I want everyone to know how much what happened today means to me. First of all, let me say that the people at the post office here in XX are difficult to deal with at times because they can get pretty busy and because it takes FOREVER to get a care package then when it finally arrives you have to wait HOURS for customs to come to open your box and sign off on stuff. One time they told me they lost a care package of mine, just to find out that someone had placed it in the back waiting for me the whole time.
My parents recently EXPRESSED a care package to me with Thanksgiving supplies. Though it was supposed to arrive in less than a week, I was not expecting to get it until much later.
While I was home today I got a phone call from a strange number and when I answered the guy was talking really fast and told me he was from the government or something. He definitely did not say he was from the post office. I asked what he needed with me and he said a package of mine had arrived in the post office. I told him I would come to get it. He asked me when. I said today. He spoke urgently. He asked me how long it would take me to get to the post office. I said in 30 minutes. He said no, this is urgent, let me and my coworker come deliver it. I was like, seriously, your not kidding? You are going to personally deliver my care package? He said yes, this is very important. He told me to meet him outside in ten minutes.
When I got off the phone I started to wonder if that really just happened because of all the troubles we have all had with the post office in the past. Then, I wondered if it was really all just for the care package from my parents. Maybe it was something extremely important from America? Maybe the President wants to reward me for doing such a great job in Peace Corps Mozambique? As soon as I stopped thinking ridiculously the guy called again and with the same urgency, asked where I was. I was walking towards him and he told me which car was his. I soon met him and he got out of the car and said, finally! This package arrived for you from Maputo today and I came to personally deliver it! Then he handed me the package and I immediately noticed my dad's handwriting. SWEET! It was my Thanksgiving care package! I asked the guy if we needed to go to customs and he said no because that would take very long, and that I just needed to sign something.
I will never forget this day and now I know what the post office in Xai Xai is capable of!
November 16, 2010
The Awkward Supper
Yesterday I was sitting in my house with nothing to do so I called up one of my friends, his name is Nelly. He’s also a student of my neighbor and he’s a taxi driver so sometimes he’ll give me rides and we’ll go on car rides around the city. He’s a cool friend and a few times his family has invited me over for dinner. It had been a long time that I’d gone over there for dinner until yesterday. I don’t remember it being so awkward but this time I just felt so strange. So here’s this experience.
I called Nelly up yesterday to ask if he wanted to chill for a bit. He said yes so we decided to meet. I thought we were just gonna go on a walk but he showed up in his car. Then we headed to the city and drove around for awhile and I bought a few things and he was blaring that new Rihanna & Eminem song--btw,very catchy! Then we left the city and I asked him where we were going and he said his house just for a minute to get something. Awesome, this is going to take forever. There’s no such thing as going to someone’s house and only staying five minutes. And it was also the hour to eat dinner, so this was going to take awhile. Whatever, just roll with it. So we pulled up to his house and he asked if I was going to come inside to say hello to his family. At the moment I honestly just wanted to get home because I planned to hang out with one of my girl friends but I didn’t really have a choice so of course I had to go inside and say hello. Before we walked in I prepared myself for all the typical common Mozambican greetings like “you have disappeared where have you been” even if you may have seen this person yesterday, or “you are stronger now because you have gotten fatter” I’ve learned people say this depending on whether you look thinner or fatter in the outfit you happen to be wearing, and just other things.
So, I entered. For a moment I felt like how Beyonce must feel when she steps onto stage because as soon as I entered the front yard everyone got silent then was like oh, MALLORINA! Then Nelly’s sisters came up to me to give me beijinhos (kisses on the cheeks, casual greeting). I surveyed the scene. Not uncommon at all. They were all eating dinner- caccana and xima. Caccana is very very bitter green leafy vegetable used to make a traditional caril (sauce) to be topped over rice or xima. It’s definitely my least favorite Mozambican dish because it can be very bitter and sour depending on the person that makes it. The women and children were sitting on an esteira on the ground. An esteira is a straw mat and is the equivalent of a picnic blanket. The two men, Nelly’s father and brother, were sitting in chairs and a small table not far from the rest, also eating.
