Provincial Exams: Round 2

As I mentioned in my last blog post, last week was provincial exam week: the worst week of the trimester. I went to the school bright and early on Monday morning to find out my proctoring schedule for the week...or so I thought. Turns out the Pedagogical Directors decided to do things a little differently this trimester and post only the day's schedule instead of the week's schedule. This poses problems for a few reasons. One, it is really annoying to have to go to the school every day just to find out that you actually aren't working and shouldn't have left your house in the first place, and two, for the people that don't live in Messica and commute from further away (Manica or Chimoio), they have to come into Messica every day when in actuality they aren't scheduled, so it's an even bigger waste of time and money. The one good thing about the new schedule was that people who were scheduled in the morning didn't work in the afternoons, and vice versa.

At the school on Monday, I learned that I was proctoring in the morning, and had to proctor in the Cambodja where there are 4 classrooms located about a 20 minute walk from the school. I had never had the pleasure of going to the Cambodja, and let me tell you I hope I never get so lucky again. The classrooms there were about the size of my living room in my house with 12-15 desks shoved in them, 3 students per desk, and more students sitting on the floor. The aisles between the desks were hardly big enough for the tiny 9^th graders to squeeze through, so I really didn't have a chance. The students were less than thrilled to have the muzungu (white person) proctoring their exam, because I refused to go outside and walk around and talk to the other teachers during the exam, leaving the students to cheat freely. I was also harassed by other teachers for not wanting to leave the room and socialize with them during the exam, but I stood my ground and stayed in the classroom for the duration of the hour and a half test. There was a lot of complaining, but I told them to get over it, and awkwardly paced in the 3 feet by 3 feet space that I had to walk in the room. Regardless of my lack of mobility, there were still some obvious cheaters trying to look at their notebooks under their desks, looking at each others papers, and whispering to each other. I confiscated notebooks, but couldn't really do much about the copying or talking. There was honestly just too much of that for me to try to control.

Tuesday morning, I headed back to the school to check out the morning's proctoring schedule, praying that I wouldn't be on it (especially not in the Cambodja). I was happily relieved when I got to the school when I didn't find my name on the list. I also managed to sneak a peek at the morning schedules for the rest of the week and happily found my name absent from all of the lists. SCORE! I don't know how I escaped with only one day of proctoring, but there will be no complaints from me about that. However, instead of being able to go right back home on Tuesday morning, my Pedagogical Director asked me to stick around to help him count out tests and get things organized, which I gladly spent about an hour doing. After that, I found myself standing around doing nothing and wanting to go home, but unable to leave without telling the Ped. Director who was nowhere to be found. I was standing around with some other teachers talking when two of my students came up to me and asked me to help them with what I assumed was a practice English exam (because their English exam was later that afternoon). I helped them through the second and third pages of the exam, and shortly after went home.

Later that day when Sarah got home from the English exam, she told me that all of her students had cheated on the exam because they had somehow gotten the exam before the test. As I heard that, my heart dropped into my stomach. I looked at the exam and my fears were true: I had actually helped the students with the actual exam. I had given them all of the answers. I couldn't have known beforehand because the first page of the exam was missing, but the crushing realization that my students took advantage of me to cheat was so upsetting. I wanted to cry, wanted to scream, wanted to leave Mozambique because it felt like there is nothing I can do in this country to help. I felt taken advantage of. And I didn't know what to do about it.

I didn't go to the school on Wednesday. I left Messica for Chimoio in the morning, and decided time away would probably be for the better. The central region of Mozambique had a going away party for one of the health volunteers living in Chimoio, Shane, who had completed his 2 years of service and is now heading back to America. That was a nice distraction from the provincial exam mess. Then Thursday through Sunday I was in Maputo for a long and intense conference for JUNTOS that was very good but also extremely busy. (More info to come on JUNTOS; I'll be staying busy for the next year to say the least!)

Sunday night I arrived back in Messica to deal with the mess of provincial exams. I had 4 turmas of tests to grade, and quickly found out that all of my turmas cheated. Out of 150ish students in my ciências (sciences) turmas only about 7 or 8 had failing grades, which is quite impossible because on their first test of the trimester only about 20 had passing grades. I also talked to a few of the students in those classes and they told me that there were people in the class dictating the answers to the whole class when the proctoring professor wasn't there.

There were even more problems with my letras (letters) turma because the exam was not printed correctly and almost all of the questions were unanswerable. By the time it was corrected during the exam (the questions were written on the board), the students had about 20 minutes to do the whole 90 minute exam. Everyone in my letras turma failed the test, but that does not mean that they didn't cheat. Almost everyone missed the exact same questions, putting the same answers for everything including the extended response answers.

