A Rough Start

The first day of classes this year was February 4th. I was scheduled to teach 11th grade ciencias and letras and 12th grade letras.  In Mozambique, there are two tracks (three at some schools but two at ours) when you get to 11th and 12th grade.  Every student must choose a track to graduate with.  Ciencias is the science track so along with portuguese, english, and other core subjects, students take biology, physics, and chemistry.  They have 4 hours of math per week. Letras is the letters track so they take core subjects along with history, geography, and french among others that I'm probably forgetting.  Letras has 3 hours of math per week.

Last year I taught 11th grade ciencias and letras: 3 turmas of ciencias and 1 turma of letras.  I found the difference between the two tracks absolutely shocking last year.  My letras students were SO far behind with much less understanding of the basics of math, though all of the students finished 10th grade together so should have had about the same levels of math knowledge.  I struggled in teaching letras because I had trouble moving from one topic to the next when over half of the class still wasn't understanding.  This got me in some trouble with my colleague who encouraged me to give homework to catch them up and continue to follow the curriculum and rush everyone through it.  Regardless of what my colleague said, I couldn't ignore over half of the class, and I also couldn't just give homework to catch them up or they would just copy the one person that knew how to do it.  Consequently, I didn't finish the curriculum last year for my letras turma and ended the year teaching them how to add, subtract, multiply, and divide integers.  At the end of the year maybe 50 percent of my students could get 8/10 integer operation problems correct.  And I called that a win.

So let me repeat:  this year, I was scheduled to teach 11th grade ciencias and letras and 12th grade letras.   Immediately, I had some reservations about teaching 12th grade letras.  The 12th grade curriculum includes limits, derivation, and integration.  Does that sound like something that students that can't do simple integer operations have any business learning?  It sure doesn't to me.  Thinking that it would be best to be honest about the situation, I approached my pedagogical director with the issue.  I explained that the curriculum is way too difficult for the level of the students, and with the letras especially there is just no way that I would be able to finish the curriculum.  I suggested if the curriculum was super important to him, that he give my turmas of 12th grade letras to a different teacher.  As we were in the middle of our conversation, the other 12th grade teacher butts in...

It just so happens that the only other teacher for 12th grade math is my douchey colleague that I have written about in the past (and is the colleague referred to above).  I think last time, I called him Fred.  So let's go with that.

Fred is the worst.  Seriously, though.  He asks me for all my work, asks me for money, sleeps with students, takes bribes, basically he's just everything that's wrong with the educational system in this country.  Lucky me for getting to work with him, right?

So he butts into my conversation and basically hijacks it, saying "Don't worry, Director, I'll deal with her and let you know what happens."  Nice, right?  After reliving the incredibly frustrating "just give them more homework" conversation that we have had approximately 10 times, I finally told Fred that I refuse to teach 12th grade letras if they are going to be mad at me about the curriculum.  I suggested that instead of teaching 11th grade ciencias and letras, and 12th grade letras, I would teach both 11th and 12th grade ciencias, and he could teach 11th and 12th grade letras.  That would give us the same amount of hours, and teaching 12th grade ciencias would be at least a little easier because the ciencias kids like math more and in general understand math better.  My ciencias kids from last year had also come up to me furious that I wasn't their math teacher.  They threatened to go on strike unless it changed.  As well as making me feel good about myself, it made me want to be their teacher again even more.

Of course Fred wouldn't accept that.  I don't know why, I was trying to make his life easier, but he insisted that I was trying to make things harder on him somehow.  After two days of being frustrated to tears (literally, I cried at school the first two days of this year...and even had to go home the second day because I was so mad...), my pedagogical director eventually decided that my suggestion was the best possible solution.  They didn't want to just give my 12th grade hours to Fred, because then they would have to pay him more and I'm free labor so that would really make no sense.  So moral of a long, long story, I'm now teaching 11th and 12th grade ciencias.  And I have to say I'm happy about it!

The first day I walked into my turma from last year, I got a round of applause and some cheering that could apparently be heard from two rooms away (Sarah could hear them where she was teaching).  I literally felt like a celebrity.  It made me smile and made me realize that maybe this year will actually be okay.  I was doubting it for awhile with the whole Fred fiasco.

But along with my happy ciencias students, there were also the very disappointed letras students who felt abandoned by me.  Let me make this clear, my intention was not to abandon my letras students.  Some of them work extremely hard and really want to understand math, but I just knew I wouldn't get through the curriculum and thought being honest would be for the best.  Maybe that wasn't the best choice.  I'm still not sure.

Some of my letras students have been to my house multiple times since the school year started for math help, which I encourage.  I just don't like the reason why they've had to come here.

Apparently Fred hasn't been doing much teaching.  The first day of class, he walked into the classroom, wrote 5 problems on the board, and walked out.  My students didn't know how to approach the problems at all, they had no instructions, so they came over.  I helped them work out the problems and that was that.  I got another visit from them last week with a similar situation.  They had no explanation and more problems to do.  This morning they came over again.  Fred had given them one example in class and gave them two homework problems that they had absolutely no idea how to do.  After showing them my notes from my lesson and explaining how to do the problems, they were content to have some sort of understanding of the material.  Then they presented me with a three page packet of questions from past national exams.  They told me that the packet is due on Monday.  Now, I also gave this packet to my students, but the difference is that these students hadn't had a lesson in class about almost all of the material in the packet.

