October 18
My classes officially ended on October 16, although a majority of students and teachers stopped coming to school near the end of September. The point is, however, that as of October 16 I officially completed one year of teaching ninth grade chemistry in Mozambique. Luckily (or maybe unluckily) for me ninth graders do not take a national exam so I do not really have anyway to evaluate the effectiveness of my teaching. Were I to give myself a self-evaluation however, in would be glowing (except for the first trimester when I could not speak Portuguese to save my life).
The end of a year of teaching in Mozambique is not all fun and games. To make a broad generalization about Mozambican students (which is a bad way to consider people of any nationality) they do not study, and they are always unhappy with their grades. As a result, I have spent the last week dealing with students and their bad grades. I have to explain to them that they did not study during the year, they cheated or tried to cheat on all of my tests, they do not know anything about chemistry and they do not deserve to pass. This kind of reasoning blows their minds, in large part because many of my colleagues give students completely underserved “help” at the end of the year – which allows them to pass, thus moving on to the next grade without knowing anything. To be frank, the education system in this country leaves a lot to be desired.
Students result to some pretty desperate measures at this time of year, in fact I would not hesitate to say that most of many students put more effort into trying to get me to “help” their grade than actually studying during the year. Some students offer to buy me things, some offer other kinds of favors I even had one student forge a letter from my school director (signature and all) that mandated I change his grade. For me it is all just an exercise in saying no, and thanks to all those anti-drug campaigns in elementary school (“just say no!”) I am well practiced.
I think I mentioned something in my last post about my electricity problems, they have been taken care of (thank goodness) and I am once again living happily in Gondola.
My birthday came and went at the end of September (kudos to all of you who remembered and shame on those of you who did not). The literal Portuguese translation for getting older is: “I did years”. So I did years here in Mozambique, and I have to say it was a nice birthday. There was a gathering of Peace Corps Volunteers the weekend before and we all went out for pizza in the city. The actual day of my birthday I taught six classes (and did not tell my students because a bunch of them are older than me and it would be kind of awkward for them to know my age) and my roommate (who a year ago could not have made grilled cheese) cooked an excellent dinner of spaghetti and meatballs.
Elections (which I mentioned last time) are coming up in about a week and they are really consuming the country at the moment. As per Peace Corps policy I do not have an opinion about Mozambican politics, though I do hope the various parties can avoid any kind of violence. The combination of imminent Mozambican presidential elections and the latest dose of trouble in Zimbabwe has us (PCVs) on relatively high security alert – which, in addition to our heightened vigilance means we are not supposed to leave site.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Monday, September 21, 2009
September 20
I have not had much of a chance to update this thing because the electricity in my house in Gondola was disconnected (but I will get to that later).
The end of August saw me in Maputo (Mozambique’s capital city) for the first time in nine months. Maputo is just a few hours from the South Africa border, and there are some aspects of the city that are relatively westernized (there are also many aspects that are very third-world). I have to admit that after living in central Mozambique for nine months I received a healthy dose of culture shock (which was not necessarily a bad thing). I relished experiences that I never thought I would (sitting in traffic, for instance) as well as experiences that have been absent from my life for quite some time (like eating ice cream and bacon – though not at the same time). A few days in the capital were a nice break from day-to-day life.
Following my time in Maputo my roommate and I (but mostly him) were graced with the presence of his girlfriend. It was nice to have a new person around and she injected some excitement into our lives (again mostly his). The presence of an American girl at site brought an onslaught of questions my way (in my experience, when it comes to asking questions Mozambicans generally are extremely intrusive and completely without tact) regarding my girlfriend and when she is coming to visit. I do not have a girlfriend, thus this line of questioning (which continues as I write this; three weeks later) made me feel bad about the current state of my personal life. Anyway, Gondola is not much of a tourist destination, so following a few days at site; David (my roommate) and his girlfriend went off traveling to the more tourist friendly parts of Mozambique.
Almost immediately following their exit I was greeted at the door by a worker for E.D.M - the national electricity company that provides power to most of Mozambique. This man informed me that my school had failed to pay the electric bill for five months and he was disconnecting my electricity. Needless to say this was extremely inconvenient, given that, among other things, I have an electric stove. Later that day I chatted with my school director and he claimed to have paid all of the energy bills. I have spent the last two weeks attempting (in vain) to get the energy in my house reconnected. I have been cooking with charcoal (or just eating uncooked food, because cooking with charcoal is a pain), taking cold showers, and reading by candlelight.
I am sure that the RPCVs (former PCVs) reading this are scoffing at my complaints about a lack of electricity, but in my defense: electricity is a very difficult thing to loose 1) in this day and age and 2) when you are supposed to have it.
In other news, the Presidential election campaign officially opened here in Mozambique about a week ago. This year will mark the 1st parliamentary election and 4th presidential election in the country’s history. Peace Corps forbid me from having an opinion about politics on this publicly accessible blog (I do however, have plenty of opinions). Mozambicans from various political parties tend to approach election season like a 24-hour-a-day college football tailgate (with rallies, parties and parades through the streets that keep me up at night). It is very different from our system, but exciting all the same.
I have not had much of a chance to update this thing because the electricity in my house in Gondola was disconnected (but I will get to that later).
The end of August saw me in Maputo (Mozambique’s capital city) for the first time in nine months. Maputo is just a few hours from the South Africa border, and there are some aspects of the city that are relatively westernized (there are also many aspects that are very third-world). I have to admit that after living in central Mozambique for nine months I received a healthy dose of culture shock (which was not necessarily a bad thing). I relished experiences that I never thought I would (sitting in traffic, for instance) as well as experiences that have been absent from my life for quite some time (like eating ice cream and bacon – though not at the same time). A few days in the capital were a nice break from day-to-day life.
Following my time in Maputo my roommate and I (but mostly him) were graced with the presence of his girlfriend. It was nice to have a new person around and she injected some excitement into our lives (again mostly his). The presence of an American girl at site brought an onslaught of questions my way (in my experience, when it comes to asking questions Mozambicans generally are extremely intrusive and completely without tact) regarding my girlfriend and when she is coming to visit. I do not have a girlfriend, thus this line of questioning (which continues as I write this; three weeks later) made me feel bad about the current state of my personal life. Anyway, Gondola is not much of a tourist destination, so following a few days at site; David (my roommate) and his girlfriend went off traveling to the more tourist friendly parts of Mozambique.
Almost immediately following their exit I was greeted at the door by a worker for E.D.M - the national electricity company that provides power to most of Mozambique. This man informed me that my school had failed to pay the electric bill for five months and he was disconnecting my electricity. Needless to say this was extremely inconvenient, given that, among other things, I have an electric stove. Later that day I chatted with my school director and he claimed to have paid all of the energy bills. I have spent the last two weeks attempting (in vain) to get the energy in my house reconnected. I have been cooking with charcoal (or just eating uncooked food, because cooking with charcoal is a pain), taking cold showers, and reading by candlelight.
I am sure that the RPCVs (former PCVs) reading this are scoffing at my complaints about a lack of electricity, but in my defense: electricity is a very difficult thing to loose 1) in this day and age and 2) when you are supposed to have it.
In other news, the Presidential election campaign officially opened here in Mozambique about a week ago. This year will mark the 1st parliamentary election and 4th presidential election in the country’s history. Peace Corps forbid me from having an opinion about politics on this publicly accessible blog (I do however, have plenty of opinions). Mozambicans from various political parties tend to approach election season like a 24-hour-a-day college football tailgate (with rallies, parties and parades through the streets that keep me up at night). It is very different from our system, but exciting all the same.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
August 20
It has been about a month; time to update the blog again. Today I am going to skip the quips that I usually open with and just jump right into it.
The third trimester of teaching has been interesting, in large part because my fellow teachers have not been paid in a few months, which is causing some problems. Apparently some clever people in the Provincial Education Ministry managed to steal/embezzle an enormous amount of money (somewhere in the neighborhood of $120,000) and the result is that the Provincial Education Ministry has stopped paying its teachers. My colleagues have been threatening to strike for quite a while, but the reality is that organized labor movements do not exist in Mozambique (or in Africa, for the most part). What really happens is that teachers go on individual strikes (which just means they don’t show up to teach – this actually happens quite a bit even when teachers are getting paid, but it is definitely worse now). There have been a few days of school in which I am the only teacher that shows up to teach (lucky for me, Peace Corps faithfully deposits my living allowance into my bank account every month) which makes me feel like a scab. In all likelihood this problem will not be resolved before the school year ends and many of my students will not have certain subjects for the remainder of this trimester. Unfortunately, this just perpetuates the huge education problem (perhaps huger than any other) in Mozambique that is improperly prepared students moving up grade levels (imagine trying to teach physics to students who don’t understand algebra, or even worse – teaching students (in any discipline) who don’t understand Portuguese).
The start of August marked the inauguration of a bridge traversing the Zambezi River at Caia. The Zambezi River cuts a half-mile wide swath between Northern and Central Mozambique and the aforementioned bridge means that it is now possible for a wheeled vehicle to drive the length of Mozambique without the necessity of getting on a ferry. It is actually a pretty exciting to see this kind of development (though it was primarily paid for by the European Union). I happened to be at a hotel (attending a conference in Northern Mozambique at the time) and every television I saw was playing the equivalent of Anchorman’s (the Will Ferrell movie) Panda Watch except for the bridge – which made it Ponte (bridge in Portuguese) Watch.
