We are back in Monapo, putting our nose right back to that grindstone in the state we left it in. School started the other week and I am playing fast and loose with the term "start." Technically, no one shows up for the first week of the year because the school has administrative issues to handle. Then, the second week, no one comes because let's face it, it's just not cool to show up that week. You don't want to look too eager - too overzealous cheerleader from Grease. Then, we find ourselves in the third week of the year. The trimester only has nine weeks in it. And the last two weeks are quite similar to the first few weeks. So you can just imagine how the level of productivity is nowhere close to that of the Keebler Elves. I always loved that commercial. Those little elves...working in a tree...with cookies...So easily confused with Snap, Crackle and Pop, the Rice Krispies sweatshop laborers. But I digress...
We had a new fence built, made entirely out of bamboo. The old one fell down while we were on vacation because of the torrential downpours. The only thing weaker than the structure of the fence itself was the work ethic of the students who built it for us. The fence was important for a number of reasons. We have goats that wander into our yard. Children from the school like to antagonize the dog and stand there and stare at us. It's a far more daunting task to brush your teeth in the morning when you have an audience. I struggle from performance anxiety with all the pressure and as we all know, a thorough brushing is always in order. Well, those children are a tour de force. They have been constantly throwing rocks at the dog, barking at him and stealing bamboo from our fence. Bamboozlers. If these children were in the states, they would have monkey leashes on them. Trust me. If you heard "how ah you!?" about 15 times a day and then see eyes peaking through the fence at you when you are hanging up underwear on the clothesline, you would also feel the urge to hurl a few expletives in English.
My dog is good. And by good, I mean he bit me. I was on the phone with my parents a few Sundays ago and he didn't want to come inside when I called. When I grabbed his leg, he pulled and I held on. Well, apparently it hurt him to pull away and he bit my palm, leaving a bloody puncture/gash. There were Mozambicans standing around watching and here I was, standing with blood dripping off of one hand and my phone in the other: multi-tasking at its worst. Good thing he got his rabies shot a while back. According to Ms. Manners, foaming at the mouth is not very becoming of a lady. At least seeing that the owner's dog even bites the owner is a good theft deterrent. I should have started screaming "Ele esta vicioso! Esta vicioso, eu digo!" (He is vicious! He is vicious, I say!") Then collapse to the ground in convulsions. I am just curious to see if my fifth grade forensics talent was just a fluke or if I should shirk the Peace Corps and move to L.A. My spider senses are telling me that it wouldn't be such a good idea.
My dog has gotten gigantic since I've been gone and more unruly. He is so ill-mannered that it's difficult to train him or even take him on walks. I tell him to come and he walks away. I tell him to sit and he licks himself. At least he's meeting me halfway on the sit. He has the attention span on a peanut. So far, he only knows "sit" and "act like a jerk." He broke his second choke collar. Second! I had to bribe him to come back to me by sprinkling saltines on the ground in front of me. Very Hansel and Gretel. I think he is going to grow tired of the saltines, so then I'll have to buy lemon cookies for him. And then he'll grow tired of those and I'll have to buy him hard-boiled eggs. At that point, I might as well start a college fund for him with all the money put toward bribes. I would palm him a 50 but his lack of opposable thumbs would make that transaction seem downright inhumane.
The other day, I was washing dishes in the back room of the house and I saw a little girl watching the dog through the fence. In one hand, she had her shoe, posed in prime shoe-throwing position. I called out for her to leave the dog alone because he was in the fence and wouldn't bother her. Well, who was I to know there was a hole in the fence? He ran out and misinterpreted her attention as playtime. He wasn't doing anything to her but existing and she threw her shoe at him. I walk out to the front of the house and she is standing there alone.
"He took my shoe."
Yep, she threw her shoe and Timba thought she was showering him with gifts. He picked it up, ran over to the shade of the police station bathroom and promptly began to gnaw on it. When I shook a bag of bread crumbs at him and shouted his name, he came running, leaving the little girl to hunt for her shoe for the next 15 minutes. Well, if you throw your shoe, you have to know that there is a chance you aren't going to get it back. Cause and effect, my dear.
School is going fine so far. I am teaching ninth grade this year, following most of my students from last year. I have all of my students who passed and my roommate's students who didn't pass. It's good seeing them all again after break. It's amazing how different they look. Apparently, I look different too. I was waiting for the obvious "teacher, you got fat!" and have them point out my skin's reaction to the abrupt changes in climate it has endured over the past two months. It's those everyday jabs I've grown accustomed to. However, I wasn't expecting "you got really white." I wasn't sure how to respond to that one. A short "sure did" and a shrug seemed to do the trick.
We have been helping at school a little bit. My roommate has a computer program to make schedules and is a master at it, so she did the teachers' schedules for the school with my occasional help. As a result, we had dibs on which times we'd teach at. We got out of teaching at night again. It's creepy to walk alone at night. Sure, I have an airhorn, pepperspray and a mean upper-cut thanks to my past interest in Tae Bo, but I could do without that discomfort of walking in the dark by myself.
Well, I hope everyone had a lovely Valentine's and a rip-roarin' Presidents' Day. I'm heading to the ocean later for the weekend for my birthday to hang out with friends. I promise to update this more often, Girl Scout's honor. I only made it to Junior status in the scouts until I submitted my resignation, but I like to think I can still lay claim. In all honesty, I only wanted to be a Junior so I could get that leprechaun-green vest. Juliette Low would be proud.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Monday, January 19, 2009
When You Wish Upon a Yeti
So we went on our DisneyWorld trip this last week. As much as I had been opposed to the trip in the beginning, I found myself starting to enjoy myself. Everything ran smoothly for the most part since my parents went the distance and bought a vacation package through a travel agent. It was four action-packed days of park-hopping and large crowds. Who would have thought that New Years is always a busy time for DisneyWorld? Not I. We went to all four of the theme parks (Magic Kingdom, Epcot, MGM Studios, and Animal Kingdom). We had direct transportation to and from a resort (albeit, the Motel 6 of the Disney resort experience – but still nice and clean) and a meal plan. Just thinking about that carrot cake brings back fond memories and gushing salivary glands.