I told them that it would be impossible to do the packet without at least a few more lessons, but they insisted that Fred made the packet due on Monday.  I asked them to ask him for an extension on the packet, and they looked at me and started laughing.

"Why are you laughing?"  I asked
"Because...you can't just ask for an extension."  One student said.
"Why not?" I asked
"Because he will just fail us." The other student answered.
"Then why don't you go talk to the pedagogical director about him?"
"Because he will find out and then fail us." They answered again.
"So...what can you do?"
"Just accept it.  And ask you for help."
"Well what about if I say something to the pedagogical director?"
"No, teacher.  He will find out.  He will fail us."
"So I can't do anything to help you?"
"No, you just have to accept it.  That's how it is here in Mozambique."

There are really no words to express how I feel about this system that makes it impossible for students to help themselves or even for other teachers to help them.  The only thing I can do is sit and watch.  And teach these two students who are obviously the only ones in the turma that care about learning math and not just copying the answers from someone else.  That is another reality of the situation that makes me extremely sad:  everyone else in the turma clearly has no idea what's going on, but they don't care enough to ask because they know they can just pay to pass the class.  It's just so wrong.  But what can I do?  Teach the ones that come to me.  And teach them without someone to break this cycle of corruption, it will just continue.

These students are scared to speak up, but without speaking up, how can changes be made?  Not that changes would definitely be made, but they definitely won't be with students scared into silence.

The worst part is that I absolutely believe them.  Fred would find out.  He would fail them.  And they don't deserve to be failed.  Of the entire turma, these are the ones that deserve to pass.  So what do I do?  How do I proceed?

Well I told the students to do as much of the packet that they could and to come on Sunday so I can help them with the parts that they can't do.  I also told them to come to the first meeting of the school's new Math Club that will be held on Monday morning at my house.  I'm excited to see if students actually show up.  If so, I'm hoping to pair up ciencias students that are very good at math with the letras students that struggle and set up tutoring.  That way, ciencias students will be able to practice explanation skills and letras students will benefit from the explanations.  I am also hoping to do logic puzzles and exercises to have a little fun with math.  I taught some students to do sudoku last year, so maybe I'll introduce that again.

All I really know at this point is that even after almost a year and a half in country, I still have many struggles here.  For the next year, I hope I have the patience to put up with Fred and I hope to help the students as best as I can.

Something else that I know for sure: when I leave in November I will be giving my school strict instructions. If they get another Peace Corps Volunteer to teach math, they WILL NOT be working with Fred.  Not that I can verify that they listen to me, but I can try my hardest to make my voice heard.  And I promise you, I won't be sitting around silent and permit other PCVs to be used in the same way I've been by him.  Luckily my school director's a reasonable man, and I actually think he'll listen to me.

Wish me luck for the rest of this year.  I can tell it's going to be a tough one.

Ferias

In Mozambique, December is the tempo de ferias or time of the holidays.  I did mine up well with my visit from my Mom, sisters, and Jamie to Mozambique followed up by my three week vacation to the land of all the food, people, and delicious drinks I've been dreaming of for the past 15 months.

 Well, let's back up.  All the way to Thanksgiving.  Sarah and I hosted Thanksgiving in Messica.  We invited everyone nearby to come over and eat delicious food and just hang out as our central Peace Corps family.  Coesao!  It was so much fun to show off our site!  After our turkey finding and killing adventure on Wednesday, on Thursday everyone showed up ready to eat, and we feasted away!  After our dinner we took a walk around Messica, and ended up at the school where we tossed around a football for awhile in the field.  Everyone around thought it was hilarious to see a bunch of white people throwing around and dropping a weirdly shaped ball.  Eventually our small circle evolved into a bigger one with some Mozambicans thrown into the mix.  They really enjoyed tossing with us, even if some of us -- mainly me -- were not so good at throwing.  Though I must say, I improved a lot as we continued tossing!

Everyone at the waterfalls of Namaacha

A couple of days after Thanksgiving, I flew down to Maputo to meet everyone.  My flight got in around 11 am and I sat around in the airport for what felt like eternity until 2:30ish when Mom, Frances, Claire, and Jamie came out of the international terminal.  Our hugs were a little awkward with all of our baggage on, and a little short-lived because our ride to the hostel was already taking bags and whisking us away to his van.

It was a quick and scary ride for the new-to-Mozambique Americans in the car.  I was used to the crazy driving of Mozambicans, especially in the city, but it's not something normal to the average American.  After putting our stuff down and settling in, I made water and bank runs, and eventually we headed off to dinner.  Immediately after dinner, we all headed for bed, excited for the next day's adventure: Namaacha.

A little Ohio love from Mozambique!

Since my family refused to get in a chapa, I organized a private car to take us to Namaacha.  After a leisurely breakfast, I called our ride to pick us up.  He appeared shortly after and proceeded to drive at a snail's pace to Namaacha.  No joke.  It was ridiculous.  It took us close to three hours to drive what should have taken us an hour to an hour and a half.  I arrived in Namaacha with mixed feelings, thrilled to see my family (and Walmer!!), pissed about how long it took us to get there, and extremely hungry.

