A trip to Swaziland
Mozambique recently drastically raised the price of a one-year visa. Peace Corps has been trying to negotiate some sort of exemption for Volunteers, but the negotiations are taking a long time. I conveniently happened to be back in Namaacha helping with the training of the newly arrived trainees when my visa expired. And Namaacha conveniently happens to be a border town with Swaziland. So Peace Corps took all of us Volunteers that were helping at training that week for a quick trip to Swaz to get 30-day visas so that we could travel back to site without running into problems. Some fun facts about my trip to Swaz:
-Date of my exit stamp from Moz: 05/11/1999
-Date of my entrance stamp on my return to Moz: 05/11/1010
-Freebies available at the border control building: maps and condoms (both male and female)
-Number of visas that my picture appears on: 2 (mine and someone else’s, they got confused)
Back to Namaacha
Namaacha is the name of the city in which training (PST) takes place. Every week during training Peace Corps invites some current volunteers to come help and meet the trainees. I remember when I first arrived in Namaacha last year it seemed so undeveloped and poor, compared to the US. Now, after living in Nacaroa for almost a year I was amazed by how developed and rich Namaacha seemed. They have paved roads, with sidewalks. Last year I noticed the potholes and unevenness, but this year I noticed the blacktop and curbs. Some people have cars. Last year I noticed how old and noisy they were, this year I notice how many there are. There are a lot of house made from cement and blocks. They have a library, which seemed so tiny last year, but now I’m just impressed that it exists. They have preschools. They have restaurants and cafes. I can’t imagine what I would have thought of Nacaroa if I hadn’t been eased in to Mozambique with Namaacha.
I had a lot of fun helping with training and hanging out with the other Volunteers who were helping the same week. This coming week the trainees will find out their site placements, so I’m pretty excited to find out who will be coming near me. The closest site to me will be getting two new Volunteers.
I also got to see my host family from last year again. I brought them some pictures that I’d taken last year and gotten printed for them. I had really good luck with the timing of my arrival: My oldest brother, Samito, had been working at a hotel in Namaacha last year, but earlier this year he started working for the border control a little ways away. He stays there and works for 2 weeks, and then has 1 week off, and luckily I came on his week off. The second brother, Zinho, works at a really rural school about 30km away. He usually stays there during the week, and comes to Namaacha on the weekends only, but this week there was a conference in Namaacha, so he was around all week. My youngest brother, Jeque, apparently got some bad friends and failed school last year, so they decided that he should go live with his older sister and study at the school where she teaches. Conveniently, I got there the week after school ended, so he had just returned to Namaacha. And my little nephew, Erlander, who is really adorable and loves to talk, left to go spend the holidays with his father the week after I left, so I got to see everyone! My Mama was really excited that I was back, she wanted me to stay and sleep there and eat every meal with them, and take my baths at their house, etc.
Work
The school year has finished, so now is the time for national exams for the 10th graders. All last week we had to proctor the exams, which was incredibly boring. I didn’t know how long 90 minutes could feel like until I had to stand in a hot room and do absolutely nothing for that amount of time. And next week will be spent correcting the exams. And then after that there are retests for the students who fail, and then correcting the retests.
In my “homeroom,” there were 78 students. Of these, 50 have passed. 9 dropped out/transferred during the course of the year, 8 I suspended for failing/missing class almost everyday, and 11 failed and can repeat 11th grade next year if they want. The ones that I suspended can’t repeat 11th grade next year, they national regulations are that they are suspended for 2 years, and after that they can repeat 11th grade if they want. Which sounds harsh, but seriously, I took roll 37 times this past trimester, and these students were absent more than 30 times, with similar percents in their other classes. The classes are already huge, and students get turned away once the classes fill up, so I don’t really feel too bad. They posted the results yesterday, so we’ll see how many show up at my house to complain.
Overall, I although I have really, thoroughly enjoyed my first year here, I honestly can’t say that I find the work very rewarding, and I don’t really feel like I’m making much of a difference. Many students hardly learned any English in previous years, they miss school all the time, and very few are motivated to learn. And I can’t blame them. Most of them know they’re going to be farmers or housewives, and no one will pay more to buy tomatoes from the farmer who knows some English, and washing clothes by hand isn’t any easier for someone who knows some English.
There’s one Volunteer near me who works at a mission trade school. Her school has machinery, a good library, classes of 30 students, and all sorts of resources. When I first found all this out about her school I thought Peace Corps should have chosen a less developed/ less privileged school that could have benefitted more from having a Volunteer. But now I think Peace Corps should invest its Volunteers in more schools like this. The students at that school have hopes of going to college, of having good jobs, of actually using the English that she teaches them in their futures. Those students are actually benefitting a lot from having a volunteer, whereas very few of my students are.
Random Tidbits
There’s this one song in Mauca that comes on a lot here. I obviously can’t understand what it’s saying, but I like the beat and the lyrics seem lively and relaxing. One time it came on when I was with some of my students. I told them I really liked it. “Do you understand it?” they asked. I told them I didn’t so they translated the chorus: “Don’t beat your wife while your kids are watching.”
I recently received a care package that my aunt sent me. One of the most exciting things in it was a rat trap. Since my house has luckily been rat free for a while, I told Sambo to take it and use it in his house, which is full of rats. The first night he killed a rat. The second night, the rat managed to take the food without setting off the trap. I figured he must not have set it properly, so the third night I had him show me how he set and baited it. It looked good to me. But somehow that rat managed to take the food, set off the trap, and not get caught! So the fourth night he tied the food to the trap, and managed to kill another rat.
I was showing some pictures I’d brought from the US to the students in my English Theater group a while ago. There was one student who always knew which one was me in a group of people, but the others could never tell which white person was me. There was one picture with me and a bunch of my mom’s relatives. “Which one am I?” I asked them. They debated it, and finally all agreed that my cousin Angela was me. For those of you who aren’t my relatives, my cousin Angela has very blond hair, and looks nothing like me.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Sunday, October 31, 2010
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.
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."
Sunday, October 3, 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Logic
The other day I was in the market and I wanted to buy tomatoes. There was a pile of 10 tomatoes that cost 10 meticals. I had 9 meticals in change, or a 50 metical bill. The vendor didn’t have change. The logical solution that appeared to me was for him to take away one of the ten tomatoes, and let me pay 9 meticals for 9 tomatoes. When I suggested this he laughed and was like, “What, if you can buy 10 tomatoes for 10 mets you think you can just buy 9 tomatoes for 9 mets?” Well I thought it seemed like a logical idea, but apparently not.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
The Alchemist
I’ve started reading “The Alchemist,” and I’m really enjoying it. People in Nacaroa think I’m crazy for leaving the US to come here, and don’t understand at all why I like it. No matter how much I try to explain that ever since I can remember I always wanted to live in other countries and learn other languages and experience other cultures they just think I’m crazy. The main character in The Alchemist is just like me. According to this book, everyone has a Personal Legend, which is what you’ve always wanted to do and are destined to do, and the universe always conspires to help the people that try achieve their Personal Legends.
When I first got here I was constantly thinking of interesting and exciting things to write about on my blog, but I didn’t have a way to write and post stuff. Now that I have my computer, electricity, and the internet, I’m used to living here so things don’t seem so interesting and exciting anymore, they’re just normal now. It’s been almost exactly a year since I left the US.
Daycare centers and babysitters don’t really exist here, at least not in the same way that they do in the US. Women who have babies bring them to school/work with them. They also have a relative or neighbor, usually a girl 7-10 years old, come with them to help take care of the baby. As a result, the school is full of female students who are constantly coming and going from the classroom to take care of their babies, young girls who miss years of school to care for other people’s children, and teachers who breastfeed while they’re teaching. One of these teachers is a good friend of mine, and whenever I have a free period I love playing with her baby, who will be 6 months on my birthday! Anyway, one day while my friend was teaching I asked the girl who cares for her baby to help me tie her on my back with a cloth the way African women carry their children. Man, the students and teachers really got a kick out of seeing that! They all asked why I didn’t already have a baby, told me that I should have one, and that when I go back to America I should teach everyone how to carry babies in clothes on their backs.
My English Theater group performed for the school today. I was really impressed with how well they did; no one forgot their lines, and scene changes that had not always gone smoothly at rehearsals were flawless. There’s a song about HIV that’s part of the performance, and afterwards others students at the school were singing the chorus. We rehearse in a pavilion in the village, so there’s always tons of kids watching, and the kids know almost the whole song and the motions, despite not being able to understand a word of it.
Before I left the US I was thinking that I would be a teacher when I got back. Now I think I’ll be a soap opera writer. I’m pretty sure I could write a good 3 seasons not just BASED on Nacaroa, but literally EXACTLY what goes on here. Now that I’ve gotten to know people better I’m learning all sorts of secrets about who’s dating who, who’s pregnant with who’s baby, who’s cheating on who with who, and so on.
And of course, I have to write about rats. One time my parents asked me if rat poison was available and affordable here. It is. “Why don’t Mozambicans put out rat poison so they don’t have a live with rats?” they asked. I told them Mozambicans didn’t really seem to mind rats. I was at Sambo’s the other day, and the student that lives with him, Gildo, was moving around some reed mats. A rat appeared. Gildo shrieked with excitement, grabbed a shoe, and starting chasing it. It ran outside, but Gildo kept chasing, and it ended up running back inside, and then back outside, and then escaped. But Gildo was smiling the entire time, and it looked like he was having as much fun as if he were playing football. I have fortunately not had any more rats in my house.
When I first got here I was constantly thinking of interesting and exciting things to write about on my blog, but I didn’t have a way to write and post stuff. Now that I have my computer, electricity, and the internet, I’m used to living here so things don’t seem so interesting and exciting anymore, they’re just normal now. It’s been almost exactly a year since I left the US.
Daycare centers and babysitters don’t really exist here, at least not in the same way that they do in the US. Women who have babies bring them to school/work with them. They also have a relative or neighbor, usually a girl 7-10 years old, come with them to help take care of the baby. As a result, the school is full of female students who are constantly coming and going from the classroom to take care of their babies, young girls who miss years of school to care for other people’s children, and teachers who breastfeed while they’re teaching. One of these teachers is a good friend of mine, and whenever I have a free period I love playing with her baby, who will be 6 months on my birthday! Anyway, one day while my friend was teaching I asked the girl who cares for her baby to help me tie her on my back with a cloth the way African women carry their children. Man, the students and teachers really got a kick out of seeing that! They all asked why I didn’t already have a baby, told me that I should have one, and that when I go back to America I should teach everyone how to carry babies in clothes on their backs.
