Had a good lesson today. Did a Predator and Prey game that I made up. It was complicated, but I managed to explain it with Zach's help.
Found out the exact Internet policy today. I need to have a disclaimer saying that these opinions are mine and not necessarily PC. If you've read this for a while...duh! Hehe.
There's been some complaining about training, language, etc. Most of it has manifested itself constructively, but some people aren't getting what they expected from the program. I think some people aren't getting what they expected from the program. I think some peoples' expectations are a little too high. Our trainers work hard and have to consider many different perspectives when teaching something. We don't know what we're getting into and they don't know where we're coming from. Some of us are teaching in Portuguese, some of us have strong Spanish backgrounds, others have weak French backgrounds. We all have different priorities, knowledge, strengths, weaknesses and learning styles. And in 10 weeks, we want to know everything.
It can get frustrating for anyone to be in this situation, as it has for many of us. I've resigned myself to the fact that it will take time for me to pick up the language, regardless of what is taught. It's a time and effort issue for me. I respond very similarly to good and bad teachers. Not so for others who are scared about their language abilities.
Hardship, I suppose.
Peace
John
(FROM MOM - THUS ENDS THE LATEST INSTALLMENT OF THE JOURNAL!)
Saturday, December 28, 2002
11/25/2002
I had never seen a star twinkle before seeing a moonless night in Africa.
Of course, I could see hundreds of thousands of stars, after the beautiful sunset complete with pink clouds opposite the turquoise sky. And the only light pollution was the lights of Maputo - but the thing I noticed the most tonight was the amazing spectrum of twinkling stars.
We have songs written about such things, but they harken to times and places that were less polluted than 21st century America.
So when you see a star discretely change from red to white to blue and black...it's simply magical. You kinda rub your eyes to make sure what you saw, really happened, and you see it again.
In the States, we're so used to this phenomenon happening because of planes or satellites passing above. So it's our natural inclination to look to another star for confirmation.
So you look to a close star...red-blue-red-white-blue-red-blue-white...and then all of a sudden your focus pans out and you can see every star in the sky twinkling.
Suddenly, the very mysterious night sky becomes alive with evidence of the atmosphere that protects us every day. Like that friend who always does the little things but never takes the credit; you always feel safer knowing they're around.
Blah. My writing's getting sappy. When I have more time, I'll write about some cold, hard facts :)
Peace
John
Of course, I could see hundreds of thousands of stars, after the beautiful sunset complete with pink clouds opposite the turquoise sky. And the only light pollution was the lights of Maputo - but the thing I noticed the most tonight was the amazing spectrum of twinkling stars.
We have songs written about such things, but they harken to times and places that were less polluted than 21st century America.
So when you see a star discretely change from red to white to blue and black...it's simply magical. You kinda rub your eyes to make sure what you saw, really happened, and you see it again.
In the States, we're so used to this phenomenon happening because of planes or satellites passing above. So it's our natural inclination to look to another star for confirmation.
So you look to a close star...red-blue-red-white-blue-red-blue-white...and then all of a sudden your focus pans out and you can see every star in the sky twinkling.
Suddenly, the very mysterious night sky becomes alive with evidence of the atmosphere that protects us every day. Like that friend who always does the little things but never takes the credit; you always feel safer knowing they're around.
Blah. My writing's getting sappy. When I have more time, I'll write about some cold, hard facts :)
Peace
John
11/23/2002
Yesterday was a great day.
We finished our first week of model school yesterday, and the stress from that created an interesting vibe in the group. A lot of people had a tough time this past week, and nobody had it easy. Some current volunteers pitched in and threw us a party (complete with cheese quesadillas, brownies, chocolate chip cookies and smoothies - possibly the best thing any of us had tasted for quite a while) and PC got a DJ to school to play pretty much any music we wanted. Also, we had a very nice "Ngoma Time" - a bunch of talent came out in the group, led by Carolyn's singing prowess.
(In case you haven't noticed by now, I refer to everyone by their first name because I don't want to spoil their relative anonymity :) )
Anyway, before all this happened, we were told by PC (Paolo specifically) that we wouldn't be receiving mail this week because of problems in Maputo. Well, this was pretty rough because of the week we had had, so it didn't get the night off to a great start.
About midway through our party, Didinho (dih-dee-nyoo) let us know that mail had just arrived in the office and it was being delivered right then. Jubilation ensued!
I didn't want to build things up too much, but I ended up having the best mail day yet. I got 3 letters from the States, all sent around the end of October/beginning of November from my Dad, Lisa and Cara! I also got a RANDOM letter from this woman in Malta, Rebecca. She had foundmy address on this journal and wrote a very nice letter!
Receiving my first communication from Lisa was really big, especially since I got my first phone call from Eric this week too. As soon as I got hime, I told my host family that I got the letter, and my host dad told my host mom to go cut a rose.
We have two rosebushes around the house, and one of them has 3 blooms (2 now). They presented the flower on top of the letter and handed it to me very respectfully. I just about died, it was so thoughtful! Sometimes I wonder if my host family understands me and what is important to me (and of course, vice versa), but yesterday it was clear that they knew.
I read my Dad's letter with my host dad, helping him with pronunciation and trying to translate a very colloquial letter. It was a good time, especially since I had been drinking!
This is probably the first day I feel significantly more comfortable about being able to make it 2 years here. Not because of language, teaching ability, etc., but because I'm starting to reestablish communication with the people I'm close to, and it seems to be not only as important for them, but they all completely understand why I'm here and not there, with them. It's hard to admit, from both ends, but we all know that this is something I need to be doing right now.
I'm trying to really take account of how I feel right now, and why it feels good so that I can remember the next time things suck, which could be as soon as this afternoon.
I found that when I was getting stressed out lesson planning this week, it was relaxing to take a step back in my mind and look at the big picture: I'm in Moz, teaching Bio in Portuguese. This isn't supposed to be easy. And I'm not expected to be a good teacher for a few months yet, even a year. So the fact that I'm concerned that the homework I gave didn't make sense except to a couple of students, or I pronounced the word "vagina" incorrectly (with the accent on the first instead of second syllable), should tell me that I'm really doing quite well.
I have a lot of goals for myself this next week of model school, mainly involving Portuguese. One of my perceived weaknesses this past week was my energy level. I had a VERY quiet class of 6th and 7th grades learning 8th grade biology. It was tough to teach them when I was trying to be energetic and not getting anything back. Monday, I get the 10th graders who are apparently very energetic. It should be a good time!
Peace
John
We finished our first week of model school yesterday, and the stress from that created an interesting vibe in the group. A lot of people had a tough time this past week, and nobody had it easy. Some current volunteers pitched in and threw us a party (complete with cheese quesadillas, brownies, chocolate chip cookies and smoothies - possibly the best thing any of us had tasted for quite a while) and PC got a DJ to school to play pretty much any music we wanted. Also, we had a very nice "Ngoma Time" - a bunch of talent came out in the group, led by Carolyn's singing prowess.
(In case you haven't noticed by now, I refer to everyone by their first name because I don't want to spoil their relative anonymity :) )
Anyway, before all this happened, we were told by PC (Paolo specifically) that we wouldn't be receiving mail this week because of problems in Maputo. Well, this was pretty rough because of the week we had had, so it didn't get the night off to a great start.
About midway through our party, Didinho (dih-dee-nyoo) let us know that mail had just arrived in the office and it was being delivered right then. Jubilation ensued!
I didn't want to build things up too much, but I ended up having the best mail day yet. I got 3 letters from the States, all sent around the end of October/beginning of November from my Dad, Lisa and Cara! I also got a RANDOM letter from this woman in Malta, Rebecca. She had foundmy address on this journal and wrote a very nice letter!
Receiving my first communication from Lisa was really big, especially since I got my first phone call from Eric this week too. As soon as I got hime, I told my host family that I got the letter, and my host dad told my host mom to go cut a rose.
We have two rosebushes around the house, and one of them has 3 blooms (2 now). They presented the flower on top of the letter and handed it to me very respectfully. I just about died, it was so thoughtful! Sometimes I wonder if my host family understands me and what is important to me (and of course, vice versa), but yesterday it was clear that they knew.
