Sunday, August 31, 2003

08/09/2003

"Eh, pa". Being sick sucks. My colon has had some extracurricular activities for the past few days. I think I've been more dangerous to the atmosphere than a pasture's worth of cows.

But it's all good. We get good medicine here, like cherry-flavored Pepto Bismol, Orange Gatorade and suggested foods include bananas and applesauce. Of course, you can't BUY applesauce, so making it, you can smell it the whole time and eat it still hot. Yum.

For the record, applesauce twice a day gets old.

Just saw "One Hour Photo" for the second time. Robin Williams is really an incredible actor.

I think quite often about what I want to do when I go back, and acting's definitely crossed my mind, but not professionally. I really would like to be involved in community theater, wherever I end up. It just seems so much more fulfilling.

I had a taste of that on Friday when I was working with the HIV/AIDS activist group. I was having them do role plays where a student who knows nothing about AIDS is asking one of these "activists" what it is. They got it, for the most part, and after giving a brief explanation taken pretty directly from definitions I've given and that they've heard from other sources, they moved on to talk about everything else they know about AIDS. But my intention was to probe their knowledge and see if they understood it well enough to explain it in simple terms.

Really, the whole exercise was very much like a character development exercise I've done and likewise led for others to do. In this character development exercise, you nitpick someone's character choices by asking them very specific questions about their character, so that they have to make up information. The idea is that if they can make up consistent information dealing with their character, then they know the character.

What I wanted this role play to be was essentially the same thing. So I chose one of the activists to be my model, and I pretended to be a student with no AIDS knowledge.

"How do you get AIDS?"

"If you have the HIV virus..."

"What's a virus?"

"Well, it's a cell, see..."

"What's a cell?"

"Well, um..."

I admit, it was mean and maybe a little TOO nitpicky, but eventually I got results...

"A cell is...well, all living things are made of cells. You can't see them."

"So you can't see HIV?"

"No."

"So what does it do?"

"It destroys your immune system."

"Your imm...what??"

"Your immune system. It's what fights diseases in your body."

"Oh, so your body can't fight diseases with HIV!"

"Right!"

I think this kid thought he didn't know anything, but he really knew quite a bit, just not how to explain it. And we all had a fun time, with me playing dumb - and of course, I hammed it up, as these sessions can get dry otherwise - it felt good to be acting on some level.

I just hope more of my students show up, because I only ended up with 6 kids on Friday.

Peace

John

08/07/2003

I've been slightly ill lately with a stomach/GI thing. I may not play handball tomorrow. Yesterday, I was a goalie for about 5 minutes. It's radically different from hockey or soccer because of the angles, equipment, angle from which the object is coming, and freedom of movement of the goalie. Picture being a rat with a flyswatter running around the rim of a basketball hoop.

I've been thinking a lot lately about things I can't remember or don't wish to bring up here.

That being said, I'm quite busy. With English classes, handball, school, and HIV/AIDS activist training, I need my evenings for nothing to do.

Naturally, I've been taking that time to read about becoming a better teacher. I'm realizing that doing so is almost impossible in a system that values raw memorized knowledge held to a low level of what's considered "competent". My students don't know how to read a sentence and even on a basic level, understand it. They often don't have the desire to try. There are clearly exceptions, a few in every class. But as I can't do what I feel is necessary - failing the students who don't demonstrate a capacity to learn - I have to essentially figure out who is more mediocre.

I don't blame anyone for this. I've thought about the Mozambican government, foreign governments, NGOs, political parties, warring parties, parents, the students themselves, teachers, etc., but it seems like it's a product of every single factor. There's not enough money for books, so teachers spend much of their time dictating. There are not enough teachers, so many classes go untaught. So when you try to actually teach two classes in a row, students get antsy and frustrated. As a teacher, you learn it's easier to dictate. When you dictate, you can only test on memorization of the information, because you never explained it. And since teachers teach how they were taught, the cycle continues.

Poverty breeds poverty more literally, as well. NGOs flock to poor countries, but those countries very quickly become dependent on foreign aid and lose their natural blue-collar workforce.

What I don't know is how to break the cycle. I know that in education, it starts with subtle changes in teaching methodologies. But money?

Peace

John

08/05/2003

I think that I'm finding the keys to lesson planning, little by little. The hard part seems to be picking out the important information and how to relate it to info the students already know. This is and of itself presents several problems.

First of all, deciding what is important is extremely difficult. The stated curriculum is comprehensive to put it lightly. There is more than one topic to cover per lesson. I've figured out that AT MOST, I can adequately cover one topic per lesson. Plus, most teachers don't even finish all their lessons. So putting aside the part of me that wants to follow all the rules, I pare down the curriculum to what I think is really important to know. This means, what information does the student need to understand in order to understand more complex subjects, and which concepts are useful to know for the sake of knowing.

Then, the second challenge begins. I have to figure out what the student already knows and built on it. I cannot assume that material which should have been given before, truly has been given and processed by the students. This is true in any educational system. But this is usually remedied by a brief review. Not here. I have to reteach subjects on a regular basis. Moreover, subjects I've covered earlier in the year require several minutes of review. When it comes to actually processing the day's material, there is only a little time left to do so.

So I go with one of two philosophies for most lessons. One is the pyramid scheme, where I start out by referring to a large amount of given information, pare it down and explain most of it, then pare that down and give exercises on most of the explained information, finally giving some activity to emphasize the single topic I consider to be most important.

The other philosophy is sequential. I start with a manageable amount of information, based mainly on common knowledge. Piece by piece, I explore each part of it, giving the students opportunities to internalize the material, without paring anything down. Unlike the pyramid theory, activities aren't for solidifying one single idea, but for thinking outside the information given so that the concepts can be utilized later.

The pyramid scheme works great for compact, straightforward concepts. In Biology, there are many of these. But often, you are not faced with a question of right vs wrong, but better vs worse. And so guiding the students through the material, letting them pass judgment on the quality of the material, is very important.

Of course, my lesson planning has also been aided by my improving Portuguese. Being able to walk into a room without having planned exactly what to say - or sometimes not even having any idea - and pulling off a good lesson based upon what the students are up for and my resources at the moment, is a great asset. Six months ago, I was not only incapable of doing this, but I couldn't imagine being so underprepared.

I feel like I've come a long, long way in these few months.

Peace

John

06/22/2003

I went to visit Chris and Zach this weekend and spent a healthy night on the town. We caught up over a few beers, cheese sandwiches (meat for them) and dancing. We heard a lot of American music everywhere we went, and most everyone else seemed to appreciate it as much as we did, which is to say, half-heartedly.

