tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76098180944090647372024-03-13T01:15:17.992-07:00My Life As FaceJust a small-town southern girl who's name has an apparently hilarious alternate meaning in Portuguese working as a teacher in Africa for two years.Cara Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14627480604709365712noreply@blogger.comBlogger24125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7609818094409064737.post-78121981501691253882015-10-07T00:23:00.000-07:002019-08-20T06:29:50.369-07:00Girl Power<div class="MsoNormal">
I have been wanting to write something about my friends who
in the market here, because they are all so nice and they have my back if
people try to rip me off or sell me less-than-fresh veggies (“No, no, no…don’t
buy this stuff, go over there and get the good ones!”). As I sat down to write,
though, it transformed into a testament to the <i>força da mulher, </i>or strength of women, that exists here in Africa.
So instead of just the market ladies, here’s a few stories about my female
friends in Mozambique and how they are
way stronger than you are (or I am).</div>
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First are the aforementioned market ladies. There are too
many of them for individual pictures, but they are all awesome. These gals
start their days at 2:00 or 3:00 AM by walking miles and miles to their <i>machambas</i>, or small personal farms, where
they work tilling, planting and harvesting for about five hours. After that,
they walk miles and miles back to the village where they set up their stands in
the market selling veggies, fruits, flour, pasta, spices, and goods. Some of
them bake or fry things and others buy goods in bulk from the city to sell at
marked up prices here. They are business-savvy. They mark up prices when an
item is scarce and they establish regular customers by giving <i>bacelas</i>, i.e. a bonus tomato or
tangerine. They are also extremely generous. If I’m looking for something in
the market that has run out, often times my friends will give me whatever it is
from their personal stash <i>mahala </i>(fo’
free). Or they will start up the network of market lady communication that
consists of yelling at each other like a big game of telephone until they’ve
tracked down the roaming pineapple vendor and told her to come to the other
side of the market to sell me a pineapple. Lo and behold, like magic the girl with
a bucket of pineapples on her head will appear five minutes later and cut the
rind off of one for me to hold by the stem and eat like a chicken leg. This
system also applies to town gossip, so you’d better be on your best behavior
around these ladies or the whole town will hear about it.</div>
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This is Balbina. She has a small shop where she sells goods
but she makes most of her living cooking meals. We have a tradition of eating <i>matapa </i>(pulverized greens cooked in a
coconut milk and peanut sauce, served with rice) with her every Sunday. She’s
also our neighbor and very good friend who enjoys cooking American desserts
like banana bread. Balbina is a single
mother of two, one daughter in college and a son in the second grade. Her
husband passed away over a decade ago, and she supports herself and her
children off of what she makes in her shop. Never have I heard her complain
about money or her life here in Panda, nor have I heard her talk about wishing
she had a man to support her. </div>
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This is Amelia, one of my students. She is in the ninth
grade and one of the brightest and sweetest </div>
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young ladies I have ever met. She’s
always got a smile on her face. As the oldest girl living in her house, she
wakes up early every morning to light the coal stove and make breakfast for
everyone. She bathes her younger siblings and gets them dressed. After everyone
is fed and the dishes are done, she heads into the market to sell vegetables
from her family’s farm. She works until mid morning, when she will rush home to
prepare lunch for the household, bathe, and go straight to school. She studies
from noon until five and then goes home to prepare dinner, clean the house, get
her siblings into bed and do all of her homework before going to sleep herself.
The next day it starts all over again. If she’s dedicated and gets good grades,
maybe her parents will let her go off to university or move to the city to get
a job. More likely, though, she will be expected to stay at home and do
domestic work until she finds a husband who will pay her father a nice <i>lobola</i> (dowry) for her. Still, she smiles and tells me she hopes to be a science teacher when I ask her what she wants to do after school.<br />
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This is Esperança, my newest amiga. She built this
restaurant right across from my house about a </div>
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month ago and we have become best
friends since then. She’s from the capitol city, Maputo, and she moved here because her husband is from here and as his wife it's her job to take care of the household. She says since she’s from the city it’s hard to make friends here, but we were kindred spirits from the moment we met. She likes to practice English with us and gives us frozen juice pops when it’s hot out. When I asked about her husband, who works in South Africa and is away most of the time, she said it's hard being apart but only for her because since he is a man he has other girlfriends wherever he is. She said this without a second thought, because that's the way it is here. I asked her why she is okay with that and if it hurts her to know he is unfaithful. She replied "No, what hurts is to see it. Because it's happening so far away I can just not think about it and it doesn't hurt. But that's just the way men are." Unfortunately this is true for almost every single Mozambican couple. It's considered inconceivable to be faithful to your partner, which is one of the biggest reasons that HIV transmission is so high here.<br />
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These are a few of my REDES girls. REDES stands for Girls
Involved in Development, Education and Health in Portuguese. We meet once a
week to discuss issues that young women face in this country, including HIV
vulnerability, domestic violence, rape, child marriages and forced marriages,
lack of education and employment opportunities, pressure to conform to domestic
roles, self-image and discrimination. They are always open and honest in our
discussions and they surprise me every day with their insightful questions and
observations. They are independent girls with big dreams and visions for their
futures.</div>
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In addition to facilitating this small group, I have also
been serving as the Assistant Coordinator of the REDES project. It’s almost
time for me to hand over my position to new leadership, but in my time spent
working with this organization I have learned so much about the importance of
the empowerment and education of women in a society. The female education rate and involvement in income generation is one of the markers for a country to be considered developed. There’s a
reason for this, and it is that in a society where women are empowered and
allowed to join the workforce, its economic productivity increases
significantly over those where they are not. This has been proven over a number
of humanitarian studies, and I’ll reference them below if you are interested in
the science behind it. You can also just take my word for it, but the basic
principle behind this is that women are extremely hard and resilient workers. </div>
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You might have started thinking about some strong women you
know, or you may be proud that I’m describing your own gender this way, but let
me tell you about the women of the third world, because they blow you and me
and every other lady with first world problems out of the water. They don’t
make excuses or claim weakness or frailty. They don’t accept lowered
expectations assigned to their gender, even in societies where their role in
income generation is severely limited. They don’t even complain about being
left out of the boy’s club. They rise above and beyond what’s expected of them.
They do manual labor in extreme conditions with their babies strapped to their
backs. They carry things weighing five times their own body weight. They find a
way to make the most out of every day in order to support themselves and their
families. Their actions are speaking loudly, and they’re showing us up. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLboKneVPvGr5aC_yDGxCvpZFykqLnwhoh_RScyd5puUH9jVqDVVGy6C5JafhK6VhbhX_FcmT6eTbd4TOhoZCYDRv_uoofzRb5u9znfbcCUueUCKWGCdn6bJebJ-_nKK8EH74wMN3LNuzj/s1600/woman.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLboKneVPvGr5aC_yDGxCvpZFykqLnwhoh_RScyd5puUH9jVqDVVGy6C5JafhK6VhbhX_FcmT6eTbd4TOhoZCYDRv_uoofzRb5u9znfbcCUueUCKWGCdn6bJebJ-_nKK8EH74wMN3LNuzj/s320/woman.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo credit: Alex Ernst</td></tr>
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So here’s what happens when I see all the sexist jokes and
the anti-feminism attitude coming from the other side of the world: I get
offended. But I don’t get offended on my own account. I am thinking of these
women here, and women like them across the globe. I’m thinking of girls sold or
forced into prostitution and traded as sex slaves. I’m thinking of the
mail-order brides and the women who are blamed and persecuted for their own
rapes. I’m not overreacting here…and I’m not blaming men either. It’s the
fundamental idea that women matter less that breeds a society that oppresses
women. You may not think anything of the sandwich joke, or the women-belong-in-the-kitchen
quip, and I remember laughing at them myself, but the next time you hear one
think of Amelia. Amelia is actually in the kitchen making food for her family,
and she may very well have to stay there doing that because her society believes
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There is change in the wind here though, and seeing it
unfold is encouraging. This new generation of Mozambican women is taking
control of the job market, politics and higher education. They are realizing
their worth and demanding the respect they deserve. I can’t wait for the day
the women of Africa take over the governments here, because there is nothing
more formidable than one of these ladies when they get angry. One of my friends once told me, referring to
her husband, “He may be the boss at work or outside the house, but this is my
house and when he walks through that door I am the boss.” Truer words have
never been spoken. </div>
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More reading on the female's role in economic development (if you're into that):</div>
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<a href="http://www.unwomen.org/~/media/headquarters/attachments/sections/library/publications/2014/unwomen_surveyreport_advance_16oct.pdf" target="_blank">UN World Survey on the Role of Women in Development</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.imf.org/external/pubs/ft/fandd/2012/03/revenga.htm" target="_blank">International Monetary Fund: "Empowering Women Is Smart Economics</a>"</div>
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Cara Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14627480604709365712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7609818094409064737.post-40885021119420685582015-09-25T00:49:00.000-07:002019-08-20T06:29:49.803-07:0025 Mean Girls GIFs That Convey My Feelings About Coming Home.<br />
I'll be home in November. That means only two months left of living this crazy African life, and two months til I'm shoved back into the crazy American life. There are many different emotions that arise when I think about this. Here are some gifs from Mean Girls to help sum them up.<br />
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Going to America is going to be really overwhelming. I can see myself getting to the airport like:<br />
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So much has happened since I've been gone. Every time I get online I'm just like:<br />
