Today was Environmental Day. Four new trees were planted in the front yard in commemoration, and a turma was assigned to take care of them. I hope it happens! I promised other turmas I would help start some gardens for them, too. Not quite sure how to start that, though. Hopefully, we'll see!
After realizing that people beg here in order to receive - expecting to receive, and not just trying as we do in the States - I've made it a policy to always try and give people what they ask for, starting very recently. I've been afraid in the past, but I think people's expectation is that I won't give them what they ask for, whereas a Mozambican would. So maybe if I just give it away, I'll get less requests to give things away, as they realize they're actually begging me and not just playing around. Plus, I can afford to give stuff away. It just requires planning. I really want to teach people how to fish, but I think they need to see that I'm willing to give the fish away in the first place...
And acting along those lines makes me feel better about going to neighbors and asking for simple things like using their water tap or rolador (for making coconut milk). But mainly the image keeps popping into my head of my student who asked for some bread on the street. I retorted by asking her for her bag, and with no hesitation or change of expression, I found an outstretched hand holding her bag...
The Canadians let me borrow a Zen poetry book from their recent acquisitions, a book of poems by Ryokan. One that jumped out at me:
If THERE is beauty, there must be ugliness.
If there is right, there must be wrong.
Wisdom and ignorance are complementary,
And illusion and enlightenment cannot be separated.
This is an old truth, don't think it was discovered recently.
'I want this, I want that'
Is nothing but foolishness.
I'll tell you a secret -
All things are impermanent!
So do memories count as things? Sometimes they seem permanent. Every time I see barbed wire, I see the time in day camp when I took what I thought was a shortcut into well-camouflaged barbed wire at full tilt. I still have the scar to prove it. And I can't look at any barbed wire without seeing that image in my head, however fleeting it is.
I went to the tailor today to get a couple things repaired, including a pair of pants that has in their front pockets, holes the size of my wallet. Not a good feature for a pocket. I've dealt with this for, well, a couple years now, by being creative with my pocket usage. It even got me in the habit of using back pockets all the time. Just because there was something romantic and fun about this particular imperfection. And I'm lazy.
But I think it was the hassle of actually FINDING a tailor, going to the tailor, leaving the clothes, returning to pay, and getting them home for something I could easily do myself (but would never actually take the time to do). Now that I'm here, it's no easier, but I have less stuff and less stuff to compensate with when the stuff I have breaks. You can make things last for a very long time here because of how cheap repair is. And ubiquitous. Cars, bikes, shoes and houses all live well past their expiration dates because of the buy new vs repair gap.
Speaking of something unrelated to the subject I want to write about, I translated for the ladies at the market today. Some South African men came in today, English being their second language. After helping them with their purchases, they said they needed a receipt, which doesn't happen too often at the central market here. Somehow, one of the women had an invoice book, but had no idea how to use it. It was devoid of carbon paper or much evidence of having been used, and she didn't really know how to write. So I ended up writing "Vegetables 200,000.00 Met" and told her to sign it.
Naturally, we had a good laugh afterwards.
Peace
John
Saturday, June 28, 2003
06/04/2003
Today was a hard day. The students refused to follow simple directions, then were completely undisciplined and disrespectful, because my teaching style is so different and language isn't what other professors have (well, duh!), so after class I went to the post office, which was closed, and to a nice quiet, dark area where I could sit and cry a little. Basically, the students don't make me feel human. There are exceptions, but on the whole, I feel like some emotionless space creature. I don't think they care to understand me and how I'm different.
But I put myself in this hole because unlike other professors, I came in treating the students as peers and not as apprentices who know nothing and can only learn what is taught in class. This seems to be the educational disease here, but it's in no way unique to Mozambique. Education. Pooh.
I often think about loved ones and the reason I came here (usually in that order) - to help people. I constantly re-evaluate if I'm helping people, and I think I am, but it's not as effective as it could be.
Peace
John
But I put myself in this hole because unlike other professors, I came in treating the students as peers and not as apprentices who know nothing and can only learn what is taught in class. This seems to be the educational disease here, but it's in no way unique to Mozambique. Education. Pooh.
I often think about loved ones and the reason I came here (usually in that order) - to help people. I constantly re-evaluate if I'm helping people, and I think I am, but it's not as effective as it could be.
Peace
John
06/03/2003
I've been doing a lot of correcting lately. A LOT. It takes an average of 2 hours to do one test for one class. And I have 8 classes, but I've been doing them all in time. And going to all of my classes, teaching full lessons. But that is often quite a challenge as the students want to get going early every day and aren't used to my 45-minute lessons.
It's funny how smells, even the briefest of whiffs, can send you off into another world. It feels like the past all comes rushing back when I smell something familiar or hear an American voice.
English classes are stalled at the moment and I'm trying to get a request to the District director written up.
I lent the chess set to Diamentino so he could practice and hopefully beat me on a regular basis.
The Canadians received 900 books in English, French and Portuguese from donors back home. I borrowed a few of the interesting ones (to me) including a history of Western philosophy, a couple poetry books, the beginning of the Dune series, a book on the American Revolution, and a couple language books. There will be no complaining about a lack of reading material.
Hopefully, Zach and I will take a road trip (bikes) into the matu (country) of our province, on the next full moon.
I should see the "Bike Maintenance" video this weekend that I helped make. It's funny by all accounts.
A student of mine didn't believe me that I could cook. But since I don't have a lot of time TO cook, I stole some traditional dish that Albertina made and offered up a sample as my own. Really, my student has no reason to believe me. But then she asked for what we ended up having for dinner tonight, as well, so I may end up lying twice (I did PARTICIPATE in making it this time, at least). Anything to bust up a stereotype.
Nimi and I will hopefully road trip (cars) out to Monica's site and party with her to break her house in.
I watched another professor's lesson today. She talked at the class for about 20 minutes, asking a couple questions, then dictated the notes for 10 minutes. This is a standard lesson here - and though our system is more developed and useful for the material we teach, it seems to me that there's something in this style I don't yet grasp. Because communication is largely oral, the power of information is huge. To insinuate that knowledge is anything but information, is to strike at the heart of tradition here. But it's not the fault of the teaching that these methods don't work. It's the material. Western knowledge is transmitted multi-dimensionally, because of tradition and resources. Knowledge here is traditionally spread uni-dimensionally, which makes for quite a stir when you try to teach on multiple levels. Just like the other way round. There's something romantically appealing about focusing on someone's train of thought and trying to emulate it. And so this is how learning is taught, by example. In the West, we teach learning by certain methods. When you introduce methods to example-based students, they look at the methods as examples and emulate the methods. It's not that kids don't learn here, they don't learn our way. So I think the goal of education here should be to broaden and deepen the educational system as it currently philosophically exists, and not blindly push our thoughts on education into the system. This is 100% harder than what we're currently doing, as it involves changing how you think.
Peace
John
It's funny how smells, even the briefest of whiffs, can send you off into another world. It feels like the past all comes rushing back when I smell something familiar or hear an American voice.
English classes are stalled at the moment and I'm trying to get a request to the District director written up.
I lent the chess set to Diamentino so he could practice and hopefully beat me on a regular basis.
The Canadians received 900 books in English, French and Portuguese from donors back home. I borrowed a few of the interesting ones (to me) including a history of Western philosophy, a couple poetry books, the beginning of the Dune series, a book on the American Revolution, and a couple language books. There will be no complaining about a lack of reading material.