I've been thinking about the next step lately, meaning what I'll do when I get back. With as much distance as I have between now and then, I can still be idealistic: writing a book, hiking the Appalachian Trail, going to grad school for acting, buying a computer and an apartment and see how far my money goes on consulting work, finding something completely new to do and selling myself to whomever will take me...but as much as this journal is about my day-to-day activities including my thoughts, I don't think this is all that interesting or something I should dwell on. So I'm moving on.

Really, I've been thinking about all sorts of different things, which isn't that bizarre or unexpected - meaning that I've adjusted pretty completely life here. As comforting as that thought is at first, it's actually quite disappointing. It's probably why I've started thinking about the next adventure. My threshold for adventure has been raised to an unattainable daily level - how I'm doing what I came to do, which is work and help people. Once again, I need to look closer at every single thing I'm doing and find the smaller challenges and the smaller adventures.

On some level, I've already started doing that - I just need to keep my mind from straying too far from what I'm trying to accomplish.

One of these things being HIV/AIDS education...we had a meeting Saturday with the provincial office about this subject. All of the teachers in my city (about 2-300 probably), were there. Unfortunately, the session was a little long and the people running it were a little long-winded, but 4 hours after it started, I had a better idea of what ideas here are on HIV/AIDS education. And it's not that different from what I had thought. Plus, the guy running it came up to me afterwards and mentioned he's been meaning to talk to me because of what I'm trying to organize within the school. In all, a good sign. But the presentation of the idea could be worked on.

Peace

John

06/20/2003

I was talking with Oscar tonight about his paintings. He's created these wonderful representations of floods, cyclones and war, and is currently showing them in a few sites. He plans on selling the paintings, but only after he's shown them in a few places. He's a gifted artist and has a rare perspective.

I asked him when he plans on selling them, and he responded that they would be sold only after he shows everything together. And he doesn't want to sell everything here in town - not for lack of trying, but because people don't see what he sees. He wants people to see the underlying meaning - more than just colors and people. Immediately, I thought of my struggles in the classroom, and how so much of my time is spent telling people to see past the words and drawings and look for the meaning. Sometimes they find it quite unexpectedly and are unsure of what to do. Like when I held up a pen as an example of something that cannot die, so therefore it is inorganic - and one of my students argued that the pen lives when it writes and dies when it can't write any more. She got laughed at by the rest of the class, and though I wanted to praise her for thinking critically about what I was saying, I couldn't get off the topic and hope to teach the material. But there was a part of me that came alive in that moment as it did tonight as well. Oscar revealed that there was a connection in this artwork, and he wanted people to see the connection and understand it completely before they took one piece of the puzzle away. Because they wouldn't be able to understand the piece they took out of context. And he doesn't meet many people who understand it here.

As spiritually fulfilling as it was to make that connection, it's frustrating to realize how inaccessible other people's spirituality is here, or to know if it's really there. I hear a couple people speaking of it here and there, but it doesn't seem to be a pervading everyday influence. The parallels with education are too strong to ignore. There is a certain spirituality that any educational discipline has, even such traditionally rote subjects as math or chemistry. Once you see it, numbers and atoms come alive and dance in your head, trying on various combinations until one works. And so is the way with art. You look at a painting and all of these representations of life jump into your head, waltzing into different positions and adjusting themselves ever so slightly until the spirit of the creation moves and winds along smoothly. You don't see colors and figures, but feel an emotion and an understanding that transcends the medium. This is what I teach every day, and I try different methods and different philosphical approaches to it. But the idea is still the same. Look beyond the details. A painting can have mistakes, but the same feeling is conveyed, just like I can teach Biology in Portuguese (broken, no less) and it's the same Biology I learned in perfect English. Not because of the translation, but because of the deeper meaning that causes us to say "Plants use the energy of the sun..." But my students see these only as words.

Maybe my students are all just existentialists and just see a word as a word and nothing more...

These new lessons are working out quite well now, though I'm having the same frustrations just in different ways. The upside is that I'm using a visual method to explain concrete information which I think caters to more learning styles. And I offer plenty of opportunity to participate, helping those who need to practice the information. Because I'm more of a visual learner, I memorize the lesson by the second time I've given it, which helps tremendously with my ability to explain myself all along the way. I think I'll try this system for the first couple units of next trimester's material and see how it goes.

Peace

John

06/19/2003

My Changana learning is improving by leaps and bounds, kind of like this stage in my Portuguese. I've gotten past the initial hump of nothing making sense and not knowing any of the basics as to form coherent sentences. It really turns out that when learning a language, colloquialisms and conjunctions are your best friends. Everything else you can fake your way through, but you can't gesture "and", "but", "or" or "that" all too well, and make a coherent sentence. And when you finally learn how to say OK (hi swona) and people react exactly how they should, it's a good feeling. And then the vocabulary starts to fly when you study it in the morning, practice it during the day, then study it again at night. And all it takes is a couple minutes total per word. I'm beginning to see how people learn dozens of languages. As long as you've got good learning skills and you're anal and perfectly willing to be wrong 95% of the time because the time you're right you'll remember it - you'll do just fine.

I've noticed I pick up new Portuguese every day, and my pronunciation also improves. My grammar is actually getting worse, as I try to adjust it to a Bantu-language grammar so that I'm better understood, rather than just being correct. I find I'll say things twice in class, the first time correctly, the second way in a more Bantu-like grammar.

I've been reading what's basically a cheap textbook on the American Revolution. I'm hopelessly drawn to it because it's so momentous and I was forced to learn about it, rather than taking the time on my own to absorb it all. Not that I would have in high school - incredible how, as adults, we make curricula for high schoolers around the things we think are interesting and important, but usually are the things we've only later found to be interesting and important.

Anyway, reading about this has reminded me of how willing people are to die for an idea and how stretched altruism becomes in times of war. And usually those people are young and poor. So what makes MY life so much more valuable than those who died allowing me to be here, trying to help others?

Peace

John

06/18/2003

Lately, I've been doing all sorts of work on various projects all day long. Kinda doesn't leave time for living. Which is what being here is all about.

We made an excellent eggplant pasta sauce tonight. First, fried up the eggplant in a milk/flour mixture, then tossed that into a tomato sauce and served over pasta. Yesterday, we made a couve (one of the green leafs) type sauce and served it over rice. With a cup of pounded peanuts in it, it was delicious and healthy. So yeah, I've been eating well lately.

I gave three lessons today that had the same format as the lesson I gave yesterday. In a couple of the turmas, the students really paid attention and were involved in the lesson. Though the end concept I was going for went over most of their heads, I think they still learned something and it's worth it to keep trying this method of teaching. Especially when the majority of the material is a review, there's no sense in talking about it in detail, all over again.

