Joy, Sorrow, and Remembrance

I realize that it has been a while since I posted a blog update, but between the lack of internet at my site and events that I unfortunately had no control over, I'm finally in front of an internet connected computer. AS a result, this is gonna be a long one.

Though I've always thought that the best place to start a story is the beginning, this one time I'm gonna start in the middle.  This past Tuesday, 4 volunteers from Moz 17 and 1 from Moz 15 were injured during a car accident in Gaza province. Though the details of the event are still unclear, the initial results are not: 2 of our own died of their injuries and 3 had to leave the country, perhaps for good, for medical treatment. As you can imagine, this was a devastating loss that set the tone for the next few weeks. But before this tragic news, things at site were going swimmingly.

I arrived to Alto Molokwe on December 12th, and after unloading my stuff from the car, promptly got to making the house my own. Step 1: get rid of all the useless stuff. 'Helping' me in this endeavor was the empregado (buttler) of my director, Masangu. Though it was nice to have the help, nothing is more stressful than having to manage someone who is helping you clean. Luckily, it was at this moment that my site mate Dylan Yoselick, a health volunteer from Moz 16 (pictured left) showed up and told him that we didn't need his help any more. Being that was in my new hometown, it was high time I learned about my site, and so we took a tour of the town. Immediately upon exiting the house we stumbled upon a chameleon walking across the path and saw him change colors as he moved from the dirt into the grass. We then visited the 2 banks in town, the house of the mayor, the ministry of education, the dowtown, the central market, and his favorite resuraunt "O Ceu Azul" (blue sky) for a grilled chicken. Afterwards, we went back to his house where we hung out the rest of the night.

The next week and a half went equally easy. My director took my on a tour-of-important-people where I met the commander of the police, director of education, and the administrative for the town. I spent the rest of the week cleaning, buying, fixing, sorting, organizing, and just all around nesting to make my 2 bedroom with kitchen and indoor bathroom house feel like home. About midway through the week, a dog with a pink collar showed up at my house, walked right in paying no attention to my attepmts to shoo her away, and took a very comfortable spot on the spare bed. After asking around, I found out that her name is coco (pictured below hiding under my bed during a thunderstorm) and she was the dog of the previous volunteer. Even when Dylan left site for a whole week straight, everything went well. I made friends with a Mozambiquean family that has been friends with each volunteer to pass through Alto, pumped my own water though I was being heckled by the women at the pump for my abysmal technique, and cooked most of my own meals. Things were going well.

That was until I got a text message from another volunteer asking if I had heard anything about a car crash involving some Moz 17ers in Gaza province. I hadn't, but immediately started thinking about who was in Gaza and how this was probably all a big misunderstanding. Then the text came. In very presise and curt language, PC Moz confired my fears: 2 dead, 3 injured. At the time, I was walking to the market with a newfound Mozambiquean friend and had to summon all my strength to keep the conversation going. Finally I made it back home and was able to call my good friends to find out what had happened and how people were being affected by it. Though I hadn't known the two passed volunteers very well, they were friends and the severing of the strong bond formed by being part of the same trainning class was a shock. After a few minutes of panic, sadness, denial, and pensive thought, I had calmmed down  and pushed the issues to the back of my mind in order to get ready for visitors. The nearest Moz17er to me, Stephanie Newton, came to Alto for the holidays as we had been planning, along with my site mate and 2 other health volunteers, and I looked forward to a relaxing few days to process what had happened. But no sooner had she arrived till plans changed again: all the northern Moz17ers needed to get to the beautiful Ilha de Mozambique for a memorial service in 3 days.

So the next day we woke up at 2:30a to ensure we got an good seat on the first chapa out of Alto. Of course, it didn't leave till 5a, but at least we weren't standing. After 4 hours of driving through the beautiful rolling hills and rock outcroppings of eastern Nampula province, we arrived at Nampula city. We promptly got into a local chapa which would take us to the chapa terminal where we could find transport to Ilha. While standing up in the chapa, I felt a hand fishing around my pockets, so I quickly grabbed it and yelled at it's owner "deixa meu bolso sem suas maos" or "leave your hand out of my pocket." I then proceeded to call him a "nindja" which is a slang word for theif, and refused to stand next to him. Needles to say, I felt pretty proud of myself. Eventually arriving in Ilha by crossing the very long one way bridge onto the island, was a welcome respite from the crowded and hot chapa.

