Big Goals. Tiny Steps.

Typically, I am a go-getter type of person. I like to be presented with tasks that I can work towards and eventually complete. The types of goals that have a concrete “yes I did it” or “no I did not…yet” outcome. Some USA examples:

• Run a half marathon in under 1:45 (not yet)
• Complete 30 yoga classes in 40 days (yes)
• Color-code and organize my calendar (yes)
• Have “girlfriend time” at least one day per week (yes)
• Walk Lucy 5x per week (yes)
• Read the Harry Potter series (not yet)

All of those above goals require that I do very specific things to achieve them; further, each goals requires that I take very specific steps that promise goal achievement: Follow a training plan. Get my butt to yoga practice. Time management. Call my friends. See my friends. Watch The Bachelor with my friends. Drink wine with my friends. Buy clothes that I don’t need with my friends. Do nothing—with my friends. Walk the Steven’s Park Golf Course with my beautiful Great Dane. Swap screen for book and read, read, read. 

During Pre-Service Training (PST) in Namaacha, we were presented with a list of concrete goals (much different than my goals in the States, but similar in structure):

• Reach Intermediate-Mid language level. (yes)
• Learn how to hand wash clothes. (yes)
• Learn how to light carvão (coal). (yes)
• Attend Medical and Safety & Security sessions. Pass related quizzes. (yes)
• Prepare and give mini-lessons in Portuguese. (yes)
• Help host Mãe around the house. (yes)
• Demonstrate understanding of lesson planning structure. (yes)

The structure of PST was very “Sarah” (or “totes Brades”, if you will). We were given a very busy schedule with long- and short-term goals and for 10 weeks we followed that schedule and worked towards those goals. It was easy for me to get into a routine, stay in that routine, and successfully complete all the things Peace Corps hoped that I would. Then, after 10 weeks of training and a beautiful (short, sweet and to the point just like I like) swear-in, I was ready for Manjacaze…or was I? 

Opposite of the structure we had in training, Peace Corps gave us exactly one goal to complete during the first three months at site: Integrate. This means integrate into the community. Only one task to complete in three months. Easy peasy, right? Right. Wait…No. Yes? I don’t know. Maybe. Let’s stick with maybe. Unlike most of my totesbrades goals, it’s hard to tell when this one is actually completed. Is it when the kids know your name? Is it when you can walk outside and not be stared at because you are one of 5 white people in the whole town? Is it when you start teaching your own classes? Is it when men start conversations with something besides, “marry me”?  

No one single thing or circumstance indicates whether or not a person is fully integrated into their community. In Dallas, I can retrospectively see that I was integrated into my downtown community because: my neighbors became my friends; other downtown residents knew Lucy by name; I was a member of a tight-knit Crossfit gym; I used the communal grill at my apartment complex to grill out and neighbors stopped offering to share their meat with me; I worked with a slew of education nonprofits and the leaders of those nonprofits trusted me; I had a few different friend groups that dabbled in whiskey, football, fitness, The Bachelor and restaurants with patios; I knew the best local restaurants. I would allow myself to splurge—once in a while—on an item that was sold at those types of boutiques that only carries one of everything to reassure you that $100 for this shirt is worth it because nobody else will have it (I knew where those boutiques were and how much I loved and hated them simultaneously). I frequently ran over the Trinity River Bridge, which is now in every fancy Dallas Skyline picture ever. I taught the tattered-shirt-wearing man who waited for the bus everyday near my house that he doesn’t need to be scared of Lucy. Sometimes I bought an extra late-night Wendy’s Frosty and gave it to the homeless lady who slept on the ground near the drive-thru. I discovered that the dumpy-looking shaved ice place that sold pickle-flavored sno-cones was the best post-dog-walk spot in all of DFW. I knew the neighborhoods and how to get there. I knew the Kindergarten Readiness rates for most of said neighborhoods. I knew the traffic patterns (but in Dallas the pattern is that there is always traffic on all the highways all the time). I had practiced yoga at 7 different studios until I found my favorite. I recognized people. They recognized me. I cared about Dallas. I enjoyed Dallas. I felt like I belonged in Dallas.

