Peace Love & Polygons: Spritely American Visitors

Throughout the past month, I’ve had two friends visit. Maria, a friend I met in Dallas working at Reasoning Mind [link], and Ian, a high school friend who also happened to move to Dallas not long after college. Maria and Ian also know each other through me and Dallas. Both are well-traveled and open-minded; the latter is a certain necessity for gaining visitor’s right from yours truly.

Since I’ve been here for two years, things that felt new, different, exciting and/or unbearable have become completely normal. So, it was very insightful to have two Americans visit me this late in my service, to be reminded of all the differences between here and the good ‘ol land of the free. It also gave me insight on the things here that I really do cherish, the work I’ve done that I’m proud of, the friends and students I want my American friends to know, and the basic living amenities that I no longer take for granted (which many in the “developing world” do indeed take for granted).

I’ll use this post to write about some insights that I gained from having visitors this late into my service.

Cock Roaches are Not Scary

Maria: There’s a cockroach in the sink! What do I do?

Me: Keep using the sink?

Ian: I’ve killed a couple cock roaches.

Me: Me too. But mostly now I just ignore them.

I’m a Bucket Bath Pro

Maria: The sponge bath wasn’t so bad.

Ian: [Partway through his bucket bath, through the wall]: Sarah! Can I use the sink to rinse my hair?”

Me: *sigh* Amateur.

I am Protective of Mozambique

It’s true that I experience frustrations with the lack of development in the country on a daily basis. The transportation system is terrible, the electricity is unreliable, the school system is ass-backwards, and pretty much anything you want to get done happens as slowly and as inefficiently as possible. (Don’t worry, I’m not holding back).

But when Ian or Maria mentioned anything related to the shortcomings of Nossa Teirra Gloriosa (our glorious land—how Moz is called in the National Anthem), I was very quick to defend it. When the Portuguese finally left Mozambique after colonizing it for nearly 500 years, they did not do so amicably. Rather, upon losing the 11-year revolutionary war against Mozambican natives, they completely destroyed almost all of the infrastructure and businesses that the Portuguese had built, leaving the country in ruins to a population of formerly oppressed people lacking education and skills. This was in 1975. I know time goes by fast, but just to remind you, 1975 was only 42 years ago. Just FORTY TWO YEARS AGO (your parents are definitely older than that, and you might be too), this entire country was robbed of any semblance of structure and left to be completely rebuilt by a population that had been taught to obey instead of think for the past 500 years. I think we can all agree that Mozambique was absolutely not set up for success. To add insult to injury, two years after independence was gained, a civil war broke out between the group that mainly led the liberation movement (FRELIMO) and an opposition group, RENAMO, which was conveniently funded by white-ruled neighboring countries of South Africa during apartheid and Rhodesia, which is now Zimbabwe, as an effort to keep Mozambique moving in a political direction favorable to its white neighbors.

The civil war didn’t end until 1992. I was alive in 1992. Mozambique was not in a state stable enough to start rebuilding (or, really, building for the first time) country infrastructures and social systems until 1992. That was 25 years ago.

I was the first person to say that while there are a lot of things wrong in this country, considering how young it is and the tribulations it has been through, I think it’s doing pretty damn well. I am the first person to defend the school system immediately after pointing out that it fails in reaching its goal of effectively teaching children. I am the first person to explain, in a positive light, the lack of safe and reliable transportation, even though chapas have made me angry cry on more than one occasion. When the lack of resources or relatively low standard of living here is brought up in conversations, I’m the first one to demand compassion from locals and foreigners: Mozambique is young and certainly has its struggles and shortcomings, but it is strong and resilient.

So, in a way, Mozambique is like my little brother. I can complain about it and be mean to it, but as soon as someone else does, I’m the first to defend it.

People Can Find Similarities No Matter Where They Come From

Given the circumstances, I'm sure that my friends did not expect to do many "normal" American pastimes while visiting me here. However, we did. Maria and my host sister and student, Nelcia, listened to Girl on Fire by Alicia Keys on repeat. While I was in a school meeting, they went for a stroll and lost the keys to my gate somewhere along the way (something I do all the time). Mana Marta cooked a nice meal for both guests, and presented each with gifts. Ian and my host family played Uno, and got way too competitive about it. We made silly jokes and picked on each other and belly laughed. My students asked Maria how old she was, and danced like Michael Jackson with Ian. Maria brought Natalinha, Mana Marta's niece, a brand new pair of red Converse sneakers and she loved them. (She feels super cool wearing them and works very hard at keeping them clean). We made homemade pizza in a brick over with my good friend Geraldo, and had engaging conversations about traveling, politics and culture. Ian taught one of my classes the Macarena, and they impressed him with the first verse of the Star Spangled Banner (in English!). Ian and Maria were just as confused about derivatives as they were. LOL. There was definitely a language barrier and some cultural differences; as to be expected. But my favorite part of each trip was the night we spent at Mana Marta's just hanging out with her family. We poked fun at each other, talked about how good the food was, played cards and, at times, sat in comfortable silence. I'm so glad that Ian and Maria got to meet my Mozambican family, share a meal with them, and see for themselves just how similar we are in many ways.

Above: video of Ian and Diaz doing MJ's famous crotch grab. I don't know how to turn the video the right way, so just tilt your head.