I recently read a book (Dark Star Safari) by former PCV and current author Paul Theroux, in which Theroux details his trials and tribulations on an overland trip from Cairo to Cape Town. For those of you who think African geography is unimportant, Cairo to Cape Town is more or less a north-south traverse of the African Continent. Anyway, I am sure Theroux’s experiences are more relevant and interesting to me (given that I am currently a PCV in Africa), but nonetheless it is a read that I would recommend (if only because many of his views mirror my own, and are expressed in such a way that I feel like I would express them if I were a good writer). To be clear, I understand the presumptuousness of making book recommendations (I do not have delusions about becoming an Oprah-like figure) and it probably will not happen again.
It has been about a month; time to update the blog again. Today I am going to skip the quips that I usually open with and just jump right into it.
The third trimester of teaching has been interesting, in large part because my fellow teachers have not been paid in a few months, which is causing some problems. Apparently some clever people in the Provincial Education Ministry managed to steal/embezzle an enormous amount of money (somewhere in the neighborhood of $120,000) and the result is that the Provincial Education Ministry has stopped paying its teachers. My colleagues have been threatening to strike for quite a while, but the reality is that organized labor movements do not exist in Mozambique (or in Africa, for the most part). What really happens is that teachers go on individual strikes (which just means they don’t show up to teach – this actually happens quite a bit even when teachers are getting paid, but it is definitely worse now). There have been a few days of school in which I am the only teacher that shows up to teach (lucky for me, Peace Corps faithfully deposits my living allowance into my bank account every month) which makes me feel like a scab. In all likelihood this problem will not be resolved before the school year ends and many of my students will not have certain subjects for the remainder of this trimester. Unfortunately, this just perpetuates the huge education problem (perhaps huger than any other) in Mozambique that is improperly prepared students moving up grade levels (imagine trying to teach physics to students who don’t understand algebra, or even worse – teaching students (in any discipline) who don’t understand Portuguese).
The start of August marked the inauguration of a bridge traversing the Zambezi River at Caia. The Zambezi River cuts a half-mile wide swath between Northern and Central Mozambique and the aforementioned bridge means that it is now possible for a wheeled vehicle to drive the length of Mozambique without the necessity of getting on a ferry. It is actually a pretty exciting to see this kind of development (though it was primarily paid for by the European Union). I happened to be at a hotel (attending a conference in Northern Mozambique at the time) and every television I saw was playing the equivalent of Anchorman’s (the Will Ferrell movie) Panda Watch except for the bridge – which made it Ponte (bridge in Portuguese) Watch.
I recently read a book (Dark Star Safari) by former PCV and current author Paul Theroux, in which Theroux details his trials and tribulations on an overland trip from Cairo to Cape Town. For those of you who think African geography is unimportant, Cairo to Cape Town is more or less a north-south traverse of the African Continent. Anyway, I am sure Theroux’s experiences are more relevant and interesting to me (given that I am currently a PCV in Africa), but nonetheless it is a read that I would recommend (if only because many of his views mirror my own, and are expressed in such a way that I feel like I would express them if I were a good writer). To be clear, I understand the presumptuousness of making book recommendations (I do not have delusions about becoming an Oprah-like figure) and it probably will not happen again.
Friday, July 24, 2009
July 24
I realize it has been quite some time since I wrote anything and given my penchant for living an extraordinarily exciting life (sarcasm) this blog entry could potentially go on for days. In the interest of time (and length) I will proceed to highlight the highlights.
I believe I last wrote about Mozambican Independence day, which would bring me back to June 25 and the penultimate week of my second trimester here in Mozambique.
After telling my students exactly what would be on the final exam, I still had plenty of students who cheated, plenty who failed, and just a few that appeared to have been listening during my lessons. However, I can say with confidence that my second trimester of teaching went a lot better than my first.
Following my final exam, I attended a Fourth of July party at a PCV site named Mangunde. At the Catholic Mission of Mangunde, I think I was as in the middle of nowhere as I have ever been, but the party (which included a Brazilian-style pig roast) was a lot of fun.
Although school officially ended July 10th the reality is that neither students nor teachers (except me of course) showed up for the last week. I actually went to school to turn in my grades the last day before break, and I had trouble finding someone to whom I could hand my grades.
I spent the first weekend of the holidays at a meeting regarding the future of a Peace Corps Project called JOMA (I wrote about it in an earlier post if you want to refer back). In general, Peace Corps Volunteers live in different places, have very different experiences, discover their own useful ways of dealing with said experiences, and always think they are right. The result was that not a whole lot was accomplished during the meeting, but we got some stuff done and the discourse got me thinking (mostly about how ineffective “development” is in Mozambique).
Following the JOMA meeting I caught a ride to Beira (Mozambique’s second largest city which also happens to be set in mosquito-ridden swamp on the Indian Ocean) to judge a Science Fair for Sofala Province. Many of the Mozambican students have quite a ways to go in terms of understanding the scientific method, but I think the science fair (and its accompanying prizes) motivated them to think about some interesting ideas. Among the top projects were: toothpaste made from banana peels and ash, a homemade pesticide, and a study about how public urination (a serious problem here) affects plant life. I also got to spend some time in Beira, the city is primarily known for its dilapidated colonial architecture (which can be appealing), and its abundance of stores (lots of stores is among the greatest assets a city can have here in Mozambique). Crumbling buildings aside, Beira is a vibrant and interesting city, boasting attractions such as a golf course, fountain, and a mall.
Following science fair cleanup I returned to Chimoio for a few days of relaxing and eating the cookies that were left over from science fair (I ate a lot of cookies). I also spent a day at Mercado 38, which is an enormous used clothing market outside of Chimoio (imagine a Goodwill Store the size of an oil tanker - the used clothing primarily comes from developed western nations i.e. U.S.A, Europe, Australia). Anyway, it is a fun place to go and if you look hard enough you can find some great stuff.
I left Chimoio early last week for a few days in Catandica, which is a small town at the foot of the Serashoa mountains on the Zimbabwe border (the spelling on that mountain range is almost certainly wrong). I went hiking with some other PCVs on the trails that lead up and over the mountains (and harbor mainly unofficial cross-border activity between Mozambique and Zimbabwe). We spoke Portuguese with Mozambicans, English with Zimbabweans and tried to toss in a word or two of Shona (which is the local dialect for much of Zimbabwe and this part of Mozambique). The mountains were gorgeous and I am pretty sure I saw 762 meter-high Matarazi Falls in the distance (the tallest waterfall in Zim).
I realize it has been quite some time since I wrote anything and given my penchant for living an extraordinarily exciting life (sarcasm) this blog entry could potentially go on for days. In the interest of time (and length) I will proceed to highlight the highlights.
I believe I last wrote about Mozambican Independence day, which would bring me back to June 25 and the penultimate week of my second trimester here in Mozambique.
After telling my students exactly what would be on the final exam, I still had plenty of students who cheated, plenty who failed, and just a few that appeared to have been listening during my lessons. However, I can say with confidence that my second trimester of teaching went a lot better than my first.
Following my final exam, I attended a Fourth of July party at a PCV site named Mangunde. At the Catholic Mission of Mangunde, I think I was as in the middle of nowhere as I have ever been, but the party (which included a Brazilian-style pig roast) was a lot of fun.
Although school officially ended July 10th the reality is that neither students nor teachers (except me of course) showed up for the last week. I actually went to school to turn in my grades the last day before break, and I had trouble finding someone to whom I could hand my grades.
I spent the first weekend of the holidays at a meeting regarding the future of a Peace Corps Project called JOMA (I wrote about it in an earlier post if you want to refer back). In general, Peace Corps Volunteers live in different places, have very different experiences, discover their own useful ways of dealing with said experiences, and always think they are right. The result was that not a whole lot was accomplished during the meeting, but we got some stuff done and the discourse got me thinking (mostly about how ineffective “development” is in Mozambique).
Following the JOMA meeting I caught a ride to Beira (Mozambique’s second largest city which also happens to be set in mosquito-ridden swamp on the Indian Ocean) to judge a Science Fair for Sofala Province. Many of the Mozambican students have quite a ways to go in terms of understanding the scientific method, but I think the science fair (and its accompanying prizes) motivated them to think about some interesting ideas. Among the top projects were: toothpaste made from banana peels and ash, a homemade pesticide, and a study about how public urination (a serious problem here) affects plant life. I also got to spend some time in Beira, the city is primarily known for its dilapidated colonial architecture (which can be appealing), and its abundance of stores (lots of stores is among the greatest assets a city can have here in Mozambique). Crumbling buildings aside, Beira is a vibrant and interesting city, boasting attractions such as a golf course, fountain, and a mall.
Following science fair cleanup I returned to Chimoio for a few days of relaxing and eating the cookies that were left over from science fair (I ate a lot of cookies). I also spent a day at Mercado 38, which is an enormous used clothing market outside of Chimoio (imagine a Goodwill Store the size of an oil tanker - the used clothing primarily comes from developed western nations i.e. U.S.A, Europe, Australia). Anyway, it is a fun place to go and if you look hard enough you can find some great stuff.
I left Chimoio early last week for a few days in Catandica, which is a small town at the foot of the Serashoa mountains on the Zimbabwe border (the spelling on that mountain range is almost certainly wrong). I went hiking with some other PCVs on the trails that lead up and over the mountains (and harbor mainly unofficial cross-border activity between Mozambique and Zimbabwe). We spoke Portuguese with Mozambicans, English with Zimbabweans and tried to toss in a word or two of Shona (which is the local dialect for much of Zimbabwe and this part of Mozambique). The mountains were gorgeous and I am pretty sure I saw 762 meter-high Matarazi Falls in the distance (the tallest waterfall in Zim).