Little by little, I'm figuring out what works in the classroom, realizing that the considerations I anticipated aren't necessarily the ones that are most important. I have to tailor my lessons to make them shorter when a turma is impatient. I can't make them do work in groups every other class. Multiple choice tests are easier to grade, but harder to give.

Peace

John

06/17/2003

I tried a new method of giving lessons, culminating in the first "success story" today. First, during one lesson, I gave the information for 3-4 lessons. This gives both me and the students a nice break from thinking. Not that they're usually wracking their brains, but the variety is good!

And so for the remaining lessons, I stand up and explain the material in as many different ways and being as interactive as humanly possible. After doing this just once, I can see the positives and negatives.

For the students who usually listen and are interested in the lessons, they learn a lot more and are able to participate much more actively. But for the students who see Biology as time to fill, I seem to have no chance. I could see this trend shaping up, so I took some immediate action today. Seeing one of my troublemakers spaced out, studying another subject, I decided to use her as an example. I knew her number (every student is assigned a number within their class or turma), and so I pretended to think of a random number, then said "eleven", looking around aimlessly. The students started to laugh when they realized she'd been caught red-handed and this started to help with other students. But it's all too easy to not pay attention when you don't need to write anything down.

I also gave a multiple-choice quiz today. What a pain in the ass it has been to explain how to do a multiple-choice test. But they're getting it, and it's a good scientific technique to know I suppose.

Peace

John

06/16/2003

I saw my first Mozambican concert here in town, at the discoteca on Saturday night. It was a pasada artist named Yara - she was a good singer, but it was hard to tell given the combination of alcohol in my system, the quality of the sound system, and the CD that was her backing "band". Even her fans left halfway through her set. Then again, she did take the stage at 2 AM.

Nimi and I left the discoteca about 3:30 AM while Yara was still "singing". We had both dug into a gin and tonic, a couple White Russians (I had to go get the milk, then carefully walk the bartender through the whole process), and several beers. Needless to say, we needed a snack. So we headed over to the bread store (aka Bakery) and as luck would have it, my friend John Juan was there. He offered us some bread directly out of the oven - when we opened it up, the steam fogged up our glasses. It was the most wonderful bread I've ever had.

We got home, and I jumped right into bed. It's pretty chilly this time of year (at night it gets to the mid-to-high 50s sometimes) and so I've been sleeping in my sleeping bag lately. It's not like my nose is gonna freeze off, but very nice sleeping.

Today, Monday, I got up at 7 and immediately ran errands. I walked the couple miles to the District Director's office, spending a little time on the Internet along the way. Coming back, I stopped by the central market to pick up some food from Maria's family and practice my Changana, then continued on to the ATM and then my tailor to pick up some pants I had made. On the way back, I mailed a couple letters, bought some fresh eggs, and picked up a piece of hardware to fix a drain we've been having problems with.

All along the way, I saw people, stopping to talk for a little bit, and took a couple different routes to see the traditional straw and mud houses I haven't seen before. I thought about playing roller hockey, what "being in the moment" really means, people from back home, and how cool it was that I could see all these wonderfully real things and people any time I wanted. It's just a matter of not being in a hurry and being willing to do some walking.

Some people think of travel time as unnecessarily wasteful, especially when spent alone. And unfortunately in the States, it often is. We're locked in our cars, shutting ourselves off from the world. Yes, there are cars here, but even THEY stop to chat and pick random people up.

And so where in the States we define ourselves in terms of the things we do, here you are defined by your relationships with people. You can read that in dozens of books on cultural differences, but it's actually and subtly true. There's a certain base level of judgment every culture makes on things you do, likewise for the relationships you maintain. But here, it's that the emphasis is on the latter.

So this works against the volunteer, who in many ways defines themself as doing things for other people, when to these people this aspect isn't the first thing they see. Just when you expect even the smallest pat on the back, you realize that you need to go and find a colleague and just talk with him for a while. This work is inevitably humbling.

I mentioned I was thinking about "being in the moment". This is a concept I've wrestled with for quite a while, years, in fact. It's a very attractive concept, and it boils down to always observing and doing, acting almost instinctively, without many of the filters and inhibitions that define our normal lives. But it's impossible to practice. The idea that thinking about yesterday or tomorrow is NOT in the moment is quite the fallacy. We are always necessarily "in the moment", it's just how much we let what's going on affect us. And so, if by seeing something on a long walk that reminds you of a distant memory and your train of thought starts exploring this memory, you're not classically "in the moment". But you're avoiding the pitfall of dwelling in a time other than the present.

In acting, you're constantly reminded to "be in the moment". Whatever happens on stage, you need to be ready as if it's the first time it has ever happened. You need to react through the mask of your character, which may or may not be "in the moment", but it's your job as the actor to make that decision. So acting is really the ultimate exercise in this concept, but it's impossible to live life like this without driving yourself crazy (which I just about did at one point). If your senses are always on alert, you'll just break down. You need to draw a line in the sand and "be in the moment" for only part of the time.

I miss Western theater. I miss picking up a script and getting inside the head of a character, creating another person that lives inside of me and shares a body and a couple raw human traits, but exists on a different dimension. I miss seeing people genuinely react to the character and not to me. I guess that's why it's such a high when students "get it". My teacher character is successful...

Peace

John

Monday, August 25, 2003

08/04/2003

What is passion?

The outward effects of passion are desperately blind. They are the things that make you wonder if someone, infected with passion, is even conscious. Good or bad, a passionate person will follow their heart, setting aside all roadblocks, external or internal. Wonderful and horrible things happen in the name of passion. It seems to be an evolutionarily developed response to get things done quickly.

Internally, passion is tunnel-visioned. Passion sees one singular path to a given goal and sticks to it so rapidly that alternative paths are never even given the opportunity to be tried. Passion turns off learned responses and invokes an automatic pilot of its own.

And passion spreads, infecting those who have a similar weakness for the same idea. Passion strikes a chord that nobody can put a finger on, but know that it is inside themselves, too. A shared passion exponentially increases the likelihood that danger will be ignored. Likewise, it increases the probability of success.

And so passion is often invoked by great leaders who analytically consider an idea and put such a one-sided spin on it that followers are drawn into this leader's words. A great leader gives his followers no other choice but to follow, disguising it as a choice. The idea of free will is more attractive than the reality of free will. So a great leader can tap into this universal passion, with incredible results.

In world politics, it seems that we are constantly faced with this situation. Citizens are blinded by analytical leaders with both positive and negative results - and these leaders are looked upon as intelligent and cold. Citizens blinded by passionate leaders almost always end up slipping up and figuring out that their leader does not deserve to be leading them. Passion doesn't do well, coming from the top.

