Does Santa Come to Mozambique?

Happy holidays! Here we are on the 18th of December and you would never know that any sort of huge holiday is a mere seven days away. This is something that has been a little tough in some ways, but extremely thought-provoking as well. I would like to share some of these thoughts and reflections with you this holiday season, not with the intent to evoke any sort of guilt or defensiveness by any means, only with the hope to provide some space for further examination, questioning and a reaffirmation and return to the true heart of the season, which as I have gotten older I have come to realize is love and family.

One of the starkest realizations that one comes to when going through the holiday season in a very poor country is the inconspicuousness of it. I am used to seeing lights on houses, signs in stores, trees in living rooms and people talking about the big date everywhere I go. That doesn't exist here. None of it does. Nor does Christmas candy. Or special promotions and sales. Or Christmas carols playing on the radio or in the stores. In fact, this period of time as the rainy season just is beginning is often referred to as the "hunger time" because all the stores of crops from the last season are running out and the new ones haven't had time to grow and be harvested. In a season that I am used to celebrating by adding extra stuff, I find a crushing lack of the basic stuff here. Money. Food. Even more lacking than it normally is.

This being said, when I went to the market today to give one of the vendors there back the 40 meticais he had lent me yesterday, he and his two friends were sharing a lunch of a fish sauce and xima and they demanded that I come eat with them. The food wasn't going to fill the three of them up as it was, but they wanted me to be a part of it. There is a shortage of food at the moment, but they wanted to share what they had. Money is hard to come by, but here was a free lunch being thrust at me. I ended up politely refusing and mentioning that I had already started cooking something at home (which was true), but it still took a lot of convincing before they let me go.

This is one small example from the hundreds I have accumulated during my first 8 months in Mozambique of the love and familial bonds which are so prevalent here. If love and family are what are truly important during the holiday season, then the Mozambicans celebrate all year round!

This brings us to my last point. The important things in life don't lie in the eye-catching, expensive or complex things, they lie in the simple things. The everyday things. And when you take away the possibility and means of surrounding yourself with these flashier things, the simple things are all you are left with. I may not have my family here with me, but the love that my Mozambican family here, all of it from the market vendors to hospital employees, goes a very long way in demonstrating the essence of the Christmas spirit, if you will, that I have found myself looking for since roughly December 1st.

I want to finish by saying that I am in no way trying to say our Western Christmas traditions are bad at all. Quite the opposite! I would love to be sitting on the warm rug in front of a wood stove drinking some hot cocoa with my parents and playing a game of Banana Grms. A Christmas tree would be one of the most beautiful sights at the moment. Gifts from Santa the morning of the 25th sound like a dream. What I am saying is that it's extremely important to know why all of these different parts of Christmas and its traditions mean so much to us. It's important to ask. Is it because of family? Is it because of love? I think we will find that the vast majority of what we enjoy about the season will fall into one of these two categories. And THAT's the beautiful thing, to be able to slow down, set aside the distractions and the extra and to be able to take a moment to really and truly appreciate Christmas for what it is: a time filled with family, those closest to us and the incredible amount of love that bonds all of us together and makes it all worthwhile!

On that note, merry final days and enjoy the season; I know that I will be!

Maybe the closest thing to a Christmas tree I'll see during my time here in Mozambique, this
giant Baobab tree leaves quite the impression! 

Horizon Points - The Art of Capturing

Horizon points are arguably some of the most magnetic visions we experience on the day-to-day, always seeming to draw us in by a magnificent sunset, mountains in a distant fog or waves slowly lapping on the beach far away. That being said, we never actually arrive at them; there is always another horizon waiting when we get to the point we had earlier seen. This is one of the beautiful things about running here for me. Driving, taking a train and other means of transportation are great ways to chase the horizon, but running is an unmatched way to appreciate it.

The obvious reason for this (at least in my case) is that you are going so slow you have plenty of time to take in the same horizons as you slowly move within them. I shouldn't say "the same", because the other incredible thing about running is you are able to witness the horizons change with the lighting, days, seasons and weather. Metoro is situated in a more or less flat area of land, but to the north the elevation does go down enough to get a breathtaking view of the expansiveness of some of the Mozambican mato (bush). We have one mountain (term must be taken with a grain of salt) visible in the distance to the north and three mountains off a ways to the south. The rest is flat. What this translates into is a lot of visibility on my runs.