My English Theater group performed for the school today. I was really impressed with how well they did; no one forgot their lines, and scene changes that had not always gone smoothly at rehearsals were flawless. There’s a song about HIV that’s part of the performance, and afterwards others students at the school were singing the chorus. We rehearse in a pavilion in the village, so there’s always tons of kids watching, and the kids know almost the whole song and the motions, despite not being able to understand a word of it.
Before I left the US I was thinking that I would be a teacher when I got back. Now I think I’ll be a soap opera writer. I’m pretty sure I could write a good 3 seasons not just BASED on Nacaroa, but literally EXACTLY what goes on here. Now that I’ve gotten to know people better I’m learning all sorts of secrets about who’s dating who, who’s pregnant with who’s baby, who’s cheating on who with who, and so on.
And of course, I have to write about rats. One time my parents asked me if rat poison was available and affordable here. It is. “Why don’t Mozambicans put out rat poison so they don’t have a live with rats?” they asked. I told them Mozambicans didn’t really seem to mind rats. I was at Sambo’s the other day, and the student that lives with him, Gildo, was moving around some reed mats. A rat appeared. Gildo shrieked with excitement, grabbed a shoe, and starting chasing it. It ran outside, but Gildo kept chasing, and it ended up running back inside, and then back outside, and then escaped. But Gildo was smiling the entire time, and it looked like he was having as much fun as if he were playing football. I have fortunately not had any more rats in my house.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
The Governor comes to visit
Last weekend the Governor of Nampula province came to visit Nacaroa. The district superintendent of education asked Sambo (since he teaches art, kind of) to decorate the two pavilions that reception for the governor would held in. Sambo rounded up me and a few students to help him. What sort of decorations are appropriate for the Governor? Decorations similar to an end-of-year picnic for a 3rd grade class. The supplies: two boxes of brightly colored magazines (Box 1: magazines for parents about how to talk to your child about sex. Box 2: “The future begins today,” magazines for 5th and 6th graders about how to be safe, why you should study, how to resolve problems without violence, etc. Both boxes should have been delivered to an elementary school in the district, but apparently never made it.) and two staplers. BYOS. (Bring Your Own Scissors) Well we brought our own scissors, and we started cutting up those magazines, and stapling together paper rings to make chains to hang from the ceiling and wrap around the posts of the pavilions. I’m not saying it wasn’t pretty, but if I didn’t know the occasion I would have guessed a 10-year-old's birthday party.
Note that “ladder” was not included in the supplies list, so in order to hang the chains from the ceiling we got a table to stand on, which worked fine for hanging things from the edges of the pavilions. But the roofs were very slanted, so then we got a chair to put on the table to hang things closer to the center. But the chair on the table wasn’t enough to reach the roof in the center of the pavilions. So then we got an American (me) to sit on the chair on the table, and students to stand on the table, and another student to stand on the top of the back of the chair on the table, supported by the students standing on the table, to hang the garlands from the center of the pavilions. In my opinion, way too risky, but as the students explained to me, “Mozambicans are very brave.”
We were also lucky enough to have some help cutting and stapling from some very excited neighborhood kids. It wasn’t every day they got to use scissors! And staplers, they’d seen at school, but rarely had the opportunity to be allowed to use! And, to top it all off, the American was present! Now in Mozambican culture, it’s very normal and appropriate for any adult to ask any kid (who they may or may not know) to run any errand or do any favor at any time. (ex: you open your door and tell the first kid you see to go to the market and buy you bread) And man, these kids decorating the pavilion got so excited whenever I would ask them to do something. (ex: Me-“Go give this stapler to so-and-so.” Kid-“OK!!!!!” and he or she would run as fast as they could to the person, give them the stapler, run back to me as fast as they could, tell me that they had successfully completed the task, and follow me around and wait excitedly for the next order.) And at the end, we gave them each a magazine, which they were inexplicably super excited and proud to receive, despite the fact that very few of them could read.
I also gave leftover magazines to the students in my English Theater group. Despite being 11th graders instead of the 5th and 6th grade target audience, they were also inexplicably excited to have magazines that explained menstruation and wet dreams, what to do in case of emergencies, etc. And now they bring these magazines with them to all of the rehearsals, and read them while they wait for the other students to arrive. Which demonstrates that in a country where very few people have personal reading materials, people are super excited about anything they can get, weather or not the topics are particularly relevant or interesting.
Note that “ladder” was not included in the supplies list, so in order to hang the chains from the ceiling we got a table to stand on, which worked fine for hanging things from the edges of the pavilions. But the roofs were very slanted, so then we got a chair to put on the table to hang things closer to the center. But the chair on the table wasn’t enough to reach the roof in the center of the pavilions. So then we got an American (me) to sit on the chair on the table, and students to stand on the table, and another student to stand on the top of the back of the chair on the table, supported by the students standing on the table, to hang the garlands from the center of the pavilions. In my opinion, way too risky, but as the students explained to me, “Mozambicans are very brave.”
We were also lucky enough to have some help cutting and stapling from some very excited neighborhood kids. It wasn’t every day they got to use scissors! And staplers, they’d seen at school, but rarely had the opportunity to be allowed to use! And, to top it all off, the American was present! Now in Mozambican culture, it’s very normal and appropriate for any adult to ask any kid (who they may or may not know) to run any errand or do any favor at any time. (ex: you open your door and tell the first kid you see to go to the market and buy you bread) And man, these kids decorating the pavilion got so excited whenever I would ask them to do something. (ex: Me-“Go give this stapler to so-and-so.” Kid-“OK!!!!!” and he or she would run as fast as they could to the person, give them the stapler, run back to me as fast as they could, tell me that they had successfully completed the task, and follow me around and wait excitedly for the next order.) And at the end, we gave them each a magazine, which they were inexplicably super excited and proud to receive, despite the fact that very few of them could read.
I also gave leftover magazines to the students in my English Theater group. Despite being 11th graders instead of the 5th and 6th grade target audience, they were also inexplicably excited to have magazines that explained menstruation and wet dreams, what to do in case of emergencies, etc. And now they bring these magazines with them to all of the rehearsals, and read them while they wait for the other students to arrive. Which demonstrates that in a country where very few people have personal reading materials, people are super excited about anything they can get, weather or not the topics are particularly relevant or interesting.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Nacaroa (almost) becomes a city
Some exciting changes have happened since I last posted. First of all, I’m writing and posting this from the comfort of my house. How is that possible??
Well, first, the town generator that worked for the first three weeks I was here started working again at the end of June, and I finally got my house hooked up to it at the beginning of August. Why did it take so long? Various reasons, the most amusing of which is that the electricians went to jail for stealing gasoline. So I’ve been hooked up to the generator for a few weeks now, and life has great! I have electricity from 6-10 at night, so I can easily plan lessons, read, play games, etc after dark, and I can also charge my phone, computer, and iPod at will.
So that’s how I’m writing this from the comfort of my house, but how am I posting this? Last weekend I bought an internet flash drive that I can use to get internet via the cell phone antennae. Now the cell phone reception comes and goes, but when there’s good reception I can check my mail, post photos (which I plan to do within a few days) and whatnot.
I also would like to comment, with regards to “The story of the Rat and the Foreigner,” that I have had only 4 rats in my house during the 8+ months I’ve lived here. I don’t want my sister to be afraid and decide not to visit me next year. The story itself is, unfortunately for me, 100% true; it really happened, but it only happened once, and it’s not an experience that my dear Emily is likely to have when (not if) she comes. If my parents were to come the rat would be the least of their worries; for my dad (the Wise Father) because he would be worried about so many other things, and for my mom because she would be practical after reading this and bring rat traps. (Rat traps, which I was silly enough to decline in a care package after several ratless months.)
Other exciting news—I’ve started dating another teacher who works at my school. His name is Sambo (pronounced Sahm-bu), and he teaches something called design, which seems kind of like drafting/geometry/architecture, kind of like scientific, measured art. He is also one of the stars of Nacaroa’s soccer team. Like my guard, he doesn’t exactly understand my fear of rats; his house was full of them, until a few weeks ago when I convinced his to get rat poison, and he killed 10 rats in 2 days. He does, however, understand about 50% of my sarcasm, which is way more than anyone else here. Sarcasm just isn’t used here, which is very sad for me, and my futile attempts have often led people to think that I misunderstood various conversations.
Well, first, the town generator that worked for the first three weeks I was here started working again at the end of June, and I finally got my house hooked up to it at the beginning of August. Why did it take so long? Various reasons, the most amusing of which is that the electricians went to jail for stealing gasoline. So I’ve been hooked up to the generator for a few weeks now, and life has great! I have electricity from 6-10 at night, so I can easily plan lessons, read, play games, etc after dark, and I can also charge my phone, computer, and iPod at will.
So that’s how I’m writing this from the comfort of my house, but how am I posting this? Last weekend I bought an internet flash drive that I can use to get internet via the cell phone antennae. Now the cell phone reception comes and goes, but when there’s good reception I can check my mail, post photos (which I plan to do within a few days) and whatnot.
I also would like to comment, with regards to “The story of the Rat and the Foreigner,” that I have had only 4 rats in my house during the 8+ months I’ve lived here. I don’t want my sister to be afraid and decide not to visit me next year. The story itself is, unfortunately for me, 100% true; it really happened, but it only happened once, and it’s not an experience that my dear Emily is likely to have when (not if) she comes. If my parents were to come the rat would be the least of their worries; for my dad (the Wise Father) because he would be worried about so many other things, and for my mom because she would be practical after reading this and bring rat traps. (Rat traps, which I was silly enough to decline in a care package after several ratless months.)
Other exciting news—I’ve started dating another teacher who works at my school. His name is Sambo (pronounced Sahm-bu), and he teaches something called design, which seems kind of like drafting/geometry/architecture, kind of like scientific, measured art. He is also one of the stars of Nacaroa’s soccer team. Like my guard, he doesn’t exactly understand my fear of rats; his house was full of them, until a few weeks ago when I convinced his to get rat poison, and he killed 10 rats in 2 days. He does, however, understand about 50% of my sarcasm, which is way more than anyone else here. Sarcasm just isn’t used here, which is very sad for me, and my futile attempts have often led people to think that I misunderstood various conversations.
