Friday, December 14, 2012

14/12/12


            Yesterday I was taking the elevator in the building in New York City where I’m staying. The door opened to a middle-aged man and his mother already on the elevator, so I greeted them “good morning” and got on. The man greeted me warmly back and then asked me where I am from. Well I have absolutely zero idea how to answer this question and got extremely flustered. “Do you mean where do I live? Or where I grew up? Or what my heritage is?” He was probably equally confused by my discombobulated response, so he settled on heritage. After I answered he told me, “I just wanted to say that I really appreciated you saying good morning to us.” He explained that he’s from Eastern Europe from a culture that values greeting others, but he’s often disappointed by how few people respond to him here in New York. I excitedly explained to him that I spent the past three years living in Mozambique in a similar culture, so I also appreciate greeting others. We chatted for a few minutes about our experiences because wishing each other good days. That’s one of the things I thought I would miss most about Mozambique/Africa—those momentary but wonderful connections you make with strangers who you’ll never meet again.
            I’m posting this from a bus, on my way from NYC to Boston. Wireless on a bus? America is blowing my mind. 

Tuesday, December 11, 2012

11/12/12

I'll be back soon enough!

            After a layover at the incredibly shiny Heathrow airport, I landed safely in New York City last night! Actually it was late afternoon but apparently it’s winter and far from the equator here, so the sun was already down. Oh brave new world! I’ve already gotten to eat some delicious food (Mexican!), indulge in some guilty pleasures (McDonald’s breakfast and a Twix bar), see friends from high school and college, and run into someone I knew on the street! I’m amazed by the bright lights everywhere—Christmas decorations and otherwise—and all the multitudes of well-dressed people. I’m surprised that everyone just waltzes around casually holding their big smartphones to their heads without worrying someone might snatch it. And I was under the impression that Americans and New Yorkers especially were rude, but I’m pleasantly surprised by how many people have smiled and greeted me back! 

Saturday, December 8, 2012

08/12/12


            Anna, Val, and I arrived safe and sound in Johannesburg at 4am this morning and have been spending the day with the wonderful John and Yvette. For those of you who have been with me for the past two or three years, they used to own Tsene Lodge, our little paradise on earth. It’s been great to see them again and know that even after the terrible situation, they have begun to make, and find themselves happy in, a new life for themselves here.
Now that I am no longer a PCV I am free to traipse about Johannesburg as I please (deemed too dangerous, it’s off-limits for PCVs except in transit). After all of the terrible things I have heard about it, and my limited interactions that were mostly restricted to the downtown areas around the bus station and airport, I have gotten to see a whole new side today that is really quite nice. Organic markets, African crafts, farms, and nurseries. Tomorrow night I fly out and I will land in New York City on Monday!

Friday, December 7, 2012

07/12/12

            I am now officially an RPCV—a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer! After arriving three long years ago in October 2009, I am finally no longer a PCV and moving on to the next part of my life. Below: Jordan, Valerie, Anna, and I—the last four standing from Moz 14. Now that we have all COSed, Moz 14 is officially done with PC/Mozambique.

            Tonight I take the bus to Johannesburg, where I will get to visit some old friends until I fly out on Sunday night. It’s hard to wrap my mind around, but on Monday afternoon I will land in New York City! I will hop from there to Boston, to Toronto, to Chicago, to Madison, to my hometown, to Ohio, to Chicago, and back to my hometown again before I fly back here to Africa. That will be one adventure, and then on January 16th begins the next one—my short stint in Swaziland!


