Alison in Africa

Epilogue

2007-12-04T06:31:00.000-08:00

I am home--HOME, such a weird word. Actually, I am not home because I don't know where home is, but let's just say, for simplicity sake, home is the United States.

Home could be Boston for the next few years. It's where I am now and I like it (except for the frozen water that insists on falling from the sky). It is probably as different from Mozambique as I could get right now, and different is what I was seeking when I went to Moz, and different is still what I want. So despite all my instincts that fight against change, that scream "different is BAD! go back to what you know!" I find that I can't. I am different now, and I'm not quite sure what the "known" is. Africa has changed me, provided a much-needed perspective. Part of me is still there--part of me knows that Moz acted like a crucible for my character, burning away the fat, refining it. I loved it, and it was hard.

I hope to go back someday.

Unexpectedly, The End

2007-09-06T21:16:00.000-07:00

About a week and a half ago, I was sent home from Mozambique for medical reasons. Without giving any details, I want everyone reading this to know that I'll be fine, I was just medically unfit to stay in Mozambique. You'd be surprised what can get you kicked out, but when it comes to your health, you do the only thing you can. I will not be able to return to Mozambique with the Peace Corps, so for now, it's the end.

The transition home has been many things: painful, sad, fast, bewildering, overwhelming, relieving...you name it, I've felt it over the past few weeks. Right now, I am looking forward, and forward increasing looks east. Maybe not as far east as Africa, although I do hope to go back someday relatively soon, but maybe Boston, New York, or Washington DC. That's where the jobs are for me, and that's where my future is.

I keep doing funny things, like putting my shoes on to walk around the house, because that's what we did in Mozambique. Maybe it sounds stupid or silly, but I miss Mozambique all the time when I realize I'm doing things that have become habit over the past year--habits that don't make sense in life over here. I"m sure I'll slip out of them eventually, and back into taking for granted hot showers, air conditioning, good food, and driving!, but for now I'm savoring the weirdness of it all, and hoping not to forget.

Getting to Normal

2007-06-02T02:54:00.000-07:00

(Above: The road as you come into my town. My sitemates and I joke that there should be a sign that says "Road Ends in Ocean," but actually, it curves to the right--south--and you are on the main "street" of Inhassoro.)

So I was going to title this post "Getting Back to Normal" when I realized that, really, there is no "normal" here for me...so whatever I'm getting to will be the new "normal." And it's not like there's a "normal" Peace Corps experience or anything either...so we're talking what's normal for me in one little village washed up on the coast of Mozambique.

Ok, so to update the past few months. I finally returned to site at the end of March, only to find that it was the end of the trimester and I had to give finals, despite the fact that I hadn't been there to teach for most of the time. On top of that, our school was not yet repaired (and it still isn't totally), so we were teaching/giving tests in tents, with no chalkboards or really any control. It was sort of like summer camp. It was also exhausting. I have about 500 students, and I had to give each of them 3 tests over the course of two weeks...so if you do the math, that's me grading about 1500 tests. It definitely kept me busy, but it was hard (although sometimes hilarious as well, and not so bad once you get into the groove).

Katie and I are still waiting for our house to be finished. I will be really glad when it's done and we can move in--I'll finally have a place to settle in and unpack. And I know once we're settled, we'll have students over all the time, asking for help on homework or just wanting to speak more English. I plan to start a theater club for those who really like English and are good at it, so that should be fun.

The second trimester has been going smoothly so far. I've taught about health and nutrition, and part of the health component was on common diseases in Mozambique, which of course included AIDS. Talking with my students one day, I discovered that none of them knew the proper way to use a condom, although they all know that using condoms prevents AIDS and pregnancy....So that led to me giving a demonstration on an empty soda bottle on how to properly use a condom. It was pretty funny and also kind of sad...the kids have been given so much info so far about AIDS and how it spreads, but there is so little being done in practice. Either they don't have quite the knowledge they need, or they don't have the resources. But anyway, it was interesting and informative all around, and I felt one of those "Peace Corps Moments" where you think that maybe you are making a difference.