Surely, you must be convinced by now that after 4 years and many adventures, I was fully integrated into my own unique Dallas community. Yay! Success! However, I did not set that goal for myself. I didn’t make a list and I didn’t check off boxes. I didn’t set a time limit. Hell, throughout most of those 4 years I didn’t even realize what integration was or that it was happening. I probably never even said the words “community” and “integration” together in the same sentence until I got to Peace Corps Staging in Philly two days before getting on an airplane to Mozambique. 

And now community integration is my only goal, as unmeasurable and gray as it is.

Here is where I admit that this community integration business is challenging, makes me a little bit anxious, and still presents many big question marks. Some days it feels completely unattainable. I have been in Manjacaze for 1.5 months, and I feel like I have made very little progress in terms of integration. I don’t play with crianças every day. I have not made any progress towards starting a secondary project. I spend a lot of time in the confines of our quintal (fenced-in yard) reading or working out or watching TV shows on my computer. People still look at me funny when I walk to the market. Men still ask me to marry them before even saying hello. I get hissed at and kissed at and stared at. I understand that community integration is a slow process that needs to happen organically; that there are no 5 things I can complete in a timely manner to become integrated. No formula to plug into or rules to abide by. It takes time to build the trust of a person let alone an entire community. Logically, I know this. But emotionally, it’s hard to sit with, being the go-getting, tasking-doing, box-checking woman that I am. Each day I have to remind myself that little by little, integration will happen—is happening— and likely I won’t even notice that steps have been made until much later.

So today I will acknowledge that I am not yet fully integrated into the Manjacaze community (not even close). No matter how much passearing (walking around) I do, integration cannot happen in 6 weeks. However, I’m proud to say that steps have been made. Tiny hints that come in the form of seemingly inconsequential interactions let me know that I’m on my way there. Some little wins follow:

• Neighborhood kids call me Mana Sarah instead of Mana Rebbeca (well, most of them).
• I made a friend named Filipe. He helps me with Portuguese and I help him with English. 
• There is a Mãe that sells capulanas and we are at the “acquaintance” level. She says hi when I walk by her stand but doesn’t pressure me to buy anything. When I do want to buy something she offers a good price. 
• I sat for 1.5 hours talking to the guys that sold me the wood I used to make shelves. We talked about Manjacaze, Mozambican culture, and the family structure. They invited me to a wedding in a non-creepy way. I think I’ll go.
• My colleagues know my name and what I’ll be teaching. They trusted me to help them calculate year-end student statistics.
• The Mãe that sold me Fanta the other day laughed at me when I told her I was going to use it to bake a cake. I’ll have the last laugh when I let her try a piece of the deliciousness. 
• I get complimented on my Portuguese. I get laughed at about my Portuguese.
• A non-Portuguese speaking Mãe sprints to me and gives me double kisses and a hug every time I walk by her yard. I have no idea what she’s saying but it’s a daily joyful moment that I wouldn’t trade for the world.
• I get thumbs upped when I run. 
• I have completed a workout video with the orphans that come over to our house to feed the pigs. They don’t laugh at us working out anymore. 
• In the market I get called things like “Mana Sarah”, “Minha Amiga”, “Professora Sarah”, and “Professora de Matematica”. I am hearing less mulungu and more names that accurately describe me. 

These seemingly small moments are actually extremely important and absolutely necessary. They are organic benchmarks that let me know I’m making progress towards integrating. The smallness of these wins is sometimes frustrating—I want to be able to do more, faster. I want to attain the level of integration that PCVs who have been here for over a year have attained (impossible, duh). Each day, I need to remind myself that community integration does not work like that. Faster is not better, and small is actually quite the opposite of small. 

So for the foreseeable future I will make a promise to myself:

I will slow down. I will be mindful. I will pay attention to the little things.

I will trust that I am here for a reason.

I will do the best that I can, and that sometimes the best thing I can do is just be.

I will understand that not everything will happen today.

I will understand that everyday something will happen.

I will know that Manjacaze will feel like my home in time. 

Not too fast. Not to slow. At exactly the pace that it should.