The End Has No End

The final trimester has begun! Summer is coming around again and Mozambique is slowly warming up. I'm making packing lists and getting things ready for the next volunteer. Everything in our lives is leading up to our homecoming in another two months. We will be leaving Mozambique in the third week of October and I should hopefully be home just before my 26th birthday. Words can't express how happy I will be to be home for my birthday; the prospect of spending three birthdays in Mozambique was dreary at best. After spending a weekend with family, I'm flying back to NYC to spend a week with Erica, where we'll pamper ourselves, get haircuts and buy new clothes that aren't threadbare from handwashing. These efforts will be preemptive actions to prevent hearing, "You were in the Peace Corps? I could see that."

We have a few more events to squeeze in before saying our goodbyes. I finally made it back to Namaacha to visit my host family this weekend, which was nice. Our first ever National Science Fair will take place in Beira in another week, and things are finally coming together. It will be nice to have an opportunity to make it up to central Mozambique, because with our teaching schedules, we haven't done as much traveling in Mozambique as we'd hoped (this country is huge, and I haven't made it past the southern region since training). My brother and sister-in-law will come to Mozambique in September, and I am thrilled to have one last beach vacation before heading home, especially since Erica and I were sick and didn't get to do any traveling during our week-long trimester break. Hopefully we'll get together with our nearby PCVs for one last get-together in Xai-Xai, and then we'll be packing up our things and our animals, homeward bound!

Thankfully, I think I can say that I'll be leaving Mozambique with few regrets; I wish I would have taken more pictures of my colleagues and students during the first year, I regret not eating more mangoes during the last mango season (neighborhood kids stole all of ours), I wish I would've practiced violin more often, I regret not writing letters this year (postage prices tripled), and I would have liked to spend more time with some PCV friends, particularly those that are already stateside. But, c'est la vie, assím é a vida. So it goes. On the flip side, I learned how to play guitar, did some drawing and painting, baked a cake every Wednesday, read 57 books (and counting), made several pieces of clothing by hand, and formed rewarding relationships with colleagues, neighbors, and students. After two years here, I think that's a respectable assessment.

Things I am looking forward to at home (in no particular order):

• hot showers and baths
• cheese and milk
• ice cream!
• not feeling like I've narrowly escaped disaster every time I step out of a motor vehicle
• white Christmas
• celebrating holidays with friends and family
• Target
• coffee
• public radio
• fun restaurants
• snack food, granola bars, and breakfast cereal
• not having a trail of children asking me for candy and money when I leave the house
• not having a group of children hollering for candy and crayons when I'm in the house
• punctuality and accountability
• playing piano (and on occasion, the accordion)
• having more than two friends nearby
• leaving the house past 6 PM
• having things to do past 6 PM
• not needing to do sweeping cockroach extermination on a regular basis
• watching media on something other than a 10-inch laptop screen

Little things I'll miss:

• the occasional lost chicken that waltzes into the house and sets the dogs into a frenzy
• walking through the beautiful, underdeveloped matu for 40 minutes every day on my way to and from school
• the vibrant colors--rust sand, sky blue, verdant fruit trees
• having ample free time
• feeling comfortable with silence and utter inactivity
• fresh papaya, mango, passionfruit, pineapple, tangerines, oranges, coconuts, and... all of the other yummy fruits that don't even have names in English
• brushing my teeth under the stars every night

And here's a brief look back, a few pictures from the last few months that fill in some of the gaps:  my boyfriend serenading Erica and the dogs on her birthday (he doesn't actually play the guitar); my students tearing it up with a cultural dance; a woman in the market selling papayas the size of basketballs; Erica cooking by headlamp on a night with no electricity (my headlamp bit the dust--I unfortunately dropped it in the latrine); my Geração Biz students performing their theater piece; three of my students who dropped by for a visit.

My Extraterrestrial Mozambique

Suddenly, I have just three months left in Mozambique, and I once again have to borrow from Kurt Vonnegut, once again from Slaughterhouse-Five, to best describe the feeling. This passage comes from the extraterrestrials’ description of their reading experiences, and aside from the context, it relates pretty well to how I feel while looking back at my time here.

… There isn’t any particular relationship between all the messages, except that the author has chosen them carefully, so that, when seen all at once, they produce an image of life that is beautiful and surprising and deep. There is no beginning, no middle, no end, no suspense, no moral, no causes, no effects. What we love in our books are the depths of many marvelous moments seen all at one time.

 

I’ve been feeling nostalgic for the last two weeks, caught in a wash of moments and memories. I am typically awakened from my reverie either by an inquisitive cockroach edging towards my glass or by a small neighbor child hollering for candy or crayons in a shrill voice at our door. So while I am seeing my time in Mozambique slip away, day by day, part of me is also racing towards my imminent return home. I’ve learned and enjoyed many things here, but I’m looking forward to going home and feeling like a whole person again, a fully-functioning member of society, back in the comfort of my familiar cultural context, back in the company of family and friends.

Things are going just fine here. The second trimester is wrapping up—the exams have been given, the averages have been calculated, and we’ll have our conselhos in another two weeks. We’ll have our provincial science fair this weekend and start planning for the national fair, coming up on its heels in August. My Geração Biz students have been presenting at school events and will do their theater pieces and lectures during their biology lessons next week. When we’re not doing something with our projects or schoolwork, we’re typically just trying to keep warm—this winter has been downright chilly! Fifty degrees Fahrenheit feels much colder when it’s damp and windy and there’s no insulation or heating. I’m going to be in for a brutal shock when I face the first Midwestern winter in 3 years. Good thing I’ll be too busy soaking up everything America to notice.

Glimpses of the Glittering First World

With just four months to go, there is a light at the end of this “dark continent” proverbial tunnel.  (I must say, I think that’s a terrible nickname for Africa, and only appropriate in reference to the widespread lack of electricity and light pollution.)  This light is the beacon of reliable electricity, heralding my return to the developed world.  Throughout these two years, there have been days that Erica and I have thought this experience would never end, and that we’d be suffering with our cockroach infestation in Mozambique forever.  There have been other days, eating tropical fruits and basking in the sun’s rays on one idyllic beach or another, that I’ve wished the days to lengthen and multiply.  But although I’ve toyed with the idea, I’ve never considered extending my service another year; I started my Peace Corps application 47 months ago now, and it’s time for something new.

So as we lesson-plan, grade tests, organize Science Fair events, visit our up-and-running cultural center, and try to keep the cockroach population under control, we make plans for the future, and the focal point of our plans is entrance into graduate school.  We are in South Africa right now for Erica to take the GRE and both of us are reveling in the luxury of fast, reliable internet and delighting in the ease of obtaining graduate school information that is otherwise a headache to access in Mozambique.  I will be applying to Master’s of Public Health programs, getting my degree in the environmental sciences and global health departments.  In the future, I’d like to work with issues of water supply and sanitation in developing countries.  I am pretty darn excited.  Water quality and availability have interested me since my junior semester abroad in Asia, and my experiences in Mozambique have turned that passing interest into a passion, after spending days without water where I forego a much-needed evening bath, turn a blind eye to a basin full of dirty dishes, and plan a dinner that would involve frying instead of boiling or steaming to conserve water.  As far as I’m concerned, running water is the best thing since sliced bread (so to speak).  And potable running water—well, that’s just too much for words.  So, I’m narrowing down my school choices, working on my Statement of Purpose, and trying to figure out how to best execute the application process when I am always in Chimundo, the Chibuto suburb where you can’t even buy bread, let alone get online.  It’s a work in progress (my applications and Chimundo).

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.