Nelly’s sister pulled up a chair for me to sit-not at the table but away from the table and next to those who were on the esteira. As soon as I sat down, Nelly disappeared. So I sit down and greeted his mom in Chengana, no one was expecting that so a few giggled- my local language ability has improved since the last time I’d came over to visit. Nelly’s mom doesn’t speak Portuguese, and people only choose to translate after I give them a baffled confused look which basically says I really have no idea what’s going on. Nelly’s mom told me her back was hurting and she needs to see a doctor. Many people here think that just because I’m a mulungu that works in a hospital means that I’m able to give medical counsel. So then I felt awkward because here I am able-bodied and sitting in a chair and she’s on the ground hunched over, and I felt awkward because all I could tell her was to go to the hospital the next day and to rest and drink lots of water.
Then Nelly’s sister asked me if I liked caccana. I said no. Completely ignoring what I just said she told me to go sit at the table with the men to go eat. She said I’d like her caccana. Fine, so I sat at the table with the men. I immediately felt awkward because once again, the rest of the women were on the ground and the men in chairs at a table. Nelly still had yet to reappear.
So there I was sitting at the table with his father and brother. His mom then looked up at me and asked in Chengana if I was cold. I didn’t understand so his sister translated after I gave her “the look”. Then I greeted the men and asked his dad how was South Africa and when did he return. Then his brother gave me the bowl to serve xima and then asked me if I wanted xima quente (hot). I said no. Then he was like xima QUENTE. As if I didn’t understand. I said NO, I can finish this xima right HERE. Can we please just get this over with, I thought. Then they handed me the caccana and I put just a little over my xima. Then nelly’s sister yelled from ten feet away, “Serve yourself more!” I’ll try this first, thank you. Then I started eating and felt especially strange because I was at the men’s table, Nelly was nowhere to be found, and then everyone was talking in Chengana. I don’t usually feel awkward when people are all speaking the local language around me, I did this time because I just wasn’t comfortable. I started eating and the caccana was really bitter, I could tell by looking at it before I ate it because it was dark green-maybe it hadn’t been boiled long enough and I don’t think she added coconut milk, which usually makes carils sweeter. I tried to finish it quickly and I finished it before I ran out of xima. Nelly’s sister yelled at one of the kids, “GIVE TIA MALLORINA more of the caril, right now!” That reaction was normal but I wouldn’t say that tone is always necessary for a simple request. Then I take the bowl of caccana from this shunned child who passed it to me. “Sorry, kid.” As I put just enough caril back on my plate to finish off the xima that I had I noticed that Nelly’s dad was drinking wine. He was the only one drinking wine. Without even asking, he just poured me a glass of wine and put it in front of me. Very nice of him, yes. I felt like it was a sign of respect to be offered the wine so I accepted it. Then I felt awkward because: Nelly still hadn’t returned, everyone else was sitting on the ground except for the men and I who were sitting in chairs at a table eating, I didn’t understand anything anybody was saying in Chengana, and though they were my friend’s family, it just still felt strange because they’re not people I see often. I accepted the glass of wine and then Nelly’s dad asked me how I’ve been and where have I been. I told him last week I had traveled to Namaacha. Then, still feeling awkward and ancy, I thought he asked me what I was doing there. I went on to tell him the new group of volunteers arrived for training and I went down there to help facilitate sessions. I guess you could say I was rambling. After I finished talking, Nelly’s brother said, “NO, he asked if it RAINED while you were there.” Really, I didn’t hear him say that. By this point Nelly finally came back from God knows where and then soon after returning he left again with one of the kids because he forgot something in the car. Ok, he won’t be gone long, I thought. He was gone for at least ten minutes- enough time to feel like an eternity while you’re really waiting on someone to return. Anyways, I answered his father and said no, it didn’t rain while I was in Namaacha. Easy answer…even though it rained at least 3 days while I was there. Should I say that? I thought…Negative. It’s time to go.
