Dallas No. Kansas No. Manjacaze Yes.

I wrote before about integration—what it is or isn’t and how long it takes and how do you know if you’re “integrated” etc. After approximately nine months at site, I wanted to write a [hopefully insightful] update on where I’m at in terms of that incredibly abstract goal that all PCVs have called integration. 

By definition, integration means the intermixing of people or groups that were previously segregated. Although we typically think of “segregation” as being between races, and it’s true that my community is large majority black, and I’m obviously white, this is not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the intermixing part. I want to be a member of the community that is more than just physically living here in my beautiful almost-paradise quintal (fenced-in yard) and my flushing toilet. I want my neighbors to know me, know why I’m here and know about the work I do. I want my students to understand what makes me super happy with them, or so angry with them that I can’t spit out Portuguese so I scream at them in English. I want to contribute projects that are not only needed by the community, but are also driven by it. I want my colleagues to trust that I care first and foremost about my students’ learning, and follow my lead in terms of commitment to the job. 

Back in January, in this post, I mentioned some ways that indicated I was taking baby steps towards integration: 

• Some neighborhood kids know my name is Sarah.
• I made one friend (Filipe).
• A Mãe in the market says hi to me. 
• I had a conversation with some men and we didn’t talk about sex and marriage the entire time.
• I did some work at school, which didn’t require much of my abundant intelligence. (That was kind of a joke kind of). 
• People comment on my Portuguese.
• People acknowledge me when I run, but don’t laugh at me.
• I hear more “Sarah” than “Mulungu”. 

And, in retrospect, after living here for a month and a half, I think that was a good start. But now, 7 months and 2 school trimesters later, I have some more updates. And they are exciting and make me smile. I hope they make you smile too. 

I Feel Like a Real Teacher with Medium-to-High Effectiveness. 

The proof is in the pudding…or the protesting…

Andy and I went to Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe to run a half marathon in early July. I took a full week off of school, which was approved by the school director. I left each Chefe de Turma (boss of the class) with materials that should be reviewed and worked on while I was out. I would be collecting their work when I returned from my trip. All went well. Then, I was invited to a Let Girls Learn conference in Maputo only a week later. My director said that I, along with my counterpart Amada and a student Berta, could go as long as I had another 11th or 12th grade math teacher cover my classes. Fair enough. I appreciate that my school director holds me accountable for my work, while also understanding that there are other things I want/need to do over the two years I am here. So I asked my Delegado (the dude who is in charge of all the math teachers for 11th and 12th grade) if he could help me get my classes covered and he said that it wouldn’t be a problem.

So, with plans for my classes to be covered by either Arçéncio or Sombolai (note I am the only female math teacher out of 14 at my school #proud #letgirlsbemathnerds), the only thing left to do was to tell my students to expect one of those two dudes next Friday because I had to go to Maputo for Peace Corps work. I assumed that their reactions would be something like “okay whatever, prof. Most teachers don’t show up anyways so we probably wouldn’t have noticed or cared”. But instead, here’s what happened:

Me: Okay guys listen up. I know I was just gone last week, but I will be missing Friday as well. I have to go to Maputo for a conference and the director gave me permission as long as another teacher comes to give my lesson. So, on Friday either Arçénio or Sombolai will be here teaching in my place. Está bem? Is that fine? (I assumed that was a rhetorical question).

Students: NOOOOOO!!!! TEACHER NOOOOO! We can’t learn anything from them! They can’t teach us anything that we will actually understand! 

Me: What? They teach math so they already know what they’re doing. Não estou a entender. I am not understanding.

Students all quiet down, and Nélcia, daughter of Mana Marta, stands up and explains:

Nélcia: Teacher. We can’t learn from them. We had them in other years and they don’t teach us, they just talk and don’t explain. Não apanhamos a informação. We don’t grasp the material. Só podemos aprender de Professora Sarah. Não os outros. We can only learn from Teacher Sarah. Not the others. [Other students loudly agree] Sim, é isso! Yes. That. 

Well, after experiencing a brief moment of pride-inducing speechlessness, I made an agreement with my students that I wouldn’t have the other teachers teach anything new, and that they would just practice topics we already learned. 