It was interesting having to share a hotel room with my family, now that both my sister and I are in our mid-twenties. One thing is for certain and that is that nothing has changed. Except maybe the size of the bed. Whenever I had been forced to share the bed with my sister as a child, it had always seemed bigger. We would always fight over someone crossing the center line of the bed and I think I may have actually bitten her at one point. Since we’ve become adults, the bed seems to have shrunk to the size of an ill-fitting suit. We battled each other at night, as in the past, kicking and one of us hogging all the blankets. I can’t help it but I’m a thrasher. I wake up and I’m wrapped up tighter in my sheets than a Jimmie Dean sausage link. At one point, I physically pushed my sister’s face with my hand. I don’t really remember why. It’s not like I didn’t give a warning. I had even submitted a verbal disclaimer that I could not be held accountable for my actions when I was sleeping. As a result, she spent two nights sleeping on the floor until finally she resorted to a medicated form of sleep rather than risk a stiff back in the morning.
When we weren’t sleeping, we were constantly walking or waiting in lines. Walking is something that is difficult to accomplish when you have child strollers and children wearing backpack monkey leashes in every direction. There were these fancy little monkey shaped backpacks for children and the leash was cleverly disguised as the monkey’s tail. It was chaos at its closest definition. Don’t get me wrong. Kids are cool and all but not wild monkey leash children. As my sister pointed out when she saw a leashed child “that kid’s going to closeline us all if he takes off running.” I wonder if there is hope for an off-leash theme park. Because at DisneyWorld, I half-expected parents to pull out packages of string cheese and bite off bits to throw to their children when they behaved themselves and sat. Or maybe a squeaky toy shaped like a rolled up newspaper.
I got to see a few temper tantrums. I’m always severely disappointed in the tactics employed by children in order to get what they want. In my opinion, lying on the ground, kicking your feet and screaming so loud your skin turns the shade of a red M&M is not the most effective mode of communication. A little girl did that as I was waiting in line for my flight to Africa. Everyone looked at her with alarm and moved as close to the front of the line as possible, as if that would guarantee them not being seated next to the little banshee.
One of the best rides I went on was the new ride at Animal Kingdom, Expedition Everest. The roller coaster includes going backward and downhill in the dark and of all things, a yeti. The attention to detail was impressive, with a hiker’s lodge and a yeti museum to glance at while we wound through the ropes. When you were done with the ride, like all other rides, everyone was funneled out through the gift shop to stock up on souvenirs to be sold at next summer’s garage sale. One of their most prominent souvenirs was a stuffed yeti. It was basically a round white fur ball with feet and eyes. I was not impressed. The yeti appeared too genial. It could at least be growling or be gnawing on a dead deer carcass. The sweet, furry yeti would be like making the Loch Ness monster a character in Finding Nemo. It’s just a distortion of stories that originally, at their best, gave a reason for the production of the nightlight.
My sister and I split up from my parents each day because it just seemed easier to decide where to go when there were only two people chiming in on the decisions. Also, when together my parents tend to choose the presentations, rather than attractions, such as the American Adventure. That title is full of deception because I fell asleep faster than I do in church. I dozed off just as the soldiers were talking about how there was no food at Valley Forge. I fell asleep during the Lights, Motors, Action stunt show that involved live high-speed car chases and explosions. I fell asleep at the Country Bear Jamboree. They don’t deserve the name “Jamboree” because it was possibly the most boring bunch of bears I’ve ever laid my eyes on. Now if they had Cirque du Soleil bears, I definitely would have stayed awake.
While my sister and I wandered separate from our parents during the day, we sat down to a family meal every night. One night, we went out to eat at a place called The Brown Derby, based on the restaurant frequented by Hollywood stars during the golden years of cinema in Los Angeles. A little girl was sitting with her family at a table nearby and had a friendly, neighborhood yeti in her possession. Throughout dinner, she made the yeti dance and sway, occasionally sharing it with her siblings, but only under direct supervision. Before dinner came, I made a trip to the bathroom and the little girl and her siblings were in there too. Probably hopped up on cotton candy and lollipops shaped like Mickey Mouse’s head, the girls were singing to each other, each taking a turn with classic Disney tunes. One of the girls had the best lyric, belting out in her best Little Orphan Annie voice “when you wish upon a yeti!” The rest of the song was hummed but I found myself nodding to the beat while reaching for the soap dispenser.
Later on, after dinner, the singer/owner of the stuffed animal left the table with one of her sisters, leaving another little girl behind with the yeti and direct orders.
Raising her finger and wagging it in the air, she spoke to the younger sister.
“No touchies!”
The little sister stared at the yeti on the table in front of her, her face lingering inches away from his jovial grin. She nodded briefly in response but kept her gaze fixed on the yeti, like a dog staring at a snausage just out of its reach.
DisneyWorld was, overall, one of the top places I’ve ever been to people watch. There are foreigners, senior citizens in line for high-speed roller coasters, line gophers (a technical term we heard used by Disney workers for people who cut in line), overwhelming moms, and straight-up crazies. We even got to chat about what it’s like to work at Disney with a former Snow White while watching the Pixar Block Party Parade. She told us about how the characters, like Snow White, Cinderella and Jasmine, all need to have a reason ready why they need to leave when they have lines of people. For example, maybe Snow White needs to go bail Dopey out of jail for a drug possession charge. Also, Disney characters with heads are never allowed to remove them in the park. Apparently, Minnie Mouse once got pushed into a pond and was drowning, so she took off her head and she was fired as a result. Now it’s these types of things that should be on a backlot tour, not movie props from Lassie. It also would make for some excellent reality television. If you like that kind of thing.