As you might already know, I am currently training for a marathon at Victoria Falls in July. I try to get out and run every other day. After roughly four months I am up to 12.5 kilometers, which means I'm able to get some good range on my routes. I was worried that the scenery would get boring, as my 'routes' are in fact just down and backs on a highway, but I have been pleasantly surprised by how organic and dynamic they have turned out. Here are some of the beautiful things I experience and see while I'm out there:

Smiling, waving, greeting residents on their front porches or at the wells for the first couple kilometers of my run as I slowly leave the limits of Metoro's housing. Little armies of goats crossing the road to get home. The mesmerizing glow of burning machamba (field for farming)-cleaning fires blazing off in the distance at dusk. The smell of dusty earth that has drank its fill of a recent rain. The cool drizzle of running in the rain as a giant, red sun sets in the west. Cicadas. The rustling wind through the bushes alongside the road, sliding the leaves and branches together. Women carrying large capulana (cloth) sacks full of mandioca (cassava), charcoal or bread on their heads to sell in Metoro. Men balancing tens of long, thin bamboo stalks on ancient bicycles as they creak their way into town. Many types of birds singing their unique songs to each other as the light begins to fade away. The pregnant first moments of a sunrise at 4.15 in the morning as the sky slowly begins to blush in the east. Shadows caused by the full moon. The whole expanse around Metoro leaving the brown, dry, desolation and unwrapping into a green paradise pulsing with new life and energy. Inter-city chapas (vans converted for public transport) whirring by with incomprehensible loads of baggage piled and tied onto their roofs. Stars escaping from the Milky Way and scattering into the night. A soft, humidity in the morning after a light rain the night before. Mango tree branches bowing with the weight of hundreds of dense green fruits as they begin to ripen. Acacia and Baobab trees towering over other flora in the distance while looking off to the side of the road. Three mountains climbing up from the horizon, towering over the rest of the flat, stretching landscape. A cool, flowing breeze over my face as I move towards the east and the Indian Ocean resting 88 kilometers away. A road that unravels ahead of me, twisting and turning, urging me to tack just one more kilometer onto my route today to explore around the next bend. The quiet, empty stillness of the night. The gentle, rolling waking of the world in the early morning. Serene silence with the only the tempo of your breath to guide your thoughts.

These are just a handful of the reasons to run here in Metoro, as if the idea of running a marathon around one of the Seven Natural Wonders of the World next year weren't enough for motivation! Now, time to get to bed, as tomorrow I plan on trying to go for an early morning (4AM) run.

Money Makes the World Go 'Round

This post will be a quick one, just to share an impactful event that happened to me this week. Many times I think we know truths about the world or our environment, but we don't dedicate the time to actually utter them, then when someone actually does and we hear it, it comes as a little bit of a shock or surprise. Not in the way that it doesn't make sense or that we don't believe it, but in the way that we until that moment didn't quite realize exactly HOW much sense it made or didn't pinpoint the countless experiential evidences that lead us to know it is true. This happened to me this past Tuesday.

I've been waiting for about two weeks now to get electricity in my house and I am now beginning to actively call one of the people responsible for the area operations a couple times a day in an effort to annoy him into motion. However, when one of the nurses at the hospital overheard my conversation with an individual from the energy company she asked after I was done, "Was that about getting energy?" I responded, "Yes, I've been waiting two weeks so far." "Epá, energy, that can take months...just for them to show up." "But..." I started, before she cut me off, "Sabe, Zachy, o dineiro... (You know, Zach, money...)" She didn't have to finish her sentence. We all know how it ends. Money makes the world go around. Money speaks. Money is power. And a hundred other phrases to let you know that if you don't have the green, you won't be seen.

But I realized we don't know. We have no idea. Until you live in a country where money effectively doesn't exist for the majority of the population (and, if I'm honest with myself, until you are one of these individuals), you can't truly appreciate what any of these sayings mean. The nurse was right, money runs Mozambique. Rural citizens don't have it. Foreign companies take advantage of the nation to make it. International aid organizations and governments pump it into the country in order to try to advance their agendas. Individuals leave the country to find it. Children ask for it before they even know how to count it. Parents work their entire lives and never have enough of it to save up. People kill for it and people pray for it. Money.