The visit in Namaacha was great!  My family's meeting was absolutely surreal, but made a little difficult with the language barrier.  I did my best to translate important things, but I am by no means a translator and had never tried to translate before.  Regardless, my Mozambican family had provided a feast for my American family that truly showed off the Mozambican hospitality that I love so much.  I feel so blessed to have the opportunity for my families to meet and it was truly an experience that I will never forget.

My host sisters Veronica and Dadinha, Claire, Mae, Walmer and I, Frances

The following day we spent in Maputo at the craft market, and exploring the city a little bit.  It was nice to have a day to relax before more travelling the next day: on to Beira.

Neck pillow toss...it's a thing now.

On Wednesday morning, we had our flight scheduled for Beira at 7 am.  We got to the airport around 5 to make sure there wouldn't be any complications, since I was the one speaking for our whole party.  After checking in and waiting around for a few hours the flight was delayed, now to depart at 11 am.  When 11 am rolled around, the loudspeaker came on yet again: cancelled.  Our flight was cancelled.  We were supposed to be arriving at the beach that day.  We were in trouble.  I raced down to the desk and was one of the first in line to get on the next flight: at 9 pm that evening.  All of us got on the flight, so we set off to a long day of...waiting in the airport!  By the end we were going stir-crazy, mom and I had invented a game of neck pillow toss, and the restaurant in the airport had run out of food.  We had to get out of there, and around 11pm, we finally got on our plane and went to Beira.

Arriving after midnight in a city that I am not familiar with was not ideal.  Arriving during a political parade because the newly elected mayor was on our flight was not ideal.  And furthermore shoving ourselves and all of our baggage into one of the tiniest cars of all time to get to our hotel was not ideal.  But we did it, and we made it to our hotel, got into our hotel rooms (with air conditioning!), and fell asleep after a long and stressful day.

Rio Savane Beach.  Simply gorgeous.

Thursday morning we woke up, went shopping for food, and went immediately to the beach.  When we arrived at the river that we had to cross to get to where we were staying, we were told we had to wait a few hours for tide to come in for the boat to be able to cross the river.  Waiting: every American's favorite thing to do.  Eventually we made it into our chalet, and were instantly happy to be in our own space with the gorgeous view and nearby beach.  We stayed at the beach for 6 days.  It was absolutely beautiful and I can't wait to go back this year.

When it was time to go home, one of my pedagogical directors from school picked us up and drove us to Messica.  We stopped in Chimoio on the way to eat lunch at one of my favorite spots and to see the Peace Corps office.  We finally arrived in Messica in the afternoon.  I was stoked to be home and to finally be able to show my family what my actual life in Mozambique is like!

Claire, Mom, Otilia, and I in Messica.

Messica was by far the best and most rewarding part of the trip for me.  I got to see my family interact with my family in Messica.  My family in Messica absolutely LOVED having my family there and received them extremely well...as if there was ever a doubt about that.  My best friend Otilia made us dinner the first night where my family was intrigued to eat gazelle for the first time. It's delicious, by the way.

The next day, my church had planned a big ceremony for the highlight of the trip: turning the statue of Mary and rosary twine over to the Legion of Mary, who up until that point had not had a statue of Mary.  One of my neighbors, Mama Berta, and the rest of the Legion had been planning the party ever since I mentioned the statue to them, and they were so excited about the entire evening.  They sent us a car to pick us up at my house, greeted us at the church with singing, and planned an entire prayer service and following reception for us.  I did some translations throughout the prayer service and introduced all of my family members to the church.  Then the gifts were exchanged.  For my family:  capulanas and lencos (the traditional Mozambican wrap/skirt and head covering).  For the Legion of Mary:  a two foot statue of Mary, twelve rolls of rosary twine, and a prayer book for each of them.  There was crying, dancing, hugs, and praising Jesus, and I couldn't have been happier or more proud to be an American living in Messica, Mozambique at that moment.  Pure joy, pure bliss, pure blessings from God.

Some ladies dancing around Mary and the rosary twine
in thanksgiving.

Claire, Frances, Jamie, and Mom with their capulanas and lencos!

Some of the Legion of Mary of Messica.

The table for the reception after the prayer service.

On our way to Casa Msika.

Our final full day in Messica was spent at a resort called Casa Msika about 7 kilometers from my house.  They have a pool, a restaurant, and some animals, and it seemed like a great way to escape the heat.  It was a great day to spend the rest of the day with my family (and my best friend Otilia came too!) in Messica.

Saturday had finally rolled around again and Jorge was taking us back to Chimoio to the airport.  We had a terrible case of deja vu when our flight was delayed and then cancelled that evening.  The next flight would be the following day; one flight in the morning with limited space, and one in the afternoon.  Our problem was that the day after we had our flight to Ethiopia and continuing on to DC, so we had to make it on the morning flight or we would have been stuck.  Luckily, I made a friend at the airport and told him that we were going to America and he said he would vouch for us and said that we should have priority.  In the mean time, Mozambique's airline put us up in the nicest hotel in Chimoio.  I had looked in the lobby of the hotel before, but had never dared to go inside.  SO NICE.  I was so happy to have a hot shower, comfy bed, and a nice meal.  Literally, it was the cleanest I had felt in 15 months since coming to Mozambique.  I was still nervous about the flight situation the next day, but I tried to make the best of it.

Leaving Messica.  Me, Otilia, Frances, Jorge, Claire.