Roughly the same dialogue happened when I told my other two classes the plan for that Friday. While it made me feel a little uneasy about missing class, it also was very reassuring. I found a way to present my material that allows my students to really grasp it, instead of just writing confusing notes and hoping for the best on test day.

I mean, that’s the most important job of a teacher, right?

Some of my favorite students.

Sarah Novele?

I have a family here in Manjacaze. I’ve talked about them a little before, but the longer I live here, the more part of the family I become. The Novele’s, Mana Marta, Ércio (21yo), Nélcia (15yo), Selma (12yo) and Lindo (7yo), live about a 5-minute walk away from me. To paint a picture of their house: The main structure is L-shaped and made of all reed without windows. There is a tin roof and open-air gaps separate the roof from the walls. There is one door for entrance, which doesn’t quite fit in the door frame so it’s a struggle to open/close it. The smaller part of the L is Mana Marta’s room, divided off by a curtain. The larger part of the L is divided into two sections by another curtain: One section is the fridge, kitchen table, chairs, and television. Pots, pans and utensils hang from the walls. The other section is a room with one bed, where Nélcia, Selma and Lindo sleep. There is a small round hut made of mud and reed where Ércio stays. A separate small structure, also made of reed and tin is where the cooking takes place. They call it a kitchen but in reality it’s a room with some coal. They live here happily, and I visit enough that I have to stop and think before realizing that, yes, my favorite family lives in poverty. Now, 9 months in and quasi part of the family, I just see it as their house, where I sometimes watch American rap videos with the kids.

Mana Marta and I have had multiple conversations about Mozambican culture; her husband, his other two wives, and her dissatisfaction with the whole situation; opportunities for women, or the lack thereof; the civil unrest that’s currently happening in the northern part of the country; my mom and dad and multiple step dads and step moms; the fact that I only want one kid; my current relationship with Andy and my past relationship with Dave; the fact that her son dropped out of school (10th grader at age 21) and how I’m pissed about it and so is she; her ability to be a positive role model for her daughters, and many, many other things. She helped me grieve the death of my grandpa Nick. Nélcia helps me plan my lessons by giving me insight on what the students learned last year. Selma chases after me when I’m on my way to the market and shows me who has the best and cheapest carrots for sale. Lindo never really knows what’s going on, but calls me Tia Sarah (Aunt Sarah) and wants me to have a good opinion of him…

I know this because one time I was hanging out watching TV at the Novele’s and it was bath time for little Lindo. He absolutely did not want to take a bath. I ask him if he was afraid of the water and laughed at him. I sang “Lindo tem medo de agua!” Lindo is afraid of water! He told me that wasn’t true, and when I told him to prove it…he stepped into the bucket on the ground ouside took a bath. Nélcia gave me a high five, Lindo got clean and Ércio shook his head at us. Whatever, it worked. 

They all know my family members by name, including Lucy, and ask me how they are doing. I know that I can stop by their house anytime of the day and I will be welcomed and fed. When I bring paper and crayons, I’m the best Aunt there ever was. If I stop by for ten minutes, tell them I’m having a busy week, they wish me luck and send me on my way. Mana Marta asks me to cut my hair and give it to her, although by now the answer will be a no indefinitely. It feels normal and casual and comfortable, although Mozambique is still in many ways a foreign country to me.

Me, Mana Marta, Nélcia.

Mana Marta, Selma, Me.

One day, when we were sitting on a concrete stoop that sits in their yard, Mana Marta told me that when it’s time for me to leave, she will cry. She said that she will never forget me, that the way I carry myself is respectable and that she’s lucky her daughter has me as a teacher. She told me that even if I left tomorrow, people would cry. People know me here, they love me and they care about me. She said that the community knows that I have faith and heart even though I don’t go to church. 

I told her not to cry yet, we still have over a year to go.

Integration Indicators

There are always little hints that remind me that slowly but surely, I am integrating into this Manjacaze community. Seven months later, these happenings look a little different than they did when I first arrived with the single task of “integrate”. Some of these things might seem inconsequential—and probably would be in the States—but here, they are little wins. 

