June 6, 2011
So the other day, I was sitting at the office with the other women in my org, and we got into a very heated religious debate. The head of admin and I are about the same age. The nurse and our domestic help lady are older. The nurse tried to say that the "fruit" that Adam and Eve weren't allowed to eat was representative of sex, and once they had sex, God became angry with them, and that's what happened. She said she was taught by old Portuguese Catholic nuns, and that it was the truth. Violetta agreed with her. Angela and I contested that man and woman were put on the Earth to procreate, and to procreate, you have to have sex, so that interpretation couldn't have been true at all.
I could tell you how heated it got, but you wouldn't believe me. But it was intense.
Eventually, someone brought up the fact that I don't want to have kids, so how was I arguing that man and woman were made to procreate. And then everyone turned on me...and it was another one of THOSE conversations....
"You don't want to have a little baby that looks like you?". "You don't want to see what your child would look like?". "What kind of legacy do you want to leave on this earth?". "How will people remember you?". "Just have a baby and give it to me, I'll take care of it". "What if you get pregnant? You're not going to abort it, are you?". "You know, its a sin for a woman not to have a baby."
The usual arguments. I was fully prepared to defend my decision, no big deal. But then it took a turn for the worse....
The nurse said "this time next year, you're going to be pregnant. I know these things. You're GOING to get pregnant". She said it with such seriousness and impact...its as if she plans on chasing me down and impregnating me herself. Then she said "its gonna be twins". Then Angela, the younger one, said that she's going to pray every night that I get pregnant with triplets.
Now...I'm certain that God knows just as well as I do that I am the LAST person who needs to have a baby (or 3). So, in the interest of the child (ren), and my mental health, that will probably be one of the prayers that He doesn't answer. But still....I was actually OFFENDED. And hurt. I told them they were all really mean, and I left the conversation.
I mean...how could someone wish something so terrible on me?
Anyway, fast forward to last week. The nurse has a worried look on her face. "All that money I had....I just got paid, and my daughter needed money for school, and my granddaughter needed money, and I had to buy them food....I think you're right.."
"Right about what?". I said.
"Not having children. They're expensive. And now I don't have any money. You're right"
I laughed. I know I'm right. But she wasn't the only one to realize it...
Last Wednesday was "Dia da Criança" or "Children's Day". Its a day where Mozambican parents pretty much spoil their kids. And through spoiling the kids, adults reap ther benefits too (like if you're in a house that can never afford meat, but you saved up so your child could eat meat on dia da criança, this 6yr old isn't gonna eat this entire slab of ribs by herself, right?). Anyway, Angela, the younger one turns to me and says "you're right". I say "what" and she said "this day is expensive. You're right not to want children..."
I think they finally get it. And I think they might leave me alone now...well a little bit. I think they're getting used to it. Someone had a baby at the office, and they all said "oh! It looks like Kyla!". Then they laughed, and said "oh, she doesn't want kids"...and then that was that. No long debates. No evil wishes. Could it be?
Random Ridiculousness...
Here's a collection of really random things from my really random mind...
1. In Americaland, we are right natured. We're taught to walk on the right side, drive on the right side, etc etc. Well here...its the opposite. And I'm having issues with that. Every time I get into a car, I go to the wrong side...the drivers side, then I have to run around to the other side and apologize to the driver. Everyone stares at me when I ride my bike, because I tend to ride on the wrong side...against traffic. When I cross the street, I have to constantly look both ways because I'm not quite sure which way traffic is going. Not to mention when I'm walking down the street and someone is approaching on the same path, I step to the wrong side to let them pass, so we end up in an awkward standoff type situation, where I step to the left and they step the same way, and so I try to go the other direction and they do the same and both of us are confused and don't know how to let the other person pass so we just pause until someone decides to just go around....
Yeah...its awkward.
2. Did you know people create and keep pigeons as pets??? Who knew that stupid annoying bird could be a pet. A pet that is cared for way better than the dogs around here...