This is not meant to be a discouraging post, only meant to make us think a bit. We talk about money all the time in the U.S., for example, and how those with the money have the power. This is just as true there as it is here, but here that reality manifests itself in a much more extreme and raw way. It's all a spectrum and it's easy to gape at those above us, but let's not forget those below us either.

The night after this happened, I was able to go on a gorgeous moonlit jog, the incredible beauty and freshness of the night reminding me that money is certainly not the only thing that matters in this world. Neither is electricity. I can wait. It can wait.

Late afternoon sun from the highway south of Metoro

Those Who Wander are Not Always Lost

"Passear" doesn't really have a good one-to-one English translation. If you were to search in a translator you would get the verbs "to stroll", "to walk" and "to saunter", to name a few; none of these fully embody the full sense of the word. To be honest, if you were to ask a Mozambican what "passear" meant, they would likely move their hand in an large, open sweeping motion and respond with, "Epa, é passear só!" (Ay, it's just passearing!) As this is not a very functional definition for any of you not in Mozambique reading this, let's try to peg this down.

Passear (v.) - to wander around one's neighborhood or town with or without a predetermined destination and with the continual objective of encountering known, and possibly unknown, individuals in order to share some form of social interaction with them

This general description aside, there really are no rules to passear-ing, simply a few guidlines. Here are some of the non-rules you must know and hints that might help before your first passearing:

• One doesn't need to give an individual forewarning before showing up at their residence, a simple "com licença" (with permission) upon reaching the gate, yard or front door will do.
• One doesn't need to explain to anyone why one is there, it's enough to know it's a routine passear.
• One needn't divulge any route plans or destination to anyone who might greet one along the way. "Estou a passear" tells them everything they need to know.
• However, once one assumes a passear-ing status, one opens oneself to any social interaction that might come one's way and is now obliged to entertain, at least briefly, any conversation or story that might come one's way. There is no such thing as selective passear-ing.
• There is no amount of time that a passear-er must spend at any given location, the mere state of passear-ing liberates them from the flow of time as we know it.
• If one has passear-ed to an individuals house, it is important to know that one's house is now 'on the grid' and is fair game as a destination the next time this individual passear-s.
• Elderly are especially tickled by a passear their way. It is always a fantastic idea for one to make the houses of any elderly community members they may know a destination of one's passear-ing every now and again
• One must not passear com pressa. Passearing is by its very nature a relaxed and free-flowing activity. To attempt to try to limit or contain such a thing at worst results in an unfathomable disaster and at best leads to a very awkward, unnatural passear. 
• If one means to passear somewhere during mealtime, it is very likely one will encounter a "servido!" ("served", with regards to offering food) thrown your way upon arrival. For this reason, it is often kind to passear with a small consumable gift to add to any meal or present to the family if one's arrival coincides with a meal. 

I hope that this will be of some help upon your next visit to Mozambique as you stroll right into the passear-ing culture. Passear-ing can seem complex, ambiguous and hard to understand at first...and it is! However, far from being the result of something that is difficult, this is because passear-ing is so fluid and natural; it's hard to tack down with rules and descriptions. In the end, the most important thing to remember is to walk slow, go with the flow and say greet everyone you may or may not know!

It's ALWAYS a good idea to passear by mãe's house!

A Vida Está a Andar

Well, when you wait a month to write a blog post, you realize that quite a lot is happening in this supposedly slow-paced life that you are leading in Cabo Delgado, Mozambique. That being said, I think the best way to go about this post is to shotgun a bunch on information and photos about what all has gone on this past month and wait until later for a more focused, specifically-themed post.

And here we go...

I finally have my own house, but am still living off of the benevolence of my mother, who insists on feeding me. I obviously have no complaints when it comes to this issue, as her food is heavenly and I am without electricity as I wait for a box to be installed.