The story of the Rat and the Foreigner
The story of the Rat and the Foreigner
(Author's note: for best results, picture the events of this story while reading.)
Several months ago a Foreigner came from the Developed World to live in the Developing World. The Foreigner quickly learned to love most things about her new life, but one thing she could not love was Rats. The Local People were confused by the Foreigner’s fear and dislike of Rats; they had long since learned to live in harmony with these small, harmless creatures. Almost all of the Locals had Rats in their houses on a somewhat regular basis, and some enjoying eating them roasted on sticks like shish-ka-bobs.
Sometime, not too long ago, one particular Rat managed to enter into the house of the Foreigner. The Foreigner awoke early one morning, when it was still dark outside, because of unusual noises coming from the shelf in her room. She switched on her flashlight in time to see the shadow of a Rat run out of her room, into the spare bedroom. She quickly shut the door of said bedroom, and summoned her Guard.
Now the Guard was a very nice person and a reliable and trustworthy guard; however, he was a Local. He did not understand the Foreigner’s strange and inexplicable fear of these small, harmless creatures, and thus was often less than persistent in finding and killing them in the Foreigner’s house. His most common response, after minimal searching, was often, “Já fugiu,” meaning, “He got away.” On this particular day, the Guard’s response was no different. The Foreigner tried to convince the Guard to continue searching, but it was of no use; she had no choice but to move on with her day and wait until the Rat appeared again.
That evening when the Foreigner was cooking dinner, the Rat appeared again. She summoned her Guard. The Rat was in the main room when the Guard entered, but with the commotion of movement and shouting he fled to the kitchen. Now what would usually happen in this situation is that the Guard would enter the kitchen with a stick, the Foreigner would stay outside of the kitchen holding the door shut, and the Guard would kill the rat. But on this particular day, the Foreigner inexplicably found herself inside the kitchen with the Rat and the Guard. Even more inexplicably, the foreigner had subconsciously selected a flimsy, orange, plastic dustpan as her weapon of choice.
All trapped in the kitchen, it’s hard to say if the Rat or the Foreigner was more scared. The Rat ran around frantically trying to escape, while the Foreigner performed a series of awkward jumps, trying to avoid allowing the rat to get too close to her feet. These jumps were accompanied by yelps and shrieks of fear, along with swats and flicks of the dustpan. The Guard tried to tell the Foreigner to calm down, but it was of no use. The Foreigner eventually ended up jumping into the door, which opened ever so slightly, allowing the Rat to escape back to the main room. The Foreigner and Guard followed and searched briefly, but the Guard soon announced, “Já fugiu.”
The Foreigner did not sleep well that night, and to her disappointment the Rat did not appear the following evening, leaving her with another night of ratmares. Finally, on the third night, the Foreigner remembered the words of her Wise Father, “Could he be hiding under the stove?” a question he has posed several months prior with the entrance of the First Rat. The foreigner grabbed her flashlight, went to the kitchen, and hesitantly looked under the stove. The Rat was there! She quickly summoned her Guard, making sure to stay outside the kitchen this time, and held the door tightly shut as he entered with a stick. This time the Rat did not get away. The Guard killed it, picked it up by the tail, and removed it from the Foreigner’s house. The Foreigner lived happily ever after, at least until the entrance of the Next Rat.
(Author's note: for best results, picture the events of this story while reading.)
Several months ago a Foreigner came from the Developed World to live in the Developing World. The Foreigner quickly learned to love most things about her new life, but one thing she could not love was Rats. The Local People were confused by the Foreigner’s fear and dislike of Rats; they had long since learned to live in harmony with these small, harmless creatures. Almost all of the Locals had Rats in their houses on a somewhat regular basis, and some enjoying eating them roasted on sticks like shish-ka-bobs.
Sometime, not too long ago, one particular Rat managed to enter into the house of the Foreigner. The Foreigner awoke early one morning, when it was still dark outside, because of unusual noises coming from the shelf in her room. She switched on her flashlight in time to see the shadow of a Rat run out of her room, into the spare bedroom. She quickly shut the door of said bedroom, and summoned her Guard.
Now the Guard was a very nice person and a reliable and trustworthy guard; however, he was a Local. He did not understand the Foreigner’s strange and inexplicable fear of these small, harmless creatures, and thus was often less than persistent in finding and killing them in the Foreigner’s house. His most common response, after minimal searching, was often, “Já fugiu,” meaning, “He got away.” On this particular day, the Guard’s response was no different. The Foreigner tried to convince the Guard to continue searching, but it was of no use; she had no choice but to move on with her day and wait until the Rat appeared again.
That evening when the Foreigner was cooking dinner, the Rat appeared again. She summoned her Guard. The Rat was in the main room when the Guard entered, but with the commotion of movement and shouting he fled to the kitchen. Now what would usually happen in this situation is that the Guard would enter the kitchen with a stick, the Foreigner would stay outside of the kitchen holding the door shut, and the Guard would kill the rat. But on this particular day, the Foreigner inexplicably found herself inside the kitchen with the Rat and the Guard. Even more inexplicably, the foreigner had subconsciously selected a flimsy, orange, plastic dustpan as her weapon of choice.
All trapped in the kitchen, it’s hard to say if the Rat or the Foreigner was more scared. The Rat ran around frantically trying to escape, while the Foreigner performed a series of awkward jumps, trying to avoid allowing the rat to get too close to her feet. These jumps were accompanied by yelps and shrieks of fear, along with swats and flicks of the dustpan. The Guard tried to tell the Foreigner to calm down, but it was of no use. The Foreigner eventually ended up jumping into the door, which opened ever so slightly, allowing the Rat to escape back to the main room. The Foreigner and Guard followed and searched briefly, but the Guard soon announced, “Já fugiu.”
The Foreigner did not sleep well that night, and to her disappointment the Rat did not appear the following evening, leaving her with another night of ratmares. Finally, on the third night, the Foreigner remembered the words of her Wise Father, “Could he be hiding under the stove?” a question he has posed several months prior with the entrance of the First Rat. The foreigner grabbed her flashlight, went to the kitchen, and hesitantly looked under the stove. The Rat was there! She quickly summoned her Guard, making sure to stay outside the kitchen this time, and held the door tightly shut as he entered with a stick. This time the Rat did not get away. The Guard killed it, picked it up by the tail, and removed it from the Foreigner’s house. The Foreigner lived happily ever after, at least until the entrance of the Next Rat.
Friday, June 11, 2010
2 in 2 days?!?!
Hey again! So what was I doing in Nampula on a Thursday to have made that post yesterday? I have either a lot of bug bites, or an allergic reaction, so I came to see the doctor. It looks almost like I have chicken pox, but not quite that bad.
Not much is new at site, there are a few projects I want to get started, but I’m having some difficulties due to lack of development in my district. I have been wanting to start English classes for adults, but there isn’t anywhere to do that at night because no place has electricity. And it seems kind of pointless to do it during the day because a lot of the people who are interested will be working. I also want to run a Future Business Leaders of Mozambique course, but again there’s no place to do that. FBLM is an 8-week course in which each week has a specific business related topic, such as ethics, managing a budget, demographics, etc. Groups of interested future business leaders participate, and create a business idea during these 8 weeks. At the end, they all do presentations, and the winning group is awarded money to actually implement their business idea.
I made goat burritos for some colleagues a few weeks ago. It was the first time I personally cooked goat meat. When I went to the butcher in the morning, the goat was still hanging from the tree where they killed it, and they were cutting the hide off. I went to buy a few things at the market, and then came back to buy the meat. The legs and head were sitting right there next to the meat that was for sale. It a very different experience from buying meat it the US. Also, I’m looking for a better term than “goat meat,” because that sounds very unappetizing. Beef and pork sound so much better than cow meat and pig meat, so if anyone knows the euphemism for goat meat, please let me know.
There is another rat in my house. I heard a noise when I was going to bed Wednesday night, so I got my flashlight and investigated. I found a bug. I didn’t think the bug could have made the noise, but I didn’t see anything else so I went to sleep. Early Thursday morning I was awakened by a noise coming from my bookshelf. I got my flashlight and went to investigate again. A shadow ran from the bookshelf to under my bed. Was it a rat? I looked around the rest of my room, but didn’t see anything. I went into the hall just in time to see a rat--definitely a rat--run from the other bedroom to the kitchen. I went to the kitchen doorway, and grabbed my rat killing stick on the way. But then the rat ran towards me, and got very close to my feet. I screamed. The rat ran into the other bedroom. I called my guard, but he was out fetching water for me, so I closed the door, crammed sandals in the opening between the flood and the door, and waited for my guard to come back. When he came back I sent him in to kill the rat, but the rat had disappeared. So now this rat is alone in my house making itself at home. I dreamt about it last night even though I’m about 100 miles away in a nice hotel.
A lot of my colleagues have very young babies, so I’ve been playing with them a lot lately. They’re so cute!!! And if I start playing with them when they’re really young they learn not to be afraid of me.
Well, that’s all for now.
Not much is new at site, there are a few projects I want to get started, but I’m having some difficulties due to lack of development in my district. I have been wanting to start English classes for adults, but there isn’t anywhere to do that at night because no place has electricity. And it seems kind of pointless to do it during the day because a lot of the people who are interested will be working. I also want to run a Future Business Leaders of Mozambique course, but again there’s no place to do that. FBLM is an 8-week course in which each week has a specific business related topic, such as ethics, managing a budget, demographics, etc. Groups of interested future business leaders participate, and create a business idea during these 8 weeks. At the end, they all do presentations, and the winning group is awarded money to actually implement their business idea.
I made goat burritos for some colleagues a few weeks ago. It was the first time I personally cooked goat meat. When I went to the butcher in the morning, the goat was still hanging from the tree where they killed it, and they were cutting the hide off. I went to buy a few things at the market, and then came back to buy the meat. The legs and head were sitting right there next to the meat that was for sale. It a very different experience from buying meat it the US. Also, I’m looking for a better term than “goat meat,” because that sounds very unappetizing. Beef and pork sound so much better than cow meat and pig meat, so if anyone knows the euphemism for goat meat, please let me know.