Hopefully, Zach and I will take a road trip (bikes) into the matu (country) of our province, on the next full moon.
I should see the "Bike Maintenance" video this weekend that I helped make. It's funny by all accounts.
A student of mine didn't believe me that I could cook. But since I don't have a lot of time TO cook, I stole some traditional dish that Albertina made and offered up a sample as my own. Really, my student has no reason to believe me. But then she asked for what we ended up having for dinner tonight, as well, so I may end up lying twice (I did PARTICIPATE in making it this time, at least). Anything to bust up a stereotype.
Nimi and I will hopefully road trip (cars) out to Monica's site and party with her to break her house in.
I watched another professor's lesson today. She talked at the class for about 20 minutes, asking a couple questions, then dictated the notes for 10 minutes. This is a standard lesson here - and though our system is more developed and useful for the material we teach, it seems to me that there's something in this style I don't yet grasp. Because communication is largely oral, the power of information is huge. To insinuate that knowledge is anything but information, is to strike at the heart of tradition here. But it's not the fault of the teaching that these methods don't work. It's the material. Western knowledge is transmitted multi-dimensionally, because of tradition and resources. Knowledge here is traditionally spread uni-dimensionally, which makes for quite a stir when you try to teach on multiple levels. Just like the other way round. There's something romantically appealing about focusing on someone's train of thought and trying to emulate it. And so this is how learning is taught, by example. In the West, we teach learning by certain methods. When you introduce methods to example-based students, they look at the methods as examples and emulate the methods. It's not that kids don't learn here, they don't learn our way. So I think the goal of education here should be to broaden and deepen the educational system as it currently philosophically exists, and not blindly push our thoughts on education into the system. This is 100% harder than what we're currently doing, as it involves changing how you think.
Peace
John
Friday, June 27, 2003
06/02/2003
8 months!
Changana is getting better every day, so it seems, but the progress is going to be so much slower than Portuguese, because I'm not forced to use it as much and I can't just use cognates (but I can cheat and use Portuguese).
Nimi came into town today and we hung out for a bit. He bought $1.25 worth of oranges - one rice sack full. Incredible. And Dona Maria received a package from her son in the US today, with some US money I'll help her exchange. I think the money didn't look real to her, as Mozambican money at first didn't for me.
Peace
John
Changana is getting better every day, so it seems, but the progress is going to be so much slower than Portuguese, because I'm not forced to use it as much and I can't just use cognates (but I can cheat and use Portuguese).
Nimi came into town today and we hung out for a bit. He bought $1.25 worth of oranges - one rice sack full. Incredible. And Dona Maria received a package from her son in the US today, with some US money I'll help her exchange. I think the money didn't look real to her, as Mozambican money at first didn't for me.
Peace
John
06/01/2003
I went to Maputo this weekend. It was 4 hours down, starting at 6:30 AM. I walked to Shop-Rite (more on this), which took about an hour. Then I got myself to a hotel where other volunteers were, visited them and got ice cream, then went to the PC office and finally, just before sunset, got to the site where our host families are so I could eat dinner and spend the night.
It was fun spending some time with Bernardo, Antonio and the rest of the family, but it wasn't enough. The big change was that I know enough Changana now to have simple conversations with my host mom, Regina. Because of her lack of Portuguese, she now rattles things off to me in Changana. I catch less than 50% of it, but I know how to get the gist of what's going on.
Doing without electricity, running water or toilets is good for sleep, and I got the best night's sleep I've had in quite a while - about 10 hours! I just had to go 5 hours away to do it.
And because I was traveling so much, I'm tired and behind on work with a full day ahead of me. So I'll explain the Shop-Rite.
To the north of downtown, in the middle of nowhere, is by every appearance, a normal American shopping mall. As I walked up to it, dodging piles of fly-infested garbage and street vendors, I wasn't quite sure what was going on. This feeling lasted about the entire time.
For eight months now, I've been adjusting to a life devoid of any of the principles that go into a shopping mall. And here I was, dodging cars in a parking lot, staring at the chain stores in front of me. So I walked into the Shop-Rite and realized I could have been in any American supermarket. Subtly different, but there was nothing subtle about the dichotomy of this store set against Mozambique. I was a deer in headlights.
A worker had to stop me to tell me that I had to leave my backpack in front. I grabbed a handbasket and began going down every aisle, not quite sure what to expect. but it was all too familiar. The vacant expressions on people's faces, the fat children, the lack of people staring at me...and aisles upon aisles of stuff I didn't need but found tantalizingly useful. I was disgusted.
Going back to the US will be HARD!
Peace
John
It was fun spending some time with Bernardo, Antonio and the rest of the family, but it wasn't enough. The big change was that I know enough Changana now to have simple conversations with my host mom, Regina. Because of her lack of Portuguese, she now rattles things off to me in Changana. I catch less than 50% of it, but I know how to get the gist of what's going on.
Doing without electricity, running water or toilets is good for sleep, and I got the best night's sleep I've had in quite a while - about 10 hours! I just had to go 5 hours away to do it.
And because I was traveling so much, I'm tired and behind on work with a full day ahead of me. So I'll explain the Shop-Rite.
To the north of downtown, in the middle of nowhere, is by every appearance, a normal American shopping mall. As I walked up to it, dodging piles of fly-infested garbage and street vendors, I wasn't quite sure what was going on. This feeling lasted about the entire time.
For eight months now, I've been adjusting to a life devoid of any of the principles that go into a shopping mall. And here I was, dodging cars in a parking lot, staring at the chain stores in front of me. So I walked into the Shop-Rite and realized I could have been in any American supermarket. Subtly different, but there was nothing subtle about the dichotomy of this store set against Mozambique. I was a deer in headlights.
A worker had to stop me to tell me that I had to leave my backpack in front. I grabbed a handbasket and began going down every aisle, not quite sure what to expect. but it was all too familiar. The vacant expressions on people's faces, the fat children, the lack of people staring at me...and aisles upon aisles of stuff I didn't need but found tantalizingly useful. I was disgusted.
Going back to the US will be HARD!
Peace
John
05/27/2003
I've been trying to get my mind around the HIV/AIDS problem and education - in general - lately.
Why do I have so many discipline problems that relate directly to giving and making understood the information that students are paying to receive? Is it the American sickness of going to school for the diploma and not for the means? Or does it have to do with the fact that I am SO different, that my idea of education is so different, that the kids stop trying to make heads or tails of it?
I have a feeling the last part is the closest to the truth. I've revealed to some of my turmas now that I know some Changana, which immediately gets me more respect. Silence is easier to get, as long as they remember that I'm not just another white guy. And so maybe they're re-evaluating me, for the first time since I showed up with crappy Portuguese and unreasonable expectations. Maybe they're starting to see that I really care.
But I think some kids are still caught up in the messenger instead of the message. I could speak perfect Portuguese, but their mind is not on what I'm trying to say, but on how I say it. There was a notice to be read today, and after I read it, there was a concensus that it ws not well understood (though during it, my pronunciation was corrected on a word that meant they understood), so a student read it. She received a round of applause, mainly to spite me (yes, this is my least favorite turma), even though her recitation was almost exactly like mine - if not worse. I tried to not let it get to me, but it took the back route and is still slightly getting to me.