I read my Dad's letter with my host dad, helping him with pronunciation and trying to translate a very colloquial letter. It was a good time, especially since I had been drinking!
This is probably the first day I feel significantly more comfortable about being able to make it 2 years here. Not because of language, teaching ability, etc., but because I'm starting to reestablish communication with the people I'm close to, and it seems to be not only as important for them, but they all completely understand why I'm here and not there, with them. It's hard to admit, from both ends, but we all know that this is something I need to be doing right now.
I'm trying to really take account of how I feel right now, and why it feels good so that I can remember the next time things suck, which could be as soon as this afternoon.
I found that when I was getting stressed out lesson planning this week, it was relaxing to take a step back in my mind and look at the big picture: I'm in Moz, teaching Bio in Portuguese. This isn't supposed to be easy. And I'm not expected to be a good teacher for a few months yet, even a year. So the fact that I'm concerned that the homework I gave didn't make sense except to a couple of students, or I pronounced the word "vagina" incorrectly (with the accent on the first instead of second syllable), should tell me that I'm really doing quite well.
I have a lot of goals for myself this next week of model school, mainly involving Portuguese. One of my perceived weaknesses this past week was my energy level. I had a VERY quiet class of 6th and 7th grades learning 8th grade biology. It was tough to teach them when I was trying to be energetic and not getting anything back. Monday, I get the 10th graders who are apparently very energetic. It should be a good time!
Peace
John
11/21/2002
I talked with Eric today. It was really great to hear from him. Even though I miss him just as much, it's infinitely better having this connection...
I'm glad I brought the music I brought - I've been listening to Speakeasy a lot lately and a lot of folk. It's nice to hear familiar voices :)
Model school is hard. And stressful. WOOT!
Peace
John
I'm glad I brought the music I brought - I've been listening to Speakeasy a lot lately and a lot of folk. It's nice to hear familiar voices :)
Model school is hard. And stressful. WOOT!
Peace
John
11/20/2002
I really hate McDonald's.
Really.
McD's represents everything the PC experience does not represent. You go to McD's for quick, easy solutions to one of life's major problems. You expect to pay a small price for something that isn't good for you, but goes down easy.
It disgusted me way before I ever considered the PC experience. And the fact that it was brought as a gift for us this week nearly made me vomit.
It was a taste of home for some people, who enjoyed their guilty pleasures. I had to leave the room, however. I couldn't handle smelling or being around such nasty food. It was ushered from South Africa by a staff member, posthaste.
Iggy, one of the training coordinators, dug into his McD's cheeseburger with zeal. From Zimbabwe, he has a completely different perspective on McD's food because it isn't a replacement meal - it's a treat.
So I explained to him why I was so put off: the way McD's monopolizes farmers and controls both methods and prices of beef, misleading tactics to sell their products, their lack of conscience when it comes to what they sell and how fat they help make people, etc. This was all new to him and somewhat entertaining. I felt pretty ridiculous afterwards, realizing that I just tried to explain to someone who has bigger concerns than boycotting business practices that reflect a different society's values. But I think we both learned from the experience.
However, I still detest McDonald's.
Model school is going well, and I'm trying new things every day to see how they fly. I was a live model for the muscular system today. I was shirtless for Sawyer's demonstration of major muscle groups. It was really funny, but I don't think they're going to forget that lesson!
Peace
John
Really.
McD's represents everything the PC experience does not represent. You go to McD's for quick, easy solutions to one of life's major problems. You expect to pay a small price for something that isn't good for you, but goes down easy.
It disgusted me way before I ever considered the PC experience. And the fact that it was brought as a gift for us this week nearly made me vomit.
It was a taste of home for some people, who enjoyed their guilty pleasures. I had to leave the room, however. I couldn't handle smelling or being around such nasty food. It was ushered from South Africa by a staff member, posthaste.
Iggy, one of the training coordinators, dug into his McD's cheeseburger with zeal. From Zimbabwe, he has a completely different perspective on McD's food because it isn't a replacement meal - it's a treat.
So I explained to him why I was so put off: the way McD's monopolizes farmers and controls both methods and prices of beef, misleading tactics to sell their products, their lack of conscience when it comes to what they sell and how fat they help make people, etc. This was all new to him and somewhat entertaining. I felt pretty ridiculous afterwards, realizing that I just tried to explain to someone who has bigger concerns than boycotting business practices that reflect a different society's values. But I think we both learned from the experience.
However, I still detest McDonald's.
Model school is going well, and I'm trying new things every day to see how they fly. I was a live model for the muscular system today. I was shirtless for Sawyer's demonstration of major muscle groups. It was really funny, but I don't think they're going to forget that lesson!
Peace
John
11/19/2002
I hadmy first full class today, and I suppose it went well - it was really tough to get the kids to participate, and even harder when you can't explain yourself fully.
I had a couple of fairly vivid, sentimental dreams last night. The ones I remember now involved the two people I miss the most and haven't been able to communicate with to this point for many reasons - Eric and Lisa.
It's hard to write about this, because I miss them so much. I had a great conversation with my mom (real mom) on Saturday night - and so it makes me miss them that much more, knowing that I'm close to making contact with them. I guess what's more is that our relationships can't help but change over 2 years. I really do feel like I'm on the moon sometimes - whether it be communication, culture, or just this awkward adjustment period. I don't know if there will be a point where I'm completely comfortable being here, but I don't know that I want that. I think feeling like I always need to be working on integrating is a good thing and will make me more culturally aware.
Continuing in a fairly sentimental tone, this is the last page of my first journal, a milestone of sorts. I hope it's the beginning of a long journey with the people who are reading this and a good way for the people I love to keep up with me in the in-between times...
Love and Peace
John
I had a couple of fairly vivid, sentimental dreams last night. The ones I remember now involved the two people I miss the most and haven't been able to communicate with to this point for many reasons - Eric and Lisa.
It's hard to write about this, because I miss them so much. I had a great conversation with my mom (real mom) on Saturday night - and so it makes me miss them that much more, knowing that I'm close to making contact with them. I guess what's more is that our relationships can't help but change over 2 years. I really do feel like I'm on the moon sometimes - whether it be communication, culture, or just this awkward adjustment period. I don't know if there will be a point where I'm completely comfortable being here, but I don't know that I want that. I think feeling like I always need to be working on integrating is a good thing and will make me more culturally aware.
Continuing in a fairly sentimental tone, this is the last page of my first journal, a milestone of sorts. I hope it's the beginning of a long journey with the people who are reading this and a good way for the people I love to keep up with me in the in-between times...
Love and Peace
John
11/18/2002
It's been 48 days in Peace Corps, and already many of my perspectives on the world have changed. I now know how similar people are and how cultures radically alter relationships, but enrich them at the same time.
So I found out why everyone has water issues. Apparently, the water is off for the entire province (or at least this area) because of some work on the pipes. Of course, things were supposed to be fixed already.
I probably shouldn't mention this, but the pheromones are up again this week. Many of the women in the group are ovulating, and so hormones are going crazy. It's funny to be aware of this and see how differently people act!
Peace
John
So I found out why everyone has water issues. Apparently, the water is off for the entire province (or at least this area) because of some work on the pipes. Of course, things were supposed to be fixed already.
I probably shouldn't mention this, but the pheromones are up again this week. Many of the women in the group are ovulating, and so hormones are going crazy. It's funny to be aware of this and see how differently people act!
Peace
John
Friday, December 27, 2002
11/17/2002
Water Problems
Usually when I wake up on Sundays (NOTE: The word "usually" has taken on new meaning here, as anything that happens twice is considered ritual to me.), I wash my clothes. But today, I was asked what was most important to wash.
There are still plenty of mysteries of living here because many of the day-to-day events are only communicated in dialect. I noticed that we had very little water this morning, which was unusual. I started washing my bed sheets, then offered to help get water after it was apparent that that needed to happen.
Most of the bigger families here have wheelbarrows and 25kg water bottles. The wheelbarrows are all marked with "UNICEF" and the water bottles are all the same brand, in either yellow, green or black.
