Saying Goodbye to a Friend

Disclaimer: If you get queasy or emotional, skip this post. Just don't read it.

When the chapa dropped me off at my new house on my first day here, I was nervous. I was all alone in an empty house and I didn't know anyone. I was overwhelmed.

That first day, as I sat glumly on my Peace Corps-issued trunk in my barren living room, wondering if I'd just made a huge mistake, I got attacked by a tiny, energetic, happy fur-ball.

Poppy.

Even though it was the first time we'd met, she greeted me like we were old friends. She made me feel instantly more at home. Poppy was my first friend in Mavudzi-Ponte.

This morning, I had to say goodbye to her.

Poppy was supposed to be having puppies, but she had complications when she went into labor. My neighbors tried to help, but she clearly needed surgery. This being rural Africa, there are no on-call veterinarians available. There was nothing I could do but watch and wait.

All I could do was sit with her and stroke her head. She delivered two puppies, both stillborn, and got progressively worse as the evening wore on. I stayed up with her all night, sitting on the kitchen floor, holding her head in my lap and mopping up the pints of blood that she was losing. She just kept staring at me, her big brown eyes filled with love and pain.

It was the longest night of my life.

This morning, she was just barely hanging on. My neighbor came over and offered to carry her outside so she could spent her last moments sitting under the tree she used to nap under. I said goodbye to Poppy and thanked him. He gathered Poppy up and carried her away.

It's a nice day outside. Sunny. I hope her last moments were happy. She deserves it -- Poppy was a wonderful dog, and I will never forget her. I hope she's at peace now.

Rest in peace, Poptart.

Beer Olympics

Most of the time at site, I am by myself. I entertain myself by reading books, playing guitar, watching movies and contemplating the philosophy of life (i.e. napping).

And yet last weekend, instead of sitting by myself on the floor, eating cold xima and tomatoes, I found myself here:

Vilankulos

Isn't it beautiful? Definitely a drastic change of scenery from Tete, where it hasn't rained since the end of January (Our "river" is now a trickle of mud.) 

You're looking at the beautiful coastal town of Vilankulos, in the south of Mozambique. Last weekend, volunteers flocked to Vilankulos from all corners of the country to participate in a Moz PCV tradition that goes back many years: Beer Olympics. 

This is the highlight of the year for many volunteers. Scoff at our immaturity if you want, but I challenge you to spend a weekend wallowing in the tranquil turquoise waters of the Indian Ocean, cold beer in your hand and surrounded by far-away friends, and not think it's the closest thing to heaven since the Cheesecake Milkshake. By far the best part of the weekend is getting to see friends, especially those that live in far-away provinces.

Everyone's excited to see each other! (Photos by Lisa B.)

While seeing friends is the priority, Beer Olympics itself is pretty important too. Naturally, during the only time of the year when all the volunteers from the far reaches of the country finally get together in one place, we divide up and have an epic battle.

During Beer Olympics, the three regions compete in beer-related events (relay race, table games, etc.) The projected winner by far this year was South -- having the biggest team and regular uh... let's call them team practices. My region, Central, won last year but came in this year as an underdog due to our incredibly small team size. Undaunted by the doubters, we in Central went in with our heads held high, chanting our slogan, "Cohesão!" (Cohesion) and did our very best.

Central fights for a repeat victory.

Well wouldn't you know it, Central won! Not only did we win, we swept the floor with the competition. It was a pretty satisfying victory and we celebrated like crazy. Here I am expressing my joy with Wendy, Szasha and Lisa.

Central Cohesão!

That monkey, by the way, is the Beer Olympics trophy. He's got spectacles and a beer on his head. The region who wins gets to keep it in their office for the year, so the monkey will continue to reside in the Chimoio Peace Corps office for the foreseeable future. We're looking forward to having him as a permanent resident next year when we win our third victory.

While this was possibly the most fun I've had since coming to Mozambique, the weekend wasn't without its trials. First of all, I got a huge series of bites from something living in my mattress, making my legs swollen, itchy and red. Then, one evening while we were playing trivia, someone snuck into the dormitories and stole a bunch of stuff, including my phone, mp3 player, and money. Unwilling to let this crush my high spirits, I accepted the loss and put on a smile. But later that evening, when I came down with a slight fever, I gave up and went to bed early.

