Culture and Education

Normally my blog posts are just to update my friends and family at home about my life here in Mozambique. I’m not a “writer” per se and anyone who knows me well, knows that words don’t just flow out of my mouth in a particularly eloquent way.  But yesterday I found myself in the middle of a conversation so interesting, I almost wished I was at Rhodes so I could use it to write a paper (not a bio lab report paper, but a paper that would normally scare the pants off of me and magically consume an entire week of my time).  Anyways, this fictional paper would focus on the clash of culture and education levels in Mozambique. Basically, what happened is this…

This week, all of the teachers at our school have been attending a mandatory “formação” or training geared to Salitian schools.  Yesterday’s enthralling topic: conflict resolution.  Conflicts with other professors, conflicts with the director, conflicts with students and mediating student-student conflicts.  I have sat through my fair share of peace corps training session about such things and I have also sat through many a Mozambican meeting where people talk just to hear their own voice. Needless to say, I was not thrilled to be stuck in the collision of these two. 

After we broke into groups to discuss a few questions (“do we learn from our conflicts? Why?” and “what tools do we have to resolve our conflicts?”), we discussed them as a group. This is when I stopped doodling and started actually writing down what people were saying.

 The first professor who spoke made the comment that education is our tool – it is the greatest tool we have and therefore lets us better solve our problems. To which another professor negated by saying that his parents had very little education and his grandparents never saw a book, let alone a school in their lifetime – and they still managed to resolve their conflicts.  It was and still is our culture and it is our history, he said (sidenote: Mozambicans are very proud people and when they get going on “a nossa maneira” or “our way” it tends to be a long and prideful conversation).  Keep in mind: Mozambique is so underdeveloped because of its recent history of war. First for independence from the Portuguese and then a very long civil war (which didn’t end until the early 90’s).  Social infrastructures – like schools- are just now getting on their feet, so to speak. Regardless, the man was making the point that you don’t need an education to solve your problems.  This was then answered by another teacher who gave the example of Mozambican families who live out in the bush.  If the parents of that family had attended school –and recognized how valuable it really was – they probably wouldn’t marry off their 12 year old daughter before she got to the 8^th grade (which is very common in many parts of the country – its just the culture, whether you agree with it or not). And she probably wouldn’t allow the same thing to happen to HER daughter.

So now we have this conflict between the very respected culture and the history and the “way” of the Mozambican people,  and tools that education can provide to move forward. And to top it off, we’ve tossed the ever-present gender issue into the equation.  Another professor then posed the question: well does the girl from the bush not want to go to school and study because she’s not from a “culture” of education? Or is she an equal of the 12 year old girl in the city who will make it to at least 10^th grade? The next man who spoke said the, yes, the girls are surely equal and deserve the same opportunities. 

I guess these are just some of the challenges of developing a country.  I see the same thing all over Moatize – which is a becoming a boomtown because of the mines.  There are tons of little mud houses surrounded by goats and old women cooking on little carvão grills with babies on their backs and half dressed kids running around. And right next to the mud house is a huge industrial building with foreigners in air-conditioned, GPS equipped Ford trucks – who are employing the sons of the old women in the mud houses.

OK, I’m not sure where I’m going with this now – but I thought it was worth sharing.   

25 de Junho

Mozambicans celebrate their Independence Day on June 25 (this year marked 36 years of freedom) which happened to be a Saturday.  Helen and I went to the town square are where people were gathered with drums and banners.  We also happened to be their when the governor of Tete rolled in (in his 6 car entourage, with a BMW….) and stuck around for the national anthem before heading home. 

That Friday, Eduardo (our other roommate) had explained to us the importance heads at parties. Yes. Heads. As in cow head, pig head, goat head.  Apparently, every good party or wedding (or anything worth celebrating) needs a head. So, Saturday morning when we came home we were greeted by a giant cows head.  I’m talking, a full on head. Just chopped off.