Nelly came back and sat in a chair but not at the table but over by the esteira. He finished eating and talking to everyone after about 20 minutes while I was sitting there with no food and nothing to do and just listening to them in Chengana. I didn’t even have my phone or my purse to distract me because someone took it inside for me. Nelly’s dad then asked to take my plate and I said sure and then I looked at my piece of gum I had put on the side of it-awkward, why did I do that? He looked at me then at the gum with this curious look as to what I was going do with it. I picked it up in my hand, unsure to throw it away or chew it. There’s no trash pile nearby, I don’t want to seem rude throwing gum in the yard, so I started to chew it again. After seeing that he handed the plate to someone to take inside. Then I gave Nelly “the look” and then told his family it was time for me to go and thank you very much for everything. After a few minutes of saying thank you and good bye, we left and so did all the awkward feelings.Whoo!
I called Nelly up yesterday to ask if he wanted to chill for a bit. He said yes so we decided to meet. I thought we were just gonna go on a walk but he showed up in his car. Then we headed to the city and drove around for awhile and I bought a few things and he was blaring that new Rihanna & Eminem song--btw,very catchy! Then we left the city and I asked him where we were going and he said his house just for a minute to get something. Awesome, this is going to take forever. There’s no such thing as going to someone’s house and only staying five minutes. And it was also the hour to eat dinner, so this was going to take awhile. Whatever, just roll with it. So we pulled up to his house and he asked if I was going to come inside to say hello to his family. At the moment I honestly just wanted to get home because I planned to hang out with one of my girl friends but I didn’t really have a choice so of course I had to go inside and say hello. Before we walked in I prepared myself for all the typical common Mozambican greetings like “you have disappeared where have you been” even if you may have seen this person yesterday, or “you are stronger now because you have gotten fatter” I’ve learned people say this depending on whether you look thinner or fatter in the outfit you happen to be wearing, and just other things.
So, I entered. For a moment I felt like how Beyonce must feel when she steps onto stage because as soon as I entered the front yard everyone got silent then was like oh, MALLORINA! Then Nelly’s sisters came up to me to give me beijinhos (kisses on the cheeks, casual greeting). I surveyed the scene. Not uncommon at all. They were all eating dinner- caccana and xima. Caccana is very very bitter green leafy vegetable used to make a traditional caril (sauce) to be topped over rice or xima. It’s definitely my least favorite Mozambican dish because it can be very bitter and sour depending on the person that makes it. The women and children were sitting on an esteira on the ground. An esteira is a straw mat and is the equivalent of a picnic blanket. The two men, Nelly’s father and brother, were sitting in chairs and a small table not far from the rest, also eating.
Nelly’s sister pulled up a chair for me to sit-not at the table but away from the table and next to those who were on the esteira. As soon as I sat down, Nelly disappeared. So I sit down and greeted his mom in Chengana, no one was expecting that so a few giggled- my local language ability has improved since the last time I’d came over to visit. Nelly’s mom doesn’t speak Portuguese, and people only choose to translate after I give them a baffled confused look which basically says I really have no idea what’s going on. Nelly’s mom told me her back was hurting and she needs to see a doctor. Many people here think that just because I’m a mulungu that works in a hospital means that I’m able to give medical counsel. So then I felt awkward because here I am able-bodied and sitting in a chair and she’s on the ground hunched over, and I felt awkward because all I could tell her was to go to the hospital the next day and to rest and drink lots of water.
Then Nelly’s sister asked me if I liked caccana. I said no. Completely ignoring what I just said she told me to go sit at the table with the men to go eat. She said I’d like her caccana. Fine, so I sat at the table with the men. I immediately felt awkward because once again, the rest of the women were on the ground and the men in chairs at a table. Nelly still had yet to reappear.