The next morning, the day of our flight, I got a text from the airline saying:  "This text is to inform you that you have been place on the afternoon flight."  And that's when I started freaking out.  I immediately called the number that had texted me and frantically explained to them our situation.  They claimed to understand and asked for all of the names that needed to be on the first flight.  After hanging up the phone, I immediately sent a text with all of our names written out confirming that we were placed on the first flight.  When I got a text back saying "yes" I was able to relax a little.  But not much.

We decided to go to the airport on the first shuttle anyway since we were already awake and we figured there would probably be some confusion.  We were very right about the confusion part.  So many people crowded around one desk as the one clerk called out one name at a time to print boarding passes for the morning flight.  No semblance of order whatsoever.  Frances, Mom, Claire, and my names were called out towards the beginning and together, which made us feel a little better since we had boarding passes in hand, but Jamie still had none.  I waited with her for what seemed like ages, still in the cluster of people, until her name was called.  When we had her boarding pass in hand, we took a breath of relief.  But we still had to wait for the airplane to show up...and then take off.

Frances and I boarding the plane to Maputo...finally!

Eventually we made it to Maputo and had about 2 hours before our next flight to Ethiopia.  In Ethiopia, we had about an hour before our long flight from Ethiopia to DC, with a stopover in Rome.  That 17 hour flight turned into more like a 19 hour flight with some problems with the plane, and when our stopover took longer than expected.  I didn't mind, really.  The flight was glorious compared to the transportation I am used to in Mozambique.  I slept most of the time, and just woke up to see the Vatican all lit up while our plane was taking off from Italy.  Not too bad, huh?

In DC, I got my first Starbucks in 15 months, and we parted ways with Jamie, who was flying back to California.  I would see her a couple of days later, so it was only a brief separation.  Eventually it came time to get on our last flight to Dayton!  Back in Ohio after 15 months!

First Starbucks!

I'm not going to describe my visit home in detail.  It was a great trip.  I honestly couldn't have asked for anything more.  I had three days in California visiting my babies, a week to spend with my family and to get to know my nephew, and about a week in Columbus to visit friends and enjoy Ohio State sports again.  It couldn't have been any more picture perfect, and I am so so grateful to my parents for making it all happen.

Three weeks after arriving in America, I took my leave.  I wasn't as sad to leave as I'd thought, I was ready to come back to Mozambique and finish out my service.  I love my life in America, but I also love my life in Mozambique.  They are very different, yet they both have molded and changed me into the person that I've become through this PC experience.  I was relieved to know that my life in America was still there when I got home.  My friends were still there, family was still there, and piece of my heart was still there.  Even knowing this, things back at home have changed, just as things in my life have changed.  I've formed a home in Mozambique.  I speak Portuguese.  I have a different outlook.  I have a new normal.  And yet I slid back into my old normal so easily.

New Years Eve in Columbus with my besties!

It's going to be different when I go home for good.  I will never forget this experience, these people, this country, and I will find a way to merge that with my America life.  But for now, I have a Moz life and an America life, and I'm stoked to be back in Moz and start the next school year.

So for the next week I will be in Maputo for my group's mid-service conference.  We have made it more than halfway!  School starts at the beginning of February, so I'm gearing up for another year of teaching, another year of making mistakes, and another year of students trying to cheat by whatever means necessary.

I hope everyone has had a blessed and renewing holiday season.  I know I have!

Have a blessed new year!

The Spirit of Giving

Last Saturday I went to the market in the morning and bought some flip flops.  When I arrived home, I used capulana scraps that I had to cover the straps of the flip flops, and put a flower made of capulana in the middle.  My host sister in Namaacha taught me how to make them, and I decided to try to make them for a few people for Christmas.

After sewing the flip flops, I decided to make them for someone else as a gift, so I returned to the market to buy another pair in the afternoon.  The same man was selling flip flops because I returned to the same stall. As I chatted with him, he asked why I was back so soon, what did I do with the other pair of flip flops.  I had a picture of what I’d made on my phone that I’d send to my mom, so I quickly showed him my handiwork.  He gasped and called out, “São tão bonitas, pa!” (They are so beautiful!)

Just as he exclaimed how beautiful the flip flops were my friend from church, Bernadette, walked up.  She wanted to know what we were talking about and I quickly filled her in and showed her the picture.  Bernadette agreed that the flip flops were tão bonitas and she said that she wanted a pair.

It was then that I got a business proposition. 

“You have to make me more of these so I can sell them!  People will want to buy them!  They are so beautiful!”

“But I can’t make money off of these, sir. “

“That’s fine, you can just give them to me!”

“No, I also don’t have time to sit around and just make you flip-flops all day.”

…then an idea popped into my head.  I recalled that awhile ago, Bernadette had asked me if I had any work at home because she was looking for a job.  She was still standing there, so I looked over at her.

“Bernadette, can I teach you how to make these capulana flip flops?”

“Yes, mana Ana I would love learn how to make them, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to!”

“Trust me, if I can make them, anyone can make them.”

**Everyone laughs at the white girl that can’t sew**

“Okay, this is what we’re going to do:  we’re going to take two pairs of flip flops, and I will teach Bernadette how to make them.  Then she can bring them back and you can pay her for the work she’s done and you can give her more flip flops to sell.”

