One Year Later: Returning to Namaacha

This has been a very special week for me. This week, I was invited by Peace Corps to come down to Namaacha, where I went through 10 weeks of training last year, to visit this year's training and help out the new trainees. Every week of training, Peace Corps selects two or three volunteers to come to Namaacha -- lots of people apply, so I felt very lucky to be able to go! I remember really looking up to the volunteers when I was a trainee, and it was really cool to be able to be in the other set of shoes this time.

Also visiting Namaacha this week were my friends Eric and Jay -- and we had a surprise fourth volunteer, Matt, making it a really fun week. I felt a little bit like I was living the Peace Corps version of New Girl.

Shared a house with these dorks for a week.

Week 8 of training is all taken up with Model School. It's a time for the trainees to take all the things they've learned about Portuguese and teaching skills and use them to practice teaching on Real Mozambican Students. They can make mistakes and experience teaching in the "shallow end" before jumping into teaching at their sites when the school year starts in February.

Trainees put their knowledge to use.

This dog just ran into the class mid-lesson and refused to leave!

... and so he just curled up and learned Chemistry like everybody else.

Volunteer students have great behavior! (Note the Pokémon sweater.)

Being at Model School this time around was opened my eyes to how much I've learned this year. Just one year ago, when I was a trainee teaching model school, I was on the brink of a panic attack whenever I walked into the classroom. I had no idea if I was teaching the right way. I had no idea how to control my students. I couldn't read their handwriting, and they couldn't read mine.

After just one year of teaching in a Mozambican school, all those things seem like silly worries to me. Now I know that you're supposed to fill out the little book at the end of the lesson. I know that if the classroom is dirty, I can point at any student and tell them to sweep it. I know that their P's look like H's and that their Q's look weird.

Another thing that has changed, apparently, is my Portuguese. At one point this week, I went over and said hi to my old Portuguese teacher Meque. He asked me, "Your site is in Tete, right?" When I asked how he remembered, he said "I didn't remember. You sound like you're from Tete. The moment you opened your mouth, your Portuguese screamed TETE."

Funny how fast things change. When I left America, my Portuguese was 100% Brazilian and rusty, and just over a year later, I've completely changed my accent and am speaking fluently, at an "Advanced-High" level. It's amazing how fast you learn when you're immersed.

Meque, my old teacher.

Eurico teaches the newbies about Present Conjunctive.

Trainees struggle to put complex sentences in order.

The week went by MUCH too quickly. With everything canceled Wednesday due to Election Day, I had only a short time to get to know over 50 new members of the Peace Corps Mozambique family. However, I at least did get a chance to get to know the seven (count 'em! SEVEN!) new volunteers coming to Tete in two weeks, including -- drum roll -- MY NEW ROOMMATE! Laura, a fellow English teacher, is coming to live with me in my house, and I'm so very excited to have her. I can't wait to have someone to share the wonders of Mavudzi-Ponte and the fun of Tete City with.

Which brings me to my last nugget of news -- next year, with Laura taking some of the English classes that I was teaching last year, I will be teaching -- another drum roll -- Physics! I'm keeping my 10th Grade English classes, but I'll be tacking on 8th Grade Physics, too. I'm very excited to be able to teach in Portuguese, but I'll have to brush up on my Physics before jumping in. It's been a while, but I really enjoy Physics, so I'm looking forward to it.

Tomorrow, I get on a plane back to Tete, and after a few short days, I'll be heading out again for Thanksgiving with some friends at a different site. Shortly thereafter, Laura moves in. A week or so later, I'm meeting my parents in Johannesburg. It's going to be a really busy couple of months, but so very exciting!

Class Pictures

On the last day of class, I took pictures of all of my classes. Each one has the whole class on the top (attendance rate: ~60%) and the star students (those who managed a 75% or better) on the bottom.

8A, my rowdiest class -- equally entertaining and stressing. These kids alternate between making me want to laugh and scream.

8B, the class with a lot of my favorite students, (especially Jaurencio on the bottom left there -- such a goofball -- and Izaquel next to him.)