So I started carting the wheelbarrow of empty bottles (4 of them). Please take note that it's VERY strange for a white person to be carting water, even if it is empty. I got a ton of laughs and greetings of "Carting water, eh?" in Portuguese. I responded by saying it was my first time.
About 4 other trainees saw me along the way, as it was a long walk. We finally got to a house, escorted by my brother Antonio (who was acting drum major in our 2-man parade). We waited for my host dad to catch up, and then he determined that they didn't have any water. The house we had stopped at recommended we go to the Mosque.
So we went to one of the nicest buildings in town, a living, breathing Mosque. The man we spoke with was in traditional garb, and seemed to be giving my dad the runaround. We were offering to pay for water (you have to pay for it anyway, unless you go to the river) but he just disappeared after a while. I think my host dad just lost patience. And we weren't alone. There were at least a dozen women waiting.
So Antonio took the water back as we "passear"ed to Zach's place. My dad always asks about him because he "never visits" - which is considered rude, to have a friend who doesn't visit. I tried to explain that he's got a lot of work, etc., but it didn't seem to help.
So, at 8:30AM we stopped by - and Zach was still asleep. His brother woke him up (as company necessitates) and so I immediately told him to go back to sleep, as I explained to my host dad that he was tired. First, my host dad asked Zach why he hasn't come to visit, but we managed to get out of there without much of an issue :)
Carolyn and Sawyer both stop by a lot and end up talking Sr. Bernardo for a while if I'm not there. It's funny to hear them talk about it, because it's a double-edged sword. They love the conversation, but they don't always have the time for it. Kinda the same way I feel sometimes.
Peace
John
(THIS IS MOM-- I'm pooped and will continue this tomorrow...)
Usually when I wake up on Sundays (NOTE: The word "usually" has taken on new meaning here, as anything that happens twice is considered ritual to me.), I wash my clothes. But today, I was asked what was most important to wash.
There are still plenty of mysteries of living here because many of the day-to-day events are only communicated in dialect. I noticed that we had very little water this morning, which was unusual. I started washing my bed sheets, then offered to help get water after it was apparent that that needed to happen.
Most of the bigger families here have wheelbarrows and 25kg water bottles. The wheelbarrows are all marked with "UNICEF" and the water bottles are all the same brand, in either yellow, green or black.
So I started carting the wheelbarrow of empty bottles (4 of them). Please take note that it's VERY strange for a white person to be carting water, even if it is empty. I got a ton of laughs and greetings of "Carting water, eh?" in Portuguese. I responded by saying it was my first time.
About 4 other trainees saw me along the way, as it was a long walk. We finally got to a house, escorted by my brother Antonio (who was acting drum major in our 2-man parade). We waited for my host dad to catch up, and then he determined that they didn't have any water. The house we had stopped at recommended we go to the Mosque.
So we went to one of the nicest buildings in town, a living, breathing Mosque. The man we spoke with was in traditional garb, and seemed to be giving my dad the runaround. We were offering to pay for water (you have to pay for it anyway, unless you go to the river) but he just disappeared after a while. I think my host dad just lost patience. And we weren't alone. There were at least a dozen women waiting.
So Antonio took the water back as we "passear"ed to Zach's place. My dad always asks about him because he "never visits" - which is considered rude, to have a friend who doesn't visit. I tried to explain that he's got a lot of work, etc., but it didn't seem to help.
So, at 8:30AM we stopped by - and Zach was still asleep. His brother woke him up (as company necessitates) and so I immediately told him to go back to sleep, as I explained to my host dad that he was tired. First, my host dad asked Zach why he hasn't come to visit, but we managed to get out of there without much of an issue :)
Carolyn and Sawyer both stop by a lot and end up talking Sr. Bernardo for a while if I'm not there. It's funny to hear them talk about it, because it's a double-edged sword. They love the conversation, but they don't always have the time for it. Kinda the same way I feel sometimes.
Peace
John
(THIS IS MOM-- I'm pooped and will continue this tomorrow...)
11/15/2002
I now know what cooked rat smells like.
Let me start at the beginning.
Wednesday night, I heard and saw a mouse in my room. It's body ws about 5" long and was just tooling about in my room, looking for anything to eat. I had some trash (that I collect and then pack out every week) sitting out, so I got rid of that the next morning. I told my host dad about the problem and suggested we get some poison or something along those lines. He said we'd take care of it on Saturday.
So at about 4:30 this morning, as the sun was rising, I heard it. And it was not trying to eat, but trying to find somewhere to hide during the day. I could tell it was trying to burrow into our cement wall, so I shined my flashlight on it from the comfort of my mosquito-net enclosed bed. I saw it run and hide, so I got up and started...
THE HUNT
I wrapped a towel around my waist to form a makeshift capulana, and looked for whomever was awake. Minutes later my host dad and mom came in and I explained the situation. I had seen it crawl in a hole halfway up the wall, so I pointed out the hole to my dad. He got a stick and a rock, thinking he could trap the rat with the rock. Unsuccessful in this endeavor, he started poking around the hole with the stick. I can only imagine what must have been going through the rat's head at this point. Whatever it was, it looked like sheer panic. I was standing about 5' back of the wall, shining my flashlight on the hole. Sr. Bernardo got the mouse out, and as it came out of the hole, he gave it a little flick...right for my face. I managed to swat the sucker away, but only after making eye contact with what must have been the most freaked-out mouse on the planet at that very moment.
We hunted it in my room for a little longer, managing to scare it into the common room. I closed my door, and we proceeded into...
STAGE TWO - The Common Room
Now, one of my brothers was in on the action, too. My dad armed himself with a wooden spoon, my mom with a fairly mean stick, my brother with a T-shirt, and I grabbed our mini-broom and was in a hockey stance. We all had a good laugh about the situation (in fact, we were laughing the entire time as different languages were fired about). The mouse kept running to different parts of the room, and as it found more hiding spots, we kept moving things outside or on top of the main table.
The mouse seemed to have found a good hiding spot at one point, behind a food cabinet. But we managed to urge it out.
Every time it started running, there was a chorus of yelps and screams followed by a fairly violent "whap-whap-whap" of brooms, sticks and T-shirts. Then laughing, and a regrouping at the assumed hiding spot. This went on for a good 15 minutes until the rat made a break for my room and burrowed under the door. Which leads us to....
SQUARE ONE
Now it was getting serious. I didn't want to kill it before, but it had the balls to go back into my room. So now my room got turned upside down, looking for the fearsome critter. We repeated the previous ritual several times, until it left my room for good and back into the common room. I put a towel in front of my door to make sure there was no repeating the disaster...
REVENGE
After only a minute, the rat came into the clear. My mom had a good read on its pattern, and started thwacking with all her might. She nailed it and it died pretty much instantaneously. Not a bad way to go, if you're a rat, considering what we do to them in labs...
Anyway, we celebrated and presented the corpse on the front step like raising a trophy. It was a great moment, I guess :)
A minute later, it was gone, and I asked what had happened with the body...
BREAKFAST...
Peace
John
Let me start at the beginning.
Wednesday night, I heard and saw a mouse in my room. It's body ws about 5" long and was just tooling about in my room, looking for anything to eat. I had some trash (that I collect and then pack out every week) sitting out, so I got rid of that the next morning. I told my host dad about the problem and suggested we get some poison or something along those lines. He said we'd take care of it on Saturday.
So at about 4:30 this morning, as the sun was rising, I heard it. And it was not trying to eat, but trying to find somewhere to hide during the day. I could tell it was trying to burrow into our cement wall, so I shined my flashlight on it from the comfort of my mosquito-net enclosed bed. I saw it run and hide, so I got up and started...
THE HUNT
I wrapped a towel around my waist to form a makeshift capulana, and looked for whomever was awake. Minutes later my host dad and mom came in and I explained the situation. I had seen it crawl in a hole halfway up the wall, so I pointed out the hole to my dad. He got a stick and a rock, thinking he could trap the rat with the rock. Unsuccessful in this endeavor, he started poking around the hole with the stick. I can only imagine what must have been going through the rat's head at this point. Whatever it was, it looked like sheer panic. I was standing about 5' back of the wall, shining my flashlight on the hole. Sr. Bernardo got the mouse out, and as it came out of the hole, he gave it a little flick...right for my face. I managed to swat the sucker away, but only after making eye contact with what must have been the most freaked-out mouse on the planet at that very moment.