There is another rat in my house. I heard a noise when I was going to bed Wednesday night, so I got my flashlight and investigated. I found a bug. I didn’t think the bug could have made the noise, but I didn’t see anything else so I went to sleep. Early Thursday morning I was awakened by a noise coming from my bookshelf. I got my flashlight and went to investigate again. A shadow ran from the bookshelf to under my bed. Was it a rat? I looked around the rest of my room, but didn’t see anything. I went into the hall just in time to see a rat--definitely a rat--run from the other bedroom to the kitchen. I went to the kitchen doorway, and grabbed my rat killing stick on the way. But then the rat ran towards me, and got very close to my feet. I screamed. The rat ran into the other bedroom. I called my guard, but he was out fetching water for me, so I closed the door, crammed sandals in the opening between the flood and the door, and waited for my guard to come back. When he came back I sent him in to kill the rat, but the rat had disappeared. So now this rat is alone in my house making itself at home. I dreamt about it last night even though I’m about 100 miles away in a nice hotel.
A lot of my colleagues have very young babies, so I’ve been playing with them a lot lately. They’re so cute!!! And if I start playing with them when they’re really young they learn not to be afraid of me.
Well, that’s all for now.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Back in the city!
Hey everyone! I’m back in Nampula doing some shopping and going to the bank. I’ve had an exciting past month and a half since I last posted. I went to visit Ilha de Mozambique twice, just for the day both times. It’s really pretty, and I got to go swimming! I also went to another city, Namialo, to watch our soccer team play. (We tied 0-0.) There is another game tomorrow, so hopefully we’ll win!
Big news: Winter is here! It’s been getting cooler and cooler during the past month, and this week I’ve been chilly walking to school in the morning with long pants and a sweater. It still gets pretty hot in the afternoon, but it gets in the lower 60s at night.
I’ve got my English club started! It’s been going really well, the teacher I’m working with is really enthusiastic about it, and the students really like it too. The first week we did introductions, the second week we talked about malaria, the third week was Mozambican culture, and the past two weeks we’ve done story telling. Next week the topic will be HIV/Aids, and then after that we’ll start rehearsing for an English Theater production. We’ll be doing a 10-15 minute play related to HIV/AIDS to perform in a competition with theater groups that other volunteers have.
The second trimester at school is going really well. I’m more organized, and I’ve been planning better. The scores on the first test were really good for the students who usually come to class, but absenteeism is a big problem, so there were still a lot of students who failed. We’ve also been assigned by our director to do observations of other teachers, so it’s been interesting to see some other lessons. For the most part, the lessons seem pretty good. Some other teachers whose lessons I wasn’t assigned to watch invited me to come anyway, so in the next few weeks I’ll be seeing a lot of disciplines. I’m interested to see what the students are learning in other subjects.
After hearing some other volunteers stories about their colleagues and schools, I think I got pretty lucky when Peace Corps placed us. At the end of the 1st trimester we had to do the grade sheets for the students. Not on teacher asked me to change any of the grades, and my director didn’t ask me to raise the average or anything. Stories from other volunteers include teachers going around with lists of names making sure that these students passed, sometimes asking teachers to change the grades, and sometimes just taking the grade sheets and changing the grades themselves. I really like my colleagues I have a lot of fun hanging out with them during the breaks. At first I really didn’t like that the school is a 15 minute walk from the village, but it’s actually really nice walking home with other teachers and talking to them.
Well that’s all for now! I’m don’t have any plans to travel in the near future, so I don’t know when I’ll be posting again.
Big news: Winter is here! It’s been getting cooler and cooler during the past month, and this week I’ve been chilly walking to school in the morning with long pants and a sweater. It still gets pretty hot in the afternoon, but it gets in the lower 60s at night.
I’ve got my English club started! It’s been going really well, the teacher I’m working with is really enthusiastic about it, and the students really like it too. The first week we did introductions, the second week we talked about malaria, the third week was Mozambican culture, and the past two weeks we’ve done story telling. Next week the topic will be HIV/Aids, and then after that we’ll start rehearsing for an English Theater production. We’ll be doing a 10-15 minute play related to HIV/AIDS to perform in a competition with theater groups that other volunteers have.
The second trimester at school is going really well. I’m more organized, and I’ve been planning better. The scores on the first test were really good for the students who usually come to class, but absenteeism is a big problem, so there were still a lot of students who failed. We’ve also been assigned by our director to do observations of other teachers, so it’s been interesting to see some other lessons. For the most part, the lessons seem pretty good. Some other teachers whose lessons I wasn’t assigned to watch invited me to come anyway, so in the next few weeks I’ll be seeing a lot of disciplines. I’m interested to see what the students are learning in other subjects.
After hearing some other volunteers stories about their colleagues and schools, I think I got pretty lucky when Peace Corps placed us. At the end of the 1st trimester we had to do the grade sheets for the students. Not on teacher asked me to change any of the grades, and my director didn’t ask me to raise the average or anything. Stories from other volunteers include teachers going around with lists of names making sure that these students passed, sometimes asking teachers to change the grades, and sometimes just taking the grade sheets and changing the grades themselves. I really like my colleagues I have a lot of fun hanging out with them during the breaks. At first I really didn’t like that the school is a 15 minute walk from the village, but it’s actually really nice walking home with other teachers and talking to them.
Well that’s all for now! I’m don’t have any plans to travel in the near future, so I don’t know when I’ll be posting again.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
English Club
[Posted by Jess's parents]
Several new activities are underway, or at least under consideration:
I have started an English Club, that will meet weekly, for students who want a chance to practice their English language skills. Thirty students participated in the first session, and some of them asked if we could meet more than once a week - but for now, it will be every Thursday only. Each week, I review some vocabulary related to a specific scenario, and the students take turns in small groups, practicing the dialog for the various roles in the scenario. The first week's scenario was going to the doctor; next week's will focus on Mozambican culture. I would like to start a similar club for adults in the village, but with no electricity, there is not enough daylight to hold a class in the evening.
Some of my students recently sent letters to a group of elementary school students in North Carolina. We have not received any feedback yet, but I know that the teacher and class are looking forward to reading letters from Mozambique.
For the future, I would like to start an English Theater club that would participate in competitions with similar clubs from other Peace Corps locations in Mozambique.
I will try to post more next time I have internet access. For now, this brief (and somewhat belated) post by my father is the best we can do.
Several new activities are underway, or at least under consideration:
I have started an English Club, that will meet weekly, for students who want a chance to practice their English language skills. Thirty students participated in the first session, and some of them asked if we could meet more than once a week - but for now, it will be every Thursday only. Each week, I review some vocabulary related to a specific scenario, and the students take turns in small groups, practicing the dialog for the various roles in the scenario. The first week's scenario was going to the doctor; next week's will focus on Mozambican culture. I would like to start a similar club for adults in the village, but with no electricity, there is not enough daylight to hold a class in the evening.
Some of my students recently sent letters to a group of elementary school students in North Carolina. We have not received any feedback yet, but I know that the teacher and class are looking forward to reading letters from Mozambique.
For the future, I would like to start an English Theater club that would participate in competitions with similar clubs from other Peace Corps locations in Mozambique.
I will try to post more next time I have internet access. For now, this brief (and somewhat belated) post by my father is the best we can do.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
A more recent account of my life
Hey, I just wrote this post this past weekend. I'm also not sure why one of the ones in March posted in Portuguese. I wrote it in English, so I'm pretty confused.
Hello again! I’m back in Nampula for another conference. This one is for something called JOMA, which means Jovens em mudanca e accao, which means Youth for Change and Action. A lot of volunteers have JOMA groups, which use journalism, theater, or other arts to promote change and action in relation to AIDS, gender issues, etc. I don’t have a group, but I volunteered to come help out with check in and random things that come up. Next year I think I’ll try to get a group going. I’ve actually been working to get my English club going (I think I’ve written that before), but it still hasn’t happened, but I don’t think it’s my fault. I want to use the community center for the English club, so I had to write a request. Then I had to wait for the school secretary to type it, but the times I wanted were written incorrectly, so I have to wait for them to type it again. Then my director was gone, so I had to wait for him to come back and sign it, then the administrator for the district was in South Africa, so I had to wait for her to come back and approve it. That’s how things work here, there everyone has a specific job, and isn’t willing/qualified/allowed to do what someone else should be doing. (Another example: I went to the post office in Nampula one time to mail a letter. The person who sells stamps wasn’t there, and no one else would sell me the stamp, so I had to wait a few weeks until I came back to mail the letter. One more: my friends went to eat at a restaurant and ordered sandwiches. The guy who makes sandwiches was on vacation, and apparently the people who make pizza, salads, and everything else ) But I think my request for English Club is finally ready, but now it’s the break between the 1st and 2nd trimester, so everyone has left Nacaroa, including me. But I think it will really be ready to start the first week of the 2nd trimester. And I’m pretty excited about it, the students keep asking when it will start. Also, as related projects I want to do an English theater group, and start a penpal exchange with a teacher I’ve been corresponding with in the US. She teaches ESL, so we want our students to exchange letters in English, which I think will be exciting for both groups.
I have started making no bake cookies for various people at site, and they’ve been a big hit! People would often teach me how to make food/give me food they’d made, and I didn’t know what to do back because most “American” foods require ingredients I can’t get/store at site, or an oven. I’m also going to buy stuff to make s’mores while I’m here so I can make those for people. One dessert I’ve learned how to make is doce de abobera, or pumpkin sweetness. You peel and de-seed a pumpkin, and boil it in a little water until it all turns to mush. Then you add coconut milk and sugar, and eat it.
April 7th was Mozambican Woman’s Day. There was a ceremony in the morning with dancing, singing, drum circles, and other cultural activities. Everyone was really excited that I wore some traditional Mozambican clothes, a long cloth wrapped around my waist for a skirt, and a head scarf (like bandana style, not Muslim style). In the afternoon, I had a party at my house. They brought a generator over and we had music and everything. It was a lot of fun!