A group of 30 armed militants recently took over a couple towns in the north of Cabo Delgado, killing police and stealing arms. At first it was suspected that they might be members of Al Shabaab, but upon further investigation it is unclear and seems that, regardless of anything, they were Mozambican. The situation has been cleared up, but Peace Corps will likely be moving the two volunteers that were in the site.

I went to Nampula to visit the Acting Global Director of the Peace Corps, Sheila Crowley. As an added treat, the Africa director and Mozambique director were also present. It was a very brief meeting, but was great to take advantage of the opportunity to meet someone so high on the ladder, as field visits are not very common. It was also awesome to meet up with other volunteers in Nampula and spend some time in the 'big city',

I am now working with a group called Geração Biz, which is a group of peer educators at the local school. I am helping reinforce their knowledge of various themes regarding sexual health and HIV/AIDS by meeting with them once a week to do some activities, chat and answers any questions I might be able to give insight on. It's a really cool program and I'm excited to see them in action!

At SAAJ (the youth center of the hospital) we are in the beginning phase of planning a garden for the youth here to grow produce, have the opportunity to supplement their diet with it and possibly also have a chance to sell it for a little extra income.

I have had my first English for Emakhua language lesson exchange. The pedagogical director at the school expressed an interest in learning English, and I need to learn local language, so we have begun swapping lessons. Brings me back to the good 'ol days of teacherhood in Prague!

I found a snake on my door this week. It escaped into a tree that directly overhangs my walkway, which is semi-terrifying, as it looks EXACTLY like a branch except for its green head. After some research I believe it could be mildly venomous. Hopefully we don't find out.

The provincial English Theater competition took place in Pemba, or actually a lodge outside of Pemba. It was great to see youth from schools all over the province come to compete in short 10-minute theater performances themed around health and self-empowerment. The main theme was equality and that different isn't bad, a theme which is especially important in the realm of HIV and the stigma that often accompanies it. Almost the entire Cabo Delgado volunteer group was there and it was great to reunite with Liz, Elissa, Camila and Isabella!

My jogging routine is still going strong and I was recently inspired by my sister, Mackenzie, to push my distance up to a normal length of between 8-10km, which I believe is on track for the marathon that I am planning on running July 1st at Victoria Falls. The only kicker is that my site is fairly flat and I have been running in the evenings when it is cool. I don't think either of these conditions will be the case during the actual marathon.

Yesterday I had my first official Site Visit by the Peace Corps. I believe everything went well and the representative was impressed with the town of Metoro and my presence within it up until this point.

Victor, a vendor in the market, invited me to attend their soccer practice at 4a.m. the next morning. I decided to check it out (ends up that it starts closer to 5) and now it seems I have somehow committed to the entire season? I get heckled every day that I miss practice and Victor keeps reminding me that we have a game coming up this Saturday that I had no idea I was a part of.

There is no water in my housing complex, so I cart water from the hospital back to the house, where I have two 100L buckets: one for the kitchen and one for the bathroom. This used to be a more difficult task, as it was done by hand carrying two 25L containers, but now that I have a wheelbarrow I can fill the bucket in either of the rooms with a single trip.

Well, that is already quite a bit of information and I'm sure if you've made it to this point in the post you're ready for some photos!

Ben and me just being Ben and me

The water transport (yellow) and storage system. Each galão (yellow) holds roughly 20-25 liters and the bucket 100

Sunset from a hill in Ancuabe sede, the town closest to me

View from the same hill before sunset

Dannia, Joel and me enjoying the view after a short walk out of Ancuabe sede

Whenever we do buscas, which consist of going into the small towns and bush to find patients who have abandoned treatment, we always return with all sorts of gifts... Almost always edible

Mandioca, or cassava, is huge here and I like it a lot. However, in this dry form it ends up tasting a lot like chalk. Sometimes it is necessary for a mid-busca snack though

The centipede can get fairly gigantic here. However, I've been told they are harmless and it's the venomous millipedes that you want to watch out for

During the English Theater competition we camped out.