We hunted it in my room for a little longer, managing to scare it into the common room. I closed my door, and we proceeded into...
STAGE TWO - The Common Room
Now, one of my brothers was in on the action, too. My dad armed himself with a wooden spoon, my mom with a fairly mean stick, my brother with a T-shirt, and I grabbed our mini-broom and was in a hockey stance. We all had a good laugh about the situation (in fact, we were laughing the entire time as different languages were fired about). The mouse kept running to different parts of the room, and as it found more hiding spots, we kept moving things outside or on top of the main table.
The mouse seemed to have found a good hiding spot at one point, behind a food cabinet. But we managed to urge it out.
Every time it started running, there was a chorus of yelps and screams followed by a fairly violent "whap-whap-whap" of brooms, sticks and T-shirts. Then laughing, and a regrouping at the assumed hiding spot. This went on for a good 15 minutes until the rat made a break for my room and burrowed under the door. Which leads us to....
SQUARE ONE
Now it was getting serious. I didn't want to kill it before, but it had the balls to go back into my room. So now my room got turned upside down, looking for the fearsome critter. We repeated the previous ritual several times, until it left my room for good and back into the common room. I put a towel in front of my door to make sure there was no repeating the disaster...
REVENGE
After only a minute, the rat came into the clear. My mom had a good read on its pattern, and started thwacking with all her might. She nailed it and it died pretty much instantaneously. Not a bad way to go, if you're a rat, considering what we do to them in labs...
Anyway, we celebrated and presented the corpse on the front step like raising a trophy. It was a great moment, I guess :)
A minute later, it was gone, and I asked what had happened with the body...
BREAKFAST...
Peace
John
11/14/2002
My second lesson was pretty fun, and it was well-received. Though I still don't understand everything the students are saying yet, that will come with time. The more time I spend in the classroom, the more I will understand. It feels like a slow process, but the fact is, I've only been speaking Portuguese for six weeks and already I've taught two lessons in it. Not too shabby.
It's interesting being a month away from swearing in. I think back a month ago, and I realize that it doesn't seem that long. I know we've been busy, but we've only just been able to establish a routine. I wonder what it will be like after I've established a routine at site - how the days and weeks might fly by.
It both scares me and puts my mind at ease to think that time is passing so quickly. I will relish returning to the States, catching up with my old life and starting a brand new one. OK, well, that last paragraph was for me. I know you don't want to hear about all that wishy-washy shit.
Tonight at dinner, I saw for the first time, the "right hand rule" in action. You're not supposed to hand anything to anyone with your left hand, a remnant of Arab traditions. It makes sense, though, as most people use their left hand to wipe their ass. One of those Darwinian things ("He's still alive because his family didn't serve him feces for dinner.")
My host mom had a glass in her right hand, and grabbed an empty water bottle for me to fill with my left hand. She realized her error and placed her right hand (with glass) under her left arm while handing me the water bottle. This signifies that she is excusing her dirty hand.
(Something else she does - and many people do this - is that she touches her left hand to her right elbow when receiving something, to show respect. Every time I lend her my knife - every day - she uses this form of respect. You'll see this happen during handshakes, when meeting someone respected for the first time. I've used it on several occasions.)
Also, my host dad was looking for matches (the Portuguese roughly translates to "phosphors") and I had them right in front of me. Without thinking, I grabbed them with my left hand and gave him the matches, which he proceeded to grab with his left hand. Realizing his mistake, he let go and switched hands. It was strange, but I understand the awkwardness of it all.
In other news, I made a note for myself to write about my host father's clothes. It is the best wardrobe...ever. And he's quite the snappy dresser. I'm being sarcastic.
When it's warm in the morning, he'll often wear a mesh tank top (as Carolyn said, "Yeah, quite fashionable...for 1985) and cargo shorts. He's got a few collared shirts, which he always wears with the collar up and buttons unfastened. This is a common fashion here.
It gets interesting though, then it gets "cold". By cold, I mean below 60F. JUST below. One morning, my father walked out with a petticoat on. The next morning, it was a fake fur. Oh yeah, and he wasn't wearing a shirt underneath. I nagged him a little for his interesting taste in dress, and we all had a good laugh. He even complained that he was still cold, so I gave him one of my hats. I explained the logo (it's a baseball hat) and he seems to have taken to it.
I give him shit about his fashion, but really, I'm quite impressed with the amount he actually has. My two older brothers share some outfits; my host mom wears the same three tattered T-shirts salvaged from the USA; and my youngest brother often runs around nakes, except for a capulana. And it all has an American influence.
People think of malnourishment when they think of Africa, but one of the biggest things that strikes you about poverty on a daily basis is the dependence (and existence) of fashion in developed nations. In most MOZ communities, people don't dress to impress - they dress to be covered and warm. It's actually quite a relief to not be constantly concerned about fashion. Those who know me are laughing right now. (NOTE FROM MOM --- JOHN MARCHES TO HIS OWN FASHION DRUMMER...)
Essentially, I'm trying to say that you learn to do without a lot of things without much trouble, and then you look at the way things were with curiosity, humor and sometimes disdain. I did this a lot before coming here, so it's nice to have some of my views on what's REALLY necessary, vindicated.
It's funny how the only things you miss are the only things you can't buy. Especially when you don't have the money to buy them in any case!
Peace
John
It's interesting being a month away from swearing in. I think back a month ago, and I realize that it doesn't seem that long. I know we've been busy, but we've only just been able to establish a routine. I wonder what it will be like after I've established a routine at site - how the days and weeks might fly by.
It both scares me and puts my mind at ease to think that time is passing so quickly. I will relish returning to the States, catching up with my old life and starting a brand new one. OK, well, that last paragraph was for me. I know you don't want to hear about all that wishy-washy shit.
Tonight at dinner, I saw for the first time, the "right hand rule" in action. You're not supposed to hand anything to anyone with your left hand, a remnant of Arab traditions. It makes sense, though, as most people use their left hand to wipe their ass. One of those Darwinian things ("He's still alive because his family didn't serve him feces for dinner.")
My host mom had a glass in her right hand, and grabbed an empty water bottle for me to fill with my left hand. She realized her error and placed her right hand (with glass) under her left arm while handing me the water bottle. This signifies that she is excusing her dirty hand.
(Something else she does - and many people do this - is that she touches her left hand to her right elbow when receiving something, to show respect. Every time I lend her my knife - every day - she uses this form of respect. You'll see this happen during handshakes, when meeting someone respected for the first time. I've used it on several occasions.)
Also, my host dad was looking for matches (the Portuguese roughly translates to "phosphors") and I had them right in front of me. Without thinking, I grabbed them with my left hand and gave him the matches, which he proceeded to grab with his left hand. Realizing his mistake, he let go and switched hands. It was strange, but I understand the awkwardness of it all.
In other news, I made a note for myself to write about my host father's clothes. It is the best wardrobe...ever. And he's quite the snappy dresser. I'm being sarcastic.
When it's warm in the morning, he'll often wear a mesh tank top (as Carolyn said, "Yeah, quite fashionable...for 1985) and cargo shorts. He's got a few collared shirts, which he always wears with the collar up and buttons unfastened. This is a common fashion here.
It gets interesting though, then it gets "cold". By cold, I mean below 60F. JUST below. One morning, my father walked out with a petticoat on. The next morning, it was a fake fur. Oh yeah, and he wasn't wearing a shirt underneath. I nagged him a little for his interesting taste in dress, and we all had a good laugh. He even complained that he was still cold, so I gave him one of my hats. I explained the logo (it's a baseball hat) and he seems to have taken to it.
I give him shit about his fashion, but really, I'm quite impressed with the amount he actually has. My two older brothers share some outfits; my host mom wears the same three tattered T-shirts salvaged from the USA; and my youngest brother often runs around nakes, except for a capulana. And it all has an American influence.
