Time of Fire

September is hot and dry.  It has been more than three months since we last saw rain in the province of Tete and, as such, the scene is primed for fire.  Local farmers have been executing small-scale, localized burns to clear away weeds and to prepare for next year's growing season, sending pillars of smoke and grit to clog up the view along the horizon.  Half of Tete Province has burned at some point during the last few months and the air quality is horrible.  Zobue hasn't seen a decent sunset since July.  This is the "Tempo de Fogo" in Mozambique.

For the most part, the weeks have been passing without incident.  Most of the fires that we see are small, reasonable, and under control.  The few large fires that we do see are far on the outskirts of town, lighting up the night from their position on the mountainsides.  These fires, while threatening, always seem to dissipate by morning.

Yesterday, though, we had a pretty big event.  At about 10 o'clock in the morning on Saturday, September 22nd, the entire Zobue marketplace burst into flames.

We heard about the fire just minutes after it had happened.  A crowd of neighborhood children came barreling into our front yard, babbling and shouting at Dan.

"TURN OFF YOUR ENERGY!"  They shouted.  "Turn it OFF!  Turn it OFF!"

Dan stuck his head out the door and cocked his head.

"What?"  He asked.

"There's been an accident in the marketplace!"  The children yelled.  "You have to turn off your energy or you will DIE."

After some discussion and clarification, Dan managed to piece together the entire story.

At about 9:30 that morning, a farmer was burning his land in the fields below the marketplace.  After successfully lighting the fire and getting it moving in the right direction, he walked away and let it burn.  It continued to burn merrily for about fifteen minutes without incident.  Then, at about 9:45, the wind picked up and began to blow the fire in the direction of the marketplace.

The fish stalls on the lower end of the marketplace were the first to catch fire.  The fire sent the bamboo poles and straw thatching up in flames and then lept towards the bancas by the road.  From there, it spread down the rows towards back of the market, taking down stores and stalls as it went.  The flames burned so high that they burned right through the electrical line, cutting power to the rest of the market and sending a shower of sparks over vendors as they ran back and forth to save their products.

There was some confusion, at first, about the situation with the power lines.  Some onlookers seemed to think that the fire was caused by a problem with the electricity, and that the whole town was going to burn down.  Waves of children were sent out across town, warning townsfolk to "Turn off their electricity or die." More credible witnesses, however, swore that the fire started in the fields.

"The flames were twenty feet tall," they said.  "The fire came first, and then it took out the power lines."

Dan and I came to see the damage at around sunset.  Everything was a mess.  The bamboo stalls on the lower side of the market had been razed completely.  The fire had spread uphill and destroyed a few tin bancas, burning to the top of several papaya trees on the outer edge of the market and even destroying a few brick bancas in the very center. 

The air was still hot and smoky.  A few timbers were still smoldering and sending out ash.  People were milling around and gawking.  Plenty of kids were out, playing in the ashes.  Nobody, it seemed, had been hurt.  Mostly, the fire just seemed to have created a lot of excitement.  The fire had happened hours before, but it was still a big event. 

We went to visit some of our friends in the marketplace, all of whom seemed to have escaped the worst of the damage.  Sebastion’s banca was an island in a sea of burned ground.  Jorge’s shop was fine, too, and Danny’s, as well. 

“Were you here?” I asked our friends, when we stopped by to visit.  “Did you run away?”

“Of course we didn’t run away,” they said.  “We had to protect our stores.”

We were glad to hear that nobody had been hurt, and we were relieved to see that so many of the big bancas had been spared. 

“Thank goodness the fire didn’t enter your store,” I said to Danny, looking around at the shelves of stock and products.  "You would have lost everything.  And you would have been trapped!  I can’t believe that you didn’t run away.”

“My whole life is in my store,” said Danny. 

Sebastion agreed, and then added:

“Run away?  I would rather die in my banca.”

We're still unsure about how many goods and products were actually lost in the fire.  Entire stalls were burned to the ground, but their owners escaped unharmed.  Did our friend Bright manage to escape with his stock of flip-flops and tupperware?  Did Raimundo escape with all of his capulanas?  What about Eric and his collection of cheap Chinese bras?  We weren't sure, and the owners were nowhere to be found.  

It was clear that the used clothes had burned too quickly to be saved.  The old boxcar that served as a calamidades storage shed was now nothing more than a twisted pile of tin and smoldering fluff.  

Our town's reaction has been interesting.  Most of the adults have been milling around, shaking their heads.  

"Terrible," they say.  "Just terrible."

Vendors are already hard at work, tearing down their old, ruined stalls and beginning to build anew.