In the midst of all of this going back to site, waiting for our house, starting school again, I sort of had a break down. All the time away from site, all the stress of school, all the waiting for our house sort of culminated in a giant WHY...why am I here, why am I doing this? I thought maybe I was ducking out of "the real world" or missing out on something at home, something like getting a real paying job or figuring out grad school. And although I am still answering this question and probably will still be trying to figure out long after I've left, I realized that there is no one "real world," and doing the Peace Corps, for me, has not really been about "not wanting to have a life," as one of my friends at home so delicately put it, but rather about doing something different for a change. The "real world," the career and family and worries, the American dream (whatever that is), will always be there, waiting for me when I get home. Right now, I'm experiencing a different "real world," and learning that there are many facets to that phrase, and none of them is any realer or truer than any of the others. Right now, my real world is getting to normal, and it's pretty good.

Visual Aid

2007-06-01T01:59:00.000-07:00

So hopefully, these "visual aids" that I've developed in lieu of an actual update will help you all imagine my life over here a little bit better. Like they say...a picture's worth a thousand words.

Above: The main drag of Inhassoro. You are looking north. Over your right shoulder is the Indian Ocean. To your left is the bakery (where we buy bread every single day) and the "supermarket" (it's the building, that, if you look closely, has the Shell sign on it). Behind this bustling main street is the other market (the rickety stall one) and then the school. More pictures of that later. Straight ahead, the road curves, and you are headed up a small hill and out of Inhassoro. Later on in this day, those ominous clouds split open and the ocean poured down on us from above. It was amazing.

Our school, after the cyclone. It looks much better now. Has a roof at least, and all that metal in the front (the old roof) is now gone and being replaced by rocks and shrubbery.

The beach at Inhassoro. Don't be jealous. This is what Peace Corps is all about.

Me and my lovely roommate Katie, on the day we were sworn in as volunteers (also known as The Day Before We Knew What the Heck We Were Getting Into). Our town is convinced we are sisters. Hmmm...I wonder why.

More Later.

Love,

Alison

Bits and Pieces

2007-02-28T05:47:00.000-08:00

So. Been awhile. Much to say. Problem is, I don't feel like saying a lot of what I was going to say because last week a cyclone named Favio rolled into the Mozambican channel and right up the coast, coming ashore a bit south of my site and wreaking a terrible path of destruction. So terrible that people's homes and livelihoods (mine included) are temporarily ruined, if not completely destroyed. And so the thing is, even though I was preparing to post a bunch of stuff about life at my new site and the process of adjustment, I'm just not sure how much it applies anymore, not least of all because I'm not sure what exactly remains of my site.

For instance, I was going to write a whole post about my site transfer, because, really, Peace Corps doesn't transfer people. It's a very rare security or health issue that results in a site transfer...because Peace Corps assumes that if you're not happy at the site that you've been placed at, you won't really be happy in the Peace Corps. (At least, that is my impression of PC Moz). And by and large, they are right. There is a certain period of adjustment after getting to site, an overwhelming time when you first try to get food, then water, then figure out how to set up your household, then figure out how to interact with community members, etc, in a outward spiral of involvement. I think this is pretty overwhelming to do in the States for the first time, and so it is that much more difficult when you're operating under limited circumstances in a completely foreign place. So...to come back to the point, Peace Corps Moz does not transfer Volunteers for housing reasons, or roommate reasons, or lack-of-beach reasons, or any reason other than a threat to safety or health. Peace Corps would not have moved me from Angoche simply because our housing situation was not what was expected. They moved me because an opportunity came up for two schools to still receive two teachers, and that is that. Unfortunately, for me, although my site and my roommate and everything is glorious, it was an extra period of adjustment to transfer from one site to another, and I was going to write a post about it. Something along the lines of: Peace Corps Moz doesn't transfer people because your site is your site unless something drastic happens. They know you get attached to that site from the moment you are assigned to it, and they know it is generally more disruptive to move a Volunteer than for that Volunteer to work out whatever housing/roommate/general adjustment issues might occur. So I had wanted to clear that up.