People think of malnourishment when they think of Africa, but one of the biggest things that strikes you about poverty on a daily basis is the dependence (and existence) of fashion in developed nations. In most MOZ communities, people don't dress to impress - they dress to be covered and warm. It's actually quite a relief to not be constantly concerned about fashion. Those who know me are laughing right now. (NOTE FROM MOM --- JOHN MARCHES TO HIS OWN FASHION DRUMMER...)
Essentially, I'm trying to say that you learn to do without a lot of things without much trouble, and then you look at the way things were with curiosity, humor and sometimes disdain. I did this a lot before coming here, so it's nice to have some of my views on what's REALLY necessary, vindicated.
It's funny how the only things you miss are the only things you can't buy. Especially when you don't have the money to buy them in any case!
Peace
John
11/13/2002
I taught my first class today - ever.
Well, let me qualify that.
I've taught before, just never in a formal classroom setting or teaching required material. So it was an experience, especially since I was teaching in Portuguese.
It was only a twenty-minute lesson, and I based it on the similarities of humans to other mammals. I went over the various differences we have and made a list with the students. Then, we concentrated on similarities and made a similar list.
And when I say students, I mean it. Some local 8th graders (ages ranging from 15-18, most likely) sat in on our "micro" teaching, our first forays into education in Mozambique. They acted like normal MOZ students, copying dutifully every word we wrote on the board.
My biology lesson went well, and to some extent, I was able to explain myself, but it was quite difficult. Knowing that they know Portuguese 10x better than I do can be intimidating if not downright scary. But most of the Bio teachers are doing really well with this challenge and we are already working quite hard (and spending less time playing cards or hanging out at the bar...)
The English teachers are similarly thriving, and feeling out for themselves how much Portuguese they can and should use in a given lesson. The lessons I sat in on were very interesting to watch. It's a real test for some people to stay patient and find other ways to explain themselves that the students understand.
It seems like these 3 days of micro-school and probably the first week of model school (next week) will create a sink-or-swin situation for some people. If you're not patient, or are weak in Portuguese (and a bio teacher), then something is going to give over the next few days. I think a couple people are on the brink of leaving, and I truly hope that they stick with the program and the rest of us reach out to them.
It would be a shame to lose more people who are so willing to give of their time.
On the positive side, however, I am very relieved with my first lesson. I had moderately expanded notes, and spent most of the lesson talking from the Portuguese I know. It didn't come out too grammatically correct, but that's just something I need to work on, and will come with time.
It's both exciting and daunting, being done with this first day. I only put together 1/2 a lesson, and yet it took quite a while to draw up and even more time thinking about it. I guess I just need practice and confidence.
Today at lunch, I was told that even more parents are reading this. We all say HI! Please realize thought that these are only my experiences and everyone's experience is radically different!
On Monday, I found out the Republicans took control of the Senate. Today, we found out that Iraq denied UN inspectors and W stated he's going to attack Iraq if Hussein confirms the denial of UN inspectors. The combination of these things makes it very likely that we will go to war in January in my mind, unless the UN steps in immediately. I think it's in our best interests here, as aid/development/PEACE workers that war is avoided at all costs. After all, as PC volunteers, we essentially work for the U.S. government...I hope W finds a peaceful solution as I know can be found.
Peace
John
Well, let me qualify that.
I've taught before, just never in a formal classroom setting or teaching required material. So it was an experience, especially since I was teaching in Portuguese.
It was only a twenty-minute lesson, and I based it on the similarities of humans to other mammals. I went over the various differences we have and made a list with the students. Then, we concentrated on similarities and made a similar list.
And when I say students, I mean it. Some local 8th graders (ages ranging from 15-18, most likely) sat in on our "micro" teaching, our first forays into education in Mozambique. They acted like normal MOZ students, copying dutifully every word we wrote on the board.
My biology lesson went well, and to some extent, I was able to explain myself, but it was quite difficult. Knowing that they know Portuguese 10x better than I do can be intimidating if not downright scary. But most of the Bio teachers are doing really well with this challenge and we are already working quite hard (and spending less time playing cards or hanging out at the bar...)
The English teachers are similarly thriving, and feeling out for themselves how much Portuguese they can and should use in a given lesson. The lessons I sat in on were very interesting to watch. It's a real test for some people to stay patient and find other ways to explain themselves that the students understand.
It seems like these 3 days of micro-school and probably the first week of model school (next week) will create a sink-or-swin situation for some people. If you're not patient, or are weak in Portuguese (and a bio teacher), then something is going to give over the next few days. I think a couple people are on the brink of leaving, and I truly hope that they stick with the program and the rest of us reach out to them.
It would be a shame to lose more people who are so willing to give of their time.
On the positive side, however, I am very relieved with my first lesson. I had moderately expanded notes, and spent most of the lesson talking from the Portuguese I know. It didn't come out too grammatically correct, but that's just something I need to work on, and will come with time.
It's both exciting and daunting, being done with this first day. I only put together 1/2 a lesson, and yet it took quite a while to draw up and even more time thinking about it. I guess I just need practice and confidence.
Today at lunch, I was told that even more parents are reading this. We all say HI! Please realize thought that these are only my experiences and everyone's experience is radically different!
On Monday, I found out the Republicans took control of the Senate. Today, we found out that Iraq denied UN inspectors and W stated he's going to attack Iraq if Hussein confirms the denial of UN inspectors. The combination of these things makes it very likely that we will go to war in January in my mind, unless the UN steps in immediately. I think it's in our best interests here, as aid/development/PEACE workers that war is avoided at all costs. After all, as PC volunteers, we essentially work for the U.S. government...I hope W finds a peaceful solution as I know can be found.
Peace
John
11/12/2002
I'm realizing how important each of us has (and will) become for this country. Many schools have less than a dozen teachers, and very few qualified to teach English. All told, the Ministry of Education says that they need 6000 teachers in Mozambique. Though 36 is an impressive number by PC/MOZ standards, it's less than 1% of the need. Hardly seems adequate.
Even so, our role is magnified in MOZ as we are expected to play an active part in the community. No matter which site I end up at, I will have another volunteer there with me, if not living in the same house. Together, we will be expected by PC and the school to transfer our knowledge to the community - meaning that 2 people will be expected to contribute the passion and information of 100x as many people. We will have to fill gaps we didn't know existed. It's intimidating to be in this situation, especially since we're not sure we should be doing this in the first place (well, some of us).
Walking into another country and telling them you can do things better than they've been doing them is a very touchy subject. It's the plight of the development worker, and no matter how much time and effort one puts in, there's always the risk of never being accepted.
And, on the other hand, if we are accepted into the community and there are hundreds of times more communities that need our help, how can we but make a dent? How can we feel that we've simply done our part and leave somebody else to continue our work elsewhere? How can we not feel frustration at Americans who bathe every day in the fruits of privilege (my metaphors have gone downhill as well:) )? Or even at the Mozambicans who do nothing about their situation except accepting their plight as a poor nation. There aren't many of the latter, but it's hard not to get worked up when meeting them.
Basically, I feel like there is an inordinate amount of pressure on those of us who may still be coming to terms with putting our lives on hold - so much pressure, that perspective is lost. Taking a couple steps back, it's plain to see that giving two years of our best efforts is but a drop in the bucket for what we can do for this country. It becomes not a question of staying, but a question of opportunities here in Africa. And, importantly, relaying this feeling to our loved ones.
Peace
John
Even so, our role is magnified in MOZ as we are expected to play an active part in the community. No matter which site I end up at, I will have another volunteer there with me, if not living in the same house. Together, we will be expected by PC and the school to transfer our knowledge to the community - meaning that 2 people will be expected to contribute the passion and information of 100x as many people. We will have to fill gaps we didn't know existed. It's intimidating to be in this situation, especially since we're not sure we should be doing this in the first place (well, some of us).
Walking into another country and telling them you can do things better than they've been doing them is a very touchy subject. It's the plight of the development worker, and no matter how much time and effort one puts in, there's always the risk of never being accepted.