Saturday, June 27, 2009
June 27
June 25 was Mozambican Independence Day and I joined in the festivities celebrating 34 years of Independence from Portuguese rule. In honor of Mozambican Independence Day this entry will consist of a brief, modern history of Mozambique, because (like all countries) the history of Mozambique has had a profound effect on what it is (and what I experience) today.
Portuguese sailors (motivated by trade potential in the Indian Ocean) landed in the Mozambican port of Sofala (near present-day Beira) in 1505 and controlled most of the East African coast by 1530. African Tribal Wars characterized the next 350 years in Mozambique along with Portuguese trade along the coast (including a booming slave trade during the 19th century). The Portuguese got serious about colonization in the 20th century and began to profit from Mozambique through 1) the proximity of the modern-day port of Maputo to South Africa’s gold mines and 2) the exportation of labor to S. Africa’s gold mines (this was a clever system of exploitation by the Portuguese in which indigenous Mozambicans were forced to work in South Africa and than pay a tax to the Portuguese Colonial Government). Portugal underwent a change in government in 1926 and elected to move away from forced migrant labor to forced labor within Mozambique. The result was high agricultural production and a valuable colony for the Portuguese. During this time Mozambique was also one of the top tourist destinations in Africa – with a seemingly endless amount of beach, and one of the best game reserves in the world in Gorongosa National Park.
In the wake of WWII Colonial Rule in Africa was coming to an end (often through violent struggles for independence). Mozambique was late to the party, but in 1963 the president of Tanzania (Julius Nyerere) convinced a few seperate Mozambican liberation groups to get it together and form a united movement for independence (this would become Frelimo (Front for the Liberation of Mozambique) – the party that continues to lead the Mozambican government today). Frelimo attempted to take Mozambique by force, but 35,000 Portuguese soldiers sent for the purpose of eliminating them hindered the plan. The Mozambicans decided to run, rather than fight, and luckily for them political problems (rather than Frelimo’s activities) in Portugal resulted in negotiations for independence between the Portuguese and the Mozambicans.
In 1975 Frelimo was given leadership of an independent Mozambique without an election, taking over a country of more than 10 million people, a literacy rate of 5% and just 100 doctors (those numbers today are 54% literacy and 600 doctors). With Frelimo in power, a vast majority of the Portuguese deserted the country, taking their skilled labor, money and management proficiency with them – and as a result destroying the economy.
In the first few years of independence Frelimo did some wonderful things socially, but failed miserably economically and ultimately started leaning towards socialism. The western world was not particularly happy with Mozambique’s Marxist policies, and neighboring South Africa and Zimbabwe (Rhodesia at the time) were not thrilled with Mozambique’s independence (both countries were white-dominated at the time). The result was a S. African/Zimbabwean supported destabilization movement in the form of a group called Renamo. Renamo’s only policy was that they were anti-Frelimo. The ensuing war between Frelimo and Renamo is commonly (though somewhat mistakenly thanks to the influence of S. Africa and Zimbabwe) referred to as a civil war; the war took the lives of hundreds of thousands of Mozambicans and lasted until 1992. Since 1992 Mozambique (still under the leadership of Frelimo) has been steadily improving in all possible ways.
Not surprisingly, tourism dropped to nearly nil during the years of war in Mozambique. Travel in the country was far from safe, and hungry soldiers managed to eat most of the wildlife that once made Gorongosa such a popular destination. Tourism in Mozambique is still recovering from the damages of war. Tourism infrastructure is difficult to find outside of a few popular destinations and Gorongosa National Park is currently known more for its lack of wildlife. The natural, undeveloped beauty however is still here.
Peace Corps English teachers arrived in Mozambique in 1998 and worked primarily in the southern part of the country. Since 1998 there have been thirteen classes of Peace Corps Volunteers (my class was lucky number thirteen) consisting in the more recent years of English teachers, health volunteers, biology teachers and chemistry teachers stationed in all ten provinces.
It seems like I have experiences everyday in which I am frustrated/bothered in some way by what I perceive as the backwards way that things are done here in Mozambique. What I oftentimes fail to take into account is that Mozambique as a country is just 34 years old. The reasons behind many of the things that frustrate me here may stem from the relative newness of Mozambique. If we think, for instance, about where the United States was after 34 years of independence it brings us to 1810, on the brink of the War of 1812 (yet another war with our original British colonizers). The history of The United States after 1810 included a bloody civil war, multiple assassinations of the president and policy gems such as slavery, prohibition, and McCarthyism. The point is, that Mozambique has not yet had the chance to learn from a long history (and the mistakes that come with history). Granted 233 years after the birth of the United States we still make plenty of new mistakes, but in general the country is run relatively smoothly. The policies, traditions and notions that make it a challenge for me to live and teach here are the result of this country’s turbulent history and relative newness.
To give an example of the point I am trying to make: Education policy handed down from the National Government dictates students in ninth grade take the following subjects: Portuguese, French, English, biology, chemistry, physics, geography, math, history, and physical education. They have each of these subjects every week at least twice per week. If you are asking (as you should be) if students can learn anything in any one subject when they are taking so many, the answer is no. From my perspective this policy seems to be nothing more than an attempt to catch-up educationally after thirty years of war. Although good in theory, the policy is not working.
Anyway, happy Independence Day (American and Mozambican), it will be a chilly one here in the western highlands of Mozambique. My second trimester ends in two weeks – at which point I hope to embark on some international travel in Southern Africa.
*The history part of this entry was adapted (in part) from Bradt, Mozambique. Phillip Briggs and Danny Edmunds
June 25 was Mozambican Independence Day and I joined in the festivities celebrating 34 years of Independence from Portuguese rule. In honor of Mozambican Independence Day this entry will consist of a brief, modern history of Mozambique, because (like all countries) the history of Mozambique has had a profound effect on what it is (and what I experience) today.
Portuguese sailors (motivated by trade potential in the Indian Ocean) landed in the Mozambican port of Sofala (near present-day Beira) in 1505 and controlled most of the East African coast by 1530. African Tribal Wars characterized the next 350 years in Mozambique along with Portuguese trade along the coast (including a booming slave trade during the 19th century). The Portuguese got serious about colonization in the 20th century and began to profit from Mozambique through 1) the proximity of the modern-day port of Maputo to South Africa’s gold mines and 2) the exportation of labor to S. Africa’s gold mines (this was a clever system of exploitation by the Portuguese in which indigenous Mozambicans were forced to work in South Africa and than pay a tax to the Portuguese Colonial Government). Portugal underwent a change in government in 1926 and elected to move away from forced migrant labor to forced labor within Mozambique. The result was high agricultural production and a valuable colony for the Portuguese. During this time Mozambique was also one of the top tourist destinations in Africa – with a seemingly endless amount of beach, and one of the best game reserves in the world in Gorongosa National Park.
In the wake of WWII Colonial Rule in Africa was coming to an end (often through violent struggles for independence). Mozambique was late to the party, but in 1963 the president of Tanzania (Julius Nyerere) convinced a few seperate Mozambican liberation groups to get it together and form a united movement for independence (this would become Frelimo (Front for the Liberation of Mozambique) – the party that continues to lead the Mozambican government today). Frelimo attempted to take Mozambique by force, but 35,000 Portuguese soldiers sent for the purpose of eliminating them hindered the plan. The Mozambicans decided to run, rather than fight, and luckily for them political problems (rather than Frelimo’s activities) in Portugal resulted in negotiations for independence between the Portuguese and the Mozambicans.
In 1975 Frelimo was given leadership of an independent Mozambique without an election, taking over a country of more than 10 million people, a literacy rate of 5% and just 100 doctors (those numbers today are 54% literacy and 600 doctors). With Frelimo in power, a vast majority of the Portuguese deserted the country, taking their skilled labor, money and management proficiency with them – and as a result destroying the economy.
In the first few years of independence Frelimo did some wonderful things socially, but failed miserably economically and ultimately started leaning towards socialism. The western world was not particularly happy with Mozambique’s Marxist policies, and neighboring South Africa and Zimbabwe (Rhodesia at the time) were not thrilled with Mozambique’s independence (both countries were white-dominated at the time). The result was a S. African/Zimbabwean supported destabilization movement in the form of a group called Renamo. Renamo’s only policy was that they were anti-Frelimo. The ensuing war between Frelimo and Renamo is commonly (though somewhat mistakenly thanks to the influence of S. Africa and Zimbabwe) referred to as a civil war; the war took the lives of hundreds of thousands of Mozambicans and lasted until 1992. Since 1992 Mozambique (still under the leadership of Frelimo) has been steadily improving in all possible ways.
Not surprisingly, tourism dropped to nearly nil during the years of war in Mozambique. Travel in the country was far from safe, and hungry soldiers managed to eat most of the wildlife that once made Gorongosa such a popular destination. Tourism in Mozambique is still recovering from the damages of war. Tourism infrastructure is difficult to find outside of a few popular destinations and Gorongosa National Park is currently known more for its lack of wildlife. The natural, undeveloped beauty however is still here.
Peace Corps English teachers arrived in Mozambique in 1998 and worked primarily in the southern part of the country. Since 1998 there have been thirteen classes of Peace Corps Volunteers (my class was lucky number thirteen) consisting in the more recent years of English teachers, health volunteers, biology teachers and chemistry teachers stationed in all ten provinces.