I was also working on another post about our community's reaction to having two (three really, I have a sitemate at another school) foreigners plopped down in the middle of it, claiming they were going to live there for gasp! two years! and teach in the secondary school! etc. It was going to be a rather witty post (I was hoping), along the lines of "Newsflash! Aliens Take up Residence in Small Coastal town of Inhassoro, Mozambique!" and discussing some of the various reactions we've had, from outright disbelief (you're lying!) to welcome, to asking for money or water or books, to simply hanging out on our front porch, shooting the shit.

Then, I was going to write something about the marketplace in Inhassoro, which I visit nearly every day, wending my way through the rickety stalls to buy tomatoes or onions or pasta. The marketplace is the heart and soul of many an African village, and Inhassoro's is no different as a place to buy food or a new tshirt or a beer, or simply a place to chat with neighbors or catch a glimpse of the latest episode of a brazilian soap opera on the tv that someone has rigged up amidst the lean-tos.

And finally, I wanted to tell you all somthing about The Other Side, or How I'm Becoming a Teacher. Because going from student to teacher is difficult. I never quite realized how hard teaching is, or how much preparation goes into each lesson, especially a good lesson. And things are particularly trying when you don't have things like textbooks or photocopiers (what I woudn't give for a photocopier!) and the maximum exposure that your students have to the English language is the 2 and a half hours they spend in the classroom with you. It can be hard to figure out how to motivate the kids under such circumstances, let alone keeping oneself motivated. By and large,though, it was a challenge I was enjoying.

But all of that was blown away, literally and figuratively, in the first major cyclone to hit southern Mozambique in (I think) five years. My house is the least of anyone's worries, but it too was destroyed, along with all the clothing, books, and pictures I left behind when we were evacuated. It may take awhile to rebuild, and that's ok, because the people of Inhassoro are busy rebuilding their own homes, salvaging what's left of their farms, and trying to figure out how to move on when their already hard existence has just gotten that much harder. Until then, it's bits and pieces.

Switcheroo

2006-12-29T01:08:00.000-08:00

So, while others are undoubtedly already integrated into their sites, I have yet to see my own. I fly there later today, though, to be greeted by a houseful of people who have descended upon my humble abode for the Ano Novo festivities. Somehow, this is fitting, seeing as how I just hosted 12 of the Volunteers in the north at my house for Christmas. If Ano Novo is as fun as all that was, then watch out. There will be some serious dancing and making merry going on.

Kidding about the integration part above, but these last few weeks have been strange in terms of trying to settle in to site. I got to the point where I just didn't know how much more I should invest emotionally in Angoche, because I didn't want to love it too much before I left it. Having the other Americans around distracted me from that, but they're a good group and leaving them was hard. Most of them I won't see for at least a year.

Luckily, the group I'm going to is awesome as well. That's the great thing about Moz 11: it's an awesome group of people in general.

That's all for now...I will be posting more about life at site once I actually get there.

Moving Forward

2006-12-17T22:32:00.000-08:00

So, although it was weird to make the decision to leave Angoche, and I almost renigged after realizing that I could deal with the housing situation and I like Angoche, I am still moving down to Inhassoro. I'll be in Angoche until a few days after Christmas, and then...to the beach!

A few words about Angoche: when wikipedia describes it as a dried up old Muslim trading post, they weren't kidding about the dried up part. Not literally, of course; Angoche sits on a beautiful bay and oddly enough faces west, so the sun sets over the water, making me feel like I'm not on the east coast of Africa but on the west. It's a little disorienting but also gives the town a certain otherworldly charm.

The town itself is very big. There are a few neighborhoods of old Portuguese-style houses...very similar to Namaacha, in fact. And then there are the bairros (Portuguese for neighborhood), where most of the people live. They are full of life and children, running barefoot on the sand between one thatched hut and another. The bairros have tall palms and a vibrating pulse, due mainly to the loudspeakers blaring music all the time (provided the electricity doesn't go out...).