And, on the other hand, if we are accepted into the community and there are hundreds of times more communities that need our help, how can we but make a dent? How can we feel that we've simply done our part and leave somebody else to continue our work elsewhere? How can we not feel frustration at Americans who bathe every day in the fruits of privilege (my metaphors have gone downhill as well:) )? Or even at the Mozambicans who do nothing about their situation except accepting their plight as a poor nation. There aren't many of the latter, but it's hard not to get worked up when meeting them.
Basically, I feel like there is an inordinate amount of pressure on those of us who may still be coming to terms with putting our lives on hold - so much pressure, that perspective is lost. Taking a couple steps back, it's plain to see that giving two years of our best efforts is but a drop in the bucket for what we can do for this country. It becomes not a question of staying, but a question of opportunities here in Africa. And, importantly, relaying this feeling to our loved ones.
Peace
John
11/11/2002
I really don't know which site I'd like to end up at. In talking about all of the sites with everyone, it seems like all of the houses are very nice and there are a bunch of spots near the water.
Because I'm in the relatively unique position of being a male bio teacher who's not married and may well be limited to being within 6 hours of Maputo (due to asthma), I have two likely sites I may end up at and two more I could go to if I fought hard enough. One of the likely sites, of course, is the one I visited. It's not that I couldn't make it there, I just don't know if it's for me.
In any case, I'm going to have a roommate or a sitemate.
Rumor has it that one of the more admired volunteers has left the program early. People can't help but have a few doubts when things like that happen.
We got new language classes today, and I'm in the slower bio teacher class. In talking with the training coordinator, I confirmed why. In terms of being able to speak, I'm doing very well. However, I know I have problems with understanding the language when it's spoken. I can only understand words I know how to say - and because I can only learn so much every day, it takes a while to get to that point. Other people can understand more than they can speak, because of their Spanish backgrounds, but I surpassed my Spanish book in the second week. I know that I can help others in my class, and by doing that, help myself. So, as much time as I have (not much), I will be spending more tutoring and working with others.
I spoke with my mother and father today on the cellphone that Chris and Neha bought, then got broken under warranty, and was replaced with a "new" phone. In fact, this phone was used and has a bad receiver. You have to yell in order for the other person to hear you, but I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Didn't receive any mail today, but some should be coming tomorrow (hopefully).
Over the next few weeks, entries may be getting shorter as the pace of training picks up. I'll be more opportunistic about writing, but I can't guarantee anything!
Peace
John
Because I'm in the relatively unique position of being a male bio teacher who's not married and may well be limited to being within 6 hours of Maputo (due to asthma), I have two likely sites I may end up at and two more I could go to if I fought hard enough. One of the likely sites, of course, is the one I visited. It's not that I couldn't make it there, I just don't know if it's for me.
In any case, I'm going to have a roommate or a sitemate.
Rumor has it that one of the more admired volunteers has left the program early. People can't help but have a few doubts when things like that happen.
We got new language classes today, and I'm in the slower bio teacher class. In talking with the training coordinator, I confirmed why. In terms of being able to speak, I'm doing very well. However, I know I have problems with understanding the language when it's spoken. I can only understand words I know how to say - and because I can only learn so much every day, it takes a while to get to that point. Other people can understand more than they can speak, because of their Spanish backgrounds, but I surpassed my Spanish book in the second week. I know that I can help others in my class, and by doing that, help myself. So, as much time as I have (not much), I will be spending more tutoring and working with others.
I spoke with my mother and father today on the cellphone that Chris and Neha bought, then got broken under warranty, and was replaced with a "new" phone. In fact, this phone was used and has a bad receiver. You have to yell in order for the other person to hear you, but I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Didn't receive any mail today, but some should be coming tomorrow (hopefully).
Over the next few weeks, entries may be getting shorter as the pace of training picks up. I'll be more opportunistic about writing, but I can't guarantee anything!
Peace
John
11/20/2002
Yesterday, we went to Xai-Xai, on the Indian (Ocean) coast. We had to take three chapas to get to the beach, and it took from 7:30, stopping for 3 hours, then going again and arriving at about 3 PM. But it was worth it.
I'd never set foot in the Indian Ocean before, and it's not as if my 3rd ocean was spectacularly different - it was just the novelty of it all. Of course, it was a gorgeous, unfettered beach and there were only a handful of people there on a beautiful day. Although I enjoyed myself, it was a guilty pleasure. I know I'm not here to be a beach bum - and I'm also privileged enough to have the choice. Most people can't afford to ship out to the beach - ever - and the people who buy up the property fence themselves in with their satellite dishes and SUVs. It creates a further dichotomy when you see this alongside reed huts. So can we ever integrate into the community when there's not only a perception but a reality that we have money and time to waste? Many volunteers have shown that they think so, but I wonder how true their integration really is. I would love to see if I can truly live at the level of the community, instead of slightly above it.
Anyway, the water was chilly and blue, perfect for a hot day. We did some body surfing and threw around a frisbee. We left the beach late afternoon and got into Xai-Xai for dinner at a tourist restaurant (however cheap).
Well, after dinner we went to a volunteer's house to hang out. Then we headed to the discoteca - Miao Miao. It was a fun one and played both traditional and pop American songs. This seemed to have more international interest, as it was near the beach and the tourist areas. I've gotten over the weirdness of being in dance clubs here - and how eerily similar the whole experience is to the States. I had a good talk with Lisa - I needed to vent some homesickness.
We returned from the club quite late, and most of us ended up only getting a couple hours of sleep before we rented our own chapa (between the 12 of us) straight to Boane. I've been napping and studying since I got home- well, trying. My host dad keeps interrupting. To him, it's not interrupting and I understand that, but it's still frustrating.
So I know what I want from a site now. I just don't think it exists. So no matter what, I'm going to have to compromise. It's not as if I came to Africa expecting anything anyway. It's just that we've been allowed to form expectations and desires about the rest of our experience, which is dangerous. I look forward to getting to site, but I'm also excited about this last half of training. My Portuguese came a long way this weekend, if only in colloquial ways. But confidence is confidence, so I'm a happy camper!
Peace
John
I'd never set foot in the Indian Ocean before, and it's not as if my 3rd ocean was spectacularly different - it was just the novelty of it all. Of course, it was a gorgeous, unfettered beach and there were only a handful of people there on a beautiful day. Although I enjoyed myself, it was a guilty pleasure. I know I'm not here to be a beach bum - and I'm also privileged enough to have the choice. Most people can't afford to ship out to the beach - ever - and the people who buy up the property fence themselves in with their satellite dishes and SUVs. It creates a further dichotomy when you see this alongside reed huts. So can we ever integrate into the community when there's not only a perception but a reality that we have money and time to waste? Many volunteers have shown that they think so, but I wonder how true their integration really is. I would love to see if I can truly live at the level of the community, instead of slightly above it.
Anyway, the water was chilly and blue, perfect for a hot day. We did some body surfing and threw around a frisbee. We left the beach late afternoon and got into Xai-Xai for dinner at a tourist restaurant (however cheap).
Well, after dinner we went to a volunteer's house to hang out. Then we headed to the discoteca - Miao Miao. It was a fun one and played both traditional and pop American songs. This seemed to have more international interest, as it was near the beach and the tourist areas. I've gotten over the weirdness of being in dance clubs here - and how eerily similar the whole experience is to the States. I had a good talk with Lisa - I needed to vent some homesickness.
We returned from the club quite late, and most of us ended up only getting a couple hours of sleep before we rented our own chapa (between the 12 of us) straight to Boane. I've been napping and studying since I got home- well, trying. My host dad keeps interrupting. To him, it's not interrupting and I understand that, but it's still frustrating.
So I know what I want from a site now. I just don't think it exists. So no matter what, I'm going to have to compromise. It's not as if I came to Africa expecting anything anyway. It's just that we've been allowed to form expectations and desires about the rest of our experience, which is dangerous. I look forward to getting to site, but I'm also excited about this last half of training. My Portuguese came a long way this weekend, if only in colloquial ways. But confidence is confidence, so I'm a happy camper!
Peace
John
11/8/2002
This is a really great site to be a volunteer. The town is pretty big, but not so big that it's intimidating. There are essentially two main streets that intersect, which have most of the commerce, but of course there are shops all over the place. And these are real shops, too. They're big enough for a dozen to be Mozambique-ly comfortable in, and are usually populated with flies. The flies don't bother me. The mosquitoes at night bother me, because I know some of them are malarial.