And this lack of digging deeper is not relegated just to my lessons. When almost any new information is received, the emphasis is on knowing the words, not an understanding of the concept. When I ask "What does that mean, in your own words?", I can see the smoke rising. There's a pause as the student actually THINKS (it's quite visible), then figures out whether they understood it or not. And they'll say nothing rather than say what they think is wrong or say they don't know. It seems fairly universal that there is a fear of physical violence for a wrong answer. I have to convince them "I don't know" IS acceptable.
And so since the emphasis in HIV/AIDS education is informing people, the same trap has been set between information and comprehension.
Peace
John
Why do I have so many discipline problems that relate directly to giving and making understood the information that students are paying to receive? Is it the American sickness of going to school for the diploma and not for the means? Or does it have to do with the fact that I am SO different, that my idea of education is so different, that the kids stop trying to make heads or tails of it?
I have a feeling the last part is the closest to the truth. I've revealed to some of my turmas now that I know some Changana, which immediately gets me more respect. Silence is easier to get, as long as they remember that I'm not just another white guy. And so maybe they're re-evaluating me, for the first time since I showed up with crappy Portuguese and unreasonable expectations. Maybe they're starting to see that I really care.
But I think some kids are still caught up in the messenger instead of the message. I could speak perfect Portuguese, but their mind is not on what I'm trying to say, but on how I say it. There was a notice to be read today, and after I read it, there was a concensus that it ws not well understood (though during it, my pronunciation was corrected on a word that meant they understood), so a student read it. She received a round of applause, mainly to spite me (yes, this is my least favorite turma), even though her recitation was almost exactly like mine - if not worse. I tried to not let it get to me, but it took the back route and is still slightly getting to me.
And this lack of digging deeper is not relegated just to my lessons. When almost any new information is received, the emphasis is on knowing the words, not an understanding of the concept. When I ask "What does that mean, in your own words?", I can see the smoke rising. There's a pause as the student actually THINKS (it's quite visible), then figures out whether they understood it or not. And they'll say nothing rather than say what they think is wrong or say they don't know. It seems fairly universal that there is a fear of physical violence for a wrong answer. I have to convince them "I don't know" IS acceptable.
And so since the emphasis in HIV/AIDS education is informing people, the same trap has been set between information and comprehension.
Peace
John
Thursday, June 26, 2003
05/26/2003
6:30 Will myself out of bed. Stretch.
6:45 Start working out.
7:30 "Shower" and wash dishes
8:00 Eat breakfast
8:30 Correct papers
9:00 Go out to run errands
9:40 Finish up with Internet
9:45 Get to market and chat for a bit, buying several kilos of food.
10:15 Get face time with Primary School Director who is paranoid about my intentions of giving FREE English classes. Practically get kicked out.
10:30 See former English students of mine, tell them what's going on.
10:40 See Diamentino's dad selling oranges. Buy oranges. Buy 3 Met (9 oranges) and pay with a 100 Met bill.
11:00 Arrive at home, drop groceries off to do second run.
11:15 Get eggs, sugar and delicious Lemon Cream crackers.
11:20 Receive a Changana lesson at the Post Office and send a letter.
11:30 Grab bread.
11:40 Arrive home, again. Make leftovers for lunch.
12:00 Get ready for school.
12:20 Arrive at school, prepare for lessons.
12:40 Sing Mozambican national anthem.
12:45 First two classes with my youngest turma. They're very well behaved, only have to chew out Dinho.
14:20 Third class of the day, with my oldest turma. They're a handful today, but at least participating.
15:10 Trade schedules with fellow professor so we can watch each other's classes.
15:30 Go home to get water and pee. Have a small snack and talk with Diamentino.
16:00 Arrive back at school. Meet with Laurenco and talk shop for a while.
16:20 Last two classes of the day. have apathy problems, as usual, with this turma. Give them the "I don't make money for doing this" speech and the "If you only come to class for the notes, why come?" speech.
17:00 Fight breaks out in back of room. One student holds back aggressor, I hold back the other kid and drag him out of the room. "Kid" meaning about my age.
17:20 After "detaining" the aggressor in the room and giving him time to cool down, I send him home. Mark my first red faltas (highest discipline possible) in the book for both kids.
17:50 After getting shaken up over the fight and apathy of the class, I cut the lesson 5 minutes short to the delight of the students.
17:55 Sit alone in the room, decompressing.
18:05 Arrive at hime, start an eggplant Parmesan without the cheese.
20:15 Eat the eggplant Parmesan with one of my students who came by asking about girl trouble. Advice meager.
20:30 Shoo the kids away who watched the whole cooking process, thinking I was cooking something else.
20:35 Clean.
21:00 Start correcting papers and researching questions kids asked me in class.
21:50 Get call from Eric! Whoo!
22:20 Return to correcting papers.
23:30 Enter grades into gradebook.
23:45 Write in journal.
0:00 Bed.
Peace
John
6:45 Start working out.
7:30 "Shower" and wash dishes
8:00 Eat breakfast
8:30 Correct papers
9:00 Go out to run errands
9:40 Finish up with Internet
9:45 Get to market and chat for a bit, buying several kilos of food.
10:15 Get face time with Primary School Director who is paranoid about my intentions of giving FREE English classes. Practically get kicked out.
10:30 See former English students of mine, tell them what's going on.
10:40 See Diamentino's dad selling oranges. Buy oranges. Buy 3 Met (9 oranges) and pay with a 100 Met bill.
11:00 Arrive at home, drop groceries off to do second run.
11:15 Get eggs, sugar and delicious Lemon Cream crackers.
11:20 Receive a Changana lesson at the Post Office and send a letter.
11:30 Grab bread.
11:40 Arrive home, again. Make leftovers for lunch.
12:00 Get ready for school.
12:20 Arrive at school, prepare for lessons.
12:40 Sing Mozambican national anthem.
12:45 First two classes with my youngest turma. They're very well behaved, only have to chew out Dinho.
14:20 Third class of the day, with my oldest turma. They're a handful today, but at least participating.
15:10 Trade schedules with fellow professor so we can watch each other's classes.
15:30 Go home to get water and pee. Have a small snack and talk with Diamentino.
16:00 Arrive back at school. Meet with Laurenco and talk shop for a while.
16:20 Last two classes of the day. have apathy problems, as usual, with this turma. Give them the "I don't make money for doing this" speech and the "If you only come to class for the notes, why come?" speech.
17:00 Fight breaks out in back of room. One student holds back aggressor, I hold back the other kid and drag him out of the room. "Kid" meaning about my age.
17:20 After "detaining" the aggressor in the room and giving him time to cool down, I send him home. Mark my first red faltas (highest discipline possible) in the book for both kids.
17:50 After getting shaken up over the fight and apathy of the class, I cut the lesson 5 minutes short to the delight of the students.
17:55 Sit alone in the room, decompressing.
18:05 Arrive at hime, start an eggplant Parmesan without the cheese.
20:15 Eat the eggplant Parmesan with one of my students who came by asking about girl trouble. Advice meager.
20:30 Shoo the kids away who watched the whole cooking process, thinking I was cooking something else.
20:35 Clean.
21:00 Start correcting papers and researching questions kids asked me in class.
21:50 Get call from Eric! Whoo!
22:20 Return to correcting papers.
23:30 Enter grades into gradebook.
23:45 Write in journal.
0:00 Bed.
Peace
John
05/25/2003
Waiting for a ride from Nimi's site to my own after spending the weekend there, this entry could be short!