The kids, on the other hand, seem to be pretty excited.  Hordes of children can be found in all corners of the market, pushing their toy cars through the cinders and scrounging for bottles and other broken things.  It's a dirty job, but their search yields all sorts of hidden treasures-- cans, glass, and bits of wire.  

Hope from the ashes, I guess.

The old market:  Bamboo stalls, thatched roofs, and plenty of flammable goods

The old market:  A shot of the market in February 2012.  Note the system of inter-connected thatched roofs

The new market:  A shot of the market after the fire

A view of the market after the fire

Sebastion's banca, ironically named "The Lonely Banca."

A view of the market (fish stalls) after the fire.  Note the missing electric line on the upper right.  It burned away.

A view of the  market (fish stalls) after the fire.  The fire started on the left-hand side of the frame and rapidly moved to towards the back.  

Remnants of a small, tin banca

The bread stall (left) and Jerusalem Banca (right).  A child picks through the ashes, searching for bits and toys.

Mozambique Mosaic

I find joy in taking pictures.

I am proud of the work that I do here in Africa, and, while that work primarily signifies my job as an eighth-grade English teacher, it also includes the pictures that I take and share with friends and family at home.  After all, the Third Goal of the Peace Corps Experience is to:

"Help promote a better understanding of other 

peoples on the part of the Americans"

Last month, I was giddy and honored to be contacted by an Jacqui Taylor, a Harare-based illustrator, about the use of my photos for her latest project.  The project, a book entitled "Mozambique Mosaic," is about the material art and culture of Mozambique.  It covers nearly every topic imaginable, from fishing and hunting to instruments and hand-made toys.  Written by Henrik Ellert and illustrated by Jacqui Taylor, the book is expected to be published in early 2013.

http://mozambiquemosaic.com/

Between thirty and forty of my photographs will be used in the final publication, and full credit will be granted with the inclusion of every picture.  In addition, I will be given a free copy of the book to share with my family and another copy to leave with my community.

I am thrilled to think of the pride and excitement that will sweep through my neighborhood when I show my kids that they are featured in a book.  A real, official, printed, grown-up book!  It will be such a source of pride for the entire community, and especially for the children themselves.  I am so happy that I could cry.

Here is a link to Jacqui Taylor's webpage, featuring some of her best illustrations and designs:

  http://www.jacqui-taylor.com/

Below are a few of the photographs that have been selected to be published.  The majority of these photographs have come from three sources: Toys (June 2012), Food (August 2012), and The Market (February 2012).

For those who are interested, stay posted for more information on how to order a copy of "Mozambique Mosaic."  The book is currently over 400 pages long and promises to become one of the most intricate, comprehensive works ever published on the country of Mozambique.  Also, perhaps more importantly, stay posted for pictures of my youngest Mozambican friends as they come face-to-face with their own portraits in a real, honest-to-goodness book. 

Celebrations

National holidays are a little different in Mozambique.  

Masked Dancer:  September 2012

The day starts in the town square.   A steady stream of people (teachers, students, and other dedicated townsfolk) congregate slowly along the main road, piling onto and around the large, cement star that serves as the town's official meeting-place.  The ceremony is opened by the border guards, who march forward (arms and feet flapping) to lay a wreath at the foot of the cement star.  Then, a "Schedule of Activities" is read by the Cultural Coordinator of the local school. This is followed by a string of political speeches, which invariably end in a round of fist-pumping and cheering:

Orator:  "Long live our president, Armando Emilio Guebuza, Hoye!"
Crowd:  (Fist pump)  "Hoye!"
Orator:  "Long live Mozambique, Hoye!"
Crowd:  (Fist pump)  "Hoye!"
Orator:  "FRELIMO Party, Hoye!"
Crowd:  (Fist pump)  "Hoye!"
Orator:  "Zobue, Hoye!"
Crowd:  (Fist pump)  "Hoye!"

The children, especially, like to yell "Hoye."  It's the only part of the speeches that they can actually understand, and it is definitely the most rousing.

After the speeches, the high school performance groups take the stage to present their skits and holiday-themed dances. This is the best part of the whole affair, and everyone gets pretty excited about it.  The REDES girls go first, marshaled by their high school gym teacher and cheered on by their Peace Corps supporters.  The girls present a few songs and dances and then sashay out of the circle, replaced by the boys and girls of JUNTOS.  The JUNTOS group, primarily a theater group, presents their skits in a combination of Portuguese language and dialect.  The skits are loosely related to the theme of the holiday and are usually met with raucous, uproarious laughter from the audience. Finally, the English Theater group takes the stage for a short, sample demonstration of their holiday cheer.  The students sing a few simple songs in English and then dance away, waving over their shoulders.  And, just like that, the event is over.  Students and teachers mingle and then disperse, flowing in streams along the road and out into the neighborhoods.