When you drive into Angoche, the first thing you see is a wide, semi-paved road with a divider of trees and benches down the middle. This road is lined on one side with shops and on the other by a small hill. Over the hill is the secondary school, the bairro Pule, and the main Portuguese part of town. At the top of the hill is a beautiful view of the Indian Ocean (you can see where the bay meets the ocean...it's where the water becomes calm and the whitecaps stop) and various islands with white beaches that dot the bay. On the other side of the street, behind the shops, are more shops and the mercado, where most daily interactions take place. There is also another bairro of Portuguese houses and concrete/mud huts. Interspersed, and somewhat hidden, throughout each bairro are other markets...windy places with stall upon stall of capulana material (basically bright cloth for wearing/other uses), buckets, clothing, soap, and various foodstuffs. Stepping into one of these is like stepping into a labyrinth, and I could get lost in one all day.

If you follow the wide main road all the way to its end, you come to the bay, a calm place where locals troll their small sailboats for fish, crabs, prawns...you name it. There are benches there, perfect for sitting and watching the sunset or just catching the sea breeze and thinking, and a monument to Mozambican heroes.

I am sad to leave this beautiful place, where the women walk by nearly entirely shrouded in bright capulanas, in accordance with their Muslim faith, and where everyone is so friendly, so interested in the strange Americans who have come to live for two years. But, as I told the placement officer before he even placed any of us, I could go anywhere in this country and be happy. This way, with my transfer and the other Volunteer coming here, each school that sorely needs an English teacher still gets one. I came here to serve, and this is a perfect opportunity to do so. I think I can live with that.

Place Redux, Or Let's Try This Again

2006-12-15T02:16:00.000-08:00

So. Last Friday all of us Peace Corps Trainees swore to uphold the Constitution and defend it against all enemies, domestic and foreign (weird, eh? we take the same oath as the president and the military), and thus became Peace Corps Volunteers, ready to begin living and working in Mozambique. The next day, my future roommate and I boarded a plane for Nampula, and on Sunday, after five hours in the school's bus with all our luggage and our directors, we arrived at our site, as you know, a place near a bay called Angoche.

All was not well. The house that had been approved by the Peace Corps was no longer available, but no matter, there was an apartment for us. We didn't like the apartment, though, and thus began the search for a new place to live.

Meanwhile, down the coast about a thousand miles, another new Volunteer was having trouble with her supervisor, and things culminated yesterday in her decision to ask for a site transfer. Our situation also culminated yesterday when we were told we had one more option for living and if it wasn't acceptable, we too would be transferring sites.

We saw the house today. It's fine, just needs a little work. However, I've decided to go ahead with a site transfer, taking the spot of the girl down the coast while she comes here to live. It's nothing against the house, or the town, or our school directors. In fact, I love this town already and our school directors have bent over backward to accomodate us in every way they could. No, what would kill me would be the waiting. We'd have to wait one or two months for the house to be finished, at which time we'd also be starting school as we'd be trying to move in. So, since there was the opportunity to move, and since it worked out so agreeably to all, I decided to go ahead and move. The house there is all ready and waiting, and I know the girl who will be my roommate and I think we will be like two peas in a pod. Another big transition will be hard, but weighing it against the interminable waiting (which seems 15x as long when you're up at 4:30 because it's too hot to sleep anymore and there's nothing scheduled to do so you fill your time trying to get to know the community but it's just so damn hot all the time that all you can think about is how much you're sweating and how much you'd like to have a house to distract yourself with, because then at least you could paint or something...), well, yeah. This is a good decision. My colleauge needed a new place to live, her roommate needed a new roommate, and I needed to get settled as quickly as possible. For awhile, I thought I could be patient and wait, but after waiting over a year to even join the Peace Corps and then waiting through training to get to site, I don't think I could wait anymore. I need to start already, so that's what I'm doing.