Nimi's site is quite in the middle of nowhere, especially for being only an hour out of my city. It is an African village closer to what my original expectations were after training. Using a latrine, going to the market (just got a false alarm...) to find next to no produce, lighting lamps at night and seeing a very new, bright-faced school are all things I thought would be part of my new life, but whether good or bad I don't know.
And Nimi sees different things, different suffering than I do. He sees funerals 3 or 4 times a day because of AIDS. He hears of civil violence unheard of in the States. I'm really quite sheltered from most of that, and it almost feels like I'm not getting the full experience.
Nimi has organized a performance group from Maputo to come to his school, and we saw (I got picked up..where was I?) them perform - they're very good, clear and motivated. We went out for drinks afterwards and had a great time discussing world politics, African culture and stale crackers. Hopefully, I'll be able to get the same thing at my school, though I imagine the experience would be completely different.
I was able to hold my own in a quite complex discussion of democracy in Portuguese, and its various implementations. It helped that this group was from Maputo, where Portuguese is more native and people understand heavier accents more easily.
I'm currently reading "Watership Down". Dated, but still relevant.
Peace
John
Nimi's site is quite in the middle of nowhere, especially for being only an hour out of my city. It is an African village closer to what my original expectations were after training. Using a latrine, going to the market (just got a false alarm...) to find next to no produce, lighting lamps at night and seeing a very new, bright-faced school are all things I thought would be part of my new life, but whether good or bad I don't know.
And Nimi sees different things, different suffering than I do. He sees funerals 3 or 4 times a day because of AIDS. He hears of civil violence unheard of in the States. I'm really quite sheltered from most of that, and it almost feels like I'm not getting the full experience.
Nimi has organized a performance group from Maputo to come to his school, and we saw (I got picked up..where was I?) them perform - they're very good, clear and motivated. We went out for drinks afterwards and had a great time discussing world politics, African culture and stale crackers. Hopefully, I'll be able to get the same thing at my school, though I imagine the experience would be completely different.
I was able to hold my own in a quite complex discussion of democracy in Portuguese, and its various implementations. It helped that this group was from Maputo, where Portuguese is more native and people understand heavier accents more easily.
I'm currently reading "Watership Down". Dated, but still relevant.
Peace
John
05/23/2003
It's occurred to me that I write only a fraction of the thoughts and events that happen every day. Even when I write for 8 or 9 pages. I've only touched on what happens in a single day here. I could live a year in the States and not find one day that rivals "average" here.
For one of my lessons, I wanted to demonstrate a tree stump and the rings that form every year. Unfortunately, there were none around school, and walking with one of my students, he suggested I try cutting a branch off a tree. I didn't want to be too destructive, so I found a mostly dead branch on a tree just outside our house. I asked a couple neighbors if they had a saw, but unfortunately they didn't. Five minutes later, a kid I asked comes back and says he found a saw, so I walk with him to another house, where a woman is cooking. She hands me a saw, very sheepishly - which I've come to recognize as shyness and not reluctance - I thank her and ask the kid if he wants to help. He grins and agrees wholeheartedly. I jump into the tree, have him hand me the saw, and just as we're deciding what to do, he arrives.
The tree-trimmer guy!
I hadn't seen him for a couple weeks, which was the usual interval. But I didn't know where he lived, so though he was my first consideration, I had no idea how to contact him. I forgot his name, too. But here he was, undoubtedly hearing that I was fidgeting around with a saw in a tree.
Unfortunately, he speaks as much Portuguese as I speak Changana. Which is to say, our conversations are comical. He's a nice young guy and is always gracious, even when we don't have work for him. But the job was there for the taking this time.
I had the kid translate what I wanted and came away only 5 Met (20 cents) poorer for a nice specimen.
I realized it needed some sanding, but had forgotten to run to Home Depot. Hehe... The "Home Depot" here is called Kawena. They have huge warehouses, so the first time I approached one, I got very optimistic. Though I was told they only have a dozen items, I was sure that was an exaggeration.
Nope. I walked in and sure enough, there were 12 items in front of me, backed by tons and tons of the same thing, over and over again.
Since then, I've learned to go to the market. If it's not there, Mozambique doesn't have it. Sure enough, a friend helped me and guided me to some mid-coarse sandpaper. I arrived at home a few conversations later, with enough time to sand down the wood, eat lunch, and shower before class.
So now you have a brief overview of two hours of my day, from the "what I did" perspective. Wow. I'm really doing this, this big adventure.
Peace
John
For one of my lessons, I wanted to demonstrate a tree stump and the rings that form every year. Unfortunately, there were none around school, and walking with one of my students, he suggested I try cutting a branch off a tree. I didn't want to be too destructive, so I found a mostly dead branch on a tree just outside our house. I asked a couple neighbors if they had a saw, but unfortunately they didn't. Five minutes later, a kid I asked comes back and says he found a saw, so I walk with him to another house, where a woman is cooking. She hands me a saw, very sheepishly - which I've come to recognize as shyness and not reluctance - I thank her and ask the kid if he wants to help. He grins and agrees wholeheartedly. I jump into the tree, have him hand me the saw, and just as we're deciding what to do, he arrives.
The tree-trimmer guy!
I hadn't seen him for a couple weeks, which was the usual interval. But I didn't know where he lived, so though he was my first consideration, I had no idea how to contact him. I forgot his name, too. But here he was, undoubtedly hearing that I was fidgeting around with a saw in a tree.
Unfortunately, he speaks as much Portuguese as I speak Changana. Which is to say, our conversations are comical. He's a nice young guy and is always gracious, even when we don't have work for him. But the job was there for the taking this time.
I had the kid translate what I wanted and came away only 5 Met (20 cents) poorer for a nice specimen.
I realized it needed some sanding, but had forgotten to run to Home Depot. Hehe... The "Home Depot" here is called Kawena. They have huge warehouses, so the first time I approached one, I got very optimistic. Though I was told they only have a dozen items, I was sure that was an exaggeration.
Nope. I walked in and sure enough, there were 12 items in front of me, backed by tons and tons of the same thing, over and over again.
Since then, I've learned to go to the market. If it's not there, Mozambique doesn't have it. Sure enough, a friend helped me and guided me to some mid-coarse sandpaper. I arrived at home a few conversations later, with enough time to sand down the wood, eat lunch, and shower before class.
So now you have a brief overview of two hours of my day, from the "what I did" perspective. Wow. I'm really doing this, this big adventure.
Peace
John
05/22/2003
Pretty good school day. Tried a new HIV/AIDS idea - I allowed the students to write on the board all of their questions about HIV/AIDS. I got 10 good questions, just from one class. I think it worked because it wasn't a one-by-one sequence of questions where the students get bored.
My youngest class was a pain in the ass, though. They were extremely hyper, and though they're smart, they're also young...and incredibly immature (as you would expect). I kept them in silence for 5 minutes straight at the beginning of class, which helped a little.
I really can't get enough of teaching. The look on a kid's face when they get it is incredible.
Peace
John
My youngest class was a pain in the ass, though. They were extremely hyper, and though they're smart, they're also young...and incredibly immature (as you would expect). I kept them in silence for 5 minutes straight at the beginning of class, which helped a little.
I really can't get enough of teaching. The look on a kid's face when they get it is incredible.
Peace
John
06/26/2003
Here is a link to photos from John (thanks to his former coworkers - thanks Francis! - at Dirt Devil). Enjoy!
http://home.cwru.edu/~jad9/africa/photos_06_2003.html
http://home.cwru.edu/~jad9/africa/photos_06_2003.html
Sunday, June 08, 2003
5/18/2003
You'd think by now I'd be over the whole 2+ year thing. I think I might have even said that before.