Now, it’s back to reality. I survived the 17-hour flight from New York to Johannesburg, managing to be productive by watching three in-flight movies (Hancock, Mamma Mia and Baba Mama, in case you are curious), reading and cat-napping. It helps that I always pass out during take-off (another example of my mad sleeping skills), probably snoring with my mouth wide open. Maybe it’s the altitude change. I really can’t explain this superpower. It has a mind of its own. I had a couple of good seatmates who respected my personal bubble: a South African college student who discussed with me her love of the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History in Washington and an American guy heading to Senegal to study the effect of American hip-hop on music in Africa. He is going to teach kids how to break-dance and rap. Now that would be something to see.
I am back inMozambique now. We just had our mid-service conference and oodles of standard mid-service medical check-ups this last week. And later today, it’s back to Nampula for this gal. I had a great time at home during the holidays and I know it helped refuel me for my second year of work. I will miss everyone at home just like last year but word on the street is that the second year flies by even faster than the first one did.
It was interesting having to share a hotel room with my family, now that both my sister and I are in our mid-twenties. One thing is for certain and that is that nothing has changed. Except maybe the size of the bed. Whenever I had been forced to share the bed with my sister as a child, it had always seemed bigger. We would always fight over someone crossing the center line of the bed and I think I may have actually bitten her at one point. Since we’ve become adults, the bed seems to have shrunk to the size of an ill-fitting suit. We battled each other at night, as in the past, kicking and one of us hogging all the blankets. I can’t help it but I’m a thrasher. I wake up and I’m wrapped up tighter in my sheets than a Jimmie Dean sausage link. At one point, I physically pushed my sister’s face with my hand. I don’t really remember why. It’s not like I didn’t give a warning. I had even submitted a verbal disclaimer that I could not be held accountable for my actions when I was sleeping. As a result, she spent two nights sleeping on the floor until finally she resorted to a medicated form of sleep rather than risk a stiff back in the morning.
When we weren’t sleeping, we were constantly walking or waiting in lines. Walking is something that is difficult to accomplish when you have child strollers and children wearing backpack monkey leashes in every direction. There were these fancy little monkey shaped backpacks for children and the leash was cleverly disguised as the monkey’s tail. It was chaos at its closest definition. Don’t get me wrong. Kids are cool and all but not wild monkey leash children. As my sister pointed out when she saw a leashed child “that kid’s going to closeline us all if he takes off running.” I wonder if there is hope for an off-leash theme park. Because at DisneyWorld, I half-expected parents to pull out packages of string cheese and bite off bits to throw to their children when they behaved themselves and sat. Or maybe a squeaky toy shaped like a rolled up newspaper.
I got to see a few temper tantrums. I’m always severely disappointed in the tactics employed by children in order to get what they want. In my opinion, lying on the ground, kicking your feet and screaming so loud your skin turns the shade of a red M&M is not the most effective mode of communication. A little girl did that as I was waiting in line for my flight to Africa. Everyone looked at her with alarm and moved as close to the front of the line as possible, as if that would guarantee them not being seated next to the little banshee.
One of the best rides I went on was the new ride at Animal Kingdom, Expedition Everest. The roller coaster includes going backward and downhill in the dark and of all things, a yeti. The attention to detail was impressive, with a hiker’s lodge and a yeti museum to glance at while we wound through the ropes. When you were done with the ride, like all other rides, everyone was funneled out through the gift shop to stock up on souvenirs to be sold at next summer’s garage sale. One of their most prominent souvenirs was a stuffed yeti. It was basically a round white fur ball with feet and eyes. I was not impressed. The yeti appeared too genial. It could at least be growling or be gnawing on a dead deer carcass. The sweet, furry yeti would be like making the Loch Ness monster a character in Finding Nemo. It’s just a distortion of stories that originally, at their best, gave a reason for the production of the nightlight.
My sister and I split up from my parents each day because it just seemed easier to decide where to go when there were only two people chiming in on the decisions. Also, when together my parents tend to choose the presentations, rather than attractions, such as the American Adventure. That title is full of deception because I fell asleep faster than I do in church. I dozed off just as the soldiers were talking about how there was no food at Valley Forge. I fell asleep during the Lights, Motors, Action stunt show that involved live high-speed car chases and explosions. I fell asleep at the Country Bear Jamboree. They don’t deserve the name “Jamboree” because it was possibly the most boring bunch of bears I’ve ever laid my eyes on. Now if they had Cirque du Soleil bears, I definitely would have stayed awake.
While my sister and I wandered separate from our parents during the day, we sat down to a family meal every night. One night, we went out to eat at a place called The Brown Derby, based on the restaurant frequented by Hollywood stars during the golden years of cinema in Los Angeles. A little girl was sitting with her family at a table nearby and had a friendly, neighborhood yeti in her possession. Throughout dinner, she made the yeti dance and sway, occasionally sharing it with her siblings, but only under direct supervision. Before dinner came, I made a trip to the bathroom and the little girl and her siblings were in there too. Probably hopped up on cotton candy and lollipops shaped like Mickey Mouse’s head, the girls were singing to each other, each taking a turn with classic Disney tunes. One of the girls had the best lyric, belting out in her best Little Orphan Annie voice “when you wish upon a yeti!” The rest of the song was hummed but I found myself nodding to the beat while reaching for the soap dispenser.
Later on, after dinner, the singer/owner of the stuffed animal left the table with one of her sisters, leaving another little girl behind with the yeti and direct orders.
Raising her finger and wagging it in the air, she spoke to the younger sister.
“No touchies!”
The little sister stared at the yeti on the table in front of her, her face lingering inches away from his jovial grin. She nodded briefly in response but kept her gaze fixed on the yeti, like a dog staring at a snausage just out of its reach.