My House is Actually Not Luxurious

Compared to other Peace Corps houses, my house is pretty damn fine. (If I do say so myself…)

I have a bathroom connected to my room with a toilet that actually flushes. I have space in said bathroom to take a bucket bath without worrying about cold and/or windy weather. The bathroom also has a sink and a mirror where I can brush my teeth. It has tiled walls and a tiled floor and I bought some plastic shelves to keep my two-year supply of shampoo, conditioner and tampons. Minus a hot shower, my bathroom offers all the components of a States bathroom and I feel super lucky about that.

My room is spacious and has a closet with space to hang clothes, and some built-in shelves. I have two outlets and window curtains. The kitchen also has a sink with running water, which makes doing dishes super easy. It has a gas stove with one working burner, a refrigerator and shelves for food and shelves for books and two tables and 6 chairs. The kitchen has a blender for smoothies and an electric oven for cakes. My living situation does not leave me wanting/needing anything I don’t currently have. It’s one, if not the, nicest house on the block.

My yard has passion fruit trees, banana trees, one giant avocado tree, papaya trees, moringa trees, and pineapple bushes. Depending on the season, the garden in our yard gives green peppers, tomatoes, lettuce, carrots, and onions. We have a reed fence that borders the yard to allow for safety and privacy.

Because of all this fancy stuff, I was really proud to introduce my house to my visitors. However, to my surprise, they were not impressed. I didn’t get ooooohs, aaaaaahs, or wooowwwwws. They were not unimpressed, like “ew gross” or “yikes”, but they definitely weren’t overly enthusiastic about all the amenities my house had to offer.

What. A. Buzzkill.

So, I stopped and thought about their reaction and why it was so different from my expectation. To do this, I had to put back on my USA shades, to see my house through the eyes of a spritely American. Here’s what I saw:

A house made out of half cement and half reed sticks, without insolation. A bathroom whose toilet seat was mounted crooked and that does not have a working shower. A living room without a couch or a TV, instead a plastic table and chairs. The kitchen offers plastic shelves, a college dorm room-sized fridge, stove burners propped up on cinder blocks that’s covered in years of splattered oil. An oven that doesn’t have a temperature regulator, a blender whose knob has long been lost, and plastic yogurt containers repurposed into tupperware. A wicker bookshelf whose shelves sink in the middles, and a second table with stains and chips all over. My kitchen has a broken window and a plastic trunk that’s used as a side table and one fluorescent white lightbulb.

Although it helped me understand why my visitors weren’t over-the-top impressed with my sweet digs, I did not like those USA shades one bit. They encouraged me to compare what I have here to what is standard and normal—expected—in the States…but for what? I’m not in the States and I haven’t been for two years. My house serves me well—better than well, really, and I like it. I’m comfortable here, I am safe here, and I can practice self care here. I can bathe and cook and eat and sleep and relax with a good book and a hot cup of coffee. Here is where I come to after a long day of school or a frustrating trip to the provincial capital, or a long run on a hot day. My house serves me. It has everything I need and I was glad to host my visitors and show them how I live: comfortably, safely, and with gratitude.

My USA shades encouraged me to find faults in my current living situation, while my Moz shades supported my gratitude for my home. Often times, reality is all about perspective.

There is Not Just One Formula for Happiness.

Both visitors made comments about how happy my neighbors, friends and students were, despite the daily difficulties of life in Manjacaze. Most families have to cart water multiple times a day; women tend to their gardens all day in the heat, just to feed their families. Students walk up to two hours to get to school, and some days their teachers don’t show up to teach. Women sit on the side of the road all day selling bread, and boys roam the market selling hard boiled eggs, or cookies, or phone credit. All day every day, people work. But they also smile. A friendly hello from a passerby is expected; seeing women chatting, laughing and singing while they work in the hot sun is common. Kids get excited to find a piece of trash they can use as a toy, such as making old plastic bags and string into kites. Neighbors blast music and dance. Teenagers watch American music videos on their phones, and try to learn the choreography. Older sisters play makeshift checkers with their younger brothers. Mothers and grandmothers play silly peek-a-boo games with their children, and entire families lay on a single straw mat and watch cartoons on TV.

The work is hard. The sun is hot. The pay is little. The amenities are lacking. Sometimes, there is doubt about where the next meal will come from. Water is heavy and hand-washing clothes leaves raw knuckles. Air conditioning doesn’t exist, and often times “bed” is synonymous with “floor”. Shoes have holes and clothes have stains and hand-me-downs and randomly-founds are much more common than new products.

But there is love. There is family strength and support. There are jokes and music and games. There is mindless television and ice cold water, and yummy cake on special occasions. There are babies’ first words, and fancy meat-filled meals. There is hospitality and gratitude and tea drinking and hair braiding and story telling.

There is a special mozambican pride that exudes from this country’s people. It’s something that is contagious, and my visitors felt it right away. Of all the souvenirs you can buy in the capital city’s art market, nothing beats the privilege of sharing Mozambican Good Vibes with some of the nicest and most giving people I’ve ever met.

Thank you, Maria and Ian, for your open minds and open hearts. Thank you for taking the time to travel to the other side of the world to know a new culture and meet some great friends. Thank you for being great ambassadors of the United States. And most of all, thank you for allowing me the opportunity to see my experience here in another new and different light.