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<span style="text-align: center;">I know I'm going to be so out of touch that my friends won't know what to do with me.</span><img border="0" height="131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgohCLESCLJA-xDWYnivK72FSIRlTODQbuwOaD3muCvg7MGkatl7o5zWA7HvNk6IZ3ISYGjuu_I34R8gRJa1uZPoJIMi1qL4No8Np3J_CN3zF6G_AyuVQdUkLuta_QE-HGVQES7H54xLqHU/s320/rpcv+mg.gif" style="text-align: center;" width="320" /></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;">And I'll just be saying all kinds of weird stuff that doesn't make sense to them.</span></div>
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There will be all kinds of things that people back home just won't get.<br />
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I'm already preparing my sarcastic responses to all of the Africa questions.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM11jgNWYEefEnGIx75pQ_b3SNhCqL6Usnlr_NW3IktvDHwibY1xCSUYemP2cDmEAa5q2IjjUEuKWu0LNU-_od-xxmRbZ9l1yvUynPA0L9CiBzUTlaqV4DXFXA-LhznvpdE5e8avpSuYv-/s1600/rpcv+mg13.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><img border="0" height="151" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM11jgNWYEefEnGIx75pQ_b3SNhCqL6Usnlr_NW3IktvDHwibY1xCSUYemP2cDmEAa5q2IjjUEuKWu0LNU-_od-xxmRbZ9l1yvUynPA0L9CiBzUTlaqV4DXFXA-LhznvpdE5e8avpSuYv-/s320/rpcv+mg13.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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I'm really afraid people will be telling me their first world problems...<br />
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...and I'll just be like<br />
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Sometimes I get really excited to buy new clothes again!<br />
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...but then I remember I'm broke.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNl_5rF4GJg5zVR3PXQuEtdoQzmFtDqDT0bZiFUsXFnNOqbxTVFl7Rp-m8H41DWNGHAZtVrJKVHfqrV0xOFXox6GbVFw12LtqOUDIDLORsIGnEICMhkfmzmMhzhbW68ngRGH5gOgqtX9Fg/s1600/rpcv+mg5.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><img border="0" height="128" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNl_5rF4GJg5zVR3PXQuEtdoQzmFtDqDT0bZiFUsXFnNOqbxTVFl7Rp-m8H41DWNGHAZtVrJKVHfqrV0xOFXox6GbVFw12LtqOUDIDLORsIGnEICMhkfmzmMhzhbW68ngRGH5gOgqtX9Fg/s320/rpcv+mg5.gif" width="320" /></a><br />
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...and that all the white carbs of Moz cuisine were not friendly to my hips.<br />
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Moz was also not friendly to my skin/hair/nails/general health and well being.<br />
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I've got to job hunt from the technology black hole that is Africa, and I'm over here trying to make Peace Corps look good on my resume like:<br />
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Whatever. I'll probably have to get a second job as a drug dealer anyway in order to pay off my student loans.<br />
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Some things I will not miss about Peace Corps:<br />
Being the odd one out.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCZf2QhG8HrGW8CSpP9JtB0f0pzwWkcwKYNDKsPRIMBS6YzBUb6hX6JZxOCbk6jh140l6-9_-6Hb3-OUTvxjyTL4LXRVtGn_uKbZBBBxz9A9Bcq4Ts0VHBaWliMe6ETvpqQhZ3d59lP6m0/s1600/rpcv+mg7.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><img border="0" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCZf2QhG8HrGW8CSpP9JtB0f0pzwWkcwKYNDKsPRIMBS6YzBUb6hX6JZxOCbk6jh140l6-9_-6Hb3-OUTvxjyTL4LXRVtGn_uKbZBBBxz9A9Bcq4Ts0VHBaWliMe6ETvpqQhZ3d59lP6m0/s320/rpcv+mg7.gif" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCZf2QhG8HrGW8CSpP9JtB0f0pzwWkcwKYNDKsPRIMBS6YzBUb6hX6JZxOCbk6jh140l6-9_-6Hb3-OUTvxjyTL4LXRVtGn_uKbZBBBxz9A9Bcq4Ts0VHBaWliMe6ETvpqQhZ3d59lP6m0/s1600/rpcv+mg7.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><br /></a><span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;">People asking to buy my hair to use as weave.</span></div>
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<span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><br />The impending risk of getting maimed in a traffic accident.</span><span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><br /></span><span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></span><br />
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Things I will miss about Peace Corps:</div>
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Dancing like a fool at the discotecas.<br />
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The general lack of responsibilities, 'cause let's face it:<br />
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Most of all, my PCV peeps. Despite their quirks they have become some of my best friends.<br />
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Things I am looking forward to:<br />
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Yes! Yes, I DO want to go to Taco Bell.<br />
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'Til November. Be gentle, America.<br />
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<br />Cara Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14627480604709365712noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7609818094409064737.post-59739194292041414422015-08-10T10:18:00.002-07:002019-08-20T06:29:50.059-07:00Dog Days<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
In honor of my pup's
second year with us, I wanted to write a blog about having a dog in the Peace
Corps. Before I came to Africa my dad told me a story about a volunteer he knew
who had two pet mongeese that he brought back to America with him. After hearing
that story along with numerous others about finding snakes in your
house/bath/bed/shoes, I decided that my first order of business as a volunteer
would be to find and train a mongoose to keep the snakes at bay. Instead I
ended up with a dog who can't fetch, thinks the couch is hers and hers alone,
and will come running from miles away if she hears a package of crackers
opening. Despite her quirks though, she is a good dog. So here's an ode to Lua.</div>
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Lua is an
approximately-two-year-old African mutt which I would describe as a mixture of
whippet and jackal. My only basis for that assumption are her funky ears and
how quick she is while chasing chickens. She will actually lap them when she
catches up just so she can continue chasing after them. One thing about having
a dog in Africa is the danger that someone will decide to poison, kill, or eat
them. Yes, that's right…eat them. Dogs are generally mistreated and feared
around here, and if one were to kill or injure your neighbor's livestock you
can bet they'll be around for vengeance. Kids throw rocks at puppies and beat
them with sticks, and adults are quick to toss boiling water at a dog sniffing
around their yard for scraps. They are valued as guard animals, but even kept
as such they can also be mistreated and poorly trained, making them mean and
keeping up their stigma of being terrifying creatures. There are exceptions to
this, though. Not all Mozambicans are afraid of dogs and we have been very
lucky as everyone in our neighborhood loves Lua. They leave their leftover meat
out for her so much that she often snubs her dinner at our house in preference
for the neighborhood buffet. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Grudgingly) Feeding her puppies...</td></tr>
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Lua is very well
trained, which helps with her reputation. She was originally another
volunteer's dog, but when her owner
changed sites to a city far away we adopted her. When she came to live with us
she already knew how to sit, stay and heel, and we've been working on some new
tricks since then (fetch being the most difficult for some reason). She also
waits for the "eat" command, so she won't steal food out of your hand
or off your table, and will stand over her food looking back at you if you
forget to say it at mealtime. She understands most of her commands in
Portuguese, but I've noticed she's also bilingual and will occasionally follow
a command given in English. She also loves to play with kids. Every Saturday we
wait for the inevitable chorus of children singing "Luuuuuuuaaaaaaaaa" to try and
coerce her out of the house to come play. I actually think she's more
integrated than we are here, because when I take her on walks people I have
never met before come out and greet her before they even say hello to me. </div>
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There are challenges
to keeping a dog, or any pet, as a Peace Corps volunteer. The most obvious is
that there are going to be some extra expenses on your already ridiculously
meek stipend. Also there aren't a lot of quality vets nearby, and hitchhiking or
riding a bus with a dog isn't the most logistically sound travel option. Lucky
for us Lua came complete with a collar, leash, and deworming pills from her
previous owner, and I received a two-year supply of Advantix treatments from a
lovely USAID worker and former PCV whom I met in the capitol. We feed Lua a
mixture of dried shrimp and xima (course corn flour…sort of like grits) and
everyone in the market thinks it's hilarious that we feed her shrimp. She even
has a good friend in the market who lets her sit under the shrimp table and eat
the bits that fall down underneath. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...And hiding from them in the planter.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lua hates her dog pants.</td></tr>
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The most difficult
challenge of having a pet here is that, if it's a girl, it's going to get
pregnant. There's no great option for spaying that won't either be logistically
or fiscally impossible, so when Lua is in heat the only option is extreme
vigilance. I say this because we have already been through one pregnancy and
while you may think puppies are cute and cuddly, I know that they are actually
loud and annoying and disgusting. Also a hormonal momma dog is just the worst.
She would actually hide in our planters just so the puppies couldn't reach her
to nurse. Jerk. Fortunately heat only happens twice a year, and while we failed
miserably at keeping her chaste last time, this time we've got the jump on her.
First order is complete lockdown and constant supervision: when she's not
locked in the house she has to stay on her chain, and only when one or both of
us is around to fend off potential suitors by pelting them with rocks (yes, I
realize I condemned this very practice in the beginning of this post, but they
deserve it). We also keep a doggy diaper/chastity belt on her that we fashioned
out of capulana, and cover it for good measure with an old pair of underpants
with a hole we cut for her tail. Lua hates the dog-pants with a fiery passion
and will often dramatically shake while we put them on her as if she's about to
encounter the devil himself. It has been particularly successful though, and
it's hilarious to watch dogs try to mount her and then whine in confusion as
they sniff around the contraption. Our neighbors find it equally hilarious,
although they are extremely unhelpful in fending off the puppy-daddies and even
complain that we're being mean in forbidding her to have sex when she so
clearly wants to. The whole thing makes me feel like the strict parent of a
teenager. One of our neighbors did commend her on her responsible practice of
family planning, though.</div>
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All the negatives
aside, I wouldn't trade Lua for the world. It gets lonely here sometimes, and
she's the best companion I could ask for. She's not the greatest at keeping
critters out of our house; in fact she usually makes a swift exit or hides
under the couch at the site of any large insects, and she recently let a
chicken walk into my room and refused to chase it out. She is a great running
partner, though, and I'll be amazed if I ever find a person that's as happy to
see me as she is after I've been away. Upon my most recent return home, I had
been on the verge of bursting my bladder for about two hours and I ran straight
off of the chapa into the bathroom. I heard a strange galloping noise coming
towards me and knew that Lua had seen me arrive. She doesn't usually go into
the latrine but will sit outside in anticipation to accost you as soon as you
come out. This time, though, I guess she just missed me too much. Next thing I
knew Lua had burst through the door at full speed to jump on me in the potty.