It seems like I have experiences everyday in which I am frustrated/bothered in some way by what I perceive as the backwards way that things are done here in Mozambique. What I oftentimes fail to take into account is that Mozambique as a country is just 34 years old. The reasons behind many of the things that frustrate me here may stem from the relative newness of Mozambique. If we think, for instance, about where the United States was after 34 years of independence it brings us to 1810, on the brink of the War of 1812 (yet another war with our original British colonizers). The history of The United States after 1810 included a bloody civil war, multiple assassinations of the president and policy gems such as slavery, prohibition, and McCarthyism. The point is, that Mozambique has not yet had the chance to learn from a long history (and the mistakes that come with history). Granted 233 years after the birth of the United States we still make plenty of new mistakes, but in general the country is run relatively smoothly. The policies, traditions and notions that make it a challenge for me to live and teach here are the result of this country’s turbulent history and relative newness.
To give an example of the point I am trying to make: Education policy handed down from the National Government dictates students in ninth grade take the following subjects: Portuguese, French, English, biology, chemistry, physics, geography, math, history, and physical education. They have each of these subjects every week at least twice per week. If you are asking (as you should be) if students can learn anything in any one subject when they are taking so many, the answer is no. From my perspective this policy seems to be nothing more than an attempt to catch-up educationally after thirty years of war. Although good in theory, the policy is not working.
Anyway, happy Independence Day (American and Mozambican), it will be a chilly one here in the western highlands of Mozambique. My second trimester ends in two weeks – at which point I hope to embark on some international travel in Southern Africa.
*The history part of this entry was adapted (in part) from Bradt, Mozambique. Phillip Briggs and Danny Edmunds
Monday, June 8, 2009
June 7
It has been a while since I posted anything, but I can explain why. I think that the things that I do here in Mozambique have stopped becoming eventful to me. I have grown used to my life here and nothing that I do seems so out of the ordinary that it can warrant a blog entry. For example, I think I wrote in one of my first entries about defecating in a hole – at this point I that is something that I would not think twice about.
All that being said I suppose I will continue to write things in order to satisfy my friends, my family and most importantly, my mother.
I have been chugging away at school trying in vain (for the most part) to get my students to understand something about chemistry. I decided to start telling them exactly what I am going to put on my tests, but most students still struggle mightily. There are some students that make an effort and actually learn something, and those are the ones that I focus on. I have no qualms about playing favorites – if I did I think I would loose my mind.
Some of my recent travel has included a trip to Manica City (which is in the mountains on the Zimbabwe boarder) to play a basketball game. Manica City is the currently the home of a large population of rich Zimbabweans who have gotten fed up with their own country. As a result it is a very nice little city. You can sit down at a nice restaurant and watch the fancy cars drive by, or walk through neighborhoods full of enormous houses. The income gap here in Africa is enormous – and I have not seen a more clear demonstration of that gap in Mozambique than in Manica City.
I returned on Sunday from a trip to Beira, which is the second biggest city in Mozambique and generally considered to be (by travelers and PCVs, but not by Mozambicans) a very unpleasant place to be. It is dirty, hot, and full of Malaria transmitting mosquitoes. However, I did have the pleasure of seeing a traffic light (we don’t have any in my province), and I got to go to the beach. My fellow PCVs and I took a trip north of Beira that included a 40 km along a terribly maintained dirt road and a short boat ride to a place called Rio Savane. It is a small campsite situated on a peninsula at the confluence of the Rio Savane (Savane River) and the Indian Ocean. There were miles and miles of beautiful beach and not another person to be seen – quite frankly it was one of the coolest places I have ever been. We played games on the beach during the day, and had bonfires on the beach at night- it was a fun weekend for all that were involved.
It has been a while since I posted anything, but I can explain why. I think that the things that I do here in Mozambique have stopped becoming eventful to me. I have grown used to my life here and nothing that I do seems so out of the ordinary that it can warrant a blog entry. For example, I think I wrote in one of my first entries about defecating in a hole – at this point I that is something that I would not think twice about.
All that being said I suppose I will continue to write things in order to satisfy my friends, my family and most importantly, my mother.
I have been chugging away at school trying in vain (for the most part) to get my students to understand something about chemistry. I decided to start telling them exactly what I am going to put on my tests, but most students still struggle mightily. There are some students that make an effort and actually learn something, and those are the ones that I focus on. I have no qualms about playing favorites – if I did I think I would loose my mind.
Some of my recent travel has included a trip to Manica City (which is in the mountains on the Zimbabwe boarder) to play a basketball game. Manica City is the currently the home of a large population of rich Zimbabweans who have gotten fed up with their own country. As a result it is a very nice little city. You can sit down at a nice restaurant and watch the fancy cars drive by, or walk through neighborhoods full of enormous houses. The income gap here in Africa is enormous – and I have not seen a more clear demonstration of that gap in Mozambique than in Manica City.
I returned on Sunday from a trip to Beira, which is the second biggest city in Mozambique and generally considered to be (by travelers and PCVs, but not by Mozambicans) a very unpleasant place to be. It is dirty, hot, and full of Malaria transmitting mosquitoes. However, I did have the pleasure of seeing a traffic light (we don’t have any in my province), and I got to go to the beach. My fellow PCVs and I took a trip north of Beira that included a 40 km along a terribly maintained dirt road and a short boat ride to a place called Rio Savane. It is a small campsite situated on a peninsula at the confluence of the Rio Savane (Savane River) and the Indian Ocean. There were miles and miles of beautiful beach and not another person to be seen – quite frankly it was one of the coolest places I have ever been. We played games on the beach during the day, and had bonfires on the beach at night- it was a fun weekend for all that were involved.
Monday, May 11, 2009
May 9
When I last left you I had just returned from the JOMA conference, I was not bathing and I had just been robbed. I am now almost four weeks into the second trimester of school, and still not bathing (as the weather continues to get colder).
The second trimester is turning out to be better than the first, mostly because my Portuguese has improved. I am also currently teaching about trends in the Periodic Table (which is about as exciting as it gets in ninth grade chemistry over here).
I got a chance to go to the beach last weekend, which was fun. The beach town of choice was Vilankulos, which is at the northern end of Inhambane Province (pronounced in – yam – bahn – ee) and hence, extremely far away. Long distance travel here is on par with my vision of hell, however, I did get to pass through the town of Mexungue (Mesh – oong – gway), which I think must be the cashew and pineapple capital of the universe (both were plentiful, cheap and delicious). Vilankulos itself is really a very sad little town; millions of dollars (for tourism) pass through the airport on the way to the offshore islands known as the Bazaruto Archipelago while the town continues to go on without development or basic infrastructure. Apparently all the money spent on tourism follows the South African and Zimbabwean Lodge owners back to their countries. The beach was nice, though, and I went swimming, ate seafood (I don’t really even like seafood), and saw lots of people whom I had not seen in a long time.
My roommate and I have started playing a new game with our neighbors (most of whom are children) called mata-mata which literally means kill-kill. The game is a complicated version of pickle/dodge ball that involves turning over flip-flops. The bottom line, though, is that I get to peg little kids with a ball made out of a plastic bag and grass. If you are having trouble visualizing this I would suggest a viewing of Adam Sandler during the dodge ball scene in Billy Madison. If you are still having trouble, just picture a 6’10” guy throwing a ball at small African children.
When I last left you I had just returned from the JOMA conference, I was not bathing and I had just been robbed. I am now almost four weeks into the second trimester of school, and still not bathing (as the weather continues to get colder).
The second trimester is turning out to be better than the first, mostly because my Portuguese has improved. I am also currently teaching about trends in the Periodic Table (which is about as exciting as it gets in ninth grade chemistry over here).
I got a chance to go to the beach last weekend, which was fun. The beach town of choice was Vilankulos, which is at the northern end of Inhambane Province (pronounced in – yam – bahn – ee) and hence, extremely far away. Long distance travel here is on par with my vision of hell, however, I did get to pass through the town of Mexungue (Mesh – oong – gway), which I think must be the cashew and pineapple capital of the universe (both were plentiful, cheap and delicious). Vilankulos itself is really a very sad little town; millions of dollars (for tourism) pass through the airport on the way to the offshore islands known as the Bazaruto Archipelago while the town continues to go on without development or basic infrastructure. Apparently all the money spent on tourism follows the South African and Zimbabwean Lodge owners back to their countries. The beach was nice, though, and I went swimming, ate seafood (I don’t really even like seafood), and saw lots of people whom I had not seen in a long time.
My roommate and I have started playing a new game with our neighbors (most of whom are children) called mata-mata which literally means kill-kill. The game is a complicated version of pickle/dodge ball that involves turning over flip-flops. The bottom line, though, is that I get to peg little kids with a ball made out of a plastic bag and grass. If you are having trouble visualizing this I would suggest a viewing of Adam Sandler during the dodge ball scene in Billy Madison. If you are still having trouble, just picture a 6’10” guy throwing a ball at small African children.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
April 23
I returned from the annual JOMA conference last Monday. JOMA stands for Jovens para mudança e açcão (which means young people for change and action). It was created by some PCV a few years ago and today almost every PCV site in Mozambique has a JOMA group (that is, a group of students who meet every week and do activities – such as painting murals, theatre, and journalism – that are vaguely related to the fight against HIV and therefore funded by PEPFAR and U.S Government). I know I said that in a somewhat cynical way, but in all honesty projects like JOMA are probably a more effective use of PEPFAR money than anything else the U.S Government is doing in the fight against HIV/AIDS. Anyway, the JOMA conference was fun. It was completely organized by PCVs – which made it slightly stressful (though I was not in charge so not for me). During the day students learned about a specific profession (artist, journalist, actor etc.) from a Mozambican professional and at night we ran summer camp – like activities that the kids loved (problem solving activities like egg drop and feats of strength like tug of war). It was probably one of the best weeks of their life for the 50 or so Mozambican students who attended.