Formely the seat of the Portugese's northern colonial administration, Ilha de Mozambqiue is covered in surprisingly well preserved colonial era buildings and features crystal clear water in 360 degrees, an old fort used to protect the island against pirates, sevreal mosques serving the predominately Mulsim population, and the most important ingredient of any tourist town: cheese! As the other volunteers arrived, we greeted each other with warm embraces and heartfelt "how are you doing"s. Though we had only seen eachother a few weeks ago, our world had been turned upside down and everyone was just happy to be together. A few days latter, we all gathered together on a secluded beach for a lovely memorial service to our two dear friends Elizabeth Alden Landis and Lena Anne Jenison. They will be sorely missed.

For me, it wasn't until after the memorial service that I actually began to grapple with the reality that these town beautiful, intelligent, vibrant women would never be joining us again. This caused the wave of emotions which I had been holding back for several days to come crashing down right as my delicious lobster gnocchi arrived at the table. Luckily my friends and I were all in the same place, and after dinner I walked and talked with one for a while, which calmed me down.

Though we have left the Ilha, the time of remembrance isn't over. Today we found out that all of the Moz17ers (45 at this point) are being brought together in Maputo early in the new year for a joint memorial service. Till then, we will continue or preparation work at site and our own personal healing work.

EAL & LAJ

Wish you were here

The End of the Beginning

Meet the newest group fully fledged Peace Corps volunteers, Moz 17

After starting out with 53 acceptee's then 51 trainees, we have arrived at an even 50 volunteers. Yesterday was the last day of the last week of our training, and what a week it has been.

The beginning of the beginning of the end was the Feista de Familias last Saturday where all of the trainees and host families gathered at a local gazebo/empty pool/ soccer field/ cell phone tower area for an afternoon of speeches, songs, dances, food, drinks, cake, and partay! We even sang a song called "Tudo Bom Pra Nos" which was written, and accompanied on the Ukulele, by trainee Sean. It was a great and fun way to celebrate the time spent with and thank our host families.

Next was the final test of training, known as the LPI, which determines how well prepared we are for going to site. There were two parts: the language proficiency section and round robin. For language, we conducted a 20 min conversation with one of the language professors all in Portuguese. Based off of this, we were given a rating from basic/low to advanced/high, with an intermediate/high being the benchmark for going to site. Afterwards, the round robin was conducted as a series of questions from various PC staff members about health, safety, culture, education, and peace corps policies. Though it doesn't seem like there are any real consequences to a poor score, I wanted to do well for my own personal satisfaction.

On Tuesday was the last and final hub day, mostly involving packing and travel plans. Since most of us won't be able to see each other for the holidays, we had decided to end the day in a festive spirit. After a secret Santa gift swap, in which I got the sweet Turkey corral t-shrit from Jill (PHOTO), a few of us went to one of the Peace Corps buildings in town to do a little Hanukah celebration. Being that there are 5 actual jews, and several more honorary jews, making latkes was a must. Luckily, this delectable and fried jewish food requires 4 of the most common ingredients ever: potatoes, onions, oil, and eggs. So we went to a host mother's road side stand and bought all of the items, making it a convenient one stop latke shop (try saying that 3 times fast.

Wednesday we went to the Peace Corps office in Maputo so we could meet the staff, fill out more paperwork, and discuss plans for the swearing in ceremony. Though those were all important steps, the real reason we were all there was the subject of my favorite Mary Kate & Ashley movie song: pizza! I'm kicking myself for not taking a picture of the mound of boxes that was left behind after our group swarmed like locust over the surprisingly good pies, because we gorged ourselves.

This finally brings us to Thursday where my time as a PCV actually began with a swearing in ceremony at the Ambassador's house. After singing both the American and Mozambiquean national anthem, speeches by the Ambassador, Peace Corps director, head of the Ministry of Education, and our own PCV Mike, we took the Peace Corps oath. Little did I know that the oath that a PCV takes is the same as the President, so I have also sworn to "protect the Constitution from all enemy's foreign and domestic." Though it's cool that I swear to the same oath as the arguably most powerful person in the world, I'm not sure that it really applies to what the Peace Corps stands for. After we were sworn in, we snacked on tons of delicious finger food and mingled with the various dignitaries that had attended the ceremony. All and all, a fantastic end to the beginning.

