In my current world, I rarely say that things feel normal: the food is different and the language is different and the schedule is different. The way that simple tasks around the house are done is different. Gender expectations are different. The education system is different. My life—my world—is more different than it ever has been, or that I could have imagined it ever would be. However, one night about a week ago, a feeling of familiar happened and it was beautiful. Tiny—maybe even could have gone unnoticed—but I noticed it and I’m so glad that I did.
Some volunteers met up after a long day of classes to grab a drink and speak in English and we stayed a little longer than usual. By the time I got home, it was dark and almost dinner time (don’t worry mom, someone walked with me). Anyway, it was dark outside and I thought my family might be irritated that I was home later than usual, so I knocked on the door with some dread and was expecting to be met with a quiet hello but not much else (Mozambicans are not very confrontational).
Instead, Tia Jacquelina answered the door with a giant smile and a hug—she had been in Maputo for a few days so this was our first time seeing each other in a while. Phew—no quasi-silent-treatment. I asked her how her trip was and she said it was great. My Mãe was also in great spirits—big hugs and smiles and asking me how my day went. Not only did they not think twice about me coming home late-ish, they were in happier moods than usual! #winning
I quickly noticed that Mãe and Tia got their hair done that day—they both usually wear it wrapped up but today both had it down and it was shiny and styled and they looked like total babes. I commented on how nice they both looked. Sheepish grins, giggles, and thank-yous followed. Pretty much the same reaction that any girl anywhere would have after receiving a compliment when they already know they look #bangin. It was adorable and familiar and I’m glad I said my complements aloud.
Mãe was cutting leafy greens in the kitchen and I asked what she was making. She said kakana and she and Tia busted up laughing. Naturally, I asked, why is that so funny? And they laughed some more. At first I thought it was because that sounds like cocaine, but these two don’t seem like the type of women to laugh at their own jokes about hardcore drugs. So I asked again and they laughed again. Then Mãe said não vai gostar. You’re not going to like it. Excuse me, but I’m a vegetarian and you’re cooking leaves. I’m pretty sure I’ll like it just fine. When I told them I think I’ll like it, they laughed some more. And then I said I would try it and see for myself and they laughed some more. I laughed along with them because I didn’t understand at all why they felt so strongly about this sounds-like-drugs-but-not food. My face was red and my forehead was scrunched and I was confused but I kept laughing and kind of sweating because I’m awkward and this was just weird. How bad could a leaf really be?
When dinner time came and the kakana looked exactly like every other green mush I’ve eaten since I’ve been in Mozambique, I was certain I would like it. Not to mention the pot was sitting right next to another pot of green mush called Mboa, which I know I like—and I couldn’t tell them apart. Mãe put a tiny spoonful on my plate and said that I could try it but since she knew I wouldn’t like it, that’s all I get. I playfully rolled my eyes and tried it.
…It was disgusting. It was super bitter and the texture was extra mushy (the bad kind of mushy #ifyouknowwhatimean) with chunks of gosh-knows-what. I think before my face even made the inevitable expression of disgust they both busted up laughing. I admitted that there was no way I would eat another bite and Mãe served me Mboa while she and Tia talked about how funny I am. Note: While I do believe that I am quite hilarious, that laughter had nothing to do with my funniness and everything do with kakana in all of its do-people-actually-eat-this glory.
That whole scene is absolutely something that would happen in my North American life. Suggesting a friend tries a food you know they will hate just to see their reaction, and then laughing your ass off when they react even more dramatically than you expected. The joke was on me, but I’m not sad about it.
After dinner we washed dishes like usual and then went to hang out in the living room. Usually during this time I pretend to understand what the TV is saying and Mãe and Tia fofocam (gossip) about anything and everything. However, that day Tia had returned from Maputo with Mozambique’s version of a smart phone (somewhere between an LG Chocolate Touch and an iPhone). Well, said phone was equipped with a camera and Mãe and Tia went to town; it was perfect timing with their new fancy hairdos.
Begin photoshoot:
Tia poses for a picture. Mae takes some. Mae shows Tia. They both laugh.
Mae poses for a picture. Tia takes some. Tia shows Mae. They both laugh.
Tia poses for a picture. Mae takes some. Mae shows Tia. They both laugh.
Mae poses for a picture. Tia takes some. Tia shows Mae. They both laugh.
They take a break from posing to scroll through the pics they’ve taken after many rounds of the photoshoot. They point and laugh at each picture although multiple in a row are identical.
I offer to take one of the two of them together, and compliment their new hair again. I call them chique, which means fancy/luxurious. They giggle and blush and dance and it’s adorable. They pose for a picture together and their reaction to that one is the best. I think they probably haven’t taken a photo together since the last big formal event (wedding or graduation), and I can tell they are getting so much joy from this.
They insist that I pose for a photo by myself. I’m in my pajamas after a long day of Portuguese and Teacher Training and some beers and I am the opposite of chique right now. But they insist. And I oblige. And now there are at least 5 identical pictures of scuzzy, no-make-up, hair in a messy bun Sarah Biz in Tia’s phone forever. Wonderful.
But this too was a scenario that my North American self recognized. Getting a new hairdo (or outfit or lipstick or whatever) and then taking all the selfies because you want evidence of your chique self thoroughly documented. Ladies, we’ve all done it. The difference is, these two women had no intention of posting these photos anywhere and therefore were not hoping for likes or comments. They were content to pose, view and feel beautiful, no follow-up or outside voice needed.
In a place that is so far away and different than what I have known for the last 27 years, it was amazing to experience multiple instances of familiarity in one night: the new-hairdo-beautiful feeling; playing not-so-nice-jokes on friends; all the selfies. It also reminded me that no matter how different the culture here is, we are all human beings. We find joy in similar places, welcome silliness, and as women, sometimes feeling beautiful is worth more than gold can say.
“Wherever there is a human being, there is an opportunity for a kindness”.
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