DisneyWorld was, overall, one of the top places I’ve ever been to people watch. There are foreigners, senior citizens in line for high-speed roller coasters, line gophers (a technical term we heard used by Disney workers for people who cut in line), overwhelming moms, and straight-up crazies. We even got to chat about what it’s like to work at Disney with a former Snow White while watching the Pixar Block Party Parade. She told us about how the characters, like Snow White, Cinderella and Jasmine, all need to have a reason ready why they need to leave when they have lines of people. For example, maybe Snow White needs to go bail Dopey out of jail for a drug possession charge. Also, Disney characters with heads are never allowed to remove them in the park. Apparently, Minnie Mouse once got pushed into a pond and was drowning, so she took off her head and she was fired as a result. Now it’s these types of things that should be on a backlot tour, not movie props from Lassie. It also would make for some excellent reality television. If you like that kind of thing.
Now, it’s back to reality. I survived the 17-hour flight from New York to Johannesburg, managing to be productive by watching three in-flight movies (Hancock, Mamma Mia and Baba Mama, in case you are curious), reading and cat-napping. It helps that I always pass out during take-off (another example of my mad sleeping skills), probably snoring with my mouth wide open. Maybe it’s the altitude change. I really can’t explain this superpower. It has a mind of its own. I had a couple of good seatmates who respected my personal bubble: a South African college student who discussed with me her love of the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History in Washington and an American guy heading to Senegal to study the effect of American hip-hop on music in Africa. He is going to teach kids how to break-dance and rap. Now that would be something to see.
I am back inMozambique now. We just had our mid-service conference and oodles of standard mid-service medical check-ups this last week. And later today, it’s back to Nampula for this gal. I had a great time at home during the holidays and I know it helped refuel me for my second year of work. I will miss everyone at home just like last year but word on the street is that the second year flies by even faster than the first one did.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Back in the USA
So I'm back in Eau Claire, Wisconsin, until January 8th. The first day was a bit of a shock to the system. It took a while to get off of Mozambican time and I hadn't managed to catch a wink of sleep on the 18 hour flight. As soon as I reached South Africa and everyone was speaking English, it felt like an alternate universe. People would say something and I would still be thinking of how I would respond in Portuguese. Hopefully I don't lose that in a month and a half. JFK was a good place to transition to American life. I bought myself a peppermint mocha chiller in the airport and thought to myself "welcome to America" while watching children with light-up tennis shoes and business men on cell phones. Only one word can sum it up - weird. I knew I was home though when I couldn't feel my face walking outside into the airport parking garage and I didn't have to sit above a herd of chickens on the drive to Wisconsin.
I had good news before I left Mozambique. I got my library grant proposal passed. This means that when I get back to Monapo in the middle of January, I need to start getting the secondary school library ready for renovation. We will be getting new bookshelves, desks, chairs, books, maps, a bulletin board, a filing cabinet, an HIV/AIDS mural and other security-enhancing features. Hopefully we can set the library up so that it's easier to research topics and have more space for the materials. Right now they have textbooks but not a lot more than that. I'm pretty excited to get that project started. It will be a lot of work but it'll be great to provide students with more resources and a better environment to study in.
I'm pretty excited about next year's projects and have been looking into getting material while I'm here in the U.S. I got a self-defense book to teach to my REDES girls - which is sure to produce quality stories in the future. I think they'll really be into it though and who knows when they'll need it. I am also going to try to get soccer balls, art supplies and just use the internet til my fingertips are sore.
Besides doing a bit of work though, it's amazing to be home for Christmas with friends and family. Both a lot and a few things change in one year. People look different, new buildings and businesses have sprouted in the city, a new president has been elected, new musicians and movies are all the rage. I still don't know what this Twilight and Robert Pattinson deal is all about. I love listening to the Christmas music, decorating the tree, putting up the lights and wrapping gifts. I really missed those things last year and realized how much I took the holidays for granted before. But this year, it's "A Lynum Christmas, Double Time." We are going on a family trip to DisneyWorld (I know) in January. We haven't taken a family trip for about eight or nine years so it should be interesting to see how the four of us coexist in a hotel room - which I'm thinking might be far more entertaining than anything Walt Disney could have thrown at a person. I just want to go on the Pirates of the Carribean ride. The trip promises to be anything but dull - especially since my sister gained my agreement to the trip by promising to tackle the Disney character of my choice.
I had good news before I left Mozambique. I got my library grant proposal passed. This means that when I get back to Monapo in the middle of January, I need to start getting the secondary school library ready for renovation. We will be getting new bookshelves, desks, chairs, books, maps, a bulletin board, a filing cabinet, an HIV/AIDS mural and other security-enhancing features. Hopefully we can set the library up so that it's easier to research topics and have more space for the materials. Right now they have textbooks but not a lot more than that. I'm pretty excited to get that project started. It will be a lot of work but it'll be great to provide students with more resources and a better environment to study in.
I'm pretty excited about next year's projects and have been looking into getting material while I'm here in the U.S. I got a self-defense book to teach to my REDES girls - which is sure to produce quality stories in the future. I think they'll really be into it though and who knows when they'll need it. I am also going to try to get soccer balls, art supplies and just use the internet til my fingertips are sore.
Besides doing a bit of work though, it's amazing to be home for Christmas with friends and family. Both a lot and a few things change in one year. People look different, new buildings and businesses have sprouted in the city, a new president has been elected, new musicians and movies are all the rage. I still don't know what this Twilight and Robert Pattinson deal is all about. I love listening to the Christmas music, decorating the tree, putting up the lights and wrapping gifts. I really missed those things last year and realized how much I took the holidays for granted before. But this year, it's "A Lynum Christmas, Double Time." We are going on a family trip to DisneyWorld (I know) in January. We haven't taken a family trip for about eight or nine years so it should be interesting to see how the four of us coexist in a hotel room - which I'm thinking might be far more entertaining than anything Walt Disney could have thrown at a person. I just want to go on the Pirates of the Carribean ride. The trip promises to be anything but dull - especially since my sister gained my agreement to the trip by promising to tackle the Disney character of my choice.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Hand-saw, meet blisters. Blisters, meet hand-saw.