This may seem random, but I'm finding that I'm censoring myself in this journal because of PC sensitivities way too much. I wish there were some way around this, but I understand why PC is apolitical - otherwise, host countries would think twice about have volunteers coming in - and controlled by lawyers. It is like any other U.S. organization, defined by the limits of their liability because people equate life and happiness with money. So we can't do or say certain things because our parents/loved ones could (in theory) sue. I mention this only because this seems so ridiculous. The culture I'm in right now is very much concerned with living life and not about being afraid. So to try and explain to Mozambicans why we have to wear helmets when riding a bike is difficult, once you get past language.
"Speaking" of language, the two volunteers I'm visiting, Tober and Blake, and I had some good conversations about learning Portuguese. Tober is fluent now (he's in his second year and will leave MOZ in December), and he set my mind at ease. He was in the middle of the pack, was focused on pronunciation and learning Portuguese the slow and methodical way instead of the quick way. He's also a Biology teacher. Additionally, we look alike - and everyone the past couple days has been calling me Tober or Tober's brother (irmao). Since there are 4 unmarried male bio teachers, one of us will end up here with Blake. I'm not sure I want to be here - it's a great town, and the people are fantastic. There's a lot of opportunity for music and theatre, and a bunch of people speak English well. However, life here is relatively easy compared with Boane. I don't know that I want that. And since I resemble and have similar interests to Tober, it might be quite difficult to create my own identity and change peoples' perception of what to expect from me.
I think I'm going to wait and see what the other bio sites are like before I put down my preferences. I love the idea of having an indoor shower when it's cold, but I also like staring at the stars.
I didn't come here to be picky - far from it, actually. But I just want to make sure I have the opportunity to really make a difference in people's lives, which I think both Blake and Tober have done, however, I have different ideas of impacting others.
In other matters, both the guys here are big into basketball. The French came in and built a great multisport court here in town, and so that's where everyone plays. It's kind of strange to see this relatively modern court built by the French in the middle of Africa. I mean, the French aren't that good at basketball. Maybe they built it for recruiting :)
In the Maputo paper today, there was a story about the local roller hockey league. There's one court in Maputo (and probably in all of MOZ) where they play roller hockey on roller skates (the 2x2 kind) with limited equipment. But apparently this is the latest craze in this part of Africa. If I'm near Maputo, I'll definitely have to find this place. Talk about big fish in a small pond. How many MOZ grew up on hockey??
Now for something completely different...
On the Internet today, I saw how much of an influence - rather, how well-known - this journal is getting to be. It's intimidating, but definitely a good thing. I think the more people can learn about different cultures, the better, even if it is secondhand. Especially when it happens all over the world, like it's happening. I'm definitely going to try and distill these experiences into a book after I return, as there seems to be genuine interest.
I'm getting a better handle on the personalities of the MOZ people little by little. There's an incredible variation in personality styles once you get past the universal cultural differences. Just like the U.S. People are sensitive, combative, curious, loud, laid back, fun-loving, etc. Just like anywhere else. So what is it about humans that we have such different personalities, even among the same people? How is nurture and how much is nature?
As these are questions that will take years to answer, I will keep them in the back of my head for a while and let 'em simmer. Right now, I have to focus on my job and learning language.
Monday I have the phone again!
Peace
John
This may seem random, but I'm finding that I'm censoring myself in this journal because of PC sensitivities way too much. I wish there were some way around this, but I understand why PC is apolitical - otherwise, host countries would think twice about have volunteers coming in - and controlled by lawyers. It is like any other U.S. organization, defined by the limits of their liability because people equate life and happiness with money. So we can't do or say certain things because our parents/loved ones could (in theory) sue. I mention this only because this seems so ridiculous. The culture I'm in right now is very much concerned with living life and not about being afraid. So to try and explain to Mozambicans why we have to wear helmets when riding a bike is difficult, once you get past language.
"Speaking" of language, the two volunteers I'm visiting, Tober and Blake, and I had some good conversations about learning Portuguese. Tober is fluent now (he's in his second year and will leave MOZ in December), and he set my mind at ease. He was in the middle of the pack, was focused on pronunciation and learning Portuguese the slow and methodical way instead of the quick way. He's also a Biology teacher. Additionally, we look alike - and everyone the past couple days has been calling me Tober or Tober's brother (irmao). Since there are 4 unmarried male bio teachers, one of us will end up here with Blake. I'm not sure I want to be here - it's a great town, and the people are fantastic. There's a lot of opportunity for music and theatre, and a bunch of people speak English well. However, life here is relatively easy compared with Boane. I don't know that I want that. And since I resemble and have similar interests to Tober, it might be quite difficult to create my own identity and change peoples' perception of what to expect from me.
I think I'm going to wait and see what the other bio sites are like before I put down my preferences. I love the idea of having an indoor shower when it's cold, but I also like staring at the stars.
I didn't come here to be picky - far from it, actually. But I just want to make sure I have the opportunity to really make a difference in people's lives, which I think both Blake and Tober have done, however, I have different ideas of impacting others.
In other matters, both the guys here are big into basketball. The French came in and built a great multisport court here in town, and so that's where everyone plays. It's kind of strange to see this relatively modern court built by the French in the middle of Africa. I mean, the French aren't that good at basketball. Maybe they built it for recruiting :)
In the Maputo paper today, there was a story about the local roller hockey league. There's one court in Maputo (and probably in all of MOZ) where they play roller hockey on roller skates (the 2x2 kind) with limited equipment. But apparently this is the latest craze in this part of Africa. If I'm near Maputo, I'll definitely have to find this place. Talk about big fish in a small pond. How many MOZ grew up on hockey??
Now for something completely different...
On the Internet today, I saw how much of an influence - rather, how well-known - this journal is getting to be. It's intimidating, but definitely a good thing. I think the more people can learn about different cultures, the better, even if it is secondhand. Especially when it happens all over the world, like it's happening. I'm definitely going to try and distill these experiences into a book after I return, as there seems to be genuine interest.
I'm getting a better handle on the personalities of the MOZ people little by little. There's an incredible variation in personality styles once you get past the universal cultural differences. Just like the U.S. People are sensitive, combative, curious, loud, laid back, fun-loving, etc. Just like anywhere else. So what is it about humans that we have such different personalities, even among the same people? How is nurture and how much is nature?
As these are questions that will take years to answer, I will keep them in the back of my head for a while and let 'em simmer. Right now, I have to focus on my job and learning language.
Monday I have the phone again!
Peace
John
11/7/2002
I'm in Gaza province on site visit. I'm writing under electricity and (somewhat) running water. I've spoken more English to locals than I have in the five previous weeks combined. I even tried some French with a native speaker. I got out "Je ne me souviens pas francais" and he responded that if I remembered how to say that, then I should know how to speak. I was too ashamed to admit that the only reason I remembered that phrase was because it's on the Quebec license plate.
My Portuguese is getting better, and I was able to speak it with a bunch of people today.
However, I got up at 3:30 AM and it's now 10:30 PM. I'm going to sleep.
Peace
John
My Portuguese is getting better, and I was able to speak it with a bunch of people today.
However, I got up at 3:30 AM and it's now 10:30 PM. I'm going to sleep.
Peace
John
11/6/2002
(THIS IS MOM ON 12/27 --- I JUST RECEIVED JOHN'S JOURNAL FROM 11/6 THROUGH 11/26. JUST SO YOU ALL KNOW, HE IS NOW AT HIS PERMANENT SITE AND HAS A SNAIL MAIL ADDRESS IF YOU WISH TO CORRESPOND WITH HIM IN THAT FASHION. JUST EMAIL HIM AND LET HIM KNOW.)
I feel like there's so much I want to document before I stop noticing it. So much. Of course, I felt similarly overwhelmed in the States, but I never had the routine of writing in a journal.
So the weather.
The weather is strange. There are two official seasons, winter and summer. Winter is the three months of American summar, and summer is the other nine months. By winter, they mean, of course, that the average temperature is in the 70s and not the 80s.