Then the testosterone fest started.  Cooking is very much a “woman’s” job in Mozambique, but the head…. That’s a different story. Cooking a head is a man’s job.  So Eduardo, one of his friends from work, the father and teenage son of the family with live near, and some other random boys got to work on the head.  First they built a fire with some bricks set up in it to singe all of the hair off the head. Then spent a good deal of time with an axe chopping the head into small enough pieces to fit in a large pot.  Basically, the entire head was boiled with just water and salt (as not to spoil its natural delicious flavors…. So I was told).  Then, they waited.  Senour Janeiro – the dad of the family, and oldest member of the “head crew”- was presented with a small plate of brain and tongue to taste test.  Once he had given the OK, everyone was served a small bowl.  At this point, Helen  and I were forced to join the bro-fest.  Apparently, head at a party is like cake at a party (everyone has to receive at least a bite…… “you don’t turn down birthday cake, do you?!”) and no one can leave before the head is served. Once again, “do you leave a wedding reception before the bride and groom cut the cake?” (…..got it, Eduardo. I understand that you’re going to make me eat the head).  So, Helen and I sat outside with all of the men and tried the head … which I covered in piri-piri (hot chili sauce).

Not exactly fireworks, popsicles and burgers on the grill… but another interesting moment here in Mozambique.

run the world girls

I think I mentioned the “REDES weekend” in a previous post – but basically, REDES is a group for high school aged girls in Mozambique that promotes healthy and successful futures.  It was a Peace Corps initiated group that has existed nationwide for some years now.  Even though my school is mostly boys, I thought that the girls at Dom Bosco could really benefit from a program like this.  So when I offered to host a weekend “troca” for the four groups in Tete (like a mini conference) at our school, I figured it would be a good way to get the ball rolling. But ohhhhh the joys of hosting 50 people for a weekend!

Helen and I did a pretty good job of getting all of our shopping done the weekend before everyone arrived.  All of our market friends were moreee that happy to help with our food needs (“we need 200 pieces of bread” “Two, you usually buy two” “Yes, I know, but I need two HUNDRED”).  So the supplies took over our dining room as tens of kilos of rice and beans and whatnot piled up.

Naturally, the Friday that every one was to arrive, I overslept for my class (way to start the day Audrey) and ran out the door without washing my face and with 3 kilos of dried fish in my backpack. (You know how in cartoons there’s a dog with a steak on a fishing pole and the pole is tied to his back? So he’s constantly chasing a steak that’s dangling in front of his nose? That was me, but in reverse. I kept walking faster and faster trying to escape the smell of dried fish, but it was chasing me on my back!) Anyways, I made it to class, dropped off the fish and headed home to take a bath before I had to clean the conference room where we were staying and having our activities.

Figuring things could only go up from there – Helen and I went back to school to help the girls clean.  They immediately sassed me about the condition of the dried fish – apparently it can not be left in a plastic bag (let alone 5 plastic bags) because it will become moist and spoil. Right, of course – I clearly have no idea what I’m doing with this fish. Which was very unfortunate, seeing as the guy I was paying to cook for us for the weekend was no where to be found. AND, the gem that he is, not only did he leave, he left with the keys to all of the kitchen supplies. 

So I’m running around our school (which I’m realizing is giant) trying to find someone to help with the food situation. The other 40 people should be arriving now and we need to get  start the dinner process. I happen to run into our director on his way out, and he informs me that the water has been shut off to our entire school. Are you kidding me?! I have 50 people living at this school for the weekend, and we don’t have water? How are we going to cook this food? How are they going to take baths (God knows they love taking baths)? These girls have been on a chapa for 4 hours and I don’t have water for them to drink?! (my frustration level is now seriously on the rise).

So after furiously begging the Padres to help me (sidenote : the Bishop has showed up for a weekend visit – unexpectedly.  So they, too, were in way over their heads), and being denied I had an unfortunate display of emotion.  I don’t think anyone reallyyy knows what to do with a crying girl – let alone a crying American girl in front of her older, male, Mozambican colleagues. Anyways, my only solution to the water problem was to send my own girls out with 20L jugs to find and carry water back to the school.  They were not thrilled, to say the least, but they pulled through! AND, the other Mozambican women that were there whipped some dinner for everyone – sans hired-cook.  Way to go girls of Mozambique! Ha!

Since we just had one giant conference room to use for the weekend, everyone brought their own straw mat and camped out on the floor.  It was vaguely reminiscent of a grade school slumber party, and I literally thought they (and as a result, everyone) would NEVER sleep. But they did, and in typical Mozambican form were up at 5 am.  Little did they know that since they were the first to wake up, they were the lucky ones who got to carry water! ……. Not. They were really tired of me dragging them out to get water. I was tired of it too.