Hello again! I’m back in Nampula for another conference. This one is for something called JOMA, which means Jovens em mudanca e accao, which means Youth for Change and Action. A lot of volunteers have JOMA groups, which use journalism, theater, or other arts to promote change and action in relation to AIDS, gender issues, etc. I don’t have a group, but I volunteered to come help out with check in and random things that come up. Next year I think I’ll try to get a group going. I’ve actually been working to get my English club going (I think I’ve written that before), but it still hasn’t happened, but I don’t think it’s my fault. I want to use the community center for the English club, so I had to write a request. Then I had to wait for the school secretary to type it, but the times I wanted were written incorrectly, so I have to wait for them to type it again. Then my director was gone, so I had to wait for him to come back and sign it, then the administrator for the district was in South Africa, so I had to wait for her to come back and approve it. That’s how things work here, there everyone has a specific job, and isn’t willing/qualified/allowed to do what someone else should be doing. (Another example: I went to the post office in Nampula one time to mail a letter. The person who sells stamps wasn’t there, and no one else would sell me the stamp, so I had to wait a few weeks until I came back to mail the letter. One more: my friends went to eat at a restaurant and ordered sandwiches. The guy who makes sandwiches was on vacation, and apparently the people who make pizza, salads, and everything else ) But I think my request for English Club is finally ready, but now it’s the break between the 1st and 2nd trimester, so everyone has left Nacaroa, including me. But I think it will really be ready to start the first week of the 2nd trimester. And I’m pretty excited about it, the students keep asking when it will start. Also, as related projects I want to do an English theater group, and start a penpal exchange with a teacher I’ve been corresponding with in the US. She teaches ESL, so we want our students to exchange letters in English, which I think will be exciting for both groups.
I have started making no bake cookies for various people at site, and they’ve been a big hit! People would often teach me how to make food/give me food they’d made, and I didn’t know what to do back because most “American” foods require ingredients I can’t get/store at site, or an oven. I’m also going to buy stuff to make s’mores while I’m here so I can make those for people. One dessert I’ve learned how to make is doce de abobera, or pumpkin sweetness. You peel and de-seed a pumpkin, and boil it in a little water until it all turns to mush. Then you add coconut milk and sugar, and eat it.
April 7th was Mozambican Woman’s Day. There was a ceremony in the morning with dancing, singing, drum circles, and other cultural activities. Everyone was really excited that I wore some traditional Mozambican clothes, a long cloth wrapped around my waist for a skirt, and a head scarf (like bandana style, not Muslim style). In the afternoon, I had a party at my house. They brought a generator over and we had music and everything. It was a lot of fun!
From last month
I wrote this when I was here for the conference in March, but then never got to post it. It is outdated, but I don't have time to update it:
Well the conference is over now. I'm about to go back with a friend to see her site in Zambezia province. It's known for being really beautiful and has a mountain to hike, and then I'll go back to my site this weekend. The conference went well, but I'm ready for it to be over.
So in the past month at site...
We had the district superintendent come to our school to address some reports of unprofessional behaviour that had been filed. They began by reading the names of the accused teachers along with the behavior: Teacher Joao is accused to bribing a student for 50 mets (the currency unit). Teacher Momade is accused of inviting a female student to his house at night, and then harrassing her in class because she didn't go to his house. etc. Then the teachers responded: "I didn't ask for 50 mets, that student just offered it to me, so I took it." "I invited her over at night for help with school." etc. Then it was emphasized that it is not prohibited for male teachers to date female students, but that they should only impregnate said student if they plan to marry her. (There is only one unmarried male teacher at the school. Multiple marriages are not legal here.) Then we talked about bribery. Is it ok for teachers to accept gifts from students? The teachers agreed there was nothing wrong with it, and that if it was something small not only could they accept it when offered, but they could also ask for it when not offered. I was surprised and impressed that the district superintendent disagreed.
The food options have increased dramatically. I no longer feel the need to come to Nampula City every other week to add some variety to my diet. Which is great, because I really don't like Nampula. We went to a craft market on Sunday, and a friend I was with had her purse slashed, but luckily nothing was stolen. I have learned how to cook with okra, which makes a really good dish to put over rice.
My director has finally said that the teacher who was going to be my roommate will not come this year. I'm thinking about getting a student to live with me. In exchange for food and a place to live, she would do the cooking, cleaning, etc.
The coming month at site...
I'm really hoping to get an English Club up and going. I have surveyed the interest of my students, and they seem really excited about it. Now I just need to find a location. As a somewhat joint project for a smaller group of students, I want to get an English Theater group started too. There is already a network of Volunteers who have English theater groups, and in September there will be an event where we all get our groups together to perform. A smaller group of us volunteers want to start a new program for elementary students with Portuguese theater. Up here in the North, especially at rural sites, there is a big problem with students not speaking/understanding/reading Portuguese well. So we want to start a Portuguese theater for them, and possibly expand it to a sort of film festival, but the logistics for that aren't really logical, so we'll see what happens with that.
The first trimester ends in about a month. Here you need a 50% to pass a class. I have way too many students who are failing. A major problem a lot of us are having (which is a major problem in general here) is lack of motivation and self esteem on the part of the students. The students don't necessarily seem to realize the correlation between studying for a test and getting a good grade, so they don't bother to study because they assume that they will either pass or fail, and that there isn't much they can do to change the outcome. I think part of the problem is lack of study skills/knowing how to study, so in all honesty studying might not help them very much. I'm trying to figure out exactly how to address this, because if I hold a study skills class outside of school, no one will come. But the only way to get students to come is to do it during school, which would mean not teaching English that class. It would be great if they understood enough English to try to teach them in English how to study, but that wouldn't work.
Well the conference is over now. I'm about to go back with a friend to see her site in Zambezia province. It's known for being really beautiful and has a mountain to hike, and then I'll go back to my site this weekend. The conference went well, but I'm ready for it to be over.
So in the past month at site...
We had the district superintendent come to our school to address some reports of unprofessional behaviour that had been filed. They began by reading the names of the accused teachers along with the behavior: Teacher Joao is accused to bribing a student for 50 mets (the currency unit). Teacher Momade is accused of inviting a female student to his house at night, and then harrassing her in class because she didn't go to his house. etc. Then the teachers responded: "I didn't ask for 50 mets, that student just offered it to me, so I took it." "I invited her over at night for help with school." etc. Then it was emphasized that it is not prohibited for male teachers to date female students, but that they should only impregnate said student if they plan to marry her. (There is only one unmarried male teacher at the school. Multiple marriages are not legal here.) Then we talked about bribery. Is it ok for teachers to accept gifts from students? The teachers agreed there was nothing wrong with it, and that if it was something small not only could they accept it when offered, but they could also ask for it when not offered. I was surprised and impressed that the district superintendent disagreed.
The food options have increased dramatically. I no longer feel the need to come to Nampula City every other week to add some variety to my diet. Which is great, because I really don't like Nampula. We went to a craft market on Sunday, and a friend I was with had her purse slashed, but luckily nothing was stolen. I have learned how to cook with okra, which makes a really good dish to put over rice.
My director has finally said that the teacher who was going to be my roommate will not come this year. I'm thinking about getting a student to live with me. In exchange for food and a place to live, she would do the cooking, cleaning, etc.
The coming month at site...
I'm really hoping to get an English Club up and going. I have surveyed the interest of my students, and they seem really excited about it. Now I just need to find a location. As a somewhat joint project for a smaller group of students, I want to get an English Theater group started too. There is already a network of Volunteers who have English theater groups, and in September there will be an event where we all get our groups together to perform. A smaller group of us volunteers want to start a new program for elementary students with Portuguese theater. Up here in the North, especially at rural sites, there is a big problem with students not speaking/understanding/reading Portuguese well. So we want to start a Portuguese theater for them, and possibly expand it to a sort of film festival, but the logistics for that aren't really logical, so we'll see what happens with that.
The first trimester ends in about a month. Here you need a 50% to pass a class. I have way too many students who are failing. A major problem a lot of us are having (which is a major problem in general here) is lack of motivation and self esteem on the part of the students. The students don't necessarily seem to realize the correlation between studying for a test and getting a good grade, so they don't bother to study because they assume that they will either pass or fail, and that there isn't much they can do to change the outcome. I think part of the problem is lack of study skills/knowing how to study, so in all honesty studying might not help them very much. I'm trying to figure out exactly how to address this, because if I hold a study skills class outside of school, no one will come. But the only way to get students to come is to do it during school, which would mean not teaching English that class. It would be great if they understood enough English to try to teach them in English how to study, but that wouldn't work.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
A Stark Contrast (translated)
[A rough translation of Jess's last post, using a few online translation tools.]
Look at a map of Mozambique. Nampula City and Gurue (NW in Zambezia province) do not seem to be 12 hours apart. But sometimes they may be. After the conference, I decided to visit another volunteer for a few days on site in Gurue. We were very excited that the Peace Corps driver needed to make a visit to a nearby city, so we could get a free, fast ride there. Or so we thought. We left half an hour after the departure time indicated, which is, by definition, not late here. We had a good first hour-and-a-half drive, but then got a flat tire. The driver knew how to change it, and there was a spare tire ... only problem was that the spare tire was already flat. Then, after waiting for another spare, and then waiting for another transport, and at one point being harassed while waiting, we finally arrived in Gurue.
Let me make some comparisons between Gurue and Nacaroa: Gurue has actual stores where you can go in and look for products and choose what you want and take it to the cash register to pay. Nacaroa has shops that consist of a counter, behind which are some shelves that are stocked with a selection of basic products. You tell the worker what you want, and he or she takes it off the shelf and gives it to you. There are no cash registers, and people tend to use calculators to add 15 + 30, or multiply 3 x 6. Gurue has street lights that work, computers and a computer room at school, an internet cafe (where I am now), electricity (obviously) and running water at certain times of the day. Nacaroa has street lights that are, apparently, a decorative item as there is no electricity. Ironically, the only time you can see the street lights is during the day. The whole town has no public computers, no Internet, and running water is not even in anyone's thoughts. Electricity is on everyone's mind, though. How to have a chicken dinner: Gurue – go to the store and buy a pack of boneless, skinless chicken breasts. Nacaroa – buy a live chicken, kill it, defeather it, skin it, cook it. Gurue has real streets and gas pumps. Nacaroa has dirt roads and guys who sell gas in water bottles. (I'm not sure where they get the gas from, but they painted “BP” on the side of the stall that sells it, which makes me laugh.)
On the other hand: in Gurue, men harass you at the market, and the people don’t really know each other and rarely greet you in the streets. In Nacaroa, people greet each other and smile. I cannot go to the market without meeting at least 3 people I know and ten foreigners in a 10-minute walk. In Gurue, there are other white people, so there's nothing special about me. Everyone in Nacaroa is interested in talking to me because I'm the only white person around and they do not know what to think. In Gurue, starting work by 7 am is super early. In Nacaroa, I see at least three people I know on the streets before 6 am – when I'm running, just before leaving for work.