After one final night together in Maputo, Moz 17 split up to go to our various parts of the country. Myself and 20 or so other volunteers are now up north in Nampula meeting with out supervisors and taking advantage of some fantastically fast internet before we head to site. Come Monday, I'll be in my new home for the next 2 years, Alto Molocue.

Ate logo ao sul, hole ao norte!

Ciencia, Matematica, Lingua Inglesa

Corpo da Paz, Corpo da Paz

Mocambique, tanta beleza

Corpo da Paz, Corpo da Paz

Maputo, Nampula, Gaza, Sofala

Corpo da Paz, Corpo da Paz

Exellentes amigos para todo a vida

Corpo da Paz, Corpo da Paz

Tudo bom, tudo bom, pra nos

Tudo bom, tudo bom, pra nos

Xima, Matapa, Coco, e Manga

Mocambique, Mocambique

Preta, 2M, Clara, Manica

Mocambique, Mocambique

Pria e bosque, cascadas e rios

Mocambique, Mocambique

Elefantes, peixes, giraffes, macacos

Mocambique, Mocambique

Tudo bom, tudo bom, pra nos

Tudo bom, tudo bom, pra nos

Tudo bom, tudo bom, pra nos

Tudo bom, tudo bom, pra nos

Tudo Bom Pra Nos, Moz 17 (Sean Croft)

The JLP PCTPLTDD

Pop quiz: what do the following questions have in common?

Do bears shit in the woods?

What rock band plays the song with the sickest base line of all time?

What was the first word of the Obama campaign’s rallying cry?

Is Thanksgivings Sam’s favorite holiday?

If you said that they all have the same answer, your right! Pat yourself on the back. Ok stop patting, it was an easy quiz. Yes, bears shit in the woods. Yes plays the song with the sickest base line of all time, aka Roundabout. “Yes We Can!” was the rallying cry for the Obama presidential campaign. And yes, I love Thanksgivings. No other holiday combines large quantities of delicious food, the broadest possible inclusivity (you’re thankful for something), and awesome hand shaped decorations to the same level of effectiveness. That is just a plain fact. So when I found out, almost 7 months ago that I was heading to the far side of the world for my Peace Corps service, my mind went immediately to thanksgiving. Having never spent a T-day away from home, I wanted to be sure that whatever was done to replace it would meet my exceptionally high standards.

It was during my site visit in Macia that I began the serious planning. In between talking about the awesome 70 year old female education volunteer from Moz 15 and our experiences killing chickens, the conversation turned to Turkey. Not just any turkey, but the delicious bakery oven cooked turkeys that Moz 15 had for their Namaacha thanksgivings day party. This got the gears turning and come the next hub day I had taken it upon myself to purchase, kill, clean, season, cook, and deliver the birds for our Peace Corps Trainee Pot Luck Thanksgivings Day Dinner (PCTPLTDD for short).

The first thing you need to know about killing a turkey in Mozambique is that it’s not called turkey. Though it’s still named after an exotic and distant land, it can no longer be called the Istanbul Bird. No, turkeys are known as perus in Portuguese, for reasons which I imagine are quite similar to why we call them Turkeys. The second thing you need to know is that in order to kill a turkey, you should get it drunk.  Say should because we didn’t and paid the price because, as we found out, Turkeys are fast, Turkeys are small, and Turkeys are agile. So instead of just grabbing the neck of a sleeping bird, we had to chase the two chosen perus around the yard of the Casa des Dois (CdD) compound, grab them by the legs and wings, and pin them down against a brick. Then, with knife in hand, I had the most authentic start to Thanksgivings I’ve ever had. Just like the pilgrims (JLP), we caught, killed, and cooked our dinner without a mechanical separator or refrigerated supermarket in between, though the lack of buckles on our hats was unfortunate.

