make it look like there is some action and excitement going on. The sound editing is pretty bad with people mouthing words that just aren’t quite there yet. The choreography is relatively basic with the idea that as long as you put at least 2 girls showing their stomachs and shaking their hips people will watch. However, my favorite move thus far has been the “slow-motion-jump-from-rock.” Sort of like what you would see in the music videos of the 1980’s where a performer would leap into the air from a structure in slow motion at a critical point in the song. Alas, in this particular video the director apparently forgot to explain to the performer the concept and simply said, “Just jump off the rock.” The result is a middle-aged man slumping off a rock like you would step off a stool in your kitchen….only now it’s in slow motion.

This isn’t meant to laugh AT this facet of Mozambican culture, as there are MANY examples at which my Mozambican friends can (and do) laugh at ours (like the idea that you would ever kiss a dog or let it lick your face…that can kill you, you know?). But finding humor in everyday life is helpful in getting past moments that would normally derive stress and frustration. In other words, it keeps this Mulungo sane.

ZS

That's it!

I've reached my breaking point! I can handle the cute e-mails, the pictures you guys send of everyone having a good time, and the care packages that remind me of my life back home, but Joe Clapsaddle has gone too far! Upon receiving his package this week, I opened it up to find an array of adorable bowties, fabulous skin care products and….a bottle of Hendricks Gin. Hendricks Gin!!! I mean, the nerve! It's hard enough being away from you all without Joe taunting me with the luxuries and memories of home. It's just cruel! I cursed his name and vowed to donate the bottle to charity.

Well while I was in such a fussy, I noticed that by a FLUKE I just so happened to have one random cucumber in my fridge and by ACCIDENT I happened to have a glass available and by SHEER COINCIDENCE there was ice ready. So what's a boy to do other than indulge himself just a teeny tinny sip, right?

Joe Clapsaddle, a man after my own heart and a fellow sporter of bowties, and the gang at the WeHo Chamber managed to bring a moment of style, taste and panache to an unshaven boy in a village halfway around the world.

Thanks.

Z

I need to learn to just stop talking….

The other day I was sitting outside with my co-workers helping prepare lunch for the activistas participating in a health seminar. I was playing and giggling with a toddler when I made the offhanded comment about wanting to have kids one day (I have been feeling RIDICULOUSLY maternal lately, so don’t be surprised if I come home with a troupe of children accompanying me). Upon hearing my comment, the women said that I needed to find a good woman first to have kids. Having gotten quite good at skirting the girlfriend/marriage issue, I posed the idea that I could simply adopt a child and raise them as my own. This is when I should have stopped talking…

They proceeded to tell me that I could adopt, but A) had to have a wife, and B) had to have at least one biological child. Why, I asked, couldn’t I simply just adopt? I mean there are plenty of orphan children in Mozambique and America in need of good families. Why was it so important that I have a biological child? Well, you would have thought I had that black was white and up was down! I have never seen them so galvanized around a single issue! They were adamant that I could not call an adopted child my son or daughter. One woman even went so far as to say if I gave the child my last name I would be stealing it! She called me a robber!

Not wanting to back down (and loving a good argument) I started posing questions to get them to think about their opinion. Why was a biological child so important? What were they differences between adopted and biological children? They said that I could treat the children the same, but then why was it a necessity that I have one over the other? Then I started to ask them what they thought about women not wanting to go through the ordeal of pregnancy but still wanting to raise children - or women who were unable to have children but were willing to adopt. In the end, no matter what direction I approached the issue they refused to look at it any differently; stating that it would be unconscionable for me to simply raise a child as my own without naturally spawning another Zachery Junior. They kept going back to say that their view on the issue was because of their culture. But I reminded them that cultures change and that even a few years ago, they probably wouldn’t have had the jobs they currently hold because of a particular cultural view. That gave them pause.

I can’t wait to send them a Christmas card in 5 years of me, my husband, and little Gabriel or Annabelle sitting around a Christmas tree. One big unnatural happy family. We should all be so lucky.