05/12/12


            I’m down in Maputo this week for my COS (Close Of Service) processing. Lots of forms to fill out, and final medical check-ups before we are officially done!
            A few things from the past few months I never got a chance to write about. Back two months ago when I was writing grad school applications all the time, I had spent the entire weekend shut in the Peace Corps office working on applications. Early afternoon Sunday I decided that I deserved a break, so I went home, grabbed my book, sat on the porch and propped my feet up, and settled in for a relaxing few hours. This lasted about 5 minutes before I heard a pounding at my gate and children calling out “big sister Anata!” A handful of neighborhood kids had gathered at my gate and asked me to give them an English lesson. So before I knew it, I had about 13 kids sitting on the concrete slab inside our yard and I was conducting an impromptu English lesson. Not quite the relaxing afternoon I had envisioned, but a nice one nonetheless.
            Once when Anna was returning to Namaacha from a trip I took a book and went out to the main road to meet her and help with her bags. As she got off the chapa I greeted her with a big hug, then she went around back to get her bags. A man on the chapa said “oh, I don’t get a hug too?” I might get asked this 4 or 5 times a day, so I shook my head at him and thought nothing of it. “Don’t you remember me? I’m your cousin” he said. He told me who his parents are—Anna’s host parents—and reminded me that he had met me when I was visiting with my dad the day after Baby Anata was born. “Wait, so you are Anna’s brother?” I asked, pointing across the street to where she stood…talking to her 11 year old host brother. “Oh, that’s my brother!” he said. He explained that he had been living in Maputo and had never actually come to Namaacha while Anna lived with his family, so he had never met her, he only knew me from when I came back to visit. It was funny because they had sat almost next to each other the whole chapa ride, but it was me he recognized, not his own “sister.”
            One day Anna and I were walking home from the Peace Corps office through Namaacha. We passed a group of high school girls and said hi to them. They said hi back, and one gave us a particularly big smile, maybe you could even call it a knowing smirk. “How do we know her?!” Anna and I asked each other, and it was clear that she knew us. This drove us crazy for a few days until I a light bulb went off in my head and I went back to the photos from the 2011 REDES southern region conference at Barra beach last year. And there she was, smiling in pictures of the “blue group,” representing her REDES group from Namaacha at the regional conference. It still blows me away on a regular basis what a small country this is!

Monday, December 3, 2012

03/12/12


            Today I officially left Namaacha and came to Maputo to begin my COS (Close of Service) process. On Friday, after three whole years, I will officially become a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer (RPCV—some people call it “Recovering” Peace Corps Volunteer). And I think the timing is perfect. I’m not too jaded, I don’t hate Mozambique and I wasn’t itching to leave. At the same time I am 100% happy about leaving (okay, maybe 99%. I am sad to leave Baby Anata). Yesterday I had no mixed feelings as I walked away from my house and neighborhood children calling out to me, nor when I boarded my chapa. I was purely excited—excited to close this amazing chapter of my life, excited to go back to the states and see all the people I miss dearly, excited for all the fantastic things America offers (so basically food), and excited to move on to the next step in my life! 

Thursday, November 29, 2012

30/11/12


            My site—meaning my school in Inharrime—is not being replaced by a PCV this year. Apparently the school said they didn’t want someone, and the PCV who replaced me (but ended up leaving after the accident) was treated so poorly that Peace Corps was hesitant to place anyone there. It’s frustrating because it all basically boils down to one personality and it sucks that one person can prevent what would otherwise be a fantastic situation. I loved my school—I loved my students, my colleagues, and the many extracurricular activities I did there, and I know I was loved by many. I loved living at the orphanage with the girls and I know they loved me. It’s also a slap in the face that the school, or this one person, couldn’t see all the good and hard work I did there, and would say they didn’t want another PCV, presumably because of me.
            The other day I stopped by my host family’s house to say hi. One of my aunts was in town, so she offered me a beer and I got roped into staying. Baby Anata (who is unconditionally obsessed with me now) came over and reached for my cup. I laughed and shook my head at her, “trust me, you wouldn’t like it.” “Oh no, give her some, she totally likes it!” my host mom said. So I skeptically held my glass out to her and yep, my namesake loves beer!
            When we first moved into our house we had a lot of trouble with the neighborhood kids. They would provoke our dog by throwing rocks at it, they would try to provoke us, and they would sneak into our yard when we weren’t there and steal fruit. But slowly we were able to kill them with kindness and get them to see us as real people who live in their neighborhood, not some weird white people. Now they always ask before climbing up on our roof to get papayas, even though the way onto the roof is from outside our yard, they stop by to say hi, and whenever we leave the house we are greeted by a chorus of “Hi! Hello! Good morning!” until we are out of sight or until one of our exasperated adult neighbors yells at them all to shut up. We knew all their names and they greeted us by name—Aunt Ana and Aunt Anata. Life was good, and then school break happened. The family structure is fairly fluid here, so it’s normal for kids to live with extended family during the school year in order to attend classes, or for kids to go pass the holidays with extended family. So suddenly the child make-up of the neighborhood changed overnight and we are back to heathens who don’t know or respect us. “Our” kids have stayed true, running up to tell us about all the naughty kids who climbed on our roof while we were out, but all the other little jerks have been provoking us and the dog non-stop.
            The other morning I was returning from a run and saw two of “our” kids playing outside our gate. As I approached I took out my headphones to greet them. I hadn’t heard it, but apparently a kid farther away had called me mulungu. I had to stifle a laugh as one of “our” kids said, in an impatiently exasperated tone, “she’s NOT mulungu, this is Aunt Anata, yeesh!” 