She nearly caused me to pee all over myself but I could hardly be mad at her,
because that's the kind of love you just don't find in another human being. </div>
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Cara Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14627480604709365712noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7609818094409064737.post-81994485458316671072015-06-05T10:54:00.000-07:002019-08-20T06:29:50.420-07:00Terra de Boa Gente<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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They say the last six months of your Peace Corps service fly by. I'm not sure who 'they' are but I beg to differ. These next six months are gonna drag by...just like the months between finding out my date to arrive in Mozambique and actually getting here. I've already bought my ticket home and after a day in Berlin I'll be back on American soil by November 22nd! Knowing that no one short of God Himself can keep me here past that day elates me, but then I remember I've still got six months left and that's enough to mellow me out to just above apathy. Here I will hover and try to squeeze in as many adventures as possible and finish up all of my projects before leaving...all the while dreaming of cheeseburgers and pedicures.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjew52LNowb5qS9Qz0RSyqJbJ_AfVcJvzyJcr_j6Kk5pgl-u-igo53q7S-u9myLsfMlxTSjGwr6UBGo0cUk0qiEE46Fgg6Z_E7hCpmoy2ZgSc0LDyUy36vACuxBzX6zA5gm2jHRUp0JqPrL/s1600/IMG_5037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjew52LNowb5qS9Qz0RSyqJbJ_AfVcJvzyJcr_j6Kk5pgl-u-igo53q7S-u9myLsfMlxTSjGwr6UBGo0cUk0qiEE46Fgg6Z_E7hCpmoy2ZgSc0LDyUy36vACuxBzX6zA5gm2jHRUp0JqPrL/s200/IMG_5037.JPG" width="200" /></a>So in celebration of the light at the end of the tunnel finally arriving, I'll update you on some things that have been going on around here. A while back I wrote a grant to fund a musical production group called POSITIVO to come Panda to create and record a song about malaria with some of my students. The group travels all over the country with their sound and video equipment to get young people involved in spreading positive messages to their peers and communities through music. A few weeks ago we were able to bring them here and the result was fantastic. The kids <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq2Hzdwn-gUcUg9Rs55r8G874G5MAQAJ08rWzy5tjMdgksY1fU3as5FsO-810l593Go6Bce9d7kCZaqOFN8lg87LB3vv03mVLOjWTjfuWxia7EwAIVs4dPsDgBlza53MufHr4E91rv1zXm/s1600/IMG_5051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq2Hzdwn-gUcUg9Rs55r8G874G5MAQAJ08rWzy5tjMdgksY1fU3as5FsO-810l593Go6Bce9d7kCZaqOFN8lg87LB3vv03mVLOjWTjfuWxia7EwAIVs4dPsDgBlza53MufHr4E91rv1zXm/s320/IMG_5051.JPG" width="240" /></a>collaboratively wrote a chorus and individually wrote their own verses. They then performed them over a beat that POSITIVO made and it sounds pretty darn cool. The song is in Portuguese, but the basic message is that we can overcome malaria together if we're not neglectful. After recording the music, they filmed a music video and also performed at our school during the morning break, which was awesome and made them all feel like rockstars.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGBkN-imDSH7z-dX3p7gv6LNISKWkubF6eDw36D4N1EWvQxTyODh88LviLG9McaZLRIrxwd5xjI4xGZlLBw3KvVzGSmSTknoUxuUzVxyR4QvaVTvYG5cBTPApBGBioa88m5D7C_RUM9X7i/s1600/panda.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGBkN-imDSH7z-dX3p7gv6LNISKWkubF6eDw36D4N1EWvQxTyODh88LviLG9McaZLRIrxwd5xjI4xGZlLBw3KvVzGSmSTknoUxuUzVxyR4QvaVTvYG5cBTPApBGBioa88m5D7C_RUM9X7i/s400/panda.jpg" width="400" /></a>Two weeks ago we had our provincial workshop for REDES, the girl's empowerment organization I work with. At the workshop all the groups and group leaders from across the province got together to talk about everything from income generation techniques to women's health. I brought along the girls in my group and I was so impressed with them. They had no fear about asking questions that would have surely embarrassed me too much to ask at their age. They also knew so much more than I expected them to about sex, HIV, domestic violence, and how to be successful in business ventures. One of them, Tarcia, was reading ahead and taking notes in her workbook, and when I asked her why she replied that she was "cheating" so that nobody could say that Mana Cara didn't teach the girls from Panda enough. I laughed out loud at that, but it also really touched me. I'm very lucky to be a friend to these awesome girls and to help them make good decisions to become independent and successful women in a place where most girls unfortunately will never have that chance. Also during the workshop the tshirts I designed for this year were unveiled! They have our emblem on the front and on the back they say "I AM....Strong, Capable, Beautiful, Active, Intelligent, Determined, Valuable...I AM A GIRL."<br />
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This past weekend I went to Bushfire, a music festival in Swaziland. I've never been to any of the big music fests in the States, but it was definitely a great first experience. There were a lot of local performers from Swazi, South Africa, and Moz but there were also some international groups I've never heard of that I immediately hit up on iTunes upon returning home. Aside from great music for 48 straight hours, the food was enough to make me never want to leave. I had a burrito for the first time since coming here, and there were even a bunch of American dudes with a corndog stand, complete with a lifesized cardboard cutout of Obama holding a corndog. I don't even like corndogs that much, but I definitely ate a few of those for old times sake. Not all new experiences are good, though. I woke up Saturday morning to find 1,000 people in line for about 6 private showers. The other option was the communal outdoor shower, or a partially tarped off area where you can take a freezing cold shower in the mud with a bunch of strangers while even more strangers and random workers on tractors pass by the exposed side. So, since my pride and patience have both been worn pretty thin so far by living the Peace Corps life, I said to hell with it and stripped down. If there was any argument left for how "hippie" I've become, that probably sealed the deal.</div>
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On my way back home from the festival, I relied on the kindness of strangers to get me back to Panda. On the final leg of my travel, the driver said upon entering Inhambane Province, "Terra de Boa Gente!" That's our province's slogan, kind of like the "City of Brotherly Love" or "Georgia on My Mind," and it means Land of Good People. It's true. The people I live with are my family. My neighbors, my colleagues, the guy at the post office, strangers on the street...they will all go out of their way to help you out as if they've known you forever. Good people with big hearts that show compassion and generosity towards others...that's what I'll miss most about this place. But I've still got six months to enjoy it! Not to mention projects to manage, lessons to plan, and reports to file, and yeah I'm gonna go ahead and stop procrastinating now. Ate ja!</div>
Cara Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14627480604709365712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7609818094409064737.post-35421720285155481682015-04-07T05:24:00.002-07:002019-08-20T06:29:49.598-07:00Malaria's a Buzzkill<br />
We Sub-Saharan-African PCV's are all gearing up for World Malaria Day this month (April 25th) by making an extra effort to educate our communities here and back home about the illness and what can be done to prevent it. You may already know a bit about Malaria, but I'll bet if you keep reading (and you don't work for WHO) you'll still learn a thing or two!<br />
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<b><span style="color: purple;">So, what is Malaria?</span></b></h3>
Malaria is caused by a parasite called <i>Plasmodium. </i><br />
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<i>Plasmodium, </i>as a baby, enters the bloodstream and travels to the liver, where it matures and makes more <i>Plasmodiums. </i>After a few days, the mature parasites leave the liver and get to work infecting blood cells.<br />
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<i>Plasmodium </i>is transmitted to humans through the bite of infected mosquitoes.<br />
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The breed of mosquito that carries the Malaria parasites (yeah, there are different breeds) exists primarily in Africa. It doesn't exist in North America anymore because of insecticide-spraying measures taken by the US in the late 1940's. I can only imagine what the all-natural-all-organic-completely-against-chemicals-even-though-they-also-exist-in-nature folks would have done to keep the disease alive had they been around back then (looking at you, California).<br />
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Anyway, when the female mosquitoes get pregnant, they crave blood because they need it to carry out egg production. You know how pregnant ladies are when they get cravings....<br />
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So when one of these hangry mommas bites you, you're left with not only an annoyingly itchy bite, but also a lovely batch of parasites waiting to take over your body.<br />
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<span style="color: purple;">What happens when you have Malaria?</span></h3>
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Usually Malaria symptoms are similar to those of the flu: fever, chills, nausea, and all around feeling like you've been hit by a train. In rare cases, or when left untreated, Malaria can cause seizures, brain damage, spleen rupture, severe anemia, kidney failure, respiratory distress, and death. Pregnant women are especially at risk for Malaria complications and contracting it can result in premature delivery or birth of an underweight baby, as well as stillbirth and miscarriage.</div>
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<span style="color: purple;">Why should I care about Malaria?</span></h3>
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Here are some not-so-fun facts about the illness:</div>
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<li>Every year, <b><span style="color: purple;">half of the world's entire population</span></b> is at risk for contracting Malaria (about <b><i><span style="color: purple;">3.2 billion</span></i></b> people)</li>
<li>Each year about <span style="color: purple;"><b><i>200 million</i> </b></span>people contract the disease and almost <span style="color: purple;"><b><i>600 million</i></b></span> people die from it.</li>
<li>Every <span style="color: purple; font-weight: bold;">60 seconds</span>, a child dies of Malaria.</li>
<li><b><span style="color: purple;"><i>90%</i></span></b> of all Malaria deaths occur in <span style="color: purple;"><b>Africa</b></span>, most of them children under 5.</li>
<li>In<b><span style="color: purple;"> Mozambique</span></b> alone, about <span style="color: purple;"><b><i>30%</i></b></span> of all deaths are Malaria related, and about <b><span style="color: purple;"><i>14,000</i> </span></b>children die of the disease each year.</li>
<li>Parasite<b> <span style="color: purple;">resistance to anti-malarial drugs</span></b> has already emerged and is a serious concern, mostly caused by stopping treatment as soon as the person feels better.</li>
<li><b><span style="color: purple;">Malaria targets the poor:</span></b> Since insecticide treatments, bed nets and even treatment are very expensive, most of the people affected by Malaria cannot afford to treat it or protect themselves from it. Not to mention that when working adults get sick they lose valuable income and ultimately hurt the fragile economy of the affected countries.<br /></li>
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<span style="color: purple;">Is there any good news?</span></h3>
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I spent a lot of time looking at statistics, trying to find a positive correlation between reported Malaria cases and things like education rates, HDI, per capita GDP, international aid, and infrastructure. No matter what I put it up against, though, Malaria just kept steadily rising regardless of other fluctuations. It's an outlier. But how does that make sense? Surely with education and funding Malaria rates should go down. </div>
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Part of the reason behind this is that better infrastructure and more development in the health sector goes hand in hand with better reporting of diseases. Another reason could be due to over-reporting. Unfortunately, this happens in malarious countries because the rate of malaria is so high and the clinics are too underequipped/underfunded to keep up with blood tests for all of the malaria-suspect patients that come through the door each day. Instead, they just send patients with flu-like symptoms home with a scrip for anti-malarial drugs and those that have access to them and can afford them then contribute to the parasite drug-resistance problem by taking them unnecessarily.</div>
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There is good news, though. What we know for sure is that Malaria mortality rates have fallen by over half in sub-Saharan Africa, and 47% worldwide in the last decade. That's serious progress! Early diagnosis and treatment is essential to preventing Malaria deaths and also for reducing transmission rates, but the serious work is being done on the prevention side with bed nets, insecticide treatments and <i>education</i>. </div>
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The best news, though? <b>You can help.</b></div>
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<b><span style="color: purple;">Great, I'll go change my facebook profile pic right now!</span></b></h3>
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Hold on a sec. While I admire your initiative in raising awareness, how about considering something that will directly impact the problem? Yep, that requires money/time/sacrifice, but you can feel good about the fact that you are directly contributing to the eradication of Malaria! There are lots of ways to help out. You could:</div>
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<li>Buy a <b><span style="color: purple;">mosquito bed net</span></b> for just <b><span style="color: purple;">$10</span></b> to protect someone from Malaria. Forego Starbucks three times this month and you can give someone here in Africa a safe place to sleep tonight. <a href="https://secure.globalproblems-globalsolutions.org/site/Donation2?1340.donation=form1&df_id=1340&JServSessionIdr004=mwxjhwskl2.app220b" target="_blank">Donate to the UN campaign Nothing But Nets here</a>.</li>
