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.