3. My new name is "Americana". I was walking to work one day and a chapa drove by. The cobrador was sitting ON TOP of the chapa (I mean...why not, right?) And he saw me and started yelling "Americana!! Hey! Americana! We're going to Lichinga, are you coming! Hey!!! Americana!!". Then, the next day, one of my activistas couldn't remember my name (or didn't even care to use my name) and addressed me as...you guessed it..."Americana". Someone on the street was trying to get my attention..."Americana". Yeah...that's my name around these parts.
4. I was walking home for lunch one day past the primary school. The kids were singing the Mozambican National Anthem. I realized that while they were outside singing, people across the street had stopped and started singing, and I was the only person walking. So I stopped and thought "is it disrespectful for me to walk by while they're singing the National Anthem?" I stood there and waited for them to finish. Thing is, I had stopped right out in the open, so everyone could see me. I felt awkward, because if I could have kept walking, everyone saw me standing there watching kids sing...I dunno. It was kind of weird. I felt like people were looking at me like "why are you watching these children singing, weirdo?". But I couldn't move because I didn't want to run the risk of being disrespectful.
5. Women in groups can get really rowdy. That's all I have to say about that.
6. I love street vendors, I really really do.
1. In Americaland, we are right natured. We're taught to walk on the right side, drive on the right side, etc etc. Well here...its the opposite. And I'm having issues with that. Every time I get into a car, I go to the wrong side...the drivers side, then I have to run around to the other side and apologize to the driver. Everyone stares at me when I ride my bike, because I tend to ride on the wrong side...against traffic. When I cross the street, I have to constantly look both ways because I'm not quite sure which way traffic is going. Not to mention when I'm walking down the street and someone is approaching on the same path, I step to the wrong side to let them pass, so we end up in an awkward standoff type situation, where I step to the left and they step the same way, and so I try to go the other direction and they do the same and both of us are confused and don't know how to let the other person pass so we just pause until someone decides to just go around....
Yeah...its awkward.
2. Did you know people create and keep pigeons as pets??? Who knew that stupid annoying bird could be a pet. A pet that is cared for way better than the dogs around here...
3. My new name is "Americana". I was walking to work one day and a chapa drove by. The cobrador was sitting ON TOP of the chapa (I mean...why not, right?) And he saw me and started yelling "Americana!! Hey! Americana! We're going to Lichinga, are you coming! Hey!!! Americana!!". Then, the next day, one of my activistas couldn't remember my name (or didn't even care to use my name) and addressed me as...you guessed it..."Americana". Someone on the street was trying to get my attention..."Americana". Yeah...that's my name around these parts.
4. I was walking home for lunch one day past the primary school. The kids were singing the Mozambican National Anthem. I realized that while they were outside singing, people across the street had stopped and started singing, and I was the only person walking. So I stopped and thought "is it disrespectful for me to walk by while they're singing the National Anthem?" I stood there and waited for them to finish. Thing is, I had stopped right out in the open, so everyone could see me. I felt awkward, because if I could have kept walking, everyone saw me standing there watching kids sing...I dunno. It was kind of weird. I felt like people were looking at me like "why are you watching these children singing, weirdo?". But I couldn't move because I didn't want to run the risk of being disrespectful.
5. Women in groups can get really rowdy. That's all I have to say about that.
6. I love street vendors, I really really do.
The Great Mato Adventure
A few weeks ago, my org decided to round up the nurse, some activistas, me, and some other colleagues in our pick up truck, and head out to the mato.
What and where is the mato, you ask?
The mato is way out there. Like the boonies, but in Africa. The bush. Not in the town, but the outskirts. Like...you know...far. But we have people there too who need our help. And our activistas work way out there (sometimes 30-40km away) so we had to visit.