The crowd at the big cement star

Celebrating a successful performance

The rest of the day gets pretty raucous.  School is cancelled, of course, and the students can be found all over town.  The local bars crank up their stereo systems and start blasting music from America, Malawi, and Zimbabwe.  Large crates of beer appear out of nowhere and neighbors start handing out their home-made brew. Before long, the whole town is in shambles.  Even the local administrators start to look a little blurry-eyed.

The most recent holiday in Mozambique was on September 7th.  Known as "Victory Day," this holiday commemorates the end of the Mozambican War of Independence.  It is followed closely by Revolution Day, September 25, and the Day of Peace, October 4.  Then, on October 12, school shuts down for the fourth time in four weeks, this time to celebrate Teacher's Day. This final holiday, synonymous with feasting, drinking, and revelry, signals the beginning of the end of the 2012 school year.  As the festivities become more and more frequent, the concept of "school" starts to disintegrate.

During this most recent holiday, Dan and I were lucky enough to see and photograph the masked dancers of the Nyau.  The Nyau are members of a secret society and are symbols of the Chewa culture in Malawi, Zambia, and Mozambique.  Usually brandishing machetes or sticks, they slash and charge at the crowd, forcing them to move away and keep their distance.  The dancers are widely feared in this part of Mozambique, and they are not to be taken lightly.  Last Friday was the first time that I got a chance to take photographs at close range, and I nearly got trampled in the process.

My first interaction with the Nyau:  May 2012

http://lisajospencer.blogspot.com/2012/05/culture-and-nyau.html

The Nyau arrived in the mid-afternoon.  Their arrival was heralded by loud whoop-ing and clapping, followed the shk-shk-sht of dried beans in a can.  A crowd of people stampeded around them, first running away, then running behind, a set of six costumed dancers.  When the Nyau settled into their dancing spot, they were encircled by an audience of adult men.  Women and children were allowed to watch, too, but only from a greater distance.

Teenage boys began to beat on animal skin drums as the Nyau entered the circle, one by one.  Each dancer entered in a swirl of skirts, waving their sticks and stomping their feet.  Junior members of the society, young men in plain clothes, stood between the dancers and the crowd, warding off the "creatures" with rattles made of beans.  In response to the noise of the rattles, the dancers kicked and growled and yelled.  They charged at the crowd and made threatening gestures, daring the audience to try and make eye contact.  From time to time, an idle dancer from the back of the circle would charge at the audience, too, causing the shape of the circle to shift.  Wide-eyed children watched from the sidelines.

Because I am a foreigner and because I had a camera, I was exempt from the male-only rule of the inner circle.  Instead of being relegated to the back of the crowd, I was ushered to the very front.  The man who brought me into the circle, a slightly tipsy town administrator, urged me to take photo after photo.

"That one, there," he said.  "Take a picture of that one.  Look, that one fell down.  Get a photograph."

I was not exempt from being charged, however, and I was on multiple occasions.  Every time that a masked dancer would turn and run towards me, the administrator would take me by the arm and yank me into the retreating crowd.  Then, we would both laugh and resume our positions.

In spite of these rather precarious interactions, I got a few really great photographs.  I promised the administrator that I would provide copies of the photos for him and for the rest of the town.  I then turned and went home, my camera tucked safely away in my purse.  I was bruised and a little dusty, but feeling extremely satisfied.

A Masked Dancer asks for money.  

Masked Dancers waiting for their turn to dance.  The man in the background is a junior member of the society, tasked with dusting the dancers with dirt before, after, and even during their performance pieces.

Run away!  Getting charged by the Nyau.

A Single Girl's Guide to Sleeping Alone in Africa

As a married volunteer, I'm lucky in that my roommate situation is guaranteed from the very beginning of service.   Some volunteers will end up living with other volunteers, some will live with Mozambicans, and others will live by themselves.  I get to live with my best friend, which makes that part of my life a little bit easier.

I will admit, however, that I have been looking forward to this weekend.  Dan is in Chimoio from Friday until Sunday, which means that I have the house to myself for nearly 58 hours.  At first, I considered going with him.  Chimoio is the capital of Manica province and has all sorts of good things—Indian food, ice cream, Internet—for the deprived and greedy volunteer.  In the end, though, I decided to stay behind and enjoy my free time.   For the first time ever, I was going to act the part of a single white female, living alone in Africa.  

At the beginning of the day, I took my job very seriously.  I started by eating a spoonful of Malawi peanut butter directly from the jar.  Then, I walked to the market and bought a pack of crackers.  I chose not to cook lunch for myself, opting instead to read sixteen chapters of Harry Potter e a Cámara Secreta.

