Marshmallows in Mozambique

Scouts with Smores

I’m sitting on a log in a circle of friends around a campfire. We’re all exhausted, but content, cause we spent the day climbing mountains. In my hand is a perfectly cooked, half eaten, s’more, and I can hear others chowing down on the delicious treat. Everyone is chatting, but I’m so tired I can’t pay attention to what anyone is saying. Just as I’m falling asleep, I hear a question: “Professor, como se chama esta coisa branca?” “Marshmallow” “Merchimalao?” “hehe, Marshmallow” “Mashmullew?” “ahaha, Marshmellow!” “Marchmewow?” “hahahaha, nao Euclides, Maaarrrssshhhmmmeeelllooowww” “ahhhh, Mashmilloo." Figuring it’s better he stops before he hurts himself, I nod my head decisively. Then, settling back into the perfect comfort of a bed of grass in front of a warm fire, I fall asleep.

Backup 4 months to the end of my first trimester. Really looking to solidifying my relationships at site before I leave for PCV vacation land, I go over to Juvencio’s house for the first time. After showing my around his sparsely furnished 3 room house, we sit down to chupar cana (suck sugar cane) and chat. Though I don’t remember how we got on the topic, our conversation quickly turns into a gush-fest for scouting. Though the two of us grew up in wildly different locations (Summit, NJ and the Ilha de Mocambique), we both had amazingly similar experiences as scouts. Both of us I had gone on memorable hiking, camping, and canoeing trips. Both of us had learned vital life and survival skills. Both of us had made lifelong friends. Both of us had found wise and judicious mentors. And both of us knew that Alto Molócuè needed its own troop. So as I set off on my trip, I knew what my goal would be for the rest of my service: launching a scout troop.

Scouts after our first hike

Once the second trimester started, we got right down to work. Juvencio and I went through what being a scout in Alto Molocue would mean to us and how it would be tied into the community. We found a female teacher, Silvia, who would work with us to encourage female membership. We pitched my director on the idea, explaining why the school needed another extra-curricular group. We made a list of our favorite students, and sent out invites. And finally, we held our first meeting, which took place around a fire pit that I dug at the back of my house. Over the next 3 months we went on hikes, taught scouting skills, discussed scouting principals, and talked about possible community service projects. All the while, Juv and I were secretly planning our initiation ceremony. Thanks to a very generous grant from the Lena and Alden memorial fund, it was only a matter of putting the pieces together. Mountain? Check. Attendance by other Mozambiquean scouts? Check. Permission from the padres? Check. Uniforms? Check. List of motivated scouts? Check. Signed permission slips from their respective adults. Check? Collected contributions for food? Check. Sooner and easier than I ever thought possible, the weekend I had been looking forward to for the longest time had arrived.

At the mountain with padre Tome a few weeks earlier

Last Thursday I woke up nice and early to go pickup the freshly made scout shirts. From there I went home to pack my bags, grab coco, and hit the trail. Mount Rupe, where we were holding our initiation ceremony, was a good 17km away and we had a lot of prep work to do. After meeting up with Juvencio and the two scouts from Quelimane, Charles and Nadia, we took most of the morning to get to the mountain. There, we sat down to lunch with Padres Andre and Tome to figure out the best way to house, water, feed, and put to work the 14 scouts, 2 leaders, and 1 journalist who would arrive the next day. With a plan in hand, we marched around their extensive property, trying to get a feel for what our scouts would do after they’re equally exhausting 17km hike. Content that the plan wasn’t a guaranteed disaster, we ate a hearty dinner of rice and beans (for the 2^nd of what was to be 6 days in a row) and went to sleep.