What. A. Mess.

Today, I went to the school to hand back the tests and talk to the students. In each turma, there were less than a third of the students present. I handed back the tests, telling them the overwhelming amounts of passing grades. I told them I knew that almost all of them cheated and there was no use denying it because it was obvious. Luckily, next trimester we will not have provincial exams, which means I will be writing both tests of the trimester. I told the students that their consequence of cheating on this test is that for both of the tests of next trimester, I will not let them correct their tests. I told them if they really know the material like their scores on the provincial exams suggest, that should not be a problem for them. No one really had anything to say about that. There was no complaining or saying that it wasn't fair, which was a relief. I'm just happy that from here on out I will be proctoring and writing my own tests.

Tomorrow I will be giving two make-up tests, calculating final grades, and turning my grades in. Thursday I'm heading to Chimoio, Friday to Beira for a conference of REDES which is a Peace Corps secondary project for empowering girls in Mozambique, Sunday to Guruso for a conference for writing grants for Peace Corps so I can try to construct a basketball court in Messica, and finally on Wednesday I will be heading up to Gurue to spend a few days with my Peace Corps besties!

Quick Update

Things have calmed down considerably for me since my last post, both politically and otherwise.  All of the evacuated volunteers have returned to site, and the situation continues to be monitored by Peace Corps.  

The past two days I have spent mostly laying in bed watching TV shows, not because I'm sick, but just because there's not much else to do (and it's nice after the few weeks of craziness).  This coming week the students will be taking provincial exams.  I haven't been called yet for any sort of assistance from the school, which is both shocking and awesome.  I did kind of hope to proofread the math exam this trimester before it gets printed and handed out with one fifth of the questions so horribly written that they're impossible to answer, but it doesn't look like that will be happening.  Oh well.  

So Monday through Wednesday of this week I will be proctoring exams.  Proctoring exams is the worst, so I am by no means excited about this.  But luckily, the JUNTOS conference is just in time for me to miss half of testing week! I will be heading to Maputo on Thursday and staying until Sunday.  Hopefully I will be able to see my host sister, Nucha while I'm there!

After returning to Messica next week I will have a marathon of grading exams and calculating final grades, then I will be traveling for the last couple weeks of July.  I am so excited!  I don't know when I'll have a chance to update next, so I just wanted say that things are back to normal, and gearing up to get crazy again here soon!  

Keep Mozambique in your prayers, please!

Unrest and Stress

I have one word to describe the last week and a half: stressful.

Last Thursday, I heard of some renewed political unrest between the two rival political groups in Mozambique, FRELIMO (the currently governing party) and RENAMO (the opposition). RENAMO was attempting to cut ties between the northern part of the country and the southern part of the country by blockading the one and only road that connects them. They blocked off a huge section of the EN1 spanning from the Save river at the base of Sofala province to the city on the EN6 (the same road that I live on, but about 100 kilometers east of me) called Inchope. Not only is this a huge inconvenience, it is very alarming to all of the Mozambican citizens that lived through the civil war that took more than a million Mozambican lives and ended a short 20 years ago.  Here's some more information on what's currently going on in Mozambique.

In the middle of hearing of all this confusion, I was a little preoccupied because the next morning I had plans to head up towards Malawi, where I would be visiting my friend, Paige, and enjoying my long weekend away from school. I texted the security officer of Peace Corps here in Mozambique and made sure I was still good to travel, and was granted permission to travel. Friday morning, I woke up early, walked to the EN6 and hitchhiked my way up to Tete City in the province of Tete which is directly north of Manica. Upon arriving in Tete, I met up with two other volunteers that live there, walked around, ate a delicious burger, and enjoyed a hot shower and American music videos in our hostel. The next morning, I got up and endured a 12ish hour day of traveling, starting in Tete and ending in Lilongwe with many stops and bus transfers and a border crossing in between. One problem I had that was after arriving in Malawi, it was very hard (and expensive) to get in touch with anyone, so Paige and I had a heck of a time working out plans and where we would meet. We eventually agreed that when I arrived, I would call her and she would come meet me and take me to the hotel. The only problem was that I had absolutely no phone credit to call her and let her know that I had arrived. Luckily I received a text saying which hotel we would be staying in that night, so after arriving at the bus stop in Lilongwe (far after I had anticipated arriving...oh traveling in Africa), I grabbed a taxi to take me to the hotel.