But when it comes down to local politics and development work, passion from the top is quite necessary. A small project can be finished successfully before it can be analyzed to death. And if it doesn't work, time and money (not lives) are the victims.

Diamentino pitched the idea of creating a school for training English teachers in the primary schools today. There's a definite need, and also available trainers in the area. The passion in his eyes, which I often see, was apparent. But I did something I rarely do - I told him to keep it in mind and sit on the idea for a week or two to let it stew. I saw the passion drain from his eyes, but not the idealism. I think it's a fantastic idea, but I don't want his idea to be trapped and confined by passion. It hurt to see the fire extinguished, but I wanted him to lose his tunnel vision. If he still thinks he can make it happen, and that it's a good idea, I'll help him in any way I can and make it happen.

Sometimes I feel like my trained reaction to look at an idea critically takes all the fun out of it. I guess that's why I feel the need to just throw caution to the wind and do some things with pure passion in mind.

So, to define passion...it seems to be like fire literally and figuratively. A fire can give and take away life, spread incredibly quickly and is completely indiscriminate. And like everything else, needs to be balanced out.

Peace

John

08/03/2003

Well, our second in-service training is over. And as Dennis suggested, when there's too much to write, start by saying that there's too much to write.

I'm in the post-IST slump which inevitably happens after seeing people constantly for a week and a half, now trying to get accustomed to the very different life of day-to-day matters, including projects and teaching. Not to mention shopping, cleaning and laundry.

Which has all made me miss home - the US - even more. In many ways, the volunteers have become a surrogate family for each other, but in my holding onto what I had as strongly as I am (in my mind at least), I haven't opened up to as many people here as I would have liked to...so far. And that goes for people around town and Americans as well. But as I'm making progress with that here in town, I'm still trying to figure Americans out.

In any case, I'm still taking everything one day at a time. Though I have been doing that for 10 months now.

My head's literally swimming with thoughts, ideas, anxieties, music, memories, responsibilities, smells, sights, and it all seems to be tempered by the fact that I go home in less than a year and a half. But at the same time, I may end up going to Europe - halfway, more or less. So does that make it feel like I didn't go home because I didn't want to, or that I wasn't planning on going in the first place, but I'm making a short exception.

I think maybe what my closeness problem with the other volunteers is, is that I really do rely upon myself for solving my problems and inevitably expect that of others in this new situation, though I grew out of thinking that way in the context of being in the US. I know that I need others as much as they need me, but by giving people the impression that I don't, then they don't seek me out when looking to solve their own problems.

I suppose that I have my own analytical self to blame for that. I feel every problem like a needle stuck in a fingertip and until I've taken care of the problem, it's sitting there, begging me to do something. And because I can't instantaneously solve my problems with other people, I turn inwards - mentally healthy but socially detrimental. There becomes such discord between how others perceive me and the person I really am, that it's hard to break the cycle.

And really, my problems need to be worked out with people around me...so I'm back to being more personally involved in the community.

In other news, I visited Sr. Bernardo and had dinner with him, talking for a couple hours about what's going on in the world and in Mozambique. Everyone else's host family seemed to have visible improvements to their homes from the stipend they received for hosting us, but my old house was devoid of major improvements. I hope they're saving the money!

We found some excellent restaurants in Maputo, including Thai and Indian restaurants tucked away in corners, offering great vegetarian options. We went out on the town a couple times and even had a party at another house where we ate black bean dip, hummus and salsa. Rarely have we been so happy.

We also discussed travel plans for the Christmas break and it seems that many people are going home for at least a couple weeks. A year ago, I couldn't imagine wanting to go back in the middle of things, but now I understand!

Tomorrow, I wake up at 6:30 to do laundry and warm up for handball. At 8:00 I go play until 10, when I come back, make breakfast and help Marcilio with some biology questions. Then, after showering and getting my things together, I will go to school for an 11:30 meeting with my HIV/AIDS activists. At 12:30, I will help lead the singing of the national anthem, then at 12:45 I will start teaching. As I will most likely be one of only a few teachers there, I should be able to get out early, do some shopping, including buying some bread, and be home at 6:00. I'll probably reheat the dinner I made for tonight, then plan an English lesson for a class at 7:00AM Tuesday.

I feel that if I were to integrate fully into the culture here, I would have to radically change who I am and not fill my day up with activities. I just don't see that happening. Maybe I'll never integrate completely, but at least I'll accomplish some of my own goals. That doesn't seem right. I'm not here for me.

I think what gets me is that in the US, we define ourselves by what we do, as here it matters more what relationships you build in doing things. I think there's a balance, however, and I can build relationships while getting things done. It's American to think that I will build relationships by doing things - I just need to always be ready to take a step back and relax, letting the situation do whatever it needs to.

It's not that by taking projects on I am ignoring how things work; as long as I understand that it will always be "hurry up and wait".

Well, I've been trying to describe an entire wall instead of one brick in the wall. So here goes my brick for the day -

I was sitting in the back left corner of the chapa to town today. In front of me on the floor, was the box containing the microscope sent from the States. The seat in front of me had no back and the three men to my right were taking up the entire back bench. As I had no space for my legs, I brought my left knee up, resting my foot on a peg of the backless seat in front. My right leg jointed at a 90 degree angle, butting my knee up against the leg of the man next to me. I put my arm behind everyone else, on top of the arm of the man in the right-most seat, and a girl got on, sitting in the seat in front of me. She leaned back, using my left leg as a chair. I looked out the window, through the ladder used to access the roof. It was a wonderful feeling, being so close to everyone else on the chapa and enjoying the sights on a beautiful, cool day. I was comfortable and realized I had nowhere better to be at that moment.

Peace

John

07/30/2003

"Two nights ago, we drank 53 beers", says Chris, "which is 30 liters of beer.

We're waking up in the training center, waiting for our counterparts to show up and eat a breakfast we can hear and smell being cooked. We don't need to wash sheets, clothes or dishes. Life is tough.

Peace

John

07/25/2003

I'm in Maputo, relaxing at a hotel. I have been watching more TV than, well, in the past three months combined. It's horrible, a bug sucking my life away. But equally irresistible...even watching movies I've practically memorized, in French, with poor reception.

Peace

John

Sunday, August 17, 2003

07/23/2003

I asked about the ceremony regarding the exams today. It's nothing earth-shattering, just that it needs to be confirmed by a student that the exams haven't been tampered with, and the applause is congratulating this fact.