One Love (some kid said that to me the other day...)

Z

Dona Gina

So when I arrived back from Maputo I was told that Dona Gina was sick. You remember that Dona Gina was the lovely widow who cooked me my first meals at site and with whom I have been trading recipes and baked goods ever since. She has been the most welcoming and comforting person to me thus far at site and always makes me laugh. Well I found out this week that she was indeed not sick, but had just arrived back from the Provencal hospital and was recovering from being attacked by bandits at her house. Apparently she was taking a bano (bath) when someone came up behind her and took a machete to her head and then stole items from her loja (store). When I found this out I was horrified. Of course I did what any good southerner does when confronted with tragedy…I cooked. I brought her over some meals and checked to see if she was feeling better. Thankfully she was and we both prayed and thanked God that she was alive and not permanently injured. What is even more troubling is that she saw and knew who the attacker was and he broke into her loja again a week later to try and steal more stuff. The police apprehended the man, but then for some reason they left the cell open and he escaped! I was shocked when she told me this, not only because of the incompetence of the duty officer, but also for the danger that this puts back on her. But the overall thing to remember is that she is OK and recovering well. Keep her in your prayers and hopefully she will be back to work soon. A new, bigger loja just opened up right around the corner from her and the owner has a connection in Maputo and is able to beat her prices. She is losing customers so I am going to sit down with her and look at another business model to see if she can’t find another niche in the community.

I live in a relatively well-lit and populated area so I don’t feel anymore in danger because of this, but have been more aware of my surroundings lately. Months ago, upon request, dad sent me an awesome hunting knife which I keep right by my bed, giving me a GREAT sense of false security…lol. But it helps me sleep at night, dreaming of the intruder that breaks into the house, to which I can go all Chuck Norris on his ass.

xoxo

Z

"...That's why this kitty....is a tramp..."

After 5 days in Maputo for regional meetings, I was eager to get back home to my own lumpy bed and spend some overdue time with my pets. I had gotten a text from my neighbour who is watching the kids for me while I was away, saying that “Gato tem bebes.” I was hoping that maybe I misunderstood the word “bebes” and that it was actually a derivative from the verb Bebir, to drink. Maybe my cat was drunk and my neighbour felt the need to inform me. But sadly, our Portuguese skills are both decent and I arrived home to three kittens huddled in my kitchen. How could this happen?? When did Sammy get preggers? My cat is only a year and a half old! She’s too young to have kids! How could I have raised a cat that turns out to be a teenage mother? And where is the father in all this? I felt so hurt, like a dad realizing that his sweet little daughter who made the honor roll last semester is really stripping down at the Eager Beaver to make some extra money to pay for her boyfriend’s smack habit. You thought you recognized her the last time you were there with the boys from work, but she ducked behind the curtain so fast that you just convinced yourself you were being paranoid. Next thing you know you’re finding singles everywhere and her clothes smell like gin and Fanta. Ugh, anyways…

To top it off, she has the maternal instincts of Britney Spears. I’d be less surprised if she left a can of formula on the stove and took a weekend trip to Vegas thinking the kids would be alright on their own for a little bit. I woke up the other night and found that she had put one of her kittens in a random box in my room and left her. SHE LEFT A DUMPSTER KITTY! She is constantly abandoning the kittens to go sleep in her regular spot in my room, to which I have to bring her back and remind her of her motherly duties. As soon as the kittens start whining to be fed, she looks up at me as if to say, “I think I’ve made a terrible mistake.” This is all in addition to her still leaving the house each night, I’m sure to get knocked up again. I figure she is out clubbing, trying to score free drinks from older, more desperate male cats. But things are getting better. She is sleeping with the kittens through the night and they are whining a lot less (correlation? I think so.) At night we still play house, but now it has a more realistic edge. She saunters in after being out all evening, and I look up from my book and shout, “You’re a whore….just like your mother!” Then I throw my glass of scotch at the wall beside her and she runs crying into the other room. Well, the glass is plastic and the drink is mango juice, so it doesn’t have quite the desired effect but she still plays along.