Now that school is done, I can focus my attention on an important secondary project: building a doghouse. It’s not going to be too stunning but anything is better than stuffing the dog like a sausage into its casing when it’s time for him to go in his kennel. I never realized how hard a hand-saw is to use. It’s a workout in itself trying to saw through the board. Sometimes, I feel like it might just be easier to use my teeth or jump on the board to try to break it in half. It definitely makes me respect all the woodworking machinery my dad uses. At 5:30 this morning, I had never wanted a planer and electric saw more in my life (a blister away from putting it on my christmas list, in fact). It’s not that an electric saw doesn’t exist here in the community. It would just be really heavy to carry the wood to the carpenter and not to mention, I would get about a million comments and laughs from staring people. Besides, there’s the glory of saying I did the job myself. Or I might end up in complete, embarrassed denial.
My bigger, more important secondary project is working on and updating the REDES curriculum manual. REDES is the girls’ group I work with. Right now, the manual is good. It has information about HIV/AIDS, the human body and puberty, rights, nutrition and hygiene, job opportunities, etc. Like I said, it’s good but the problem is that the activities aren’t that concrete. The girls have rarely been learning any new skills but are expected to discuss what they think about issues. Don’t get me wrong; them talking about important issues facing women is paramount but it would be good to give them skills that they can carry with them the rest of their lives while holding the discussion.
So here’s my vision. There will be four topic areas for REDES groups across Mozambique to choose from. The ones I’ve come up with so far are 1) Culture, Arts, and Sports, 2) Volunteerism and Community Action, 3) Career Preparation and Technology, and 4) Income and Agricultural Production. Each group will pick one of these categories to focus on and do activities from the manual that go along that line. For example, in Volunteerism and Community Action, the girls will become active through literacy programs, garbage collection, a big sisters’ club, etc. In Career Preparation and Technology, geared more towards older members, the girls learn how to write a resume, how to open a bank account, the etiquette of professionalism, computer skills and typing, etc. Income and Agricultural Production, the girls learn how to start and maintain a machamba (large garden/crops), create quality goods to sell and how to budget their money. Culture, Arts, and Sports is exactly what it sounds like. The girls sing, dance, paint murals, hold soccer and basketball tournaments or leagues, stage theater performances about women’s issues, among other things. We are having a meeting in Maputo before I head home and this is on the agenda so hopefully we can come up with concrete ideas of topic areas then. Until then, I’m just throwing ideas around.
The problem with working on the manual is that it requires a lot of internet research, something I’m not capable of here. So when I’m back in the states in less than a month for Christmas break (*pumping my fist in the air*), that’s what I’ll be doing on my parents’ internet while watching Conan O’Brian at night. Hopefully, we will get help from an NGO or two in the structure of the manual and ideas for projects and activities. There is also the matter of translating the manual to Portuguese – no small task. But right now the manual only exists in Portuguese and I remember when I first got to site and my Portuguese was still at the same level as a toddler – so, needless to say, it will be nice to have in both languages.
I still can’t believe I go home to the U.S. in four weeks. It will be a culture shock. Friends of mine who have already gone back for weddings or family events said that it’s a shock the first day and then it’s back to normal again. It will be weird to have so many options. You want peanut butter? Okay, there’s a sale on it, aisle five. You want to watch the news in English? No problem, every channel is in English and your parents have upgraded to 20 channels since you’ve left. You want to take a shower? Go ahead there, buddy. You get two choices – hot OR cold! Honestly though, since I haven’t lived with that stuff for over a year now, I don’t feel a desperate longing for them. You start to feel kind of detached from it. Sure, you enjoy it when you have it but you can do without. You put butter between your bread. You listen to your iPod instead of watch TV (since I don’t have a TV). You stop heating water for your bucket bath and just deal with the cold shock to the system every day.
Sometimes I imagine what my students would think if they saw the United States. I constantly hear “if I go to America, I will never come back to Mozambique.” It's sad when they say that because besides the poverty, disease and lack of job opportunities here, this country is remarkably beautiful in so many ways. People here live in the most difficult of circumstances and yet they have a smile on their face every day. They are the ones who really know how to live. Not us. They aren’t tied to their electronic knick-knacks or credit cards. They are tied to their families and their culture. Children wake up at 5:00 in the morning to walk with their big brothers or sisters to go cart water. Everyone sings loudly, not caring what they sound like, and everyone dances like no one’s watching. Men sit around drinking maheu (this nonalcoholic drink – I don’t even know how to describe the taste), playing a game similar to Mancala in the market, just for the sake of enjoying each others’ company. Little children cling to the brilliantly colored capulanas their mothers are wearing and yell “da-da!” to acknowledge passers-by. Women pound cassava or peanuts outside their homes by the light of a candle, their family or neighbors sitting with them to chat. That sense of community is beautiful and something I feel privileged to have seen first-hand.
My bigger, more important secondary project is working on and updating the REDES curriculum manual. REDES is the girls’ group I work with. Right now, the manual is good. It has information about HIV/AIDS, the human body and puberty, rights, nutrition and hygiene, job opportunities, etc. Like I said, it’s good but the problem is that the activities aren’t that concrete. The girls have rarely been learning any new skills but are expected to discuss what they think about issues. Don’t get me wrong; them talking about important issues facing women is paramount but it would be good to give them skills that they can carry with them the rest of their lives while holding the discussion.