<li>Host a <span style="color: purple;"><b>basketball game fundraiser</b></span> for Nothing But Nets. If you're a teacher, rec league coach, or you've got kids in school, you can make this season count by hosting a game and providing mosquito nets to people in Africa. Make it extra interesting with a teachers vs. students game! <a href="https://www.dosomething.org/campaigns/nets-nets?source=node/4807" target="_blank">Sign up to host a game here.</a></li>
<li>Give what you can to Malaria No More, and <span style="color: purple;"><b>each dollar you spend</b></span> will provide one child or pregnant mother with testing and treatment for Malaria. <a href="https://secure.malarianomore.org/po1/?r=UVxFWRX1dj&b=pJ5E6Ph581#/donate" target="_blank">Donate to Malaria No More here</a>.</li>
<li>Download the <b><span style="color: purple;">Best Fiends game</span></b> on your phone or tablet and let Edward the mosquito teach you about Malaria through a series of puzzles! Get the app for <a href="http://appstore.com/bestfiends" target="_blank">iPhone/iPad on the app store here</a>, or for all other devices on <a href="https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.Seriously.BestFiends" target="_blank">Google Play here</a>.</li>
<li>Donate to<b><span style="color: purple;"> Peace Corp's Stomp Out Malaria campaign</span></b>, and fund projects that PCVs like me are doing in their communities to educate, prevent and eradicate Malaria! <a href="https://beta.peacecorps.gov/donate/fund/stomping-out-malaria-africa/" target="_blank">Give to Stomp Out Malaria here.</a></li>
<li>Write a letter to your member of Congress to let them know you care about funding for Malaria. Right now it's going to take an estimated <b><span style="color: purple;">3.6 billion dollars</span></b> to eradicate Malaria worldwide, but<b><span style="color: purple;"> every dollar of aid counts</span></b> in helping individuals. In the coming months Congress will decide how much aid the US will contribute. You can write your own letter/email, or you can <a href="https://secure.globalproblems-globalsolutions.org/site/Advocacy?cmd=display&page=UserAction&id=343" target="_blank">use the online template here.</a><br /></li>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>Done! Now what?</b></span></h3>
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Help get the word out! Now's the time to change that profile pic, post a link, start a fundraiser of your own, bring up the cause at your next meeting, or just bring it up in conversation with your friends and colleagues. </div>
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Malaria sucks, just like every other deadly disease. As with all preventable diseases, we have a responsibility to do whatever we can to eradicate it for the sake of humanity. But with this particular disease, we (the First World) have put off committing to a worldwide eradication campaign, and now it's out of control. It will be harder and more expensive now because we waited, but we deserve that. We deserve it not only because it's our fault, but because the reason we've waited so long is that the people it affects are the Third World. It's easy to forget about them and hard to pay attention. It's really easy to say it's not our place or our mess or our fault, but that's not true. However you look at it, they are human as much as we are and if you take away this sense of "we" and "them" that we have you'll see that they deserve what everyone deserves: respect, health, and a right to pursue happiness. </div>
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"Our desire is not that others might be relieved while you are hard pressed, but that there might be equality. At the present time your plenty will supply what they need, so that in turn their plenty will supply what you need." 2 Corinthians 8:13-14</div>
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You don't have to be a Christian to believe in this. Call it Karma or being a good person or keeping the universe in balance or whatever you want...it's the same concept: equality. If it were America battling an illness that we couldn't afford to combat (as it very well may be someday) I'd want the countries and corporations and individuals that could afford to pay for it to give whatever it costs to save us.</div>
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So let's not put it off any longer; let's do it, not because of foreign or political interests and not because of what we might get in return, but because it's the right thing to do.</div>
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<i>*Malaria facts and statistics obtained from WHO, CDC, the UN, Gapminder, and Malaria No More.</i></div>
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Cara Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14627480604709365712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7609818094409064737.post-33108974749243249722015-03-14T07:21:00.002-07:002019-08-20T06:29:49.497-07:0010 Things I Took For Granted: A Cost-Benefit Analysis of Living Without Luxury<br />
Don't be fooled by the title of this post, it's not complicated and it's not about economics...a word I personally can't even say without yawning. First of all, I'm not going to apologize for the infrequency of my posts anymore because a) I'm busy, and b) I'm tired of doing it every single time I post something. Just remember that you get what you pay for, and this endearingly amateur prose I provide is free.<br />
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It's funny I should bring up the mantra "you get what you pay for," because it fits right into the theme of this post. Recently I started a unit on Excel and small business ventures for my 12th grade ICT class with the intention of squeezing some knowledge of income generation principles in with all the formula confusion. I got the idea to have them do a cost-benefit analysis of two small businesses in their community, and then while researching cost-benefit analyses I became slightly obsessed with them. I started to cost-benefit analyze all of my actions, like getting up at 9:00 AM vs. 8, studying for the GRE vs. binge-watching House of Cards, and walking to the market vs. just eating tuna again for dinner.<br />
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So here I'd like to do a cost-benefit analysis of living poor vs. having all of the luxuries I took for granted in the States. You may be thinking, "Woah...poor? That's not a very PC term. Wouldn't "simply" or "within modest means" be prettier?" Nope. I'm poor. Just to prove it to you, I will reveal that I live on $200 a month. This has to cover food, water, electricity, travel, internet/phone credit, our help with dishes, laundry and water-hauling (yes, that's an essential living expense), and any misc. expenses for the month. Just to make that hit home, that's less than a quarter of what I'd be receiving on welfare, and 21% below the US poverty threshold for a single person. Even so, I'm pretty well off compared to most of the family households in my community. Poor is a relative term, of course.<br />
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Here's the list of the top things I now realize I took for granted living in the US, how living without them has affected me and how I believe they affect societies in general.<br />
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*Note: These are ranked by how much I took them for granted (i.e. how quickly I would decide to give up my right arm to have them at this moment in time), not by their impact on society.<br />
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10. Diversity<br />
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This one ranks low on my list because being the only white person around sometimes has its perks here, like getting the front seat in a chapa that's usually reserved for men, or claiming ignorance of cultural norms/school policies when I really just don't want to follow them. I don't want to downplay how alienating it is, though. Being stared at everywhere you go, being catcalled in broken english and constantly disrespected, being distrusted or discredited at work, and being held to a different standard than the rest of your colleagues is exhausting and frustrating. Not only that, but the amount of times someone has asked in disbelief, "You have black people in America?" baffles me.<br />
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I think being exposed to such a wide variety of people is something all Americans take for granted to some degree. Speaking generally, people of the same race, religion, and background tend to stick together. We tend to pick our friends based on common interest, but there is a beneficial affect on our psyche when we surround ourselves with different kinds of people. If you want racism, sexism, and other discriminations to dissipate, the best thing you can do as an individual is to befriend people who are different than you. That's when you really start to accept, on a conscious and an intuitive level, that we're all human beings deserving respect, and that's when you'll start to make decisions based on that respect.<br />
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9. Reliable Government/Democracy<br />
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Again, really important on a society level...but not affecting me so much as the lack of delicious ready-to-eat fried chicken. All jokes aside, the US government is something I seriously took for granted. We can complain about its problems and corruption, and we can even be justified in our complaints, but we've got a better system in place than 90% of the World and we're constantly working to make it better. I take comfort in knowing that vaccines, antibiotics and antiviral drugs are available, that emergency medical care will be given to me regardless of my ability to pay, that if things get really bad and I can't afford to feed myself I can apply for aid, and that I don't have to carry bribe money for the police every time I get on the road. The opportunity to be a part of the change in my government is something I will never complain about.<br />
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8. Air Conditioning<br />
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Big switch here, but if your air has ever gone out in the dead of summer while the repairman is on vacation you know what I'm talking about. Except, you don't. Sorry friends and loved ones but when you compare the heat of the Southeastern US with this heat in Southeastern Africa it's the biggest understatement you could possibly make. The sun is literally closer to me. This means that not only is it hotter but the sun's rays are more intense, resulting in what feels like an oven set to 300F on a cloudless day. Add in the humidity of being on the coast and it's kin to that oven and the sauna in your gym combined. I can't even use the expression "sweating like a whore in church" because if that whore was sweating like I am I have no doubts that she would promptly be kicked out of church, or maybe be taken to the hospital.<br />
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How does AC affect society? I'm convinced it makes us more efficient and happier in general. The Mozambican workday in the summer is slow and there are lots of breaks because it's way to hot to sit inside. Also it's too hot to eat or sleep at night so everyone just stays in this daze of weakness and lack of motivation to do anything except nap. AC keeps us moving quicker, working longer, and sleeping better. Can't argue with a blessing like that.<br />
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7. 9-1-1<br />
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I had a dream a couple of nights ago that one of my students came into my house and refused to leave. So, essentially a nightmare. One of my threats to coerce him into leaving was to call the police to come remove him. I picked up my phone and started to dial 911 and then I realized that number means nothing here.<br />
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Don't get me wrong, there are police here in my village. If I needed them I'd just have to walk down the road to the station and get one. In bigger cities there's a definite police presence in the streets at all hours to enforce the law (and harass foreigners). I'm sure there's also a station number to call in the cities as well. One of the things I like about my village is the fact that I don't feel the need to have constant contact with the police to feel safe. I think it says a lot about the communal sense of security that exists in rural Mozambique. 911 is about more than just police, though. It's about the fact that when you're in danger of dying, you have an escape plan.<br />
<br />
If I'm in a tight spot, it would take Peace Corps approximately 14 hours, best case scenario, to get me to the capitol. Add another 4-10 hours if it's something like emergency surgery that would need to happen in South Africa. This doesn't worry me too much because there aren't that many things that will kill you in under 24 hours but not instantly. What would worry me is if I were a national, and I had no real hope of immediate help in an emergency. The impact as far as I can tell is that people rely more on each other than they do the police, and they take precautions into their own hands when needed. Walk through any city in the developing world and this is evident by the fortress-style iron grating, electric fences, and broken glass/barbed wire used to protect residences and businesses. Of course, we've got our alarm systems and deadbolts, but there isn't a constant need to worry about being the victim of a crime in your own home when the authorities are about 10 minutes, not 4 hours, away.<br />
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6. Libraries<br />
<br />
The availability of information is invaluable to me as a scientist. Libraries are free sources of information that have unfortunately lost popularity with the growth of the internet. You can still use the internet for free at the library, though. Free information for all! It's such an amazing concept. Every time I want to assign a research project to my students I have to print out articles for them to use, and every weekend flocks of children gather to look at our small collection of children's books. There is no building with free access to books, dictionaries, atlases, newspapers, computers, and internet. It just doesn't exist.<br />
<br />
Obvious impacts are literacy rates and education quality, but I also think taking away that hub of credible information causes a dangerous shift. When your only source of information comes from the internet, television, and gossip, critical thinking and careful research go out the window (or never come into the picture in the first place). People stop questioning what they hear and more readily accept it to be true.<br />
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This may just be an inevitable trait of humanity though, given the measles outbreak in the Land of Information because people started believing vaccines are more dangerous than infectious disease epidemics. Hey, easy fix: lock everyone in a library who believes Facebook articles and/or celebrities are credible sources until they see the light and/or all succumb to rubella.<br />
