Having to do with cheesy desktop wallpaper and its relevance to my life.

As my last post recently stated, I’ve been really sad lately. The root causes likely have to do with being in a foreign country, processing through 2 deaths, getting unwanted attention everywhere I go, and being extremely frustrated with the Mozambican education system. While being in Florida among family did open my eyes up to some things that I love about Mozambique—my students, my friendships, my secondary projects—being in America for 10 days definitely didn’t cure my sadness. Shortly after posting “Refreshed Ambition”, I hit another low and I can’t really explain why. Maybe I was idealizing the way I was feeling while removed from this place, but re-entering caused the frustrations that had been weighing me down to resurface. I felt like I took 3 steps forward and then 5 steps right back to where I was before my trip. I was frustrated with myself and my inability to dig out of the sad hole, and completely discouraged that my sad mood came back so quickly and with so much force. I felt truly paralyzed and helpless and out of control. Thank goodness Andy was there for me to lean on and give me exactly the words of encouragement I needed to pick myself back up (although slowly and with some faltering).

Today, when I woke up at 5am to return to my students after over a week, I resolved to make it a good day. I woke up early, took a hot bath, put on dressy clothes and mascara (hoping this would give me an extra boost of confidence the way feeling pretty usually does), and left extra time to enjoy my coffee. My students were tired from the previous week of test-taking but were still enthusiastic to learn. When I gave them the option between a free day with English practice “to rest their brains” or the opportunity to earn beads by working through math problems, they chose math. Never in a million years would I guess that my students would choose math over English. Then, something really awesome happened: they challenged themselves and used their own strong minds to solve some pretty tricky problems (missangas—beads— don’t come easy in Professora Sarah’s classroom!). 

For example, if I gave a problem and got nothing but wrong answers for 5 minutes, I offered to solve it for them on the board. Much to my surprise, instead of saying “okay” and giving up, they yelled “não Professora! Queremos resolver!” No, teacher! We want to solve it! I think this was the first time I actually saw them enthusiastic, instead of defeated, when presented with a challenging problem. I walked around the classroom and would circle their work where their mistake was, and they would erase and try again. Some students attempted two, three or four times. Multiple attempts of a single problem likely wouldn’t happen if a student didn’t believe that he/she could eventually get the right answer, right? I took this as a sign that my goal of building student confidence might be coming to fruition slowly but surely. 

Then I got home from school to find rat turds in my blankets on my bed. Yes, you heard me right. Rats have been crawling around in my bed. 

What a buzzkill.

I got super frustrated. I felt like my safe space—equipped with mosquito net to keep critters out—had been violated by arguably the most disgusting varmint there is. It’s like when Mozambique knows I’m feeling joy, it finds a way to smack it right back out of reach. Ugh.

In order to combat another round of negative thoughts about my current situation, I decided to devote one of my many unused journals to happy thoughts/moments. Perhaps encouraging myself to not only acknowledge the good stuff, but take the time to write it down, would help drown out the crud that was causing me sadness and frustration. Maybe in the long run it won’t make a difference, but at this point anything is worth a shot.

So I opened up the first page and googled “quotes about happiness” (because I’m ridiculously cheesy) and filled the first page with words about happiness that aren’t my own. Although equal parts girly, Pinteresty and embarrassing, I’m ok with it because this choice turned a potentially frustrating situation into a joyful one later in the day. Stay tuned.

So, I wrote down lots of quotes not far from rainbows, butterflies and unicorns and then proceeded to fill the next two pages with some of my best memories here in Mozambique. Most of them included either students, beaches or Andy, which I don’t think is a bad thing in the least. This little activity got my mind back to neutral and I was able to continue my exciting day of test-grading. 

I decided to go for a run around 4pm, which is over an hour before kids get out of school, in hopes that the streets would be leaning towards the empty side. Well, no such luck. Within the first quarter mile, four kids started running with me. I immediately felt myself getting frustrated because running is Sarah time and anyone who interrupts it is an asshole. Leave me alone you little shits.

But instead I remembered two of the quotes I had written down just hours before: 

“Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.”

and

“The best way to pay for a lovely moment is to enjoy it.”

So I did exactly that. I asked them what their names were and told them they could continue with me for as long as they wanted. I learned that they are in 9th grade and they walk for over an hour each day to get to school. I told them my name is Sarah and that I like to run. They said they like to run, too. After that, our conversation dwindled to breathing, scuffling sandals, and the sound of their book bags slapping their backs. I didn’t feel the need to slow down or speed up or make conversation. They were content with my company, and surprisingly, I allowed myself to be content—instead of resentful—with theirs. They ran with me for two miles before I turned around to head home, at which point I silently gave them my respect: they walk at least two and a half miles to school every single day in nearly 100-degree heat…and likely without much complaining. 

I invited them to run with me next time. I asked them to remember my name and promised that I would try to remember theirs. I gave them high fives. They gave me thumbs ups and said tchau and we parted ways. I have no idea how much further they had to walk before arriving at home. Maybe at this point it’s better than I don’t know.