I wrote a lot - elsewhere - about trying to find truth every day in every moment. It's an elusive thing because truth is always there, but it's not necessarily what we want or like. And so we cover it up with all sorts of excuses like "I'm tired" and "I'm busy" and "But...", etc. And then the truth becomes harder and harder to find because there is an automatic defense mechanism to avoid admitting inadequacy, error, lack of desire, vanity or greed. We want to appear good to others - and if not that, at least to ourselves.
Though for some, finding the truth may be difficult, the real challenge lies in accepting it unconditionally.
I miss people a ton.
Peace
John
I wrote a lot - elsewhere - about trying to find truth every day in every moment. It's an elusive thing because truth is always there, but it's not necessarily what we want or like. And so we cover it up with all sorts of excuses like "I'm tired" and "I'm busy" and "But...", etc. And then the truth becomes harder and harder to find because there is an automatic defense mechanism to avoid admitting inadequacy, error, lack of desire, vanity or greed. We want to appear good to others - and if not that, at least to ourselves.
Though for some, finding the truth may be difficult, the real challenge lies in accepting it unconditionally.
I miss people a ton.
Peace
John
5/17/2003
It seems that most Peace Corps volunteers, at least the ambitious ones, suffer very similar fates. And this goes for NGOs involved in open-ended development work, too. I'm pretty sure, from all I've been told and all I've experienced, that it has to do with the amount of overlap between the needs of a community and the abilities of the development worker. Typically, this overlap is much smaller than either the volunteer or community anticipates or wishes it to be.
You can imagine the two as dishes - one dish for the needs of the community and one dish for the abilities of the worker. It seems like the overlap is where the rims would just barely touch, a small percentage of all the projects you could undertake.
But the rest of the dishes are very tempting - in it are all those little things like building a playground, giving out food, installing computer centers, building a new school, etc. OK, so those aren't very small things. But what the community needs is always great, and what the newcomer sees first are the things they can't necessarily do. And the community has a list of things they want done, and will ask for these first, regardless of the volunteer's abilities. Likewise, a volunteer will come in with preconceived notions of how they can help and the community will assume that anyone coming in will be capable of certain things.
So inevitably there is a long period of time where both communities try to feel out the overlap between the dishes.
I'm still in that phase, but I took the approach that I was going to keep on throwing darts in the dark until I hit things that were in that overlap. Incredibly enough, as I've seen in stepping back from this experience and from "development" in college, the same things happen. You try something, momentum builds, and you reach a critical juncture with tough decisions. If you make the right decisions in terms of sustainability, needs of the community, and ability of the people involved to stay motivated, then the project will continue. And abroad, as it is here, you're only successful a vast minority of the time.
So when people warned me that "Most of the things you try will fail", I fully expected it. And if most of the things you try aren't failing, then you're not trying hard enough.
Of course, this is still a very Western view, but development and outside assistance is a very Western idea. Africa's strength is the idea of community. We're in this community for two years and then - poof - the white guy's gone. So even if we ARE part of the community, our fates are completely different and we are never one OF the community. So within the overlap of the dishes is a very important factor that has to do with not ever being one OF the community. Excessive skepticism, cultural divides and motivation are all stumbling blocks even when a good project is found.
And, fully expecting this, I hope to accomplish one significant thing before I leave, putting everything I can into it. I just have no idea what that is yet!
I walked here tonight after watching a movie, eating apple pie and speaking English for quite a while - among a few Mozambicans, at least. Walking alone, I found it hard to believe I was in Africa. All the signs were there - the road, the houses, the starfields. But it felt like home. I tried picturing myself on a map of the world - in the heart of humanity. It just didn't seem real. I still have this antiquated version of "Africa" stuck in my head, discordant with what I see and live every day. I don't have to translate all the Portuguese I hear or speak every day, and people are starting to respect and understand me.
I'm beginning to see why people find it hard to leave, and it's nothing magical. It's simply home. And since I was about 12, I haven't lived in the same room for more than a year - so this reality that I'll be here for a while is just settling in. (NOTE FROM MOM --- JOHN WOULD SPEND HALF THE WEEK AT HIS FATHER'S AND THE OTHER HALF AT MY HOUSE. NO, WE DIDN'T MOVE AROUND -- HE DID.) But this doesn't make me miss people any less. If home is where the heart is, I'm still in the US. But my hat is here and so I have to keep my mind in Africa as well.
So why did I come here? I get asked that question, directly and indirectly, every day. Someone mentions America and how nice it is, someone else mentions how poor Mozambique is. But they don't understand the very thing I'm still trying to figure out. Yeah, I came to help people, because I know I'm talented in ways that can benefit others and I'm willing to volunteer these talents. But why did I make such a capricious decision to join Peace Corps and blindly follow where this path took me? And so can it really be asked "Why did I come here?" if all I did was leave myself to someone else's hand? I didn't come here - I left America because I felt like I wasn't doing anything for people there. Coming HERE was just luck.
And so people here see me coming, and I see me leaving. It makes sense why this question is so confusing. I'm arrogant enough to think I can help anyone and they're cynical enough to think that the privileged would never want to live below that level. So really, as I'm realizing I can't help everyone, they see why I'm here.
Peace
John
You can imagine the two as dishes - one dish for the needs of the community and one dish for the abilities of the worker. It seems like the overlap is where the rims would just barely touch, a small percentage of all the projects you could undertake.
But the rest of the dishes are very tempting - in it are all those little things like building a playground, giving out food, installing computer centers, building a new school, etc. OK, so those aren't very small things. But what the community needs is always great, and what the newcomer sees first are the things they can't necessarily do. And the community has a list of things they want done, and will ask for these first, regardless of the volunteer's abilities. Likewise, a volunteer will come in with preconceived notions of how they can help and the community will assume that anyone coming in will be capable of certain things.
So inevitably there is a long period of time where both communities try to feel out the overlap between the dishes.
I'm still in that phase, but I took the approach that I was going to keep on throwing darts in the dark until I hit things that were in that overlap. Incredibly enough, as I've seen in stepping back from this experience and from "development" in college, the same things happen. You try something, momentum builds, and you reach a critical juncture with tough decisions. If you make the right decisions in terms of sustainability, needs of the community, and ability of the people involved to stay motivated, then the project will continue. And abroad, as it is here, you're only successful a vast minority of the time.
So when people warned me that "Most of the things you try will fail", I fully expected it. And if most of the things you try aren't failing, then you're not trying hard enough.
Of course, this is still a very Western view, but development and outside assistance is a very Western idea. Africa's strength is the idea of community. We're in this community for two years and then - poof - the white guy's gone. So even if we ARE part of the community, our fates are completely different and we are never one OF the community. So within the overlap of the dishes is a very important factor that has to do with not ever being one OF the community. Excessive skepticism, cultural divides and motivation are all stumbling blocks even when a good project is found.
And, fully expecting this, I hope to accomplish one significant thing before I leave, putting everything I can into it. I just have no idea what that is yet!
I walked here tonight after watching a movie, eating apple pie and speaking English for quite a while - among a few Mozambicans, at least. Walking alone, I found it hard to believe I was in Africa. All the signs were there - the road, the houses, the starfields. But it felt like home. I tried picturing myself on a map of the world - in the heart of humanity. It just didn't seem real. I still have this antiquated version of "Africa" stuck in my head, discordant with what I see and live every day. I don't have to translate all the Portuguese I hear or speak every day, and people are starting to respect and understand me.