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5. 24/7<br />
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This encompasses everything convenient about America, and our passion for making the most of our time. In Mozambique things are not so. The lunch break starts at noon and ends at 2:30 (or so). Things close promptly at 6 on weekdays and noon on Saturday, and good luck finding anything open on Sunday. This is not to say that you couldn't walk a mile to pay your electricity bill only to find that the sole employee of the energy company is inexplicably not there at 9:30 AM on a Tuesday. Life here is, in a word, inconvenient.<br />
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Astonishingly, people just accept the inconvenience of life for what it is, mostly because they've never known anything different. I, however, have an extremely hard time accepting the inconveniences and usually end up taking it out on the unsuspecting postal worker, waitress, or aforementioned energy company employee. Life is slower here, and that means less efficiency and productivity. But it also means less stress and frustration, with an ability to let things go that are out of your control. This I can admire, because I lack the ability to not try to control everything.<br />
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I often make fun of how slowly Mozambicans walk, dubbing it the "Mozambican Mosey." If I think about it, though, it accurately reflects the lifestyle here. For us in America, life is all about the destination. We live our lives constantly thinking about the future, preparing for what's next. Mozambicans live in the present. They're mind is on the moment they're in, so there's no rush to get to the next one. The journey is as important as the destination, so why hurry?<br />
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4. Wifi<br />
<br />
OK, so it's not so hard living without wifi, but I lump this in with reliable cell service, internet, and all the things that instantly connect us to other people. Being connected to anyone with the press of the send button meant constant communication and no interruptions in social connections or productivity.<br />
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Now, conversations with friends and family are much more infrequent, and there's really no good way to keep up with everyone I used to talk to regularly. I just find out they're engaged or pregnant or moving to China whenever I log onto Facebook. Even contact within country is spotty and sometimes my village goes days without cell phone service, sans viable explanation.<br />
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I will say that each conversation I do have is more meaningful, partly because we have substantial things to talk about and partly because there's no such thing as unlimited pre-paid phone credit, so minutes are meticais! Arguments can be made that not having internet access is a blessing, but I maintain that despite the positives of being off the grid, it is still overall a curse. Not to mention, the "days since this iPhone has been backed up" notification is driving me insane, like tally marks on my prison cell wall.<br />
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3. Transportation<br />
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Safe, reliable transportation makes life less stressful, and less dangerous. First of all, having (enforced) safety regulations on all vehicles before allowing them registration is somewhat of an obvious yet overlooked measure in the developing world. I mean, you can charge money for these inspections, make it a profitable endeavor, and ensure the safety of your citizens. But noooooo, because then the colorful culture of cramming 40 people into a barely road-worthy pickup with secondhand tires and a transmission welded together in the market by some guy named "Rasta" would die. Can't be having that.<br />
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I want to say I took for granted having my own car, but I think I really took for granted having my own personal space in a car...or train or bus or boat. Also, the fixed scheduled departures and arrivals, coupled with the convenience of everyone else you know having a car, even if you don't (see number 5). The result? You always get to work on time, right?<br />
<br />
Nope...just traffic. But at least there's AC! ;)<br />
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3. Prepared Meals<br />
<br />
I couldn't decide whether to put fast food, restaurants, or just American food in general, so I decided on meals prepared by someone else other than myself. This is an important distinction because, while I firmly believe food from any other country just isn't as good as the American variety, I have had good food here. Just last night I made the best black bean enchiladas with homemade sauce. They were delicious, but they took me hours to make and they would have been just as delicious coming from a Mexican restaurant where someone spent hours making them for me.<br />
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The main point here is that meals are ready and available everywhere back home, and here they take hours to prepare. There's no sandwich meat or microwaves, and even salad veggies have to be bleached first. The result is spending most of your day planning and preparing meals, or visiting neighbors around mealtimes until one of them invites you to eat with them. The most serious problem arises on Sunday, when you're travelling home from a long weekend, tired, hungry, and nothing is open. Or worse, around 1 AM when you get the munchies and there's no taco bell or 24-hour Kroger.<br />
<br />
I mark a country's development index with the availability of late night snacks.<br />
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2. Water<br />
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Do I mean indoor plumbing? No, I mean water. As in reliable access to clean drinking water. Not having to carry water for miles (or yards, even) to your house in a bucket. Having running water to wash your hands with. Irrigation systems for agriculture. Slip n slides and swimming pools!<br />
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What happens when you don't have it? Well, you carry enough water to your house to drink and bathe and cook with every few days. You praise the heavens and set out every bucket you own whenever it rains. You boil your drinking water even when it's 100 degrees outside. You might occasionally get cholera or giardia. You might have to wash your clothes in the river during a drought. Bottom line: you appreciate it, and you don't waste it.<br />
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I can bathe in 3 liters of water. I can wash my hair and body and shave with less than the liquid content of two bottles of coke. I do it every day here. I think clean, drinkable running water is a huge health advantage, but I think always having access to it has led us to waste it. Every drop of water is precious when you have to carry 25 liters of it from a spicket 75 yards away, and even more precious when your water pumps are hooked up to the extremely spotty energy grid and you sometimes forego bathing for days until the energy comes back on because you have nowhere near the upper body strength to carry water uphill from the river 5 miles away. Which brings me to........<br />
<br />
1. Electricity...!<br />
<br />
Sofie's choice for every peace corps volunteer is choosing what sucks worse: living without running water or without electricity. Well, I don't have running water and I lived without electricity for 8 months, so I feel qualified to tell you that electricity is far more convenient than running water. It's one of those things upon which you don't realize how much you rely until you don't have it. Without electricity, a short list of things that become infinitely harder and/or impossible are: breakfast (I need coffee before I can light the coal stove, but I need to light the stove to make coffee!), pretty much all other meals, using the telephone, using the computer, sleeping (without a fan), keeping leftovers, purchasing meat, fish, or dairy, and any activities after 8 PM.<br />
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I will admit that having it has made me soft: I was sort of used to it when we didn't have it, but now, when it goes out, I become furious and would rather suffer in the dark than get out the cookstove and light the oil lamps. Just this morning I started WWIII with the neighbors because they forgot to pay the energy bill and I had to sleep without a fan. Being able to admit this makes me no more reliant on it, though. I know I can live without it, I just don't have to...and I don't want to.<br />
<br />
<br />
So there you have it. That's my list. If you were wondering how the other half (of the world) lives, now you know. It's important to say that it's not a bad life, just a different one. There's not a thing on this list that has made me unhappy or unhealthy by giving it up. In fact, if I were to analyze what happens to society in general when you strip away luxury and convenience, I would say they become more resourceful. Humans have an incredible knack for adapting...we've been doing it for a long time. Mozambicans amaze me with this quality and I have definitely noticed an increase in my own capacity to make things work with limited resources. So enjoy your luxuries, and be thankful for them, but know that you can live without them. They don't define our happiness or our ability to be productive and successful human beings.<br />
<br />Cara Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14627480604709365712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7609818094409064737.post-34202726622955932572015-01-27T04:35:00.000-08:002019-08-20T06:29:49.548-07:00Three Cheers For The New Year<div style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11.0pt; margin: 0in;">
Our long summer
break has ended and my second year of teaching is about to begin. I can't say
I'm not depressed about this vacation coming to an end but it has definitely
been a crazy adventure. I began my travel with a trip up to central Moz to
Chimoio in the province of Manica. Prior to November this trip wouldn't have
been allowed due to the ban on overland travel through the province of Sofala.
Since my arrival here there have been attacks on the main road there and the
only way to pass through was in a military caravan. Thankfully peace accords
have been signed by the leaders of the two major political entities (FRELIMO
and RENAMO) here and attacks have since ceased. This also meant that I got to
spend Christmas with volunteers and friends from the north and central parts of
the country whom I normally never see. The trip is about ten hours usually but
I made it in eight with a nice ride from a CDC worker and his friend who's
apparently built the road that goes through Panda. On the way we saw aftermath
from some of the attacks that happened, including a burned down trailer and bus
and a bridge destroyed by explosives. After arriving I spent some time at my
friend Thelma's house in Vanduzi, a mountain village about 40 minutes outside
of the city. Her site is home to the farms of a big fruit company here, so she
can get fruit like grapes, plums, peaches and apples (fruit that is normally
exported from South Africa and very expensive) for cheap. We headed to the city
for Christmas Eve and cooked a dinner of lasagna, mac and cheese, pigs in a
blanket, hummus, pita chips, glazed carrots, and plenty of dessert and sangria.
Volunteers came from all over the north and central regions to celebrate
together and we definitely had a great time.</div>
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After our
celebration Thelma, Matt (another PCV) and I began our long trek to Cape Town.
We had great travel luck and made it to Maputo, the capitol city, in one day.
The next morning we hopped on a bus that took us to Johannesburg where I met my
best friend Sarah who came all the way from Georgia to hang out in South Africa
with me. After a night in Joberg spent catching up we all boarded a plane for
Cape Town on New Year's Eve. I can honestly say this was the best NYE I've ever
had. We crashed a yacht party, watched fireworks for the first time in a year,
and watched the <span style="font-size: 14.6666660308838px;">s</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;">un come up. Cape Town I always a blast and we definitely took
advantage…plus when Sarah and I are together we always have a blast. It was the
highlight of my year getting to spend an entire week with her.</span></div>
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The rest of the week was spent mostly relaxing
on the beach, eating delicious food and generally enjoying the beautiful land
of beautiful people. We also played with spider monkeys, hiked to the Cape of
Good Hope where a baboon stole my Camelback, and I finally got to dive with
Great Whites! The shark diving was the most exciting thing I've ever done in my
whole life. We went out on this two deck fishing boat into one of the harshest
tides in the world. We hadn't been out there but five minutes when the first
person started to look a little green. Our guide was standing there saying it
could be hours before we see a shark, and before he finished his warning of the
possibility of not seeing a shark at all the skipper yells out "shark in
the water!" I looked over and saw a dorsal fin and then a set of jaws come
up for the tuna head bait in the water by the cage. I snapped a picture and ran
down the ladder to pull on my wetsuit so I could get into the cage first. I
made it in first along with three other people and we watched the shark thrash
and breach around us as they teased him with the bait up top. It was awesome.
We had about 15 sightings in all, the largest about 5 meters, and I got two
hours of cage time since about half of our group was hanging over the edge too
sick to even think about the Nat Geo grade fun the boat veterans were having on
the other side of the boat. Never have I loved my iron stomach more.</div>
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When we headed back
to Moz we had about ten days before our midservice conference, but Thelma and I
decided it made no sense to go back just to turn around and come back so we set
out on another adventure. We visited some friends in Gaza province and slowly
made our way up to Vilanculos where we spent my birthday on the beach. My
friend Lisa was house sitting in a house right on the beach there, and some
other PCV's came out to celebrate with us. It was the perfect end to our
vacation and from there we headed once again down to Maputo for our conference.
While the actual conference was tedious as conferences go, it was the first
time my group was all together since we left training for our respective sites.
