Chamussas

"Professora Helena, you are getting too skinny," my director announced today as he walked by the house. I was sitting outside with my roommate, Redi, and a couple of the other teachers from school, chatting as the sun went down.

Redi laughed, and under her breath whispered, "You can tell he's been drinking. He only makes jokes after a beer or two...otherwise he never talks."

I snickered.

"Don't you think she's getting too skinny?" he demanded of the others. "We can't send her back to America like this. She's wasting away. People are going to think she hated Mavudzi-Ponte! That we didn't take care of her!"

I laughed and assured my director that I was neither starving nor unhappy. "I love it here," I said, "When I go home everyone is going to think Mavudzi-Ponte is the nicest village on the planet."

Still, less than an hour later, I looked up from my novel to see my roommate striding into the house with a purpose.

"I've decided to start making and selling chamussas," she said.

"Oh?" I asked.

"Yes. I want to make some extra money. I'll sell them for 2 meticais each."

Now, I don't know if my director and my roommate are in cahoots, but the facts are thus:

1. I LOVE chamussas. They are possibly one of my favorite snacks in Mozambique.
2. Redi makes awesome chamussas.
3. 2 mets per chamussa is way cheap. In Namaacha, the price was 5! Now, I can eat 13 chamussas for $1! Score.

Long story short: My director can rejoice, because I'm about to get ridiculously fat.

Chamussas. (a.k.a. samosas)