I returned home to lovely Gondola to find that my house had been broken into. The thief stole primarily DVDs, though he also took a packet of gum (he took winterfresh gum but left Juicy Fruit and Big Red…a wise choice in my opinion), five pens, a light bulb, and three condoms (that is my contribution to the fight against HIV/AIDS). However, we found out from our neighbors who the thief is and we know where he lives – unfortunately he already sold our DVDs. Perhaps we will ask a local witch doctor to curse him (that is popular method of crime control around here).
April 25
I think I mentioned before that it is getting colder, a lot colder. The drop in temperature has had some unexpected consequences – most unexpected has been a reduction in bathing by me. Generally, during warmer months I took nothing but cold baths – because I did not want to go through the process of boiling water (boiling enough water for a hot bath is a process that takes 20-30 minutes, so it needs to be planned out). In this weather the prospect of taking a cold bath just does not appeal to me anymore. As it turns out the prospect of planning when I want to take a hot bath doesn’t appeal to me either – the result is less bathing, oh well. To head off worry from the many nurses to whom I am related: I still bathe often enough to ward of infection etc.
I returned from the annual JOMA conference last Monday. JOMA stands for Jovens para mudança e açcão (which means young people for change and action). It was created by some PCV a few years ago and today almost every PCV site in Mozambique has a JOMA group (that is, a group of students who meet every week and do activities – such as painting murals, theatre, and journalism – that are vaguely related to the fight against HIV and therefore funded by PEPFAR and U.S Government). I know I said that in a somewhat cynical way, but in all honesty projects like JOMA are probably a more effective use of PEPFAR money than anything else the U.S Government is doing in the fight against HIV/AIDS. Anyway, the JOMA conference was fun. It was completely organized by PCVs – which made it slightly stressful (though I was not in charge so not for me). During the day students learned about a specific profession (artist, journalist, actor etc.) from a Mozambican professional and at night we ran summer camp – like activities that the kids loved (problem solving activities like egg drop and feats of strength like tug of war). It was probably one of the best weeks of their life for the 50 or so Mozambican students who attended.
I returned home to lovely Gondola to find that my house had been broken into. The thief stole primarily DVDs, though he also took a packet of gum (he took winterfresh gum but left Juicy Fruit and Big Red…a wise choice in my opinion), five pens, a light bulb, and three condoms (that is my contribution to the fight against HIV/AIDS). However, we found out from our neighbors who the thief is and we know where he lives – unfortunately he already sold our DVDs. Perhaps we will ask a local witch doctor to curse him (that is popular method of crime control around here).
April 25
I think I mentioned before that it is getting colder, a lot colder. The drop in temperature has had some unexpected consequences – most unexpected has been a reduction in bathing by me. Generally, during warmer months I took nothing but cold baths – because I did not want to go through the process of boiling water (boiling enough water for a hot bath is a process that takes 20-30 minutes, so it needs to be planned out). In this weather the prospect of taking a cold bath just does not appeal to me anymore. As it turns out the prospect of planning when I want to take a hot bath doesn’t appeal to me either – the result is less bathing, oh well. To head off worry from the many nurses to whom I am related: I still bathe often enough to ward of infection etc.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
April 12
The weather is changing here in Gondola, and since I am in the southern hemisphere it is getting colder (I apologize for the geography lesson). I always use a blanket at night these days – and on several occasions I have felt the need to wear a sweatshirt.
I am currently at the halfway point of the two-week school holiday that falls between the first and second trimesters. The trimester ended with the archaic system of writing down everyone’s grades in at least three different places (first in pencil than over the pencil in pen) this is necessary because the computer (or really any type of machine that is conducive to efficiency) has failed to reach central Mozambique in force. You can imagine how long this system takes with 400 students. The end of the trimester is also the time when you get students trying to bribe you with a Fanta to give them a passing grade, or colleagues (almost always male) asking you to change the grade of a student (almost always female) for whatever reason (almost always because they are sleeping together). All those aside, there were some positives that came out of the first trimester. For instance, there are some students who really understand, care about, and are willing to study what I am teaching. These students earned good grades and it is these students whom I focus on when I think about what I am doing here and whether I am actually making any impact.
Prior to the end of the trimester I took some days off from teaching and attended my Peace Corps Regional Conference (for the central region of Mozambique). I got to stay in a hotel, take hot showers and eat meat at least twice a day – it was glorious. I received training in education and project development as well as a refresher course on Peace Corps Policy. It was also an opportunity to socialize with my fellow PCVs . We had an 80s party (it is really easy to have 80s parties here because almost all the clothes in the markets are donations from developed countries – mostly the US). When I walk around town I might see an 80-year-old grandmother wearing a shirt touting the 4-H fair in Crawfordsville, Indiana or 25-year-old guy wearing a girl’s soccer uniform from Towson, Maryland. The bottom line is that it is easy to find 80s gear in the market so we had some excellent costumes.
I mentioned before that I had just completed my first week of holiday. My roommate and I decided to spend our week on a trip to Tete. Tete is the province directly north of Manica (my province) in Mozambique and widely considered to be one of the hottest and least attractive tourist destinations in all of Southern Africa. Tete City itself is considered by some to be the hottest city in the world (in terms of year-round mean temperature). We knew all of this prior to planning our trip – and we still wanted to go. It turned out to be an interesting trip – Tete City (though very hot) is currently awash in money, (apparently the province is floating on coal and Brazilian and Australian mining companies have recently leased large plots of land). It was unlike any other city I have seen in Mozambique – in terms of modern buildings and amenities. We also visited Lago (Lake) Cahora Bassa where we hung out with Nick the Afrikaner fishing lodge manager and Gary the Zimbabwean Crocodile Hunter (this guy actually hunts crocodiles). While on the lake, we were surrounded by hippos and crocodiles and a variety of exotic African birds. It turns out hippos are the most dangerous animals in Africa and since I am not a fisherman – the hippos made fishing exciting for me.
The weather is changing here in Gondola, and since I am in the southern hemisphere it is getting colder (I apologize for the geography lesson). I always use a blanket at night these days – and on several occasions I have felt the need to wear a sweatshirt.
I am currently at the halfway point of the two-week school holiday that falls between the first and second trimesters. The trimester ended with the archaic system of writing down everyone’s grades in at least three different places (first in pencil than over the pencil in pen) this is necessary because the computer (or really any type of machine that is conducive to efficiency) has failed to reach central Mozambique in force. You can imagine how long this system takes with 400 students. The end of the trimester is also the time when you get students trying to bribe you with a Fanta to give them a passing grade, or colleagues (almost always male) asking you to change the grade of a student (almost always female) for whatever reason (almost always because they are sleeping together). All those aside, there were some positives that came out of the first trimester. For instance, there are some students who really understand, care about, and are willing to study what I am teaching. These students earned good grades and it is these students whom I focus on when I think about what I am doing here and whether I am actually making any impact.
Prior to the end of the trimester I took some days off from teaching and attended my Peace Corps Regional Conference (for the central region of Mozambique). I got to stay in a hotel, take hot showers and eat meat at least twice a day – it was glorious. I received training in education and project development as well as a refresher course on Peace Corps Policy. It was also an opportunity to socialize with my fellow PCVs . We had an 80s party (it is really easy to have 80s parties here because almost all the clothes in the markets are donations from developed countries – mostly the US). When I walk around town I might see an 80-year-old grandmother wearing a shirt touting the 4-H fair in Crawfordsville, Indiana or 25-year-old guy wearing a girl’s soccer uniform from Towson, Maryland. The bottom line is that it is easy to find 80s gear in the market so we had some excellent costumes.
I mentioned before that I had just completed my first week of holiday. My roommate and I decided to spend our week on a trip to Tete. Tete is the province directly north of Manica (my province) in Mozambique and widely considered to be one of the hottest and least attractive tourist destinations in all of Southern Africa. Tete City itself is considered by some to be the hottest city in the world (in terms of year-round mean temperature). We knew all of this prior to planning our trip – and we still wanted to go. It turned out to be an interesting trip – Tete City (though very hot) is currently awash in money, (apparently the province is floating on coal and Brazilian and Australian mining companies have recently leased large plots of land). It was unlike any other city I have seen in Mozambique – in terms of modern buildings and amenities. We also visited Lago (Lake) Cahora Bassa where we hung out with Nick the Afrikaner fishing lodge manager and Gary the Zimbabwean Crocodile Hunter (this guy actually hunts crocodiles). While on the lake, we were surrounded by hippos and crocodiles and a variety of exotic African birds. It turns out hippos are the most dangerous animals in Africa and since I am not a fisherman – the hippos made fishing exciting for me.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
March 14
I gave my first test a few weeks ago. I would estimate that 80% of the students cheated in some way or another. It is impossible to stop students from copying when they sit three to a desk – there were also a bunch of other methods of cheating (some of which I caught, but most of which I probably still do not know about). They still did not score very well – maybe they will figure out that they (or their desk-mate) need to study next time.
I handed the test back yesterday (after spending weeks trying to decipher their names – which are unpronounceable Portuguese names and written in cursive – I have never liked cursive) and they were still trying to cheat (crossing out answers that I had already marked wrong and claiming that I mis-graded). I had a suggestion from one of my college roommates (who is notoriously tough against cheaters): fill one cup with sulfuric acid and one cup with sugar water, label them with their chemical formulas and ask the students to choose which one of the cups they would like to drink (if they are still alive after the test – they pass).