Needless to say it was a great time. By the end though, even though I didn't
want to leave the air conditioning and delicious food, I was ready to get back
home to my own bed.</div>
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Yesterday I arrived
from a solid month of travel and adventures to find my house completely taken
back by nature. The spiders and roaches are much more abundant and much less
shy than before I left and there is a solid layer of dirt and sand covering every
surface. Our yard looked like a desert last month but there must have been an
obscene amount of rain because it now looks like a jungle of weeds and I need a
machete to Indiana Jones my way to the latrine. It's not all bad though because
in addition to the weeds our okra and pumpkin plants are crazy big….the pumpkin
vine even has two decently sized gourds growing on it! Must be that fertility
is in the air because I also returned to find Lua extremely pregnant. I expect
our house to be filled with puppies in about a month, which I can't decide if
I'm excited for or dreading. Vamos ver! One of the things I realized at the
conference is that I'm ready for whatever this next year throws at me. It's
been a long year filled with ups and downs, some very extreme, but it's gonna
be an adventure this time around. I'm already feeling like my time in paradise
is slipping away too quickly so I've got to take advantage of the rest!</div>
Cara Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14627480604709365712noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7609818094409064737.post-36622557526658688842014-11-08T07:41:00.000-08:002019-08-20T06:29:49.700-07:00Campaign-in-the-buttWith the presidential campaign wrapping up here, midterms happening Stateside and finally copping season 2 of House of Cards, I've had politics on the brain lately. I don't normally talk about politics, partially because I was taught that it is impolite dinner conversation and partially because it annoys me a lot. Nevertheless I thought it would be interesting to compare American politics with those here in Mozambique.<br />
<br />
Moz is a pretty new democracy coming from failed "one party democracy" (whatever that means) and socialist leaderships following liberation from colonialism. The political party system is massively complicated , facing corruption seeded since the war and influence from so many foreign interest agendas that no one knows who to trust anymore. What Mozambique has is the right to vote, a fact worth celebrating in itself. Despite being a democracy, though, the country is still riddled with gray areas, like the presidential portraits hung high in every school, shop and restaurant...Big Brother always watching.<br />
<br />
Here in the south the majority by far is FRELIMO--the liberating party from the war-- and mum's the word about the other two major parties. The south is more developed, being closer to the capitol, but things get more complicated the farther north you go. As you head up, paved roads turn to gravel and then dirt. The income gap gets wider and development in general decreases. These people have more cause for complaint against the current regime, and thus are more likely to lean towards the RENAMO or MDM parties. This is also where political tensions rise, as in the case of RENAMO attacking civilian and military vehicle convoys in the province of Sofala. Thankfully these have since stopped despite yet another FRELIMO win and peace accords between the party leaders have been signed.<br />
<br />
Elections were relatively peaceful here. They remind me of the elections for Miss Homecoming in college: full of gimmicks and based largely around how many campaign parties they can throw in the streets. Lots of our classes were cancelled here in Panda because professors were busy campaigning. All of our desks and some of our classrooms were commandeered for campaign use, so for two weeks we taught under the mango tree. These instances are common but mild. At a school further north a student was given the ultimatum of donning a party Tshirt or not being allowed to study that day. She refused and went home. Some of our friends and colleagues participate in the majority party campaign even though they disagree with their policies. They do this because if they come out openly as in favor of another party they will be fired or refused employment. Things like this make it hard for me to appreciate how far the country has come because there is still so far to go. I sit on no high horse though because American politics strikes a similar chord with party loyalty to a fault. People of both nationalities act as if their political affiliation is akin to a sports team. They sing and dance, wear the swag and trash talk like it's all a game. They blindly follow their team with die-hard loyalty, checking the vote-party box on ballots, making excuses for just about anything and always blaming the other team when things go wrong. These affiliations come from parents or friends or even habit.<br />
<br />
I'm a Republican. Being a Republican in the Peace Corps is like being a zebra in a pack of thoroughbred horses. As minority as I might be, though, I've had some productive and intelligent political conversations with my colleagues. We can speak objectively and open-mindedly...the only way to approach the issue of government in my opinion and I feel that my generation is doing better at that. Even so, I've gotten used to being a political outcast among my peers. Growing up in the South, it's easy to inherit the Republican fandom, and while I register on the same side I don't often agree. I'm a Republican because I believe in the free market, in conservative spending and in limited government. I'm a Christian, but I believe in the separation of church and state because I believe forcing adherence to any religion defeats its purpose entirely. Unfortunately this makes me the minority member of the GOP.<br />
<br />
I can deal with being in the minority or even being the only person with my beliefs. What really baffles me is the important research people forego before heading to the polls, as if they identify with nothing outside of "red" or "blue." They want Hillary because she's a woman, Barack because he's not white, or George because he's a Christian. Voting history and domestic policy loses over the hot-button issues during the debate and who shakes more hands on the trail; or in the case here who has more Tshirts and better music. In both cases we end up with the dangerously uninformed and dangerously loyal majority controlling the polls. The only way the system works is with checks and balances, and the only way to keep those in place is to keep an open mind and make an informed decision based on facts and not feelings.<br />
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<br />Cara Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14627480604709365712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7609818094409064737.post-16098576378502548182014-09-10T14:49:00.002-07:002019-08-20T06:29:49.344-07:00Secon...Wait For It...DaryI'd like to talk here about secondary projects. These are any and all community projects outside of teaching school. They are also essential to my experience here since I find the most fulfillment from them and they generate more of an impact than my super-exciting lectures to 8th graders about kidneys.<br />
<br />
I have a JUNTOS group (Jovens Unidos No Trabalho de Oportunidades e Successo), which is a group of 11th and 12th graders who express themselves through art with the underlying themes of HIV/AIDS prevention, the ramifications of alcohol and drug abuse, domestic violence, and discrimination, among other things. My group has been working on a newspaper themed around Malaria prevention and treatment and they have also recently been performing skits and monologues on drug abuse and gender discrimination during our school's morning announcements.<br />
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We have a collaborative effort with the Ministry of Education to hold a Science Fair to promote innovative and investigative research. We have two kids going to the Provincial Fair this weekend from Panda: one created a distilation apparatus using items from his kitchen and make his own orange oil with it, which can be used to repel insects, clean the house, and moisturize skin. Another student did an experiment comparing eucalyptus, cinnamon and lemongrass as natural insect repellents. These are two of my rock-star students and I'm so proud of their projects. I can't wait to see how they do at the fair!<br />
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I also work with the R.E.D.E.S. organization (Rapariga Em Desenvolvimento, Educacao e Saude), a network of girls' groups with the mission of creating opportunities for young women through health education, skill-building and income generation. The goal is to reduce their risk of contracting HIV/AIDS by empowering them to build better futures for themselves and not fall into the patterns that so many others have felt forced into by society and lack of appropriate skills. This year I am serving as the Assistant National Coordinator for the organization and I am very excited to see it continue to grow and thrive in Mozambique. We have been working hard to create awareness and continue to educate and support our groups accross the country. You can learn more about R.E.D.E.S. on our website <a href="http://www.theredesproject.org/">www.theredesproject.org</a> if you're interested. If you're not, I made the website so go look at it at least. :)<br />
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Our group here in Panda is led by my site mate and I. I'm in charge of leading the girls in dance practice once a week as well, whether it's just for fun or for an upcoming performance in the community. They have performed a few routines already and the community members absolutely love them and have started asking them for encores. It's common for people to put together dances for holidays so other groups also perform but my girls are always the best (biased as it is, I stand by this statement). They have also taught me a lot about traditional dance styles, which I love, but my favorite part has been watching them transformed from the shy girls they were into the enthusiastic and sassy bunch they are when they're dancing in the town square. It's really helped them build confidence and I absolutely love sharing my passion for dance with them.<br />
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I have some other projects in the works here, but I'll save those for another post when I can talk about the finished product. You never know when things will fall apart here despite your hard work. I know I've touched on the frustrations of my service before, but when working towards such a large and ambiguous goal as "development" it's so easy to get jaded. It's very hard to see progress or results and sometimes you don't ever get to see them--either because they happen after your time here or because they never happen at all. Failure and uselessness are the things I struggle with every single day.<br />
<br />
Things pile up here just like they do in the States, and I probably have the same stress load I did back home in one form or another. The difference here is there is no organization, logistics or leadership in place to help you accomplish goals.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">There's just you.</span><br />
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And there's no parameters in place to guide you like there are for normal jobs. There are only your ambitions. So if your ambitions include visiting the beach and fulfilling the minimum requirements of service, you're golden! Have yourself a two-year vacation. But oh, you came here to help people, develop a community, change the world? Phhhh...good luck. Your ideas are put at the mercy of your community. Rallying these people is like herding cats and infortunately even if the need and interest exist the will to work for it just isn't. It's not laziness: most people work multiple jobs, tend a fam that feeds their family and raise kids--there's no time for volunteer work or community development. You're the one expected to spearhead the thing and the only one left to do the legwork. So you get burnt out and yet another idea gets archived while you fall back into the routine of "getting through" your service instead of trying to do something with it.<br />
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This is the cycle I struggle with. It's ugly and it's depressing, but it's real. I am happy here and I take pride in the small victories--I know it's all about the individual impacts. The relationships I have here with my students and neighbors, my experiences and progress with my youth development groups, they alone make this all worth it. But third world development is messy and hard and I can't ignore the feelings of impotence that come along with it. It's a difficult job, being a PCV and not for the weak of stomache--figuratively and literally because you never know when diarrhea will come along to top off your worst (or best) day!Cara Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14627480604709365712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7609818094409064737.post-53834425459416119282014-09-10T14:13:00.000-07:002019-08-20T06:29:50.008-07:00Cape Town & Down<br />
Per usual I have been neglecting my blog and have yet to write about my adventures in South Africa. Better late than never, here are all the details plus some bonus general updates!<br />
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First of all,if anyone is looking for an international vacation destination, I'll save you some trouble and tell you that Cape Town is the jackpot. It's the most beautiful place I have ever seen and the most fun vacation I've ever been on!<br />
<br />
After a productive week in Mozambique's capitol learning about project development and funding (woo!), a fellow volunteer and I hopped on a bus to Johannesburg...or, rather, that was the plan. In actuality said travel buddy savvily forgot to bring along the one item necessary for international travel: his passport. Of course he discovers this as we are boarding the bus. So I decided to do the right thing and take my uncharictaristically prepared butt to a window seat and wish him good luck on the labrynth of flight changes ahead of him. Do unto others, right? In truthfulness I did feel bad about it but after almost a year of glorified camping you'd jump on the first bus to the first world too, believe me. So now I was left with the exciting endeavor of crossing an international border on foot, navigating planes, trains and automobiles for over ten hours and hunting down a hostel in a city I know nothing about alone. Don't worry mom, I come out unscathed.<br />
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In fact more than unscathed, I came back with a bag so full of groceries, goodies, clothes and jewlery that the flight attendant asked if I was an Amazing Race contestant. (Fun fact: I can never be an Amazing Race contestant because Peace Corps vols are considered to have too much of an advantage to be allowed on the show.) I of course used my "extra" day alone to shop...in actual stores...for new clothes that no one has previously worn. It was magical.<br />
<br />
