who wants some meat

Feb 5 / 10 : The other night as the girls practiced their songs for the church and visitors that are coming next Saturday. I watched the stars and thought about what an amazing experience this has been so far and how I know that when I’m back in The Peg I will be laying on my bed reflecting of these moments. I was at the back of the group dancing and singing, a poor imitation of what I thought they were doing…then suddenly… everyone cleared out. It was like some invisible force pushed every person outwards…it was a snake! Some one was dancing and pegged it and felt it squirming underfoot. We killed and buried it, and although this was not a black or yellow mamba (I have seen both in Machanga), it was a small but deadly one.

Sure, rain makes things come to life, we are all celebrating. But now when night comes > so do the bugs. I am not rooting for the famine to thrive, but without the mosquitoes it was so pleasant to sit under the stars as the ground gave its last breath of heat back to the sky. Not that we cant still enjoy the stars, we just have to do a little dance hence the insects.
On the same note, some people really can sleep with that cricket song in the foreground, but when there are 3 crickets in your cement room, the high-pitched chirp bounces on the walls and tin roof, it sounds like your in the bog with the thousands.

Along with teaching these rural girls English (and Portuguese for those that can’t speak yet), I am teaching them simple manors from the West such as: saying ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ and how it is appropriate for a man to open the door for a woman and go in after her. They too have their own standard of manners and gestures that are unconsciously followed. When handing something or taking something from someone else you MUST take / give with your right hand, and bend your left arm under your right elbow. It is a position of respect as well as showing you are not hiding anything. Woman, no matter how old, will sit on the floor before a man, even if it was a young man and an ancient grandmother-type woman. When showing the measurement of a person you raise your hand palm-up to the high of that person, when it’s an animal you show the height palm-down. Talking about someone who steals or takes off with things is a swoop of your right hand at the right side, a gesture of taking and concealing. When smelling something fowl, or seeing feces on the ground one spits in disgust. Do not smell / sniff food, either to see if it smells good/ bad/ ripe/ rotten, it is a sign of disrespect and disgust. When offered food or refrescos (cokes and fantas) its rude to deny this polite gesture (I have been caught in days where everyone wants to be nice to the Muzungu and had to drink 3 fantas> after that I decided to just be rude and refused further offers). Before starting any conversation, business or simple chat, you must start with the simple questions of how they slept, how the family is etc, and then go on to business.

There is a certain time frame one is allowed to leave a scene or conversation. I am still trying to figure this one out. After the words “Ndu pinda” (I’m going) are spoken, I find I still am sitting on the bamboo matt for another 30 mins before me and the person I came with actually leave the scene. I once got up immediately after it was announced we were going, and they all made an embarrassed little gasp on my behalf. I still don't really know what I did wrong, but sat down and had to wait for the cue of the Tia I was with.


Feb 8th / 10: Today has been exactly half a year from home, and today I was hit the hardest with the sight of poverty yet. Tia Cacilda and I got in the local Machanga chapa to go to the church in Dondo 9 kms away. There are a certain number of people that open-back truck-chapas wait for. I’m not sure what that number is, but after long waits I wish that number were much less so we could get on the move. The chapa, when it eventually decided to start (push started of course), went backwards to the hospital. A couple men carried the frailest person I have ever seen. Her feet dragged on the ground with no will and no energy to lift the little mass that she was. The lack of proper transportation meant she had to be hulled in the open-back of the sun-baked truck with others and cargo of others surrounding her almost lifeless body. As she was maneuvered onto the truck bottom and a woman’s lap, people compassionately helped arrange the skin and bones of a body among other bags of rice and mangos. I felt sick to the stomach and the largest knot in my throat seeing this woman who looked ancient beyond all days. In reality she was probably younger then 55. A woman behind her also transported from the hospital had skin that hung like wet rice paper and wrinkled in every direction when in contact with another object. Her face was of oblivion and hurt. Eyes saying she has seen everything but knows nothing. I have seen poverty over these 6 months but have perhaps just let it slide by, but this one was quiet powerful.
Medical information is so very limited, as well as medical supplies. For a high malaria concentrated area, the hospital doesn't carry this. Not even simple IB-PROFIN. I gave a small medical teaching about worms, parasites, headaches, sexually transmitted diseases and what certain drugs were for etc. A lot of illnesses and aches are assumed to be curses, or works of the corenderos (witchdoctors). Tia was amazed that us Mazungus (whites) have problems with birth when we inter-marry (e.g. Sister and brother or cousins), and thought that it was just blacks that had a curse on them. Still much to learn, much to teach.