• Sometimes kids on the street try to run next to me when I pass. Some days I enjoy it and we run together for a mile or so, and other days I just need time to run by myself. Now, when I say “não hoje” (not today), they know to leave me to run on my own. 
• I choose to spend free time with my Mozambican family, instead of always staying at home with my comfortable American roommate.
• I know enough Portuguese to joke around with my colleagues…and they actually think I’m funny sometimes*.

*twice.

• I don’t have to psych myself up to teach every lesson. It’s becoming more natural, and therefore more enjoyable.
• Three separate secondary projects have started in their own time and as a response to student/community interest. REDES, English Theater and Mozambelleza (more on this to come—stay tuned!). I stopped trying to force projects that I thought would be beneficial and instead worked with other community members to develop some cool and fun things. 
• I buy bread from the same lady every day. She calls me amiga and knows that I want one bread and 5 bajias (if I need plástico). If I brought my own plastic bag, she gives me an extra bajia to make it an even 10 mets. 
• The lady that washes our clothes and cleans the kitchen has a son. His name is Mindo. He is almost 2 years old. On Fridays when they come, he lays in my bed and I give him kid books to “read”. He calls me by name and is slowly learning that when he speaks Xangana, I don’t understand a word he’s saying.
• I’ve ignored the carpenters that hit on me and kiss at me long enough that they don’t do it anymore (unless I’m with another white chick).
• My colleagues take interest in how I teach and motivate my students. A couple of them have sat in and watched me teach, and a couple others have started half-assed incentive systems (hey, it’s a start). 
• I feel comfortable walking down the street. I still do not have any anonymity, but I’m slowly getting used to it. I have more friendly days than bitchy days, and more often than not I welcome a random conversation with a stranger. 

So, am I “integrated”? Did I reach my goal? I don’t know. How do you measure something like that? There isn’t a Finish Line to be crossed here. But I can definitely say that I’ve made progress. Patience, an open mind and an open heart are the main contributors. Hard work is a secondary contributor. Living among welcoming, beautiful people a necessity. 

Dallas isn’t home. Kansas isn’t home. 

Manjacaze is home. I like that. 

Three orphan boys that live with the nuns.

Berta, Me and Amada at a Let Girls Learn conference.

Berta and Amada being silly at dinner.

We Rise High

Today, we finally had our first REDES meeting in Manjacaze. REDES stands for Raparigas em Desenvolvimento na Educação e Saude or Girls Developing in Education and Health. REDES is designed to have regularly scheduled meetings, each meeting highlighting a different important topic relating to girls’ health and well-being. REDES provides a curriculum, activities, discussion points, everything. The only thing we as facilitators need to do is round up some girls and schedule a date. Sounds easy enough, right?

Wrong.

Up until this point, I wasn’t sure if a meeting would ever actually happen (thus, it was uncertain whether this would turn into a project, or remain an idea). We did take three girls to a REDES workshop, where they learned a lot about being student activists for women and girls in the community, with the idea to bring the learnings back to share with a larger group of students…but that was in May. 

Between May and August, we have been playing calendar Tetrus with myself, Amada (my Mozambican counterpart) and the students. Tenth, eleventh, twelfth and eighth graders go to school from 7am-12pm daily. However, ninth graders go to school from 12:15pm-5:30pm daily, and girls that live in the boarding school can’t be out past dark (boys can do whatever they want because they’re boys, but that discussion is for another time *eye roll*). This means that weekdays would not work. Many girls have either church, family obligations or domestic responsibilities to tend to on Saturdays, and nobody (seriously…nobody) does anything besides church on Sundays. That left Saturdays as our best bet—and the bet wasn’t a very good one. 

After three months of trying to work with everybody’s schedules, and becoming increasingly frustrated at the continued delay (I’m not patient…like, at all), I decided to just pick a day, tell it to my counterpart, Amada, and see who could show up. Without starting somewhere…anywhere we were never going to have a meeting and this group would end before it started. Because there were some girls in 12th grade constantly asking me when we were going to start, this was a project I didn’t want to give up on. 