The weekend ended up being a huge success for all of the girls. They made amazing purses out of capulanas, had lessons on sexual health, HIV/AIDS and pregnancy (which is extremely beneficial for them), played soccer and basketball, and planned their “beautiful and healthy futures.”  We ate delicious food. Each group performed some bad ass dances - in the dark, because the electricity went out - and had an all out dance party. 

Even though it was a logistical NIGHTMARE (I couldn’t bend the fingers on my hands until Wednesday) and I don’t think I’ve ever been so exhausted, it was worth it knowing that the girls who participated loved it!

PS. Did you know that the dancing in Beyonce’s new video for “run the world girls” is inspired by a Mozambican dance group?! They can danceee!!

Dia da Festa!

The day of the big party was last Friday.  Some of the professors told Helen and I that we needed to show up early to help cook before Mass – but when we arrived, we were quickly dismissed and left to ...sit. Shocking.  I’m pretty sure there was serious Mozambican women (profs and student) cooking going on and we were going to slow their roll.  So we were sent to “brincar” (play) with the boys.  Oh the joys of being a foreign woman here – no one is sure where we’re supposed to “fit in.”

Anyways. To start the day, we had a nice Mass with lots of visiting Padres, awesome songs (that I couldn’t even follow along with because they were in the local dialect) and – of course – dancing.  Then, we had a little snack break before the student vs. prof soccer game.  The students won 4-1…. Because, well, they’re awesome! And what would a Mozambican party be without excessive amounts of music and dancing?! We had a huge sound system and DJ brought it for the students (I will cease to be amazed at how much these kids love to dance! They can’t control themselves!). 

Despite having an overly detailed schedule of the days activities – we (obviously) became seriously delayed.  Lunch, which was supposed to be served at 1:30, was at 3:30 – thus cutting out ALL of the student performances and field day games.  However, the food was delicious. Standard party procedures are that guests must bring their own plate, cup, ect to any even where food is served. And even though I bring my plate with out fail (duh)– there are always some kids that forget.  Then I feel guilty that I’m going to eat and one my kids isn’t – so MY standard party procedure is now to bring plate, give said plate to teenage boy who can eat 3 times more than me, and then pick off someone else’s plate with my spoon (because I probably gave away my fork too). 

Monday morning, with the party behind us, we geared up for the last two weeks of the semester.  Even though its not Rhodes-finals-intense, its still a huge burst of work.  Mostly because I have an entire week of tests to give (which inevitably ends with me being  SO frustrated) and then grade.  Plus, I have to hunt down 8 million kids to get them to do their work. We’re working on responsibility – its apparently a slow lesson to learn…. BUT I was informed that at the end of August, we celebrate the feast of Dom Bosco --- with another partyyy!!

Random Updates:

·        This Friday is our much-anticipated Festa de Maria Auxilidora – Which essentially is a day long party at our school.  Not only have we all “donated” money to the party committee --- air quotes because, well, you donate or you don’t eat…  I’ve sat through a number of meetings discussing what kind of sports competition will take place, 4 afternoons of “song practice,” a “who will kill the goat” debate, and an especially grueling meeting in which we only discussed whether to buy Fanta or Fizz (off brand Fanta).  Every turma has to present something for the “show”… a dance, a skit, a song, etc. My second year Welding class (who has claimed me as their own) took me out to a field the other day to watch them practice their dance (in secret, of course). The next time I have some good internet access, I’ll upload the video – they’re going to be awesome!!

·        Hannah, Helen, Janet and I are busy planning our REDES (which stands for Girls in development, education, and health) weekend. Basically, each group will bring 10 girls from their school for a fun weekend of team building, health classes, soccer games, etc.  I think it’s going to be super fun – that is, if I manage to buy food for 50 people for an entire weekend and prep our school (we’re all camping out in the auditorium for 2 nights – basically a giant slumber party). 

