If anyone needs something welded, I am now capable. At KEDESH I learnt how to weld with electricity. I made a Mozambican style oven, in a Mozambican welding-style. Saying this I mean welding in: flip-flops, shorts, tank-top. The only protection was the hand-held welding mask, and I used my cat-like reflexes to dodge bits of burning metal. One flew in-between my toes! Ouch.
March 22 / 10 - You know that things are sparse here in Machanga when your guard and chef are fighting over who will take home the empty mayonnaise jar. Tio George, the guard claimed it first. But Tio Machau (the chef) claims it is his tern to take it home because Tio George already took home the goat pelt from the party we had. I am not sure what the end result was, but the mayonnaise jar wasn't either of theirs to begin with. Nor did it have mayonnaise in it.
March. 27 / 10 – Ah art. Art is defiantly a therapy for me. I picked up oil paints when I was in the city and have started to decorate our dorm wall with the girls. I gave a space to each girl to do with it what she wants. It has been a growing experience for all. Learning R-E-S-P-E-C-T, not to paint outside of your designated space, on other peoples paintings, on the ground etc, learning how to use a paint brush and respect the equipment given, cleaning up after ones self, and how to encourage and compliment others on their work. Learning colour mixtures (what colours make GREEN?) is a new thing for almost all. Half a coconut shell is sued as our palate (paint holder) and a group will form eager to see the results of a new colour created. Painting has been an everyday activity for over a week; me- having to take out and set up the equipment twice a day (once for the morning group and once for the afternoon group) and monitoring everything, encouraging, suggesting then cleaning up. Not sure how many brain-cells have been destroyed from the constant exposure to the fumes of paints, lacquer thinner and turpentine, but I am very much enjoying myself.
March 29 / 10 – “Tia, I must confess… I am a smoker” Tio George Injchala admitted in Portuguese as he pulled out a hand-rolled tobacco roll from his plastic bag in his pocket. I told him I already knew, and he seemed surprised. How could I not with a smokers cough which makes even my ribs hurt from hearing the wheeze. I always know when he takes out a fresh roll, for the series of heeves and hacks begins, then will slowly diminish. We sat under a large masanica tree on his property as the wind occasionally rustled the branches sending the cherry sized, apple tasting, pit imbedded, fruit on our heads; little children (not sure if their were his kids, his sons, or neighbor kids) waited anxiously on the outskirts of adults in the chairs to make a chase for the fallen fruit. The breeze was refreshing and conversation informal. Neighbors ‘happened to stumble in that way’, I am guessing to get a better view of the muzungu, and I surprised myself with conversations that I could keep going in my few-word phrases of Ndau. As we chatted, Tio, being a night guard, was nodding off in his chair, head occasionally slipping off his hand jerking him back into consciousness. He constantly had to run back inside to roll a fresh cigarette to keep him occupied and alert.
We arrived at his house an hour from the center on our bikes. My bike, never ceasing to have a flat made the trek a little more difficult then usual, but we made it just as the sun began threatening its scorching rays. He had told the other 10 household members in advance of my visit. He, being the only member of his family to speak Portuguese. It was a good opportunity to use the Ndau that I do know. Tio and I walked around his land and area to show me the marsh, his machamba (field/garden) and local plants that can serve as food and others medicinal properties. When we got back to the house his wife had freshly killed a chicken, which was to be our lunch, and began plucking its feathers. Fresh. Tio made sure I knew that this lunch was in my honor, and they had bought the chicken months in advance, awaiting my arrival. They gave me the honored piece of charred chicken-stomach and there was nothing I could do to pass it to anyone else without insulting them > so into my stomach went the stomach. After lunch, Telemba, a 15 year old with her 11 month old took me to the marsh and I waded into the sun-hot water and tomar banho’ed (bathed). What a perfect African day. I am not sure who was more grateful; they kept thanking me for being there and I kept thanking them for hosting me.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Sunday, March 14, 2010
hobuwa - snail
March 6 / 10 - Now its time to play the waiting game…… sigh…… and….. nnnnnnnn……. NNNnnnnn….. nnnnnooooW! NOW! Nope. My mistake, please continue to wait patiently like everyone else.
People have incredible talents for waiting without complaining. As you may already know, when things start at 10, it means 12:30 at the earliest, and if they say ‘punto!’ (sharp) 40 mins is the magic number to wait after that mark ( and you will usually still be the early one).
What is fair is fair... Waiting … No one seems to mind to wait for hours on end and eventually not even get what they were waiting for. Tia Cacilda and I were waiting for a shipment of dry fish to come in to buy in bulk quantities for the girls’ center. We got their early morning and waited over lunch and until 17:30. When the boat finally came in the woman, whom accumulated AFTER us and were patiently waiting doing each others hair, got up in a frenzy tumbled down to the boats and claimed sacks of fish. In the end we didn't even get what we were waiting for. Part of life. Go in the next day to repeat and perhaps get lucky?