Overall, Gurue is amazing, but Nacaroa is much more of what I expected and wanted for my two years in Africa.
I'll probably post again tomorrow.
Look at a map of Mozambique. Nampula City and Gurue (NW in Zambezia province) do not seem to be 12 hours apart. But sometimes they may be. After the conference, I decided to visit another volunteer for a few days on site in Gurue. We were very excited that the Peace Corps driver needed to make a visit to a nearby city, so we could get a free, fast ride there. Or so we thought. We left half an hour after the departure time indicated, which is, by definition, not late here. We had a good first hour-and-a-half drive, but then got a flat tire. The driver knew how to change it, and there was a spare tire ... only problem was that the spare tire was already flat. Then, after waiting for another spare, and then waiting for another transport, and at one point being harassed while waiting, we finally arrived in Gurue.
Let me make some comparisons between Gurue and Nacaroa: Gurue has actual stores where you can go in and look for products and choose what you want and take it to the cash register to pay. Nacaroa has shops that consist of a counter, behind which are some shelves that are stocked with a selection of basic products. You tell the worker what you want, and he or she takes it off the shelf and gives it to you. There are no cash registers, and people tend to use calculators to add 15 + 30, or multiply 3 x 6. Gurue has street lights that work, computers and a computer room at school, an internet cafe (where I am now), electricity (obviously) and running water at certain times of the day. Nacaroa has street lights that are, apparently, a decorative item as there is no electricity. Ironically, the only time you can see the street lights is during the day. The whole town has no public computers, no Internet, and running water is not even in anyone's thoughts. Electricity is on everyone's mind, though. How to have a chicken dinner: Gurue – go to the store and buy a pack of boneless, skinless chicken breasts. Nacaroa – buy a live chicken, kill it, defeather it, skin it, cook it. Gurue has real streets and gas pumps. Nacaroa has dirt roads and guys who sell gas in water bottles. (I'm not sure where they get the gas from, but they painted “BP” on the side of the stall that sells it, which makes me laugh.)
On the other hand: in Gurue, men harass you at the market, and the people don’t really know each other and rarely greet you in the streets. In Nacaroa, people greet each other and smile. I cannot go to the market without meeting at least 3 people I know and ten foreigners in a 10-minute walk. In Gurue, there are other white people, so there's nothing special about me. Everyone in Nacaroa is interested in talking to me because I'm the only white person around and they do not know what to think. In Gurue, starting work by 7 am is super early. In Nacaroa, I see at least three people I know on the streets before 6 am – when I'm running, just before leaving for work.
Overall, Gurue is amazing, but Nacaroa is much more of what I expected and wanted for my two years in Africa.
I'll probably post again tomorrow.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
A stark contrast
Olhe para um mapa de Moçambique. Cidade de Nampula e Gurue (em NW província da Zambézia), não parece ser uma viagem de 12 horas de intervalo. Mas eles podem ser. Após a conferência, decidi visitar um outro voluntário para alguns dias em seu site na Gurue. Estávamos muito animado que o Corpo de Paz driver necessário para fazer uma visita a um neraby cidade, para que pudéssemos obter um livre, rápido passeio mais do caminho. Ou então pensamos. Saímos de menos de meia hora depois da hora de partida indicado, que é, por definição, não tarde aqui. Tivemos um bom primeiro horas e meia de viagem, mas tem um pneu furado. O motorista sabia como mudar isso, houve uma tomada e um pneu sobressalente ... único problema foi que o pneu sobressalente já era plana. Então, depois de esperar, pegar uma carona, esperando encontrar uma chapa, a ser assediado durante a espera e, finalmente, encontrar uma outra chapa chegamos Gurue.
Deixe-me fazer algumas comparações entre Gurue e Nacaroa: Gurue tem lojas reais, onde você pode ir dentro e olhar para os produtos e escolha o que quiser e levá-lo para a caixa registadora para pagar. Nacaroa tem lojas que consistem de um balcão, atrás do qual são algumas prateleiras que estão abastecido com uma seleção de produtos básicos. Você diz que o trabalhador que quiser, e tirá-lo da prateleira e entregá-lo para você. Não existem registos de dinheiro, e as pessoas costumam usar calculadoras para adicionar 15 + 30, ou multiplicar 3 x 6. Gurue tem luzes de rua que trabalham, computadores e sala de informática na escola, um internet café que eu estou agora, energia elétrica (obviamente) de água e execução em determinados momentos do dia. Nacaroa tem luzes de rua que são, aparentemente, um item decorativo pois não há eletricidade. Ironicamente, a única vez que você pode ver as luzes da rua se durante o dia. A cidade inteira não tem computadores públicos, definitivamente internet não, e água corrente, não é mesmo na mente de ninguém. (Como a eletricidade é na mente de todos embora.) Como comer frango com jantar: Gurue, ir à loja e comprar um maço de desossada, breats frango sem pele. Nacaroa-comprar uma galinha viva, matá-lo, defeather ele, a pele dela, cozinhá-lo. Gurue tem meios de tráfego e bombas de gás. Nacaroa tem estradas de terra e caras que vendem gás em garrafas de água. (Eu não tenho certeza se ele recebe a partir de. Mas eles pintaram "BP" do lado da barraca que vende-lo, o que me faz sorrir.)
Por outro lado, Gurue tem homens que assediá-lo no mercado. Nacaroa tem pessoas que cumprimentá-lo e sorrir. Pessoas em Gurue realmente não sei se mutuamente e raramente cumprimentá-lo nas ruas. Em Nacaroa eu não posso ir ao mercado sem cumprimentar pelo menos 3 pessoas que eu conheço e 10 estrangeiros na caminhada de 10 minutos. Gurue tem outras pessoas brancas, por isso não tem nada de especial aqui. Evenone em Nacaroa está interessado em falar comigo porque eu sou a única pessoa branca em volta e não sabem o que pensar. Em Gurue começar a trabalhar por 7am é super precoce. Em Nacaroa vejo pelo menos três pessoas que conheço nas ruas antes de 6 da manhã, quando eu vou correr, só sair antes do trabalho.
Globalmente, Gurue é surpreendente, mas Nacaroa é muito mais do que eu imaginava e queria para os meus dois anos na África.
Eu provavelmente vou postar novamente amanhã.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
A week in the big city
I'm in Nampula City for the week for a conference. I took an amazing warm shower with running water last night. I'd forgotten how nice things like that are! And the food here...it's a buffet with all sorts of exotic food, like meat, fruit, yogurt, ice cream, and salad! Ok, so it's not exotic per se, but it's stuff I can't/don't eat at site. There is also air conditioning, electricity, and all sorts of frivolous things like that!
Work is going well. I really like the other teachers I work with, even though I do sometimes see them accepting bribes and doing things that are "really bad" by American standards, but here it's so common that you can't really judge the individual because it's really a societal thing. I'm in the process of trying to get an English club going, and there seems to be a lot of interest in it. I'm not sure how interest will translate to actual attendance, but we'll see. I've been having such a great time just hanging out in the afternoons (I only teach in the mornings), visiting friends and colleagues, watching soccer games in the community, etc that I've been really unmotivated to get other projects going, but I know I should, so English club will be Secondary Project #1.
I've started trying to learn Macua, the local langauge. There is a teacher at the elementary school who really wants to become and English teacher, so I teach him Engilsh, and he teaches me Macua. I let him borrow an English self-learn book that I have, and he skipped school the next day to do a bunch of exercises in it.
My director has finally admited that my roommate is not coming this year. I'm thinking about getting a student to come live with me. A lot of teachers and other people do this with orphans or students with other family problems. The student does all of the cleaning, cooking, washing, etc in exchange for a place to live and food to eat. So that would be helpful, and I think worth the additional cost of food, especially since I don't spend nearly all of my monthly salary, cuz there's really not a whole lot to buy.
Some price/other examples:
1 kilo of beans: 10 mets/$0.33
a good flashlight: 100 mets/~$3
getting to the capital: 100 mets/150 kilometers/ ~100 miles/ 3-4 hours
a decent sized lime: .5mets / 2 cents
a large roll (bread): 2 mets / 7 cents
1 egg: 6 mets / 20 cents
a lot of okra: 5 mets / 17 cents
too many (fresh) peanuts to eat in one sitting: 1 met / 3 cents
Exciting news from Mike: He got an invitation to be a Volunteer too! He should know the exact location and leave date soon, but for now we (think) we know Africa, and leaving in June.
Look for more posts in the next few days
Work is going well. I really like the other teachers I work with, even though I do sometimes see them accepting bribes and doing things that are "really bad" by American standards, but here it's so common that you can't really judge the individual because it's really a societal thing. I'm in the process of trying to get an English club going, and there seems to be a lot of interest in it. I'm not sure how interest will translate to actual attendance, but we'll see. I've been having such a great time just hanging out in the afternoons (I only teach in the mornings), visiting friends and colleagues, watching soccer games in the community, etc that I've been really unmotivated to get other projects going, but I know I should, so English club will be Secondary Project #1.
I've started trying to learn Macua, the local langauge. There is a teacher at the elementary school who really wants to become and English teacher, so I teach him Engilsh, and he teaches me Macua. I let him borrow an English self-learn book that I have, and he skipped school the next day to do a bunch of exercises in it.
My director has finally admited that my roommate is not coming this year. I'm thinking about getting a student to come live with me. A lot of teachers and other people do this with orphans or students with other family problems. The student does all of the cleaning, cooking, washing, etc in exchange for a place to live and food to eat. So that would be helpful, and I think worth the additional cost of food, especially since I don't spend nearly all of my monthly salary, cuz there's really not a whole lot to buy.
Some price/other examples:
1 kilo of beans: 10 mets/$0.33
a good flashlight: 100 mets/~$3
getting to the capital: 100 mets/150 kilometers/ ~100 miles/ 3-4 hours
a decent sized lime: .5mets / 2 cents
a large roll (bread): 2 mets / 7 cents
1 egg: 6 mets / 20 cents
a lot of okra: 5 mets / 17 cents
too many (fresh) peanuts to eat in one sitting: 1 met / 3 cents
Exciting news from Mike: He got an invitation to be a Volunteer too! He should know the exact location and leave date soon, but for now we (think) we know Africa, and leaving in June.
