Classes, Cyclones, and Coco

Where are my students?

So I was hoping to make this week’s blog post about my first classes, but as of the time of this posting I have yet to teach one. Instead, this is the week of apresentacones (introductions) where students meet their class mates, teachers, and find out what turma (class) they are in. As this is a very informal process, many if not most of the students don’t show up, as well as most of the teachers. So while I went to my 3 classes this Tuesday at their scheduled times, I only met two students, out of the 170 that I would have taught that day. I have been looking forward to starting to teach for quite a while, so this was really a wet blanket. After spending over a month as an official PCV in the education project and not having taught a single lesson, it’s easy to feel useless.

But this lack of work may not have been a blessing in disguise, for this past week was not without it’s excitements. First, the SAOR (refer to my previous blog post if you don’t know what that means) was taken to a whole new level as cyclone Funso landed in Mozambique. Now if you’re like me, 

you didn't know that a cyclone is exactly the same thing as a hurricane, but in the Pacific Ocean. This means that from Friday straight through to Monday, rain was falling with energizer bunny consistency while the fierce 125 knot winds which drove the storm blew. The wind got so bad, that for now the second week in a row, part of the wall of my quintal (yard) was pushed over and now makes a much better bamboo boardwalk than a fence. If an invading army were to decide that my house would make a nice prize, this week would be the day to commence the siege, as already two of my four walls are down. Or, if you’re a Mozambican passing by the only foreign teacher's house on your way to school and you want to see what’s going on inside, this week would also be an ideal.

I should have brought a kite

As if the cyclone didn't make things fun enough, my dog Coco also had a few surprises for me. One of the more interesting aspects of my cultural exchange since I got to site has been the relationship between Mozambicans and pets, and more specifically, dogs. Though most families here seem to have at least one chicken, goat, or other farm animal, it is rare to see animals de luxo (pets). Much of this might come from the fact that there is very little value seen in feeding an animal which does not directly help to feed the family. As logical as this might be, I was very excited to get to site, where I was told a dog would be waiting for me. It wasn't until the end of my first week that Coco showed up, but for the past month she has been my dog. I had heard that Mozambicans generally do not like dogs, as they are often aggressive and attack both people and livestock, but thought that since she had been raised and trained by a series of PCV’s and therefore was an American dog, Coco would be exempt from that. This idea was quickly dispelled after only a week of having her when I found out she had bit one of my neighbor’s sons. At that point, I decided that perhaps she just needs some time with me as her owner, and a little bit of discipline, in the form of a long rope keeping her attached to the house. Though this has allowed us to avoid some potentially nasty incidents, like when some of the neighborhood kids were throwing rocks at her and I had to go give them a stern talking to, it has not saved me from trouble by any means. Even attached to the house, she has attacked two of my neighbor’s chickens, killing one, and bit my site mate while he was trying to feed her. Not wanting to sacrifice the goodwill of my neighbors and forfeit any chance of properly integrating into my community, I had decided that she could not stay at the house.

Coco and her pup in their new home, my laundry basket

The night before I was planning to give her away, Coco decided that this was the best time to let me in on a secret she had been keeping: that she was pregnant. This grand reveal was done in the form of  the noise of a whining dog and the worst smell I have ever had the pleasure to experience at 2 AM. Thinking that it was a wild dogs trying to get into the house, I got up from my bed and moved towards the door, but stopped as I noticed that the whining was coming from my feet. There, I found a 8 inch long black, white, and brown newborn puppy with its pink toes and closed eyes. After suppressing the inevitable awwwwws, I realized that this might be the reason for the terrible odor. Turning back to my bed, I found Coco sitting on a smelly wet spot on my sheets looking immensely pleased with herself.

On the plus side, tomorrow I'm making breakfast burritos with guacamole from the newly available avocados. It also might happen to be my site mate Dylan's birthday, but that's defiantly not the reason for the cooking mastery.

PS: I need a name for the puppy.

Only one rule: her name must follow the pattern set by my empregado (house boy) Tojo and dog Coco.