March 8 / 10 - There is nothing like a visitor coming to visit for one to realize how much they appreciate the place they are in. Jon, a colleague working up in Tete province, came to Machanga Saturday and stayed the Sunday and Monday. The girls with singing and dancing greeted him warmly, taking his load off his back and clapping. I love it when people get so overwhelmed in these kinds of situations. It was nice to talk English and show a piece of my life as well as the girls life to another person with the same Western prospective. I can say I felt quiet proud of our little district of Machanga. There is not much out this way, but what we have is wonderful! And the people are what make it what it is. He fell in love with all my dearest neighbors and friends and they likewise were overjoyed with another white to come to their parts of Moz.
March 12 / 10 – Helped Tia Amelia transplant rice. We found a giant snail. We put it in the fire. I ate it. Chewy.
People have incredible talents for waiting without complaining. As you may already know, when things start at 10, it means 12:30 at the earliest, and if they say ‘punto!’ (sharp) 40 mins is the magic number to wait after that mark ( and you will usually still be the early one).
What is fair is fair... Waiting … No one seems to mind to wait for hours on end and eventually not even get what they were waiting for. Tia Cacilda and I were waiting for a shipment of dry fish to come in to buy in bulk quantities for the girls’ center. We got their early morning and waited over lunch and until 17:30. When the boat finally came in the woman, whom accumulated AFTER us and were patiently waiting doing each others hair, got up in a frenzy tumbled down to the boats and claimed sacks of fish. In the end we didn't even get what we were waiting for. Part of life. Go in the next day to repeat and perhaps get lucky?
March 8 / 10 - There is nothing like a visitor coming to visit for one to realize how much they appreciate the place they are in. Jon, a colleague working up in Tete province, came to Machanga Saturday and stayed the Sunday and Monday. The girls with singing and dancing greeted him warmly, taking his load off his back and clapping. I love it when people get so overwhelmed in these kinds of situations. It was nice to talk English and show a piece of my life as well as the girls life to another person with the same Western prospective. I can say I felt quiet proud of our little district of Machanga. There is not much out this way, but what we have is wonderful! And the people are what make it what it is. He fell in love with all my dearest neighbors and friends and they likewise were overjoyed with another white to come to their parts of Moz.
March 12 / 10 – Helped Tia Amelia transplant rice. We found a giant snail. We put it in the fire. I ate it. Chewy.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
i could really use a friend like you
Feb 25 / 10 - I had spent a brief time back in the city and have already returned to the center. During the time I was gone, the food was not delivered to the center and they went two days without any food! I do feel thankful that I was able to eat good foods in the city, but also feel a bit guilty I was able to indulge while everyone else back here was hungry.
Of course the trip back was eventful, as in the tire underneath my seat blew and I thought we were going to plummet the chapa into the ditch. The driver raised his left hand to calm me and assure me everything was alright as my nails dug into the seat deeper then my mothers when I was in drivers-Ed and began to drive our ol’ Aerostar around the ‘hood’. I would rather have had him put both hands on the wheel, but we skidded to a stop, did the repair and were on our way.
Africans have many friends. Friends. I still cant decided if these friends are family, acquaintances, old comrades or the second time meeting (the first time being from a distance). But nonetheless, Africans seem to treat everybody they meet on the street as if they are first cousins. Walking on the street, yes I am everybody’s ‘sister’ and ‘friend’, but so are other people who pass by. I was walking with a local friend, and I stepped in a mess of mud. It had sucked my sandal and foot right in to create a dirty boot effect. The friend said it was best to ask for water to wash my foot to save me embarrassment and so we walked to the nearest house. There, as I washed my foot, my friend and the house owners greeted each other as pals, then later went into detail of who they were. They had not really known each other as I had first thought. To Africans, the more friends the better. This way they can benefit form the resources one has when in times of need. This is why everyone wants to be my best friend> because they see I have lots of money and when they are in need they can just call their best friend Alexis for a loan. Being white, you are a friend magnet.
March 1 / 10 – Information is a valuable commodity and Africans don't share this as freely as they do items or food and hospitality. Although it is sometimes hard to get historical and personal information out of a Mozambican, there are cultural clues that can let one in on secrets or information. Names have a large significance, especially in the Chindau culture. Mbepo – translated as Wind, lets one know that this baby was born on a very windy day. Okay, so that is not that big of a secret. But others have names such as Zhvipa – meaning cemetery – or others with the name translated as crying and tears. These children were born from a mother who’s previous children repeatedly died after birth, and so this child was also expected to die like the others, in which, if the baby died as expected, would be given to the cemetery, one would cry, and tears would be shed. But it is very typical to encounter people who grew up and carried this sad name into adult-hood.
Other names, unfortunately for the innocent babies sake, are aimed to take a nasty shot at ex-husbands who left their wives. When a woman is thought to be infertile, it is very common for the man to leave her for another woman. The couple will go their separate ways and find new partners. Low and behold the woman is able to have children with this new man and therefore it was the mans fault for the lack of children. The name given to this child is a name to put shame on the ex-husband. Since districts such as Machanga are not very big, word spreads fast about the name of the child and information revealed.