And that’s how I took two pairs of flip flops to my house (for free!) and set up a lesson to teach Bernadette how to make them.  Last Wednesday, she came over and we each made a flower and each covered one flip flop.   She loved how easy they were to make.  I gave her supplies, instructions, and the flip flops and she took it all home to finish the other pair.

On Friday, I got a call from Bernadette. 

“Mana Ana, I noticed when I was in your house that you and Mana Sara don't have a fridge.”

“Nope, we don't.”

“Well I have an extra one at home that I was thinking that you could borrow.  We aren't using it now and my husband says it’s okay if you take it to your house to use it.”

**stunned silence**

“Would you be interested in using it?”

“Yes, Bernadette, we would love to use it!  That is so nice of you!  Thank you!”

“You can come see it on Sunday afternoon.”

“Okay, we will call before we come.  Thank you again!”

So this afternoon, Sarah and I went over to Bernadette’s house and checked out our soon-to-be fridge.  It is huge and glorious and I am so grateful to her for offering to lend it to us.  Now we have to arrange transportation for the fridge to get to our house, and someone to come put coolant in it so that we can use it…hopefully all before Thursday when we will be hosting Thanksgiving in Messica.

I am so happy with this series of events.  Bernadette will hopefully be able to make about 25 meticais (just under one dollar) from each pair of flip flops that she makes.  She told me today that it took her about 10 minutes to make one flip flop, so that means she could make about 3 dollars an hour.  Not bad for someone who has been looking for work for months.  Hopefully she will teach others how to make them as well and be able to share the business with others struggling to make ends meet.

It is such a blessing to know people that give passionately without thinking twice.  They are such an example to us all.  Bernadette didn't need to call us and offer her fridge, but she did it without thinking twice.

My favorite thing that Mozambicans say that I've heard more times than I can count is:  if I give what little I have, God will only rain down more blessings upon me.  If people in the United States were as hospitable as Mozambicans and had this same philosophy, there would be no homeless, hungry, or lonely.  Everyone would feel the love that comes from being welcomed into a home.  I’m so grateful that I get to see this love firsthand, and I know that I will never forget it.

Site Visitors and National Exams

Last Sunday we received a visitor in Messica from the most recent group of Peace Corps Mozambique trainees.  I was there myself a year ago, and it’s extremely hard to believe that I’m one of the “experienced” volunteers these days.  Our visitor’s name was Ellery, and she will be an English Teacher.  Their group will find out their site placements this coming week, so that’s super exciting for them! 

So our job was to show Ellery the life of a volunteer.  Sarah and I were super happy to be able to show off Messica, what is said to be the best Peace Corps site (from other PCVs too, not just Sarah and I). 

Sunday night, we hung out at home because it was rainy and, let’s be honest, there’s not anything crazy to do in Messica on a Sunday night.  Monday morning we woke up and Sarah headed to the school to check the schedule for National Exams.  We had requested a few weeks early not to proctor exams, and miraculously, they actually listened to us!  Sarah returned about a half hour later with the news that we would only be correcting exams (had no idea what that entailed at the time) and we had the day free!  Yay!

We took Ellery to all of the sites: the market, calamidades, Otilia’s house, the modista, the school, etc.  Everyone was super curious to who the other muzungu walking around was, so we introduced Ellery about 7 bajillion times.  On Monday night, we received some guests in Messica.  The site visitor from Chimoio, Steven, and my friend Anna who lives in Chimoio came out so that Steven could see a more rural Peace Corps site than the city of Chimoio.  We walked around Messica for a little while and made a delicious dinner of pizza, salad, garlic knots, and chocolate chip cookies. 

On Tuesday morning, we woke up and went to Manica to go on a hike.  Our plan was to hike Mount Vumba, the source of central Mozambique’s bottle water supply.  Sarah and I had been by the Vumba plant before in Manica, but we had yet to climb the mountain.  There were 6 of us (3 visiting trainees, 3 volunteers) that wanted to go, so we headed to Vumba to ask permission to climb the mountain.  After the guard led us to an office, we talked to a man told us that we needed to write a formal letter asking permission and the director of Vumba would have to sign off on it before we were allowed to climb.  I was the lucky winner elected to write the pedido, so I got to work and about 5 minutes later had something decent enough to turn in to the director.  Unfortunately, the director had left, so we were stuck either sitting there waiting for him (which could have taken hours and/or days….literally), or killing time in Manica.  After deciding on the latter and walking approximately 30 feet outside of the compound, we got a call saying the director had returned!  It was a Mozambican miracle!  So we turned right back around and headed to the office again.  He granted us permission to climb after doubtfully asking if we would be able to chegar (arrive). He sent us with a guide, which turned out to be a great help as he filled up our water bottles at the source of the Vumba water and showed us lots of cool stuff that Vumba uses for water purification.  When we got to the main source of the water, it was gorgeous but didn’t have a great view of Manica, so we chose to keep climbing for about 15 more minutes to see the city from the top of the mountain.  So worth it.  The view was absolutely beautiful and the breeze was glorious.  After a nice cold beer and some chicken for lunch, Ellery and I headed back to Messica.

Wednesday morning we were beckoned to the school bright and early to sit for quite some time with nothing to do (surprise, surprise).   Eventually we were called into the director’s office to help with the process of correcting National Exams.