So there I was sitting at the table with his father and brother. His mom then looked up at me and asked in Chengana if I was cold. I didn’t understand so his sister translated after I gave her “the look”. Then I greeted the men and asked his dad how was South Africa and when did he return. Then his brother gave me the bowl to serve xima and then asked me if I wanted xima quente (hot). I said no. Then he was like xima QUENTE. As if I didn’t understand. I said NO, I can finish this xima right HERE. Can we please just get this over with, I thought. Then they handed me the caccana and I put just a little over my xima. Then nelly’s sister yelled from ten feet away, “Serve yourself more!” I’ll try this first, thank you. Then I started eating and felt especially strange because I was at the men’s table, Nelly was nowhere to be found, and then everyone was talking in Chengana. I don’t usually feel awkward when people are all speaking the local language around me, I did this time because I just wasn’t comfortable. I started eating and the caccana was really bitter, I could tell by looking at it before I ate it because it was dark green-maybe it hadn’t been boiled long enough and I don’t think she added coconut milk, which usually makes carils sweeter. I tried to finish it quickly and I finished it before I ran out of xima. Nelly’s sister yelled at one of the kids, “GIVE TIA MALLORINA more of the caril, right now!” That reaction was normal but I wouldn’t say that tone is always necessary for a simple request. Then I take the bowl of caccana from this shunned child who passed it to me. “Sorry, kid.” As I put just enough caril back on my plate to finish off the xima that I had I noticed that Nelly’s dad was drinking wine. He was the only one drinking wine. Without even asking, he just poured me a glass of wine and put it in front of me. Very nice of him, yes. I felt like it was a sign of respect to be offered the wine so I accepted it. Then I felt awkward because: Nelly still hadn’t returned, everyone else was sitting on the ground except for the men and I who were sitting in chairs at a table eating, I didn’t understand anything anybody was saying in Chengana, and though they were my friend’s family, it just still felt strange because they’re not people I see often. I accepted the glass of wine and then Nelly’s dad asked me how I’ve been and where have I been. I told him last week I had traveled to Namaacha. Then, still feeling awkward and ancy, I thought he asked me what I was doing there. I went on to tell him the new group of volunteers arrived for training and I went down there to help facilitate sessions. I guess you could say I was rambling. After I finished talking, Nelly’s brother said, “NO, he asked if it RAINED while you were there.” Really, I didn’t hear him say that. By this point Nelly finally came back from God knows where and then soon after returning he left again with one of the kids because he forgot something in the car. Ok, he won’t be gone long, I thought. He was gone for at least ten minutes- enough time to feel like an eternity while you’re really waiting on someone to return. Anyways, I answered his father and said no, it didn’t rain while I was in Namaacha. Easy answer…even though it rained at least 3 days while I was there. Should I say that? I thought…Negative. It’s time to go.
Nelly came back and sat in a chair but not at the table but over by the esteira. He finished eating and talking to everyone after about 20 minutes while I was sitting there with no food and nothing to do and just listening to them in Chengana. I didn’t even have my phone or my purse to distract me because someone took it inside for me. Nelly’s dad then asked to take my plate and I said sure and then I looked at my piece of gum I had put on the side of it-awkward, why did I do that? He looked at me then at the gum with this curious look as to what I was going do with it. I picked it up in my hand, unsure to throw it away or chew it. There’s no trash pile nearby, I don’t want to seem rude throwing gum in the yard, so I started to chew it again. After seeing that he handed the plate to someone to take inside. Then I gave Nelly “the look” and then told his family it was time for me to go and thank you very much for everything. After a few minutes of saying thank you and good bye, we left and so did all the awkward feelings.Whoo!
November 2, 2010
The day I ate pork...
Wow! It's November! Sorry I haven't posted anything lately. I don't have any excuses. Ok SO, where to begin..It's the end of the year and the PCVs from Moz 13 (the group of ppl that arrived a year before me) are getting ready to leave and return to the States. This past weekend I went with a few other volunteers to Chimoio-in central Mozambique- for a conference. There's this group called Future Business Leaders of Mozambique provided thru Peace Corps. It's a good opportunity. PCVs along with local counterparts get a group of people or a whole class and offer business courses. At the end of the course, participants prepare a business plan and submit it to be judged to receive funds to start their business. FBL is funded by PEPFAR. So, I went this past weekend to the "handover" meeting, in which the former Moz 13 leaders of FBL "handed-over" the responsibilities of the group to us Moz14ers (there's 5 of us managing it now). Chimoio is about 12 hours from Xai Xai and we traveled by bus.