Everyone gathered for the competition

Sunrise over the ocean in Pemba

Infiltrator of my room one night

The foundation Ariel Glaser shot a short documentary on being HIV positive in the community

Sitting down and meeting all the big wigs of Peace Corps in Nampula during their visit before continuing to Maputo

In Nampula Michelle found an awesome couch surfing host named Mwaura! He is from Kenya and it was fantastic to get to know him and share some great conversations

Uncle Paul would be proud of me... Bought some DIY necessities and have already begun some small home improvements

One of the most exciting things to finally be using are my knives... So sharp and so efficient! Never to be taken for granted again.

Camila and Ben breakfasting at the lodge in Pemba where we had a meeting with the Ariel Glaser foundation.

Isa and me after finishing a morning run on the beach

We had a nice Cabo family dinner during our time there for the Ariel Glaser meeting

A district gathering of all of the members of the Geração Biz team, taking place at the school in Ancuabe sede

The snake that greeted me a couple mornings ago

Gotta Hand It to Ya...

I want to share a little bit about touches. Physical touches. Touches in Mozambique, at least in Metoro. Touches between men and women. Touches between men. Touches between coworkers. Touches between family members. Touches between people who just met for the first time. Touches between more or less anything capable of touching and anything present to receive a touch. Touches of the hand.

As you might have gleaned from this first paragraph, there is a lot of touching going on here! I can really only speak to my experiences here in Metoro so far, so just keep that in mind as you read; it might not be like this in all of Mozambique, but I have heard various confirmations or like information from many other volunteers. Mozambican culture is a culture of community. This sense of community is very strong and the expectations on community members to support and be present during the lives of others are as well. So far, I have definitely seen evidence of an "actions speak louder than words" generalized and collective mentality.

Many times, this community presence and support manifests itself between individuals via physical contact. Let's touch on a few example interactions:


The Up-n-Downer: The Up-n-Downer is possibly the gold standard of Mozambican physical contact. It is safe to say that this is the foundation on which much of the other contact is built. If you can't execute the Up-n-Downer with someone, you're not going to have any hope of progressing to anything more advanced like the Courier and even something as simple as the Pancake might seem a little weird without such a proper base. The Up-n-Downer consists of performing a handshake, then sliding the hands up and forward while interlocking thumbs in some manner, bringing the hands back down into a more-or-less shake, making a snapping motion with the two thumbs that are now at attention, and then separating. This is done in all sorts of settings, formal and otherwise, and between all sorts of people. Men, women, bosses, coworkers, strangers, priests, children, and any Peace Corps Volunteer who is half-decently integrated.

Up-n-Downer

The Courier: The Courier is a common enough maneuver which takes place everywhere and between everyone. This comes to pass when an individual grabs another individual by the hand and leads them away to some destination. The hand is often not released until much of the distance has been covered, if not all of it. This is equally common between individuals of the same sex or different sexes. It occurs between all ages and does not mean anything other than, "Here, come with me to this location where I want to show you something (not meant in any creepy or double-meaning sort of way). More than once I have had my hand taken by a male coworker and been led through the passages and halls of the hospital.


The Fishnet: The Fishnet is commonly seen at the beginning of a conversation after the successful completion of the Up-n-Downer and can last anywhere from a few seconds to the entire conversation. The Fishnet becomes activated when the initial conversation Up-n-Downer takes place and then one party fails to let go. The hands become locked and remain this way for the duration that the initiator, or Fisherman, deems fitting. I have been on the receiving end of a Fishnet that lasted the entirety of our 7-minute conversation.

O Clássico: O Clássico is just what it seems, the classic. By no means exclusive to Mozambique, O Clássico goes by "fistbump" and "the pound" in many English-speaking countries. This maneuver is initiated to offer reinforcement, throw emphasis on a statement, or simply give a general, only-because-life's-so-good "parabens" to a given situation.

The Bounce-Back: The Bounce-Back comes into effect when an embrace is initiated by either party during a greeting, or farewell, or any other time or reason. The correct Bounce-Back is completed by pulling your fellow participant into an embrace. Where one could become tripped up in the Bounce-Back, however, is by failing to do just that, bounce back. After the first chest-bumping of the embrace is completed and individuals have bounced out of it, they must then maintain firm hand position and bounce back into a second embrace, this time with their head going to the opposite side of the partner's. This is could be compared to the French double cheek kiss with a little more testosterone.