Rosa and Clancy were then de-feathered, gutted, and cleaned by the CdD staff, after which we stuck them in an Italian seasoning brine till T-day. After 3 days, I retrieved them for cooking, but found out that the CdD’s version of an oven is really a 3000 Watt microwave, not exactly a JLP device. Plan B was the who-knows-how-many-degrees-but-its-definitely-hot bakery oven owned by one of the trainee’s host-father. So we stuck the birds (2 turkeys and 4 beer chickens at this point) in alongside someone else’s roast pig, and waited. Come time for the PCTPLTDD, the birds were loaded into a Peace Corps car and driven to the Peace Corps house in town where we were having our party.

To say that there was a lot of food would be an understatement. Though I had done my best to ensure that no one went hungry (the pot luck instructions were to cook for 10), there was no way I could have expected the quantity of food that 50 trainees and several volunteers would bring together. Besides the birds which I had personally attended to, there were 3 types of mashed potatoes, 4 different salads, a couple different casseroles, breads, 120 fish samosas, several types of salsa, hummus, donuts, a wide variety of pies, brownies, fudge, sweet potatoes, and one exceedingly delicious apple crisp. Upon seeing all this food, I went through the 4 stages of a Thanksgiving mental breakdown in quick succession: excitement, indecision, fear, and acceptance. First, you’re excited to begin chowing down on all the delectable treats that have been brought in front of you. Then you freeze, realizing that you don’t know where to start or how to organize your plate(s). This brings on a fear that no matter how carefully you dole out only a small amount of each dish, you will never be able to try every item on the table. Finally, you accept that this is thanksgiving and that all you can do is to eat as much as possible, then a little bit more, without throwing up. Needless to say, the JLP PCTPLTDD was a wonderful party and I walked home with my empty turkey pans, full stomach, and a very comfortable buzz.

Hope you all had an equally great thanksgiving!

Food, glorious food,

What wouldn't we give for

That extra bit more,

That's all that we live for

Why should we be fated,

To do nothing but brude,

Oh food, magical, food, wonderful, food, marvellous, food,

Fabulous, food, beautiful, food, glorious food! 

Oliver, The Musical

I’m Going to Alto Molokwe (or Alto Molocue if you prefer)

(Note: sorry for the weird formatting but blogger was giving me problems and this is the only way the text would show)

Last Wednesday was a big day for Moz 17: Site Placements!

After an excruciatingly long Hub day where we all came together to attend classes/lectures on Mozambiquean birth, initiation, marriage, and death rituals, the legal environment in Mozambique, and the dangers of landmines + cyclones (quite a fearsome combination), we gathered in the gym of the Instituto a Formacao des Professores for the site placement ceremony. 

Standing around the outside edge of the basketball court, upon which a giant map of Mozambique had been drawn in yellow, black, and white chalk, each trainee was given a white, full paged envelope with our name written on it. Once everyone had their envelope in hand, and we had all read the letter from the Peace Corps staff discussing how the selections were made, we tore open the envelopes and began reading the contents.

Inside was a list of trainees and where they were heading, as well as a map of each of our regions of the country with our site location highlighted. It was at this moment that I found out that the next two years of my life will be spent in Alto Molokwe in Zambezia Province. Zambezia is in northern part of the country and is considered the breadbasket of Mozambique, yet Alto Molokwe is in the mountainous region of the province. Seasonal monsoons bring a large amount of rain which provides for fertile soil, but also increased rates of Malaria. Alto Molokwe is a transit town between the regional capitals of Quelimane and Nampula, and therefore has all manner of vegetables, grains, consumer goods, and raw materials available. This also means that there are frequently South African tourists in town, so my status as a volunteer might not be as well-known as it would be in other towns. The Escola Secundaria de Alto Molokwe, where I will be teaching either French and/or Physics, is very close to where I will be living but also very close to the town’s holding cells. It is also quite large, based off the fact that turmas (a class of between 50 and 100 students) are each assigned a letter, and at ESAM they run into the double letter. 

My site placement letter, map, and Moz 17 list

Though some trainnees received information about their site in their placement packet, I did not get more than a location and an assignment. Luckily, I was able to quickly get in contact with Chris, a Moz 15 education volunteer who I will be living with, and Dylan, a Moz 16 health volunteer who lives about 5 min away. Having them there as a source of knowledge and support will be extremely helpful and I look forward to getting to know them. Luckily, Moz 17 has a large number of volunteers heading north to Nampula, Cabo Delgado, and Niassa, so I should be able to see many of my friends from training on a regular basis.