Chissy is still my sweet little puppy girl. She would never whore around like her big sister. Sweet Chissy…..Sweet, Innocent Chissy….

Interesting Article...

http://www.alertnet.org/thenews/newsdesk/L1236638.htm

Thanks to Mr Key for sending it to me. Sadly, this problem is only exacerbated when some teachers engage in transactional sex with students for grades. Not an uncommon problem.

New Pictures!

Ola Everyone,

Here are some new pictures. Just click on the link below and let me know if you have trouble.

http://www2.snapfish.com/share/p=951291204273644595/l=355998900/g=35776459/otsc=SYE/otsi=SALB

Things here have been interesting. The days are very lonely lately, but when I can articulate it better I'll put something in the blog. I'm still very happy to be here though.

On a funnier note I spent about 30 minutes the other day translating the R Kelly lyrics from the song "Double Up" for my barber. I have never been more embarrassed for the English language....

Hope all is well.

Oh, and Go Obama!

xo

ZS

Big Thanks...

to everyone who has sent letters and care packages. They have been a great pick-me-up on those inevitable days of frustration. Variable items such as eye glasses, calendars, and children’s games were a nice treat to the community and they have already begun to be useful. Of course the personal goodies (beef jerky and Trader Joes chocolate pistachio toffee come to mind) were an appreciated and sacred indulgence.

Also, I know several of you (more than I expected) have asked about wanting to have fundraising parties or make personal donations to help get programs started in Chonguene till I can find sustainable funding sources. I am almost positive that there is a way for it to be tax deductible AND go to my direct projects. I will try and get more info when I am down in Maputo in mid-March.

And if it’s not too much trouble, I would like the following hard-to-get items sent to me in future packages:
Lay-Z-Boy Recliner
Weight Set
Omaha Beef Steaks
My Old Mattress
American Ingenuity
A Hendricks Gin Martini with sliced cucumber.

Much Love,

ZS

Whew...

I was riding into the city on a chapa the other day. It was beginning to reach overflow capacity, so I gave up my seat to an elderly woman so she wouldn't have to stand the whole way. She and I started making jokes with each other (her asking me to pay for her ride and I telling her that she must have been drinking too much Canhu). Before long we had the whole bus laughing with us and being entertained by our banter. After a few people got out, I had the chance to sit down in front of the woman while we continued our conversation. All of a sudden, the woman reaches her arm around my neck, pulls me in and kisses me on the cheek.

I didn't know how to react. Thank God I had on my sunglasses, because I just started to cry. It was the first real affection I've experienced since moving here. It was genuine, like a grandmother hugging her grandchild. Without sounding overly dramatic, it made me feel like a person again, and really brought a bit of humanity back into perspective. Mozambicans are so reserved when it comes to public affection that it caught me off guard. Of course I paid the 15 Mets for the woman's ride. It just seemed appropriate. What she gave me far exceeded what I paid.

"Well, it’s hot and there’s a lot to do..."

A quote overheard from the colleague of another volunteer when describing (in the best English she could muster) how things were going in Mozambique to her friend. We both thought this was an accurate, and quite comical, description of current life here.

This morning I got off the phone with Jeffrey, a buddy of mine and former PC volunteer stationed in the Ukraine, and am positively giddy. Three years ago, Jeff, in his 40s, decided to leave LA and join Peace Corps. A successful manager in the non-profit world, I was impressed with his ability to give it up for a couple years to take on this new life, one that apparently had interested him for years. When I met Jeff last year at Pride (a chance meeting that can only be described as luck or fate), I was impressed and drawn to his enthusiasm for travel and his willingness to try new experiences. We had one or two mutual acquaintances and have since build up the beginning of a good friendship. In August Jeffrey is coming to visit me and we will travel Swaziland and Mozambique for a couple weeks. I can’t wait to finally start to explore a bit of this continent with someone! However, before we even began to talk about our trip, his first words were advice about the blog. He suggested that I be more descriptive about my life here and what I was experiencing. So, I will try and elaborate more in the future about life in Chonguene.