Bounce-Back - Phase I

Bounce-Back - Phase II

The Clock Out: The Clock Out is used when an individual either does not really have much time to spend talking with a second individual or is in a rush to end the conversation they have already been having. Quick words are often exchanged and the palm of the Loiterer is exposed for the hand of the Deserter to make a quick, sharp downward motion, tap the hand and be on his or her way. Anytime one is involved in a Clock Out, it is important to remind oneself that this is nothing personal and is simply another way to fast-track affection before departure.

The Clock Out

The Pancake: The Pancake is another very widely-used maneuver and consists simply of laying one's hand on another individual's body and leaving it there for some time while speaking with them. This can be the shoulder, the back, the elbow, the thigh (usually while seated, and regardless of sex), and even, in much rarer cases, the head.

This is all we have time for now, but there also exists a wealth of various interactions with children, a subject that we will touch upon in a later post.

Minha Casa é Sua Casa

Just a short blog post to introduce some of my acquaintances here at site:

Tickles the scorpion (deceased)

I met Tickles a couple weeks ago in my bathroom as I was getting ready to take my bucket bath. Unhindered by the notion of privacy, he was waiting patiently by my shower bucket for the show to begin. As a result of an unfortunate amount of pressure applied to a piece of toilet paper that ended up on top of him, Tickles continued on to a better place and his body, small but most certainly venomous, traveled via toilet flush. He will not be forgotten, and we think him especially in times of vulnerability in showers, shoes and while traversing spaces with bare feet.

Mr. Weasely the arachnid

Meu amigo, Mr. Weasely, can usually be found in the corner of my apartment complex eating the remarkably large insects that become trapped in his remarkably large web, which I like to call Net Zero. While I have yet to get close enough to him to study with any sort of detail what species he might be, I have approached him to the point where I can be certain he is at least as large as my hand. Not just my palm. My whole hand. Including fingers. The entire thing. We tend not to interact too much with each other and I believe that we are in a phase of our relationship where we simply content ourselves knowing we are largely not in competition for resources.

Mystery the moth

No one knows where she came from. No one knows where she's gone to. We are all heartbroken to have seen her leave. I can't say I knew her well, one night together was far too short, but I will never forget the beauty she brought into my life. An evening transformed from a lonely jantar of xima and peixe to a magical photo shoot of brilliant colors and endless possibilities. I hope you are well, Mystery, you sunshine in the darkness, you present in the winter, you part that will always be missing! I am here.

Bullet the mouse

One of the things I admire about Bullet is that she is incredibly fast and almost constantly active. There could certainly exist the argument that this is the reason for the incredible number of feces that she leaves behind in the corner of my room by my future, still-in-the-box-thank-goodness electric water heater. One can scarcely blame her for the healthy state of her metabolism and her gracious choice of depositing-point, more or less out of site, can only be commended. It has become habit for us only to spend time together at night. Maybe she simply feels more comfortably that way, or maybe she has an ulterior motive. We have 10 p.m. shadow chases, 2 a.m. staring contests and 5 a.m. under-the-door escapes. 

Mithridates the ant

The semi-perplexing thing about Mithridates is that he goes nowhere without his guard and the rest of his army. Recently, of course this can be nothing more than speculation, it seems that my backpack was the target of a campaign. What began as a raid escalated into a full-blown siege and my poor backpack was soon overrun. After three days of diplomacy and rejected terms of surrender, I was forced to bring out the secret weapon: o medicamento. After sprinkling this 'medicine' over the army's most-traveled paths, the number of casualties sky-rocketed, until Mithridates and his forces were forced to abandon their assault. However, being the shrewd commander he is, I am sure Mithridates is still at large. Likely our fates will cross again. 

Slurpy the mosquito (status unknown)

Nothing kills a party like that one friend who drinks too much. Unfortunately, this is the case with my friend Slurpy. His drinking problem has led him to acquire all sorts of unwanted illnesses and it becomes of utmost importance not to let him anywhere near you with that poker, especially after a few sips. He has a gigantic family and they are all the same god-for-nothing blood suckers when it comes down to it. The other day I caught one of them red-bellied, still in the act of stealing from me; the deed had to be done, and the warning to all who would do the same is now on the wall by my desk. I'm pretty sure it wasn't Slurpy who got caught on the wrong side of my hand, but the whole family seems to have been fairly affronted by my dishing out of justice and we are now in a full-fledged blood feud. 