The new site is called Inhassoro, in the province of Inhambane, in the south. Google it for some fabulous pictures. Here's hoping it all works out.

Placed

2006-11-27T06:33:00.000-08:00

Two words: Angoche, Nampula. Two more: beach site. Woot.

Anyway, something you all can do for me, since I have zero time and even less money, is use your superfast internet to research my site for me and email me what you find. Obrigads! (portuguese for "thanks!").

The next two weeks will be pretty busy, and on December 9th I fly to Nampula. Basically, what I have to do now is learn the local language (some variant of Swahili) in case they don't speak Portuguese there (fairly likely), try to buy stuff for my house, and try to figure out how to get my stuff up there.

That's it. Hope the holiday season is going well back home.

Tchau,

Alison

But it's not all chocolate and cheese over here...

2006-11-18T01:17:00.000-08:00

I know I've been posting a lot about my own transition to life over here, and I think that it's a legitimate topic for me to talk about. After all, it's hard to leave everyone, establish new ties, and try to live in a completely new culture. In the same vein, it's easy to get caught up in talking about that, in continually posting about how great it is to eat cheese. It's also easy to get caught up talking with the other Americans about stuff we miss, like yesterday when we expounded for half an hour about why Costco is so wonderful. That type of stuff is fun, and necessary to help us cope.

But life here in the last week has thrown me for a loop. Two people in our community have died senseless deaths, deaths that probably wouldn't happen in a place with more resources. The first was actually one of the men who rents a room out of our 'dependencia' (extra house) and works over at a construction project across from my house, helping build a school. I first met him a few weeks ago when I was doing my laundry in the stone basin in our courtyard and he came up and got a little bit in my face. It was Sunday, his day off, and he's obviously had a few beers. He asked me about myself a lot and it became apparent that he was harmless, just interested in the American living nearby. I saw him a few more times after that, and a few days ago I waved goodbye to him as I left to go teach in model school.

Later that afternoon, when I was walking home from model school, I saw my host sister downtown, and she told me the bad news: there had been some sort of accident at the construction site, involving the crane and a bunch of concrete blocks being dropped. Our renter happened to be below the blocks, and his condition was grave. He was taken to Maputo, about one and half hours away with a broken arm and cuts to the head.

I found out the next day that he died during the night.

Obviously, this has affected me. I knew this man, and he was a good person, working here in Namaacha at one of the only jobs available to support his family in another town. Of course, things like this happen in the States, but in a town this size in the States, the hospital would have been able to handle his injuries. I keep thinking about that last morning I saw him and about the random nature of life.

The other case, though, affects me even more. The neighbor of one of the other trainees went into labor the other day and went to the hospital to give birth. But there were complications and she needed a cesarean section--something our hospital can't do because it can't get sterile enough. So she had to be taken to Maputo, but since there are only two ambulances for the hospital, they had to wait to see if others had to be taken to Maputo as well. In the process of waiting, she and her baby died. She was twenty-two.

It's these types of things that remind me that even though I am doing fine here and can focus on finding things I like to eat from the States, there are real and serious problems that need to be addressed. The woman who died was my age, and she didn't have to die. Lack of resources and bad luck dictated her fate, and she perished because of soemthing almost completely controllable. It's frustrating to realize that and to not know how to even begin to address it. But I just wanted you guys to know that what's happening over here is larger than anything I can write on this blog.

Now with pictures...

2006-11-17T00:57:00.000-08:00

My host sister Neida. She takes good care of me.

Nuria, Cintura, Me, cousin Vagnar.

My host brother Cintura. There's a lot of posing going on in Mozambique.

Walking around Namaacha.

My host sister Nuria. She's four and completely adorable.

Like when I became a vegetarian, only different...