As the day wore on, however, my joy became tainted with paranoia.  The energy had been out all day and I realized that the possibility of spending the night alone—in the dark—was quickly becoming a reality.  My priorities shifted.  Suddenly, I was nailing windows shut, fishing for candles, and asking the neighbor boy to come and look under the bed in the back room. 

The energy has since returned (it returned in a whoosh of lamps and stereos that made all the children cheer), but this single white female has found it hard to go to sleep.  Instead, she found herself curled up under the mosquito net, writing “The Single Girl’s Guide to Sleeping Alone in Africa” (alternately titled, “What’s that Noise!?”), by the light of not one, but two electric bulbs.  Here’s an excerpt of this latest literary masterpiece:

*          *          *          *          *

Description of Noise

There are lots of scary noises in the middle of the night!  Most of these noises have natural causes and have little or nothing to do with the man that is standing outside your window.  Use this handy guide to find a rational explanation for the sounds that are keeping you awake!

A Sudden, Loud CRACK

• Inside the House:  Don’t worry!  What you heard were pieces of the house breaking off and falling down.  There should be no problems as long as the resulting holes are not large enough to crawl through. 
• Outside the House:  Not your problem.  What’s outside can’t get in (unless, of course, that hole was large enough to crawl through…)
• On the Roof:  Probably just children throwing bricks onto your tin roof.  They’re just being friendly!

Strange Hissing Noises

• Gas leak, hissing cockroaches, or Mozambican spitting cobras.  Just watch where you put your feet.

Rattling on the Grate

• Probably just the dog, sleeping against the door.  When the dog scratches his fleas, it rattles the metal grate and makes a sound suspiciously like a tall man with a machete trying to get in.  But it’s not!  Usually…

 Loud, Repetitive Wailing

• It’s time to pray!  The Muslim call to prayer sounds five times a day between 5AM and 10PM. 

Sharp, Sudden Screams in the Yard

• The next door neighbor is probably bewitched, again.  Don’t go outside or you’ll get bewitched, too!

*          *          *          *          *

That’s all I have for now, but I’m sure that the list of strange noises will grow as the night wears on.  Trust me, I hear all of them.  There is also the “Was that me who just shook the bed?” sensation and the “Now it’s quiet.  Too quiet.”  sensation.  The night crawls by, inch by inch, on little, itchy cockroach legs.

I’m not really a single girl in Africa, of course.  But I am discovering just how hard it can be.  As such, I’d like to dedicate this small post to my good friend Steph Newton, who really does spend every night alone in the dark.  Not only is she surviving, but she is succeeding and doing good work.   There are many different types of bravery, and the ladies of the Peace Corps are some of the most courageous young women that I have ever met.    

If you’d like to read about a single woman living alone in a village without electricity, try reading Steph’s blog, here: 

http://thedailybucketbath.blogspot.com/

She’s upbeat, smart, and funny, which always makes for a good read.  

A Condusive Life

This is Zachariah. 

Zachariah Lapiassi, Age 21

He is one of our closest friends at site and one of the very best people we have ever met.  He speaks English fluently, as well as Portuguese and Chi-Chewa.  He attends church every Saturday and is perfectly, impeccably, honest and good.

I wrote about him, before, last January, when he first told me about his life and his many, compounding difficulties.  At the time, he was doing data entry for a small construction business.  He was earning very little money and struggling with illness from the water in the city.  He was “suffering” from the “fierce heat of the sun” and “feeble” from “non-viscous excrement.”  He was wholly miserable, and there was little that we could do to help.

In June, Zachariah lost his job.  Caught between his Portuguese bosses and his Mozambican co-workers, he felt as if he had no choice but to take the most honorable route and resign from his position.  He moved back to his family farm in the village of Tchessa (5 kilometers outside of Zobue) and started selling gasoline on the highway. 

“Help me, Lisa,” he said.  “I beseech you.  Can you help me advance my life?”

I wanted to, but I couldn’t.  I didn’t have any connections in town and I didn’t have any ideas.  There was nothing I could do. 

Then Dan and I received a text from a missionary family on the outskirts of Tete City.

“We’ve been reading your blog,” the message read, “and we were wondering if your friend Zachariah would be interested in working for our church.  We are looking for an interpreter.”

I jumped straight up in the air and clapped my hands.

“Yes, yes!” I said to Dan.  “Tell them yes!”