With the help of a security guard of the hotel, I found my way up to the reception desk to ask which room Paige was staying in, and ended up running right into Paige! After sharing a hug that was about 9 months overdue, we put my stuff down in the second nicest hotel room I've seen in Africa, and spent the evening catching up, eating dinner, and I took a glorious and long hot shower. The next morning was Paige's birthday and a Sunday, so we ventured out to find the Catholic church closest to our hotel where we were told mass in English would start at 6 am. When we arrived, we found out church actually started at 8 am. We killed some time and then I enjoyed my first mass in English in 9 months. It was wonderful and refreshing and I was so happy! The rest of the day consisted of shopping around, drinking milkshakes, eating pizza, and making our way back to the health complex (seemed like mini-America to me) that Paige was staying at about 40 kilometers west of Lilongwe. That's where we stayed the next two days, playing with children, reading, and just enjoying each others' company. It would have been all good and fun, except for the fact that all the while my mind was somewhat on what was happening back in Mozambique. Being in Malawi was wonderful, but I couldn't help feeling out of touch and far away. I knew that I was safer in Malawi with the violence going on in Moz, but that didn't stop me from feeling like I should have been back home in Messica, or at least back in Moz. My plan was to leave Malawi on June 25^th, which happens to be Mozambique's independence day, but given all of the violence and uncertainty that was happening in Mozambique, I decided with the security officer that it would be better to stay in Malawi the extra day just in case RENAMO would try to use independence day to make some sort of statement.

On the 26^th, I left Malawi (happy that I went and happy to be getting back to Moz) and headed back to Tete City. I went back a different way than I came, cutting 3 hours off of the travel time. After crossing the border back into Mozambique, I once again had communication, which was amazing. Soon after, however, I got a text from one of my friends from Tete (who had been consolidated from her site to the city) saying that there was a rumor of violence on the roads in Tete. So though I was happy to be back in Mozambique, there is only one main road in Tete and I happened to be on it. I promptly started praying that I would get to Tete safely. After about 5 hours that seemed like 15 and many police stops, I arrived in the city and made my way to the hostel.

We tried to watch the news and find out any information on the most recent attacks, but one of the things about Mozambique that is most frustrating is the lack of communication within this country. There are so many rumors that get passed around by word of mouth, but you have no idea what is true and what isn't. One of the rumors that we were hearing was that there was some violence that day in Changara, a city that I would need to pass through to get back to Messica. So the fear started once again. The security officer did some research, and though he found nothing, I didn't have a bus ticket, so if I were to have left the following day, I would have had to make a transfer in Changara. I decided that was not a risk I was willing to take, and I bought a bus ticket the next morning for the following day (Friday morning). So Thursday I spent the day in Tete. Thursday evening there were more rumors about shootings in Tete that day in Changara, but I was too tired of hearing rumors that could never be confirmed or denied and too anxious to get back in Messica to stay in Tete any longer. I decided that I was going, and I prayed that I would get home safely.

Friday morning at about 3:30 am I made my way to the bus station and boarded my bus to Chimoio. After an uneventful bus ride, I arrived at the intersection for Messica at about 9 am. I got off the bus and immediately found a chapa to Messica. I was in Messica by about 9:30, and in my house at about 10. Thank you, Jesus!

Oh yeah, and with all of that traveling nonsense going on, I also got word that we officially were still on for my JUNTOS workshop in Messica starting Friday night and going through until Monday morning. So after arriving in Messica on Friday morning, I started rushing around getting all of the last minute things done for the workshop. I spent a lot of time at the school getting supplies organized, getting the rooms situated, and trying to ensure things would go off without a hitch.

Around 4:30 in the afternoon, groups started arriving from Manica, Chimoio, Gondola, and Catandica. There were 30 students in total including our 6 from Messica. The workshop started around 5 or 5:30. Everyone was there on time besides the Messica kids (go figure) and many of the counterparts. The Messica students eventually showed up, but the counterparts were pretty flaky (there were 2 good ones, including mine) and remained flaky for most of the weekend. One of the things that was most stressful was that the counterparts were upset about the conditions at the school (the students were sleeping on the floor on bamboo mats) and they were yelling and saying they were unacceptable, even though they had been informed about the sleeping situation before they came and they were instructed to bring blankets with them. I don't really understand. But luckily one of the mae's from church that I hired to cook for the weekend came to the rescue and offered to take the few girls that came from out of town for the conference to sleep at her house. The Messica students went to their houses to sleep, and then the boys from out of town slept on the floor of the only super secure and warmest room that we have at the school. The counterparts still had things to complain about, but we did all we could to accommodate our guests. The maes did a wonderful job cooking for the weekend and they made everything run smoothly. Besides not having Mozambicans to run most of the sessions, the workshop went well and I think most of the students enjoyed themselves. We ended up shortening the workshop a little bit and ended on Sunday afternoon. After splitting up all of the leftovers among the mae's and paying them (they were so happy they cried), I headed home and went to bed at 7 o'clock.