I chose Saturday, August 6th, because provincial exams just ended the previous week and the next week would be the last week of the trimester…aka no learning happens and kids just hang around at school and chat before going home early (productive, right?). So, students didn’t have homework to worry about this weekend, and tests are already out of the way (assuming they study…which test scores show that they don’t…). After getting the information out to students all last week, I’m excited to report that 21 girls showed up at 8am on that Saturday morning to talk about girl stuff. Actually, 2 girls showed up at 8am and the rest trickled in between 8:30 and 10am. #CantWinEmAll

Amada couldn’t make it because she had to attend the graduation of a family member…although whose I’m still not quite sure. So, this 4 hour session for girls was all mine, all by myself, to make as awesome or as shitty as the universe deemed it to be. Although it felt like a lot, especially since many of the girls joined the group because they had a close relationship with Amada, and didn’t even know me yet, I was still very excited. I knew that I didn’t want this session to feel like school, so it had to have fun, non-lecture activities. I paired the REDES curriculum with my own ideas and came up with a schedule that was equal parts hands-on activities and thought-provoking discussions. 

Our schedule was this: 

Translated: Introductions; Drawing activity—goals and successes; Gender roles; Snack break and game; Avoiding unwanted sexual advances. 

When 8 girls had showed up, around 8:30am, I decided to begin. I gave each girl a worksheet that had two big blank boxes: one to draw something that they’ve done in their lives that they are very proud of, and one to draw a goal for themselves after they finish secondary school. I explained to them what a Vision Board was, and told them these drawings would serve as the foundation of each of their vision boards. They loved this idea, and were excited to add more drawings to their collection at the beginning of our next session. 

So, I’m sure you’re wondering, what were the girls’ past successes and future goals? Many successes had something to do with staying in school, never failing a grade, or being the first person in their family to graduate 7th grade. Girls leave school for a plethora of reasons, including but not limited to: pregnancy, premature marriage, domestic responsibilities (their families think that their time is better spend washing clothes and cooking dinner), or financial issues. When a girl finishes 12th grade, it’s a big freaking deal…and my REDES girls know that, and are proud to have made it this far. Most of their future goals had to do with higher education and careers. This made me happy: Marriage and children are not the end all be all for my girls’ futures. They know there is more out there than being a stay-at-home mom and that made me smile. Not only that, when each girl presented her future goal, the rest of the group hooted and hollered and cheered them on. Even the girls from different grades who weren’t friends were proud and supportive of each other. 

After the drawing activity, we started a session on Gender Roles. I divided the girls into two groups: a boy group and a girl group. The task was for each group to prepare a teatrinho (short skit) to demonstrate societal expectations of boys and girls. At first the girls didn’t really know what to do, but after I started asking questions about “how are girls and boys treated differently” they got to talking. They spent 30 minutes preparing their skits, and then each group presented it to the other.

The girls team went first, and their skit went something like this: A girl and a guy are dating and all of the girl’s friends are supportive of the relationship. He does not go to school because he is older, so she skips school a lot to spend time with him. Her friends all like the idea of it and giggle about it and do all the things that girlfriends do when their friend is dating someone new (and older and quite literally too cool for school). Then the girl gets pregnant, her friends disown her, she gets kicked out of school and the boyfriend wants nothing to do with her or the baby. The boy continues his life as usual and the girl’s life is drastically different from here on out. 

The boys team went second, and their skit went something like this: A teenage son in a family stays out late partying with his friends and comes home drunk in the small hours of the morning. He doesn’t get in trouble and gets excused from going to church the next day because he was out so late. The daughter of the family isn’t allowed out after dark and has to get up really early the next morning to do chores before church. She doesn’t get much time with her friends and she’s not allowed to date. Oh yeah, and her dad beats her when she mentions that her brother never has to do any housework. 

I could tell by the way these girls were acting that both of these situations were very real to them. After each group presented, we talked about general expectations for boys and girls. The main theme that kept coming up was that the girls want the same freedom the boys have. The girls know that they are as smart as the boys but don’t get treated that way. They have to work extra hard to earn respect. They are expected to be sexually active but are the only ones who have to deal with the consequences. One girl knew from memory that women make 37% less annual income than men. 

Exact quote: “There is discrimination against women in every place in Mozambique. We want that to change”. 

I challenged them to think of ways that we as women could slowly start to overcome the current struggles women here face. Some ideas were: Work together to educate people about women’s abilities. Prove to people that girls are just as smart and as capable as boys. Reject propositions for premature marriage. Finish secondary school. Teach girls how to use feminine condoms so that it’s not solely the boy’s choice to have safe sex. 