The Hardest Job You'll Ever Love

As promised, this post is exploring Peace Corps' catchphrase, "the hardest job you'll ever love." At first when I read this back in Prague, as I was applying for the Peace Corps, I didn't really give it much thought, considering it nothing more than a nice logo. Coke: open happiness. McDonald's: I'm lovin' it. Nike: just do it. Next, when I was in New Mexico preparing for Peace Corps service after being accepted, I looked at it more or less as a chiché little phrase meant to keep you excited and keep you going before you got there, something to keep you fighting through the piles of paperwork and testing that one must slog through to gain clearance to serve.

During certain parts of the three months of Pre-Service Training I thought, "Maybe this is the hard part and the part you love comes afterwards."

Now, after a mere two weeks at site, I already realize that "the hardest job you'll ever love" is not just a logo, it is not cliché, nor is it something that I will ever be able to break down into clean 'sections' or compartments; the part that is hard and the part that I love are separated by a mere day, by hours, by minutes, or even are found together in the same moment as I move through my life here.

This is the result of living in an environment and culture that is completely different and being forced to adapt and modify myself and my daily routine, but it is also the result of being in an environment that is a lot less stable and predictable than many of the ones we have left in the United States. Yes, maybe I have to walk quite a ways to get water, which is different, but maybe the pump isn't working when I arrive as well. I might have to work hard to find people to work with on various projects at the local hospital, but the person I find might also be transferred to a different district without warning the following week. Part of my new job might be to ride out into the countryside and work on health education and treatment adherence issues, but the car that's meant to take us might not show up that day. An acquaintance of mine might finally go to the hospital to give birth to her child (already a big step, as many women either choose to give birth at home or are forced to do so by circumstances) and then her child might die within 2 hours of being born.

All this might be completely normal.

And THAT is where the hard part of the job. Just because something happens frequently, does not mean that it is normal. Not having access to clean water and children dying within their first 5 years of life are realities of life here, but they are not normal. Nor should they be. The hard part of this job is fighting to prove that many hardships and challenges encountered on a day-to-day basis here are not normal; they are changeable and with teamwork we can find ways to bring about the change needed to overcome them. That's what the Peace Corps volunteers are here for, not to solve problems, but to offer a different way of looking at them and offer ideas about how to move forward once they are recognized. Not that many of these changes or solutions could every happen overnight, they might take years, but as a volunteer sometimes the main goal is simply to convince people that they can and should happen and are something worth looking and working towards. Eventually. Pouco a pouco. Correr não é chegar. 

Now, the part of the job that I do love is the part that IS the normal part: the people. The more I travel the more I realize that we are all the same and that we have created invisible barriers and given them the arbitrary names of countries, religions, colors and cultures, but in reality they only exists as much as we let them. It's normal that some people are kind and wave and greet me, even invite me into their homes for a meal. It's normal that other people are suspicious or closed off and just stare at me as I walk by. It's normal for little children to be unsettled by the sight of someone who looks different and run away. It's normal that hungry people ask me for money. It's normal for people with a good sense of humor laugh at my jokes. It's normal for people who are proud to tend to not let other people in a meeting talk. It's normal that people with a higher level of education look down on those who have a lower one or are lacking one all together. It's normal for people to cry when someone dies. It's normal to celebrate when a couple is married. Humanity is normal and that's the part of this job I love, interacting within it.

Everyday I am thrust into a beautiful firestorm of adventures, tragedies, celebrations, pain, fear, excitement, hopelessness, promises, victories, short-comings, logistical nightmares and a million other situations and it is always the humanity that makes it worthwhile. The environment and circumstances in which we are brought together are hard, but the love that humanity always seems to be able to give when it is needed most is more than enough to get us through. It's a hard job, but I love it!

Right. And now the photos... Thanks for sticking with me!