Overall, I feel like everything that I organized actually went extremely well, but of course there were also complaints. Today I'm using to rest a little bit, and get caught up with my work for school. This week is a review week, then we have provincial exams next week (oh joy), and then I have a conference in Maputo the weekend after for JUNTOS because I will be the new Co-Coordinator of JUNTOS for the central region of Mozambique.

After that, things are still a little confusing because we still don't know exactly going on with the political unrest. I am praying for things to calm down, but honestly no one knows what's going to happen at this point. Can't even believe I've been here for over 9 months.

Prayers are welcomed and appreciated!  

Casamento Moçambicano



Bride and Groom during the wedding Ceremony

 Last Saturday, Sarah and I went to our first Mozambican wedding!  The wedding was held at the gospel church in Messica where Sarah has been to a few times with our friends Otilia and Flora.  I had never been to the church since whenever I'm in Messica on a Sunday I go to the Catholic Church.  So this was my first time in an African church other than the Catholic church.  We arrived a little late because Sarah was at a school meeting and I was laying in bed trying to get over a pretty nasty cold. Sidenote: having a cold/being sick in Africa is just misery. 

Greeting line outside the church

When Sarah got home from school, I decided that even though I still wasn't feeling so great I couldn't pass up going to the wedding, so we put on our dresses and headed to the church.  When we arrived there were a ton of people standing outside of the church, and people were literally overflowing from  the church with crowds around both the entrances to the church.  We made our way up to the doors to see what was going on.  There was lots of singing and dancing, and little else was visible.  We were beckoned outside and over to some people to hand over the wedding cake that Sarah made to offer to the bride and groom.  We were then told to wait there while they went in the overcrowded church to find us some seats.  We insisted that we didn't need seats and we could just stand in the back, but they just weren't having that.   A few short minutes later, we were being escorted through the crowd to a bench that clearly had been vacated for us.  (I wish I could say that this special treatment doesn't happen often, but that would simply be untrue.  It bothers me but at the same time I know people are just trying to be nice and considerate, even though it makes us feel isolated and awkward.)

Making their way to the car.



The singing entourage of the newlyweds.

 The ceremony lasted for about another hour after we arrived.  It was a tiny church, probably about a third of the size of my church in Messica.  And it was hot.  And crowded.  And hot.  And did I mention hot?  Yet none of these things stopped the dancing, singing, and rejoicing that was going on in that church.  When I look beyond the pounding headache and slight feeling like I was going to pass out, it was seriously awesome and I feel beyond blessed to have witnessed it.  That being said, it would have been a lot more enjoyable without a cold.


Two of my students, Olivio and Tone.



One of the things I found interesting about the ceremony is that the wedding cake was at the church, and the cutting of the cake was part of the ceremony.  After the bride and groom feeding each other pieces of cake, they cut and passed out bite-sized pieces for everyone in the church.  I don't really know what the significance of the cake is, but it was delicious so I wasn't complaining.



After the wedding, the bride and groom made their way to a car and the dancers from the wedding along with many wedding-goers piled into a truck to sing celebratory songs and accompany the newlyweds to Casa Msika where they would take their wedding photos (I found this out after the fact.  I was honestly really confused about where they were going  and why they were gone for so long).  We then made our way to the pastor's house where the reception would be  held.  There were ladies from the church (including our friend Flora and Otilia) that didn't go to the wedding and had been cooking all morning.  There were at least 150-200 wedding-goers that showed up to the reception to eat, so the ladies had their work cut out for them.  There were some tables and chairs set up (but not nearly enough for  everyone).  There was also a drum set and keyboard set up which were the first of their kinds that I've seen in over 8 months.  Exciting things, people!



Reception site.



Otilia with the cake Sarah made (center) and a lot of batatas fritas!

Dininha! If you say she isn't the cutest, you're wrong.

Cows...why wouldn't there be cows at the reception?



:)



Waiting for the bride and groom to arrive.  Check out Martins in this picture. Hahahaha.

About a half hour after arriving at the reception, I was surprised to be served lunch even though the bride and groom had not yet arrived.  We were each served a heaping plate of spaghetti, rice, beef, salad, french fries, and little biscuit type cookies.  Sarah and I decided to split one plate and it's a good thing we did, because with both of us eating we couldn't even finish the plate.  Ridiculous.

When the food was served, the offerings of gifts started.  They started even before the bride and groom arrived.  There was a man with a microphone who received all the gifts on behalf  of the couple and announced each gift.  Lots of people gave money, but there were also other gifts as well.  There were many processions and dances with the gifts. It was just super interesting and very different to see.  I suppose it's much more meaningful to give gifts when you live in a country where you don't have very much in the first place.