I'm beginning to see why people find it hard to leave, and it's nothing magical. It's simply home. And since I was about 12, I haven't lived in the same room for more than a year - so this reality that I'll be here for a while is just settling in. (NOTE FROM MOM --- JOHN WOULD SPEND HALF THE WEEK AT HIS FATHER'S AND THE OTHER HALF AT MY HOUSE. NO, WE DIDN'T MOVE AROUND -- HE DID.) But this doesn't make me miss people any less. If home is where the heart is, I'm still in the US. But my hat is here and so I have to keep my mind in Africa as well.
So why did I come here? I get asked that question, directly and indirectly, every day. Someone mentions America and how nice it is, someone else mentions how poor Mozambique is. But they don't understand the very thing I'm still trying to figure out. Yeah, I came to help people, because I know I'm talented in ways that can benefit others and I'm willing to volunteer these talents. But why did I make such a capricious decision to join Peace Corps and blindly follow where this path took me? And so can it really be asked "Why did I come here?" if all I did was leave myself to someone else's hand? I didn't come here - I left America because I felt like I wasn't doing anything for people there. Coming HERE was just luck.
And so people here see me coming, and I see me leaving. It makes sense why this question is so confusing. I'm arrogant enough to think I can help anyone and they're cynical enough to think that the privileged would never want to live below that level. So really, as I'm realizing I can't help everyone, they see why I'm here.
Peace
John
5/16/2003
My latest lesson at school has been a sort of field trip - I bring some of the students around to different plants in order to draw the different stalk structures and bring these drawings back to the classroom. Expectedly, I get strange looks from other professors and the students are wildly enthusiastic about "strolling" with a professor during class time. So to say that learning is going on is an exaggeration - my hope is that because of the novelty of the situation, they'll attach anything they saw or heard to that strange experience and it will be remembered because of that.
It's been eight months since I left Cleveland. I really can't believe how much has happened and how much I've done in these eight months. And so what do I do these 19 months I have left? Maybe I should stop being so apprehensive about being here for so long and realize that I can get some incredible things done.
Peace
John
It's been eight months since I left Cleveland. I really can't believe how much has happened and how much I've done in these eight months. And so what do I do these 19 months I have left? Maybe I should stop being so apprehensive about being here for so long and realize that I can get some incredible things done.
Peace
John
5/15/2003
"U passile ou nao?"
I heard this on my way back from the postoffice, carrying a package for Blake that had accidentally been sent to Australia on its way here. Makes me wonder where the other stuff I get months later has been.
Anway. The above is a wonderful mixture of Portuguese and Changana but speaks to one of the major problems that I'm confronted with every day. People here don't speak "Portuguese", but a Portuguese translation of their Changana, which becomes more grammatically similar to Portuguese the more education they receive. What makes this frustrating for a foreigner is that they haven't learned how to think in a different way, just use different words for the same thoughts. And so even if I spoke perfect Portuguese (kids can understand for the most part the WORDS I'm saying, but get caught up in the meaning), it wouldn't make sense 50% of the time. What worsens matters is that if I'm trying to explain something, I slip into English Portuguese - arranging a sentence as I would in English. I usually end up saying it again in a different order, more amenable to the verb-led, noun-dominated structure of Bantu languages. And then I have to watch out because my vocabulary is huge, due to all the Latin-English cognates. It's too easy to make up perfectly correct Portuguese that the students won't understand.
And then there's the problem of creep. Portuguese creeps into Changana and vice-versa. Words that the Changana people never had to have before the Portuguese arrived, use borrowed words: Xikolers (school = escola [Portuguese]); mapao (bread = pao); and also from English: wache (watch), xipun (spoon), mova (car), buku (book), viki (week). Asking Albertina today what she was doing (she was reading), she said "ni lera buku", or "I'm reading a book". Ler is Portuguese for "to read", so I asked if she knew the Changana, but she didn't. So included in this creep are basic words which are simply easier to say in Portuguese.
And it goes the opposite way, too. When someone wants to be expressive, they resort to their mother tongue. So the Portuguese here suffers a tremendous blow when dealing with colloquial conversation. A native Portuguese speaker would have a tough time deciphering some informal conversations here. So little by little, it seems that a convergence is taking place, whereby a creole may emerge in the cities that isn't one language or the other.
This could be stemmed by the introduction of local language education in the primary schools next year. If a student knows grammatical concepts in their own language, then they'll be able to obtain learning skills for mastering other languages. Or so is the hope.
So I owe an explanation of the opening phrase. "U" is Changana, the 2nd person singular conjugation of the state of being form which requires an object (in this case, the object would be understood as the affirmative statement), essentially, "You are", "You had", "You did", "You were", etc., depending on the verb accompanying it. n this case, "passile", which is the past tense of "ku passa" borrowed from the Portuguese "passar", "to pass". The conjunctival clause at the end "ou nao" is Portuguese for "or not". So this means "Did you pass or not?", but it takes two languages to understand that.
Really, it comes down to what's easier to say. Conjugating verbs in Changana is ridiculously easy compared with Portuguese, so verbs get stolen all the time, when they're shorter and easier to say. Conjunctions are also short and clear, so "but", "or", "and", "so", etc., are almost exclusively Portuguese.
What makes this phenomenon truly interesting is that many city speakers are becoming unable to communicate with country speakers as they have lost much of the basic words. So in the city, they aren't really speaking Changana anymore - and when speaking Portuguese, it's not really Portuguese either. El pa!
Peace
John
I heard this on my way back from the postoffice, carrying a package for Blake that had accidentally been sent to Australia on its way here. Makes me wonder where the other stuff I get months later has been.
Anway. The above is a wonderful mixture of Portuguese and Changana but speaks to one of the major problems that I'm confronted with every day. People here don't speak "Portuguese", but a Portuguese translation of their Changana, which becomes more grammatically similar to Portuguese the more education they receive. What makes this frustrating for a foreigner is that they haven't learned how to think in a different way, just use different words for the same thoughts. And so even if I spoke perfect Portuguese (kids can understand for the most part the WORDS I'm saying, but get caught up in the meaning), it wouldn't make sense 50% of the time. What worsens matters is that if I'm trying to explain something, I slip into English Portuguese - arranging a sentence as I would in English. I usually end up saying it again in a different order, more amenable to the verb-led, noun-dominated structure of Bantu languages. And then I have to watch out because my vocabulary is huge, due to all the Latin-English cognates. It's too easy to make up perfectly correct Portuguese that the students won't understand.
And then there's the problem of creep. Portuguese creeps into Changana and vice-versa. Words that the Changana people never had to have before the Portuguese arrived, use borrowed words: Xikolers (school = escola [Portuguese]); mapao (bread = pao); and also from English: wache (watch), xipun (spoon), mova (car), buku (book), viki (week). Asking Albertina today what she was doing (she was reading), she said "ni lera buku", or "I'm reading a book". Ler is Portuguese for "to read", so I asked if she knew the Changana, but she didn't. So included in this creep are basic words which are simply easier to say in Portuguese.
And it goes the opposite way, too. When someone wants to be expressive, they resort to their mother tongue. So the Portuguese here suffers a tremendous blow when dealing with colloquial conversation. A native Portuguese speaker would have a tough time deciphering some informal conversations here. So little by little, it seems that a convergence is taking place, whereby a creole may emerge in the cities that isn't one language or the other.