Two months ago I bought a hoe, went out into the yard, cleared some land, and dropped some seeds into the ground. A few weeks later I realized that my attempt at a garden had failed miserably. I reflected back on my life and realized that although I grew up in the Midwest and watched my mom harvest hundreds of pounds of vegetables every year I had never seriously partaken in the gardening. Luckily, my mother sent me a pair of gardening gloves, more seeds, and some advice. I am attempting (once again) to cultivate some food (mostly herbs). I currently have some green popping out of the soil and I am hoping to have some fresh Basil in a few months.
I visited the Chicamba Real Dam a while ago – a Portuguese colonial relic that supplies much of Manica Province (my province) with electricity. It is a huge dam in the middle of absolutely nowhere (it took me forever to get there). You tend to see this all over Mozambique: huge colonial-era infrastructure projects or mansions that are now in disrepair (or nearing it) while in the villages there is no infrastructure whatsoever (I guess it speaks to the negative side of colonialism). There was also a large lake that apparently has great Bass fishing (the Zimbabwean guys who do the bass fishing think it should be on the ESPN Sunday morning fishing show at some point). The only thing I remember about the ESPN fishing show is that I was always disappointed when I got up early on Sunday morning and I had to sit through fishing before sportscenter came on.
March 18
I told my students about Saint Patrick’s Day yesterday, but I did not have to pinch anyone because their uniforms are green already.
I gave my first test a few weeks ago. I would estimate that 80% of the students cheated in some way or another. It is impossible to stop students from copying when they sit three to a desk – there were also a bunch of other methods of cheating (some of which I caught, but most of which I probably still do not know about). They still did not score very well – maybe they will figure out that they (or their desk-mate) need to study next time.
I handed the test back yesterday (after spending weeks trying to decipher their names – which are unpronounceable Portuguese names and written in cursive – I have never liked cursive) and they were still trying to cheat (crossing out answers that I had already marked wrong and claiming that I mis-graded). I had a suggestion from one of my college roommates (who is notoriously tough against cheaters): fill one cup with sulfuric acid and one cup with sugar water, label them with their chemical formulas and ask the students to choose which one of the cups they would like to drink (if they are still alive after the test – they pass).
Two months ago I bought a hoe, went out into the yard, cleared some land, and dropped some seeds into the ground. A few weeks later I realized that my attempt at a garden had failed miserably. I reflected back on my life and realized that although I grew up in the Midwest and watched my mom harvest hundreds of pounds of vegetables every year I had never seriously partaken in the gardening. Luckily, my mother sent me a pair of gardening gloves, more seeds, and some advice. I am attempting (once again) to cultivate some food (mostly herbs). I currently have some green popping out of the soil and I am hoping to have some fresh Basil in a few months.
I visited the Chicamba Real Dam a while ago – a Portuguese colonial relic that supplies much of Manica Province (my province) with electricity. It is a huge dam in the middle of absolutely nowhere (it took me forever to get there). You tend to see this all over Mozambique: huge colonial-era infrastructure projects or mansions that are now in disrepair (or nearing it) while in the villages there is no infrastructure whatsoever (I guess it speaks to the negative side of colonialism). There was also a large lake that apparently has great Bass fishing (the Zimbabwean guys who do the bass fishing think it should be on the ESPN Sunday morning fishing show at some point). The only thing I remember about the ESPN fishing show is that I was always disappointed when I got up early on Sunday morning and I had to sit through fishing before sportscenter came on.
March 18
I told my students about Saint Patrick’s Day yesterday, but I did not have to pinch anyone because their uniforms are green already.
Monday, March 2, 2009
March 1
Normally around this time I would be eagerly anticipating the end of the college basketball season (for reasons ranging from the excitement of the conference and national tournaments to the end of practicing everyday). Here in Mozambique, however, there is not much in the way of college basketball exposure – people who can afford televisions generally prefer to watch Brazilian soap operas.
I recently told my mom that I was considering scraping this blog – as I view my life at this point to be extremely unexciting, but she assured me that people were actually reading it. She also (albeit unsolicited) gave me topics to write about such as “thoughts about water conservation in the US and Moz”. I am not sure where that came from, but perhaps I will address it later (I can tell you that it is a lot easier to conserve water when it does not come out of a tap). Maybe the truth is that reading blogs is just more uplifting that watching the ticker on MSNBC these days.
My teaching career here in Mozambique is progressing smoothly. I actually have about 430 students (but only a fraction of them show up to any given class). Sometimes (lots of times) I pronounce a Portuguese word incorrectly and at other times I use a masculine article for a feminine word or vice-versa. At these instances, my students giggle at me. Generally though, they seem to understand my lectures – though that does not mean they will study. Whenever I tell another English speaker/white person that I teach high school chemistry in Portuguese they are always extremely impressed, which I am fine with (I like being impressive). I do realize, however, that if they actually visited one of my classes they would be much less impressed (naturally I do not invite them to my classes).
I am giving my first test this week, and I am expecting some bad results. I am supposed to follow a strict national curriculum. The progression of the curriculum, however, is not particularly logical and most of my students act as though they have never taken chemistry before (which they all have) so it is difficult to follow the curriculum. As the teacher, I am the only person who has a textbook (or really any books) therefore I am the textbook for my students. So it is very important that I give them notes that they can go back and study that will make sense. This is difficult for a few reasons. First, my students do not have any note taking skills – they can only copy stuff that I write on the board. Second, most of the students do not try to understand stuff during class – they just want to get the notes and get out of there (this is like what I did during organic chem. in college). They might study the notes before the test, but they do not have a textbook to read if they do not understand something (like I had in college). This is a problem. They are used to is teachers giving definitions, memorizing the definitions and than regurgitating the definitions for the test. I am the first Peace Corps science teacher in my village and regurgitation is not going to work on my tests. I predict there will be a lot of students failing and a lot of students cheating – both are bad.
On another note, the school uniform for the Escola Secundaria Geral de MaCombe - my school – is pine tree green pants/skirts for the ladies, mint chocolate chip ice cream green shirt, and a pine tree green tie.
We put up a tire swing on one of the mango trees in our backyard as a present to the children who feel that they need to keep us company every hour of the day. Although I think they like it, the tire swing compares favorably to the coke bottle in “The Gods Must be Crazy”. It causes all kinds of problems, but it does keep them off of our back stoop.
Normally around this time I would be eagerly anticipating the end of the college basketball season (for reasons ranging from the excitement of the conference and national tournaments to the end of practicing everyday). Here in Mozambique, however, there is not much in the way of college basketball exposure – people who can afford televisions generally prefer to watch Brazilian soap operas.
I recently told my mom that I was considering scraping this blog – as I view my life at this point to be extremely unexciting, but she assured me that people were actually reading it. She also (albeit unsolicited) gave me topics to write about such as “thoughts about water conservation in the US and Moz”. I am not sure where that came from, but perhaps I will address it later (I can tell you that it is a lot easier to conserve water when it does not come out of a tap). Maybe the truth is that reading blogs is just more uplifting that watching the ticker on MSNBC these days.
My teaching career here in Mozambique is progressing smoothly. I actually have about 430 students (but only a fraction of them show up to any given class). Sometimes (lots of times) I pronounce a Portuguese word incorrectly and at other times I use a masculine article for a feminine word or vice-versa. At these instances, my students giggle at me. Generally though, they seem to understand my lectures – though that does not mean they will study. Whenever I tell another English speaker/white person that I teach high school chemistry in Portuguese they are always extremely impressed, which I am fine with (I like being impressive). I do realize, however, that if they actually visited one of my classes they would be much less impressed (naturally I do not invite them to my classes).
I am giving my first test this week, and I am expecting some bad results. I am supposed to follow a strict national curriculum. The progression of the curriculum, however, is not particularly logical and most of my students act as though they have never taken chemistry before (which they all have) so it is difficult to follow the curriculum. As the teacher, I am the only person who has a textbook (or really any books) therefore I am the textbook for my students. So it is very important that I give them notes that they can go back and study that will make sense. This is difficult for a few reasons. First, my students do not have any note taking skills – they can only copy stuff that I write on the board. Second, most of the students do not try to understand stuff during class – they just want to get the notes and get out of there (this is like what I did during organic chem. in college). They might study the notes before the test, but they do not have a textbook to read if they do not understand something (like I had in college). This is a problem. They are used to is teachers giving definitions, memorizing the definitions and than regurgitating the definitions for the test. I am the first Peace Corps science teacher in my village and regurgitation is not going to work on my tests. I predict there will be a lot of students failing and a lot of students cheating – both are bad.
On another note, the school uniform for the Escola Secundaria Geral de MaCombe - my school – is pine tree green pants/skirts for the ladies, mint chocolate chip ice cream green shirt, and a pine tree green tie.
