Dust, Anybody?

Because I live so close to Tete City, I go into the city about once a week, to go shopping, to gorge on pizza/meat/indian food, and to see my friends there. This past weekend, with Laura away, I was planning to spend a quiet weekend at site. On Sunday, I planned to watch the World Cup final with Izaquel at another teacher's house, after spending the morning sweeping, mopping, doing laundry, and cleaning my room.

Except then Izaquel went home. And then the power went out. And that other teacher with a TV wasn't even here. And then I got lonely after 48 hours of practically not seeing anyone. So when Laura texted me on Sunday, saying "We're all going to go out and watch the game together! You should come!" I immediately packed a bag and headed to the road to catch a ride.

LITTLE DID I KNOW.

It was a Sunday afternoon, when traffic is always slow, so I knew it could be a while. After about 3 cars passed me, either too full or too mean to stop, about an hour in, I finally flagged down a dude in a small white pickup truck. There were already about a dozen people and a few chickens in the back but I managed to squeeze in, perched on the corner of the bed's edge and gripping both walls with my fingers. I introduced myself (in Nyungwe!) to the people who didn't know me, and we set off.

We practically flew to Tete City. Usually, in chapas, it's a very leisurely stroll through the communities that lie in our path. (Oh look, there's a new banca in Chidimba.... aw, someone's selling goat meat in Catipo...look at the naked kid running around in Caunje, that's nice). This time, it was a whirlwind, especially because I didn't have my bandana that I usually tie around my head to prevent "openback hair." So my hair was flying all about, whipping me in the face, and my nose was running with the snot just flying right out of my nose and into the wind, and my butt was hurting but there was nowhere else to sit lest I spoon an old man or crush a live chicken.

That was only the beginning. THEN, we got to the road construction stretch. Our road had been in such bad condition before they started fixing it that it was more potholes than road -- the last 10% of our journey used to take almost half the travel time, because we used to have to drive so slowly. But then, when President Guebuza came to visit a few months ago, magically the road crews appeared to tear up the old pavement and started fixing the road! Naturally, when His Excellency's entourage left again, the road repairing immediately stopped, and we were left with an incredibly dusty, even-worse-than-before unpaved detour.

It was down this hilly and ankle-deep in dust detour that our lovely pickup truck driver plowed into without bothering to slow down. He skidded around edges, jostling us around on the bumps so much that I thought I might just bounce out, and threw up MASSIVE amounts of dust. Ladies covered themselves and their babies with capulanas to protect themselves from the dust, looking like mummies. Men held hankies to their mouths and noses, as if to evoid ebola, and I had to make due breathing through my t-shirt, and probably inhaled enough dirt to lay the foundation of a small football field.

That ride was kind of a blur. In retrospect, I probably should have gotten out and waited for another car. But in the moment, I couldn't let go to signal the driver to stop, and I couldn't shout because of the dust, so I just hung on and hoped for the best. When we finally screeched to a stop in Tete City, the women slowly emerged from under their capulanas, like molting caterpillars, and the men used their hankies to slap the dust off their skin. Everyone looked around, in a daze. We were all covered in about half an inch of dust.

And then we started laughing.

It started with the old man sitting next to me. He looked around, and just started giggling. Some others joined him, and soon our entire group was cracking up at the ridiculousness of the situation. We looked awful.

"You know," I said between laughs, looking at my now brown jeans, "I washed these clothes just this morning,"

"AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA!" they erupted.

"Look!" said a man, holding up his arm next to mine, "We're the same color now!"

"TEEHEEHEEHEE!" Peals of laughter!

"I've decided," said a pregnant lady, "to name my next child Poeira ('Dust')"

"HOOOHOOOHOOO!" we cried together, tears of laughter rolling down our faces in muddy streaks.

Soon after, we parted ways, and I walked to my nearby friend's house, feeling not at all presentable for a social event, much less for the bible study she was hosting.

"Hi," I said, when she opened the door. "Can I use your shower? I'm er... a little dusty."

  

In the end, we did go out and watch the World Cup final together and it was amazing. I'm so very proud of Germany for playing so well and showing the world what champions they are. It was definitely worth the dust.