2006-11-15T07:53:00.000-08:00

So anyway, I know you guys are dying for details over there, as I know I was when I used to read other PCVs' blogs, but I've been struggling to figure out how to communicate all the differences as well as the similarities, because, really, some things aren't that different. There are paved roads here, for instance, and some places have flush toilets. More generally, people still eat regularly here (five times a day!!!!), and they bathe, and work, and wash their clothes. It's just the manner of it that is different. Instead of stepping into a hot shower each morning, I heat up some water in the stove, pour it into a bucket in the tub, and pour bucketfuls over my head to clean myself. Really, it's not that different--you stop noticing it after awhile.

So I came to the conclusion that living in Africa in some ways parallels my decision, four years ago now, to become a vegetarian. From the outside, it looks as though I'm depriving myself, that I'm doing something maybe a little out there, a little crazy. And in the beginning, it did feel like a deprivation to not eat meat: I missed it, I craved it, I thought about eating it. But after awhile, I stopped missing it. And not only that, but something else happened as well: I began to be more satisfied with the choices I was making, foodwise, simply because there were fewer options. Some of my vegetarian friends and I have discussed this, especially with regards to restaurants. Before becoming a vegetarian, I sometimes used to hem and haw about what to get at a restaurant, trying to decide what to order out of many possible things. After I became a vegetarian, I would look for the one or two item I could eat, and then order one of those. And, by and large, I was happy with my choice, happier choosing between two than between twenty.

Living in Africa is the same way for me, so far at least. Options are fewer, but that makes choosing easier. There are fewer things to do here, so playing cards for an afternoon becomes a treat. There is only Laughing Cow cheese in my town, so going to the capital for a pizza is a big deal, and so delicious. I only have five books to read right now, so I enjoy them, because I enjoy reading. It's like that: intangible and satisfying. Now, I'm only hoping that when I get back to the States in two years, I can remember how to do this. I'm hoping I can still be satisfied amidst all the choices.

Mozambican Time

2006-11-08T06:06:00.000-08:00

One of the first things we learned about when we arrived in country was the idea of Mozambican Time: that things sometimes take much longer in Mozambique than we Americans are used to. If you’ve been checking this blog regularly for updates, and found it lacking, I do apologize, but I blame it on the fact that I’ve become accustomed to Mozambican time. This is a Mozambican blog, after all.

But in all seriousness, I’ve been a little wary of updating this blog until I had a better sense of what was going on here, with me and in Mozambique in general. The first few weeks here were hectic, and if I wrote something here, I risked rushing to conclusions or making stereotypical judgments about Africa in general and Mozambique in particular. I needed a little time to process, to normalize what’s going on, and to not make blanket judgments based on what happened one day, one week, or one month.

That said, it’s hard to believe I’ve been here over a month. Suddenly, things are seeming normal, things like taking a “chapa” around, jammed in with many other people, or looking forward to going to the capital because I’ll finally get to eat something with cheese on or in it.

At the same time, I feel like I’m still processing what’s going on around me, and I’ve only just begun to learn about Mozambique and Mozambican culture. I feel as though things are happening faster than I can keep up with them, so I didn’t want to write anything. But, here it is anyway, some thoughts about my time so far in Mozambique, staying with a host family.

Staying with a host family is inherently difficult, especially when we come from such different cultures with different ideas of independence and family, but all in all I think I lucked out. I have a host sister who’s about my age who understands that I need to leave every once in awhile, go visit friends, walk around, etc. She also takes care of my every need: cooking food that I like, heating the water for my bucket baths, letting me be alone in my room when I need that. It’s a little much sometimes, but I really appreciate all that she does for me. My younger host brother and sister are adorable and I like to play cards with them. They think my Portuguese is funny (which it is), and they are generally full of life and fun. I enjoy them a lot.

My host mom, I think, doesn’t quite know what to do with me. I don’t speak Portuguese well enough to understand everything she says, but she’s finally started to slow herself down to make sure I understand the gist. And it’s true that she’s never had a foreigner staying in her house before—or at least not one like me, and it’s an adjustment process all around. And it’s temporary, so we’re all adjusting just to eventually go our separate ways. I think the homestay, though, is a good idea for Peace Corps volunteers in terms of us learning lots about the culture in a very short time. I appreciate it, at least, as a way to ease into life in this foreign land.