Thursday morning Pete and I met in Xai Xai. Pete and I were supposed to meet at 7:20 am but of course I didn't leave my house until 7:30 because I was late due to writing a letter to my dear friend Brandy. So, at 7:30 I headed to the bus stop near my house. I hardly ever catch chapas that early in the morning. This chapa rolls up and it was FULL of people. I thought people were about to start getting out but no, the cobredor just opened the door. All I saw were butts of people sticking out the sliding door and he was like, go on, get in! At first I said ummm...I dont know, maybe I'll just wait for the next one, where am I going to fit?! Then he said, just get in! So, I got in. I had my over-the-shoulder purse and my back pack. I threw my purse in the lap of some kid sitting and told the cobredor to take my back pack. Then I was hovering over this kid, my chest and head above him as he was sitting down and I was also leaning to the side over this other kid and then the cobredor was directly behind me. Awkward, yes. So I'm standing there trying not to fall as we start moving, holding on to front seat passenger chair. It's a bumpy ride from my neighborhood to the paved road. There's hills and the road is uneven so it makes the car slant as your driving. Really not fun when your standing up/hovering/holding on. I will never complain about anything ever again in America. Not really sure what happened to my back pack, I couldn't see it during the ride. I was supposed to meet Pete at the market but I decided to get off a few blocks early because my legs and arms started to hurt from trying to hold on and corners of chairs poking me and I can only stand such small spaces surrounded by people for so long. So I got out and found my back pack in the lap of someone behind me..Hopefully all was still in it. If not, oh well..everything that mattered was in my purse. Exiting early worked out for the best because then Pete called and said he was close to where I was. So the chapa he was in pulled up next to me on the side of the road and then we headed off to Maxixe, Inhambane. The morning started out great. Pete had some bread and badgias, my fave. We picked up Erica outside of Xai Xai so we could all travel together.
Like every other chapa in the world, we stopped...alot. Every time we stopped people rushed up to the windows trying to sell bananas and oranges and what...shish-kabobs!!! Yeah, so this kid comes up to my window with meat on a stick. I asked him what it was, he said pork. I declined. The chapa went on and as I was jamming to my ipod I started thinking if I should try the stuff on a stick. I don't eat pork or red meat-long story- but during the chapa ride I decided that I'm going to ditch that decision and go ahead and allow myself to eat it next time I get the chance. It was a shish-kabob!
Eventually the chapa stops again. This other kid with meat on a stick just happens to be standing next to my window. It was meant to be and I could use some protein. I didn't ask him what kind of meat it was...I asked him how much. He said 10 MTS per shish-kabob. Pete wanted one, too. I asked him for two. During this transaction I was fumbling around for change- of course I couldn't find any when I needed it and I was expecting the driver to drive off mid-transaction. No worries, somebody shoved the change into my hand. Sweet, so I got 2 shish-kabobs. He had about 4, either light meat or dark meat. He tried to hand me 2 light meat shish-kabobs. I took one light meat and one with dark meat. I figured one was chicken the other was steak. Wishful thinking. I wanted the one I thought was steak, so I gave the light meat one to Pete. Once again, I didnt ask the kid what it was.
I bit into the meat on my stick and...well...I'm still not sure what it was. I hope it was pork. In my opinion, it was absolutely foul. I hated it. But, I ate it anyway because I wasted 10 MTS on it and I didn't have hardly any money left for anything until Inhambane. Pete said it may have been a different part of a cow that we're not used to eating. Whatever, it was gross. I pulled a chunk off the stick to get a better look. Then I thought it was an animal snout. Oh no, wait, that's just the hole from the stick. Whew. I don't know but I've heard about Mozambicans eating cats and rats (I've seen the rats...I'll have to have another post just about food...)It didn't help that the other day I had been talking to Emily and she was wondering if it was possible that she'd ever eaten dog and didn't know it-maybe it's been sold as street food? Anyway, Pete's shish-kabob was good. His "light meat" was basically animal fat filled with grease. It was good, at least it got the mystery meat taste out of my mouth. Note to self: no more meat from the street.