·        Our school has recently started a “community” youth group ? (I’m not entirely sure what it’s called….).  Anyways, every Sunday the Padres open our school up to the kids of Matema for a few hours where they can play soccer, basketball, chess, watch a movie, etc.  Our older students come to help out and ref the games. Helen and I are the newest addition to the line-up where we’ve been giving impromptu, fun English lessons.  I was like, “whose going to want to have an extra class on Sunday afternoon?!” …… well, apparently a lot of kids, that’s who.  We had about 45 kids packed into a classroom last Sunday practicing dialogues and whatnot.  Plus, some of our students were there to help out.  They LOVED being able to show off in front of the other kids – which made us SO proud!  Oh, and I tend to seriously attract a 12 and under crowd (this is not a new development, and I’m not sure why ha!)…. So there were a significant number of kids just following me around for a while and calling me Tia Carolina (tia means aunt)

·        I’m getting realllyyyyyyy excited about my family coming to visit me in July! My younger brother just graduated from high school and has a packed schedule until he heads off to Rhodes (heyyyy Zoeller legacy).  Luckily, between him and my parent’s crazy summer of llama trekking, building houses in Belize, and business in Hawaii they’re making the long trip to Africa.  We’re going on Safari in Kruger, shopping at the markets in Maputo, hanging out in Tete with my students and visiting some of the cool places up here.  Every time I call home from school, I get rushed by students who want to say “good morning, how are you?” to my mom. Needless to say, they are veryyyy excited that the fam is coming as well. Although, if they tell me that my 18 year old brother looks like he’s 25 and I look like I’m 18 one more time… I’m going to lose it.

·        One of our dogs has been missing for about 2 weeks now, and we suspected she was pregnant. And after I creeped around our yard for a while the other day – the puppy rumor was confirmed.  Also confirmed: 2 week old puppies are not yet the cute cuddly puppies I like.  So in a few weeks, we’ll have a new distraction here in Moatize.

A Mozambican Derby

That should be read like, “A Charlie Brown Christmas.”  SO. Everyone knows that I absolutely love Kentucky (particularly Louisville) and that I rank the Kentucky Derby right behind Christmas and my Birthday for favorite holidays.  This was the second Derby that I’ve not been in Louisiville for (the first one I missed because of a Saturday morning Organic Chemisty exam – I was not pleased) and honestly I think it was the second most homesick I’ve been here! It sounds silly, but that’s such a cool time in Louisville – and I swear all of Kentucky is just prettier during those first few weeks!

So, my lovelyyy parents, knowing how much I love everything Derby, sent me an entire Derby 137 care package.  Complete with Derby glasses, plates, napkins, balloons, a tablecloth, a bottle of Woodford Reserve bourbon (a personal favorite) and mint julep syrup – it was prettyyy much a party in a box! So I had all of the Tete crew to Moatize for a Derby party (which, I’m pretty sure was Mozambique’s first ever Kentucky Derby party).  In addition to an abundance of improvised Southern food  (fried green tomatoes, Cajun sweet potato fries, baked cheese grits --- so. Good., sweet tea, mint juleps,  and derby pie) I made everyone pick a horse and explained alllll of the Derby traditions. I showed the pretty pictures of me and my friends and family at Oaks last year in all our pink and big hats…. Then I showed the pictures from when we went mud-diving in the infield on Derby day (which, btw, made me miss the whole Derby136 crew)

From a previously scheduled bet, I had Nehro and Mucho Macho Man (essentially forced upon me) and chose Animal Kingdom for my own horse.  So when, ohhh around 1 am, when I started yelling about how I had all three horses….well I’m sure Hannah and Amanda loved it! I did worry that no one would want to “play” derby with me anymore since it appeared that I rigged the betting somehow BUT I think the food and overall excitement won them over….. PCMoz goes to Derby, 2013!!!

The Thunta (Toon-ta) Walk

I feel like I rave about my school on a regular basis – we Dom Bosco is amazing and super progressive compared to the majority of Mozambican schools. Our school, which is Salesiano mission school, is very focused on “forming” our students into responsible community members and well rounded people.  That might sound like a normal high school in America, but here, where the majority of schools have teachers that just don’t show up and are where is often found in the highest authority figures….well, it’s kind of a big deal.  We have program for deaf students (and students who don’t speak) where my classes are signed as I speak.  Our students are constantly pressured to be professional looking and punctual (I can now pick out students who haven’t brushed their hair, kick out students who have their shirts untucked, and have had students sent home for the day because they showed up 2 minutes late to our morning assembly.  On the other “non-discipline” hand, our school is hella fun. We have random soccer tournements and basketball games between students and professors. We play chess and eat cookies during our morning interval (these kids just discovered chess, slash are obsessed with it). Anyways. I’m rambling. What I was getting at is that when our director asked if I would come on a “field trip” one Friday in May, I responded “um. Absolutely” (Oh and ps May is the “month of Mary” ---- rememeber, Catholic mission school --- so we have all kinds of crazy activities planned).