Let me tell you, it was a process.  National exams are given at the end of 10^th grade (to progress to 11^th grade) and the end of 12^th grade (to graduate).  The 10^th grade exams are free response, while the 12^th grade exams are multiple choice.  Since the 10^th grade exams are free response and there are way more 10^th graders than 12^th graders, 10^th grade exams are much harder and have much longer of a correction process.

The 10^th grade exam grading process:

1.  Coding the exams.  The same code has to be written on the tests, and the part of the test that is detached with the students’ names.
2.  Cutting the exams.  The students’ names have to be cut off the tests because if the grader can see the students name on the test, they will be able to raise their grades, or write correct answers on the tests.
3.  Locking the exams.  All empty spaces on the answer sheet must be locked.  This means that you have to go through each test and scribble or draw lines through the empty spaces, so that it is noticeable if something has been written after the student turned in the test.
4.  Correcting the exams.  Twice.

So guess who was responsible for numbers 1-3 for all of the 10^th grade tests for every discipline?  Sarah and I.  There were a few other teachers helping as well, but what a long and tedious process that could be avoided if the school system wasn’t so corrupt here.

The 12^th grade grading process is much more straightforward.  The tests are basically done on scantron sheets, so each test must be graded twice.  I am also on the team for grading 12^th grade tests, which we will hopefully finish up tomorrow.  The rest of the week will be spent compiling 12^th graders’ grades and recording them on pautas and in the computer.

And I thought provincial exams were bad…

Luckily, I won’t be around to deal with the second round of national exams this year or national exams at all next year.  Thank God for small favors.

In other news, 3 weeks until some lucky Brandts and a Vanvolkinburg are in Mozambique.  Can’t wait to see this.  Can’t wait to hug them.  I. JUST. CAN’T. WAIT.

…And everyone else in Messica is pretty excited as well.

Prayers

Two weeks ago, my friend Otilia came over to my house to borrow some nail polish.  I sat on my esteira (bamboo mat) with her as she started painting her nails, and eventually took over for her and started doing the painting.  As we were sitting there, somehow our conversation moved to the civil war that ended in  Mozambique 21 years ago after 16 years of conflict and fear.

I asked Otilia where she was during the war.  She is 40 now, so she was a child/teenager during the years of the war.  She told me that she lived in Beira and witnessed things that she would never forget.

For example, she told me stories of RENAMO soldiers entering a house, holding a father at gunpoint and threatening to kill him if he didn't take advantage of his daughter.

Another story was that of a soldier on school grounds holding a professor at gunpoint in front of a class of students and forcing the professor take of all of his clothes.

The last story that Otilia told me is something that happened to her aunt.  She was forced by a soldier to take off all of her clothes, lay back, and spread her legs.  Then soldiers took dirt and sand and shoved it up inside her.  Using a pole, they packed the sand and kept putting more until her aunt could no longer stand up or use her legs at all.

Otilia has scars all up and down her legs from walking for miles upon miles in the dewy grass trying to outrun RENAMO soldiers.

I was in tears listening to these stories.  My heart breaks knowing that my Mozambican friends and family were put through this only 21 years ago.  And these stories only make the reality of the current political tensions in Mozambique that much more terrifying.

Over the past couple of weeks, there has been a lot of political tension and unrest between the majority party in Mozambique, FRELIMO, and the opposition, RENAMO.  RENAMO has officially ended the peace accord that was signed at the end of the civil war. This does not necessarily mean that there will be another war but it does invoke fear in many Mozambicans, especially those in close proximity to the areas that have been targeted with RENAMO attacks.  With local elections coming up on November 20th, many Mozambicans fear that these attacks will continue and perhaps escalate over the coming weeks.

Though not many have died in the attacks, Mozambicans in targeted areas have fled their homes in fear. Other Mozambicans are terrified to travel outside of their towns.  These attacks are unpredictable and random, invoking fear of traveling (and even living) in Sofala province.

Don't get me wrong, where I am living in Messica is COMPLETELY safe.  I feel comfortable and safe at site.  But it is devastating to think about what would happen if things escalate further.  I don't want to leave my friends, family, and students.  It would break my heart to see Mozambique head back down the path to war, and I pray with all of my heart that doesn't happen.  Analysts say that war is unlikely.  I pray that they're right.

But regardless of if a war breaks out or not, Mozambique is in need of prayers.  Even with no official war these small attacks are causing citizens to live in fear.  They are fleeing their homes. There are random people that are being injured and dying in the crossfire in attacks on the national highway in Sofala.  This is no way to live.

Pray for peace in Mozambique.  Pray for successful dialogues and uneventful elections this November.  Pray for all of the Mozambicans that have fled their homes and are living fearfully in the bush.  Pray for all of the Mozambicans that have witnessed traumatic scenes from the war that will be with them forever.  Pray that they will never be forced to witness them again.

Cheating, Church Dance Parties, and Calamidades (my Mozambican life in a nutshell)

The past couple of weeks have been busy with the end of the school year and other festivities.  Two weeks ago I gave my last tests of the year to all of my turmas.  As you may have expected, it didn't go so well. 

Testing is one of my least favorite things about teaching, especially in Mozambique. Mozambicans know how to cheat.  Some of them aren't as good at it as others, but they all try.  Some succeed.  Some fail.  I despise it all. 