Look for more posts in the next few days
Saturday, February 27, 2010
My house etc
My house has a lot of make-shift things. To start, my bookcase is the cardboard box that my oven came in. My spice racks are made from pieces of cardboard that I folded and duct taped to make rectangle boxes, and then used fabric to make strings to hang them from nails on my wall. The nails are actually real nails, hammered in using a rock. My dresser is still my suitcase. I asked for an armoire, but instead my director had the “well thought” idea to change that request and tell the carpenters to make me a coat rack. I will be buying hangars today in Nampula. I had a very nice cornfield in my back yard, but now a have only a so-so cornfield. First, my neighbors had the insight to cut down a tree in their yard, which fell into my yard, which damaged some corn, and they just left their fallen tree there in my way. I say they had the insight to do that, because a few days later a very similar tree that I had in my yard fell over in a rainstorm, damaging even more corn. Oh well, there was way more corn than I would have ever been able to use anyway.
So last weekend a woman showed up at my house. “Do you know how to make matapa?” she asked me. I didn’t. “Ok when do you want to come make some with me?” I told her I didn’t know. I was still trying to figure out who she was, if I was supposed to know who she was, if I had met her before, etc. “Today?” she asked. I suggested the following day. She sent a girl who lives in my neighborhood who I had talked to several times to come get me the next day, and we went to her house. She lives only a 2 minute walk from me, but it is drastically more rural. Her house was made of sticks and mud. Mine is made from cement blocks with a tin roof. Many of her family members didn’t speak much Portuguese. First we picked green beans, but not like American green beans. These are beans that come in the pod, but you have to take the beans out and cook them like dried beans. Then we picked pumpkin leaves. Then they pounded and crushed peanuts to make them look like flour. Then you just cook it all together, and you have this stuff to put over rice. I finally figured out that she was the sister of the head secretary at school. (Head secretary is a very prestigious position. You can get promoted from being a teacher to being the head secretary.)
I got a thermometer sent from home a few weeks ago: average temperatures out side are about 95-96 during the afternoon, and 80ish or even a little lower at night. Inside, it’s usually around 90-92 in the afternoon, and 85-87 at bed time, and maybe low eighties when I wake up. 95 outside can actually be pretty pleasant (or at least not unpleasant) in the shade, especially with even a small breeze. But 85 inside at night is surprisingly miserable to sleep in. When I wake up in the middle of the night, I’m often sweaty and gross. Therefore, I often opt to sleep on my porch, which isn’t nearly as soft, but overall much more pleasant.
It is malaria season here, because it is the rainy season. I can’t even count how many people I know who have gotten it already, but it doesn’t seem like too big of a deal to them. They just take the medicine, which is really cheap and easy to get, and get better.
My guard is one of those people who got malaria. Obviously I sent him home and told him he didn’t have to work. A few days later he came back, and offered to clean my house, as he occasionally does. I knew my floors were a bit dirty, so I did a quick sweep before he came in so he wouldn’t think I was gross. But he still swept out a too-big pile of dirt, scrubbed my floors, washed some rags and buckets, etc. So I decided to give him a peanut butter sandwich (peanut butter is kind of a big deal here). That night when he arrived for work, he gave me a broom and told me that his wife wanted to give it to me. I’m still not sure if it was a thank you for letting him rest at home/the peanut butter sandwich, or a hint that I should sweep more often. Based on the culture, and my preference, I’m going to assume it was a thank you present.
I really like the other teachers at the school. There are only one or two other female teachers who work in the morning with me, but they either don’t come to work very often, or avoid the teachers’ lounge. Anyway, a group of male teachers came up to me and asked me how to say a word in English, but I didn’t understand the work in Portuguese that they wanted to know. So they preceded to act it out: one teacher bent over and made a noise. Another teacher pointed to his butt and made a face and waved his hand in front of his nose. “Oh! To fart.” They asked me to write it for them, and conjugate it in the past tense. Then they preceded to perform some sort of skit about someone who smelled a fart and wanted to know “Who farted?” I was a little confused, but entertained. They were very entertained with themselves.
Anyone here over the age of 10 or so can bite the tops off of beer or soda bottles that are supposed to require a bottle opener. Anyone over the age of ten can also carry at least 10 gallons of water on their head.
Men here pee in public a lot. Take any place that a drunk American would consider peeing in at night, and a sober Mozambican man will pee there in the middle of the day, with anyone in sight. Snot rockets are also perfectly acceptable by any person in any outside location. Same goes for spitting, including (maybe even especially) during meals.
Our definition of good bread here is pretty much any bread that doesn’t have sand or rocks in it. Bread can still be termed decent if it has only a little bit of sand.
The Portuguese word for chalk is giz. This has led to some very mature jokes among us volunteer about having giz on our pants, etc. Whats that white stuff all over you? Hey, looks like you had a good class, you have giz all over your pants!
I have been asked if I’m afraid of rain, thunder, lightening, heavy rain, the dark, going to the bathroom alone at night, soccer balls, bugs, lizards, butterflies, really heavy rain motorcycles, and many other things that I’m not afraid of. But whenever I tell people I’m afraid of rats, they look at me like I’m weird and they don’t understand why I would be scared of them.
So last weekend a woman showed up at my house. “Do you know how to make matapa?” she asked me. I didn’t. “Ok when do you want to come make some with me?” I told her I didn’t know. I was still trying to figure out who she was, if I was supposed to know who she was, if I had met her before, etc. “Today?” she asked. I suggested the following day. She sent a girl who lives in my neighborhood who I had talked to several times to come get me the next day, and we went to her house. She lives only a 2 minute walk from me, but it is drastically more rural. Her house was made of sticks and mud. Mine is made from cement blocks with a tin roof. Many of her family members didn’t speak much Portuguese. First we picked green beans, but not like American green beans. These are beans that come in the pod, but you have to take the beans out and cook them like dried beans. Then we picked pumpkin leaves. Then they pounded and crushed peanuts to make them look like flour. Then you just cook it all together, and you have this stuff to put over rice. I finally figured out that she was the sister of the head secretary at school. (Head secretary is a very prestigious position. You can get promoted from being a teacher to being the head secretary.)
I got a thermometer sent from home a few weeks ago: average temperatures out side are about 95-96 during the afternoon, and 80ish or even a little lower at night. Inside, it’s usually around 90-92 in the afternoon, and 85-87 at bed time, and maybe low eighties when I wake up. 95 outside can actually be pretty pleasant (or at least not unpleasant) in the shade, especially with even a small breeze. But 85 inside at night is surprisingly miserable to sleep in. When I wake up in the middle of the night, I’m often sweaty and gross. Therefore, I often opt to sleep on my porch, which isn’t nearly as soft, but overall much more pleasant.
It is malaria season here, because it is the rainy season. I can’t even count how many people I know who have gotten it already, but it doesn’t seem like too big of a deal to them. They just take the medicine, which is really cheap and easy to get, and get better.
My guard is one of those people who got malaria. Obviously I sent him home and told him he didn’t have to work. A few days later he came back, and offered to clean my house, as he occasionally does. I knew my floors were a bit dirty, so I did a quick sweep before he came in so he wouldn’t think I was gross. But he still swept out a too-big pile of dirt, scrubbed my floors, washed some rags and buckets, etc. So I decided to give him a peanut butter sandwich (peanut butter is kind of a big deal here). That night when he arrived for work, he gave me a broom and told me that his wife wanted to give it to me. I’m still not sure if it was a thank you for letting him rest at home/the peanut butter sandwich, or a hint that I should sweep more often. Based on the culture, and my preference, I’m going to assume it was a thank you present.
I really like the other teachers at the school. There are only one or two other female teachers who work in the morning with me, but they either don’t come to work very often, or avoid the teachers’ lounge. Anyway, a group of male teachers came up to me and asked me how to say a word in English, but I didn’t understand the work in Portuguese that they wanted to know. So they preceded to act it out: one teacher bent over and made a noise. Another teacher pointed to his butt and made a face and waved his hand in front of his nose. “Oh! To fart.” They asked me to write it for them, and conjugate it in the past tense. Then they preceded to perform some sort of skit about someone who smelled a fart and wanted to know “Who farted?” I was a little confused, but entertained. They were very entertained with themselves.
Anyone here over the age of 10 or so can bite the tops off of beer or soda bottles that are supposed to require a bottle opener. Anyone over the age of ten can also carry at least 10 gallons of water on their head.
Men here pee in public a lot. Take any place that a drunk American would consider peeing in at night, and a sober Mozambican man will pee there in the middle of the day, with anyone in sight. Snot rockets are also perfectly acceptable by any person in any outside location. Same goes for spitting, including (maybe even especially) during meals.
Our definition of good bread here is pretty much any bread that doesn’t have sand or rocks in it. Bread can still be termed decent if it has only a little bit of sand.
The Portuguese word for chalk is giz. This has led to some very mature jokes among us volunteer about having giz on our pants, etc. Whats that white stuff all over you? Hey, looks like you had a good class, you have giz all over your pants!
I have been asked if I’m afraid of rain, thunder, lightening, heavy rain, the dark, going to the bathroom alone at night, soccer balls, bugs, lizards, butterflies, really heavy rain motorcycles, and many other things that I’m not afraid of. But whenever I tell people I’m afraid of rats, they look at me like I’m weird and they don’t understand why I would be scared of them.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
More updates
I´ve been really impressed with the school overall. It seems well organized, has some books, and the teachers usually show up, which is a real problem at a lot of schools here. My director is organized, helpful, and really nice. I feel like in training I heard a lot of the volunteers that we talked to had some negative experiences with their schools, directors, other teachers, etc, but I feel like the other teachers respect, and they talk to me and stuff. I have learned that 7:00 means show up by 8:00, and so on, and optional means no one is coming, and stuff like that, but when school is actually in session most of the teachers and students come. We even have a ´teachers lounge´ which is a gazebo/pavilion type thing outside under the trees. Its actually really nice to relax there between classes.
Overall I really like my community, school, and everything about site. Except rats in my toilet and house. Traveling usually sucks, takes a while in crowded vehicles, get harassed as a tourist, whistled and yelled at etc, but at site, where I am most of the time, the people seem pretty excited about me being there. The most annoying thing is people who speak really bad English insisting on trying to have a conversation with me in English instead of Portuguese, which I hate, but it´s good that at least they´re trying and want to learn and stuff.