The girls decided that the best way to start this process of spreading information is to give palestras (presentations) to the school and the broader community about important topics that affect women (income generation; premature marriage; STD testing; safe sex, etc). We planned our first palestra to be the second week of the new trimester, and the girls are pumped!

Next we ate cake. I made three chocolate-cinnamon cakes with cinnamon-vanilla icing (to die for, if I do say so myself) and the girls loved it. Cake is rare, and chocolate cake is basically unheard of here. It was good stuff. While they were eating I asked them to fill out a questionnaire ranking topics that they want to cover in future meetings. I explained that these sessions are for them, not for me, so they should be the ones to decide what we learn about. 

The ten topic choices were:

• Communicating with Others
• Making Good Decisions
• Healthy Friendships
• Communicating with Adults
• My Body is Changing—Is it Normal?
• Pregnancy: How Does it Happen?
• How to Communicate with a Partner
• Avoiding Unwanted Pregnancy
• STDs/HIV
• Money and Sales

I asked the girls to rank the topics in order of importance, 1 being the most important and 10 being the least important. The three most important topics were:

Avoiding Unwanted Pregnancy

STDs/HIV

My Body is Changing—Is it Normal?

So, it looks like we have a plan moving forward. While these topic choices were not surprising to me, maybe they are to you. These are topics that our parents talk to us about when we are in our early teens, and it’s what 7th grade health class is for. However, these girls don’t have this information built into their educational plan. Without a concrete opportunity to learn about this stuff, most girls are left with many unanswered questions about their bodies and their health, with nobody to talk to about it except for their friends—who most likely have the same questions and confusion. 

I told the girls that it’s good to have somebody they can go to with questions about their health and well-being. I told them that I understand that sometimes you don’t want to tell your mom about your personal business—especially when you’re 16 years old. I offered to be a person that they can come to and talk about things—all the things— and that I would not judge and I would keep their secrets so long as keeping these secrets didn’t threatened their safety. The girls smiled. They thanked me. They sighed of relief. This whole growing up thing is hard and confusing, and nobody should have to do it alone. 

The last thing we talked about was avoiding unwanted sexual advances. In Mozambican culture, men aren’t very good at taking no for an answer. Additionally, many families see older, financially stable men as the only potential source for their daughters to have a less-poverty-stricken future. Girls get pressured into being with men they likely don’t love because they feel like they don’t have other options. During this session, we read a couple hypothetical stories about girls in situations where they were experiencing unwanted sexual advances. We discussed what the girls could do to better their situations and what the community could do to help lessen these instances.

The main takeaway from this lesson was “don’t be afraid to say no”. The girls repeated multiple times: you have to say no, mean it and stick to it. Don’t let men boss you around and make you do things that you don’t want to do. We as women have the right to decide when to enter into a relationship, when to be sexually active and who to marry. They agreed that men will continue to make choices for women so long as women allow men to make choices for them. The girls set a goal for themselves: Not only will they say no—and say it strongly—when they need to, but they will encourage their friends to do so as well.

Our session ended with a poem about self-esteem:

A nossa auto-estima já foi deitada abaixo antes

Mas Nós somos sobreviventes e não vamos permitir que isso volte acontecer 

Nós lutamos para chegar até aqui

E, ás vezes, na nossa luta, nós caímos

Mas no fim nós sempre nos erguemos bem alto

Our self-esteem was put down before

But we are survivors and we won’t let this happen again

We fought to arrive where we are now

And at times, in our fight, we fall

But in the end, we rise high

When the poem was finished being read, by one of the younger girls in a tiny and high-pitched voice, there was a brief silence and then a loud applause. It was a really powerful moment. The girls let feeling hopeful, empowered, and excited to give our first palestra at school in a couple of weeks.

I left feeling proud that the meeting ran well, that the girls had fun, and they seemed to learn. I left feeling impressed by the girls’ commitment to themselves, each other, and their futures. I left feeling in awe of their strength and their enthusiasm to fight for improved treatment of women and girls. 

I left feeling grateful to be a part of their lives in this way.

Girls drawing their successes and goals

Girls planning their skits

One girl brought her neice along, who loved watching the skits!

Little Girls. Big Dreams.