A normal day in my life

Way back in 8th grade I interviewed one of my dad's aunts about life during WWII. Recently she just sent me a message asking about life in Mozambique for an article to be published in a newsletter. I figured I'd post it here too.

On a typical weekday I wake up between 5:00 and 6:00. In the summer it gets light at about 4:30, which makes sleeping even until 5:00 difficult. And in the winter it's still dark at 5:45, which makes waking up difficult, since I have no electricity. I almost always eat an egg sandwich for breakfast, and then head to work. Nacaroa Secondary School is about a mile from my house-a pleasant walk in the early morning and cold season, but dreadfully hot in the afternoon and hot season. On my way to work the children love to run out of their houses and yards to greet me. Even after being here a year the kids still get really excited when I pass by, even though it happens at least twice a day. The mothers call to their children, and the children call to their friends so that no one misses out on greeting me.

The school is new, which has pros and cons. The classrooms are in good conditions, there are enough desks for all the students, the blackboards aren't falling a part, and the courtyard is pretty. But before this secondary school, which was started in 2006, there wasn't a secondary in Nacaroa District. This means that many of the students come from families in which their parents have, at most, completed 7th grade, and therefore have jobs that don't require being able to read, write, or speak Portuguese. Therefore, many students skip school a lot and aren't motivated to learn because they plan on being farmers like their parents, and think that school is just to pass the time.

I teach English in 11th grade, which is the highest grade at the school this year. Next year will be the first year for 12th grade, and the first students will officially graduate from the least developed district of Nampula Province in Northern Mozambique. The students are very well-behaved compared to American students. Most classes have about 70-90 students. They are never overtly disrespectful, the only behavior issue is too much talking, but that happens all the time in classes of 20 in the US. Morning classes start at 7:00 and end at 12:05, and afternoon classes are from 12:30-5:35. Because of a shortage of classrooms and teachers, students study only in the morning, or only in the afternoon, depending on what grade they're in.

Between classes the teachers hang out in a small pavilion, which serves as the teachers' lounge. My colleagues often like to try to speak a little English with me, or get me to speak Macua, the native language of the region. I have learned to speak Portuguese fairly well, knowing Spanish before coming really helped! But when I have difficulties saying something in Portuguese my colleagues are much more patient with me than I imagine most Americans are with people who are learning English.

I teach only in the morning, so when I'm done for the day I go home and make lunch. The most common meals I prepare for lunch or dinner are rice with some sort of vegetable mixture, pasta, French fries with salad, or soup. One of my favorite rice toppings is okra with tomatoes and onions. But here my diet varies greatly depending on the season. In the hot season there isn't much produce in the market, just mangos, onions, and potatoes. When the hot season starts to pass, sweet corn, okra and tomatoes come. Then oranges, green peppers, chives, lettuce, cabbage, green beans, other leafy greens, bananas, and sweet potatoes come into season.

In the afternoons I plan my lessons, grade homework or tests, and have English club a few times a week. When I don't have work related things to do, I like to visit my colleagues and other friends, play cards, or read. Despite not having a TV, a mall, or any sort of American-style entertainment, I rarely find myself bored. I often wish that I had more time to read or keep my journal, but I often choose to spend time with people instead.

The town generator comes on from 6:00-10:00pm every night. The first seven months I lived here it was broken, so I lived with absolutely no electricity. I used to charge my phone once a week using a solar panel in the building I used for English club. My iPod and computer were never charged, and I had to do anything requiring good light before 5:00 at night. It's amazing how much difference just four hours a day can make! I feel almost like I'm in the US at night!

The market is about a 10-minute walk away, and without a refrigerator I end up going almost every day. I usually time it so I go to the market, get home, take a bath, and get dressed just as the generator turns on. Otherwise I'll just sit at home after about 5:30 waiting for the generator and not doing anything useful.

I've gotten pretty used to bathing and washing dishes without running water. I've hired someone to cart water from the pump to my house. The Mozambican women are amazingly strong and can carry large quantities of water on their heads, but compressing my vertebrae is one thing that I don’t plan to attempt while here. I have a large water basin in my bathroom, which is a separate structure from my house, and two large water basins in my house. Whenever the water gets low, I just ask my water-carter to cart more. To take a bath in the hot season I just go to my bathroom and pour cups of cold water from the basin over my body, lather, and rinse. When it’s really hot, that can be the most pleasant part of the day. In the cold season, I like to heat my bathwater and carry it to my bathroom in a smaller basin.