On our first stop, we got out of the car with pretty much the entire community watching us. That's the thing about the mato, they don't get many visitors and when people come...its pretty much the only thing happening at the time, so people come out to watch. The nurse, the activista for that area, and I were led to the home of the community leader. We sat at his house, and I was introduced. Afterward, we discussed the situation with people in the community, the people that we knew or suspected of being HIV+, or having terminal illnesses, and the work of the activistas in the community. After our conversation, we came outside to about 50 kids playing on the back of the truck and maybe 50 more surrounding it. Laughing and playing. I took a picture, and they all squealed with delight. This went on in each of the bairros we visited. Throngs of children on the truck, completely fascinated. Riding through communities with kids chasing behind. Driving through tall grass, through narrow paths, on a sunny day with big puffy clouds in the sky. Meeting people, who had no clue which language to greet me in...so they just guessed. People who speak Makua (Emakua) usually see me and greet me in Ciyao. People who speak Ciyao usually see me and greet me in Makua. People that know Portuguese just assume (correctly) that I'm not from around here and its best to just stick to Portuguese. We encountered a group of people, and since its customary to greet everyone individually, I got bombarded with 3 different greetings at a time...and left completely confused.
It was all so beautiful.
That is...until we were driving through tall grass and trees and got a flat tire. No one had cell phone service. And we couldn't find the spare. We all got out and a group of kids, like 40, crowded around us (children just appear out of nowhere around here...). I started to think "what if we're stuck here in the mato?? I have no clue where I am, no clue how to get back home, it'll be dark soon, and I'm thirsty!"
I thought about what would happen if I died out there in the mato. In the wilderness. With the grass and trees and mato kids and bugs and goats. Stupid me for not bringing water. I had some mandioca and sugar cane. That was it. And I don't even like sugar cane, but if I have to chew it to stay alive, I will...
While I was going off into a paranoid rant in my mind, they found the spare. And we all sat around: me, the nurse, the activistas, and the crowd of children, while the driver changed the tire. Things were well, we all piled back in the car, and I didn't die in the mato.
A happy ending.
What and where is the mato, you ask?
The mato is way out there. Like the boonies, but in Africa. The bush. Not in the town, but the outskirts. Like...you know...far. But we have people there too who need our help. And our activistas work way out there (sometimes 30-40km away) so we had to visit.
On our first stop, we got out of the car with pretty much the entire community watching us. That's the thing about the mato, they don't get many visitors and when people come...its pretty much the only thing happening at the time, so people come out to watch. The nurse, the activista for that area, and I were led to the home of the community leader. We sat at his house, and I was introduced. Afterward, we discussed the situation with people in the community, the people that we knew or suspected of being HIV+, or having terminal illnesses, and the work of the activistas in the community. After our conversation, we came outside to about 50 kids playing on the back of the truck and maybe 50 more surrounding it. Laughing and playing. I took a picture, and they all squealed with delight. This went on in each of the bairros we visited. Throngs of children on the truck, completely fascinated. Riding through communities with kids chasing behind. Driving through tall grass, through narrow paths, on a sunny day with big puffy clouds in the sky. Meeting people, who had no clue which language to greet me in...so they just guessed. People who speak Makua (Emakua) usually see me and greet me in Ciyao. People who speak Ciyao usually see me and greet me in Makua. People that know Portuguese just assume (correctly) that I'm not from around here and its best to just stick to Portuguese. We encountered a group of people, and since its customary to greet everyone individually, I got bombarded with 3 different greetings at a time...and left completely confused.
It was all so beautiful.
That is...until we were driving through tall grass and trees and got a flat tire. No one had cell phone service. And we couldn't find the spare. We all got out and a group of kids, like 40, crowded around us (children just appear out of nowhere around here...). I started to think "what if we're stuck here in the mato?? I have no clue where I am, no clue how to get back home, it'll be dark soon, and I'm thirsty!"
I thought about what would happen if I died out there in the mato. In the wilderness. With the grass and trees and mato kids and bugs and goats. Stupid me for not bringing water. I had some mandioca and sugar cane. That was it. And I don't even like sugar cane, but if I have to chew it to stay alive, I will...
While I was going off into a paranoid rant in my mind, they found the spare. And we all sat around: me, the nurse, the activistas, and the crowd of children, while the driver changed the tire. Things were well, we all piled back in the car, and I didn't die in the mato.
A happy ending.
I Know How Beyonce Feels...if Beyonce did her own laundry...
