This weekend we received visitors from other sites fairly close to us, and had a good time hanging out, cooking and letting Dinho entertain us. We also statred having a palhota (hut) built for us in our backyard, right outside the door. It's going to be about 8 x 12', perfect for relaxing, doing work, talking or giving small lessons. The only problem is getting it built.
We put our neighbor Chico in charge of the whole thing as he is very motivated and well-versed in these types of things. He found someone, let's call him The Dude, to be in charge of the actual construction. With Chico and The Dude, we all sat down and eventually figured out the total material cost and labor costs. Nanosh did this, really, so I use "we" loosely.
The Dude seemed to forget exactly how much he was getting paid and disrespected Chico right in front of us (as The Dude is older, he deserves to, of course) while asking us for an advance of 200MT. He gave us his entire family history (My father is Indigo Montoya...) and didn't let us get a word in edgewise, so we stuffed some bills in his hand to get him moving along.
The entire time he was building - which is to say, the couple of hours - he was fairly disrespectful towards Nanosh and me, treating us like colonizers who couldn't give a rat's ass about Mozambicans, and also toward the younger (but still our age) Chico. We had promised some extra money for finishing on time, but as that clearly was not going to happen today, The Dude basically pawned the project off on Chico and some guy, let's call him The Dude Lite, to finish up. He said he had to travel or something. But the price stays the same, so we're still cool with it.
The Dude Lite hasn't been disrespectful to us, but it seems he doesn't speak Portuguese and though my Changana is getting better, I can't pick up on respect quite yet. Chico is working his ass off and really coming through for us for no anticipated payment. Needless to say, he'll get some money and a couple beers in the new palhota. In the meantime, we've got cement bags and large sticks sitting in our hallway.
I had what has turned out to be a disturbing dream a few days ago. In the dream, I'm back in the States, in a house, alone. It feels like I'm back in Connecticut, but hard to say. I walk to the bathroom and pour myself a (normal) bath. Getting in, I look out the window at a dark, lonely street with a few plain houses and no signs of life. I'm filled with incredible ease, but at the same time, disappointment. I begin to wonder when I can go back to Mozambique, then I remember that I had more school responsibilities and that my stay in the States was limited in any case. But that didn't ease the feeling of loneliness.
Everyone talks about how hard it is to go back and how they didn't see it coming, but I do. I totally see it and feel it. It's not going to be right away, but after a couple weeks, the novelty will wear right away and I'll want to be back, pushing myself to the limit.
I think what I'm most afraid of is being too comfortable. I don't think I'll ever be happy in a routine life, and that's all I see in going back. By the same token, I know I can make a big difference in many places not too far from home or from my friends and family.
Peace
John