The first group of dancers (Messica).

The majority of the dancing at the reception was done by 2 groups of dancers.  There was one group that came from Beira to dance at the wedding.  They performed choreographed dances to different songs.  There was also another group from Messica.  Personally, I think the Messica group was better (and EVERYONE wanted to know my opinion) but I also am a little biased.  The dancing was awesome, and it was the main event of the reception.

Dininha dancing with the group from Beira.

Best dressed at the wedding.  Chased this kid down to get his picture. :)

Students.

Sarah and I were also extremely popular at the reception because we had these magic machines that we like to call cameras.  Mozambicans are crazy for pictures.  Kids were following me around in a huge posse.  Students were like, “Teacher, take a picture of me over here....now over here...”  Seriously outrageous.  They also want to film everything.  No joke, everything.  I was sitting with two students while eating dinner and they were like, “teacher, you shoud film right now.”  I legitimately just looked at them like...what?  What would I even film?   I looked at them and said, “guys...there's nothing to film right now.”  They looked around, shrugged their shoulders, and reluctantly agreed that there wasn't much going on.  Sorry guys, I'm not trying to have hours of footage of people sitting around.  No thank you.



Sarah, Otilia, and I



Us with the bride and groom.



Criancas!



Our friend Flora (far left) and her family



Sarah dancing....can't pick her out or anything...

I'm really glad I went, even though I paid for it when my cold got a little bit worse on Sunday.  Oh well.  You only live once, right? :)  So now I've been to one Mozambican wedding.  Can't wait for the next one!

And then it was June...

I don't know how this is all happening so fast. We are on to the second half of the second trimester, meaning that the school year is halfway over. I have been in Messica just about 6 months and in Mozambique over 8 months. My family will be coming to visit in less than 6 months and then I will be home for Christmas. It is seriously insane to think about. My Peace Corps service is just about a third of the way over. What?

Things have been pretty busy here as last week was testing week (and grading week) and this week starts a new section of material. In 5 more weeks the dreaded provincial exams will be upon us again (God, help me) and then we will have a two week break from school in which I will be attending a Peace Corps conference and visiting some Peace Corps friends. Other events that are coming up include a Mozambican wedding next Saturday in Messica (blog to come about that, I'm sure), a trip to Malawi in a few weeks, and ultimately the JUNTOS workshop that we're hosting in Messica at the end of June.

Although my JUNTOS group has kind of been a failure, the group that already exists at the school as a culture group is eager to participate in the initiative, which ends up working out quite well. The goal of JUNTOS is to have these groups independent of volunteers, and conveniently enough this group in Messica is already functioning quite well without me. So my focus right now is planning the workshop for the end of the month which is a quite a lot of work (especially when you're trying to organize things in a country you've been in for 8 months and in Portuguese). Students will be coming from 5 different schools in the province of Manica to spend the whole weekend here in Messica and discuss different issues regarding health, gender equality, self esteem, and other relevant topics. I have arranged some ladies from the Catholic church to come to the school and do all of our cooking for the weekend. I will be going into Chimoio with them to buy most of the supplies in a couple of weeks. Overall the planning is going pretty well, and hopefully the weekend will go off without a hitch.

Besides planning the JUNTOS workshop, I have been busy with school and church. Last month was the month of Mary, so I was at the church at least 4 days a week in the evenings after school to teach the ladies how to make rosaries. We have almost finished all of the 6 rolls of rosary twine sent from the states, and am trying to find a supplier of something from here we can use which is proving to be pretty difficult. As I already mentioned last week was testing week, which was pretty stressful because there was no power at the school to make copies, so I ended up having to go to Manica to print the tests. I accidently told the guy printing the wrong number of copies so I was about 20 copies short. It was quite an adventure, and I honestly hope to never be that stressed out again on a testing day. All of my students told me that my test was really hard, and their scores confirmed that, although one student in my letras turma only missed one question out of 25, so I'll count that as a win. Also a colleague told me she heard my students talking about me. She said they said, “Professora Ana is a good teacher, but she's really strict when it comes to tests.” Can't even tell you how happy that makes me.

Oh! Also I would like to welcome the 20th group of volunteers to Moz!  They arrived last week and are now in Namaacha for their ten weeks of training.  It feels like yesterday I was in their shoes.  Insane!  Anyway, it's super weird not to be the newbies in country. So excited to meet them all!

Life's just been rollin' along and it doesn't seem like it'll be slowing down anytime soon.

Weekend in Namaacha!

Last weekend, I went back to Namaacha where I did my homestay from September to December upon arriving in Mozambique. I had been missing them a lot and decided that five months was too long without seeing them. On Thursday after class I headed to Chimoio, and attempted (and failed) to stay up all night because the bus to Maputo left from Chimoio at 4 am. I called a taxi at 3:30, and boarded the full bus to Maputo.