So here’s my vision. There will be four topic areas for REDES groups across Mozambique to choose from. The ones I’ve come up with so far are 1) Culture, Arts, and Sports, 2) Volunteerism and Community Action, 3) Career Preparation and Technology, and 4) Income and Agricultural Production. Each group will pick one of these categories to focus on and do activities from the manual that go along that line. For example, in Volunteerism and Community Action, the girls will become active through literacy programs, garbage collection, a big sisters’ club, etc. In Career Preparation and Technology, geared more towards older members, the girls learn how to write a resume, how to open a bank account, the etiquette of professionalism, computer skills and typing, etc. Income and Agricultural Production, the girls learn how to start and maintain a machamba (large garden/crops), create quality goods to sell and how to budget their money. Culture, Arts, and Sports is exactly what it sounds like. The girls sing, dance, paint murals, hold soccer and basketball tournaments or leagues, stage theater performances about women’s issues, among other things. We are having a meeting in Maputo before I head home and this is on the agenda so hopefully we can come up with concrete ideas of topic areas then. Until then, I’m just throwing ideas around.
The problem with working on the manual is that it requires a lot of internet research, something I’m not capable of here. So when I’m back in the states in less than a month for Christmas break (*pumping my fist in the air*), that’s what I’ll be doing on my parents’ internet while watching Conan O’Brian at night. Hopefully, we will get help from an NGO or two in the structure of the manual and ideas for projects and activities. There is also the matter of translating the manual to Portuguese – no small task. But right now the manual only exists in Portuguese and I remember when I first got to site and my Portuguese was still at the same level as a toddler – so, needless to say, it will be nice to have in both languages.
I still can’t believe I go home to the U.S. in four weeks. It will be a culture shock. Friends of mine who have already gone back for weddings or family events said that it’s a shock the first day and then it’s back to normal again. It will be weird to have so many options. You want peanut butter? Okay, there’s a sale on it, aisle five. You want to watch the news in English? No problem, every channel is in English and your parents have upgraded to 20 channels since you’ve left. You want to take a shower? Go ahead there, buddy. You get two choices – hot OR cold! Honestly though, since I haven’t lived with that stuff for over a year now, I don’t feel a desperate longing for them. You start to feel kind of detached from it. Sure, you enjoy it when you have it but you can do without. You put butter between your bread. You listen to your iPod instead of watch TV (since I don’t have a TV). You stop heating water for your bucket bath and just deal with the cold shock to the system every day.
Sometimes I imagine what my students would think if they saw the United States. I constantly hear “if I go to America, I will never come back to Mozambique.” It's sad when they say that because besides the poverty, disease and lack of job opportunities here, this country is remarkably beautiful in so many ways. People here live in the most difficult of circumstances and yet they have a smile on their face every day. They are the ones who really know how to live. Not us. They aren’t tied to their electronic knick-knacks or credit cards. They are tied to their families and their culture. Children wake up at 5:00 in the morning to walk with their big brothers or sisters to go cart water. Everyone sings loudly, not caring what they sound like, and everyone dances like no one’s watching. Men sit around drinking maheu (this nonalcoholic drink – I don’t even know how to describe the taste), playing a game similar to Mancala in the market, just for the sake of enjoying each others’ company. Little children cling to the brilliantly colored capulanas their mothers are wearing and yell “da-da!” to acknowledge passers-by. Women pound cassava or peanuts outside their homes by the light of a candle, their family or neighbors sitting with them to chat. That sense of community is beautiful and something I feel privileged to have seen first-hand.
Friday, October 3, 2008
No more teachers, no more books...wait a second
School is done! I just have tests next week and then hand back the tests and I'm home-free for the year for the most part. I played a game with my students. It was just basic trivia of geography and English practice and I divided them into groups - stole the idea from my roommate. I made them each come up with names for their groups and they were quite creative. Superman. Batman. Underwear. Akon. G-Unit. Rice. Eggs. And my own personal creation for a team that couldn't think of one - I don't know. The game was going very well despite the kids not knowing basic facts - like what is the capital of South Africa or successfully managing to name the 10 provinces of Mozambique. It got out of hand a few times. They were supposed to write down the answers in their groups and then run up to me to hand them over to read. The winners would get candy. It became an all-out scrap. One boy got his shirt ripped. When they all ran up to hand me the sheets, they'd thrust them in my face and literally take my hand and place their papers in it. Imagine having 15 students surrounding you, pushing each other. I feared for my life. And laughed a lot. So when it got too out of hand with some classes, I did what any sane teacher would do. I erased all their names off the board, wrote myself as the winner and took a piece of candy, ripped it open and popped it in my mouth, declaring it to be delicious and savory. And then I left.
I was walking to visit friends today and a man was walking behind me. I said my usual 'bom dia' and kept walking at my speedy American pace. Well, he took that as a sign to continue the conversation. He asked what I knew in Macua and I told him I knew how to say 'I'm not your wife.' So what does the intelligent young man say? 'You don't want to marry a Mozambican?' I told him that I don't want to marry anyone right now. So he said 'I would really like to see the United States.' Haha! Smooth. So he was basically saying marrying an American was only for traveling and living in the United States. Be still, my heart.
I let a girl take a test this morning because she missed it. She showed me the evidence of hospital receipts and then I let her take a seat and do the test. Well, she couldn't think of some of the words and asked me for help. I told her she just needed to translate them. I went back in the house and was standing at the kitchen window to see a couple of seventh-grade girls smuggling in an english book for her to look up the words! Obviously, I went out and confiscated it. Seriously? I gave another girl a falta vermelha for sassing me in class. I told her she had a bad attitude. When I told her to leave, she just moved to another spot, thinking I wouldn't remember her. I told her 'I wasn't born yesterday and I'm not stupid. But you are if you think I don't know who you are.' So she got up and left...at a painstaking swagger, laughing and chatting with her friends on the way out. She even gave me the grand finale of a sarcastic sneer walking out. I got the last sarcastic sneer though when I borrowed a red pen to write down her number. That's the worst discipline you can give a student. She deserved it for being disrespectful but I doubt she really cares. I can guarantee you that she wouldn't behave that way for a Mozambican teacher.