May, 2011
I feel like Beyonce. Or Michelle Obama. Or Madonna. Or any other really really ridiculously famous woman. Because when they say that being in Peace Corps is like living in a fishbowl, they weren't lying. Everyone is watching me. And everything I do, every move I make, every breath I take, every step I take, they're watching me. And they're absolutely fascinated...
I was ashy the other day. Happens. I pulled out some lotion. Then everyone watched as I rubbed it on, asked me what it was, which resulted me passing around my lotion (that wasn't even special, I stole it from a hotel in Nampula...) so everyone could examine the special "American lotion" that wasn't even American.
I took out my braids one day and wore my hair natural. Big mistake. I got to work and everybody had to touch my hair, comment on my hair and ask me questions about my hair...it was like being in college again (only certain ppl will understand that reference).
If I wear a different pair of shoes....if I paint my nails a new color....if I wear earrings one day....its a huge production. People are just fascinated by my every move. People know me and I have no clue who they are. People yell out to me on the street and are excited to talk to me. Being famous was fun at first...but now I just want to be normal. I'm tired of everyone watching and critiquing my every action, and then commenting in local language to each other..
Believe me, NOTHING is more awkward and annoying than knowing that people are right in front of you talking about you in a language you don't understand...
OH- and don't get me started on me, being a celebrity, and doing something completely off the wall and strange...
My organization has a washing machine. And a dryer.
(I thanked the good Lord in heaven when I heard the news. No more handwashing clothes?? I'm sure I'm the ONLY PCV-esp in Africa- with a washing machine. And a dryer. Envy me)
Anyway, my org got a washing machine and dryer as a way to generate some income on the side. Thing is, everyone here is used to handwashing clothes, and has never even seen a washing machine. So my supervisor said I was welcome to use it at any time...because its just sitting there.
Silly me, I decided to wash my first load of clothes on a Monday. When people were at the office. Needless to say, I've never had an audience while washing my clothes, and I'd prefer it if I never had one again. There were 20 women, crowded around me, as I sorted through my dirty clothes, all asking me how it worked, what to do, and marveling at each step in the process. I turned on the water to a collective "ohh!!". I put in detergent to sounds of utter shock and awe, and comments in local language. I put in my clothes with a group of people breathing down my neck. Everytime I touched a button "what does that do?". "So you don't scrub the clothes first?""How does it get clean?".
I'm just doing laundry. Is it really that big of a deal?
After my first load was done washing, I wanted to use the dryer, but this gang of women protested and said I had to hang my laundry on the line. I'm not quite sure why...they just felt it was better that way. And they all grabbed my clothes and hung them on the line for me...after expressing their concern for my grabbing my wet clothes ("you're gonna get your outfit wet. Here, give me these clothes...")
That's another thing...people treat me like I'm fragile and can't do anything for myself. Or rather....can't do anything at all. I can't even sit with everyone else on the ground, I have to sit in a chair. I don't get my own water from the well that is 15ft away from my door, because the boys in my quintal won't let me. I was carrying a bag a bread the other day (bread! And nothing else) and someone rushed to help me, and grabbed the bag and walked me to my front door. People like to accompany me to the market, or to the store. And if I make a sound, or sigh, or clear my throat...automatically something is wrong with me and everyone is overly concerned.
Does Beyonce have these issues? I think around these parts, I'm more famous than she is. And that's no fun. If everyone here had cameras, I'd be on Mozambican TMZ...
Anyway, although it definitely seems like I'm complaining, I'm not. Ok I am, but its not that bad. I've gotten used to having an audience while I do laundry. And I have to remember that lots of people here have never seen washing machines. The last time I did laundry, I actually had fun showing the women what to do. There were only 2 as opposed to 20. They were some of my younger activistas. AND they asked if they could watch...they were so nice, I couldn't say no. After the clothes were washing, they said "that's it??? And so you can just go on about your day while your clothes are washing? Oh that's AMAZING! You can go for a walk, or cook....its that easy?? No scrubbing for hours in the sun?"
"No, and this machine here dries it for you. 1-2hrs, and you're done with your laundry"
That's right..I'm teaching people how to become lazy Americans. One step at a time.