This trimester, I gave my tests on Wednesday/Thursdays.  I had one ciencias turma on Wednesday and two others on Thursday.  The test seemed to be going okay in the first turma I gave it to, until I realized that one of the best students in the class was writing all of the answers down on the corner of his scrap piece of paper.  These scrap pieces of paper are THE WORST.  All of the students want to use them, and I leave them space on the back of the test, but they just hate “dirtying the test.”  They will complain to no end if I don’t let them use scrap paper, but scrap paper is a Mozambican teacher’s worst enemy when it comes to testing.  Students pass them back and forth, sending the answers.  They’re just the worst.  Anyway, when I saw this student writing down the answers, I made a mental note to make sure to collect his scrap paper when he turned in his test.  By the time he came to turn in his test, there were only a few students left in the room.  He brought me his test, and I asked him for his scrap paper.  When he turned it in, there was a chunk of the paper gone, conveniently where all the answers he had written down were.

“Where’s this piece of the paper?”

“I don’t know teacher, another student gave me the paper to use and it was already missing.”

“No, I saw it on here earlier, and you were writing down all of the answers.  Where is it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about teacher.  That part of the paper wasn't here.”

“You’re lying.  Give it to me.”

“I don’t have anything, teacher.”

…

Until he eventually reached into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper.  On one side was written ‘Prova A’ with all of his answers, and on the other side ‘Prova B’ with all of his neighbors’ answers.

This was the chefe da turma; the person who is in charge of the turma, and who is an excellent student in math.   I didn’t even know what to do with myself.

“What were you going to do with these?”

“I was just going to take them home to remember the answers.”

“Don’t lie to me.  What you’re doing is so ugly, do you realize that?”

“Yes, teacher.”

“The year went so well and this is how we’re ending it.  How?  Why did you do this?”

“I’m sorry, teacher.”

“I want to cry right now, just leave.”

That’s basically how it went.  I was so disappointed.  I wanted to quit.  I wanted to cry.  I wanted to crawl in bed and never come out.  Unluckily for me, there was a whole other day of testing in front of me.  It seemed to go smoothly in my first two turmas (until I got home and realized half of one turma cheated), and then I got to my third turma.  Everything was going well, until one student came and turned in his test, followed by the dude sitting next to him.  They turned in the same test.  I purposely alternate tests to keep the students from cheating. 

“Joaquim, come here.”

“Yes, teacher.” 

“Why do you and Felix have the same test?”

“What do you mean, teacher?”

“You turned in the same variation of the test.  You were sitting next to each other.  How did this happen?”

“I don’t know, teacher.  That was the test that you gave me.”

“Okay, well you’re lying because I never would have given you the same test.”

Just then the third person sitting at their desk turns in his test which is, conveniently enough, the same variation.  They all traded tests while I was passing out the tests so that they could cheat.  Later, while I was grading, I found out that 4 separate desks of students all had the same variations.  I also found out many students from that turma also cheated.  (I know when students cheat because they have at least 5 points higher on the test then what I think they’re capable of getting.)

I didn't know what to do.  I felt defeated by the Mozambican education system.  I felt disrespected by my students.  I just wanted to go home.  Then I got an idea.  I decided that if the students really knew the material of the questions they got right, they would be able to do it again in front of me.  I selected two questions that the students got right on the test, and the next class called them up individually to solve them.  If they solved them both correctly, their score would be maintained.  If they missed one, they would have 25% of their grade taken off.  If they missed both, they would have 50% of their grade taken off.  The students didn’t know what I was doing or why I was doing it, and I didn't tell them until the next class when I handed back their tests.  Some admitted to cheating.  Many denied it, though they clearly had no idea what they were doing.   Mozambique, you are so frustrating!

Saturday October 12^th was Professor’s day in Mozambique.  I went to the praça with Sarah in the morning.  After the usual festivities of placing flowers on the plaque for the praça dos herois and cultural activities at the praça, all of us teachers headed to the soccer field for the face-off between the secondary school professors and primary school professors.  They had uniforms and everything!  It was so official!  After my colleagues finally understood that I would not be participating in the game, I watched half of the game, and spent the second half eating gelo (flavored ice/a popsicle) in the shade and talking to the school’s director.  It was such a hot day and they were playing this game from 11-1.  Who’s idea was that?

After the game, we went to the school for refreshments.  All of the teachers said they would prefer to go to the school right after the game instead of going home to take baths first.  Sarah and I went to the school, and in true Mozambique fashion the rest of the teachers took about an hour to get there. By that time we would have been able to go home and eat lunch, but we thought we didn't have time.  Silly Americans.  Anyway, we stayed long enough for me to drink a beer with our colleagues (and get extremely tipsy from it due to lack of food), and then headed home to eat lunch and hide from all the drunks.  Later, we found out that they were at the school until 7 at night and then went to the bar to continue the party.

The next day, I got up for church -- like normal, and a mãe came to get me for mass – unlike normal.   Normally, I just meet everyone at church, but little did I know, this was a special day at church.  I helped some mães carry a pot to the church, and they explained to me that we had a lot of visitors in Messica for mass and a big party afterwards.  I didn't really understand the occasion, but I also didn't really need an explanation.  I was just happy to be part of it and happy to have a full church and a priest in Messica!