But...I have now been in Mozambique for one year! Holla! It's been a lesson thus far and I'm sure I'll just keep learning new things - good and bad - for the next 14 months.
Hope all's well with everyone! Enjoy the apple orchards and fall weather! It's getting hotter here. I am starting to sit in one place now. In front of my fan.
I was walking to visit friends today and a man was walking behind me. I said my usual 'bom dia' and kept walking at my speedy American pace. Well, he took that as a sign to continue the conversation. He asked what I knew in Macua and I told him I knew how to say 'I'm not your wife.' So what does the intelligent young man say? 'You don't want to marry a Mozambican?' I told him that I don't want to marry anyone right now. So he said 'I would really like to see the United States.' Haha! Smooth. So he was basically saying marrying an American was only for traveling and living in the United States. Be still, my heart.
I let a girl take a test this morning because she missed it. She showed me the evidence of hospital receipts and then I let her take a seat and do the test. Well, she couldn't think of some of the words and asked me for help. I told her she just needed to translate them. I went back in the house and was standing at the kitchen window to see a couple of seventh-grade girls smuggling in an english book for her to look up the words! Obviously, I went out and confiscated it. Seriously? I gave another girl a falta vermelha for sassing me in class. I told her she had a bad attitude. When I told her to leave, she just moved to another spot, thinking I wouldn't remember her. I told her 'I wasn't born yesterday and I'm not stupid. But you are if you think I don't know who you are.' So she got up and left...at a painstaking swagger, laughing and chatting with her friends on the way out. She even gave me the grand finale of a sarcastic sneer walking out. I got the last sarcastic sneer though when I borrowed a red pen to write down her number. That's the worst discipline you can give a student. She deserved it for being disrespectful but I doubt she really cares. I can guarantee you that she wouldn't behave that way for a Mozambican teacher.
But...I have now been in Mozambique for one year! Holla! It's been a lesson thus far and I'm sure I'll just keep learning new things - good and bad - for the next 14 months.
Hope all's well with everyone! Enjoy the apple orchards and fall weather! It's getting hotter here. I am starting to sit in one place now. In front of my fan.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Stressed Out
Oh, where to begin with this week?! We'll go in chronological order. Thursday morning I fired our empregada, Lucrecia. She had just gotten too comfortable and we suspected her of stealing a few things. She didn't even deny anything but accepted the pay I gave her for a third of the month, said thank you and walked out the door. It was actually a startlingly easy firing. The bad part about having fired her is that now I need to find someone to take care of the dog while I'm home over christmas. That is not an easy task to find someone you can trust enough to give the keys to your house or to ensure that they are going to do the job correctly.
That same day, I had to give my second exam of the trimester to students. I made three students cry when I gave them a zero for cheating. They are just absolutely ridiculous. I don't know why, but before, I used to have pity for them. That's why I let them use their notebooks. I've grown tired of that now and am giving them a lesson from the school of hard knocks. If you don't study, you don't pass. It's as simple as that. The students don't see why cheating is bad. They think talking during tests is okay and that sitting on your notebook to conceal it is standard as well. I wore the dark sunglasses but it didn't help that much. When you are one side of the room, the other side is cheating and vice versa. The hardest part is that any kind of study habits you try to teach the students is undone by Mozambican teachers because they permit cheating and will likely just raise the grades anyway to let the students pass. It frustrates me to no end. The system just seems to be going through the motions, without educating a single child properly. It's something I'll never get used to.
Just yesterday, I was about to leave our house when one of the winners of our FBLM (Future Business Leaders of Mozambique) competition came to speak with me. He and his partner had a plan to build a lunchonette close to the chapa stop in our town. There had originally been three people in the group. The girl rarely came to meetings and when she did, she just sat there and said nothing. After the group won, we found out she wasn't in the right grade to participate and she was only in the group because she was Felix's girlfriend, a member of the group. So, we kicked her out. Well, the other member left in the two person group came to me and told me that Felix had used some of the money we had distributed to them to start a business ($1,000) and gave 3,000 meticais ($120) to his girlfriend. He also used some of the money to start his own little reed bar where he just sells cabanga - homemade booze. He did all of this, careless of what his partner thought. His partner (the one who came to me) wanted to stick with the plan. So I went to the bar and told him that he needed to correct what he had done wrong and how it wasn't fair to his friend to be doing this to him. I also told him that money from FBLM is not for starting a bar so that men can get drunk and go home and beat their wives and children. I was so angry that I had to just walk away from him but I think I succeeded in making him feel bad. I never thought he'd turn out to be such a little punk. It's really disheartening that someone would do that with money that was supposed to help them lead a successful life - not destroy a friendship and become corrupt. They're both coming to our house tomorrow for some kind of mediation over this problem.
That same day, I had to give my second exam of the trimester to students. I made three students cry when I gave them a zero for cheating. They are just absolutely ridiculous. I don't know why, but before, I used to have pity for them. That's why I let them use their notebooks. I've grown tired of that now and am giving them a lesson from the school of hard knocks. If you don't study, you don't pass. It's as simple as that. The students don't see why cheating is bad. They think talking during tests is okay and that sitting on your notebook to conceal it is standard as well. I wore the dark sunglasses but it didn't help that much. When you are one side of the room, the other side is cheating and vice versa. The hardest part is that any kind of study habits you try to teach the students is undone by Mozambican teachers because they permit cheating and will likely just raise the grades anyway to let the students pass. It frustrates me to no end. The system just seems to be going through the motions, without educating a single child properly. It's something I'll never get used to.