I feel like Beyonce. Or Michelle Obama. Or Madonna. Or any other really really ridiculously famous woman. Because when they say that being in Peace Corps is like living in a fishbowl, they weren't lying. Everyone is watching me. And everything I do, every move I make, every breath I take, every step I take, they're watching me. And they're absolutely fascinated...
I was ashy the other day. Happens. I pulled out some lotion. Then everyone watched as I rubbed it on, asked me what it was, which resulted me passing around my lotion (that wasn't even special, I stole it from a hotel in Nampula...) so everyone could examine the special "American lotion" that wasn't even American.
I took out my braids one day and wore my hair natural. Big mistake. I got to work and everybody had to touch my hair, comment on my hair and ask me questions about my hair...it was like being in college again (only certain ppl will understand that reference).
If I wear a different pair of shoes....if I paint my nails a new color....if I wear earrings one day....its a huge production. People are just fascinated by my every move. People know me and I have no clue who they are. People yell out to me on the street and are excited to talk to me. Being famous was fun at first...but now I just want to be normal. I'm tired of everyone watching and critiquing my every action, and then commenting in local language to each other..
Believe me, NOTHING is more awkward and annoying than knowing that people are right in front of you talking about you in a language you don't understand...
OH- and don't get me started on me, being a celebrity, and doing something completely off the wall and strange...
My organization has a washing machine. And a dryer.
(I thanked the good Lord in heaven when I heard the news. No more handwashing clothes?? I'm sure I'm the ONLY PCV-esp in Africa- with a washing machine. And a dryer. Envy me)
Anyway, my org got a washing machine and dryer as a way to generate some income on the side. Thing is, everyone here is used to handwashing clothes, and has never even seen a washing machine. So my supervisor said I was welcome to use it at any time...because its just sitting there.
Silly me, I decided to wash my first load of clothes on a Monday. When people were at the office. Needless to say, I've never had an audience while washing my clothes, and I'd prefer it if I never had one again. There were 20 women, crowded around me, as I sorted through my dirty clothes, all asking me how it worked, what to do, and marveling at each step in the process. I turned on the water to a collective "ohh!!". I put in detergent to sounds of utter shock and awe, and comments in local language. I put in my clothes with a group of people breathing down my neck. Everytime I touched a button "what does that do?". "So you don't scrub the clothes first?""How does it get clean?".
I'm just doing laundry. Is it really that big of a deal?
After my first load was done washing, I wanted to use the dryer, but this gang of women protested and said I had to hang my laundry on the line. I'm not quite sure why...they just felt it was better that way. And they all grabbed my clothes and hung them on the line for me...after expressing their concern for my grabbing my wet clothes ("you're gonna get your outfit wet. Here, give me these clothes...")
That's another thing...people treat me like I'm fragile and can't do anything for myself. Or rather....can't do anything at all. I can't even sit with everyone else on the ground, I have to sit in a chair. I don't get my own water from the well that is 15ft away from my door, because the boys in my quintal won't let me. I was carrying a bag a bread the other day (bread! And nothing else) and someone rushed to help me, and grabbed the bag and walked me to my front door. People like to accompany me to the market, or to the store. And if I make a sound, or sigh, or clear my throat...automatically something is wrong with me and everyone is overly concerned.
Does Beyonce have these issues? I think around these parts, I'm more famous than she is. And that's no fun. If everyone here had cameras, I'd be on Mozambican TMZ...
Anyway, although it definitely seems like I'm complaining, I'm not. Ok I am, but its not that bad. I've gotten used to having an audience while I do laundry. And I have to remember that lots of people here have never seen washing machines. The last time I did laundry, I actually had fun showing the women what to do. There were only 2 as opposed to 20. They were some of my younger activistas. AND they asked if they could watch...they were so nice, I couldn't say no. After the clothes were washing, they said "that's it??? And so you can just go on about your day while your clothes are washing? Oh that's AMAZING! You can go for a walk, or cook....its that easy?? No scrubbing for hours in the sun?"
"No, and this machine here dries it for you. 1-2hrs, and you're done with your laundry"
That's right..I'm teaching people how to become lazy Americans. One step at a time.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)