Things lately have been interesting. Last week was a real kicker after NOTHING seemed to be going right. Problems with my bank, kinks at work, projects not materializing like I hoped and a general frustration at the world were only exacerbated by the fact that I was grumpy from not sleeping well lately. The past few weeks there have been a few break-ins in my neighbourhood, so I have been more alert than usual. At night, I keep hearing these sounds like someone in the house or at the windows. I would get up throughout the night to check, finding no one there and convincing myself that I am simply paranoid and to go back to sleep. Finally one evening after I had turned out my light, I heard noises I was positive were coming from inside the house. Slowly I grabbed my headlamp and crept into the main room to get a peek. After turning on my light, I saw my cat…no, not my cat….but a similar looking cat eating Sammy’s food. Realizing that my sleepless nights have been caused by this damn feline, I went berserk, screaming bloody murder and scaring the thing half to death. She lept up and tried to jump out the window but my curtains were in the way, thus thwarting her escape. As she swatted at the curtains, I swatted at her with my headlamp (disassembling it in the process). And after making a ridiculous scene at this poor cat that simply was hungry and wanted food, she made it out the window; both of us exhausted from the ordeal. Now, a dog in the area is stealing the food of my puppy, Chissy....ugh.

This week has been significantly better. I have tried to take a more care-free attitude to things in my life that are outside of my control (not easy giving my Type-A tendencies) and to try and go with the flow. To keep busy, I have been collecting information for a grant on starting up a hydroponics micro-farming system that my friend Pey (another RPCV) sent me. I have also been writing a proposal for a pork project with the local elder housing facility to provide fertilizer for their individual gardens and meat to their community. Tuesday, I met with the local school director, a nun/professor and about 15 students to start up a communications group at the school focusing on theatre and journalism. I put their library on the back burner until my next trip to Maputo when I can meet with officials at the Portuguese and Brazilian Embassies about donating books. Finally, I have begun writing the grant for my project with milking goats with Heifer International, to be in coordination with the area health post. How many of these projects will pan out and materialize, I have no idea. Past PCVs would say few, but I figure if I shoot for 100%, I will be happy with whatever I get done by mid-service next January.

It has been surprisingly wet this week. Despite it supposedly being the rainy season, this year has been drier than usual, resulting in a smaller crop output at the markets. So this recent dampening of the soil was a welcomed change. Since being in Moz I have come to love the sound of rain banging on the tin roof. Even the lightest sprinkle makes it nearly impossible to talk to another person, and yet it is remarkably conducive for pause and reflection. The book I am currently on, Reading Lolita in Tehran, was given to me by Pey who has family history in the Middle East, and is a fantastic memoir about experiencing literature in an oppressive society. Most every night after dinner I sit on my porch to watch dusk roll in; my book in hand and my new puppy on my lap. I am usually in bed between 8 and 9 at night since my mornings still start between 5 and 5:30, when I feed the pets, do a little yoga and begin to plan for my day. People at work say that I read and work too much (guilty!) and that I should paciar (verb for strolling without purpose) more. So, lately I have tried to use free time in the mornings to walk around to see more of the community, and have been consistently impressed with the natural beauty of Chonguene. Thanks to the soccer ball that Josh and Lyne gave me, I have also started going out to the field to play with some local kids. They are teaching me how totally uncoordinated I am, but I’m picking up a few things.

