The Overbos do Barra

In the dead of the second trimester, Erica and I had a little shining ray of light in the form of visitors from home. Four of my cousins came to visit with a friend of theirs, and we made plans to meet them in Maputo and then spend a few days at the beach. Naturally, things never go quite as smoothly as they could or should. First of all, my cousins had reserved rooms via the internet, and the receptionist had no record of this and no room for all of us, and evidently no need to be courteous or helpful (to be expected in Mozambique). So when my first cousin arrived early, we switched hotels. The next day, I spent an hour at the airport waiting for them, worrying they were being interrogated or were left stranded in South Africa. Someone mentioned that there was a group in the room for international arrivals, but it was a group of Chinese men—definitely not my cousins. As it turned out, the four of them had taken an earlier flight and had checked into the original hotel, and they’d already arranged a taxi for the next morning, so after tracking them down at that hotel, I was wildly relieved to find that my family had safely made it. Unfortunately, we all felt a little stress the next AM, when we arrived at the hostel where the bus would pick us up and did not see the last four members of our group. I tried to ask another traveler if I could quickly use the hostel computer he was using to look up the phone number for their hotel, but he looked at me as if I were absolutely crazy and after a brief pause, gave me a resolute “no.” OK. Thankfully, there was a phone book lying out, so I called the hotel and asked if my cousins were still there. The receptionist said the taxi had left almost an hour earlier and had taken them to the junta. I think I have omitted descriptions of the junta from earlier posts, so let me quickly explain what the junta is and why those ominous words struck fear into my heart. The junta is the Maputo bus stop where you can get onto a mini-bus that will take you almost anywhere in the country. At any given moment, this lot is filled with 20 or more buses and scores of people milling about, trying to sell you things or get you onto their taxi. It is crowded, smelly, and a little dangerous, particularly for foreigners, and is probably one of the last places on earth you want to be at 5:00 in the morning. I was horrified. Our bus arrived shortly thereafter, and I explained the situation to our driver, asking if he could call a driver at the junta. I told him I was looking for a group of four white people, two men and two women. He punched in a number, said a few words, and handed me the phone. I heard my cousin Renee’s voice on the other end of the line; of course, in Mozambique, you can quickly identify a group of lost-looking foreigners with minimal effort. It’s a rapid process of elimination. Our bus dropped by the junta to pick up my family and a few other passengers to pack the bus to capacity (or past, depending on who you ask). So our collective nightmare ended, and seven hours later we arrived at our resort, cramped, exhausted, and excited. I think this is best summed up in pictures, so here it is.

It was awesome, and my cousin Joshua uploaded a bunch of gorgeous photos on Facebook that do more justice to the experience.  We also went on an ocean safari and weaved between jellyfish to keep up with whale sharks. They were beautiful, and large. One sort of snuck up behind me and gave me a small heart-attack; they are harmless to humans, but their mouths are still a good two-and-a-half feet wide, so I easily imagined myself getting stuck in there and did double-time to try to maintain the recommended three-meter distance between myself and the inquisitive shark.  Plus, that shark dorsal fin is just plain scary, even on a vegetarian fish.  Aside from our animal encounters, we did some shopping, were beach bums for several hours, and went on a sunset catamaran ride on our last evening. It was delightful.

We rented a chapa to take us back to Maputo so people could have more space, and it dropped us off at the door to our hotel, where I’d reserved two large rooms for us. Unfortunately, they didn’t actually reserve them for us and gave them to other guests, and I spent the better part of an hour frantically calling ten or more hotels, looking for accommodation for seven people at 4:00 on a Saturday night. It was unpleasant and unsuccessful, and I longingly dreamed of home, the land where the customer is always right. A guest at our hotel saw our troubles, took pity on us, and gave us a number to a hotel where she’d stayed. Miracle of miracles, it was the only hotel that cost less than $400 a night that had room for all of us. We dropped off our things and went out for our last dinner together. It was sad to feel our vacation ending, but after some of our Maputo misadventures, I don’t know how much more vacation we could actually handle. Erica and I had breakfast with our group the next morning, said our goodbyes (mine a little tearful, I have to admit), and hopped on a chapa back to Chibuto. Now we’re back in school, working on our projects, and counting down until our next break. Every trip, we learn something from a new crisis, so if anybody else is still planning on visiting (you know who you are), maybe by then we’ll have perfected the formula and will have a karma payback with a smooth, trouble-free trip. Maybe. If not, well, it will be an adventure.  One can always count on that here.