Besides interacting with my host family, my days usually consist of language class and technical training about teaching English. Sometimes we have a session about medical stuff and keeping ourselves healthy and safe in Mozambique, and sometimes we learn about HIV/AIDs here and how to integrate that into teaching English. Recently, we’ve started having sessions about starting boys’ or girls’ clubs at site, and I’m really excited to get to work on something like this (called a “secondary project”). Gender roles and expectations were important and interesting to me in the States, and it’s exciting to know that I can try to bring that to what I’m doing over here. And what am I doing over here? That’s a question I ask myself every day, and the answer changes almost as often. Today, I’m excited to live in Mozambique for the simple fact of being here and experiencing it, to just say that I did it.

First Impressions

2006-09-28T13:09:00.000-07:00

So I'm here. I made it. I'm staying in a very nice hotel in Maputo with 54 other volunteers, and after the disaster with my missing Peace Corps passport in New York (they told me I couldn't get on the plane becuase without the PC passport I didn't have a visa, but then they relented and I got on, harried and anxious, at the last minute), I'm very glad to be here. I have to say, I don't really feel yet like I'm in "Africa," because all I've seen so far is the inside of hotels and a little bit of Mozambique on the van ride here. My first glimpse of Africa was as the sun rose over Senegal, and then we took off for another 8 hours in the sky and all I saw was clouds and the backs of my eyelids. And last night in Johannesburg we weren't allowed to leave the hotel, for our own safety, so I pretty much saw nothing there either. Nice hotel though. Picture white buildings and red tile roofs.

Tomorrow we start officially training for the Peace Corps. I guess we've technically been "training," but tomorrow we officially start learning Portuguese, so I'm going to count that as the beginning. I also received four semi-painful shots this afternoon. We're here for only three days, and then I move to an area just outside Maputo called Namaacha and meet my homestay family. I'm hoping that I have a lot of siblings there because that's what I'm used to.

From what I've seen, Mozambique is beautiful, as everyone assures me it is. I don't want to sound superstitous or overly dramatic or anything like that, but the overwhelming feeling I've had so far on this trip is one of peace and that this is right. It feels good, and it feels right. And now, it feels like sleep.

Packing List

2006-09-24T21:43:00.000-07:00

I got the idea to post my packing list from other volunteers' blogs, and I think it's a surprisingly interesting read. All the gear I'll need for 2 years, on my back? Wow. (Well, except for cooking stuff, which I'm supposed to buy there.) In total, I think my gear weighs close to 100 pounds, maybe nearer 110, and I'm regretting (a little) some of the things I considered essential just yesterday. (A day of hauling stuff around an airport changes the view on what's essential pretty quickly. Shampoo? Nah, can buy it there.) Without further ado, here is an approximate list of everything I'm bringing:

Clothing:
-Shirts: 4 short-sleeve button down; 3 long-sleeve button-downs; 4 t-shirts; 1 zip up fleece; 1 pullover fleece; 3 tanktops;
-Bottoms: 2 pr pants (1 jeans, 2 work); 3 pr. Capris; 4 skirts
-4 dresses
-Raincoat & longer poncho
-pyjama shorts and t-shirts
-capris to “work-out” in and some old t-shirts
-20 pr. Underwear
-8 pr. socks
-2 hats: one straw with a wide brim, one visor
-2 pr. prescription eyeglasses
-2 pr. sunglasses
-a few pairs contacts (to try out)

Shoes:
-running shoes
-low-top, waterproof hiking shoes
-2 pr. Walking mary janes for work
-tevas
-flip flops