Just yesterday, I was about to leave our house when one of the winners of our FBLM (Future Business Leaders of Mozambique) competition came to speak with me. He and his partner had a plan to build a lunchonette close to the chapa stop in our town. There had originally been three people in the group. The girl rarely came to meetings and when she did, she just sat there and said nothing. After the group won, we found out she wasn't in the right grade to participate and she was only in the group because she was Felix's girlfriend, a member of the group. So, we kicked her out. Well, the other member left in the two person group came to me and told me that Felix had used some of the money we had distributed to them to start a business ($1,000) and gave 3,000 meticais ($120) to his girlfriend. He also used some of the money to start his own little reed bar where he just sells cabanga - homemade booze. He did all of this, careless of what his partner thought. His partner (the one who came to me) wanted to stick with the plan. So I went to the bar and told him that he needed to correct what he had done wrong and how it wasn't fair to his friend to be doing this to him. I also told him that money from FBLM is not for starting a bar so that men can get drunk and go home and beat their wives and children. I was so angry that I had to just walk away from him but I think I succeeded in making him feel bad. I never thought he'd turn out to be such a little punk. It's really disheartening that someone would do that with money that was supposed to help them lead a successful life - not destroy a friendship and become corrupt. They're both coming to our house tomorrow for some kind of mediation over this problem.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Chalkboard Riots and a Dramatic Escape
Whenever I hand out my visual aids to students when I am done with them, it is a free-for-all. We’re talking about hands grabbing, elbows shoving and kids boxing out like its fifth grade basketball. One of these days, one of my students is going to get a concussion for a magazine cut-out of Roger Federer playing tennis. They are just as enthusiastic when I let them fill out exercises on the board with chalk. In one of my classes, I have a really small student. Picture the size of a second-grader. He’s particularly adorable because he dons high-water pants with a tucked-in shirt. He is intelligent though and always races to the front to get the chalk before anyone else can. I admire his audacity. Well, this last week, as usual, he got to the chalk before everyone else. However, once everyone else got up there, they mobbed him and he was practically impaled on the chalk ledge. I envision his face was smooshed up against the board much like that deer I hit with my learner’s permit’s face was smooshed up against my driver’s side window.
He is funny though because as a tall person, I am capable of using the entire board quite easily. As a result, I write exercises at the top of the board as well. One day he really wanted to complete the exercises but he was too short. One of my older students marched up to the front of the room, grabbed the little one around the waist and hoisted him up to write at the top of the board. When he was done, the little boy dusted the chalk off of his hands and announced “chega.” “Enough.” And the bigger boy put him down. Gotta love teaching some days.
I was sitting at school the other day and a little girl was getting water at the spigot in the schoolyard. Kids here, as soon as they can walk, are expected to do most chores at home. And they do. There’s no such thing as talking back to your parents here. At five am, walking on the road, you can easily find young children yawning and sweeping the front yard with branches. This girl was probably about that age. When people here carry things on their heads, especially water, they usually put a capulana coil between their heads and the thing they are carrying because it eases the pain of carrying a heavy load. This little girl would put the capulana coil on her head and reach down to pick up the jug of water. As soon as she would get the jug of water almost on her head, the coil would slip off. So she stood there with the jug on her head and the coil on the ground, looking as though she was trying to figure out how to make it work. I went over and picked up the coil, lifted the jug off her head and placed the coil under the jug on her head. She just smiled at me, grabbed a hold of the water jug with one arm and headed for her house. Moments like that make my days.
I had an interesting encounter with a colleague. I was at our house with my REDES girls when he came to the gate and stood there. When I noticed him, I said “yes?” and he was like “well, can’t I come in?” I agreed and let him come in. The first words out of his mouth were “do you have any whiskey?” I told him no. “Okay, beer.” I told him no. “All right then. A soda.” I said no and that we only had water. So he agreed, making me serve him in my own house when we have never been friends. I have no problem with hospitality. I DO have a problem with hospitality that’s forced upon me by disrespectful people. So I got him his water and while he waited out front, he proceeded to flirt with my 13 or 14 year-old REDES girls. He was completely inappropriate and I could smell the alcohol on him – at eight o’clock in the morning. He finally left and I saw him later at school and decided to say something. I told him that we didn’t want him coming to our house, asking for alcohol, especially when we had students there, and that we don’t drink and we don’t want students to think that we do. He nodded and said OK. But then two seconds later, he said “what would you like then?” It made me want to pull my hair out. It’s difficult to deal with someone who doesn’t see their behavior as a bad example or just plain doesn’t care about how inappropriate they appear.
Right now it’s Ramadan. That means that half of my students who are Muslin are fasting from five in the morning until 5:30 at night. They can’t eat or drink water. They can’t even chew on a pencil, according to my students. I couldn’t imagine fasting here. The sun is brutal. Some kids have to walk 45 minutes to get to school when the sun is at its hottest. Not to mention, the kids have to do manual labor at home, carting water and doing normal chores. I can’t even go half an hour without drinking water. As a result of bellies with even less food in them, my students are crankier than ever. I always bring water with me to school because I talk so much and I now feel required to take swigs on the sly. No one wants to be there during the last time of school because they want to be home with food in front of them when 5:30 rolls around. School ends at 5:35 – if students stay that long, which rarely happens.
I went and sat outside Nia’s class last week, waiting for her to get done with classes. She wouldn’t let her students leave until they’d shown her that they had written their work down in their notebooks. Some students hadn’t and with her blocking the door, they were trying to sweet-talk their way out. One of them, a fasting girl, started crying and to avoid having to do the work in order to leave, escaped out a window. She’s quite the drama queen. She told me that she aspires to be a flight attendant because, according to her, flight attendants are multi-lingual and very worldly. And she also told me, in her throaty voice that sounds like she smokes a couple packs a day, that I should adopt her. I just laughed and shook my head.
And now for some pictures of my bacterial throat abcess from back in February. Was not fun at all then but now whenever I look at these pics, I can't help but have a hearty laugh.
BEFORE
AFTER
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