21/11/12


            I had a few questions about whether we were ever able to buy energy for our house—yes we were thankfully. That afternoon we talked to one of the Peace Corps drivers in Namaacha who suggested we talk to one of the other Peace Corps drivers in Maputo to see if he could buy it there. Turns out he was doing work in Gaza province about 150km away, so I admitted defeat and prepared to settle in for a weekend without electricity. But then he told me to text him the code for our electricity box. He was able to find a cousin who was in the vicinity of the electricity place who he texted our code to, his cousin bought 100 Meticais worth of electricity and texted the code to him, then he texted the code to us and presumably paid his cousin later, then we paid him back the following week. Things are rarely ever simple here, but all’s well that ends well!
            On Tuesday and Wednesday of last week we visited Cabrini Ministries in St. Philip’s, Swaziland, where we will be working January-April of next year. It gave us a chance to meet future colleagues, see how and where we would be living, and get a more concrete idea of what our work will be. A mere 100km from where we currently live, it’s a completely different world. The language is different, both the official language (English vs Portuguese) and the local native language (SiSwati vs Changana). The customs and family structures are different. And the superficial level of “civilization” is much higher in Swaziland, there are trash cans, western cafes, and the supermarkets could almost be in America. Also the HIV/AIDS rate jumps a solid 15%. The trip was a really great opportunity for us to get a feel for what our life will be like soon. It also made me less sad about leaving here, because I am now looking forward to Swaziland, the next step in my life. 

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

18/11/12


            Today was a truly wonderful day. Sad that it will be one of my last ones here, and like this.
            When Julia was here visiting me she jokingly referred to me as the “pied piper” once because anywhere I went at the orphanage, I was followed by a throng of children. This morning I stopped by my host family’s house to pick up the kids for church. All the windows and doors were still shut, so after knocking a few times and not hearing any movement in the house, I went on to church alone. I was a little disappointed because it’s one of the last times I would get to go to mass with them, but I settled into to my usual pew alone and closed my eyes to pray. I felt a movement behind me and peeked back to see a girl from our neighborhood sitting next to me. A few minutes later I opened my eyes again and there were two more girls sitting with us. By the time I finished and sat back my row had six little girls sitting in it, and two more had spilled into the row in front of us. One of the girls was the little one who used to sit on my lap during mass at the beginning of the year when I was feeling incredibly homesick for all my girls back in Inharrime. She’s still just as cute, but now far too large to be sitting on anyone’s lap.
            In the morning Anna and I hung out with a PCV who was visiting from Inhambane province and some of the trainees. Then in the early afternoon some more trainees came over for our weekly cooking—this week’s theme was Mexican. Great food and fun and interesting people.
            I just finished reading “Reading Lolita in Tehran,” which I highly recommend everyone read. This quote on page 336 really spoke to me during this bittersweet transition time: “You get a strange feeling when you’re about to leave a place, like you’ll not only miss the people you love but you’ll miss the person you are now at this time and this place, because you’ll never be this way ever again.” 

Thursday, November 15, 2012

15/11/12

Monday afternoon I arrived at the electricity company at 3:10pm to buy more electricity for our house. The man stuck his head in the door then turned back to me, “sorry, we’re closed.” “But I thought you closed at 3:30pm” I said. He then explained to me that yes they do. Unfortunately for me, they close the selling window at 3pm, then they actually close up and go home at 3:30pm. “So you’re going to be here for the next 20 minutes but you won’t sell me electricity?” I asked him. “Yes.” This country drives me crazy sometimes.


I was with a Peace Corps driver and, since he knew I was leaving town the following day, he offered to buy it for us. I didn’t want to trouble him, so I told him not to worry about it, I would just buy some Thursday. Stupid. This morning I went to buy electricity, but their system is down. And there are currently riots happening in Maputo city due to increased chapa prices, so it seems that the whole city has been temporarily shut down, thus the chances of anything getting fixed out here are extremely low. I was considering going into Maputo tomorrow to run some errands, so I could also buy electricity while there. But I found out this morning that a travel ban has been placed on Maputo, due to the riots, so I can’t do that. I have tried talking to some Peace Corps staff who live in Maputo to see if any of them could buy us electricity and text us the number (to punch into the box on our house), but their travel around the city is also quite limited, so we are trying to find someone who is already in that part of town. Oh the joys of Mozambique.