This could be stemmed by the introduction of local language education in the primary schools next year. If a student knows grammatical concepts in their own language, then they'll be able to obtain learning skills for mastering other languages. Or so is the hope.
So I owe an explanation of the opening phrase. "U" is Changana, the 2nd person singular conjugation of the state of being form which requires an object (in this case, the object would be understood as the affirmative statement), essentially, "You are", "You had", "You did", "You were", etc., depending on the verb accompanying it. n this case, "passile", which is the past tense of "ku passa" borrowed from the Portuguese "passar", "to pass". The conjunctival clause at the end "ou nao" is Portuguese for "or not". So this means "Did you pass or not?", but it takes two languages to understand that.
Really, it comes down to what's easier to say. Conjugating verbs in Changana is ridiculously easy compared with Portuguese, so verbs get stolen all the time, when they're shorter and easier to say. Conjunctions are also short and clear, so "but", "or", "and", "so", etc., are almost exclusively Portuguese.
What makes this phenomenon truly interesting is that many city speakers are becoming unable to communicate with country speakers as they have lost much of the basic words. So in the city, they aren't really speaking Changana anymore - and when speaking Portuguese, it's not really Portuguese either. El pa!
Peace
John
5/14/2003
The past couple days have been good teaching days. Granted, I've been giving tests so that I don't have to deal with typical classroom BS, but they've still been going well. I even had a little field trip today to investigate stems of plants and identify them.
Had another English class today, and I really had a ton of energy for it. Charles and I tag-teamed because was only one class, andhe did great in his first time teaching an English class. We're realizing more and more that Portuguese is the language of the educated, and if you haven't been in school, you quite often don't speak it. By the time this class is over, students could very well be speaking better English than Portuguese. Which is all very strange to me right now, as I continue to struggle with some topics of conversation...
Peace
John
Had another English class today, and I really had a ton of energy for it. Charles and I tag-teamed because was only one class, andhe did great in his first time teaching an English class. We're realizing more and more that Portuguese is the language of the educated, and if you haven't been in school, you quite often don't speak it. By the time this class is over, students could very well be speaking better English than Portuguese. Which is all very strange to me right now, as I continue to struggle with some topics of conversation...
Peace
John
Saturday, June 07, 2003
5/01/2003
Today was a holiday. I took pictures of a march. I discovered several new things about Changana. I played Ultimate with the local boys. They're REALLY good.
Some days just poop me out. What a weird, idiomatic expression.
Peace
John
Some days just poop me out. What a weird, idiomatic expression.
Peace
John
4/30/2003
Never try to give lessons when tired. You may think you're doing well, but you're boring the kids.
Incredible progress is being made in teaching English at night. We have a room at the primary school 3 times a week, and we're being pushed to start immediately! Regardless of how it works out, it should be fun...
My mom is coming to visit for 2 weeks on October 28th - it should be quite the experience. I can't imagine any more how this would be for new eyes, especially with language barrier.
I've been thinking too much today, and I miss people too much as well. It's a bad combination.
Peace
John
Incredible progress is being made in teaching English at night. We have a room at the primary school 3 times a week, and we're being pushed to start immediately! Regardless of how it works out, it should be fun...
My mom is coming to visit for 2 weeks on October 28th - it should be quite the experience. I can't imagine any more how this would be for new eyes, especially with language barrier.
I've been thinking too much today, and I miss people too much as well. It's a bad combination.
Peace
John
4/29/2003
The challenge of HIV/AIDS education is pretty daunting, in sub-Saharan Africa. This is an area of the world where people have few true pleasures, though they find happiness in doing most anything. One of the mainstays of fun, however, is sex.
When you look at African history, it's easy to see that Europeans controlled and debilitated the region up to about 30 years ago. Civil wars, some of which are still raging, spring up where there was a power vacuum. People around here know suffering all too well, and are wont to hold onto everything good and free, like sex.
And now comes HIV/AIDS. Many believe that the virus originated in the same general area that the colonizers came from. So then these same people, who have disrespected the land and possibly brought this virus over in the first place, are saying to radically change sexual habits in order to avoid the disease? I would be skeptical in their situation, but it's amazing how much objectivity and optimism truly exists here. However, this is still in the back of peoples' minds.
I had my students get plants with the roots still attached for class today. One of my students got a fairly mature tomato plant. She didn't seem to care that she'd killed several tomatoes.
I've been very busy today. I like this.
Peace
John
When you look at African history, it's easy to see that Europeans controlled and debilitated the region up to about 30 years ago. Civil wars, some of which are still raging, spring up where there was a power vacuum. People around here know suffering all too well, and are wont to hold onto everything good and free, like sex.
And now comes HIV/AIDS. Many believe that the virus originated in the same general area that the colonizers came from. So then these same people, who have disrespected the land and possibly brought this virus over in the first place, are saying to radically change sexual habits in order to avoid the disease? I would be skeptical in their situation, but it's amazing how much objectivity and optimism truly exists here. However, this is still in the back of peoples' minds.
I had my students get plants with the roots still attached for class today. One of my students got a fairly mature tomato plant. She didn't seem to care that she'd killed several tomatoes.
I've been very busy today. I like this.
Peace
John
4/28/2003
As I was walking back from the bakery today, I saw the woman who manages the bank. She was driving her 2002 VW Jetta, signaling her left turn while talking on her cellphone. No less than 10 feet away, a barefoot woman was cooking the last of her corn meal in a reed-walled kitchen over a charcoal fire. What shocks me about living here is not the high amount of poverty but these rare cases of opulence. There's this part of me that wants to find some way to even everything out in my city. Then in my province, then country...but I know it's the wrong way to think about things. Just like HIV/AIDS education, you have to start with behavior. And not necessarily behavior of people here, who are in many cases dependent on handouts because so much is given, and not earned by the community.
Often, small children will be begging you for money on city streets. In this culture, when you are asked for something, and you have it, it's expected that you will part with it. It's survival. But it's only survival when you're a part of the society. So normally a stranger wouldn't be asked for handouts, but is has become easy money.
However, the thought process isn't the same as begging in the States. In the US, a beggar looks at themselves as a victim of a very loosely-knit society and preys upon guilt. Here, a beggar opens up their definition of a member of their society to be defined as all foreigners. And since they need food and money, they'll go ahead and ask. But this goes both ways. If you want, you can go ahead and ask them for something instead, which they feel obliged (and in many cases, more than happy) to give.
Other people told me about this happening, but I didn't believe it. So on the streets of Maputo, I asked a young boy who was asking for money to give ME some money. He did. And I had a very hard time giving it back, as he was happy to leave the money with me.
It's like walking into an elevator where everyone is turned to face the back. The natural inclination is to face the back as well because the people around you are doing it (and are in some way succeeding at a given task). But when someone tells everyone to turn around, you might be the only one who has no reason NOT to. Your only motivation was conformity, but the result looked like you were motivated the same way as everyone else. They don't know why they beg, but they know it works.
For my extra English classes, I may end up teaching at the nearby primary school. They would be free of charge, at least 2 if not 4 times a week, and a refreshing change from Biology. I would look to teach them in a combination of Portuguese and Changana.
This first day back teaching was a good day, because my Portuguese was feeling great. However, very few students were around today, so I couldn't do as much as I wanted. They all have to wear uniforms now, so some of the students went back home to try and scare up the money.