Still, trials aside I had a wonderful time. I already can't wait for next year's Beer Olympics. I also have a renewed sense of gratitude that I live in a region with such great people. We do live up to our cheer -- we're a very close-knit, cohesive group. We look out for each other.

Now, anytime I am having a hard day, I'm just going to close my eyes and think of Vilankulos. The next Beer Olympic is less than a year away...that's not so long.

Paradise.

REDES Conference

Peace Corps volunteers are expected to get involved in secondary projects outside of their primary function during their service. Often times, secondary projects are where you can really delve into your interests and use your specific talents. One of the projects that I'm starting to work on is REDES, or Raparigas em Desenvolvimento, Educação, e Saude, which is "a national network of girls clubs in Mozambique that promote girls’ empowerment and reduce their vulnerability to HIV through gender awareness activities, reproductive health and HIV prevention messages, technical skills-building, and planning for the future." My roommate and REDES counterpart, Redi, is already deeply involved in REDES and we have an established group. Some groups are run by PCVs, some groups are run jointly, and some groups don't have a volunteer involved at all.

The location of our conference in gorgeous Chimoio.

Two weekends ago, Redi and I packed up and headed south to Chimoio, for a regional REDES conference. The purpose of the conference was to train new members of REDES so they can successfully lead their own groups.

It was nice to get out of Tete for a while, especially since I had an official excuse to miss conselho de notas at school (widely known to be mind-numbingly awful). Even better, I was able to hitch a ride with a Peace Corps vehicle straight to the ADPP campus where we were staying!

Facilitators Wendy (left) and Joanna (right), and national REDES coordinator Mike (center)

Sessions, games and icebreakers.

The conference went great! My roommate has a leadership role in the REDES organization, so she helped facilitate some of the sessions. We talked about how to start and fund a REDES group, learned how to budget for and plan workshops and trocas, and discussed issues facing girls in Mozambique today, including HIV/AIDS, pregnancy, women's equality, and education. There was much discussion, some debate, and lots of game playing. And yes, that's my roommate in the top left putting a condom on a banana... it's super fun to be at a conference with the REDES ladies, because the are all such divas. No day is complete without a song and a dance party at the end.

On the last day, we had some time to plan our provincial workshops, which give the girls in our respective groups a chance to meet each other, teach each other something new, and go on an exciting adventure to another town. Szasha and I and our respective counterparts are working with the other REDES groups in Tete to plan a workshop in the next couple of months. Our REDES girls are already so excited!

It's exciting to be at a point in my Peace Corps service where I can start thinking about secondary projects that I want to do. I am really looking forward to working with Redi on our REDES group, and I am also hoping to get involved with a project called Books for Africa as part of a greater effort to renovate our school library and get a computer lab up and running. That's a little further down the road, through.

Well, that's about it for REDES. It was a great conference, I got to hang out with my roommate and other PCVs, we got a lot done... what else could you ask for?

Linda

What do you think the top global killer diseases are? Cancer? AIDS? Heart problems? In the United States, we don't think about malaria much. We have that luxury because malaria was eradicated in the states decades ago. However, the developing world isn't quite so fortunate -- malaria is still a huge problem here, and tops Mozambiques chart for national killers.

A few months ago, a new girl called Linda started living with the family next door to mine. "She's staying here a while, because her mother's sick with malaria," my friend Páscoa told me. A couple of days passed, then a couple of weeks. A while later, the whole family left unexpectedly for a weekend. Upon their return, I asked where they had gone. "We were at a funeral," Páscoa said, "Linda's mother died."

That's how it came to be that Linda permanently moved in next door. I'm really sad about her mom, but I'm also happy that she moved here because Linda is one awesome kid. She's always laughing, smiling, cracking jokes...  she likes to draw pictures to decorate my living room wall and can't eat enough peanut butter.

When Linda got sick a few weeks later, I wasn't too worried. Kids are always getting sick and getting better again. But after a few days, Linda didn't seem to be getting any better. They took her to the health center and confirmed malaria. Unfortunately, there was no medicine available for a week, so Linda had no choice but to wait.