There is a rainy season, and when it is supposed to begin and how long it is supposed to last is the topic of much debate. Many of us have heard that it was supposed to begin in September. Some heard even August. Others heard that it was supposed to start in January. And for how long? Anywhere between a week and a month. So really, rainy season could strike at any time and for 1-4 weeks. And it randomly rains, too.
The only thing that PC people need to worry about is flooding. If it seriously floods, there could be an outbreak of cholera, which means we would be at least temporarily evacuated. And of course, it would devastate this already poor country. By the same token, if these rains don't come (and they haven't, some years), the country will be horribly crippled. Such a difference from the US, where we worry ourselves about homes being washed away and other trifles... Nineteen million peoples' well-being depends on the weather, and in turn, what the 1st world does to the environment. Think global warming sucks because you don't have as much snow this year? Sorry, I promise not to get preachy. After all, this is my journal...
So, the weather. It's been nippy the past couple days. Today it was in the mid-50s (Fahrenheit). For Africans, this is COLD. For Americans prepared for mere summer, this is chilly. For Americans taking outdoor bucket baths like I'm about to do, it's RIDICULOUS. I feel like my testicles are going to freeze into stones and drop off my body, one at a time. Tink...tink. It's cold.
The sky, however, is spectacular at all times. When it's sunny, the land around here is so flat that you can see for over 20 miles. You can see the distortion of the clouds in the sky as they follow the curve of the earth, and you can see the clouds drop off into the horizon. When they're not burning trash, there's no pollution to speak of, and you realize how much ambient pollution there is in the US at all times.
At night (and I think I previously explained this), the sky is breathtaking. You can see stars pop out while there's still enough light to write by. Then, as the night gets older, you can see hundreds and thousands more stars. Constellations become crystal clear, and you can jump into the minds of the first navigators who stared at the very same patterns for years at a time. You look around at the life around you and marvel at the simplicity - nighttime is my hour of justification. I am a creature of the moment, and all of my emotions are intense. So when I have even one day of homesickness or of lamenting a stupid cultural error, a simple look up into the heavens and then back around at the village that is lit by moonlight, all is forgotten, at least for long enough to temper my mental state.
It is how the Earth is meant to be seen and used, and it appeals to humans subconsciously. No picture I can take can reveal its simultaneous simplicity and perfection, and no words can describe how raw and pure it really is. I guess this is why it's so jarring to me to see 21st century America in bits and pieces alongside what is classically "human". And such is the question of my presence here - which category do I fall under?
Peace
John
I feel like there's so much I want to document before I stop noticing it. So much. Of course, I felt similarly overwhelmed in the States, but I never had the routine of writing in a journal.
So the weather.
The weather is strange. There are two official seasons, winter and summer. Winter is the three months of American summar, and summer is the other nine months. By winter, they mean, of course, that the average temperature is in the 70s and not the 80s.
There is a rainy season, and when it is supposed to begin and how long it is supposed to last is the topic of much debate. Many of us have heard that it was supposed to begin in September. Some heard even August. Others heard that it was supposed to start in January. And for how long? Anywhere between a week and a month. So really, rainy season could strike at any time and for 1-4 weeks. And it randomly rains, too.
The only thing that PC people need to worry about is flooding. If it seriously floods, there could be an outbreak of cholera, which means we would be at least temporarily evacuated. And of course, it would devastate this already poor country. By the same token, if these rains don't come (and they haven't, some years), the country will be horribly crippled. Such a difference from the US, where we worry ourselves about homes being washed away and other trifles... Nineteen million peoples' well-being depends on the weather, and in turn, what the 1st world does to the environment. Think global warming sucks because you don't have as much snow this year? Sorry, I promise not to get preachy. After all, this is my journal...
So, the weather. It's been nippy the past couple days. Today it was in the mid-50s (Fahrenheit). For Africans, this is COLD. For Americans prepared for mere summer, this is chilly. For Americans taking outdoor bucket baths like I'm about to do, it's RIDICULOUS. I feel like my testicles are going to freeze into stones and drop off my body, one at a time. Tink...tink. It's cold.
The sky, however, is spectacular at all times. When it's sunny, the land around here is so flat that you can see for over 20 miles. You can see the distortion of the clouds in the sky as they follow the curve of the earth, and you can see the clouds drop off into the horizon. When they're not burning trash, there's no pollution to speak of, and you realize how much ambient pollution there is in the US at all times.
At night (and I think I previously explained this), the sky is breathtaking. You can see stars pop out while there's still enough light to write by. Then, as the night gets older, you can see hundreds and thousands more stars. Constellations become crystal clear, and you can jump into the minds of the first navigators who stared at the very same patterns for years at a time. You look around at the life around you and marvel at the simplicity - nighttime is my hour of justification. I am a creature of the moment, and all of my emotions are intense. So when I have even one day of homesickness or of lamenting a stupid cultural error, a simple look up into the heavens and then back around at the village that is lit by moonlight, all is forgotten, at least for long enough to temper my mental state.
It is how the Earth is meant to be seen and used, and it appeals to humans subconsciously. No picture I can take can reveal its simultaneous simplicity and perfection, and no words can describe how raw and pure it really is. I guess this is why it's so jarring to me to see 21st century America in bits and pieces alongside what is classically "human". And such is the question of my presence here - which category do I fall under?
Peace
John
Saturday, December 14, 2002
Swearing In!!
I am swearing in today, in about four hours. There are 36 of us who are gonna have a great time tonight, and we´re all really excited to be volunteers. I have received a bunch of mail that I haven´t had the chance to respond to just yet, but there should be a whole bunch of journal entries arriving before Christmas.
Speaking of X-Mas, I will have cell phone access starting Christmas day, on a different cell phone. If you want to call me, please send an e-mail as the town I will be in has an internet cafe! Also, if you want my new snail mail address, please e-mail me for that, too. I can´t just give that out for the whole world! Mail sent to the old address will still get to me, just slower than it is now.
If you would like to send anything in the way of books or educational materials in general, please contact Gifts-in-Kind, gik@peacecorps.gov . I hear that they sometimes help out in paying for it to get here. But that´s all that PC can do, so keep on researching other ways to get the heavy stuff over here. Also, check out this web page for more info ...
http://peacecorps.gov/wws/correspond/handbook/educators.html
If you know of any schools who would like to get involved with me, please contact me right away, as now would be the best time to set up that relationship. Also, if you are interested in me writing a column for your publication, please send an e-mail as I need to clear these things before I can do them!
I hope everyone is having a wonderful holiday season, and please keep the e-mail and letters coming, as they mean more than you could imagine!
BTW, if you´re stuck in Ohio, you are going to have to visit. Mozambique has the most beautiful beaches any of us have seen, and our group has people who have gone to St. John, Costa Rica, etc. I´m not a huge beach person, but I´d be willing to spend a couple leave days in the sun ...
Love & Peace,
John
Speaking of X-Mas, I will have cell phone access starting Christmas day, on a different cell phone. If you want to call me, please send an e-mail as the town I will be in has an internet cafe! Also, if you want my new snail mail address, please e-mail me for that, too. I can´t just give that out for the whole world! Mail sent to the old address will still get to me, just slower than it is now.
If you would like to send anything in the way of books or educational materials in general, please contact Gifts-in-Kind, gik@peacecorps.gov . I hear that they sometimes help out in paying for it to get here. But that´s all that PC can do, so keep on researching other ways to get the heavy stuff over here. Also, check out this web page for more info ...
http://peacecorps.gov/wws/correspond/handbook/educators.html
If you know of any schools who would like to get involved with me, please contact me right away, as now would be the best time to set up that relationship. Also, if you are interested in me writing a column for your publication, please send an e-mail as I need to clear these things before I can do them!
I hope everyone is having a wonderful holiday season, and please keep the e-mail and letters coming, as they mean more than you could imagine!
BTW, if you´re stuck in Ohio, you are going to have to visit. Mozambique has the most beautiful beaches any of us have seen, and our group has people who have gone to St. John, Costa Rica, etc. I´m not a huge beach person, but I´d be willing to spend a couple leave days in the sun ...
Love & Peace,
John
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