This was my longest distance traveled so far in Mozambique and also my first lone traveling adventure in Mozambique. To say that I went in without any doubts or worries would be a lie. My trip down was pretty uneventful. The best part about a bus full of Mozambicans traveling is when they need a bathroom break, they just stop the bus on the side of the road, and you do your business right there, in front of God and everyone (sometimes they will tell guys to go toward the front of the bus and women to go behind the bus…but on my way down that wasn’t the case). They tried to consolidate these stops (we stopped maybe 5-6 times in 16 hours), but honestly the whole ordeal just made me think of my mother. If you don’t know that story, you should ask her. It’s pretty great. (Mom, you will be really comfortable with bathroom breaks in Mozambique…)

I arrived in Maputo around 8 on Friday night, and waited in the bus station for my host sister, Nucha, to come find me. The problem was that the bus station is huge, and there was absolutely no good way to describe the exact location where I was. I mean, obviously as a white person I stand out, but she had no idea where I was in the huge bus station in Maputo and I had no idea what to tell her. And meanwhile I was getting creeped on by every taxi driver in the vicinity. It was awesome. But eventually we decided to both walk to the building that was in sight for both of us, and I finally found her! After figuring out the situation for getting my ticket back for Monday, Nucha’s boyfriend, Abel, drove us to her apartment in Matola (which is about 20 minutes outside of Maputo toward Namaacha). After a quick dinner, I went to sleep in a room that Nucha’s landlord had pre-arranged for me which was such a nice and unexpected gesture.

The next morning, Nucha and I got up, ate breakfast, and headed to Namaacha. We got on a chapa with a bunch of Catholics heading to Namaacha for the weekend’s festivities. The weekend that I visited Namaacha was a celebration of Mary in the church and there were over 50,000 people that traveled to Namaacha for the occasion. They prayed the rosary the whole way to Namaacha, and Nucha and I gladly joined in. Basically I’m getting to be a beast at the prayers in Portuguese because I’ve been at the church 3-4 nights a week praying and teaching the ladies of the church in Messica how to make rosaries (highlight of my days). 

When we arrived in Namaacha, after stopping to say hi to some of Nucha’s friends, I passed my host mom who happily greeted me on the main road, and then eventually I was home! I left my stuff in my old room, and sat down for a while to catch up with my family. That’s when I got to see the main attraction: Walmer! He is now about 19 months, and he got even cuter since December (as if that’s possible…). It took him all of 5 minutes to get over his shyness, and then it was all fun and games and adorableness. I can’t even describe how great it was to hear him screech out “Ana!” and demand things of me like “Ana! Anda ca!” (Anna! Come here!). It makes my heart happy just thinking about it. He now loves to play, but also thinks it’s hilarious to hit and pinch…so basically that stage in “playing” is universal. Seeing him and my family in Namaacha definitely made the long trip worth it, even though I would be spending as much time on a bus throughout the weekend than I actually spent in Namaacha. Maybe more. Oh well.

On Saturday night, my mae and I headed to the church for a mass and a procession around Namaacha. It was always kind of chilly in Namaacha when we were there during training, which was summertime here in Mozambique, but it is now winter. So to say I was a little cold would be an understatement. I think Mozambique has changed me. It was probably 50 degrees. I had a sweatshirt and a fleece on and I really wanted gloves. And then it started raining. But the plus side was that I got communion, got to hang out with my mae, and got to see some of my fellow volunteer’s host parents at the church. I also gave my mae, sisters, and some of the other ladies from church rosaries I made and they absolutely loved them. It was a good, albeit long and cold night. Also on the trek home I almost wiped out approximately 10 times in the mud. I do not miss that Namaacha matopi…

Sunday morning I woke up, hung out, played with Walmer, and eventually started walking around and greeting the host families of all my neighbors during training. I had lunch about 3 times that day because everywhere I went they wanted to give me food. It was great to see them, hug them, and tell them all about Messica. I think my mae was really proud and happy that I cared enough to come all the way from Manica to visit them…but I couldn’t help it. They were a bomb family, how could I not visit?!

Sunday after lunch came the time to say goodbye and head back to Matola for the night to stay in Nucha’s apartment and be driven by Abel back to Maputo at 3 am to catch my bus. We waited for a while to try to get a chapa out of Namaacha, and when we finally got one, we ended up getting off a few minutes later because Nucha had found us a different ride that was free. After waiting for another 20 minutes, our ride picked us up and we were on our way. When we were approaching Matola it was nearing 6 o’clock and Nucha got a phone call from Abel. After they finished their conversation, she turned to me and asked me if I could sleep on the bus. I told her that I could and I had slept on the bus on the way down here, thinking that she meant we would be staying up all night doing something. What she actually meant is that Abel’s car wasn’t functioning properly, so we would go to the bus station that night and I would literally spend the night on the bus.