Scouts on their way to the mountain

Throughout the night I had terrible, distressing dreams. Kids lying on the side of the rode, incapacitated by dehydration. Swimming merit-badge-less scouts trying to cross a swollen river that has lost it’s bridge. Tired and fed up adolescents giving up and heading back to town without making it up the mountain. Lovingly packed, shipped, transported, and protected marshmallows, graham crackers, and Hershey bars getting attacked by packs of rabid mice. Thankfully, the morning came, and anxious to see the scouts arrive, I walked out of the monastery gates to meet them on the trail. Soon enough, I heard young voices chatting away and yelling “Coco!!” at a happy dog. Once we had gotten all of them inside, rested, and seated, we began our work. First, they would clean out the chicken pens, then the goat pens, and then they would chop wood. But they would neither fry eggs, eat goat, nor burn chopped wood as a result. After lunch, we would then hike up the mountain to where we would lug 33 kg blocks of concrete around. Then we would keep hiking up the mountain to a secrete spot where a secrete event would happen. Needless to say, they were less than exuberant.

Hiking up the mountain with coco

6 hours later, we were on top of said mountain, 

Me and Juvencio in our new uniforms

standing around a nice sized pile of sticks, taking in an amazing view, and getting some final practice in on a very special promise and law. As the sun set, the fire was lit, and our tired students began reciting the words with their hands outstretched towards the fire. Afterwards, each of them received a uniform, with the promise that just as it was provided for them, they would provide a uniform for a new scout next year. Then we celebrated. We danced. We singed. We held a royal rumpus. And as the last flames died away, we marched back down the mountain in great cheer. After patiently waiting for dinner to be ready (rice and beans….), we ate and then made our way to the “fogo de coselho” (reflection fire).

                                Scouts putting on theirs

The day hadn’t gone perfectly. There were a few incidents where scouts had been disrespectful to each other. There were several dirty plates which were left at the lunch spot unclaimed by their owners. And there was a general incertitude about what the scout law and promise were; disappointing after all the time we had spent practicing. So at our fogo de coselho, we discussed these problems, and tried to hammer home the idea that being a scout was both an honor and a responsibility. With everyone a little glum after hearing everything they had done wrong during the day, I knew it was the perfect time to break out the s’mores. Feeling like the fat kid from The Sandlot, I began educating my new scouts on the proper construction of a s’more. “First you take the mallow and you roast it over the fire, not burn, roast. Then you take the chocolate, and put it on the graham. Then, using the graham as your fingers, you pull the mallow off the stick and make your S’more.” S’more making must come naturally to scouts, because not a single one messed up. Not even a single marshmallow as lost to the flames. After successfully completing my most sacred duty, I fell asleep.

Me awkwardly smiling with my improvised kippa

The next morning we cleaned up, ate breakfast and got packed. Being at a monastery, we had planned to stay through Sunday mass. Curious, I had asked Padre Andre if it would be ok if I watched the mass even if I was Jewish. His eyes lit up excitedly “You’re Jewish! I spent 15 years studying in Jerusalem. Can you read Hebrew?” “Sure, but it has been a few years. I might need some practice.” “No problem, we can read the parsha together.” So after running to his room to get his copy of the bible in Hebrew, we stood in the church practicing the 5 lines of Isaiah that were to be today’s text. At 8:30 sharp, the padres rang the bells for mass, which all of the catholic scouts dutifully attended, and we entered the church. After standing and sitting a few times, Andre invited me up to the pulpit, where he handed me a kippa and the Hebrew bible. Nervously, I read Isaiah ____ 4-7a, which concerned itself with _________ and sat down. Andre then read the same portion, but in Portuguese, and began discussing its relationship to scouting. After standing and sitting a few more times, with some joyous clapping interspersed, we exited the doors of the church just as our ride back to Alto Molócuè pulled up at the front gates. Quickly loading everyone in, we said our goodbyes to Padres Andre and Tome, and drove home.

The next day, I received the rest of the care package, which contained another box of graham crackers, package of Hershey’s chocolate, and bag of marshmallows. I look forward to making more s’mores in Mozambique sometime soon.
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UPDATE:
On the day that this post was put up, Alto Molocue was experiencing some very frustrating rolling blackouts. Not knowing when I would next be able to get on the internet, I put up the post in haste, leaving the chapter and topic of the bible passage I read unfilled. Since then, I have confirmed with the padres that I read Isaiah 35, 4-7a which concerns itself with the vengeance of god. Though I'm still not sure what this has to do with scouting, I'm glad I finally know what I read.