When a child is born, an elder relative of the child gives a blessing and instructions of how this child must grow and follow. Some of these instructions include things that the person can and cannot eat. Many people cannot eat things that have been chewed are eaten partially by zebra (even thought the war and floods /cyclones have wiped out almost all zebras), rats, monkeys and others are forbidden to eat chicken hearts or other specific parts of animals. When one goes against the instructions given, the consequence is the rotting of teeth. Many have rotting teeth here and they are seen as not having followed instructions and are seen as a bit careless or rule-breakers.
Chameleons’ are strange but beautiful creatures. Along with the myth of their deadly, un-healable bite, it is said that if one sees, with their own eyes, a chameleon shed its skin (like a snake apparently), it means one of the family members, of the one who viewed the shedding-skin event, died that instant. Tia Cacilda testified that this happened to her when she was 11. After seeing the chameleon shed its skin-coat, she went home and was informed of the death of her aunt.
Change is sparse. Were talking coins. So many things there are to buy that only cost 5 or 10 meticais, in which these denominations are coins. When making a purchase and the seller does not have change, you may find yourself waiting on the side of the street or in the store where you bought your item watching your seller run down the street to find a friend or another store owner to get coins off. After the change is given, the seller tries to succeed on making another sell with that change you have just received. Now you don't have that excuse to say ‘Sorry I have no more money, I just spent it on that last item’ the cat is out of the bag, or the change is out of the pocket.
Of course the trip back was eventful, as in the tire underneath my seat blew and I thought we were going to plummet the chapa into the ditch. The driver raised his left hand to calm me and assure me everything was alright as my nails dug into the seat deeper then my mothers when I was in drivers-Ed and began to drive our ol’ Aerostar around the ‘hood’. I would rather have had him put both hands on the wheel, but we skidded to a stop, did the repair and were on our way.
Africans have many friends. Friends. I still cant decided if these friends are family, acquaintances, old comrades or the second time meeting (the first time being from a distance). But nonetheless, Africans seem to treat everybody they meet on the street as if they are first cousins. Walking on the street, yes I am everybody’s ‘sister’ and ‘friend’, but so are other people who pass by. I was walking with a local friend, and I stepped in a mess of mud. It had sucked my sandal and foot right in to create a dirty boot effect. The friend said it was best to ask for water to wash my foot to save me embarrassment and so we walked to the nearest house. There, as I washed my foot, my friend and the house owners greeted each other as pals, then later went into detail of who they were. They had not really known each other as I had first thought. To Africans, the more friends the better. This way they can benefit form the resources one has when in times of need. This is why everyone wants to be my best friend> because they see I have lots of money and when they are in need they can just call their best friend Alexis for a loan. Being white, you are a friend magnet.
March 1 / 10 – Information is a valuable commodity and Africans don't share this as freely as they do items or food and hospitality. Although it is sometimes hard to get historical and personal information out of a Mozambican, there are cultural clues that can let one in on secrets or information. Names have a large significance, especially in the Chindau culture. Mbepo – translated as Wind, lets one know that this baby was born on a very windy day. Okay, so that is not that big of a secret. But others have names such as Zhvipa – meaning cemetery – or others with the name translated as crying and tears. These children were born from a mother who’s previous children repeatedly died after birth, and so this child was also expected to die like the others, in which, if the baby died as expected, would be given to the cemetery, one would cry, and tears would be shed. But it is very typical to encounter people who grew up and carried this sad name into adult-hood.
Other names, unfortunately for the innocent babies sake, are aimed to take a nasty shot at ex-husbands who left their wives. When a woman is thought to be infertile, it is very common for the man to leave her for another woman. The couple will go their separate ways and find new partners. Low and behold the woman is able to have children with this new man and therefore it was the mans fault for the lack of children. The name given to this child is a name to put shame on the ex-husband. Since districts such as Machanga are not very big, word spreads fast about the name of the child and information revealed.
When a child is born, an elder relative of the child gives a blessing and instructions of how this child must grow and follow. Some of these instructions include things that the person can and cannot eat. Many people cannot eat things that have been chewed are eaten partially by zebra (even thought the war and floods /cyclones have wiped out almost all zebras), rats, monkeys and others are forbidden to eat chicken hearts or other specific parts of animals. When one goes against the instructions given, the consequence is the rotting of teeth. Many have rotting teeth here and they are seen as not having followed instructions and are seen as a bit careless or rule-breakers.
Chameleons’ are strange but beautiful creatures. Along with the myth of their deadly, un-healable bite, it is said that if one sees, with their own eyes, a chameleon shed its skin (like a snake apparently), it means one of the family members, of the one who viewed the shedding-skin event, died that instant. Tia Cacilda testified that this happened to her when she was 11. After seeing the chameleon shed its skin-coat, she went home and was informed of the death of her aunt.
Change is sparse. Were talking coins. So many things there are to buy that only cost 5 or 10 meticais, in which these denominations are coins. When making a purchase and the seller does not have change, you may find yourself waiting on the side of the street or in the store where you bought your item watching your seller run down the street to find a friend or another store owner to get coins off. After the change is given, the seller tries to succeed on making another sell with that change you have just received. Now you don't have that excuse to say ‘Sorry I have no more money, I just spent it on that last item’ the cat is out of the bag, or the change is out of the pocket.
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