We went back to Nucha’s apartment briefly for me to change my clothes and get organized, and immediately headed out to try to get to Maputo. The problem was, it was already dark, the chapa stop was full of about 20 or more people, and the few chapas that were passing us were already stuffed full of people. Basically, they would stop, a couple more people would attempt to squeeze on the already stuffed chapa, and then they would drive off struggling to shut the door. After about 2 or 3 failed attempts to get on a chapa, another one came up and Nucha pushed me to the front, yelling me to get on the chapa. I somehow managed to get it and kind of sit down, and she somehow also managed to get on. A very uncomfortable 20 minutes later, we got to another chapa stop, where the chapa we were on would drop us off and we would have to get on another one to actually get into Maputo. This chapa stop was bigger, busier, and a lot scarier in the dark. After waiting about 15 minutes, a bus pulled up that was going into Maputo. The bus was stuffed full of people. No joke, I didn’t think one more person could fit on it. And within seconds of the bus pulling up, there were at least 20 people swarming the doors trying to squeeze themselves in any crevice they could. Nucha was trying for a while too but I was just like…not happening…and decided to stand back and watch the magic happen. I think they squeezed 10 more people on that bus. Seriously, clown bus. It was unreal.

The next bus that pulled up about 10 minutes later, Nucha and I ran for and we were the first ones at the door. A few people got off, so I knew it was feasible that more people could fit on the already cramped bus. She pushed me on first, and squeezed in after me. A few more people weaseled their way in, and we were off. I have honestly never felt so claustrophobic in my life. Zero personal space, zero air to breathe, zero air circulating. Just freaking ridiculous. I was SO happy to get off the bus after the 15 minutes of eternity that I spent questioning my life decisions and what the hell I was doing in Mozambique in the first place. About a 5 minute car ride from Abel later, we were at the bus stop and I was getting on my bus to Chimoio at around 8 pm (6 hours before it was scheduled to leave). Lucky for me, there were many other people that also had no way to get to the bus stop at 3 am, so I was not alone on the bus and I felt completely safe. I slept for a majority of the time, and a few minutes before 3, we pulled out of the bus stop and were on our way. The bus to Chimoio from Maputo was empty compared to my bus on the way down, so it was very spacious and comfortable. The fact that I was on the bus for a full 24 hours made the trip seem really long, but by the time I made it to Chimoio I was just very relieved to see some familiar sights and happy to be up and walking around. I spent Monday night in Chimoio at another volunteer’s house, and left bright and early Tuesday morning in hopes to get back to Messica in time for my 9 o’clock JUNTOS meeting.

I figured when I got to Chimoio that I was home free. Seriously, I go to Chimoio about every other week and never have any trouble getting home. When I got to the chapa stop on Tuesday morning, there was no chapa to Messica there. I was considering taking a chapa to Manica or Machipanda and getting off in Messica, but I had a lot of stuff with me that I didn’t feel like carrying for 30 minutes from the main road all the way home as opposed to the normal 5 minute walk. I decided to wait for the Messica chapa. About 5 minutes later, one rolled up. I got in, sat down, and waited. About an hour later, I was still the only one in the chapa. Another Messica chapa rolled up. I switched chapas and waited about another hour. By this time I had already missed my meeting. Eventually people started filling up the chapa, and about 3 hours after getting to the chapa stop, we finally left for Messica. I was beyond aggravated. But then it got worse. About 15 minutes into our 45 minute trip, we were stopped on the road. All traffic was stopped. Everyone got out of the chapa. There was an accident a few hundred feet in front of us and it was blocking the entire road. So an hour after waiting for the accident to be taken care of, the police finally started to let some of the traffic go by, one car at a time. I arrived in Messica at 11:30 on Tuesday morning. I got to the chapa stop at 6:30 am. So my normal hour trip home took five hours. I got home and almost collapsed from exhaustion, frustration, and my new and annoying cold thanks to cold and rainy Namaacha. I decided that teaching my five straight hours of classes that afternoon would probably not be happening to the best of my ability that day, so I gave Sarah some work to give my students, and spent the day sleeping.

I have decided that I’m glad that I went, but I don’t think I will go again. Especially not for a long, long while. The trip back made me realize just how ridiculous traveling in Mozambique can be, and I don’t think I’ll venture that far from home again for a while.