And here are two lessons for myself:

1. Cheesy feel good-quotes usually used as the desktop backgrounds of yuppies or yoga instructors do have a place in this world and in my life. I might not ever admit that again, but today it’s true.

2. In order for me to love this community I need to give it a chance. I need to be open to the people I pass on the streets, including—and perhaps most importantly—the crianças (children). If I continue to be closed off and angry, there is minimal chance for love and joy.

I’m not going to give credit to rat shit for teaching me this lesson...but maybe it had a little bit to do with it.

Até próxima.

Until next time.

Refreshed Ambition

Last Thursday I left my house in Manjacaze to spend 62 hours traveling to Tampa, FL for my Grandpa Nick’s Celebration of Life ceremony. I was having major anxiety about the trip for many reasons. 

First off, I had to take multiple chapas to get to the bus station, an over night bus to Johannesburg (walked across the border in the middle of the night), a train from the bus station to the airport, spend 14 hours in the airport waiting for my flight to leave, and then three planes taking me from Johannesburg to Frankfurt to Chicago to Tampa. The sheer amount of time not sleeping horizontally, and navigating from Maputo to the Joburg airport for the first time was enough stress as it is. But there’s more…

The past month has been really hard for me. First, grandpa died. Then our fellow (smart, witty and beautiful) volunteer Drew died within two weeks of each other. I had never processed through the death of a loved one before and now I had two people that I knew and cared about die within the same month. And my family is across the globe. Mozambique became 1000x more foreign to me during the weeks following those two deaths. Quite frankly, I hated everything. I cried every morning when I woke up and every night before I went to bed. I had to muster up lots of energy to do anything…but at the same time if I stopped moving the pain would come rushing through my veins full blast and I would keel over with unstoppable tears. Try maintaining continuous movement with the energy level and motivation of a clinically depressed person. It’s pretty grueling. 

While my students do motivate me, pressure was building in that arena, too, because provincial exams were fast-approaching and I was behind in the curriculum. I wanted my students to be set up for success and I wasn’t sure I would have enough time before leaving for the States to cover all the material that would show up on the test. I did the best I could and I’m still not sure it was enough. 

I was resenting the kissing and the hissing more than usual, dreaded leaving my house to face unwanted attention from literally everyone, and wasn’t even cooking real meals. Yogurt and granola was normal for dinner. I couldn’t control my moods and would go from happy to sad to happy to angry to normal to pissed to happy to sad without being able to predict when these moods would come or even where they were coming from. I was a disaster to be around and I knew it but couldn’t help it. It was bad. 

My return flight to Moz was scheduled to leave Tampa on Friday, April 22, which also happens to be my birthday. After a week with close family, zero unwanted male attention, running water and working out in a gym, I wasn’t sure I would be able to get on the plane and come back to Moz. That was my biggest source of anxiety: What if I can’t get on the plane?

…

Then something beautiful happened. 

I stayed with my good college friend Kendall my first two nights in Tampa, and as I was telling her all about what my life was like there, I called Mozambique “home” without even realizing it. I enjoyed talking about my life there, my projects, neighbors and students. I wasn’t telling her about the shit that I hated, I was telling her about my wins and my adventures and this amazing man who I know is my person. Sure, I mentioned the lack of anonymity and the disorganized education system, which are struggles for me, but most of my stories were told with a joy and passion that had temporarily disappeared over the last month. At one point, Kendall and NIck said, “I couldn’t do what you’re doing.”

And I said, “I can.”

And I believed it. I Can.

Throughout the week I shared stories of my successes, struggles, embarrassing moments, joyful moments, and ridiculously awesome adventures with my dad, mom, aunts and grandma. I did so with a feeling of pride and a subtle longing to go back. Needless to say, that surprised me…in the best way. 

My stories made me realize not only that I belong here, and I have already created so many memories that I wouldn’t trade for the world, but also that I am making a difference in the lives of my students. Their grades aren’t all As and they will likely still try to cheat right in front of my face, but there are little hints along the way that let me know that I have planted some seeds. And in time they will bloom into some pretty extraordinarily bright human beings. 

This morning (or actually yesterday morning) before I left for the Tampa airport, my Grandma Ginnie (a true pearl) looked me in the eyes, and as tears ran down her face said,

“You are making a difference Sarah. I know it. You make a difference to everyone who knows you. Just remember that.” And I told her I love her. And I left with a feeling of refreshed ambition to do what I went to Mozambique to do.

So here I am sitting in the bus station waiting to take an 11-hour ride from Johannesburg to Maputo and I am not sad. I am rejuvenated. I am ready to take the wonderful with the terrible and start each day with a deep breath and end each day with a feeling of contentedness, at the very least. I know that some days will still be nearly unbearable and other days will be filled with so much joy I might explode. And that’s okay. Because I know I can do it.