Monday, November 12, 2012

13/11/12

About 8 weeks ago I wrote about being sick, I had a couple bad fevers and a sore throat. Using a flashlight and mirror I could see white spots in my throat, so I called the Peace Corps Medical Officer (PCMO) and was prescribed antibiotics over the phone. I felt better initially, but a few weeks later the same symptoms reappeared. I saw the PCMO again and she said that she wanted to wait to see if it would work itself out. After another week of no improvements I was prescribed to another kind of antibiotics. Last week my symptoms persisted and I happened to be in Maputo, so I was sent for chest x-rays and throat swabs. This morning the PCMO called me again to ask how I was. “My leg is looking better. The bruising is fading and the wound is getting smaller.” “And the other thing?” she asked. “That’s the same” I replied. “Yes, there’s a reason for that. We got your lab results, it turns out you have a strain of strep throat that is resistant to some antibiotics, including the two we already put you on.” She said she would research an alternative antibiotic and send it to me today. Hopefully this time it will work!
My leg. Two weeks ago I was walking and stepped into some grass. Rather than normal grass I was expecting, it was 18-inch high grass, so I fell forward. We all laughed at my general clutziness and I thought no more of it. That night when I took my pants off I realized for the first time that I actually had a decent-sized gash on my upper shin, so I dressed and covered it. It didn’t hurt and I didn’t think about it much, other than when people would respond with shock to the size of the gash. Then about a week later the bruise (already about 6 inches in diameter) started to spread. It spread around the back of my calf and down into my ankle and heel. This bruise not only spread, but quickly turned a dark blue, almost black. When I showed the PCMO she just shook her head at me, looked at my leg and shook her head, looked back at me and shook her head, then sent me to get my leg x-rayed. The good news is that I have still never broken a single bone in my life and the bruising is starting to fade into a nice green!

08/11/12

Today Kyla (the new Malaria Activities Coordinator for PC/Mozambique, ie my replacement) and I had a session with Moz 18 for their reconnect conference. They were the group in training during the (American) summer and are now reconvening after having been at site as PCVs for three months. We did a review of malaria/HIV co-infection and Malaria in Pregnancy, two topics I taught them during their Pre-Service Training, but they probably needed to brush up on. Then in the afternoon we wanted to give them a more practical lesson, so Kyla led a session on creating radio spots. This is something that PCVs in many Stomping Out Malaria in Africa countries have done with their organizations or youth groups and we would love to see more of here. After an introduction to the program, they divided into groups and created spots of their own, which was great practice for them and a lot of fun.

I was also busy the last two days running back and forth between the Peace Corps office and two clinics getting leg and chest x-rays and throat swabs. Still no results yet, but I’ll update when I have them.

I had two more interview tonight. The internet at the Peace Corps office wasn’t very consistent, so I went to the home where I was staying, since theirs is stronger/faster. But it was still out from the night before, so I literally had to run back to the Peace Corps office through the rain. Being a PCV has one benefit in times like this—people almost expect you to look wet and frazzled. During my first interview the internet kept cutting out constantly. My interviewer apologized repeatedly, but I assured her that the problem was on my end and apologized profusely too. For my second interview, the internet actually worked the entire time! There were a few moments the video froze, but it was a huge improvement over the first one.
This week about 10 PCVs from Moz 15 (the group behind me, who I have been with in Mozambique for two years now) finished their service, so I had to say a lot more goodbyes to good friends yesterday and today.

07/11/12

Last night I went into town to stay at Erin’s house for the elections, then I was going to leave on the first bus the next morning for Maputo. There are four Peace Corps Trainees in Inharrime right now doing their site visits with Erin and Jasmin, so we had 7 of us Americans together for the night, which was fun.

