More work at school. Incredibly confusing - amazing, considering that the work to be done was actually quite simple. All we needed to do was to find the grades of graduating students from past years, but it was made into a four-step, fully-documented and fully disorganized effort. I took charge at one point, basically showing the other teachers and secretaries what we had done wrong, how to fix it, then the best way to go about finishing things. I've avoided doing that up to this point, but I decided there was just too much clusterf... to stand.
I received news today that makes me wonder whether I really should be here in Mozambique - and what it's doing to people back home that I'm not around. But I need to keep on going and figure this one out.
(BACK TO THE TRIP...)
Saturday, November 1st
The guard at the hotel was quite happy to see us as he had washed the car - kind of - and got 10 Met for it (about 40 cents). It was still early, so we drove back and made breakfast in what has become my daily style of two eggs dropped into a frying pan full of onions, garlic, salt, curry and sometimes tomatoes.
At Oscar's, we ogled his amazing paintings, discussing what we interpreted from his work, while he explained what he meant. It's incredible how culture intensely affects the slightest detail of a painting. Still beautiful, just in a different way.
We visited Maria along with Blake and Dona Flora - (and though she seemed to be doing well, she's still in the hospital two weeks later.)
We enjoyed another restaurant meal, this time with Blake and Albertina. My mother found it interesting that Blake didn't translate for Albertina the whole time, but after having translated for two weeks from and to three languages, I think she understands how tiring it can be!
Sunday, November 2
We arrived in M--- a little after 9 AM, looking for a woman I've never met in a market I've never been to, and ended up going to a church service I never expected to attend.
Mom was looking forward to a church experience at some point to hear singing and see some traditional event rather than catered Africa. Well, we accidentally found it.
After asking for the mother of one of my students at the main market, we followed the messenger to her church where they said she had gone.
As we arrived at the rundown mud hut built for a very modest congregation, two empty chairs appeared at the side of some relatively important-looking people. By the fact that there was only one woman and she looked like her son, I was able to figure out where to introduce myself. I explained why we had come, and at roughly the same time, we began being greeted by a number of people, a number that far exceeded the capacity of the church, one by one.
We were presented with the agenda for the service, and at about this time, we started to figure out how quickly we had been made the guests of honor for this service. Quickly, our two chairs were up front and center, presiding over a hundred or so very curious Mozambicans.
The service started with prayers and about an hour of absolutely wonderful singing, translated roughly into Portuguese which I then translated into English. There was even a humourous piece about Cain and Abel, and later one about Judas before the crucifixion. Funny, being Jewish (technically...)
The entire scene was beautiful. Africans singing from their hearts and showing their true spirit in a house that water and sand built - it was indescribable how we felt to be so unconditionally accepted.
They asked for a few words and a prayer from us at the end. I offered words in a Portuguese/Changana mixture with help from our translator and skipped out on the prayer. Nonetheless, the room was quieter than any of my classrooms ever are, and afterwards, there was more appreciation on both sides than at the end of even my best lessons.
The reverend thanked us - praised us - for our excellent behavior and apologized to us for having to take care of menial church business, excusing us immediately. Incredible. We talked for a bit, then got pictures with the reverend - then the entire congregation poured out and posed perfectly. Good thing it was autofocus, because the tears in my eyes were making taking pictures difficult.
We say my student's mother's home, went to the dam and national park entrance, then returned to town to pick up a couple of guys who needed a ride back into town.
"Have you ever had an experience like that?" my mother asked me. I could only say, basically - no. Almost as if it had been choreographed. But at the same time, I've had lots of little experiences that speak to the selflessness, hospitality and respect that marks most 3rd world cultures and definitely describes Mozambique.
So as much as part of me would like to be with the people back in the States, spending another year here will be a pleasure and tearing myself away will be VERY difficult when the time comes.
Peace
John