I have never seen a more startling transformation. Within a few days, gone was the girl who liked to chase Poppy around the complex. She was replaced by a ghost of Linda, tiny and shriveled, curled up on the mat and barely even recognizing the outside world. She slept for hours on end. When she was awake, she did not talk or eat or smile. When I left for my conference last week, I wasn't sure if Linda was going to be here when I got back. I hoped.

This is the reality of malaria. It's an epidemic plaguing Africa, decimating the population and causing serious impediment to efforts in development. It kills hundreds of thousands of people -- most of them children in Africa -- every year. It's terrorizing Africa. It's part of life here.

Thankfully, when I walked into the teachers complex a few days ago after getting back from my trip, a happy and healthy Linda bounded up to say hi, smiling and chattering just like she used to. I was so incredibly relieved.

This story has a happy ending. This is at least one child malaria didn't take from us. Unfortunately, a huge number of other children, just as deserving of life, are not so lucky.

Linda (Center)

Today is World Malaria Day. This post is part of Stomp Out Malaria's Blog About Malaria Month.

Trimester One: Check!

Well, I've survived my first trimester in Mozambique. That means I'm already 1/6 done with my teaching here -- hard to believe, because it's gone by so fast! A few weeks ago, I wrote about how frustrating the end-of-trimester process is -- canceled classes, changed schedules, surprise days off... very hard to plan your life. However, somehow I managed to get it all together and do indeed have grades for all my students.

Provincial exams were a mess. The English exam was full of mistakes, the reading comprehension made absolutely no sense (I don't think I would have passed...) and there was material on there that my kids were sorely unprepared for.  Though logically I know it's irrational, since I'm not psychic and can't predict what's on the test, I felt very guilty that so many of my kids failed. While they were taking the English test, they all looked up at me with these big sad eyes and I just wanted to go home, curl up into a ball and cry.

And yet, as soon as the test was over, the kids left the room and started smiling again, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. That's when it struck me that nothing was out of the ordinary. These kids are forced to take tests they are unprepared for all the time. If they felt as crappy as I did about every test they failed, they'd never get out of bed! It also helped me to understand why the kids are so reluctant to study and do their homework. It's not that they're incurable zombies, it's that they're just so used to letdowns that they don't even try. Hopefully I can change that, at least a little bit.

In any case, I got all my grades calculated out and turned them in. So far, it looks like my school administration hasn't changed any of my grades, which is quite excellent. Many, many volunteers have problems with their school administration going in and changing their grades after the fact. I did, however, get called into the director's office to explain why half of my 8C class is failing... apparently "They don't do the homework, they don't study for the test, and they don't show up" is not a good enough explanation. I'm supposed to get the pass rate up by next semester, or.... well, they can't actually do anything to me as I'm an volunteer, but I need to try to get more students to pass. I am thinking of having mandatory extra credit tutoring sessions for students who fail to boost their grades and get them to practice.

To conclude, here are some of the gems on this trimester's exam:

"Reading comprehension: Julliet is now lost to a place only known by Real god."
"Change the following adjective into an adverb: Strongly"
"True or false: Farmers use new tachnology to cultvate their fields."
"True or false:  Leave dirty in our surrounding is good for the health."
"Use in a sentence: playstation"

Yeah. Like a Mozambican 8th grader from the middle of nowhere is going to have the slightest idea what a playstation is...

Anyway, that's all over now and we're starting the next trimester this week. I did a whole bunch of cool stuff during the week-long break in between trimesters (went to a conference, saw my friends, went to the beach, got robbed... yeah, maybe that last one's not so cool.). I'll be blogging about that stuff this coming week, as I get photos and whatnot sorted out. Hopefully that'll make up for my complete April blogging failure.
 

Living the Good Life

Don't panic, I'm still alive! It's been a while since I've updated, I know. I accidentally used up my entire months internet in two weeks by researching graduate schools and the Fullbright application process -- oops!

However, I am currently writing from the Peace Corps Office in Chimoio, where I'm staying for our Re-Connect Conference. It's pretty great -- I get to sleep in a bed, with sheets and everything! This morning I took a shower and washed my hair (It hasn't been this clean for weeks!) and have been stuffing my face with delicious hotel food, including cheese, meat, orange juice, and ice cream.