In addition to Caroline from training, I have been casually adopted by 2 other Mozambican moms. First is Dona Gina, a woman who lost her husband a few years ago and who owns one of the local logas (store) that doubles as a restaurant. I was introduced to her on my first day in town when, not having any way of cooking for myself, she prepared my meals for the first few days. A stoutly woman (what Mozambicans would call healthy), she and I immediately got along and bonded over our love of cooking. Her talent is an bittersweet one since most people in Chonguene don’t have the money to eat out, thus her skills mostly go unused and unappreciated. Now every time I bake a new dish such as banana bread or a crumble of some sort, I take some to her. She in turn does the same for me with any sweets she makes. Quite a symbiotic relationship we have developed. My second Moz Mom, Herminia, turned out to be my organization’s case worker from South African AIDS Trust, an organization that shepards 25 community organizations in Mozambique. Another healthy woman (who speaks English remarkably well), we met when she came to my organization for a monitoring and evaluation session. We ended up talking and after finding out I was a political science major in college, she was eager to tell me, in her half-joking manner, that her teenage son also wanted to be a political science major at university and if I could try and persuade him from making such a mistake! After laughing, I convinced her that such a discipline wasn’t the end of the world but that I would talk to him anyways. Since then we have traded text messages regularly, she has taken me to meet her mother in Xai Xai City and has invited me to visit her and her son in Maputo next time I am in town.

Finally to report, this time of year is when the fruits of the Marula tree begin to fall and are harvested to make Canhu, a simple 2-day fermentation of the fruit juice to kill off any bugs and make it suitable for consumption. What is so remarkable about this is that it is considered to be the traditional drink of Mozambique (or of the southern half at least) and is prohibited by law to be sold. People collect the fruit, ferment it and have parties for family and friends. Even the poorest of Mozambicans are able to take part in this celebration, in an act of equitable enjoyment, resistant to class, status or the size of one’s personal wealth. You have to drink about 5 glasses of the stuff before you begin to feel the alcoholic effects, but its impact on the community is realized immediately. I was trying to think of a comparable tradition that I have witnessed and the closest I have come is the Beaujolais Festival for the French. Wouldn’t it be nice if we as Americans could have something, just one time a year, where we break down the barriers of class and share a beer, a hotdog, or whatever, together with friends and strangers alike.

Maybe I can send some Marula seeds stateside and start a new tradition…

Cheers!
ZS

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Last night I explained the concept of astronomy to a young man in my village who has taken a liking to me. It was amazing to watch his eyes light up when I told him about the stars and how they were like our sun but much larger and much farther away. How the earth revolves around the sun (thought that was a basic concept, but I guess not) and how we are among billions of stars and planets in the universe, comparing Earth to sand on a beach. Quite frankly I was pretty pleased with myself given the limits on my vocabulary. I mean, I wasn’t explaining String Theory or anything, but still…

Today the monthly shipment of food aid came, in the form of cornmeal and lentils, and we distributed it to the local activistas. Also on hand were the sick and destitute that rely on this monthly event to sustain them for the coming weeks. There are about 70 of them waiting under the big tree that sits in front of our office, since it is far too hot not to sit in the shade. I look around at the faces; some joking with each other to pass the time, some coughing, many nursing babies. They line up to receive their allotments. After everything is done, two crippled old women who apparently were not on the list to receive aid get on their hands and knees to pick the forgotten lentils out of the dirt so that they will have a little extra food to eat tonight. No one seems to mind as I guess this is a regular occurrence. It is sad to see this kind of poverty. These women, some abandoned by their husbands after learning they were HIV positive, are struggling to live each day to buy food and medicine. We have poor people in America, but at least with us there is a safety net. The government can step in and prevent most people from getting to the point of sheer destitution. Here, if your family isn’t there to care for you, you are out of luck.

During training we were discussing the importance of acclimating to a new culture and what that meant. One of the volunteers piped up and talked about how she wanted to really get in and live like her community lives, face what they face and get the "real experience." This term, "real experience," sent a shock through me and I had to speak up. I mentioned that there is no way that we can truly understand what the members of our community are experiencing and it’s insulting to think that we can. At any moment, without explanation, we can call Peace Corps to say we want out, and within 24 hours, we’re on a plane for the states. We have round the clock medical care if needed, money for food, not to mention the background of a great education to give us the tools to think critically (some more than others) about challenges we might face. While I shouldn’t have gotten angry (they girl had good intentions) it startled me that anyone could think that it was possible to even come close to walking in another person’s shoes. Paul Farmer said it best, "They don’t want you to live like they do. They want you to put on a pair of slacks and a tie and actually better their lives."