And so the second saga of Zach’s adventure began.  On Tuesday morning, he packed two pairs of slacks and took a chapa to Moatize.  By Wednesday afternoon, he had already started working.  He is now officially a translator for the Church of God in Christ, Mennonite.  If all goes well, he will transfer to the next missionary, and then the next, and the next.  We can only pray. 

It is the best possible job in the world for Zachariah, and an opportunity that he truly deserves.  I can’t think of anyone who speaks English better than he does, or anybody who is more devoted to their church.  I believe that he will be successful, and I am so, so, so proud of him.  His whole life is just beginning. 

In honor of Zachariah and his big, exciting success, I want to publish an essay that he wrote for me on the topic of Mozambique.  This essay, more than anything I could possibly write myself, really illustrates the depth of his language skills and earnest nature of his character.  He wrote this essay after I prompted him to find more information on this history of Mozambique.  Everything in this composition—the pictures, the vocabulary lists, the funny, old-fashioned language—is his and his alone. 

Read, enjoy, and learn!  This is our friend, Zachariah. 

________________________________________________________________

The History of Mozambique

Life in the Olden Days

I am cajoled by your supplication, Lisa, that you want to know about how people lived in the past—

Zachariah Lupia Lapiassi

Before the emerge of maize seed and other seeds we see now, people were not tilling ground at all but, instead, were nourishing the following foods:  chitedize, calongonda, yams, mpama, bamboo ears, and wild fruit.   Because there was no maize, tender/fresh bamboo was smashed to flour for xima preparation.

When corn emerged there were no mortars or maize mills.  People would soak the maize in water for it to turn soft and then they would take it to the grinding place and rub it with a grind stone into powder.  Then xima was made in clay pots.  Indeed, it was a dreadful age.

There was no fire in the past but man’s brain gradually began to be witful.  People discovered that tenderly dried pieces of bamboo were a source of fire.  The bamboo would be cut to pieces about the size of a bamboo node and another would be cut and made thinner with a pike at one end.  The stout piece was bored in the middle to place the spike in there and therefore a man would rub the thinner one against the whole of the stout one.  The friction would render the crumbs to be glowing with heat and then the glowing crumbs would trigger fire to burn.  Underneath the stout bamboo there were some tiny nyanda pieces placed to kindle easily.

There was no metal after the introduction of corn.  Therefore persons used branches of trees to till the soil for the corn. 

There were no clothes here!  People used to wear nyanda to cover their nudity.  They were not able to find enough nyanda to cover the whole body so they would use the nyanda as a loin-cloth.  This is an appalling story.  They were unable to assuage the plight. 

Soap was not found at all but people used bwazi and chipuzi to cleanse the stubborn stains in their clothes and nyanda.  First was nyanda because cloth came later.

Houses were not as we behold now.  There were only molded houses not topped with grass as we see but they were oval-like on top.  Then after molding in that manner the houses were burned in and out to make it hardened as a pot for curry so that the rain drops would pound the top of the houses with vehemence with no harm. 

But with the introduction of metal people began to make arrows and the spirit of killing became common.  The matter was to scramble for women because men would try to marry many women.  Every man was supposed to walk with a spear to fend off himself unless he dies and then the killer would take the deceased’s wife as his wife.  Your enemy would come at night with a spear and get on top of your house thereby trying to bore the top of your house even trying to urinate in the hole in order to break through the house top-soil layer so that he can impale you and take your wife.  There was no unison but violence then. 

People were becoming able to make gun-powder using the salt-like substances formed on dried rock puddles and in caves.  They would take the salt-like matter and mix it with the well-roasted dry part of the bark of chatowa with some water added.  This is even used nowadays with people but it’s not publicly done.

Salt for the curry was not available but people used a certain plant that grows in water as salt.  They would dry it and then burn it to ashes and the ashes were put on a bamboo plate with some water so that the bamboo vessel would leak salt-like juices for the preparation of curry (as shown in the following illustration).  The name of the plant is mwerere.

There is a need of translation for these words to you:

Bwazi:  Bark (a shrub whose root-barks and stem-barks produce bubbles as soap)

Chipuzi:  Wild cucumber

Mwerere:  A plant found in rivers in which the ashes produce salty juice

Mpama:  Creepers (like yams, eaten in times of scarcity)

Matowa:  A tree fruit (like chewing gum but more sticky)

Chatowa:  A tree that exudes white glue used in catching birds

Nyanda:  A loin-cloth, cloth made from bark of a tree, mainly a fibrous one

I, Zachariah, am completely humble because with your request, Lisa, I have learned deep things which I did not know at all in life.  Please confine this in your mind and tell your siblings and parents about the past life here in Tete more specifically Zobue.  Now I close out with my assignment. 

Good Lucky!