I took "a stroll" tonight through the second "bairro", or neighborhood. I live in the first bairro, which is quite accustomed to white people. But going to the second is like crossing the railroad tracks. It's a different atmosphere, and at night, a different world. During the day, I get taunted and stared at. At night, I can't tell when I'm being stared at.

I was looking for Diamentino's place so I could talk to him. Realizing I'd overshot it, but not wanting to embarrass myself by turning around, I took an unlit side path (compared with the sporadic overhead street lights that sometimes work). I quickly found myself in a maze of different paths but this was somehow comforting.

I think it was because this reminded me of the village I was in during training, that I had grown accustomed to navigating at night. My area here in town is basically a grid of roads, nothing like this unplanned set of new alleyways. It was fantastic. My only fear was walking down someone's path to their house instead of a public path - only because it would be embarrassing. I've grown accustomed to navigating through areas like this now. Because the ground is uneven, your steps change to remove all anticipation as to where you will find ground and be ready to place between three inches above or below where you foot left. You learn how to keep a mental compass and ignore misleading visual cues ("reed hut on the left" isn't very useful).

And then, out of nowhere, a large white streak that turned red appeared in the sky. Immediately, I thought it was a firework, but it was not accompanied by an explosion or more of the same, so it must have been a meteor. It was truly enormous. I spend the rest of the walk with one eye on the sky, to no avail.

Finally finding his place, after taking a right at the bizarrely located public phone, I found out he wasn't home.

I kept on walking, enjoying the night and saying hi to people I could recognize. Many more people recognize my, though. Sometimes I truly feel like the glow-in-the-dark volunteer. Just sit him in the African sun, and he'll work for two years!

Peace

John

07/22/2003

I spent a while thinking tonight about "Lucky Stiff", Ballroom Wednesdays, and just generally what my life was like before I came here. I miss that stuff because it was so nice to be among fun-loving people and learning how to do things while working hard.

Then I think about what my life is here and, well, I'm among fun-loving people and I'm learning how to do things while working hard.

So what I miss is that my world was small and I could wrap my head around it. Now, there are too many possibilities, including there being too many choices of places to settle down, people to spend time with, etc.

I'm constantly thinking romantic thoughts, narrowing my world down and pursuing a few things really well instead of everything half-assedly. But I know that once I narrow down my world, I'll constantly be pushing at the walls again.

And then the question of mortality pops into my brain, and just how fragile every life is. Should I be so carefree and idealistic as to base my desires on what I'm capable of - or should I plan around what will benefit others - or still just live each moment to the fullest?

I've come all this way, and I don't even know HOW I want to live. Right now, I'm doing what I want to do, but that's only due to a gut feeling. Is there more? Do I need to analytically determine exactly how I am to live my life?

But when I think about this, it seems ridiculous. If I'm to devote my waking hours to figuring out what I should do with my waking hours, I'm no better off than the risk-avoider who forgos "life" for "safety". It's safety that I can find, but only life that I can live. I suppose I could spend my time figuring out how best to use my time, but it's likely the answer would look a lot like what I'm currently doing.

So it's OK to drift off into good memories as long as I don't get caught up in replicating what can never happen again.

Peace

John

07/21/2003

I proctored one of the national exams today. It was a more formal affair, though I still had to deal with cheating, on a lesser scale.

What freaked me out, though, was the unexpected ceremony attached to it. The exams, in a sealed envelope, were handed to one of the students taking the test. In a very ordinary manner, as if he'd done this a hundred times, he opened the envelope, took out one of the exams, then held it up for everyone to see - and received a round of applause.

I'm still at a loss to explain why it's done that way here - what the symbolism is. It's just so...bizarre.

I helped Ebi with English today after treating him to some past primavera and peppermint tea. He needed to know the difference between "lay" and "lie". (I thumbed through dictionaries and grammar books for a while before finding an adequate answer.) When is a proper usage of "which", and pronoun usage. All of them incredibly hard for non-native speakers, and very hard even for native speakers. We're so used to language as we use it, and not how it's SUPPOSED to be used. And in studying Portuguese and Changana, one finds that this gap is much narrower in other languages than English. English rules have been applied for the wrong reasons and are only changed after long, arduous processes. Portuguese grammar is downright easy. Changana is hard but not impossible, and English is just unbearable.

One exercise he had tonight was to determine whether a noun needs an "a" or an "an" in front of it. The main exceptions are words starting with "h", "u" and "o". Words that have a root in "one", typically take "a"; words that have a root in the Latin "one" ("uni-") also take "a", and words that have Latin roots starting with "h" are usually "an", if the accent is not on the first syllable. And then we got to "herb". My Portuguese-English dictionary has the IPA spelling including a pronounced "h". But I don't say it that way, and neither do many people I know. So what's right? He's only got the questions, not the answers, so I may never know. Also, what's the difference between "Responsibility for children's lives" and "Responsibility for the lives of children" when a pronoun refer to "children" in the predicate? More importantly, who cares?

Peace

John

07/20/2003

Well, I did it. I woke up, made breakfast, cleaned a little bit, then started to walk around. Within minutes, I ran into Justin, Kingston's brother. Kingston is a geography teacher at my school, from Zimbabwe.

We started talking and walking, and ended up at Kingston's place where I met his wife and 18-month old kid, Neil. Kingston's wife prepared a breakfast of potatoes in some sort of light meat sauce and bread and butter, with tea. The three of us (including Justin) sat and talked politics and culture for about 2 1/2 hours. It was great. I had nowhere to be, nothing to do other than just discuss Liberia and Sao Tome. We talked about teaching and the differences between education here and in our native countries. I learned "thank you" in Shona (which I quickly forgot), one of the big Zimbabwean dialects, made a promise to see the Great Zimbabwe and Victoria Falls once my service is over, and left wanting to take Neil back with me!

I also did a little housework with Jorgito, making the place more secure.

I think, little by little, I'm losing the bad American habits of rushing and stressing out. I think the key to it is to convince myself that I'm accomplishing something by managing to accomplish nothing. Which satisfies that desire to always be doing, doing, doing. And in reality, it's not nothing. By strengthening my relationships with the community, I'm making my two years here that much more important for the community.

It was a small step today, one that I need to repeat more often, but it felt great. And I'm having a harder time trying to imagine what life in the States was like.

Peace

John

07/19/2003

I'm lying. It's actually the 20th, but only a few minutes in.

The day started with a meeting of all the teachers at my school, discussing the trimester. At one point, I was called on to justify my "approval" of my students. Last semester, I passed 20% of the students. 50% is average. They were rightfully concerned. When I stood up and announced that my approval is now 70%, they gave me a round of applause. I'm still not quite sure why!