Over the next few weeks I am talking to activistas, community members, and those I work with to try and find out what are problems that people are willing to come together on to fix given the right resources. The resources I can find, but it’s the passion that has to come from them.

New Puppy...

Last week, at 8 o'clock at night, my neighbor showed up unexpectedly with a 3 week old puppy in a cardboard box and gave it to me. Immediately upon exiting the box, it peed on me. I named him Pecker.

Two days later, upon a more careful expection, I realized that Pecker's pecker wasn't a pecker at all (I, of all people, am not the expert on such matters). So now her name is Chissy. Despite being too young to have been weaned from her mother, she is doing great and I am fattening her up with lots of fresh cow's milk from the Xai Xai market and some xima that I cook myself. When I got her, she was covered in fleas and they had chewed about 15 patches into her skin. Thankfully I had already bought a great flea shampoo in Maputo and as of today she is flea free and her skin is healing nicely.

I will have pictures soon but wanted to announce the new addition. She is absolutely precious and I can tell she is smart as a whip. I told the Mozambicans that I planned to train her to use the bathroom outside and do tricks. I might as well have said that I planned to teach an iron skillet how to do long division.

Yet another fun experience.

Pictures...

I think.

Hopefully if you don't get my e-mails, you can click on this link and it will allow you to sign up for Snapfish and see them...I think.

http://www2.snapfish.com/share/p=35181200656456171/l=347889552/g=35776459/otsc=SYE/otsi=SALB

Good luck!

ZS

Mozambicans LOVE Michael Bolton and Bryan Adams...

I only mention this to first set the tone of my current life. I mean, what person, DOESN'T want to be woken everyday at 5am to "When a Man Loves a Woman" and the song from Robin Hood???

Sorry for this being so long, but here we go...

Ola Amigos! Thank you so much for the Christmas cards, packages and well-wishes. From stockings to Gamecock goodies, my other volunteers are ever so slightly jealous. I'm OK with this, of course...just saying. After a month o acclimating to my new community, going through Christmas and new years and doing a little traveling up the coast, I finally have time to sit down and update everyone. I also have new pictures on Snapfish and will try to post the address for those who need it.

To start, Chonguene is a beautiful community. I am living in the house of my director's son while his son's family lives in a smaller house about 30 feet from me. At first I thought this would be awkward, with a stranger living in their new home. However they were so excited to have a volunteer that I was immediately welcomed as part of the family. The house is charming and has a veranda that faces West, so I enjoy the amazing sunsets each evening as I read my book or eat dinner. I have spent the last couple of weeks crafting various things to fill the rooms and make it a little more "homey". The walls are mostly bare, but I am on the search for things to hang and colorful items to brighten the rooms and windows (curtains are being made as we speak). I am cooking like crazy to keep my mind occupied (I even made a Dutch oven). I also inherited an adorable 1 year old cat named Samora. Most of you know I am NOT a cat person, but as soon as I met her we fell for each other. Well, either that or she is just responding to finally being fed regularly. Regardless, a puppy will follow shortly. The letters and packages are great especially since the are coming to the Xai Xai address and I can retrieve them separate from Peace Corps.