In honor of this important moment in my Peace Corps career, I have written a piece, in the style of my fourth grade mother’s day poem from which I’m quite sure comes my affinity for acronyms (ie S.A.M.T.E.C.H.), describing my feelings at this moment.

	Although I’ve been
	Living in Mozambique for 7 weeks
	The “real peace corps” experience,
	Or whatever you’d like to call it,
	Mandates an integration that includes losing
	Oneself within another culture.
	Likening the past few weeks to being lost is like saying that eating
	Oreos in Times Square is to have
	Knowledge of American life.
	While I’m going to miss training, I’m excited to begin what I came here to do,
	Education.

Hope you enjoyed reading that as much as I enjoyed writing that.

Another highlight of this week was my first bout of travelers sickness, aka diarrhea. I think the culprit was a questionable padjia (fried bean patty) that I ate at 9 on Saturday night, or maybe it was the fish samosa that I had at 3 that day, or the piece of bread the day before, or.... well you get the idea. The result was all the same, 36 hours of stomach pains and bathroom dashes followed by sips of rehydration salts infused water all with the background noise of "The West Wing" episodes. Luckily, it passed in a day and a half, and I didn't have to miss any of the lessons I am teaching at model school this week, more on that latter. So the lesson learned here wasn't to be more careful about what I eat, cause that would have lasted until the delicious fish samosas I just devoured, but that you should always have some un-watched episodes of a good TV show on hand and several of your favorite movies ready to go for the day that nature calls.

So I'm packing my bags for the Misty Mountains
where the spirits go now,
over the hills where the spirits fly.
I really don't know.

Led Zepplin- Misty Mountain Hop

Going to Mabalane

Last week, for the first time since we arrived in Mozambique, Moz 17 was let loose on the country. For 5 days we travelled in groups of 2 or more around various regions of this vast land without schedules, chaperons, or drivers. Much to my enjoyment, all we had from the Peace Corps was a name, phone number, and location for the volunteer we were to visit and a nice chuck of change to get us there. What ensued were 5 days of chapa rides, hitchhiking on pickup trucks, sleeping on various surfaces, eating a wide variety of selfcooked and restaurant meals,  visiting several schools, and in general learning a bit more about Mozambique.

Myself and another trainee name Nick aimed to visit James, an education volunteer just finishing his first year, north of Maputo (really the only choice) in Gaza province. Though I have no clue why it happens to have the same name as the conflict ridden zone on the Mediterranean sea, I can promise you that it is nothing like it. To start our trip out, we caught a ride in a Peace Corps car out of Namachaa to Maputo with several other trainnees. Upon arrival at the Peace Corps Office, we met up with a few volunteers from the Maputo area who led us to a fantastic fish market (sorry no pictures) where we ate lunch. After that we jumped onto a chapa and headed to Macia. A chapa, for those who do not know, is kind of like the 15 passenger vans that you may have used for club sports or camp, except smaller, and with 18 people. Since they are the most common method of transportation in Mozambique, we were briefed on what to expect and dealt with it quite well. After 3 hours in the back of the bus, we all hoped off and made the short walk to Mark and Peggy’s house, the volunteers on whos couches we’d be spending the night.

The next morning came with a bright and early visit of the school, devoid of students since it was a Saturday. Built by the Poirtugese government only a year earlier, the 7Macia secondary school is, for lack of a better word, perfect. Clean, equipped, and enclosed classrooms are surrounded by athletic facilities, water collection systems, a library, and other educational amenities. AS Mark said, his site wasn’t the Peace Corps, but the Posh Corps. Later in the morning, James, the volunteer who Nick and I were visitng, met up with us and we hoped in another chapa for Chokwe. We arrived in the bustling farming town after a few hours and quickly caught a break with a boleia (hitchhike) on the back of an empty charcoal truck. This is by far the best way to get anywhere. Spacious, cool, and cheap, it gets you where you need to go in the most varied way possible. The advantage of a pickup truck is that you can take the shelter behind the cab if you’re getting cold, or you can ride standing up with the wind blowing in your face and the view unfolding before you, as I did.

