Dear Reader,
I so hope that this email finds you doing well. Hopefully you have been able to find some inspiration recently, even if in small places. My challenge for you today is that you have to do something kind for someone else and keep it a secret. [I'm raising my eyebrows up and down while posing this challenge]
I am currently in an 'Internet' as it is called here in the capital city of Maputo. This has been my first chance to contact you via email since leaving the hotel we were staying at in Maputo and moving outside of the cities to live with host families for ten weeks of training. It is difficult to even begin telling you about the enormous amount that has happened over the last almost two weeks, but I will give it a good shot. I have about 45 minutes to say what I can.... Let's do it!
Perhaps I ought to touch on two central (and dominant) themes in my life here. Firstly, the host family that I am living with. The second, that I will discuss forthwith (whatever that means), is training to be a Health Volunteer. [Please note: I am omitting names of places and people specifically, there is a reason to do so, I am told].
I was honestly excited about moving in with a host family. The challenge of only communicating in Portuguese (and the occasional hand gesture) as well as getting the inside perspective on home life in Moçambique was enough to make me jump out of the Peace Corps van and into the arms of my host mother. As it turns out, I have a vibrant family of a mother, father, sister and three brothers. I am the eldest, which is awesome. I can finally understand all the bizarre birth-order issues my older sister always was talking about. Okay that's not totally true, because middle children are still big bundles of mystery to me...
Let me outline my daily experience: I wake up at about 5:30 in the morning in order to get up, take a bucket bath [meaning I walk outside to our casa de banho - "ca-zah dee bahn-yo" - having heated some water on the stove (gas or charcoal at our house)and mixed it with cold water, then using a coffee can with holes punched in the bottom to shower, soap up, scrub, and rinse], come inside to iron some clothing for the day, pack my backpack, eat a breakfast of usually friend egg on bread with Milo (vaguely like hot chocolate) that is way more than suits my basic needs, brush my teeth outside, then walk to a stop where the van picks us up to go spend the day doing sessions of training. By the time I get home from classes there is maybe an hour of daylight left, and I either help with preparing dinner, play soccer with my brothers and the neighbors in the front yard, or continue working on making a straw mat called an estera (esh-tair-ah) that my brother taught me how to make. Then it's dinner time and off to bed! I usually am studying 30-60 minutes daily as well, to keep the portuguese coming.
Now let me comment thusly: As mundane as that day might seem - every moment holds such enormous opportunity for learning that it is almost difficult to believe. Take for example that morning routine... waking up as the sun is starting to peak over the cement and corrugated tin homes in our community - hearing roosters crowing and mothers sweeping debris from their dirt front yards. I get to drink directly from the well of my host family's experience [granted I am drinking from my own cup, which will be a permanent limitation] and simply taking in every detail. The afternoon especially is such a rich time for me.
As I do not have a whole lot of time left to write, allow me to list for you a few very special experiences I've had in the last two weeks:
1. Believe it or not I was able to prepare pancakes and maple syrup for my host family a week ago (with a little cinnamon...) from some supplies I packed in my bags. They loved it! My favorite moment was when my host father asked for some bread after he had finished to sop up the extra syrup from his plate. That for me spelled success. Oh, also, I shared some of the granola that my Aunt Penny and I had made before I left with my host family. The results were mixed. That is, it was an instant hit, but caused a little bit of controversy because my host mother in particular tried to hide it and horde it for herself. Haha, it was so funny trying to explain where cranberries come from...!
2. Special moment two was without a doubt the evening that my host brother taught me a childrens' song in portuguese. I had out my little guitar, and we put it to some music... and the whole family joined in! I sing for them once in a while, and my guitar skills are slowly filling in the gaps. Singing together, and laughing at the silly song was a dear moment for me. Later my host mother taught me a song that they sing as grace before meals, as well.
3. Not many nights ago I was trying to ask my host mother and father a question over dinner. I was asking them about local sayings and proverbs - because I like to know how a culture expresses some commonly held beliefs. My host mother, though, did not take my question as maybe I internally intended. She started to tell me about her childhood and what it was like growing up. (maybe because I asked her about things her father used to tell her when she was a girl). She told me about her life in the central part of the country. Then she went into her life as a teenager during the civil war here in Moçambique. She told me how when they were living in the bush to escape the violence - her father lit a fire because it was so cold. The soldiers saw the fire, came to their family, and took him away. They killed him with knives, she said. My father, also, told me of how he was shot in both legs and the arm in the late 1980's. This, Reader, is the real thing. That is why I am here, to hear the stories and see what is really happening in the world around us.
Well I have to end here. There is much more to tell, and I will do so next chance I get. In the meantime, I hope that you will indeed have a wonderful day today. Please know that I am doing very well, and that my spirits are very high. Take good care -
PEACE (of mind)
Kevin