March´s Pocket Full of Mumbles

Erica and me with students at a ceremony to commemorate Mozambique´s first president, Samora Machel.

Kids helping us with the messy task of de-feathering chickens.

Our new sitemate!

January drag-g-ged along, and I somehow suddenly found myself in the middle of March. February came and went, and was a transient month in general: we went to Maputo for several days to have our mid-service medical check-ups (clean bill of health, no parasites that I know of) and our friend from Cape Town came to visit us for a few days. This visit coincided with a two chickens leaving their lives, ones we had purchased, butchered, and de-feathered with the help of our empregada for a tasty little dinner festa. My fan went out, a victim of certain dogs who like to chew on electrical wires. And my internet phone left my life, lifted on a chapa in Maputo. It’s almost as if with just 28 days, February is an unanswered question, lacking those last few days to punctuate the month and let it form any solid conclusions (aside from the obvious conclusion that any electronics I own in Mozambique will inevitably be stolen or broken). Mozambique is an excellent study in time and its passing. Too bad I don’t have any Proust lying around.

In the theme of comings-and-goings, I suppose I could say that March came in like a lamb, since it was ever-so-slightly-cooler for a few evenings, but those happy dreams of an early winter died as the mercury rose, and March is going out like a lion, devouring us in an unfortunate heat wave. We fled to Xai-xai for a day trip one weekend with our sitemate Vivienne and her visiting boyfriend; we cooled off in the water, bought souvenirs on the beach, and ate oysters. It was a nice day. One of our Mozambican friends just bought a car, so we’re hoping to hitch a ride with him to the beach sometime again in the near future, because it sure beats hopping aboard an overstuffed, overheated chapa, and Chibuto is an insufferable oven in this infernal heat.

School is going well. Since I’m teaching the same material as last year, I have minimal lesson-planning to do, and I have a much better grasp on how to use my classroom time. That is to say, I have realized that my students absorb precious little from the two 45-minute lessons we have each week and study less, so I teach fewer concepts and pack more practice problems into their short lessons. Classroom management has also drastically improved, thanks in part to the classes’ daily behavior grade, which I dramatically erase and re-write based on my whims and their noise levels. It’s still exhausting, with larger classes of 60-70 students this year and an inconvenient schedule that leaves me little time to run into Chibuto for internet and errands, but I’m enjoying it more. Also, we have a new director, and having new leadership is motivating other teachers to shape up a little and actually show up for class, thereby minimizing the chaos of hundreds of students running around school in the mid-afternoon. That’s always a plus.

Science Fair is starting, and since Erica and I are coordinating the project on the national level (Erica as President, me as Financial Coordinator), we are taking the backseat for our local and provincial fairs and having our colleagues plan and facilitate the meetings and fair events. Erica’s school has had volunteers and Science Fairs for the past several years, so there’s no good reason for us to get suckered into doing it when other people actually have more experience with it and would rather just sit back and watch us work. This frees up more time for me to work with Geração Biz, a Mozambican peer-education health program. A few of my more charismatic, energetic students have started coming, which has contributed to a good group dynamic, and we’ve settled on a regular schedule. They are studying the reproductive system and have learned Duck, Duck, Goose, among other things, and I’m overall very pleased with them. We’ll have a training for them in April, and hopefully afterwards they can begin planning presentations and skits to present to their peers. With Science Fair and the ongoing development of our local Cultural Center (slowly, slowly taking shape), Geração Biz is by far my favorite project and what I will be most proud of accomplishing outside of the classroom when I leave.

Now that we’re well into 2011, Erica and I are beginning to think about the end of our time in Mozambique. We are planning when we will go home (early-mid November, hopefully?), how we will get there (renting a personal chapa to Maputo for us and our homeward bound animals), what we will do when we get there (crash in the Big Apple for a few days), and what we will do in the long run (be impoverished grad students). I’ve become interested in public health for the last few years, in water sanitation and availability in particular, and am looking into different programs and thinking about where I would like to be and where I’d like to study. It’s bizarre, because with the never-ending application process, the unexpected year delay, and the idle transition months, applying for and finally joining the Peace Corps has been the saga of almost the last four years of my life, and all of a sudden, the end is in sight. “The end” is still seven and a half months away, but in the context of the last 45 months, it’s definitely approaching. I’m really ready for the next chapter in my life, but if I’ve learned anything in these last few years, it’s been to enjoy where I’m at and not wish away my time. After all, that’s the stuff life’s made of.