My organization, AREPACHO, is amazing. Created in 2001, they have worked to build themselves up to best serve the community. There are roughly 80 Activistas (individuals who help bring services to specific areas in Chonguene) and some staff. We distribute food aid (we also have a machamba/farm to help supplement the food), develop HIV educational programs, and work to create economic development through income generating projects. Chonguene is a poor community but rich in natural resources (as they say, Chonguene is rich, it's the people who are poor). My yard alone has 7 types of fruit trees. However, jobs are extremely scarce, with most people relying on subsistence farming as their primary, if not sole, source of income. When everyone in the organization came together on the first Friday, I was introduced to the staff and the Activistas started singing to me. It was so beautiful I just about came to tears. Afterwards I began asking questions to gauge what what areas I might be able to offer assistance. They were quick to respond. It looks like I will be teaching them English (a surprising tool since almost all the countries surrounding Moz speak English), teaching them how to use the computers (they have 3!...Microsoft programs are also in English), setting them up for the Internet to research grants, expanding their current programs while developing new ones, starting up a income generating project teaching women to sow, building (and I mean BUILDING) an interactive child centre, and possibly starting a dairy program ( I'm talking with Heifer Intl on this one). Not too bad, right? I figure in 2 years I should just about know how to squat properly to use the bathroom....the child centre should be a piece of cake. I can't joke too much though. One of my friends in Zambezia had her boss drive in from the city and suggest, on her 2nd day, that she start a day hospital. This is the kind of work that is expected, and I am so eager to see the kinds of projects that result from our class of volunteers at the end of our service.

The holidays were a little awkward as it was the first time away from family and friends. Thankfully my director invited me to join his extended family for Christmas to eat, drink and dance. He said that we would be having pork and I immediately thought, "Yum, Honey Baked ham!" And then of course I saw the enormous, hairy, black pig they had strung up in the backyard. I was OK with the idea of killing this animal since I had murdered more than my fair share of delicious chickens in Mafuine. However, I wasn't exactly sure how we were going to go about killing Ole Wilbur. At that moment someone brought out a mallet and went all "Lord of the Flies," bashing in Piggy's head. After hours of scraping, cutting and quartering, we had some of the best pork I have put in my mouth to this day. New years was significantly less bloody as I got together with volunteers in Xai Xai to celebrate with duck in banana leaves at the house/restaurant of an Ex-pat from Britain.

Because the rate of drunk driving skyrockets during the days around Christmas and New Years, my friend Katie and I waited till January 3rd to take a little vacation away. Traveling up the Coast on the EN1, we took a butt-numbing 9 hour Chapa ride to Vilankulo where we stayed at our friend Lily's house by the ocean, which thankfully had indoor plumbing and a shower. There we took advantage of the touristy market shops and bought things like...Gouda! They, taking advantage of Lily's fridge/freezer, we made...frappicinos! I swear, for a minute I almost forgot that I fazer xixi in a hole in the ground. The next day we hired some Mozambicans to take us on their sailboat to the archipelagos off the coast to do some amazing snorkeling. This only strengthened my desire to go scuba diving here. After leaving Lily, we went 5 hours south to Inhambane and Maxixe, two towns separated by a beautiful bay. Inhumane is an adorable town that has maintained it's charm while developing to meet the needs of the growing tourist population. Now I am back in Chonguene ready to begin and hopefully not disappoint an organization that is responsible for so many and expects so much. Two years is a long time but the general consensus from volunteers is that it goes fast.

The first thing that went on my wall in my house was a map of the United States that my friend Jeff, a former Ukraine PCV, sent me. When I get a little down, I look over the map and recognize various locations that have special significance. I see Rockland, Maine where my mother used to take us in the summers for the Lobster Festival and to see her family's cabin on the lake. I see Alpine Texas where Dad took us to see Grammy and to look for arrowheads and then to Marfa (also on the map) to see the mysterious Marfa Lights. I see highway 10 that bisects the country where Jimmy and I went cross-country after graduation to live for two fun-filled years in Los Angeles with Josh, Ash, Lyne and Cami (best decision I have ever made). It is also in LA that I met some truly amazing friends who gave me some great memories. For only being 24 I am unbelievably lucky to have such positive experiences and recollections. My hope is that in 2 years, I can put up a map of Mozambique in my apartment in the States and relive a newer set of stories, equally as poignant and just as influential on my life.

Looks like it's time to get to work.

Obrigado!

ZS