Soon I met up with some other Peace Corps friends whom I never get to see since they work in northern Moz. Eventually we were all reunited the next day and back on schedule to explore the southern tip of Africa! We went on a winery tour and learned all the secrets of wine making and wine tasting (the latter is what I was mostly paying attention to), went on a hike to the Cape of Good Hope where along the way we saw whales breaching, otters, ostriches, seals, baboons, and a cariboo-type animal as big as a minivan. We visited Boulder Beach where penguins were all over the place, just swimming and chilling out in their natural penguin habitat. I succeeded in touching one but he wasn't very into it and tried to bite me in retaliation.<br />
<br />
In addition to all the touristy things we also had ourselves a food-cation: mexican food, real burgers, italian food, seafood...heck, I was even excited about the McDonald's. I also managed to try ostrich, impala, crocodile and warthog--all delicious by the way. Imagine ribs, but instead of normal rib meat they are surrounded by thick chunks of bacon. That's what warthog tastes like...my new favorite meat.<br />
<br />
So after five days of sightseeing, eating, drinking, shopping, and basking on beautiful beaches with beautiful people, I left the first world and returned home. Like I said, it was the most beutiful place I have ever been and I will definitely return soon, but it is nice to be back home. So now for the general life updates:<br />
<br />
We have a dog! Her name is Lua ("Moon" in portuguese) and she's 100% Mozambican mutt. She came from another volunteer so she's trained and very sweet. Favorite activities include playing soccer with the local kids for hours on end, and lounging on the couch hiding from the local kids as they try to coerce her back outside with cries of "Luuuuuuuaaaaaaa" at seemingly constant intervals throughout the day. Least favorite activities include baths and when her parents try to share the couch which is so clearly completely her lounging territory. She's a serious seat-stealer.<br />
<br />
That's probably enough for now, I was going to upload pictures but most of you come from Facebook and it's not like I have any new ones. When I do I will post them post haste!Cara Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14627480604709365712noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7609818094409064737.post-77464384220148509212014-06-22T08:57:00.001-07:002019-08-20T06:29:50.316-07:00The Trials and Tribulations of Teaching<p>"Boa tarde Senhora Professora." </p>
<p>Imagine this in the same tone you would use for an "Our Father" in mass. These words haunt my worst nightmares and yet sometimes still manage to make me smile. Especially when I mistakenly greet my students with "bom dia" since, despite my regularly scheduled classes beginning at a cool 1 PM, I've usually rolled out if bed pretty recently and still consider it the morning. Of course saying good morning after 11:59 is a major faux paux here in Moz and highly hilarious to 8th graders. </p>
<p>It occurred to me that I have yet to write anything about my actual job here, so here is a post solely about teaching...not one complaint about the lack of acceptable snack foods, cross my heart.</p>
<p>This year I am teaching 8th grade Biology and 11th and 12th grade TICs. TICs stands for Tecnologia de Informação e Comunicação, and basically consists of me teaching Microsoft Office and typing, because despite the confidence my school director and the ministry of education seem to have in me, I haven't the slightest grasp on the concepts of  algorithms and wireless technologies nor the ability to teach them to kids who are still trying to figure out which mouse button to use. In spite of my innovative teaching techniques (mostly yelling) they're still trying to right-click their way through life, and find how upset it makes me amusing.</p>
<p>The thing I like most about teaching TICs is that you can really see the progress the kids are making. Some of them had never used a computer before this class, and now the majority can at least navigate through the basic operations (given sufficient handicap time for the right-click thing).</p>
<p>Here in Panda we are very lucky to have a computer lab with 20 (12 or so functioning) computers, and a smartboard (also currently out of commission)! Seriously though, even with the continuous stream of issues with technology we are still lucky to have it at all. I know some volunteers who have to teach the class without even one computer to demonstrate.</p>
<p>Biology is an entirely different beast. I love my eighth graders and they can be better behaved than the upperclassmen. The problem with them is they've just come from primary school where they are molded into parrots and taught to write everything longhand. My greatest challenge has been to get them to think critically instead of just regurgitating information. No matter how many puzzles or experiments you give them, they always revert back to the term-and-definition approach to science they're used to.</p>
<p>I remember an episode of Letterman where he revealed some statistic about the intelligence of children in each nation. There was some standardized test with several parts and the only one the USA scored highest in was self-confidence. At the time I was ashamed that the only claim to fame our country's youth had was being #1 in arrogance. Now my experience here has put that data in a new light. </p>
<p>Americans aren't the smartest people on paper. Our self-confidence stems from our society and culture. We're taught from birth to be individual thinkers and are encouraged to be <i>the </i><i>best.</i> This social mindset breeds a highly competitive group of people. In our efforts to edge out the competition and stand out in a society of over-achievers we become inventive and innovative. We take pride in ourselves and or work. We're forced to think critically and to be resourceful. </p>
<p>Here in Mozambique I notice a lot of cookie-cutter mentality: let's do exactly what we've been told to do exactly the way we've been told to do it. There's little thinking outside the box and less questioning authority. This is probably to be expected of a country with recently broken ties to colonialism and socialism, respectively. That being said I grow prouder of my students every day in their efforts to live up to the expectations I have for them. I can only hope that they'll be able to pay it forward one day in whatever sector of the country they end up in. It's a slow and gruelling process and I do get frustrated, but fortunately for the kids I can never stay mad at them for long. I'll end this post on a high note with a prime example: something I call The Chicken Incident.</p>
<p>The Chicken Incident happened in one particularly frustrating biology class during which no one was coming forward with an explanation of the difference between voluntary and involuntary muscles despite my talking about it for the past  35 minutes. I launched into the fiftieth explanation with my teeth gritting.</p>
<p>"Voluntary muscles are used when we consciously decide to use them, like standing up, or running, or..."</p>
<p>Just then, a chicken struts shamelessly into my classroom. Partly because I hold a perpetual grudge against chickens for waking me before dawn every day and partly because I didn't like how cocky he seemed (pun intended), I decided not to ignore it.</p>
<p>"...Or to kick a chicken out of the classroom."</p>
<p>Maybe kicking the chicken wasn't the mature thing to do, but watching him catapulting towards the door, feathers flying like a cartoon sure was satisfying. Unfortunately in his panic he ran for refuge under the desk of 3 girls in the front row. This set in motion a frenzied attempt to extract him from the labyrinth of desks and successfully shoo him towards freedom. In the end he  ran smack into the wall beak-first before making it out the door, leaving behind him 54 flustered children and one very uncomposed and hysterical adult.</p>
<p>Never a dull moment, I'll tell ya.</p>
Cara Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14627480604709365712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7609818094409064737.post-6305456213744390562014-03-21T13:25:00.001-07:002019-08-20T06:29:50.111-07:00Wild Life<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve been waiting to write about this until I had a
satisfactory collection of pictures to truly depict the horrific—uh, I mean
incredibly diverse wildlife here in Mozambique. Alas, most harrowing encounters
take you by complete surprise at moments when you are sans camera (mostly at
night in the latrine) so you’ll have to use your imagination a bit. Let me
start off here by saying that the people in Texas have no idea what they’re
talking about. Granted, I’ve never been to Texas and everything may as well be
bigger there than the rest of the states but I’m just saying unless they have
ants as big as thumbs and beetles as big as fists Africa has all rights to the
claim that everything’s bigger here.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4_TQ7q-wgupVJfuNQ94dkcdruR5fmy4OBLB8KQA8yDdDNYWqoq7e0JNJBwGX8S5bjn06gLHL3dQGEQwMqu-EIk6Bz1G7I_W11lExNg9K2m48HTrcA7jZgi5lHX9WfwCvOJPW8t3B-xNIB/s1600/IMG_3283.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4_TQ7q-wgupVJfuNQ94dkcdruR5fmy4OBLB8KQA8yDdDNYWqoq7e0JNJBwGX8S5bjn06gLHL3dQGEQwMqu-EIk6Bz1G7I_W11lExNg9K2m48HTrcA7jZgi5lHX9WfwCvOJPW8t3B-xNIB/s1600/IMG_3283.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A prime example is Tyrannosaurus Rooster, (or T.R.) our surprisingly
cowardly friend who wakes us up each morning with his oversized rooster voice box.
The first day we arrived we saw him strutting across the yard and stood in awe
and shock until I came to my senses and snapped a picture of the beast. Since
then we have tried numerous times to get another shot of him with something to
scale but he’s so skittish we have yet to succeed. He even lets the
normal-sized roosters chase him around. You’ll just have to take my word for
the fact that his head comes up to my thigh.</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgZINTuFl240umXd2WW_33PmrcmDPWusCbI3b3yXmCkPHBMMNAfegqj1kjEK4EMpr0D3nIGiipBpsbpcWAl77bzZ_Yq9GWAb9ptc9wpKQtuOIKzgGqgmEDbAeILJVjBsz-7pgQ7c_a9FZ-/s1600/IMG_3586.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgZINTuFl240umXd2WW_33PmrcmDPWusCbI3b3yXmCkPHBMMNAfegqj1kjEK4EMpr0D3nIGiipBpsbpcWAl77bzZ_Yq9GWAb9ptc9wpKQtuOIKzgGqgmEDbAeILJVjBsz-7pgQ7c_a9FZ-/s1600/IMG_3586.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A really big millipede</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sometimes, when I’m napping in my hammock or when the rains
bring excellent porch-sitting weather I forget where I am because life seems so
normal and calm. But Africa is always quick to remind me that I’m here in her
untamed midst—whether it be bats in the roof, bugs in the flour, a dead mouse
in my closet or the straight-out-of-Revelation plagues that swarm the road at
night. My favorite was of what can only be described as
tarantula-cockroach-cricket hybrids. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s not all bad, though. In fact, some of it makes me never
want to leave. Where else can you get fresh pineapple for less than 25 cents?
Or huge mangoes, papaya, oranges, coconuts and bananas fresh off the trees in
your yard? In the afternoons we all sit and chat under the shade of a cashew
tree that’s bigger than my house and at night we sit under more stars than you
could imagine. If you only look up for 2 minutes you’ll see 5 or 6 shooting
stars on a clear night. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzeVXlaVUGQG6gJe9vCLix4dAkHcKQmWhUN5wgtKTU6LwTQIwDWcY9n-OGWduv0_J19ldmSvpZCxmZdKvy0zCIf6K6HDNNmLDsqynYyKlZB1t9SVqvtoCQvvMjjzVydhtj6rpQU-Zxi4ga/s1600/IMG_3554.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzeVXlaVUGQG6gJe9vCLix4dAkHcKQmWhUN5wgtKTU6LwTQIwDWcY9n-OGWduv0_J19ldmSvpZCxmZdKvy0zCIf6K6HDNNmLDsqynYyKlZB1t9SVqvtoCQvvMjjzVydhtj6rpQU-Zxi4ga/s1600/IMG_3554.JPG" height="320" width="258" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the aforementioned plagues</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s a constant battle between “how did I get myself into
this mess?” and “how did I ever get so lucky?” but at the end of each day as
I’m brushing my teeth under the Milky Way, clear as day from my back porch, the
latter wins out and I go to bed happy.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
…unless of course there’s a scorpion in my sheets.</div>
Cara Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14627480604709365712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7609818094409064737.post-13555393819144013422014-03-21T13:21:00.001-07:002019-08-20T06:29:49.266-07:00Como Se Chapa?<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzSuvyyY3DSK4zzzqcyqDaB_7esONG7ubT_KG0vx_OVG4ueGRFKeOokcDJx3RpQ-SmQeFsX5oN_xkTfI4UhBpAR8rfSarP1E6AKw_DV_9rYjSCbUkcarh-RfzscYxvTI1UdyIkfGC8kkVO/s1600/IMG_3308.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzSuvyyY3DSK4zzzqcyqDaB_7esONG7ubT_KG0vx_OVG4ueGRFKeOokcDJx3RpQ-SmQeFsX5oN_xkTfI4UhBpAR8rfSarP1E6AKw_DV_9rYjSCbUkcarh-RfzscYxvTI1UdyIkfGC8kkVO/s1600/IMG_3308.JPG" height="89" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Let me start this one off by saying
that when I get back to America I will never complain about anything
transportation-related again, because not even Atlanta rush hour on MARTA can
compare to the torture of the <b><i>chapa</i></b>.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A chapa
is, in most cases, the only way to get anywhere in Mozambique. The closed-back
variety is a large van on its last leg built in the 70s for a capacity of about
10 people, including the driver.(Picture the vans A/C repairmen drive, or maybe
the kind you’d call your kids inside when you see it driving past your house.)
the chapa driver is only out to make the most bang for his buck and since each
person is more money (yes, you have to pay for this torture) he’s gonna pack as
many people as physically possible. So, these ever-resourceful businessmen
often add an extra “row” in the trunk space—essentially an old car backseat
stuffed back there and maybe secured with some sort of rope if you’re lucky.
And of course the fold-down seats facing the front row where you can enjoy someone’s
knees in your crotch for a few hours. If you’re really lucky(or pretty) you
might get one of the 3 coveted spaces in the passenger seat up front with the
driver where you can be the first to see your imminent death hurtling towards you,
probably with the added bonus of the gear shift being jammed into your thigh
every few seconds. Either way, you better believe there will be 20 or more p3eople
crammed into this vehicle, most of whom are not wearing deodorant so
commandeering a window seat is priority number 1. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The
other type of chapa is the open back, which is what we mainly have here in
Panda. This is a small pick-up truck—more than likely an Izuzu from the 80s. The
real treat is getting to ride in the passenger seat, which you can sometimes
pull off by being female, white, and showing a little knee if you’re desperate.
if you can’t get this coveted spot, you’ve got to pile into the back with the
others. The one good thing about the open-backs is the breeze that’s non-existent
in the oven-like vans. You’d think that in 2/3 of the space of the van they’d
fit 2/3 of the amount of people…but you’d be very wrong. I’ve seen 30 people in
the back (and on the roof, and hanging off the side) of one of these. Your
options are essentially to sit on the edge of the bed or stand in the middle.