I had lunch with Nimi at a local restaurant. There were a bunch of Portuguese over there, trying out a little Changana with the waitress. It was funny. Nimi and I talked about jobs when we get back - that will be strange, indeed.

And tonight I ate a second dinner and hung out with Charles and Annie for a while. We talked about philosophy, intelligence and religion. It was great to have a discussion like that, but at the same time, I feel guilty. Why am I not doing this with Mozambicans?

I know it's a comfort thing, but if I really want to understand the culture, I need to let go of being in familiar situations. I need to learn how to "take around" here and just walk, expecting nothing to come of it other than to see people. This is probably one skill that nobody can teach you, you just have to do.

I suppose I had the same problem in college, to a point. I'd always come and visit with some purpose - my main challenge is to overcome my need to be always doing something and realize that walking around IS doing something.

I should start tomorrow morning. Wake up, make breakfast, do a little cleaning, then just go. I can't let myself come up with anything to do. I just have to go.

And then, hopefully, I'll start seeing more opportunities to really be a part of the culture and not just BE here. I came to help, but I'm not any different than a stack of money if all I do is my job.

Peace

John

05/21/2003

I went to the Primary School today to talk with the people there about our recently cancelled English classes. The director basically brushed us off. Whatever's going on, Blake and my directors don't know anything about it. All we can do is start looking for a new place to give lessons.

Since I was out that way anyway, I watched a class of Diamantino's. He's teached phys ed and doing some HIV/AIDS activist workshops as well. He was in a nearly empty classroom with about 30 kids packed against the back wall, making for a shit rehearsal area. I was given the only chair in the room, as is custom.

He started off very optimistic, posing a question about the use of condoms and how people feel about it. The students were all talking amongst themselves, completely disrespectfully. Diamentino asked the same question about 6 times, and finally got a very snippy and defensive response. He was visibly hurt.

And I knew exactly why. I get it all the time, this feeling of intense apathy because death and suffering is all around, though not as visible as it could be. So why try to change things?

Why should a student be committed to changing things if they're not going to see 40, need to help provide for their family and just want to enjoy life when they can? This is a question that runs to the very core of my job as well. Why are these kids in school?

Some of them are bored, and have a little money to spare. Some want to get a higher-paying job with the certificate they'll receive. Some come because their parents want them outside the house. Some come for the social atmosphere. These students are not just my enemies. They are the enemies of education. And it's a universal problem and so the question is not how to rid the school of these students, but how to motivate them to be in the room as active participants.

The other students, who really want to UNDERSTAND, will be your ally no matter what. Whether or not they're good at it, it doesn't matter. But they are so few, that they are often poisoned by the unmotivated masses.

And so here I was in the HIV/AIDS activist session with a very involved, caring leader that was turning into a nightmare. Nobody was getting anything out of it. And why? Was it really this question of motivation?

Perhaps it's the human condition. Kids are naturally egotistical until they really face mortality and see family as a way out. So what matters to a young human is "What will make ME feel good?" And to an older person who has een the light of living on in the lives of others is incredibly frustrated by this blindness and doesn't know what to do about it. Once you realize how good giving feels, you forget that you once did not know.

But it seems more hopeless than this. All the statistics say that the 10-14 year olds are the age group that we need to worry about. There are almost no 10-14 year olds with HIV, and the biggest group is 15-24. Prevention lies with them. But what is it that makes the 15-24 year olds so vulnerable in the first place? Is it this same invincibility that is perceived until it is too late, manifested in unprotected sex?

The first programs targeted at this behavior used scare tactics and a general morbid feeling. MAKE the youth feel mortality that isn't close to them, but close enough so that they can draw conclusions.

But it didn't work. Was it because fear just romanticizes rebellion that it backfired, or was it because the message was negative? It seems to be a little of both.

I think the right answer lies in internalizing mortality. Not making students afraid, but allowing them to feel a wider spectrum of emotions than the sadness of a funeral and the happiness of hearing the white guy say something...anything, apparently.

So maybe the solution lies in changing the approach of education away from facts and back to culture. This culture talks, and feels through communication. What if students could share their stories about relatives they lost due to HIV/AIDS? Augmented with facts and answers to questions, maybe it could actually put a human - an African - face on prevention.

The challenge to this end is where it will always be - execution and destigmatization. How do you find these students who are willing to say that a sister or brother died of AIDS? The stigma is so powerful here, you only hear secondhand that someone died from HIV/AIDS. Never from the family. It's considered to be too shameful.

So maybe I should start with anonymous stories, submitted voluntarily and then shared so that the writer can not be identified. And the kids eat up brochures, so maybe draw up some pamphlet which contains all the stories so that other students can get a feel for what others are going through, on their own terms and own time.

---

I'm going to visit the bakery tonight. For real.

THE BAKERY

I walked in, glasses fogged, to see John Juan counting bread. 50 pieces in every crate. Behind him, large mixers were going full steam, flanked by 50 lb sacks of flour, a bag of salt (that I later found out to be packed with "vitamins" as well) and packets of yeast.

About 20 workers were mixing, cutting, arranging, folding or baking the bread in an automatic manner, using their bare hands. Some wearing aprons made from rice sacks, most with hats of one sort, and a few with shoes.

After the large mixing bowls, the dough goes to the cutting machine that slices it into baseball-sized pieces. Then, almost haphazardly, the pieces are separated and formed into more rounded shapes and tossed to the next station. At this station, there are two loaders who place the balls on large wooden racks, about 2' wide and 10' long. These racks are stacked to wait for the folders. There are two sets of folders: the initial fold group, and the arranging group. The initial fold group makes an indentation in the middle of the bread to wrap it around their hand, tosses it to the second group, and the second group places the folded bread on baking racks. These baking racks then go to the oven crew. The oven has 16 slots - 4 rows of 4 slots that are about 2' wide by 1' high. One rack of bread is loaded into each slot and the wooden rack is removed immediately. Once all 16 slots are filled, the oven operator turns it up full blast, taking a step back (and forcing me to do likewise) from the intense heat. And what's powering this monstrous oven that provides bread for over 150,000 people? Wood. After being baked for a few minutes (it doesn't take too long), the bread gets unloaded into huge rolling bins to be counted into crates, by John Juan.

The smell was so magnificent I had to eat a piece of bread when I got home. I promised the guys there I'd try and find a good place to teach them English - it could be the beginning of a fun relationship!

Peace

John

05/20/2003

"Boa tarde senhor professor".

(Good afternoon, teacher.)

I tell the students they can sit down, which they do while mocking my manner of telling them to sit down. Happens every time.