Needless to say, I'm pretty pleased with life at the moment.

In any case, expect an update soon (with pictures!). Lots of things have been happening -- finals, REDES conference, Re-Connect conference, Blog About Malaria month... so much to write about, so little time.

T-Shirt Diplomacy

April 7th is Mozambican Women's Day, a national holiday in Mozambique. In preparation, my next door neighbors and closest friends in town were selling official "Dia da Mulher 2013" polo shirts. I wasn't too keen on buying one, but everyone else had one already and several people asked me "Why haven't you bought a shirt yet? You're a woman, too, aren't you?"

And thus, I found myself next door, digging through a big bag of over-sized polo shirts, looking for one that fit. One of my colleagues was there as well, and we found the last two smalls. I took one, and tried it on at my neighbor's request.

"It fits perfectly!" she beamed, "You'll fit right in on Monday!"

Content that come the 7th, I would look the part as an Official Mozambican Woman, I took my shirt and went home. My colleague bought the last small, and chose an additional shirt for her friend who was coming to visit.

Later on that evening, I was once again at Páscoa's house, reading. My colleague came back with her friend in tow. Apparently the shirt she had chosen for her friend was too big. They began to look through the shirts for another small, but there weren't any left. My colleague began to speak in very fast Portuguese with her friend, apparently hoping that if she spoke fast enough, I wouldn't understand what she was saying.

"There was one last small, and I was going to buy it for you, but the white bought it instead. She practically stole your shirt from me."

Annoyed, and understanding every word she was saying, I turned to my colleague.

"Is there a problem?" I asked, trying to remain polite and pleasant.

"Yes. Go get that shirt you have and bring it back. It's my friend's shirt. Take this one instead," she said, throwing a different shirt at me.

"I thought you already bought a shirt for your friend," I said, catching the shirt before it hit me in the face, "You were here when I bought my shirt, and you took two."

She frowned. "Just try this shirt. It'll fit you better, that other shirt was much too small for you. Go on, try it!"

With no intention of switching shirts, I obliged and tried on the size XXL shirt she had thrown at me. It was like wearing a tent.

"Wow," she said, smiling ever-so-sweetly, "That fits you perfectly!"

I looked down. The sleeves reached my elbows. The bottom hem reached my knees. I looked back up at my colleague and raised an eyebrow. "It's too big," I said.

"No, no, no. I promise you, that's the nicest shirt in the whole bag. This shirt is so much nicer than the one you have at home. Bring that other one back and you can have this wonderful shirt that I picked out just for you."

At this point, I felt the eyes of the half dozen other teachers present watching our interaction with interest. I could almost hear them thinking I wonder how the branca is going to handle this situation? I didn't want to be rude, but I also didn't want to switch shirts. I wasn't about to pay for a much-too-large shirt when I already had one that fit perfectly.

"You really think this is the nicest shirt in the bag? Nicer than the one I have at home?" I asked hesitantly.

A glimmer of cunning hope sparked in my colleague's eyes. "Yes, yes. It's the nicest of all the shirts! I swear it!"

I calmly took the shirt off and folded it nicely.

"Well if it's the nicest shirt in the whole bag, surely you'll want it for yourself. I don't want to take the nicest shirt. Here. Have it, I insist."

I pressed the shirt into her hands and smiled sweetly.

She glared.

"Let's go," she said to her friend, and stormed away.

Once they were out of earshot, the other teachers burst into laughter.

"Did you see what Professora Helena said?!" they said to each other. To me, "Professora Helena, you always know just what to say! That was so funny!"

I may have made an enemy today, but I don't mind. Maybe we'll make amends later on, but if we don't, that's OK. I made about 10 new friends by not being a pushover.

Honestly, if my colleague had asked politely if I wouldn't mind switching shirts, I probably would have said yes. I like making people happy. But the way she talked about me right in front of me in a language I clearly understand, and the way she demanded I switch with her really got under my skin. Just because I'm here as a volunteer doesn't mean I have to do whatever you say!

My Women's Day Polo shirt, at first a reluctant peer-pressure-induced purchase, has now become a symbol of pride. Come Monday, I will wear that shirt proudly! I am a Mozambican Woman!