I don't want to say I'm once again embittered, but it would be hard to say that I'm all that happy. I feel like I'm stuck in the Peace Corps experience (redundantly, that feeling is part OF the experience) and not actually living. I feel like I only fit into one place here - school, and that is in a limited context - and the rest of my daily experiences are spent as an outsider because of religion, race, culture, personal decisions, money, educational status or simple personality. I truly feel that I cannot be myself happily here, and as I was happy with who I was before I left for here, I am afraid of permanently losing that, simply because I have to survive in this environment.
What's keeping me here? Well, there's sheer determination, pride, etc., but the only one that truly convinces me is the students. I understand, finally, what is meant when a teacher says they love their students. It's not because their students are these perfect, wonderful angels, or that they are always showering their teacher with love and affection. It's because we live in a very real world and school is all about what CAN be. You study to be something more than you are, you study material that goes above and beyond what you know or will ever need to know. And students ask questions that show they're not content with what you've presented. True, the vast majority of students (anywhere)just want to pass and get the piece of paper that says they did. But I love the students because I can be idealistic and hope with them, because they want to have the same hope about their lives. There's some carnal level of existence that we share which allows us to communicate in this almost artificial way - about this universe that will most likely never exist. I look at them and see them as housewives, truck drivers and farmers, but every once in a while I see a nurse or social worker. And, like them, I feel like I'm in the presence of something special and unique.
But then I step out of school, away from the hope and equally random harassment, and it seems that I'm in a heartless and harsh world. I've been in this mood plenty of times before, and I just can't bring myself to shake how foreign I feel. I know it's not just me. Almost all non-Mozambicans here in town feel this way.
What happened this time? Well, in Saturday, Nanosh, Jenna and I went to a barbecue hosted by Annie and Charles, attended by Alfredo, Oscar, Blake and Albertina, and Latifa. We made a wonderful combination of American grill-out food and Mozambican party food. Charles and I even got the balls up to kill a couple of chickens, and then Nanosh dressed them. Charles and I agree that killing the thing is a whole lot easier than plucking and cutting. Though I must admit that killing a chicken is something that neither I nor most people who know me would expect I'd do. But I told myself that if I were going to eat the thing again, I had to kil it at some point. I suppose it's poetic that I've finally come around to valuing my own life more than another animal's.
In any case, after dinner, at about 10:30, we were all sitting outside, having a wonderful chat, when Latifa shouts "Estao a (Mom can't read this word)!" from inside, alterting us to a robbery in progress. Charles, Alfredo and Oscar gave chase only to later come up with a muddy kid who ended up not being the one (but an accomplice, nonetheless) and Nanosh and I both lost our cellphones and I lost my wallet (nothing else was taken). Annie felt horrible, but all we could say was that we were lucky nobody was hurt and it could have all been a lot worse. Really, we just feel violated - mainly because it was Annie and Charles' neighbor.
Charles and Annie spoke with the two kids' father today and they determined that he would "investigate" but when it came to this evening, and Nanosh and I were there, we were basically given the feeling that he had done nothing. My thinking is that the father won't do anything, and we'll go to the police where even less will end up happening, because we're white and the system isn't there to protect US.
So, quite easily, we'll most likely be out money and cellphones (and a wallet I REALLY liked :)) which are just material items, but we'll be without them because we aren't members of the community and in some sense we don't belong here. Our Western idea of fairness is massively damaged, but more importantly, it rattles our desire to be in the middle of a city that essentially resents us. Kingston and (a name that Mom can't read) live in teacher areas in much more rural settings, only half an hour from here, and there's even some teacher housing for my school just a few minutes down the road. The temptation to get out into the middle of nowhere is huge.
In college, I was in an urban setting for 5 years, likewise here. I was born and raised in calm, quiet areas and I think it's really taken its toll on me. I need room to be and not feel cramped. I need to feel accepted by more than my roommate and a handful of other people who've been in other cultures. I hate thinking like this, because this whole experience was an exercise in putting away every ounce of selfish desire possible.
But maybe I've done that without the piece of paper. Maybe it's time to start allowing myself to be selfish again and take hold of what I need and give what I can to others. Maybe I've truly hit the wall.
I keep telling myself that this experience isn't about the "experience", about me, the US, Mozambique - it's about teaching. Whatever else happens is completely coincidental. If I can't be a good teacher, then what use am I? And when I look through that pair of rose-colored glasses, I get mad when people take advantage of me or treat me as less than human. All I want to be is a teacher - and the district puts us in a bat-infested house, the...enough.
As I said to Nanosh, the worst part isn't that I don't understand why we're treated poorly, but that I understand exactly why. And I have to say that if I were in the opposite position, I wouldn't necessarily be able to swallow it all. I might feel the same way.
So - enough.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow is the beginning of the trimesterly exams, and in a change for this year, we have lessons during exam week. I'm not quite sure how I feel about this yet. I think the ends could justify the means, or it could be really hard on the students. So for about half my classes, I'm giving reviews for the biology exam and in the other half, I'm offering my services in studying other subjects. I've got Bio, Portuguese, Chemistry, Physics, English and Math expertise that I can offer, and I think the students will take advantage of this (they really liked the idea of study sessions with me, anyway). So I'm excited to start helping them tomorrow and to try my hand at a few other subjects.
Well, I've come to the end of my 10th journal now, and this one has lasted about 3 1/2 months, probably the most uneventful stretch of my time here, but a great time for figuring out what I'm doing here. If the next journal should last 3 months, I'll be talking about the end of the second trimester and the "home stretch". And maybe it'll be cold by then (knock on wood!)
Peace
John