Overall I really like my community, school, and everything about site. Except rats in my toilet and house. Traveling usually sucks, takes a while in crowded vehicles, get harassed as a tourist, whistled and yelled at etc, but at site, where I am most of the time, the people seem pretty excited about me being there. The most annoying thing is people who speak really bad English insisting on trying to have a conversation with me in English instead of Portuguese, which I hate, but it´s good that at least they´re trying and want to learn and stuff.
Back to school
Finally another post! To start, I just finished my first week of teaching! It has gone well, but the students have a much more basic level than what I was expecting. The national curriculum says they should be learning “I will be doing” and “I will have done” (future continuous and perfect), and they can’t even write in the simple past. We have a lot of work to do this year. Also, about 25% of my 11th grade students are my age or older. My oldest student is 65 years old, and has never studied English before because when he did 10th grade Mozambique wasn’t even a country yet. But for the most part the students are respectful, try hard, and seem to want to learn English, so that’s nice. The other teachers have been nice, about 75% of them are men but I don’t feel that they have a sexist attitude to us female teachers, as other Volunteers seem to have experienced.
I teach only in the morning, which is nice because it is either super hot, or rainy in the afternoon. The school is about a mile from my house, so I’m glad not to walk in either of those conditions. When I leave my house at 6:30, it’s amazing how hot it already is.
Everything that’s happened since my last post:
-I got mugged. Broad daylight, on a main road, three guys grabbed me and asked for my phone and money. I gave them my phone (I have since bought a new one), and they ran away while I was looking for money. I was alone at the time, but walking to meet some friends. This was in Nampula City, something like this would never happen where I live. I went back two weeks ago with two male volunteers. They tried to mug one of the guys when we were all together, but didn’t succeed.
-We had a nice xmas celebration, all 10 of us new volunteers here in Nampula province. We decorated with stockings, paper snow flakes, and I made a wreath out of acacia branches. We had a secret santa exchange and made cookies!
-There was a rat in my house. I hate rats. But luckily I have a guard, so I made him come in a beat it with a stick. There is a much longer story of knowing the rat was in my house/room and not being able to find it for a few days and sleepless nights. various plans for how to kill it, etc, but this will suffice.
-I no longer have electricity ever. The generator ran out of gas the beginning of the month, and they are not organized enough to figure out how to collect money and keep track of who has paid and who hasn’t. I have heard that it should start again February 1st, but I’m not counting on it.
-There is still pretty much no fresh produce at site, just mangos, onions, potatoes, limes, and sometimes tomatoes and pineapples. In about a month more should be ready. This lack of food options was not helped this past week by the fact that my gas tank for my stove ran out, so I’ve been eating a lot of peanut butter or tuna fish sandwiches since Tuesday.
Fun Facts:
-here the paper and binders have two holes, not three
-blue ink is the norm for official business, not black
-breast feeding in public is normal, as is leaving the breast hanging in the open so the kid can start feeding again at will
-false cognate: constipado. It means having a stuffy/runny nose, not being constipated, but caused a little awkwardness before I knew that
-I wash my clothes in basins. I don’t know why some many people in the US hate doing laundry, all it entails is throwing clothes in a machine and pushing buttons. Here I scrub each piece of clothing my hand and get blisters.
-It’s really really hot.
I might update more in a few minutes. We will see.
I teach only in the morning, which is nice because it is either super hot, or rainy in the afternoon. The school is about a mile from my house, so I’m glad not to walk in either of those conditions. When I leave my house at 6:30, it’s amazing how hot it already is.
Everything that’s happened since my last post:
-I got mugged. Broad daylight, on a main road, three guys grabbed me and asked for my phone and money. I gave them my phone (I have since bought a new one), and they ran away while I was looking for money. I was alone at the time, but walking to meet some friends. This was in Nampula City, something like this would never happen where I live. I went back two weeks ago with two male volunteers. They tried to mug one of the guys when we were all together, but didn’t succeed.
-We had a nice xmas celebration, all 10 of us new volunteers here in Nampula province. We decorated with stockings, paper snow flakes, and I made a wreath out of acacia branches. We had a secret santa exchange and made cookies!
-There was a rat in my house. I hate rats. But luckily I have a guard, so I made him come in a beat it with a stick. There is a much longer story of knowing the rat was in my house/room and not being able to find it for a few days and sleepless nights. various plans for how to kill it, etc, but this will suffice.
-I no longer have electricity ever. The generator ran out of gas the beginning of the month, and they are not organized enough to figure out how to collect money and keep track of who has paid and who hasn’t. I have heard that it should start again February 1st, but I’m not counting on it.
-There is still pretty much no fresh produce at site, just mangos, onions, potatoes, limes, and sometimes tomatoes and pineapples. In about a month more should be ready. This lack of food options was not helped this past week by the fact that my gas tank for my stove ran out, so I’ve been eating a lot of peanut butter or tuna fish sandwiches since Tuesday.
Fun Facts:
-here the paper and binders have two holes, not three
-blue ink is the norm for official business, not black
-breast feeding in public is normal, as is leaving the breast hanging in the open so the kid can start feeding again at will
-false cognate: constipado. It means having a stuffy/runny nose, not being constipated, but caused a little awkwardness before I knew that
-I wash my clothes in basins. I don’t know why some many people in the US hate doing laundry, all it entails is throwing clothes in a machine and pushing buttons. Here I scrub each piece of clothing my hand and get blisters.
-It’s really really hot.
I might update more in a few minutes. We will see.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
First trip to Nampula City
[Written by mom and dad after speaking with Jess]
I had a nice Christmas visiting with other volunteers in Monopo, but I wasn’t able to blog from there because the internet café was closed for Christmas. So I asked my parents to update my blog. [Editor’s note: Jess’s dad has been rather slow to post this.]
I had an exciting time on my first trip to Nampula City. When I arrived, after a 3-hour chapa ride, I called the other volunteers that I had planned on meeting there. As I put my cell phone back in my pack, three guys suddenly surrounded me, telling me to give them my cell phone and my money. I handed over the phone, and they started saying “Hurry up! Give us your money!” I searched through my purse trying to find the money; the guys kept saying to hurry; I kept searching; and in a few seconds they ran away. I guess I was lucky that I didn’t find the money. It all happened so quickly that I didn't even have time to get scared.
After a couple of hours at the police station, reporting the robbery, I ran into the other volunteers and we did some shopping. First on my list was a new cell phone – I opted for a more basic (ie, cheaper) model than the one that had just been stolen. Next was food and household stuff. I didn’t buy as much as I planned to, because the merchants tried charging me prices way above what they were charging the local people. When I questioned this, the answer usually was “take it or leave it,” and in most cases, I left it. Overall, shopping in Nampula City was rather frustrating. But the day wasn’t over yet – I still had to get back home.
When I went to pay for the chapa ride going back to Nacaroa, they asked for a price much higher than what was reasonable. Again, their attitude was “take it or leave it.” And again, I wouldn’t pay the unfair prices that they wanted. Instead, I found a more economical, though less comfortable, means of transportation, crammed in like sardines with a bunch of other people. The woman next to me was holding a baby, sandwiched between us. It was kind of cute for a while, but unfortunately, the baby was facing my way when his/her bladder decided to relieve itself. Finally, I got back home, washed up, and began looking forward to the next day.
I am learning what it is like to stand out as an obvious non-local. In Nampula City, they charged me higher prices. Here in Nacaroa, everybody knows where I live and that I am the new
American teacher. I’ve had kids knock on my door and ask if I would hire them to do some work for me. The school provides a guard who watches the house overnight, sweeps the yard, and replenishes our water supply as needed. The other day he told me that he also is a good mechanic, and wanted a job fixing things.
The school year will start soon. Teachers are supposed to arrive by Jan 11, and classes will start around Jan 18. It’s finally been decided that I will teach English, not Chemistry. I will have three sections of 11th grade English, which meets five days a week. I also will be Director of a quarter of the 11th grade students. I am looking forward to it.
I had a nice Christmas visiting with other volunteers in Monopo, but I wasn’t able to blog from there because the internet café was closed for Christmas. So I asked my parents to update my blog. [Editor’s note: Jess’s dad has been rather slow to post this.]
I had an exciting time on my first trip to Nampula City. When I arrived, after a 3-hour chapa ride, I called the other volunteers that I had planned on meeting there. As I put my cell phone back in my pack, three guys suddenly surrounded me, telling me to give them my cell phone and my money. I handed over the phone, and they started saying “Hurry up! Give us your money!” I searched through my purse trying to find the money; the guys kept saying to hurry; I kept searching; and in a few seconds they ran away. I guess I was lucky that I didn’t find the money. It all happened so quickly that I didn't even have time to get scared.
After a couple of hours at the police station, reporting the robbery, I ran into the other volunteers and we did some shopping. First on my list was a new cell phone – I opted for a more basic (ie, cheaper) model than the one that had just been stolen. Next was food and household stuff. I didn’t buy as much as I planned to, because the merchants tried charging me prices way above what they were charging the local people. When I questioned this, the answer usually was “take it or leave it,” and in most cases, I left it. Overall, shopping in Nampula City was rather frustrating. But the day wasn’t over yet – I still had to get back home.
When I went to pay for the chapa ride going back to Nacaroa, they asked for a price much higher than what was reasonable. Again, their attitude was “take it or leave it.” And again, I wouldn’t pay the unfair prices that they wanted. Instead, I found a more economical, though less comfortable, means of transportation, crammed in like sardines with a bunch of other people. The woman next to me was holding a baby, sandwiched between us. It was kind of cute for a while, but unfortunately, the baby was facing my way when his/her bladder decided to relieve itself. Finally, I got back home, washed up, and began looking forward to the next day.
I am learning what it is like to stand out as an obvious non-local. In Nampula City, they charged me higher prices. Here in Nacaroa, everybody knows where I live and that I am the new
American teacher. I’ve had kids knock on my door and ask if I would hire them to do some work for me. The school provides a guard who watches the house overnight, sweeps the yard, and replenishes our water supply as needed. The other day he told me that he also is a good mechanic, and wanted a job fixing things.
The school year will start soon. Teachers are supposed to arrive by Jan 11, and classes will start around Jan 18. It’s finally been decided that I will teach English, not Chemistry. I will have three sections of 11th grade English, which meets five days a week. I also will be Director of a quarter of the 11th grade students. I am looking forward to it.
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