Feb 12 / 10: Hmmmm, another queasy moment. I was able to kill that chicken back in November with some nervousness and three hits of a machete > done and done. Good work. But today… I could not muster up enough guts to spill the guts > of a full-grown goat. Nope. I did take a graphic film of the local who did the deed and during the taking had to turn my head away from the show. Little kids who were used to the festivities laughed at my reactions as the maestro continued his business of tying the slit-throat body up side down to a tree and strategically skinning it. Perhaps it resembles a dog too much…. One must remember this is still the same Alexis who cried an afternoon when her gold fish floated to the top of the tank and over a day when her first hamster escaped from its cage, crawled into the depths of the air vents (in which this occasion was winter and when the heat went on was not the prettiest passing for Mr. Hammy). Either way, the festivities for the celebration of the Machanga Girls Center start tomorrow! Let the party begin.


So I know I am supposed to adapt to this culture and I have done a pretty darn tootin’ lot of patient waiting, listening (to other languages I don't understand), eating strange things willingly etc, but I can not help but release the tension at times. Today was the big celebration of the American Board church Machanga Girls Center anniversary. Men from the church came and gave lectures to the girls about working / working hard, not looking too attractive with mesha (hair extensions), no cell phones, no shorts etc. I, to be completely honest, am not a big fan of this forceful, condescending approach. Women are accustomed to be quiet and respond with the response wanted even if one does not agree. When the 43 girls were asked if one of them could pray, no one stood up. They were so intimidated. ‘point and choose’ began. Since it was night, a flashlight was used to interrogatingly choose a girl to stand and give a small word of thanks. Instead, all refused and some began to cry. I had enough, so stood up and prayed in English, showing them it was not that hard to do and didn't have to be fancy or long or wordy. After more lecture I was asked to give my little speech of course and cracked some jokes and said my funny little things I can say in Ndau until laughter echoed in the cement room breaking the silence, or rather still sounds of everyone’s timid breath.

Feb 13 / 10 : PARTY. The day was all focused around the preparation of food. It was a good day and a good party. I will just have to say a small little bit before going to bed. I do not recommend goat liver, and I definitely do not think they cleaned the goat intestines enough to get that taste out. I secretly took those parcels out of my mouth and hid them under other various mystery items on my plate.

Feb 14 / 10 : Happy Halloween! Ummmm… I mean Valentines Day. Up at 4 am to catch a spot on the small, inadequate, falling apart chapa from Machanga to Beira. Got on at 5 am and sat a long while as per usual. We started going, but went the wrong direction. I asked what was happening and got an answer in Chindau. I comprehended certain words but not the whole phrase: “cow”, “people”, “pick up”. So I interpreted the cows were bringing in some people (people get around in carts pulled by cows/ bulls over here). We reached our destination, and I may have interpreted a little wrong. Okay, quite wrong. My eyes saw a sight that perhaps is the one that makes people vegetarians in the first place. Men slaughtered a giant cow with machetes and then proceeded to hack up the body, head and bones, with an axe. We had to wait till it was ready and they wrapped the mass-portions in a tarp and loaded it onto the chapa. The smell was over-bearing and I felt nauseous. We finally starting on our way and since the last large rain storm the gravel road turned into a 2 hour-long washboard. My wall of the chapa seemed to be heaving as if it had a nasty cough and was about to hack itself off its bolts. The door on the other side was not closed and the noise from the loose screws and parts made it impossible to think of anything besides my possible death. We swayed from side to side and everything rattled like we were a paint can getting all its colors mixed on one of those machines. I sent my family a good-bye message on my phone in case I was going to parish.

When we finally made it onto the main road I rejoiced. But after 5 times of breaking down onto and stopping in the hot sun I felt once again hopeless. The cow in the black tarp seemed to be baking and flies were insane! Every time we stopped the waft of the sour corps fumed into the windows as if the chapa were a giant baked taco and the people inside were the chilly-beans and cheese inside the crumbly, hard-crust corn shell (phew! someone sure had beans the night before). When we reached Muxungue at 12:00 we had to get a different chapa, which meant to load up the corpse on the top of the other chapa. We started going and I was pleased with our progress. It started to rain as we traveled on. Blood began to leak down the panes of the windows and juice of 8 hour-ago freshly cut cow entered the chapa. My nice MEC pack smelt of uncooked meat juice. The smell haunts me. The ride seemed prime compared even though it was equally squished and uncomfortable. We were so close,,, the suddenly we had tier problems. We stopped 3 times, then the fourth because it blew. I was so fed up with the whole ride I waved down a car and got in. A nice couple with air conditioning drove me to my destination. They didn't talk too much and I think it was because the combination of my dust and sweat and meat juice was an insult to their noses as well as their perfumed car and seats. Either way I made it! Happy Valentines Day.