--Zachariah Lupia Lapiassi

_______________________________________________________________________________

So here's to Zachariah.  Here's to his new job, his future prospects, and his funny, funny English.  Of equal importance, here's to all of the Peace Corps Volunteers who sat with him, talked to him, and nurtured his love of learning.  I believe that the Peace Corps can make a difference, and I believe that Zachariah is living proof of the positive effects of grass-roots development.

Thank you Chelsea, Katie, Angelina, Janet, Luke, and "Mr. Jordan".  He talks about you all the time!  Your time in Africa was meaningful and you are still important to the people who "knew you when."

Things I Wish I Had Known

In just one month, the newest education volunteers will arrive in Maputo, Mozambique.  This group will consist of 55 new volunteers and 12 transfer volunteers from Portuguese-speaking Cape Verde.  The trainees will fly into Maputo via Johannesburg and then be shipped off to Namaacha for ten weeks of intensive language and cultural training.  They will learn a totally new set of skills, including lessons on how to teach in Mozambique, how to communicate in Portuguese, how to teach in Portuguese, and how to bathe in a bucket.  As we prepare to greet this newest group of volunteers, Dan and I are also organizing our thoughts and pieces of advice.  We have learned a lot in this past year, and we have a lot of information to share. 

In honor of the newest group of volunteers, I want to share a list of things that I wish I had known before moving to Mozambique.  It’s difficult to get an accurate picture of Mozambique from just reading a few blogs, but I will try my hardest to get that picture across.

Things I Wish I had Known Before Moving to Mozambique:

Packing

Just about now, the newest training class is probably starting to read over the packing list provided by the Peace Corps Team in Mozambique.  It is a good list, but it can be a little overwhelming.  If an individual tried to pack every single item on that list, he would quickly find himself overwhelmed by his own stuff.  The following list is clarification of important (and not important) items, based on my everyday life here in Mozambique:

To Bring

•  Laptop Computer-  You will use your computer in Mozambique.  90-95% of sites have at least intermittent electricity and Namaacha is fully electrified.  Bring your computer to share pictures from home, to save new pictures, and to watch movies and TV shows.  Also, most of us use computers for school.  It is much easier to calculate grades using MS Excel than by using a paper and pencil.
• External Hard Drive-  Peace Corps Mozambique loves TV.  Most of us will travel with our external hard drives and stock up on new shows everywhere that we go.  For future reference, Peace Corps Mozambique loves Modern Family, Mad Men, Glee, Game of Thrones, and How I Met Your Mother.  Most volunteers are in their houses by 7PM, so a good television show makes a good friend after dark. 
• Digital Camera-  The best way to record your Peace Corps experience is with a digital camera.  The scenery is beautiful and the kids are cute.  Don’t worry if you have a big, expensive camera.  Buy insurance and bring it along.  You will be sorry if you don’t.
• Your Hobbies- You will work hard in Mozambique, but there will also be a lot of quiet time.  Bring hobby materials with you.  Your hobbies will make you happy, reinforce your sense of self, and give you something to share with your new community.

Little Extras

• Kindle or Nook-  Nice to have and very lightweight. 
• Bug Tent-  For easy traveling.  Also good for guests.
• Lightweight Sleeping Bag-  For easy traveling.
• Pictures from Home-  Great for showing off your family and for starting conversations.  Your students will like them, too.
• Spices-  Most spices are available in Mozambique, but some spices are hard-to-find or rather expensive.  Spices are light, so bring a few of your favorites with you.
• Make-up and Jewelry-  You will want to be pretty and professional at work and at conferences.  Bring things that will make you feel like yourself. 

Things That You Can Actually Buy in Mozambique

• Clothing-  Clearly, you should bring your own clothing from the United States.  It would be silly to buy a whole new wardrobe upon your arrival.  That being said, however, please remember that you don’t need to pack every article of clothing that you have ever owned.  A few nice shirts and skirts, a few nice pairs of jeans, and a couple of sturdy pairs of shoes will actually suffice.  You can buy any article of clothing in Mozambique, and, if you don’t mind buying it used, you can do it very, very cheaply.  Your living space will be cramped and, in the first couple of months, you will be lugging your things around a lot.  Make your life easier and limit the number of clothes that you bring.
• Soap, shampoo, toothpaste, and deodorant-  All of these things can be bought in Mozambique.  Bring enough shampoo and deodorant to last you through the first few weeks of training, but don’t worry about supplying yourself for the next two years. 
• School supplies-  Peace Corps supplies you with plenty of pens and notebooks during the course of your training.  Your school should supply you with the rest—textbooks, chalk, erasers, etc.