8C, my zombie class -- except for three students who know what I'm talking about, everyone else just stares. There's this ONE kids in the very back who fails everything, but at least smiles at me all the time.

9A, the source for most of my REDES girls. Silvia, the girl in the middle of the bottom picture, stops by my house to converse a lot and brings me dried maçanicas.

9B. Helder, on the bottom right, is by far my brightest student. He's the only one who can actually hold a conversation in English.

10A, source of many of my English Theater kids. They're very hard-working, but unfortunately tend to lose whenever they play Jeopardy against the other 10th grade class.

10B, one of my favorite turmas. Mouzinho, the kid in the top picture sitting on the desk, is so thoughtful and friendly. I'm going to miss them when they graduate!

Most of my 10th graders are graduating next year, and I probably won't be teaching the 8th graders when they move up to 9th grade. But I'm really looking forward on focusing much more on the 9th-becoming-10th graders next year, hoping to work intensely with them so they do well on their final exams.

Despite the frustrations with the school system, the corrupt grading, the lacking work ethic -- these kids make it all worthwhile!

Vamos Jogar!

A little over a week ago, I had a visitor at my site -- Michaela, one of the new trainees.

Michaela

A year after visiting Sussundenga to see what volunteer life is like, I got to be a host and brag about Mavudzi-Ponte. It was a really nice feeling, showing someone around, feeling proud of my little village, pointing out all the sights.

However, Mavudzi-Ponte's not very big, and within half an hour we'd walked all of it. So, on one of the days she was here, we decided to pop over to neighboring Kaunda, Szasha's site, and help her out with her basketball court project.

Basketball court in progress!

Szasha's basketball court joins sports with HIV/AIDS awareness, and her basketball is an impressive accomplishment, especially considering the time crunch. There have been so many hurdles along the way, and I was glad that we got to be there and help out at least a little bit. It was reassuring to see people from the community eager to help out and put in the effort -- it re-energized me to look at some projects that I want to do in my own village.

The pedreiro works hard from dawn to dusk.

Some teachers help paint the backboard.

Mostly, Michaela and I stood around watching. But we helped a little, too! And Szasha's students enjoyed meeting other azungu.

I sketch the Peace Corps logo on the corner of the mural.

Michaela practices mad basketball skills with some Kaunda students.

All in all, a successful day! And a project to be proud of! These types of projects showcase what we as members of the community can do. With the completion of the court, Szasha will never truly leave Kaunda.

A Dona -- the boss lady proudly showcases the court.

A Tribute to Szasha

I have a lot of blog entries backlogged that I really need to finish and post -- about Teacher's Day, about my site visitor last week, about the end of the school year -- so many things to write about, but today's post is not about any of those things. Today I'm writing about Szasha, because she left for America today.

I first met Szasha in training. She lived in the same neighborhood as me, Bairro 25, and I walked past Szasha's house every day to get home. There was a girl there who always had carvão (coal) on her hands, and she just loved to grab people's boobs. I call her Carvãohands Boobgrabber, and Szasha and I like to joke about her.

Szasha was also in my language group for Portuguese class. She and her friend Alexandra, who both transferred to Mozambique after a year in Peace Corps Cape Verde, used to talk about Cape Verde all the time. In fact, when Szasha wasn't talking about Cape Verde, she was talking about California, her home state, and Berkeley, her alma mater. (My thoughts on this: What kind of a mascot is bruins? That's not even a word in English!) Szasha loved to distract our language instructor, Parruque, from formal instruction by throwing questions like "Where do elephants live?" and "Can you tell me all the kinds of snakes that can kill me so I can avoid them?" at him. It wasn't hard to see that Szasha was Parruque's favorite student in our group.

When we finally got our site placements, Szasha and I ended up in Tete together, all by ourselves in an exclusive little Tete Club. I honestly couldn't have asked for a better person to be stuck all alone with in an isolated corner of Mozambique. The first few months, it was Szasha who I explored Tete City with, learning the places that sell the best bread or have the creepiest salespeople. It was Szasha who I could call just to complain about how hot it was. It was Szasha who I traveled with to Zobwe, to Malawi, to Chimoio... and, speaking of travel, it was Szasha who taught me how to hitchhike in Africa (something I never thought I'd do!)

