Sometimes the person or people that need your help the most are the furthest away. Sometimes you're right there. And in either case, your proximity doesn't correlate necessarily with your ability to help.
Sometimes I question whether I am a person who is seeing the world from behind the glass. Just watching, but not really being affected by what's going on around me because of how it might change me adversely. Sometimes I wonder if other people are seeing the world this way and if they can see the glass. And so I wonder if I can get them to break down that barrier.
Sometimes I wonder if people realize the world beyond their own, that it's not as idyllic as it seems and it's not as dreary as it seems. But I just want to help people get to the other side of the glass so they can discover that for themselves.
And sometimes I can't do that explicitly, so I have to do it by example and just hope others come along for the ride.
We ate dinner at the house of the woman whose son is in the US. They live in a collection of mud huts on a dirt compund that also houses a flatbed truck. The husband works for a company shipping things back and forth in Moz, but because people spent too much during the holidays, he hasn't had work.
They made us dinner: "grilled" chicken, cabbage and eggs, onion and tomato salad, and french fries. They didn't have filtered water for us, so we received Cokes, then tea afterwards. The four of us (me, Blake, Blake's sister and Blake's girlfriend) sat at the table - a plastic table and chair set provided by the main furniture supplier in Moz. We were cooled off by a fan without the front guard, plugged into an exterior outlet (in the mud hut) - by separating the wires and plugging them directly into the fixture. We could see the sun setting, creating a beautiful pink glow on everything. Children popped in and out from everywhere, just to see the strangers and to laugh. Not at us, but just for the sake of laughing. And they play just to play. Not to get out of chores, not out of boredom. Because they love to play. And so I watched them play after I played with them for a while. I felt like I was on the other side of the glass, but not long enough to experience the bad side of things. As a perpetual guest here, you're not allowed to see what's seen as Moz's faults by Mozambicans. Not yet, at least.
I realized today that I need to learn Changana soon, and that it won't interfere with my Portuguese. I'm finding it difficult to communicate with people, and I'm not completely convinced that it's because my Portuguese isn't great - it's that I'm trying to teach myself a more elevated version of the language than people speak here. But there aren't any books to learn Mozambican Portuguese. So it'll just take time.
However, when you even touch on Changana, people light up. I feel little slighted that we haven't officially learned a significant amount of the local languages, because even though I can speak with people, I still feel like a stranger.
And it's not because I'm white, American or new.
And so, on the forays I make to the other side of the glass, it's hard to stay there speaking Portuguese the whole time. In fact, it seems impossible.
But my mind isn't really stuck on this whole breaking down of barriers. I wonder if I chose the wrong time to leave for the people who already count on my help.
At the same time, it's hard to imagine going back before I've put my 100% into things here. Even if it does sometimes feel like everything's falling apart, I know people understand me and the things I feel I have to do. Maybe I'll have to start over when I get back, but I won't have to make the same mistakes.
Hopefully I'll get to check Email tomorrow and it will get me back on track. Because I can do SO much here, I'm starting to learn how, and I'm starting to have the means.
I guess this is a matter of barriers, it's just that this one I can't see through to the other side.
Peace
John