You can buy almost anything in Mozambique, so don’t panic about your packing list.  I have bought sweaters, jeans, shoes, shirts, dresses, socks, flip-flops, hats, and even a swimsuit here in Mozambique.  You can buy specialty items, as well, including perfume and solar chargers.  Remember, you are moving to a country that is developing rapidly.  All of the big cities have a supermarket and even the smallest sites have a small marketplace.  You will be able to find almost everything that you need.

One final piece of advice:

When packing your bags, just assume that anything that is going with you is not coming back.  Things will break, deteriorate, get lost, or get stolen.  You will give things away when it is time to leave.  Some things you simply won’t want anymore.  Pack like it is never coming back.

Contact and Electronics

One of the biggest misconceptions about serving in Peace Corps Mozambique is that communication will be spotty or non-existent.  Mozambique is actually developing very rapidly, and connectivity is getting better and better.  You will want to know the following information:

There are three network carriers in Mozambique:  MCel, Vodacom, and Movitel.  The newest carrier, Movitel, provides cell service and fast internet to some of the most remote towns in Mozambique.  Peace Corps will no longer be placing volunteers in sites without phone service, so every volunteer will have access to at least one of these carriers. 

During their second week of training, new volunteers will be taken to Maputo to purchase a Mozambican phone and to set up their phone plans.  Every volunteer receives about $4 a month to pay for phone credit for calls within country and most volunteers use their phones every day.  The Medical Office, Safety and Security Office, and the Country Director are all available by telephone at a moment’s notice.  Friends and family from the States can also call volunteers using Google Voice ($0.12/minute for Movitel, $0.13/minute for MCel, or $0.24/minute for Vodacom) or Skype. 

A USB modem can be purchased in any large city to provide Internet at home.  Internet plans vary between the three network carriers but the best plan is currently with Movitel, who provides a 1GB/1 Month plan for 600 Meticais ($22).  Prices continue to drop as competition between the three carriers gets more intense.  Many volunteers also have an Internet phone for email and Facebook. 

Some volunteers (like yours truly) are online every day.  Most talk to their families about once a week.  Communication is expanding rapidly in Mozambique.  Parents, please don’t worry.  Your child is not going to disappear!

Safety and Security

It’s so easy to feel scared when you are learning about a country from afar.  Reports on rape and theft and vehicle accidents can play over and over in your mind until it seems like these events are commonplace, even imminent.  I want to let you know that this is not the case.  Things feel very different when you are actually living in that country.  Things start to feel normal.  I feel safe in Mozambique, and you will too.  Let’s take a good hard look at the three main threats to Peace Corps Volunteers living and working in Mozambique.

o   Burglary and Theft

Theft is the most common threat to volunteers in Mozambique.  It is very common to have something stolen (either from your person or from your home) and most volunteers will lose something in the course of their two-year service.  That being said, most incidents are small.  Some volunteers will have a clothesline stolen from their front yard.  Other volunteers will lose a sock or a spoon from the drying bin.  Others will have money stolen from their pocket or a phone taken out of their bag.  The most important thing to remember is that thieves do not mean this personally.  They want to use your stuff or sell it to try to improve their own financial situation.  It’s not because they hate you.   In most cases, they don’t even know you.  It happens to other Mozambicans, too. 

o   Sexual Assault

Sexual assault is not very common in Mozambique, but a volunteer should take precautions just as they would in their own American hometown.  Take a cab, stay with the group, and keep your wits about you.  Your behavior is your own responsibility.  There will always be bad people in the world, but there is no more evil in Mozambique than there is in America.

o   Transportation

Transportation is certainly a bit rickety in Mozambique.  Many vehicles are cheap hand-me-downs from other, wealthier nations and are subject to all sorts of interesting malfunctions.  Chapas go too quickly, trucks go too slowly, and everyone seems to drive like a teenager with a brand-new driver’s license.  There are no passing lanes, so a head-on collision always seems like an imminent possibility.  Strangely, though, all of us volunteers have found a way to accept our travel situation.  How is that possible?  Though a combination of pickiness, resignation, and faith, that’s how.  This is the Serenity Prayer for Travel in Mozambique:

Grant me the serenity to accept the vehicles I cannot change

The courage to change vehicles when I can

And the Wisdom to make the most informed decision 

when traveling on the road

While there are dangers in Mozambique, I want to reiterate that is no more evil in Mozambique than there is in America.  Africa is not some dark, scary continent that seeks to devour the American adventurer—it’s a continent of real people living real, ordinary lives.  You will be surprised by how quickly your life starts to feel normal.  You will sleep at night, I promise.