Site visit comes in week 5 or 6 of the 10-week training and is designed to give trainees a better understanding of what life as a PCV is actually like. It’s also extremely good for mental health—it’s about the time when trainees start to check out of training sessions, when they are frustrated by having their hands clenched every moment by Peace Corps and their host families, and when they are tired of living every moment of their lives according to their host families’ routines. Site visit is a much-deserved break from all of this, and a reminder that once training is over they will regain some control of their lives. One way this is best-manifested is through food. At this point trainees are sick of the traditional Mozambican dishes (which, for the record, PCVs who don’t live with host families who cook for them everyday miss dearly—these dishes are often just too time-consuming for us to make), the Mozambican amounts of oil and salt used in cooking, and the Mozambican proportions that heavily favor carbohydrates over protein or vegetables. So most site visits include lots of dearly-missed food. Anything from hamburgers ordered in restaurants, to salads (prepared in an “American” style), vegetable stir-fry, hummus, mac and cheese, and pizza.
In this spirit, we made mac and cheese for dinner last night. After chatting for a while we turned on a movie and all took a nap from about 11pm Tuesday night to 1am Wednesday morning (since we are 7 hours ahead of EST here). I had enlisted a few awesome people beforehand, so from about 1am-6am my time my brother and a couple friends were texting me constant updates. We had also bought a bunch of internet credit and were using an internet toggle to stream live from CNN.com on Erin’s computer. When we woke up we made salsa and homemade torilla chips, then as the sun came up at 4:30am we made onion rings. I thought for sure we would have results by the time I had to leave, but at 5:45am crept up (the latest time I had given myself to leave), Obama and Romney were both still in the low 200s. I was frustrated, but if you don’t catch the very first buses heading to Maputo in the morning, the later ones can take much longer. I needed to get to Maputo in time to do some work in the office and prepare for my interview (including shower, because traveling is no walk in the park in Mozambique, and six hours of it can made one just disgusting). As I walked through town past the market Erin called, “They’re calling it for Obama!” “What do you mean? How did they decide that?” She didn’t know much more, but CNN was calling it Obama. Then she called me again, this time as I was almost at the chapa, “it’s official, Obama got the votes—he won!” As she was shouting excitedly and I whooped in response, I saw the bus I wanted passing, so I waved my arm at them and ran over to it. I put in the very front seat next to the driver—definitely the most dangerous seat, but also the most comfortable, so I was pleased with my timing and pleased with this new news! As we left Inharrime and drove south this message was repeated excitedly from my brother and other friends, both at home and in the Peace Corps. Reading a couple of them I exclaimed out loud. Then I turned and excitedly announced to the chapa, “Obama won!! In the USA we had elections today, and Obama won, he is the president!” I was met with many bewildered and sleepy looks. They were probably wondering who this white girl was yelling at them at 6am. The driver was excited though, and he later woke me up for the radio broadcast about it. For the next hour a flurry of texts flew between excited PCVs and PC trainees across Mozambique, sharing the news about the presidential results, and also sharing the good news from so many state-level results. I kept giggling out loud, my only regret was that I had no one with whom to share this awesome feeling of giddy excitement. I turned my ipod on and put my neck pillow on and settled in for a nap before a rather big day. I thought I would be too excited to fall asleep, but I was out within a few seconds, evidently exhausted.

Tonight I had my first business school interview. I was nervous because it was my first interview since I applied to Peace Corps, and possibly the second one of my life. I got online an hour beforehand to double and triple-check everything, to make sure Skype was working and I had accepted the correct chat invitations, to make sure my sound and video were working, to make sure I had counted the time difference correctly, and to otherwise stress out. All appeared to be in order, so I left to go play with the young girls of the family I stay with in Maputo, to take my mind of it and relax for a bit. Then 15 minutes before my interview I returned to my computer—and my heart sank. The internet was out. No, this can’t be happening right now. I checked the other computer and the American landline phone in the house (also through the internet provider) but they were both out. It had started raining between when I checked everything and returned, and this had proved to be just too much. Typical Mozambique. I got out my little Nokia phone to send an email to my interviewer to let her know what was happening. The internet was working with my normal service provider, so I had to switch sim cards and use a different provider to access my email. I sent her an email, then waited nervously. It turns out that my interviewer is an RPCV, so she was extremely sympathetic and completely understood what I was going through. I was able to reschedule my interview, so hopefully the next attempt will go better!

Monday, November 5, 2012

06/11/12

I'm back up in Inharrime, this time to say goodbye
But for now I'm with my girls, so I couldn't be happier 
 
Tonight we will have a slumber party at Erin's house (Jasmin, Erin, and me, plus the four trainees who are also in Inharrime right now for their site visits) so we can be constantly checking the results from the elections. It's a very important day, I'm certainly nervous. I have enlisted a few friends to help already, but anyone who wants--feel free to email me with constant updates throughout the elections!