[more visual aids]

Captions, in no particular order:  Erica and her family at Blyde River Canyon, hippo-spotting in Kruger, the Overbos, a snacking giraffe, me and Anna in a tuk-tuk in Maputo, Tofo beach, Mom looking pensive at Xai-xai beach, Anna and me bartering in Tofo, Erica and her dad at the Cape, the Cape of Good Hope, Erica and our friend, the scenic drive to the Cape, one of the vineyards.  In short, scenic sub-Saharan Africa with friends and family.

Vacay, Part Deux

With another two weeks ahead of me before classes would start, of course I couldn’t just go back to Chibuto after my family left. What a colossal waste of a perfectly good travel opportunity that would be! So I booked a spot on an overnight bus to Joburg and a cheap airplane ticket to Cape Town, where I would meet Erica and her dad. I met a kind young couple along the way who recommended a neat hostel in Cape Town and, after swapping contact info, pointed me in the right direction. I had a day to get acquainted with our snazzy hostel and most importantly, its pool, as the day I arrived was Cape Town’s hottest summer day yet. Once the hottest part of the afternoon had passed, I wandered in and out of shops on Cape Town’s bustling Long Street, window-shopping, buying things I hadn’t intended to buy, spending money I hadn’t intended to spend, and generally having a good time. I even found a funky hipster restaurant to have a gourmet veggie burger—imagine that! Oh, the delights of the sparkly, shiny developed world. Back at the hostel, I met fellow travelers and was reunited with Erica and her dad later that evening.

The next day, we took off for the Cape of Good Hope with a new friend from the hostel. Along the way, we stopped to see penguins at the aptly named Penguin Beach and drove past baboons in the road (no namesake beach). It was a gorgeous drive, taking us past bluffs, the Indian Ocean, the Atlantic Ocean, ostriches, and yet more baboons. Since Erica’s dad was suffering from back pain, we three youngsters went out the next morning to hike up Table Mountain. For being a tourist attraction, I have to say, it was a pretty strenuous hike; although being from the Great Plains, I suppose I have a natural tendency toward laziness when it comes to hills and mountains and various slopes. Erica and I forgot to stretch out and felt that hike for days to come, but it was well worth it, and we even rewarded ourselves with slushies at the end of it all. We spent the afternoon recuperating by the pool, eating tropical fruits: mangos, bananas, grapes, papaya, grenadilla, and prickly pear. Later that evening, we went out to eat at a restaurant where the three meat-eaters of our party of four tried ostrich steak, crocodile, and warthog ribs (delicious). Day 2 in Cape Town, summed up: broke a sweat, ate like a king, slept like a log. I love vacation, and oh, do I love the developed world.

Since we had to eventually drive the rental car back to Joburg, we were crunched for time, so the next day, we left Cape Town to spend a day in the surrounding Winelands. We tasted wine at three vineyards and had a gourmet picnic by the river. We arrived at the last vineyard too late for Erica and I to take its rowboats onto the nearby pond, but considering the low alcohol tolerance we exhibited, it was probably for the best. Skipping stones was much less risky activity. That evening, we barbecued at the hostel, enjoyed the wine we’d bought, passed around the hostel guitar, and shared stories. And I tried my very best not to think of the imminent end of our time in South Africa and the upcoming school year, ever-looming closer. I was more-or-less successful.

We said goodbye to our friend the next day and began our two-day road trip back to Joburg. In Joburg, we took advantage of the last luxuries the developed world could offer us: fun restaurants, shopping malls, movie theaters, coffee, laundry, television, and internet. Sigh. We said goodbye to Erica’s dad, and later that evening, said goodbye to South Africa. So many goodbyes, but what naturally follows every goodbye is a hello—Hello Mozambique!

