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!