06/05/10

Today at the end of morning announcements our Pedagogical Director mentioned that someone from the government was coming this afternoon so if anyone wanted to see him they should go to The Mango Tree at 1pm. Of course if one hasn’t been here they will miss the terrible irony of referring to The Mango Tree in a country where half the trees are mango trees. Afterwards I asked a colleague who this person was who was coming and he told me the Prime Minister. “Like THE Prime minister?” I asked. “Yeah” he said, thinking that I hadn’t understood “he is like your, what do you call it, Secretary of State I think.”
Right as I got into bed for a 20 minute nap after classes someone knocked on my door, of course. It was one of the Catholic sisters who live in town. She was planning to take a group of kids to the South African owned place on the river where I had been once (most tranquil and wonderful place) and had talked to the guy, but wanted me to call and just make sure that everything was set because she worried that her English hadn’t been good enough. I talked to him and I think we got everything figured out, but I didn’t tell her that I can much easier understand her Portuguese than his South African accent.
Not wanting to have to wait too long I found my way to The Mango Tree (which has a bunch of trees, but I am still not sure which one is The one) at about 2pm, but still had to wait 45 minutes. There was tons of singing and dancing before he and his entourage came and then still more to welcome him, and then three dance groups preformed for him once he arrived. He was introduced by a local Inharrime government person, then the governor of Inhambane province, and then he spoke for a long time about how we can improve as a country (such as farming), how much progress has been made in the past ten years, and about future government plans. Every single word was translated into Txitxopi. Afterwards the floor was opened for people to speak (all of them spoke in Txitxopi) and then all the important people piled back into their big cars and drove away. As I was leaving I heard an older Mozambican remark dryly, “He came, he lied, he left.”
As we were walking back up to the mission we passed the Prime Minister’s entourage of cars parked outside of a restaurant on the highway. In the back of one truck was a huge and heavily sedated bull.