High Highs, Low Lows

When you're serving in the Peace Corps, your highs are really high, and lows are really low. One day you can love your site, love your students, and love your Peace Corps life, and the next you can curse the day you accepted your invitation to serve. This might sound dramatic (because it is a little dramatic) but really, Peace Corps life isn't easy. You're faced with situations on the daily that the typical American couldn't fathom. You're put out of your comfort zone and forced to make the uncomfortable work for you for your 27 months of service. Some days it doesn't seem worth it. It seems like no matter how hard you try you won't make a difference. Then there are the days that make you realize that it isn't a hopeless cause; that you can truly change lives.

Since arriving in Mozambique I've had some difficult times. Yesterday was one of those times. I planned an activity for my classes. We were learning about exponencials and transformations to the graphs of exponencial functions last week, so I wrote out a different transformation on slips of paper, broke the class into groups, and told them to write out a table and graph the function they got. Later they would have to get up in front of the class and explain why their transformation affected the original graph (that I made as an example) the way it did. Sounds simple enough, right? WRONG. I started the day in my worst turma. I did my explanation, passed out the slips of paper and blank paper to draw the graph on, and got about 60 blank stares followed by: “But teacherrrrrrr, we don't know how to do this.” “Teacherrrr, this custa (this costs...basically, it's hard).” “Teacherrrr, we can't do this.” And when 60 kids are complaining and whining at the same time, it's enough to make a person that already has a headache (aka me in this situation) give up. I promptly told them that they could do it and I would do an example for them. They accepted that as an answer temporarily and we started to do the example. I explained to them how they had to put the values for x from the table into the equation and solve for y...yes...that was a necessary part of the explanation. The biggest problem came when the students were helping me work out the problem after we put x into the equation. The students didn't know how to multiply fractions. Not one student in the class of 60 could tell me how to do it. I stared at them blankly and asked them “seriously?” And one of the students had the nerve to say, “Teacher, we've never done this!”

So that's when I got upset beyond belief, considering last trimester we were multiplying rational expressions, which I introduced to them by reviewing how to multiply fractions. I stared at them. They were all talking amongst themselves. No one was paying attention to me. I slowly walked over, gathered up my stuff, and walked out of the classroom. It was about 20 minutes into the 90 minute class period. I walked over to see if any of the Pedagogical Directors were in their office, but no one was there. So I leaned up against a tree in the middle of the schoolyard and thought of the million other things I could be doing with my life besides spending 27 months of it living in Mozambique trying to teach unmotivated kids 11^th grade math when they don't know the 8^th grade material. About 5 minutes after I left, 4 girls from the turma I left came over to me, apologized for the turma, and told me to come back to class. I asked them why I should come back to class when they don't want to learn and they don't listen to me. They begged and pleaded and tried to defend themselves, but I wasn't having it. I let them take my stuff back into the classroom and said I would come back in a little bit, but I told them they had to do the assignment without my help. They begrudgingly went back into the classroom. I sat under the tree for another forty five minutes, pondering my life decisions, called a fellow PCV to have a break down, and answered a few student's questions that cared enough to come out to my tree to get some math help.

Eventually I went back into the classroom, helped a few students, and a short 15 minutes later, the class period was over. I didn't address the class as a group any more that day. I really didn't know what to say. I still don't. I'm gonna have to figure that out before I go in to the classroom tomorrow. One of the worst parts about the whole ordeal is that it was my first 90 minute class of three, all using the same lesson plan. So I repeated the activity in my other two turmas. The other turmas didn't do any complaining. I gave them examples, went around and explained to each group what they were doing, and they knew how to multiply fractions. Forward progress. The activity didn't go over as well as I hoped it would in any class, but it went better in my other turmas, so I'll take it. Can't be too picky after a disaster like I had in my first class.

Looking back to yesterday, I'm glad I left the class. I think it may have taught the students in my undisciplined turma that I'm not just going to sit around and let them treat me like dirt. I still don't know what I'm going to do about the fact that they don't know how to multiply fractions (and many other fundamental math concepts), but I'll figure that out as I go, I guess.

In the Peace Corps, the bad days are inevitable, but with the bad also come the good. And if you're lucky, the good outweigh the bad. I definitely feel blessed to be in Messica and to have a great support system both in Mozambique and at home. My good days do outweigh the bad, but unfortunately the bad ones creep in and mess with me. I'm looking forward to my next extraordinarily good day when I realize that my service is not all for naught. I'm sure it will come. That's why it's worth it...for those good days, for the students that want to be in school, for the students that come over for math help, for the students that ask for extra problems to do, and the students who turn in the Sudoku problem I gave them for fun. It is worth it. Sometimes that's just clouded by a low low. Thanks to everyone who helped me put that in perspective yesterday.