Now we’re back home, starting the new school year. Of course, the schedules for my school weren’t ready on time, so I’ll start teaching next week. As much as I’ve been dreading going back to work, part of me is excited to start a fresh school year. I start this year knowing more about the culture of my school, knowing my colleagues and students better, knowing more about how to be an effective teacher, and knowing more Portuguese. While I now lack the excitement of the unknown that I experienced at this time last year, it will be a pleasure to work feeling more confident about how things work and how I fit into that system.  I may be a cog in the system, but I'm an American cog, and it's good to know maybe not exactly what that entails, but what I can do with it.

An Old Long Since, and One Year to Go

Should old acquaintance be forgot,

and never brought to mind?

Should old acquaintance be forgot,

and auld lang syne?

For auld lang syne, my dear,

for auld lang syne,

we'll take a cup of kindness yet,

for auld lang syne.

Over the last few weeks, I got to enjoy the company of some of my oldest acquaintances:  family.  Erica, her sister, and I went to Johannesburg to meet their dad and my mother and sister so we could enjoy our sub-Saharan holidays together.  Unfortunately, their dad's flight had a stop in London and was cancelled due to the "storm" that swept through Europe (note the North Dakotan scorn over the application of that word to two inches of snow), but we met up with their dad just a few days later, in time to drive through the beautiful Blyde River Canyon and to move on to Kruger National Park.

During our two days in Kruger, we successfully spotted the "big five" from the safety and comfort of our rental van:  lion, leopard, elephant, rhinocerous, and the unexpected fifth, the buffalo.  Other notable viewings included vultures, giraffes, dung beetles, hornbills (the Lion King bird), warthogs, baboons, and approximately 644 impalas (yes, I counted).  Once we'd had our fill of wildlife adventures, we drove to Komatipoort, where our families enjoyed a relaxing Christmas at a small B&B.

On the 26th, Mom, Anna, and I said goodbye to Erica's family and left for Mozambique.  Our bus incidentally left for Mozambique without picking us up, but one frantic phone call and one overpriced private ride later, we were ushered across the nearby border and onto our idling bus.  In my opinion, adventure-filled Africa wouldn't be the same if everything worked out just as it should.  The three of us spent a day shopping in Maputo and then took the 4 AM bus to Tofo, where we enjoyed two days of blue skies, white sand, and warm ocean water.  Our Ocean Safari was definitely action-packed; we swam with schools of brightly colored fish, we spotted dolphins, and Anna suffered a small head wound.  Here's the quick sum-up:  the story involves getting a "small" cut that later turned out to be not-so-small, getting a hurried ride to the soon-to-close-clinic in the neighboring city from an artist friend of mine, nearly running over pedestrians who "are afraid of rain, but not cars," banging on the clinic door when it closed one minute early, and getting excellent care from the gracious staff who stayed half an hour past closing to give Anna stitches.  This was how we spent our last evening in Tofo--again, I think life would be awfully drab without these unexpected adventures.

Up to this point, we had traveled by rental car in South Africa and had taken a nice charter bus from Maputo to Tofo. Unfortunately, these nice charter buses have limited routes, so to get back to Chibuto, Anna and Mom got to experience the delightful chapa, the minibus that is crammed to capacity and then half again. Chapas generally are filled with warm bodies, crying children, and oftentimes, chickens. We arrived back in Chibuto feeling slightly cramped but without incident and took a quick walk to my school with the dogs, meeting various friends and neighbors.

Since Chibuto is essentially a baking sandy oven without a beach, we took a day trip to Xai-xai the following morning. Aside from a brief wedding procession (a common occurrence on Xai-xai beach), the beach was quiet and largely unoccupied all morning. Although Xai-xai doesn’t have the fine, white sand of Tofo, it’s still a lovely beach, and the water is a bit cooler and more refreshing. We enjoyed lunch on the beach and went into town to buy capulanas and have a beer with a friend of mine, a colleague from school.

We returned to Chibuto for New Year’s Eve, and after having their fill of bucket baths, latrines, and unfortunately, cockroaches (their trip coincided with a sudden infestation during our absence), we took our last chapa to Maputo on New Year’s Day and stayed with Anna’s friend Erica and her family for a few days. We did a little more shopping, a little more wandering, and after a whirlwind trip, Mom and Anna were off again, this time not by chapa, but by plane, back home to the states. After making tracks around sub-Saharan Africa, it was time to head halfway across the world, homeward bound, as I will do in just 10 months’ time.