3 hours later we arrived in Mabalane, a pretty dry and matu (bush) site. James lives at a house right next to the school, so we hiked over and unpacked, while cooking dinner for the next few hours. Being it had been an exhausting day of travelling, sleep was in order and we all retired to our respective beds (mine being a few grass mats stacked on top of each other on the floor). For the next 3 days we visited the town and surrounding area which includes a train station, market, secondary school, primary school, health clinic, prison (anchor point for the town), and a couple barracas. In the down time, and when James had to proctor exams, we played chess, read, and worked out. From this aspect the visit was very similar to what I've heard Peace Corps life is like, in that you have a lot of free time and become very good at amusing yourself without TV or the internet. This is definitely something I am looking forward to as I have a huge mental list of classics I need to read and can always get in better shape.

After a few days of visiting Mabalane, it was about time to start the journey back towards Namachaa. Again we had amazing boleia karma and caught a ride in the back of a skynet delivery truck as soon as we were ready to leave town. After a hour on the very rough roads out of Mabalane, we ran into a Land Cruiser which seemed to be having some problems. Due to reasons that were not yet apparent, the driver had blown out a tire and was looking for a little help to get back on the road. Being the good guys that we are, Nick and I assisted in changing the tire with no thoughts to our own desires. It was never on pour mind that this lovely car had air conditioning, comfortable seats, and 6 cylinder 4 wheel drive engine with amazing suspension. As a result, it came as a great surprise to us that he would offer us a ride to Chokwe after the tire was changed. Let this be a cautionary tale: if a driver has blown out a tire, it’s probably not the Michelin Man’s fault. The next 20 min were some of the scariest moments of my life. Rolling at 90 kph down rocky dirt roads in a car driven by a beer drinking Mozambiquean is not at all comfortable. Sure we did in 20 min what would have normally taken 2 hours, but I would never do it again. Arriving in Chokwe was accompanied with one great sigh of relief. That night we slept at the lovely house of Valerie and Clancy, two PCV’s finishing up their second years and getting ready to go home.

On the last day of our trip, we took a chapa back to Maputo (3 hours), then went to buy western delicacies at a supermarket (1 hour) ate thai food (2 hours, yummy!) then got another chapa back to Namachaa (a very hot 2 hours). Dirty, exhausted, and a little sick, I made it back to my fantastic host family and took a great nap. Travel is fun, but in Mozambique, it really takes it out of you.

Sorry, no music quote

I ran out of battery while I wrote,

I hope the poem will satisfy you

Unitl I get a clue

Perma-gardening aka Moz 17 Gets Dirty

One of the events of training I was most looking forward to was the perma-gardening. Having never had a garden growing up, nor the space to have one at school, gardening was a skill I lacked. In a similar vein to how I took pride I having killed, gutted, and cleaned a chicken myself, growing my own vegetables seemed very appealing. Luck for me that the only organized project we did during training was to setup a highly efficient and systematic mini-farm.

Perma-gardening is taught to PCT’s (Peace Corps Trainees) as a unit in our extensive HIV/AIDS education. Since proper nutrition is an important, controllable, and relatively cheap component of the treatment of HIV/AIDS, it is a high priority for PCV’s. Once at site, volunteers have few resources and only what support they van get from the community, so we’re always on the lookout for low hanging fruit. By developing a way to maximize the nutritional content yields from a small parcel of land (most perma-gardens are no larger than 100m^2), Peace Corps is giving volunteers a very simple yet effective tool for promoting community development and health.

After a quick training session on Friday covering the basics about perma-gardens, myself and the 15 other PCT’s met early on Saturday and Sunday mornings to do the actual work. Though I won’t go into all the details, perma-gardening has 5 main components: composting, water management, soil preparation, planting diverse crops, and maintenance. As anyone in my family can tell you, I have always loved to build sandcastles, so the water management segment was more fun than work for me. The idea is, using the natural tendencies of rain water, to accomplish the 4 S’s of water management: stop, slow, spread, and sink (very different from the 5’s of organization I learned in IE).

• Stop: Using berms that surround the outside of the garden, block the natural downward path of water so that during rainstorms your fertile topsoil isn’t washed away
• Slow: Dig collection pools so that where water does flow in, it does so at a slow pace; further protecting the soil and storing some water for latter
• Spread: By placing ditches between  all the vegetable beds and ensuring that they are downhill from the collection pools, water can flow and enter every area of the garden
• Sink: Using a technique known as double digging, soil is opened up and aerated to a relatively deep level for a garden, allowing more water to be absorbed and more nutrients to be cycled.