Gorgeous view off towards the district capital of Ancuabe from the top of a small hill in Metoro

I got this as Metoro's restaurant because it resembled a Koláč (Kolache in Verdigre), but it unfortunately didn't taste anything like one... More in the realm of dry bread stuffed with dry coconut shavings

Looking down the road to Montepuez during a weekday meandering

In the small town of Minheuene there is a now-abandoned mission. Well, mostly abandoned, as some of the buildings are still used

Here is the church in the same site. It is still used, despite many of the surrounding buildings being in a state of disrepair

You quickly learn that noticing the little things will get you a long way

The census is happening this month in Mozambique... It will only be the 4th census in the country's history, with the last one happening roughly 10 years ago

My house is still not ready, but at least the process for making it ready has begun...

Dannia, a PCV from the nearby site and district capital of Ancuabe, and her health center picked me up during a quick stop in Metoro and I accompanied them on a Brigada Móvil (mobile brigade), in which we traveled to a couple small villages to do vaccinations and family planning options. Here, Dannia and her colleague are waiting for all of the patients who signed up for the services to show up. In the end, only about half of them did. A big part of being a Peace Corps volunteer is being patient, flexible and waiting

0 to 60... Real quick!

Well, I well begin by letting you know that a now-official Peace Corps volunteer is writing this post. The group of Mozambique 28 swore in to service this past Thursday on the lawn of the U.S. ambassador's house (let's be honest, mansion) and will now be beginning their 2-year stints as health volunteers.

The last 3 weeks of training went well, but the energy had definitely changed from the first weeks after arrival in May. The last segment of PST was largely characterized by general restlessness and everyone scrambling to spend a little more time with various other volunteers who they would likely not see again for either 3 months or one year, depending on which area of the country they will be serving in. Peace Corps policy has it that volunteers so not leave their province for the first 3 months, as their presence better facilitates integration into their communities. However, at month 3 there is a conference called Reconnect in which volunteers from the northern, central, and southern regions of the country get together to break down there first months at site. Then at the year mark is a full-group conference in the capital city, Maputo, at which the entirety of our possé will reunite for a mind-service debriefing. 

The end of training snuck up on me, as all important dates tend to do, and I find myself in some ways unable to comprehend that it is over. After so much moving around you enter a state of almost permanent adaptability and it's hard to believe that I'm at the location that I'll be living in for the next 2 years. I'm ready for it, though. It's going to be a huge challenge and I'm very excited to work my way through it. Peace Corps is "the hardest job you'll ever love" according to the organization and I have already been able to get a glimpse of both sides of that coin. That will be the subject of my next entry... But for now, here are some photos of the last few weeks.

The legendary Wimbe Beach of Pemba, where we were able to wait for our flight back to Maputo after our phase 2

The hotel-top view of a Maputo sunrise. We stayed one night in the capital before continuing back to Namaacha

When I got home I learned that the family had a new member

Learning some of the benefits of local ingredients during a nutrition session during our last 3 weeks is training

We did a session on permagardening. Here Isabela and Essence are working on cutting up the brown material for the compost

My tia, Aissa, and I having a last ShopRite chicken lunch. Many of the volunteers would go there every Wednesday to partake in this beautiful gastronomic experience

Michelle battling my pai in Damas, a board game similar to checkers but with a much more anarchistic gameplay

We went and gave practice health talks at a local neighborhood/school. No one spoke Portuguese, but it all worked out really well in the end. It was a great experience and showed quite well what our job was going to look like

We had a host family party and got all of our families together to thank them for taking us under their wings for 3 months. Part of the celebration
included a relay race of peeling coconuts, washing clothes, starting a charcoal stove and other activities we learned during our time there. Grandma, you'd be proud to know my team tied for first place!

Mãe holding our new baby goat

Pai and I posing for a photo during the homestay celebration

These gorgeous little morsels were found in Maputo our last night. They were Mana in the desert.

It's hard to describe how this burger made me feel. I wanted to weep, laugh, and fist pump at the same time. 

Billy and I sharing center stage at the ambassador's house after swearing in

Michelle, the fearless Wisconsinite with whom the majority of my Pre-Service Training adventures were shared, represented our group at the swearing in ceremony and gave a brilliant speech in Portuguese about Moz 28's experience in the Peace Corps up to that point

Marco, a good friend from my bairro and lingua group, and I hanging out at the Peace Corps office just after swearing in