For almost a year, Szasha and I have been doing almost everything together. We went shopping in the city together. We planned our REDES conference together. We traveled to Lake Malawi together.

Who else can I sit around the house with, watching Miss Congeniality over and over? (She likes it for the beauty pageants, I like it for Texas.) Who else would sit in a bucket with me on a hot day? Who else would practice flip-cup in my house in preparation for Beer Olympics?

I feel like a good test for friendship is being stuck in a tiny, cockroach-filled room with someone for two weeks. If you're still friends after that, you're golden. Szasha passed that test with flying colors during our "fake-evacuation" in Tete City during the first bout of political unrest.

I never thought I'd be such good friends with a California sorority-girl from super-hippie-ville who used to be in beauty pageants and show dairy cows. In fact, I'm not sure Szasha and I would have been friends if we had met at some random party in the America. And yet, as fate has it, we met here -- and Szasha has become one of my very closest PCV friends.

I left Szasha at the airport this afternoon. She's done with her two years, and is going on an Epic Journey with her Cape Verde bestie before going home in time for Christmas. With her departure, I'm now the only volunteer left in Tete until the newbies get here in a month.

I'm going to miss Szasha so much, but I know she can't wait to go home, and I'm so proud of her for finishing her service. She is a fantastic volunteer, one of the best I know, and I'm going to miss her a ton.

Here's to you, Szash!

The False Alarm

It was Wednesday night, and I was sitting at home, eating a Crunch bar (score!) and watching the recent episodes of New Girl that I had finally gotten a hold of. My phone chirped and I picked it up to read the message that had just come in from my roommate:

"Rebels are attacking our district."

My heart started to pound. Our district? An attack?

I ran outside to listen for shouting or gunfire. I heard nothing except the voices of my neighbors, whispering in a panic.

"They are burning cars in Kazula!" they told me, "Our police just left to go redirect traffic from the cruzamento so no one goes there."

I sat down and listened to my neighbors talk. They kept saying things like "This is how the war started last time," and "I am leaving the country tomorrow morning, and that's that."

I asked them if this couldn't just be an exaggeration -- after all, there's nothing Mozambicans love more than to gossip. "No, no no," my neighbors said, "This information came from the police, not just some random person. They're even sending the army from the city."

I immediately texted Szasha and Peace Corps, as I stuffed things into my emergency bag, wondering in the back of my mind what materials are best for stopping AK-47 bullets. (My concrete walls? Metal sheeting? Trees?) Was I going to have to evacuate? Were the rebels coming here? If someone bursts into my house, where should I hide?

After several tense hours, nothing happened and people started drifting away to sleep. "We're going to sleep badly tonight," said my director, "But we'll know more in the morning." And so, I went to bed, lying awake for a while before eventually drifting off into a very troubled sleep.

The next morning, I awoke to a beautiful sunrise and the sound of birds chirping. I walked out and found my roommate and her best friend calmly having breakfast on the porch. When they heard me come out, my roommate turned and smiled.

"Mentira, she said." It was a false alarm. "Someone got confused and called the police, and they overreacted."

Turns out, absolutely nothing happened in Kazula. The village was overrun with truckfuls of police and armed soldiers for no reason whatsoever. The mental image is a bit funny, actually.

But what's not funny is the fear that I saw in the villagers when they thought this was real. Many of the families who live outside our complex wandered out into the bush to sleep instead of staying in their homes. People were talking about burning their FRELIMO party membership cards. Children were crying. Women were praying to God.

The general consensus among analysts is that RENAMO does not have the power and resources needed to stage a comeback or a civil war. However, they still clearly have the ability the strike fear in the people of Mozambique. I doubt that this will escalate into a fullblown civil war, but I worry that it will get bad enough to set Mozambique decades back on the progress its made in development.