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