Though this technique can require a lot of work to set up a garden, the yields are 2 to 3 times better than just simply planting crops. In addition, the variety of food stuffs produced (our garden has tomatoes, corn, lemon grass, sweet potatoes, bananas, and lettuce) adds a lot to the average Mozambican diet of xima (grits) and amendoin (peanuts).Having now learned a very efficient (woooo efficiency) and effective way to setup a garden, I’m sure I’ll put all those seeds in my Maputo bag to good use. Also, after seeing the camaraderie and cooperation that developed in my group through the work we had to complete (on a 34C/100F day), it became obvious why these types of community projects are such an important part of most volunteers Peace Corps service.

Glad you made it

Welcome to the farm

Who’s your daddy?

I’m your daddy now

I’m here seeking only what I need

In your mind I’ll plant my seed

It’s for sure

Guster- Airport Song

Meet My Dinner

It seems to be a generally accepted concept that the more time and raw ingredients put into a dish, the better it is. Pizza? Penguin Pizza might be delicious and Digorno sure is convenient, but what could be better than hand-made dough covered with your own choosing of sauces, cheeses, and toppings. Salad Dressing? Paul Newman has his talents, but bring together olive oil, red-wine vinegar, herb du province, Dijon mustard, salt, and pepper (Dad: did I miss anything?) and you’ve just showed that movie star who’s boss. Grilled Chicken? Might as well start with a live chicken!

Dinner, meet the world. World meet my dinner. Thursday night I was greeted home by these 3 balls of feathers which were to promptly become my meal. Though I had been prepared for this eventuality by my some of my fellow volunteers in training, it was still very surprising to be faced with the animals themselves. I’ve never killed an animal before, so I expected it to be difficult to reconcile emotionally. But instead of feeling sympathy, pitty, or anger, I only felt….purpose. These weren’t wild animals with families that they had to feed.  Nor were they house pets which had been loved and cared for. These were chickens which had been born, feed, housed, and delivered solely for the moment where they would be converted from galinha (chicken) to frango (poultry). Without that eventuality, they would have never existed in the first place. So as I ended their admittedly short lives with a few strokes of my knife, I was looking forward to reaping the rewards of my work and not worrying about the karmic response to my actions.

Yes, the conversion from galinha to frango was messy. Yes, de-feathering the birds took a long time. Yes, removing the innards was incredibly disgusting. Yes, cooking them over an indoor coal fire made my eyes water. Yes, it took a full two bucket baths to really get rid of the smell. But yes, it was totally worth it. Just like eating cookies that you've labored over, it always tastes better when you make it yourself.

Moma’s home made from scratch

Well not quite

Toasted over flames

They be tastin quite right

Gorillaz -Superfast Jellyfish

My Mozambiquan Family

All in all, it’s been a great first week in Mozambique (yay it rhymes!) There is nothing that makes adapting to a new culture easier than being with family. This is something I witnessed while I was in China, and wished that I had had the whole time. So when I found out that the Peace Corps has you live with a Mozambuiqean family, I was super excitied. Not only would I be able to practice my newly forming portugese skills and learn about another culture through their eyes, I would have a new family to do it with.

Driving to the trainning facility in Namacha, where our host families are, I was filled with questions about who I would be living with for the next few weeks. How big a family will I have? Will I be their first volunteer? Will there be any english speakrs in the house? What will the living conditions be like? Will I be close to the other volunteers? The answers were found among the wonderful Ngovene family that I ended up with. It includes minha prima Lina, mama Laura, e mi Irma Cecilia. Lina is 14 years old and is quiet and incredibly helpful. Cecilia is a talkative and intelligent 17 year old, also a huge MJ fan. Mama is loving and knowledgeable about her culture, but understanding in my foreign ways. We talk, charade, eat, play, and watch TV together; leagues better than coming back to an empty and lonely room. Though our conversation is limited for now, we have still been able to cover such diverse topics as minha Irma’s chemistry  test to how my dreams have getting crazier since I started taking the mefloquine anti-malarials. Hopefully, as my vocabulary gets better, these conversations will move faster than the speed of my dictionary searching.