We put up a tire swing on one of the mango trees in our backyard as a present to the children who feel that they need to keep us company every hour of the day. Although I think they like it, the tire swing compares favorably to the coke bottle in “The Gods Must be Crazy”. It causes all kinds of problems, but it does keep them off of our back stoop.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
January 18
I was playing in the yard with some of the seemingly infinite number of children that live behind my house and casually trying to teach them English. In many ways this is a lost cause because quite a few children do not speak Portuguese (the national language), instead they speak one of the many local languages spoken in Mozambique (really throughout Africa - Mozambique has more than 60). In my case, people here in Gondola speak one of three local languages (the names of which I cannot spell or even pronounce for that matter – though I do know a few simple phrases). Anyway, back to the point, the kids were saying words in Portuguese and I was translating them into English. They got to mae and pae which I translated to mom and dad. They were confused with the word “dad” so I began to explain it and one boy asked me “ Você tem pae?” which means, “do you have a father?” I thought it was a silly question and I quickly answered yes, but than I thought about it a bit…
I live in an area of Mozambique that is on a major highway (resulting in sex between Mozambicans and residents of neighboring countries that are passing through), near Zimbabwae (which has a comparatively high prevalence of HIV), and near a large city (resulting in lots of transactional sex). Although I don’t have the numbers I would estimate the HIV infection rate here in Gondola to hover around the 25% range for the 15-49 age demographic (this is a guess, not a real statistic). Additionally the extremely high rates of HIV here in sub-saharan Africa are generally attributed to a culture of concurrent relationships (that is multiple sexual relationships going on simultaneously rather than the western method (generally speaking) of one monogamous sexual relationship after another). Hence, HIV infection rates are extremely high not because Africans are having more sex, but because they are involved in these concurrent relationships (that may last years or even decades). If you are confused, think about in terms of everyone’s favorite high school illness: mononucleosis (which we generally associate with kissing – though it is spread in other ways). If Betty has mono and she makes out with one dude (and that dude is with Betty exclusively and Betty is with him exclusively) only one dude is going to have mono. However if Betty is in concurrent relationships with two other guys – at least three people are going to have mono (and if one of the other guys is also in a concurrent relationship even more people will have mono - the numbers have potential to multiply quickly).
Back to the original question “do you have a father”, which I now realize is not silly at all. There are many reasons here (whether it is an AIDS death or the child was the result of a concurrent relationship gone dry) that a child would not have a father. I originally dismissed the question, but I now realize it is not only not silly, but extremely relevant here in Southern Africa.
February 11
Well, school finally started. It was supposed to start on February 2, but it took about a week for the school to get everything organized and for students and teachers to start showing up. I have six turmas (classes) each with anywhere from 40-70 students. Here in Mozambique the turma stays in one room and the teachers come to them, that being said most of my classrooms are decent. However I have two classes in the basement of a nearby Catholic Church that feels like it was built in the 1600s. So I feel like I am teaching in the middle ages (and my chalkboards in those classes are about three feet by three feet). The students don’t really want to learn chemistry (but who really does?) however, I think they are at least excited that they have a white (and tall) teacher.
Our (that is my roommate and myself) neighbors took us on the 10k walk (their family members walk it everyday) to their machamba (farm) one day. It was interesting; they grow corn (to be made into corn flour – which is a staple here), peanuts, and sugar cane with seemingly no organization at all. They also have a random assortment of fruit trees (guava, banana, mango, avocado, and more). For the most part, people in Gondola rely on subsistence farming to support themselves (and they sell whatever extra food they have) so it was good that we saw the farm – which is basically their life.
I have gone into Chimoio (the big city that is nearby) quite a few times for get-togethers with other pcvs. The central region of Mozambique (which is where I live) is the worst geographically (because we don’t really have a beach) but it is nice because people are close enough to each other to see each other on occasional weekends. It is also nice to be near Shoprite (the South African grocery store chain). I recently figured out that Shoprite does not have sales (because there really is no competition) but that they mark down food (mostly dairy products) significantly if it is near the expiration date. So my roommate and myself go to shoprite and buy almost expired butter and cheese (we can not afford the good stuff we can not get any dairy products in Gondola – although they do have un-refrigerated margarine – which is a novelty to me) and than we have to race to finish it before the expiration date (it is really a lot of fun).
I was playing in the yard with some of the seemingly infinite number of children that live behind my house and casually trying to teach them English. In many ways this is a lost cause because quite a few children do not speak Portuguese (the national language), instead they speak one of the many local languages spoken in Mozambique (really throughout Africa - Mozambique has more than 60). In my case, people here in Gondola speak one of three local languages (the names of which I cannot spell or even pronounce for that matter – though I do know a few simple phrases). Anyway, back to the point, the kids were saying words in Portuguese and I was translating them into English. They got to mae and pae which I translated to mom and dad. They were confused with the word “dad” so I began to explain it and one boy asked me “ Você tem pae?” which means, “do you have a father?” I thought it was a silly question and I quickly answered yes, but than I thought about it a bit…
I live in an area of Mozambique that is on a major highway (resulting in sex between Mozambicans and residents of neighboring countries that are passing through), near Zimbabwae (which has a comparatively high prevalence of HIV), and near a large city (resulting in lots of transactional sex). Although I don’t have the numbers I would estimate the HIV infection rate here in Gondola to hover around the 25% range for the 15-49 age demographic (this is a guess, not a real statistic). Additionally the extremely high rates of HIV here in sub-saharan Africa are generally attributed to a culture of concurrent relationships (that is multiple sexual relationships going on simultaneously rather than the western method (generally speaking) of one monogamous sexual relationship after another). Hence, HIV infection rates are extremely high not because Africans are having more sex, but because they are involved in these concurrent relationships (that may last years or even decades). If you are confused, think about in terms of everyone’s favorite high school illness: mononucleosis (which we generally associate with kissing – though it is spread in other ways). If Betty has mono and she makes out with one dude (and that dude is with Betty exclusively and Betty is with him exclusively) only one dude is going to have mono. However if Betty is in concurrent relationships with two other guys – at least three people are going to have mono (and if one of the other guys is also in a concurrent relationship even more people will have mono - the numbers have potential to multiply quickly).
Back to the original question “do you have a father”, which I now realize is not silly at all. There are many reasons here (whether it is an AIDS death or the child was the result of a concurrent relationship gone dry) that a child would not have a father. I originally dismissed the question, but I now realize it is not only not silly, but extremely relevant here in Southern Africa.
February 11
Well, school finally started. It was supposed to start on February 2, but it took about a week for the school to get everything organized and for students and teachers to start showing up. I have six turmas (classes) each with anywhere from 40-70 students. Here in Mozambique the turma stays in one room and the teachers come to them, that being said most of my classrooms are decent. However I have two classes in the basement of a nearby Catholic Church that feels like it was built in the 1600s. So I feel like I am teaching in the middle ages (and my chalkboards in those classes are about three feet by three feet). The students don’t really want to learn chemistry (but who really does?) however, I think they are at least excited that they have a white (and tall) teacher.
Our (that is my roommate and myself) neighbors took us on the 10k walk (their family members walk it everyday) to their machamba (farm) one day. It was interesting; they grow corn (to be made into corn flour – which is a staple here), peanuts, and sugar cane with seemingly no organization at all. They also have a random assortment of fruit trees (guava, banana, mango, avocado, and more). For the most part, people in Gondola rely on subsistence farming to support themselves (and they sell whatever extra food they have) so it was good that we saw the farm – which is basically their life.
I have gone into Chimoio (the big city that is nearby) quite a few times for get-togethers with other pcvs. The central region of Mozambique (which is where I live) is the worst geographically (because we don’t really have a beach) but it is nice because people are close enough to each other to see each other on occasional weekends. It is also nice to be near Shoprite (the South African grocery store chain). I recently figured out that Shoprite does not have sales (because there really is no competition) but that they mark down food (mostly dairy products) significantly if it is near the expiration date. So my roommate and myself go to shoprite and buy almost expired butter and cheese (we can not afford the good stuff we can not get any dairy products in Gondola – although they do have un-refrigerated margarine – which is a novelty to me) and than we have to race to finish it before the expiration date (it is really a lot of fun).
Thursday, January 15, 2009
December 18
Typing the date makes me realize it is a week until Christmas, but it sure does not feel like that here. The last time I updated this thing I was on my way to site – living the high life and taking showers in Maputo (living the high life in Mozambique = taking showers). The next day I got up early with the four other volunteers headed to Manica province and went to the airport. It turns out we were delayed for five hours because the King of Tanzania was arriving and the airport was closed – that was exciting, I did not even know Tanzania had a king (my research tells Tanzania is one of three monarchies remaining in Africa). Anyway, to get to the point we arrived in Chimoio (capital of Manica Province) Monday afternoon on a small 15-seat plane that bounced around like crazy. Chimoio is the fifth largest city in Mozambique and it is set about 200 km from the ocean and right at the edge of the Mountains that hug the Zimbabwe-Mozambique boarder. A Peace Corps employee met us at the airport and we headed to our site (Gondola), which is 16 km east (toward the ocean) of Chimoio.
Gondola is a town built around a road (the EN6) and a railroad that connect Zimbabwe and Zambia to the Mozambican port of Beira – it is (or at least was before Zimbabwe became a political and economic disaster) probably one of the busiest shipping routes in sub-Saharan Africa. It is evident that there was once a strong Portuguese presence here (my house, for instance was built by the Portuguese railroad company during the height of colonial times) there is also a bizarrely opulent sports club (now in ruins of course) with soccer and basketball stadium along with an Olympic sized pool. Somehow, a population of fish survives in the rainwater that collects in the deep end of the pool (I know because I talked to some kids fishing in the pool). I cannot figure out if it is an evolutionary miracle (that the population of fish evolved in the pool since the 1970s when the Portuguese left) or someone put someone fish in the pool (I will hazard to guess the later is the truth).
The good news (regarding my site), though, is that I am relatively close to “Shoprite” the South African Grocery store chain of which there are just four in Mozambique. If it is food and you can get it in Moz, shoprite has it. This means I am going to be able to eat things like cheese occasionally (I will also be able to eat meat – because I just met a guy who kills a goat everyday and brings it to the market five minutes from my house). So I am excited about my dining possibilities here in Gondola.