Once the generator comes on, I cook dinner, usually using charcoal. I have a gas stove that I use for quick things, but gas is expensive, and it’s hard to get the tank refilled, so I like to use charcoal when I have time. After dinner I usually wash the dishes, using two small basins of water, as if they were the two sides of a sink. Then I hang out with my boyfriend, play cards, listen to music, read, use my computer, or go to bed. Since I wake up early, 8 or 9 at night is usually my bedtime.

So-and-so's Mom

Mozambicans often address women as the mother of their child, instead of using the woman's name. For example, another teacher who I'm really good friends with, Lidia, has a daughter named Edilenia. At school people use her real name, but at her house her husband and friends call her "mae de Edilenia," (Edilenia's mom). When I first heard this it was at the house of a male colleague who was asking his wife to bring us some drinks. And then later in the conversation he told me that his wife got pregnant (not phrased as he got her pregnant) so he had to marry her, making it clear that he wasn't really planning on that. I thought it was awful that he just thuoght of her as his daughter's mother, and not as his wife, not as a real person with her own name. But lately I've been realising that the women all address each other like that. A few weeks ago we were cooking for a Teacher's Day party (an interesting experience of cultural gender issues, I might add a post about that) and the women who didn't know each other would ask what the other women's kid's names were, and then call each other Mae de Dao, Mae de Mara, Mae de Edi, and they really didn't know or ask what each other's real names were. I was exchanging numbers with one of them later, and when I started to put her name in my phone she was like, "No, put Mae de Mara."

English Theater Performance

The English Theater competition was yesterday. The plan was for my group and two other groups that were coming from the same direction to all travel together. However, on Friday afternoon (the day before the competition) I got a phone call saying the driver who was going to take us raised his price significantly and without cause, and they were wondering if I could find a vehicle here in Nacaroa for my group. Luckily Sambo’s neighbor transports various products for local stores, so he had a truck, didn’t have any plans for the next day, and was willing to give us a very fair price considering it was last minute. The only problem was that since he usually transports products, he didn’t have the credential to transport people, and the administration had already closed for the weekend, so we couldn’t get an authorization letter. There was only one solution: take advantage of the corruption that plagues so much of the developing world.

I wanted to leave by 6:00, so I had told the students to meet at the local elementary school at 5:30. I was worried that they would oversleep since the majority of them don’t have alarms or phones, or even watches to know if they’re on time or not. But they all managed to be there by 6:00, and we headed out. The transit police in Nacaroa knew us, so we just explained where we were going and why, and they let us pass without any problems. My first thought: that was nice of them! Second thought: that was illegal and wrong and corrupt-it’s kind of like how teachers here let students pass when they should fail, and the students think “that was nice,” and I think, “That’s terrible and corrupt!” But when being corrupt helps me, my first thought is how nice these people are. The next transit police didn’t know us, so I gave the driver 100 meticals to slip them, and we passed right on through. My first thought: that was so easy! My second thought: No wonder students who have money just buy their grades; it’s so much easier than studying. The third and final transit police we passed on the trip didn’t make us stop. My first thought: yes, it’s our lucky day! My second thought: wait a minute, these police are getting paid by the government and doing absolutely no work.

We arrived in good spirits; I’d bought juice and bread for our breakfast on the way. We were the third group to perform. They made a few mistakes, but nothing major, and overall they performed well, and had worked really hard for the past two months. We just had the disadvantage of being from the rural school. The schools from the cities had students who could watch TV in English all the time, had access to computers and the internet, and were the kids of well educated parents. The level of English of my students just didn’t compare. But I’m really proud of them, and I think they did a really great job with respect to their abilities and the opportunities they’ve had in life. Even though we didn’t win, the students seemed to be really glad they’d done it, and didn’t think it was a waste of time. They each got Portuguese/English dictionaries, T-shirts, and certificates for participating, and 100 meticals for “travel expenses,” which they didn’t have any of so they could buy whatever they wanted.

On the way home, it was late so we didn’t run into any transit police. Tomorrow is a national holiday (September and October are full of holidays!), which means various groups will perform dances/songs/etc in the town pavilion, where we’ve been rehearsing. When we got back yesterday, the students said they wanted to perform for the village on the holiday. Luckily I’d helped the person who’s in charge of organizing the program for performances with some English explanations a while ago, so he was more than happy to put us in last minute.