Being sick in Mozambique is not fun. I had a fever for most of the day today, and the weather was at least in the mid-90's, anyway. I tried to move as little as possible, but it was still pretty painful. I took some ibuprofen which helped, and hopefully my fever has broken for good. It's often hard to tell whether it's the weather or my body!
Yesterday, I spoke with Iggy (a native Zimbabwean) about his country. It was very interesting. Apparently, there are a ton of problems, but things are still better than Mozambique.
I'm starting to get the hang of non-verbal communication such as gestures, hums and whistles. Mozambicans notice every little gesture that you make, so everything is subtle. You can wave goodbye by simply tipping your hand while your arm is completely relaxed. You can whistle at the chickens to keep them out of the house. The cobradors (ticket-takers on the chapas) use different whistling tones to signify "go" and "stop" to the driver.
I think the most interesting aspect of all of the non-verbal communication is that direct verbal communication is possible in every situation, but non-verbal is more meaningful. I find myself "mmm-mmm" ing a lot in conversation as the natives do. The "mmm" can mean a lot of things, from "I'm listening" to "I didn't quite catch that" to "Yes!". It saves a lot of brain power not having to say those things in Portuguese.
I was reminded again today how different personal space is considered here. I was sick, so I told my host father that I needed some rest. So I went inside my room, into bed, and shut the door. Seconds later, Sr. Bernardo knocked on the door, and he came in. He suggested that he bring a chair into my room so we can converse while I rest. I politely (well, maybe not politely) told him no. It's hard to be alone here.
And I didn't have much of an appetite today, either, especially for oily eggs. So I told my family I didn't want breakfast, and I thought they were going to shit a brick. I just couldn't bring myself to eat anything, and they acted like I was on my deathbed. Of course, for the rest of the day I was being offered food every hour on the hour. I think they got offended (or scared) every time I said no.
It's quite hard to be sick in Mozambique!
Peace
John