Back to my house… first of all it is huge. We (my roommate David and myself) have six large rooms with thirteen or fourteen foot ceilings, but there is absolutely nothing in it and there have not been any repairs or maintenance for at least 33 years since the Portuguese left. When I say nothing I mean nothing – no counters, no shelves, no sink, no running water, (we do have a few lights, but our electricity is terrible), definitely no kitchen, in many cases no window panes. The only things we do have are cockroaches and termites. We are trying to take care of the cockroaches with the nastiest looking chemical at shoprite and cleaning our floors with it (now our house smells like a gasoline spill), the termites are another story. So anyway, I have lots to do, but I also have lots of time (school doesn’t start until February and PC will not let me leave Manica Province until March).
December 27
Christmas came and went even in Mozambique. I went to Chimio and stayed at the apartment of two female health volunteers (there are health volunteers and education volunteers in Moz – I am an education volunteer) along with my roommate and three other girls. It is a pretty swanky apartment – it has running water, consistent electricity, and furniture. We had a nice Christmas, we spent a lot of time cooking American-style food and it all turned out really well. We ate until we felt sick and than we ate some more, than it was time for the secret santa gift exchange (the theme was housewarming gifts and the price limit was 200 meticais – about eight dollars). I received an estiera (a read mat) and a pilao (a wooden mortar and pestle-type device). Christmas was nice, but obviously it is a time when I miss my friends and family in the states.
After a straight week of rain my house in Gondola has developed a termite problem of biblical proportions. They are coming out of holes in the floor and actually building mounds inside the house. They also spawn these large flies with wings that are meant to spread the colony (at least this is what my roommate tells me – and he has watched his share of animal planet). Anyway, the flies come out at night and there are so many of them banging against things in our house that we actually mistook them for rain one night. The situation is even more bizarre because Mozambicans sweep up the flies in our house and eat them (I was offered, but declined). We are trying to remedy the situation as I type by pouring motor oil down the termite holes – to be followed by covering the holes with cement. Not too much else to report, I have been doing a whole lot of nothing recently (which is nice).
Oh yeah, I have a new address:
Polk Duffy - Peter Minchella
P.O Box 234
Chimio, Manica,
Mozambique
Africa
January 14, 2009
Hello friends, I realize it has been a while since I posted anything online, but I ask you (my readership) to bear with me as I try to find a consistent (and affordable internet connection). The other option (if you really like me/ want to correspond) is that you can email me at peter.minchella@gmail.com.
I really do not have much to report, my roommate and myself continue to try to integrate ourselves into the community and settle into our home. We have started playing basketball fairly often (the competition is less than stellar, but that makes me feel better about telling people that I should have recieved more playing time in college). I spend a lot of time cooking, reading, exercising, telling people I will not give them money, being stared at, and playing with the seemingly infinite numbers of children who show up in my yard.
You would be surprised what you can do (cooking-wise) with a stove in Mozambique.
Mangoes are also a big part of my life right now as we are in the midst of mango season. There are three or four large mango trees in my yard, but I generally let kids steal those and buy better ones at the market. Mangoes are unbelievably cheap (at the height of the season – which, sadly, at this point has passed) I was buying five high-quality mangoes for 1 metical (which is equivalent to about 4 cents). The result is that I eat a lot of mangoes (and put them in everything – I am sure that my Italian grandfather would be horrified to know that I made a delicious mango-tomato sauce and ate it with spaghetti). I am anxiously looking forward to avocado season (I also have a large avocado tree in my yard) and whatever else this semi-tropical climate brings me.
My roommate has a guitar, so I am starting to learn a little bit of guitar (everyone knows that chicks love guys who play guitar) so far it is not going well. The start of school looms closer everyday when my inadequate Portuguese (I talk to my roommate in English way to much) will manifest itself into a high school chemistry class.
I recently learned the stunning news that the Arizona Cardinals are in the NFC Championship (this is the kind of thing that makes me feel like I have been out of the country a lot longer than 4 months).
Typing the date makes me realize it is a week until Christmas, but it sure does not feel like that here. The last time I updated this thing I was on my way to site – living the high life and taking showers in Maputo (living the high life in Mozambique = taking showers). The next day I got up early with the four other volunteers headed to Manica province and went to the airport. It turns out we were delayed for five hours because the King of Tanzania was arriving and the airport was closed – that was exciting, I did not even know Tanzania had a king (my research tells Tanzania is one of three monarchies remaining in Africa). Anyway, to get to the point we arrived in Chimoio (capital of Manica Province) Monday afternoon on a small 15-seat plane that bounced around like crazy. Chimoio is the fifth largest city in Mozambique and it is set about 200 km from the ocean and right at the edge of the Mountains that hug the Zimbabwe-Mozambique boarder. A Peace Corps employee met us at the airport and we headed to our site (Gondola), which is 16 km east (toward the ocean) of Chimoio.
Gondola is a town built around a road (the EN6) and a railroad that connect Zimbabwe and Zambia to the Mozambican port of Beira – it is (or at least was before Zimbabwe became a political and economic disaster) probably one of the busiest shipping routes in sub-Saharan Africa. It is evident that there was once a strong Portuguese presence here (my house, for instance was built by the Portuguese railroad company during the height of colonial times) there is also a bizarrely opulent sports club (now in ruins of course) with soccer and basketball stadium along with an Olympic sized pool. Somehow, a population of fish survives in the rainwater that collects in the deep end of the pool (I know because I talked to some kids fishing in the pool). I cannot figure out if it is an evolutionary miracle (that the population of fish evolved in the pool since the 1970s when the Portuguese left) or someone put someone fish in the pool (I will hazard to guess the later is the truth).
The good news (regarding my site), though, is that I am relatively close to “Shoprite” the South African Grocery store chain of which there are just four in Mozambique. If it is food and you can get it in Moz, shoprite has it. This means I am going to be able to eat things like cheese occasionally (I will also be able to eat meat – because I just met a guy who kills a goat everyday and brings it to the market five minutes from my house). So I am excited about my dining possibilities here in Gondola.
Back to my house… first of all it is huge. We (my roommate David and myself) have six large rooms with thirteen or fourteen foot ceilings, but there is absolutely nothing in it and there have not been any repairs or maintenance for at least 33 years since the Portuguese left. When I say nothing I mean nothing – no counters, no shelves, no sink, no running water, (we do have a few lights, but our electricity is terrible), definitely no kitchen, in many cases no window panes. The only things we do have are cockroaches and termites. We are trying to take care of the cockroaches with the nastiest looking chemical at shoprite and cleaning our floors with it (now our house smells like a gasoline spill), the termites are another story. So anyway, I have lots to do, but I also have lots of time (school doesn’t start until February and PC will not let me leave Manica Province until March).
December 27
Christmas came and went even in Mozambique. I went to Chimio and stayed at the apartment of two female health volunteers (there are health volunteers and education volunteers in Moz – I am an education volunteer) along with my roommate and three other girls. It is a pretty swanky apartment – it has running water, consistent electricity, and furniture. We had a nice Christmas, we spent a lot of time cooking American-style food and it all turned out really well. We ate until we felt sick and than we ate some more, than it was time for the secret santa gift exchange (the theme was housewarming gifts and the price limit was 200 meticais – about eight dollars). I received an estiera (a read mat) and a pilao (a wooden mortar and pestle-type device). Christmas was nice, but obviously it is a time when I miss my friends and family in the states.
After a straight week of rain my house in Gondola has developed a termite problem of biblical proportions. They are coming out of holes in the floor and actually building mounds inside the house. They also spawn these large flies with wings that are meant to spread the colony (at least this is what my roommate tells me – and he has watched his share of animal planet). Anyway, the flies come out at night and there are so many of them banging against things in our house that we actually mistook them for rain one night. The situation is even more bizarre because Mozambicans sweep up the flies in our house and eat them (I was offered, but declined). We are trying to remedy the situation as I type by pouring motor oil down the termite holes – to be followed by covering the holes with cement. Not too much else to report, I have been doing a whole lot of nothing recently (which is nice).
Oh yeah, I have a new address:
Polk Duffy - Peter Minchella
P.O Box 234
Chimio, Manica,
Mozambique
Africa
January 14, 2009
Hello friends, I realize it has been a while since I posted anything online, but I ask you (my readership) to bear with me as I try to find a consistent (and affordable internet connection). The other option (if you really like me/ want to correspond) is that you can email me at peter.minchella@gmail.com.
I really do not have much to report, my roommate and myself continue to try to integrate ourselves into the community and settle into our home. We have started playing basketball fairly often (the competition is less than stellar, but that makes me feel better about telling people that I should have recieved more playing time in college). I spend a lot of time cooking, reading, exercising, telling people I will not give them money, being stared at, and playing with the seemingly infinite numbers of children who show up in my yard.
You would be surprised what you can do (cooking-wise) with a stove in Mozambique.
Mangoes are also a big part of my life right now as we are in the midst of mango season. There are three or four large mango trees in my yard, but I generally let kids steal those and buy better ones at the market. Mangoes are unbelievably cheap (at the height of the season – which, sadly, at this point has passed) I was buying five high-quality mangoes for 1 metical (which is equivalent to about 4 cents). The result is that I eat a lot of mangoes (and put them in everything – I am sure that my Italian grandfather would be horrified to know that I made a delicious mango-tomato sauce and ate it with spaghetti). I am anxiously looking forward to avocado season (I also have a large avocado tree in my yard) and whatever else this semi-tropical climate brings me.
My roommate has a guitar, so I am starting to learn a little bit of guitar (everyone knows that chicks love guys who play guitar) so far it is not going well. The start of school looms closer everyday when my inadequate Portuguese (I talk to my roommate in English way to much) will manifest itself into a high school chemistry class.
I recently learned the stunning news that the Arizona Cardinals are in the NFC Championship (this is the kind of thing that makes me feel like I have been out of the country a lot longer than 4 months).
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