They told me that we were just going to “passear” (which means “walk” …. But its kind of leisurely, social type of walk). Easy! I did start to wonder if I should worry when my boys started asking “Teacher, vai passear con nosco?” (Teacher, will you walk with us?). “Sim, claro!” (Yes, of course!).  “Mais…..Teacher, vai consiger?” (But….. teacher, will you make it?) ……….. thanks for the encouragement guys.  I was like, shoot! Its just walking, how hard can it be!? If you’re not running or walking up a mountain, it cant be thatttt bad.  Well then I fould out that only like 9 teachers were actually going on this little walk.  Still, I wasn’t really concerned.

So Friday morning rolls around, and we all have to meet at school at 6 am – with a packed lunch and lots of water. Done. Then we take off towards the Zambezi river.  This is when I started to worry. These boys were doing what can only be described as power walking. And we were moving! We stopped about 3 k into the walk to stop and take roll and whatnot. Which is also when my students noticed that my face was BRIGHT red (my face turns red when I work out, shocking).  Apparently to a bunch of teenagers whose faces literally can’t turn red, this was, in fact, shocking.  Actually, one time my face turned bright red when I got really angry at one of my turmas (they were being punks) and they freaked out and started fanning me and told me to stop crying. So after I clarified that I was not angry, and that my face also turns red when I exercise (particularly in the heat of Tete), we continued on towards Thunta. 

I need to clarify that Thunta (as lovely as it is) is in the mato (bush). And therefore, the walk to Thunta is a little…..rough. So there we were, just cruising down a dirt “path” …. 300 students, 10 teachers, extreme heat. Oh, and a significant part of the path was sand –which, is super pleasant and easy to walk through in tennis shoes. Not.

After we had been walking for about 2 hours, I started dragging my feet a little. Luckily, I had one of my second year auto mechanics with me – Omar – and we were walking buddies. Omar is legit a full foot taller than any other student in our school and has one of the biggest smiles I’ve ever seen. Helen and I call him the gentle giant. And (this is the best part), his best friend is the shortest kid in the entire school. We regularly have to tell Omar to put Aurenlio down because he just throws him over his shoulder. 

Around 2 hours and 45 minutes, we finally made it to Thunta.  The bustling metropolis of Thunta consists of about 25 mud huts, a few farms, and a small Church on the bank of the river.  We sat down and rested for a while… I was legit tired and had some serious blisters forming on my feet. (I tried to mentally will my face back to its normal white self – which gets enough attention when its NOT red). Two of the Padres came with us and gave Mass in the little church – which included some sweet drum music, students giving the readings, and more aisle dancing (2 for 2 makes me think that’s normal).  Then we ate lunch, had a little assembly, and everyone was like “welp, lets head back” (are you kidding me?! We just walked 15 kilometers to eat lunch, go to church and walk back?!) For a while Helen and I though maybe there was a car somewhere we could get in – but then one of the Padres laughed at that…..so no-go on the ride home.  This is clearly why these boys were asking if we would make it!

So totally dreading the return trip, Omar and I started waking near the back of the pack. About 30 minutes in, some of the guys started asking if I was tired. Yes of course I’m tired. We’ve been walking forever!! So they said they could fix this problem. A pack of about 8 of them surrounded me, took both of my hands, and said that we were going to run like snakes were chasing us (they know I hate snakes). So. We took off running (and screaming and waving our arms and laughing hysterically) and passed the majority of the other kids.  And once you’re in the front of the pack, well, you can’t really slow down! Another one of my favorite kids showed up, and they started singing the “teacher Carolina” song (which consists of two parts : “Teacher Car-Car-Carolinaa” and “Eewhaaee”).  All in all, we finished strong around 5 pm. 

I may or may not have had to scoot around my bedroom floor that night because I couldn’t stand up and may or may not have limped for about 24 hours post-walk…. A