Mass was indescribably wonderful.  I understood the message of mass, because it was done in mostly Portuguese, and I could understand the Polish priest extremely well.  All of my favorite mães were there.  There was so much joy in the church despite the ridiculously hot temperatures.  The priest initiated a dance party at the end of church before the blessing.  It was my favorite mass thus far in Africa, and just what I needed after the rough week of cheaters and feeling discouraged.  After mass we had lunch at the church, and I got to talk to the priest, sisters, and other mães from church.  The priest spoke fluent Portuguese, local dialect, and English, so I was pretty impressed.  He was visiting from Sussendenga, but I’m planning on going to visit him sometime because he was awesome.  After lunch, all the different visiting groups danced and sang individually, and all of the máes from Messica gave me a capulana and made me go up with them though I had no idea what I was doing. I caught on pretty well and was told I dance well and need to buy a capulana matching theirs so I can officially be part of the group. J

This past week was my last real week at school.  I went and told the students their averages for the trimester and for the year.  I worked on grades and dealt with students coming up to me and asking me to bump up their grades because they wanted an extra point or because they were failing.  Such a fun time.

On Friday, I went to Chimoio with Sarah and our friend Otilia to go shopping.   We went to the huge calamidades market and went a little capulana crazy.  I am so excited to get new clothes made, though I don’t know exactly what I want with each capulana just yet.  The rest of the weekend was a normal weekend in Messica.  Then today I went to calamidades with Otilia again, and spent most of the day with her.

Tomorrow, Otilia is going to teach Sarah and I to make the fish that Messica is famous for. I am pretty excited about it. I also will turn in the grades for the year, and then the school year is officially over and I am free!  Besides the pesky national exams in November.

The countdown is on for December 1^st when I will have some special visitors in Moz, and then the 16^th when I’ll be back in the US.

Até a próxima, fiquem bem! (Until next time stay well!)

Mozambican Wedding: Round 2

About a month ago, my colleague Mauricio mentioned that he was getting married.  This came as a surprise to me because I was under the impression that he was already married.  In Mozambique, it is very common here for people to live with a significant other that they call their spouse and have children with them without being legally married.  Mauricio and his wife, Ana Dulce, were making it official.  Registering as a married couple.  And spending a lot of money on a big party.

Mauricio and his wife are both professors at the secondary school with us.  Mauricio teaches Portuguese; Ana Dulce teaches biology. I was thrilled when Mauricio went out of his way to make sure Sarah and I knew that he wanted us at the wedding.  He came over one night to talk to me about a project that we are working on, and mentioned that his wedding would be on October 4th: Dia da Paz.  It was a Friday, but also a national Mozambican holiday, meaning there was no school and people were free.  He told me that he was trying to rearrange money so that he could make sure Sarah and I would be able to attend.  I didn't want to put him out  by trying to accommodate us, so I asked how much it was so maybe Sarah and I could pay our own way.  I don't know what I was expecting, but he said it was 700 mets (about 20ish dollars) per person.  I was taken aback at how expensive that was, but after discussing it with Sarah, we decided that it was worth it. Our wedding gift to Mauricio would be that we were present at his wedding....so that's what we did.

Procession of the bride (walking on capulanas)

The wedding was at a hotel in Garuzo that I'd been to twice before: once for Women's Day, once for a Peace Corps Conference called PDM.  Garuzo is nice.  There is a beautiful pool, the food is delicious, and it is just a nice environment.  October 4th was a beautiful day.  After arriving and waiting around for awhile, the procession started.  Ana Dulce walked from one of the hotel rooms to the pool to meet Mauricio.  In front of her were the 5 adorably dressed "flower girl"-like girls.   I don't know what their actual purpose was, but they were so cute it didn't matter.  The procession was over dirt, so women took time to lay out capulanas for the group to walk on, and kept taking them from the back and moving them forward.  This made the procession take a lot longer, but it also made the whole process extremely entertaining.  The spectators were all singing and dancing with so much joy, and it made me so happy to be there to witness it.

Bride and groom processing in

After the vows and exchanging rings, Mauricio, Ana Dulce, the padrinho (Godfather), and the madrinha (Godmother) signed the registry, making the marriage official.  There was much singing, dancing, hugging, and kissing.  Then there were many pictures.  Mozambicans just LOVE pictures.  After about an hour  or so, we made our way over to the reception area, where as we waited for lunch to be served, the cake was cut.  Mauricio and Ana Dulce fed each other small pieces of cake, and soon after we were all served our own small pieces of cake.  Sarah and I were trying not to be too awkward at our table, but considering we didn't know anyone at our table very well, that didn't go so well.  The eating/buffet  process took an hour or two, and before I knew it, the car we came in was leaving.  We said one last Parabens to Mauricio and headed back to Messica.

Officially husband and wife.

Mozambican wedding round 2 was a lot different than round 1.  It was a civil wedding, not a church wedding.  It was way more elegant and fancy than the first wedding I went to.  There was no dancing (what?! - I was shocked).  There was a lot of joy, a lot of love, and a lot of smiles. Knowing the bride and the groom only made it that much more exciting.

I am so grateful for the opportunity I've been given to witness once-in-a-lifetime moments in Mozambique.  Blessed doesn't even begin to cover it.

Sarah and I with Mauricio and Ana Dulce