I give a quiz. One of the last questions has to do with "consistencia" of a root. They laugh every time I say this word. I didn't understand why until today. I say "cong-zish-tens-ee-uh", but it should be "cong-sish-tens-ee-uh". The former is a very vulgar word in Changana and the latter is a property of roots.

I look at the date I'm writing on the board. Didn't May just begin?

A student stands up against the din of a noisy class.

"Hit her", he says.

"Never", I reply.

We have a lengthy public argument over the value in hitting as a form of discipline. I say it creates more problems than it solves. The student says the same thing about my policy. Many students agree. They're used to it as discipline. They listen to violence. But it just breeds hate.

The English classes got cancelled by some higher-up. We're not quite sure yet, but this could be messy.

All in all, not an abnormal day.

Peace

John

05/19/2003

(THIS IS MOM - WE'RE GOING TO TAKE A STEP BACK IN TIME NOW. I JUST RECEIVED THIS ENTRY FROM MAY!)

The road keeps heading off to the right. I'm all alone in the car, whirring along at a decent pace. Apparently, I won't have to worry about parking meters when I get there. I don't know where this thought came from, but I remember she said it now. I continue around the turn, wondering if there could be a better way to wear my hat.

A beeping in the car.

BEEP - BEEP - BEEP

My alarm. I turn it off and three seconds later I'm back into reality.

"It's 4 AM", I think to myself. I sit there for a second. It would be so easy just to go right back to sleep. But John Juan would be disappointed. And this is real.

My body feels less tired than it ought to be and I move around in my surprisingly chilly room with the ease of a full night's sleep.

I put on a couple layers of clothing - it's winter after all - and head out into the night. It never occurred to me that I would be very ALONE at 4 AM on the streets. All of a sudden, I feel scared and insecure, like a slowly moving glow-in-the-dark target. But the calm of the night and of my confidence in this town reassures me. It's different here.

I take the well-lit path nonetheless. When I hit the main road, I see people trying to sleep in doorways and entrances to shops. Aside from the signs in Portuguese, there's nothing visually to clue me in that I'm not in Cleveland any more. The familiarity is eerie.

I hit the road, taking a brisk left and as I see the sign for the padaria (bread shop), I realize that I'm actually doing this - I'm going to see the inside of the bread shop!

I met John Juan on the chapa to the other major city around here. He bought me a beer. I saw him back in town later in the week, at the bread store, and asked when I could get the grand tour. He wanted to practice his English, so he'd switch from Portuguese at every opportunity, demonstrating at least a 10th grade education.

He said 3 o'clock is when he checks in for his shift. To make sure he'd be around, I decided 4 was safer. I was fairly certain that 3 meant 3 AM because the 24-hour clock is used here. And he knew AM/PM, so he would clarify if necessary.

I arrived at the door, opened to a hallway, through which I could see and smell everything. My glasses fogged up, as expected. Several stacks of crates, full of bread, blocked my view of what was going on inside. I could see a few men walking around, directing this machine to press, another to grind. The smell was overwhelming.

I waited for someone to notice me, which wouldn't take long. Soon enough, an older man who didn't seem to belong, started speaking clearly, but in a rambling way about cigarettes, and displayed a used phone card. I asked about John Juan and he said that he had been called. The man gave me the used phone card, calling it some sort of promise for 2 cigarettes, and wandered off into the night.

I found someone official who told me John Juan doesn't arrive until 15 hours (3PM). Not wholly unexpected. I thanked him and walked back home.

I'm quite tired of thinking. I've been very sentimental tonight, remembering the coziest places I've been and how close all the people I cared about were to me. It's the closeness, physical proximity that ends up determining emotional closeness, that I miss so badly.

And so "mandzuko i sihu" (tomorrow is a day).

Peace

John

Saturday, August 16, 2003

07/18/2003

I ended up teaching a two-hour computer class at Charles' workplace today. All it required from me was some patience and being able to juggle two computers at once. It was fun, but I'm glad I'm not doing it for two years. I've had my fill of tutoring on computers, and doing it in Africa in Portuguese isn't really that much of a novelty to keep me going.

The three women I tutored today, thought, probably didn't know what hit them. All of a sudden some strange white secondary school teacher is taking over their lesson, usually taught by a Mozambican. And then I threw some Changana in, in the middle somewhere. They liked that.

Handball is tough - the "coach" (they call "coach" "mistah" here) likes for me to play...a lot. Most of the students will have a good 10, 15 minute rest, but I get at most 5 minutes. Maybe he feels like he's being disrespectful by not letting me play, but it's hard to explain that I learn just as much by watching the game (which is still a bit strange to me) and following individuals intently.

Nonetheless, it's a lot of fun and I hope I can stick with it.

A circuit breaker BROKE today. Broke. From overuse. Jorgito's uncle replaced it for me. So, I'm learning how to ask for help when I need it - in this case, rather than sending a few amps of poorly conditioned electricity across my body.

Peace

John

07/17/2003

I'm noticing that I write the date with month second, the day first. All of my "sevens" have crosses in the middle. All of my conversations begin with "Good afternoon. How are you? I am fine." I'm not surprised when I see my students carrying children...their children. It's no big deal to walk very slowly with someone just to have time to talk with them. Silence is becoming less awkward. I don't mind being called "white" in dialect. I don't have any reservation about calling them "black" in return, in dialect. I've learned to laugh at even the most grave things, like the death of a close loved one. Which means I've learned different laughs for different situations. I've learned how to say no, six, seven, twenty times to the same request. I've learned that the noise of children playing is often quite annoying, but at the same time beautiful. I've learned how to change my mind. I'm quite comfortable with not giving a lesson when there are no students around to give a lesson to. I'm comfortable explaining a complicated biological process with a water bottle, volunteer and a light bulb. I feel lucky to have the light bulb. I am starting to enjoy waiting. I like the smell of sun-dried clothing, not that I have a choice. I've found out more of what is basically human in under 10 months than I did in 24 years. Beyond language, I've learned few skills that I can put down on paper, but a host of skills that have already made me a better person. I look forward to returning home to the US because of people, but I dread going back to a place where I can't help out just by stepping outside my front door.

I was thinking about being cautious today. Not actually BEING cautious, but about what not taking risks really entails. Many people play it safe because they are afraid of reduced quality of life or even dying. Which is perfectly valid, of course. It's a natural animal instinct to want to stay healthy and alive. Moreover, we want to experience those things that can only come with time - births, graduations, weddings, etc. So there is always an urge to preserve your own life in order to experience these things.