Gear:
-jump rope
-1 fleece blanket and 8-degree liner
-small compressible pillow
-thermarest sleep pad
-6 luggage locks
-knives: 1 swiss army knife, one leatherman micra
-10 carabiners, assorted sizes
-mini sewing kit
-1 small maglite and 1 headlamp
-batteries: lots of AAs, some lithium
-2 nalgene-type water bottles
-2 rolls duct tape
-1 wet bag
-assorted pens and papers; journals
-1 pr folding scissors
-travel alarm clock
-crank short wave radio
-1 watch
-bath sized camp towel and 1 washcloth
-playing cards
-hand crank shortwave radio

Fun/Entertainment:
-Canon A620 Digital Camera with 2gb memory card
-Ipod & headphones
-4 frisbees (to use and give as gifts)
-Books: Portuguese/English dictionary & 501 Portuguese Verbs; Africa: A Biography; A Complicated War: The Harrowing of Mozambique, The Brothers Karamazov and Crime and Punishment, Middlemarch, Great Expectations, The Golden Notebook, The Blind Assassin and The Handmaid’s Tale. I also shipped myself a box of books, and feel free to give me recommendations.

Toiletries:
-face lotion
-2 deodorants
-8 razor blades and 1 handle
-2 toothbrushes
-1 bottle toothpaste
-nail clippers, big and small
-small mirror
-tweezers
-bottle of motrin
-2 bottles spf 30 sunscreen
-intense bug repellent, both liquid and wipes, courtesy of my aunt and uncle
-bottle body lotion
-shampoo, conditioner, and body wash (1 bottle each)

Paper stuff:
-spiral bound notebooks and few legal pads
-aerograms
-small photo album
-2 maps (Africa and The World)
-postcards of Reno

Food Stuffs:
-6 bottles cooking spices
-energy bars
-powdered Gatorade
-tic tacs and pop rocks to give to kids

All packed in large ziploc bags in one large rolling duffel, one kelty frame-less backpack, and one medium size duffel bag. I also have my computer. Already a mistake, perhaps, but we'll see.

I have an address where I can be reached for the first three months (and all throughout service, although I'll be there less frequently), so if you think I've missed something or just want to send me a letter, please don't hesitate to mail it direct to the address below (U.S. Postal Service is actually fairly inexpensive too).

Alison Vicks, PCV
Corpo da Paz/U.S. Peace Corps
C.P. 4398
Maputo
Mozambique

Weighted down in Philadelphia,
Alison

Upon Departure

2006-09-23T12:26:00.003-07:00

Today I leave for what the Peace Corps calls "staging," a three-day event in Philadelphia that will consist of meeting the other volunteers who are going to Mozambique (yay ice-breakers!), getting some shots, and getting some last minute safety and cultural information. On Tuesay evening I fly to Africa, and I arrive in the capital of Mozambique on Thursday afternoon, where I go to a retreat and then begin ten weeks of language, techinical, cultural, and safety training. If I survive that, I'm then sworn in as an official Peace Corps Volunteer (PCV from now on), and I move to a site to teach English for two years.

I'm excited and nervous--nervous when I have the queasy feeling, excited when I don't. I'm posting a bit about Mozambique in a bit, when things aren't so hectic.

Bem-vindo, as they say in Portuguese.

And counting....

2006-09-12T17:14:00.000-07:00

Where I'm going: Mozambique

In a few short days, no longer able to count it in weeks, I'll be in Mozambique. On the 23rd of this month I leave Reno for training in Philadelphia, and on the 28th of this month I arrive in the capital city of Mozambique, Maputo. Below are some pictures of what I can possible expect, much as I'm trying to keep my expectations to a minimum.

Photos, in order
1. Maputo, Mozambique, built up by Portuguese conquerors, who occupied the country for 500 years.
2. Where I'll take vacations (or perhaps I'll be lucky enough to live by one of these):
3. This photo is called African Moonrise, but I think perhaps it is the sun behind there:
4. The questionable state of what I'll get around on.
5. And, what, perhaps, my living accomodations will look like.
6. And, finally, here's hoping that I see many beautiful ones of these.

2006-08-28T14:31:00.000-07:00

hello