Peace
John
Often, small children will be begging you for money on city streets. In this culture, when you are asked for something, and you have it, it's expected that you will part with it. It's survival. But it's only survival when you're a part of the society. So normally a stranger wouldn't be asked for handouts, but is has become easy money.
However, the thought process isn't the same as begging in the States. In the US, a beggar looks at themselves as a victim of a very loosely-knit society and preys upon guilt. Here, a beggar opens up their definition of a member of their society to be defined as all foreigners. And since they need food and money, they'll go ahead and ask. But this goes both ways. If you want, you can go ahead and ask them for something instead, which they feel obliged (and in many cases, more than happy) to give.
Other people told me about this happening, but I didn't believe it. So on the streets of Maputo, I asked a young boy who was asking for money to give ME some money. He did. And I had a very hard time giving it back, as he was happy to leave the money with me.
It's like walking into an elevator where everyone is turned to face the back. The natural inclination is to face the back as well because the people around you are doing it (and are in some way succeeding at a given task). But when someone tells everyone to turn around, you might be the only one who has no reason NOT to. Your only motivation was conformity, but the result looked like you were motivated the same way as everyone else. They don't know why they beg, but they know it works.
For my extra English classes, I may end up teaching at the nearby primary school. They would be free of charge, at least 2 if not 4 times a week, and a refreshing change from Biology. I would look to teach them in a combination of Portuguese and Changana.
This first day back teaching was a good day, because my Portuguese was feeling great. However, very few students were around today, so I couldn't do as much as I wanted. They all have to wear uniforms now, so some of the students went back home to try and scare up the money.
Peace
John
4/27/2003
Tomorrow I begin the second trimester. After having received a lot of good ideas from other people, I'm going to try and implement some of them - like Jeff's idea of having individual students responsible for the main ideas of a unit and stating these ideas for every class; Zach's idea of having a list of numbers (every student has a number) and randomly drawing from that pack to answer questions; and David's idea to make groups for the entire year so you don't have to continue making groups every time you do group work.
And I'm dropping the stuff I tried last semester that didn't work, emphasizing the things that did, and trying some more new stuff. This is all quite exciting, because I feel like I'm starting to be a good teacher.
And I still want to do everything outside of school, too, but I have to choose my battles. I'm considering dropping the theater group until my Portuguese AND Changana have improved, in lieu of working with the World Food Programme. Of course, working with the WFP would be enhanced by my connections with the theater group, so I'm not about to burn my bridges. We'll see what happens.
I've been missing people a lot lately. And it's different because it's been almost seven months since I've seen anyone.
Every day there's two things that get easier and one thing that gets harder. So I'm moving in the right direction, but there are still so many things I have yet to overcome.
Peace
John
And I'm dropping the stuff I tried last semester that didn't work, emphasizing the things that did, and trying some more new stuff. This is all quite exciting, because I feel like I'm starting to be a good teacher.
And I still want to do everything outside of school, too, but I have to choose my battles. I'm considering dropping the theater group until my Portuguese AND Changana have improved, in lieu of working with the World Food Programme. Of course, working with the WFP would be enhanced by my connections with the theater group, so I'm not about to burn my bridges. We'll see what happens.
I've been missing people a lot lately. And it's different because it's been almost seven months since I've seen anyone.
Every day there's two things that get easier and one thing that gets harder. So I'm moving in the right direction, but there are still so many things I have yet to overcome.
Peace
John
4/26/2003
On Thursday, we got introduced to the local contact for the World Food Program. We learned that the province I'm in is being hit hardest by the drought and could result in many people starving to death later this year. My site is the jumping off point for the rest of the province, so it seems that I can do something, even if it's just gathering information from locals about where things are bad. Among other things, I'm optimistic about this mini-project.
I picked up a Changana dictionary in Maputo. Unfortunately, it's only Changana to Portuguese (and not vice versa) but it also has an excellent grammar section. This should be another major step in my language learning.
I handed out six packets of the HIV/AIDS lessons, so hopefully most of the volunteers who have them will give the lessons. And it's up to me to write the next six.
I caught a movie in Maputo, "Eight-Legged Freaks". About the only redeeming quality of the movie was that it was subtitled in Portuguese, so I learned some slang.
Also, a bunch of us went thrift-shopping in a major downtown market. I found a good, tight clubbing shirt and a true find: a Hartford Whalers uniform. I can't find these in the States, but I come to Mozambique and find the uniform of my favorite team!
On Friday night, the outgoing medical officer threw a great party at her place with Indian food, a DJ and lots of...drinks. We went out afterwards to a local club, where I started to feel ill. Not surprisingly. I had pre-partied at the hotel with some whiskey, then had a few glasses of wine at the party. I had received a flu shot earlier in the day, and just the day before had taken my malaria medication. After the taxi dropped just me off, I went back to my room and fought off chills to get to sleep. Weird.
Even weirder was spending so much time in hotels this past week - swimming at all times of the day, and not worrying about much of anything. I decided to not go back to site today, just because it would be too much of a shock. I spent this evening at another site with Chris, Jake and Christen playing euchre and cooking. A good end to the week. On Monday, I start the 2nd trimester. Wow - it's going so quickly..
Peace
John
I picked up a Changana dictionary in Maputo. Unfortunately, it's only Changana to Portuguese (and not vice versa) but it also has an excellent grammar section. This should be another major step in my language learning.
I handed out six packets of the HIV/AIDS lessons, so hopefully most of the volunteers who have them will give the lessons. And it's up to me to write the next six.
I caught a movie in Maputo, "Eight-Legged Freaks". About the only redeeming quality of the movie was that it was subtitled in Portuguese, so I learned some slang.
Also, a bunch of us went thrift-shopping in a major downtown market. I found a good, tight clubbing shirt and a true find: a Hartford Whalers uniform. I can't find these in the States, but I come to Mozambique and find the uniform of my favorite team!
On Friday night, the outgoing medical officer threw a great party at her place with Indian food, a DJ and lots of...drinks. We went out afterwards to a local club, where I started to feel ill. Not surprisingly. I had pre-partied at the hotel with some whiskey, then had a few glasses of wine at the party. I had received a flu shot earlier in the day, and just the day before had taken my malaria medication. After the taxi dropped just me off, I went back to my room and fought off chills to get to sleep. Weird.
Even weirder was spending so much time in hotels this past week - swimming at all times of the day, and not worrying about much of anything. I decided to not go back to site today, just because it would be too much of a shock. I spent this evening at another site with Chris, Jake and Christen playing euchre and cooking. A good end to the week. On Monday, I start the 2nd trimester. Wow - it's going so quickly..
Peace
John
4/23/2003
At the bar tonight, a child of no more than 8 years walked up to us and sat down. I asked him in Portuguese and Changana if he understood me and several basic questions, to which he didn't respond. I asked him if he could speak and he nodded. He alternated between passing out on my leg, getting up and dancing, and drinking the water we gave him. He said to us at one point that he had drunk alcohol here, and didn't seem to be lying or asking for anything. He was generally disoriented and only half-assedly trying to follow us home.
We've been talking a lot lately about why we came here and how hard our lives are at site in different ways - and seeing this drunk kid did not help settle our confusions.
Peace
John
We've been talking a lot lately about why we came here and how hard our lives are at site in different ways - and seeing this drunk kid did not help settle our confusions.
Peace
John
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