More advice

•  It gets cold in Mozambique!  Bring a warm jacket and a pair of fluffy socks. 
• It gets hot in Mozambique!  Be prepared for that, as well.  
•  Practice your Portuguese!  The more you know, the less awkward your first few days are going to be.  
• Get excited!  Peace Corps Mozambique is one of the very best Peace Corps countries (No, really.  I wish they gave awards for this sort of thing).  The country is gorgeous, the people are friendly, and the staff is exceptional.  Welcome aboard!  We are excited to meet you!

Water

Winter is drawing to a close.  Gone are the clear, frigid mornings where cook-fire smoke spreads low along the ground.  Gone are the woolen hats and bulky second-hand coats.  The people of Zobue wake up earlier now, since it's warm at the break of dawn.  By mid-morning, the neighborhood is hot and bright.  My students have started bringing sweat rags to school.  

The change in the seasons has brought about one striking realization-- Zobue is bone dry.  As the winter pulls away, an entirely new town is left in its wake.  All of the cornfields have been stripped bare and replaced with skeletal, rattling rows of pigeon peas.  The air is gritty with dust. The mountainsides are turning yellow and the wells are running dry.  Everyone is waiting for the rain. 

There's a charm to Zobue at this time of year.  Most of the fields are lying low and empty, so one can see for miles.  The hiking is amazing, and the scope of the landscape is wide.  We've done some of our best exploring in the past couple of months.  

Unfortunately, the water situation is getting difficult.  The wells in our town have been running dry, one by one.  The water in the well next door is now nothing more than a thick, brown sludge.  Our landlady has asked us to retrieve our water elsewhere, so that we might leave the remaining bits of water for her and her family.  The pump at the school has all but run dry, with a few hefty pumps yielding no more than a trickle of brown water.  Families have started guarding their water supply and charging money for the use of their wells.  Our waterboys now walk for nearly a kilometer to fetch the water that we use at our house.

The present water situation has forced us to re-evaluate the way that we use water.  We were never wasteful, but now we are downright frugal.  Almost every cup of water is used twice, with the exception of drinking water.  Dan and I did a water survey over the past week to see how much (and how) we use our water, and we discovered that in the course of an average given week, we use about 180 liters of water.  This means that Seni and Romao are dragging nine 20-liter buckets up our front steps, every week. 

In our house, water is reused in the following ways:

Bathwater  -->  used to wash laundry, to rinse dishes, or to wash out the chamberpot

Dishwater  -->  used to rinse other dishes or to wash out the chamberpot

Laundry Water  -->  used to wash the floor

It is interesting to note that 180 liters of water are equal to approximately 50 gallons of water. This means that Dan and I are each using 3.5 gallons of water every day.  It is probably still too much.

The photographs below illustrate the following two themes:

Zobue in the Dry Season

and

A Comparison of Water Use

For more information on water, water usage comparisons, and water consumption, visit Water Footprint or The Water Organization. 

The sandy topsoil in Zobue

A little horned lizard enjoying the sunlight

The dry season is brick-making season.  The clay for these bricks is dug from the substrate,
 then shaped with molds and dried in rows.  

Scenes of Wintertime in Zobue:
1.  Carrying water from the pump (note that the figures on her T-shirt are also carrying water)
2.  Dried bricks stacked behind the pit from which they were dug.
Bricks are stacked in this way to limit their contact with the ground
3.  Pigeon peas planted in rows.  

A small family compound between the mountains.  Note the dried grass and the color of the landscape.

Hiking in the mountains.  Again, note the dried grass and the color of the landscape.

Despite the dry heat, a few flowers are still in bloom

All of them are yellow

The "river" in Zobue.  The stretch of water on the left is milky with soap.  This is where
Romao washes his clothes.  The stretch on the right is used for "bathing only, not drinking."

Typical well in a family compound.  Usually between twenty and thirty feet deep.

Left:  Community water pump at the high school.  Note the trickle of water flowing from the spout.

Right:  Carrying water home from the pump.  20 liters of water weigh about 44 pounds.

Average Water Use in America (per person).  These are very round estimates, based on information from several sources, including Water Use at USGS .  Note that EACH DROP is equal to ONE GALLON of water.

Average Water Use in Mozambique (per person).  These estimates are based on my own personal
experience in Mozambique, and would vary from one person to another.  Note that EACH DROP
is equal to ONE CUP of water.

Because the water drops in the previous illustrations symbolize different volumes (1 gallon versus 1 cup), I made this second graph to show a direct comparison between water use in Mozambique and water use in the United States.

This graph, entitled WORLD WATER USE, is from World Mapper.  According to the description, four thousand cubic kilometers of water are used by people each year around the world.   On the map, the size of the territory is proportional to the amount of water consumed by the countries of that region.