Thursday morning Pete and I met in Xai Xai. Pete and I were supposed to meet at 7:20 am but of course I didn't leave my house until 7:30 because I was late due to writing a letter to my dear friend Brandy. So, at 7:30 I headed to the bus stop near my house. I hardly ever catch chapas that early in the morning. This chapa rolls up and it was FULL of people. I thought people were about to start getting out but no, the cobredor just opened the door. All I saw were butts of people sticking out the sliding door and he was like, go on, get in! At first I said ummm...I dont know, maybe I'll just wait for the next one, where am I going to fit?! Then he said, just get in! So, I got in. I had my over-the-shoulder purse and my back pack. I threw my purse in the lap of some kid sitting and told the cobredor to take my back pack. Then I was hovering over this kid, my chest and head above him as he was sitting down and I was also leaning to the side over this other kid and then the cobredor was directly behind me. Awkward, yes. So I'm standing there trying not to fall as we start moving, holding on to front seat passenger chair. It's a bumpy ride from my neighborhood to the paved road. There's hills and the road is uneven so it makes the car slant as your driving. Really not fun when your standing up/hovering/holding on. I will never complain about anything ever again in America. Not really sure what happened to my back pack, I couldn't see it during the ride. I was supposed to meet Pete at the market but I decided to get off a few blocks early because my legs and arms started to hurt from trying to hold on and corners of chairs poking me and I can only stand such small spaces surrounded by people for so long. So I got out and found my back pack in the lap of someone behind me..Hopefully all was still in it. If not, oh well..everything that mattered was in my purse. Exiting early worked out for the best because then Pete called and said he was close to where I was. So the chapa he was in pulled up next to me on the side of the road and then we headed off to Maxixe, Inhambane. The morning started out great. Pete had some bread and badgias, my fave. We picked up Erica outside of Xai Xai so we could all travel together.
Like every other chapa in the world, we stopped...alot. Every time we stopped people rushed up to the windows trying to sell bananas and oranges and what...shish-kabobs!!! Yeah, so this kid comes up to my window with meat on a stick. I asked him what it was, he said pork. I declined. The chapa went on and as I was jamming to my ipod I started thinking if I should try the stuff on a stick. I don't eat pork or red meat-long story- but during the chapa ride I decided that I'm going to ditch that decision and go ahead and allow myself to eat it next time I get the chance. It was a shish-kabob!
Eventually the chapa stops again. This other kid with meat on a stick just happens to be standing next to my window. It was meant to be and I could use some protein. I didn't ask him what kind of meat it was...I asked him how much. He said 10 MTS per shish-kabob. Pete wanted one, too. I asked him for two. During this transaction I was fumbling around for change- of course I couldn't find any when I needed it and I was expecting the driver to drive off mid-transaction. No worries, somebody shoved the change into my hand. Sweet, so I got 2 shish-kabobs. He had about 4, either light meat or dark meat. He tried to hand me 2 light meat shish-kabobs. I took one light meat and one with dark meat. I figured one was chicken the other was steak. Wishful thinking. I wanted the one I thought was steak, so I gave the light meat one to Pete. Once again, I didnt ask the kid what it was.
I bit into the meat on my stick and...well...I'm still not sure what it was. I hope it was pork. In my opinion, it was absolutely foul. I hated it. But, I ate it anyway because I wasted 10 MTS on it and I didn't have hardly any money left for anything until Inhambane. Pete said it may have been a different part of a cow that we're not used to eating. Whatever, it was gross. I pulled a chunk off the stick to get a better look. Then I thought it was an animal snout. Oh no, wait, that's just the hole from the stick. Whew. I don't know but I've heard about Mozambicans eating cats and rats (I've seen the rats...I'll have to have another post just about food...)It didn't help that the other day I had been talking to Emily and she was wondering if it was possible that she'd ever eaten dog and didn't know it-maybe it's been sold as street food? Anyway, Pete's shish-kabob was good. His "light meat" was basically animal fat filled with grease. It was good, at least it got the mystery meat taste out of my mouth. Note to self: no more meat from the street.
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