Towards that effort, I have about 30 hours of Portuguese lessons a week with other Peace Corps volunteers, which has been helping a ton. Just the fact that someone tells me when my spangesse is wrong has been a huge help. Also we’re learning a ton of new vocabulary for Mozambiquan Portuguese, such as Nindja for theif and Txilar for chilling out. Besides the language classes, we’ve also been having classes on history, education, and health, though I hope the teaching classes start soon because have no clue what I’m doing in a classroom. But I imagine I’ll learn what I need to when I need to, as Peace Corps Mozambique is run surprisingly well.

Welcome to Maputo!

Welcome to Maputo!

Mozambique 17

Myself, and the 50 other education volunteers that are a part of Mozambique 17, arrived yesterday to this amazing country. Surprisingly, the first people we saw when exiting the airport were not Mozambicans, but the Chinese construction workers building the new terminal for the airport (figures). After a furious and overwhelming drive through several neighborhoods of Maputo, we arrived at the very swanky Hotel Cardossa where we are staying till we leave for the training facility in Namachaa on Saturday.



Till then, we have been enjoying the many

Hotel Gardens- que bonita

 amenities of the hotel, as surreal as they may seem. For a group of  people who signed up for a minimalist livelihood, its a little uncomfortable to be having doors opened by hotel employees and meals served as a giant buffet. On top of that, we're prohibited from leaving the hotel because of our lack of cultural experience. As far as introductions to a country, this is as close to dipping a toe in as possible.

Our day today was filled with 12 hours of information meetings that gave brief, but important, descriptions of training, home stay policies, medical kits, safety and security issues, water filtration, and administrative policies. We also got to meet with Ambassador Rowe for a talk about her priorities for the region (women's education, sexual education, american business investment). The funniest part of the day was when one of the Peace Corps Trainers described how some of our host mothers might try to bathe us, as they've been instructed to treat us like children. I quickly learned the phrase "Eu posso me banho" (I can bathe myself). All in all, it's been a mentally exhausting day, setting a high bar for the next 10 weeks of training.

I'm looking forward to leaving this air-conditioned cage and meeting my Mozambican family tomorrow, cause it's about time for this to get real!

Oh, oh, oh I wanna be free-yeah, to feel the way I feel

Man! I feel like a woman!

(song played in the hotel lobby while this post was written)

Mo-Sam-bique

So in case you don't know, on September 28th I'm going to the bique to visit my bros from Moz for 27 months of Peace Corps service. The idea is that I'm supposed to be a secondary math teacher, but considering how things are always in flux, that might change.

What might also change is my reasons for going there. Though they have been evolving and revolving since the moment I decided to join the Peace Corps over a year and a half ago, the foundations have remained the same: The Program, Their Life, and My Growth.

The Program: Since I've heard about the Peace Corps, it has seemed like one of the best programs our government runs. Sending some of our best and brightest young citizens abroad to do volunteer work, learn about foreign cultures, and teach host country nationals about what Americans are really like is as important for our nation's political discourse, growth, and safety as any other government program. To be one of these chosen few is a true honor and I hope to live up to the expectations I have set for myself.

Their Life: Growing up in an affluent suburb of New York City, attending a top flight high school and university, and having to worry about mostly first-world problems is a privileged life. But it makes it easy to forget how difficult life in the rest of the world can be. So in order to truly appreciate where I come from and properly orient myself for where I want to go, its important for me to see the world as it truly is.

My Growth: Being one of the lucky few who have grown up in a multi-cultural home and had the opportunity to travel the world, much of my education has been done while living out of a suitcase. By throwing myself into a completely unfamiliar environment with unknown challenges, I will be able to build on my strengths, understand my weaknesses, figure out what really matters to me.


Right now I'm ready to leave and I'm woefully under-prepared, I'm motivated to make a difference and I'm discouraged that it won't really matter, I look forward to all the upcoming adventures and I'm cautious because the cost of a mistake will be much higher, I'm confident in the decisions that led me here and I wonder what the hell I'm thinking. 


I'm excited about everything being new and scared about having to relearn all I know

A man walks down the street

It's a street in a strange world

Maybe it's the third world

Maybe it's his first time around