But at what cost? At what point do you say that the experiences you're missing are not worth missing and start taking more risks? At what point do you realize that one year of playing it safe will give you one more year on earth, just to play it safe and save up for another year? How about one month? One day? What if you asked yourself if, in this very minutes, you wanted to put your health and well-being on the line in order to potentially enrich another life, and in turn your own, at the risk of an extra minute of well-being...or day...or month...or even year. "Is it better to live a slave or to die a free man?" We often live as slaves to our own mortality, which robs us of the very thing we call "living".

When taken as a whole, this question is grand. "Have I lived a full life?" When taken in the moment, it is on the surface unimportant. "Will I regret this?" But they are, in fact, the same question for me. When you face risks, face to face, you realize how every little moment is all there is. Even the big things are bunches of little things.

I'm living in a country that is dying. The average lifespan is below 40, approximately half that of an average American. AIDS, malaria, contaminated water and other natural calamities take the lives of thousands every day. I see yards with dozens of kids, but rarely dozens of adults. To not have a family, a large one, by my age is strange. So do people mope around, waiting for death? No. I was visited by an old blind man today, accompanied by a grandson. He asked me for "qualquer coisa", "anything". In the past, I've given him bread, but I hate handouts (in the end, how does it help? He'll only learn to beg more, and I KNOW he's got a family to take care of him...I'm here to help, not to distribute), but this time, I replied, "I don't have anything. I have things, but I don't have anything. What thing do you want?" We all laughed and he continued on his way.

People enjoy every moment here. And I don't hesitate to say that they live much more fully than do Americans caught up in what's going to hurt and what will help. Granted, there's a balance, but we worry too much.

Peace

John

07/15/2003

I didn't get very much done today, but I suppose I needed that.

I've been thinking about how artificial logic is and how relevant it really is to apply it to everyday matters. I suppose what I mean to say is that science is merely a refined set of observations rather than the basis for nature to act. We suppose that we can figure out how nature acts, but that assumes that there are laws inherent in every particle of the universe, which is a crippling and arrogant assumption. Who's to say that what we observe does not reflect only our means of observation? I think this is the basis of quantum theory, that the system is changed merely by observing it, and you can not observe it without changing it.

Getting back to logic...we use logic as a rhetorical trick and as a basis for making sense of our immediate surroundings. But as soon as we use logic, which is an artificial representation of the world (like doing physics without accounting for friction), to explain the very things that produced the logic, we run into invisible problems. For example, if I say that there must be 120 chemical elements because of the laws derived from atomic physics, this can be misleading because I'm using the very laws I derived from a system to explain the system outside of what is known. But we accept this logical conclusion because it keeps the knowledge simple and accessible. However, the logic derived is necessarily only a subset of the total logic possible.

So what's to stop me from saying that a fortune-teller down the street says there must be only 115 chemical elements, and that this is the truth because, despite all of her vague predictions, her science is just as accurate and her logic is just as strong. Her domain of knowledge isn't the same, but doesn't that just mean that science is misleading, educated guessing? If the Farmers' Almanac can predict weather on a par with a meteorologist, who's to say which is more logical, or scientific?

I think we overestimate our knowledge of the world, and more, we overestimate how much our mentors should state as fact. As a teacher now, I find it almost shameful when I don't know a simple fact, but the truth is that my students should be learning how to find the truth themselves.

The quiz I've been giving has been trying to specifically pull that part out of them and use it. I separate the class into 10 groups, giving each group 4 different questions, different from every other group. I let them use their notebooks, books if they have them, other groups, students, teachers, etc., except that they can't ask me anything. Even if it's something as simple as "I can't read this word", they have to ask someone else to help them and trust that the "truth" someone else sees is the same "truth" that I envisioned. And the way I wrote the questions allows for various answers, depending on how the question is taken. My refusal to frame their responses, by remaining silent, allows for this logical ambiguity to come to the foreground and maybe, possibly, show them that science isn't all yes vs no. And it's in this in-between ground where they are not only forced to, but made less afraid to, think.

I just wish it were possible to do more of these exercises.

Today, I miss long, purposeful train rides, playing baseball, summer (it's pretty cold here right now), just blending in, miles of quiet forest, my bike, a good selection of beer, tofu, snow (I know, how can I miss summer at the same time?), space heaters (yes, that's how), access to information and loved ones.

Returning, still about 17 months away, seems fantasy-like.

Peace

John

07/14/2003

More handball today. I'm getting to be pretty good, leaning on baseball, Ultimate and basketball skills. It's fun, but I want to try actually playing a game, versus training to play a game.

I'm going to end up teaching English where I was singing - they love me there to begin with, so I should have nothing but a good time. That, and it's close to home.

All of my projects are full speed ahead, which is quite exciting. I'm wondering how much I'll get done before the year is out.

Peace

John

07/13/2003

Diamentino was a pest today. He stopped by in the morning and just sort of leeched for most of the day. I like his company, but it was obvious he was bored and knows I've got entertainment. I'm just glad I don't have a TV. For many reasons. Our neighbors do, but they don't treat it like a member of the family. It's just there, and is A form of entertainment, but not the salve that it is in the States. It could be because the programming is weak and there's very little of it which is locally produced, but I think the culture is so social that it doesn't make much sense to watch TV alone...if that gives any clue as to where this is coming from.

It's a big deal that I'm staying in the house alone, not because of safety, but the fact that it's just not done that way here. I think Diamentino stayed here as long as he did simply because of that. Jorgito even came by an hour after he left, and we ate the cheese-less Eggplant Parmesan I made. It was delicious, and I made enough for two more meals.

I talked with Jorgito about getting drunk last night. He said he didn't really like it, but was glad he did it. He stayed up late, sobering up with his uncle and drinking plenty of water. It's really quite incredible how responsible he is. And though you might question a 17 year old's responsibility getting drunk essentially on his own, in the context of how alcohol is often abused here and taking the time to learn how to use it, he is in fact quite responsible.

He realizes that it is a social drug to be treated with care. I think alcohol, just like all mildly addictive drugs, is not inherently evil, but when someone uses it to try and make up for a lack of happiness, success or acceptance, then it very readily absorbs and then reflects the qualities it was taken to reverse in the first place. And, of course, when the focus of the event IS the drug, and not socializing or just having a good time, that's when problems start. My most uncomfortable nights have been a result of this goal-oriented drinking.

And so maybe he didn't have a good time because he was so focused on getting this thing out of the way. Maybe he needs to learn how to drink as a parallel social behavior, too...but I think he can wait for a while for that lesson.

I'm excited about playing handball tomorrow. I think I'm making good progress in breaking down the teacher/student barrier without having sex with the students or hitting them. Sounds facetious, but....well, I best keep it there.

And it looks like the English classes will start again soon, our of a school. I'm not going to disclose the location until I'm absolutely sure, but this could be fun.

Peace

John