At first sitting seems like a good idea since you can hold on to something, but
after a few hours of sitting on a metal rail with the weight of grown men and
women seemingly trying to push you into the road, the threat of falling out
becomes too much for me, as well as the fact that my butt falls asleep within
about 30 minutes.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
But
let’s not forget that people bring stuff, and here in Africa that stuff is a
lot more of a logistical nightmare. I would say they travel with everything but
the kitchen sink, but here the kitchen sink is a large plastic bucket and they
definitely travel with those, too. So, with every inch of space filled where
does all this stuff go? To that I just have to laugh and tell you that a chapa
is never, ever truly full. There’s always room for the 50 kilo sack of rice and
the plastic bag full of chickens. Where? On your lap, under the seat, in your
leg space, on the roof or hanging out the window. I think my favorite sight in
Mozambique is a goat standing on the roof of a chapa going about 70 down the
highway. Recently, I was walled into a 2x2 space in the back of an open-back by
about 50 boxes of toothpaste. At first I was annoyed and felt trapped until I
realized that because of the boxes it was impossible for any other person to
encroach on my space. With no people leaning on me or trying to push me out, I
just hooked my arm through the rope that was securing the boxes and took a nice
standing nap. It’s important to enjoy the little victories when dealing with
chapas. Really these happen every time you are in one that makes it where
you’re going without breaking down or blowing a tire, or if one of these things
happens in the shade rather than the sun.</div>
Cara Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14627480604709365712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7609818094409064737.post-90165098239144963602014-01-04T05:02:00.001-08:002019-08-20T06:29:50.472-07:00Happy HeartSunday was my first time in an African Assembly of God church. My friend Momati told me that service started at 9:30 AM, so naturally he arrived at my house around 10. We walked to the church only to find we were part of the early crowd and the <i>caniço </i>(cane) building was being used for children's church, so I waited outside under a tree with some other women and exhausted my Xitswa (the local dialect) vocabulary in record time.<br />
<br />
Around 10:45 some important-looking people in suits showed up and we all filed into the church. There were plastic chairs set up behind the altar for the people in suits and grass mats and wooden bench pews for the rest of us. The service started off with Xitswa hymns sung from memory by most people, and although I was graciously offered a hymnal the language is as hard to read as it is to speak. Whoever created it didn't understand the importance of vowels. Part of the problem is that there are many sounds in Xitswa that I wouldn't have the first idea how to spell, like a low whistle or a grunt for instance.<br />
<br />
After the hymns it was time to "bring your thanks to God" and about 10 people stood and announced things God had done for them that they were grateful for that week. After the thanks was a time for anyone who had prepared a song or dance of praise to present. There was a solo song and four dance groups, one of which was the most precious group of kids I have ever seen. They performed one song with a step dance and they stomped so much they kicked up enough dust to fill the building.<br />
<br />
After the singing and dancing the room erupted into a loud combination of everyone talking--shouting, really--at once. At first I thought maybe they were speaking in tongues but the woman next to me casually that this was the time to pray aloud. So after everyone's mixture of shouted prayers in Portuguese and Xitswa the sermon began. It was difficult to determine which one of the men in suits was actually the pastor because they all took turns contributing what were probably words of wisdom but I can't be too sure because 90% of them went over my head. The text was from 1 Kings when Joab is ordered to be killed by King Solomon. What I got from my occasionally whispered Portuguese translation was that even if you're sick or dying you should come to church because it's better to die in the presence of the Lord than at home. Fair enough.<br />
<br />
Then of course I was asked to stand and tell the congregation my name and where I'm from and what I'm doing here. And my embarrassment was complete when I acknowledged that my name is indeed "Face" and I received not only the laughter I have come to expect but also a round of applause. Then we all got on our knees for "individual prayer" which caused the room to erupt again because there is no quiet prayer in Africa. Then more singing and dancing, an altar call to lay hands on the sick, and the offering, which was sort of a line dance...with singing of course.<br />
<br />
The last part of the service was a very large woman presenting the pastors with their holiday gifts from the congregation (capulana, bottles of soda) and then throwing hard candies into the congregation as a New Year treat.<br />
<br />
All in all I had a great, albeit overwhelming, time at church. I walked away with new friends, a slightly increased Xitswa vocabulary and some hard candy! Not to mention my heart was filled at the sight of all those people praising God for a solid 3 hours. It was definitely different and more in-your-face than the organized, highly scheduled church services back home but you can't help but be impressed with people who will willingly sing and dance in near-hundred-degree heat for that long. It's the happiest bunch of church-goers I've ever seen.<br />
<br />
During one of the last hymns that was sung my friend turned to me and said "This song is a good one. It says, 'I have nothing, but I still have happiness in my heart.'" And I think that sums up the spirit of a Mozambican church service pretty nicely.Cara Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14627480604709365712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7609818094409064737.post-63712207453699045802013-12-11T02:48:00.002-08:002019-08-20T06:29:50.161-07:00The Mulungu ZooHello from Panda!<br />
<br />
After an exciting last week in Namaacha with plenty of parties and 4 glorious days in the capitol for the swearing in ceremony and supervisor's conference (complete with <b>HOT SHOWERS</b>), I am now an official bona-fide, sworn-in Peace Corps Volunteer!<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTg4JXoccLIXYttsh33NvRNeYdQHbiSs3cL993XBdMmDFySbQTh7bhVY6X85_BhNrAxNuh1UMxZTV1SgndptCRd3m2iSLPlIsH61fHutHIxD8DleP67Y1dFZ6sTeBEPPYWRXj4tzr7CiBB/s1600/IMG_3290.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTg4JXoccLIXYttsh33NvRNeYdQHbiSs3cL993XBdMmDFySbQTh7bhVY6X85_BhNrAxNuh1UMxZTV1SgndptCRd3m2iSLPlIsH61fHutHIxD8DleP67Y1dFZ6sTeBEPPYWRXj4tzr7CiBB/s320/IMG_3290.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our beloved festive bull skull!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We arrived at site on Friday afternoon after a 6 hour chapa ride. Panda is a super small, sandy village about two hours away from the coast. It reminds me of a little beach town...without the beach. Our house is a 3-room concrete house with attached bath house and storage area. We have a latrine which the previous volunteer took upon himself to splatter-paint pastel shades of the rainbow. Don't ask me why but we do have the most festive latrine in Mozambique...and heck probably all of Africa.<br />
<br />
The school where we work is pretty much in our front yard. I'm already having visions of rolling out of bed 5 minutes before class starts. Our house is one in a row of other concrete and reed houses occupied by other professors and their families. The upside to this is that we have a very safe environment and people are always at our house, from the neighbor's girls playing jenga in our living room and swinging on our porch to our colleagues coming over to make sure we have everything we need. The downside to this is, well, people are <u>always</u> at our house.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYgwkF3sHvzXhZ98btL_GF7-Andq2ObYYW70uCZZZXkpZnqEnB61tlrDDwwPDuSNd1eTaszHqLE5-3-kdAuYcvwL4xCDKCBuMabKC0uO1OiXvgf3sGAP52NOoqUTBf5pqPTRDUjqWJHOY_/s1600/IMG_3291.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYgwkF3sHvzXhZ98btL_GF7-Andq2ObYYW70uCZZZXkpZnqEnB61tlrDDwwPDuSNd1eTaszHqLE5-3-kdAuYcvwL4xCDKCBuMabKC0uO1OiXvgf3sGAP52NOoqUTBf5pqPTRDUjqWJHOY_/s320/IMG_3291.JPG" width="270" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our front porch, complete with swing and pull up bar!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This morning, for example, I was awoken by one of the little girls peering into my bedroom window and yelling my name. That horror-film-worthy alarm brought me as close as I've come to wetting the bed in 15 years. Later today as I started on the hopelessly large pile of laundry I've been putting off, two of our fellow teachers walked over. One, whom I am afraid of because she speaks so bluntly and has a bad case of angry-face, exclaimed in surprise that I was washing my clothes.<br />
-Yes, I am washing my clothes.<br />
-You know how to wash clothes?!?<br />
-Of course.<br />
-You know how to wash clothes like this?? (makes scrubbing motions with her hands)<br />
-Yep.<br />
-Huh! Well where are you going to dry them? (now she's quizzing me)<br />
-...On the clothes line out back.<br />
-Huh.<br />
Then they proceeded to watch me wash clothes for five minutes in silence before they left. Ten minutes later I had the same experience with one of my students.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbGlsdBqN5lNMFODAKoabJK1GmbHPkxeBPyu43Ca8n2YDXlDyFa6gp3SLT0jkroZ3_pJkRt7P_iKifRy97Pe2uNZrFaQklKIqvCdxG5Eeix_1TKi2Nz0oItrwyN0XDTknmUsTP_MPskUPp/s1600/IMG_3284.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbGlsdBqN5lNMFODAKoabJK1GmbHPkxeBPyu43Ca8n2YDXlDyFa6gp3SLT0jkroZ3_pJkRt7P_iKifRy97Pe2uNZrFaQklKIqvCdxG5Eeix_1TKi2Nz0oItrwyN0XDTknmUsTP_MPskUPp/s320/IMG_3284.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My room</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3lSfi7lwtPilqi_jmvUQJPI9W4E0TKCpHrgpXcHZIotMLklINMpenU8j_59dXl3iCIXovc3BfHJ7RgZj8tWfU40YkxzDxnxmJ-6WN6NXKOGs8LJ18CbwAW95Bwpomags6vx5dhpuG9JFe/s1600/IMG_3285.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3lSfi7lwtPilqi_jmvUQJPI9W4E0TKCpHrgpXcHZIotMLklINMpenU8j_59dXl3iCIXovc3BfHJ7RgZj8tWfU40YkxzDxnxmJ-6WN6NXKOGs8LJ18CbwAW95Bwpomags6vx5dhpuG9JFe/s320/IMG_3285.JPG" width="320" /></a>We're the Mulungu Zoo! Mulungus (which is Xitswa for white people) are inherently fascinating to Mozambicans and here we are doing all these fascinating things like laundry and cooking and reading...who could blame them for stopping by to sneak a peek? Part of this is also that routine daily tasks that we consider errands are much more social activities here. In the States we try to get things like shopping, cooking and cleaning done as quickly and efficiently as possible to make more time for the fun activities with our friends like eating, going to the movies, etc. But here, the chores and errands <i>are </i>the social activities. A trip to the market could take over an hour even though it's only a five minute walk because you have to take time to stop and talk to everyone there.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicZf3jUnqRzNnV2XFEV-c1qKXxBCLEK14eg3ix4QEJFkf454jbyJfoCaA3JNggQFKAmsp7T4hyphenhyphenFYD_nZWNO4fWs6jneZ7RCvcYxW5YcMogVDQMfqXnUW_ChhxDelSvPl9invgFXWXoI1T8/s1600/IMG_3286.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicZf3jUnqRzNnV2XFEV-c1qKXxBCLEK14eg3ix4QEJFkf454jbyJfoCaA3JNggQFKAmsp7T4hyphenhyphenFYD_nZWNO4fWs6jneZ7RCvcYxW5YcMogVDQMfqXnUW_ChhxDelSvPl9invgFXWXoI1T8/s320/IMG_3286.JPG" width="240" /></a>Yesterday I was feeling pretty sick--just tired and achy and all I wanted was to lay down. The previous day we had completed our obligatory introductions to our colleagues and community leaders, so I was surprised when the school director summoned us over to the school that morning. My roommate Emma and I walked over expecting to discuss class schedules or more awkward introductions but Senhor Director simply announced that the daily snack was ready. I tried my best to hide the you-seriously-just-got-me-out-of-bed-to-eat-an-egg-sandwich expression but my face has a knack for displaying my true feelings. My escape efforts after snacktime were also futile. The aforementioned colleague who strikes fear in my heart with her stink-eye caught whiff of our idea to return home. "No," she said before we even got up. "Sit and converse with us." Well, how could I argue with a direct order from Maleficent herself? So we sat there learning Xitswa words, teaching English words, and of course explaining why we don't have husbands or boyfriends or both.<br />
<br />
All humor aside, I really do love Panda and our community here. Everyone is so unbelievably friendly and eager to help in any way they possibly can. These people would probably give me the shirt off their back and they've only just met me. That's the kind of community I was hoping for and I am so grateful to be here. I can't wait to spend the next two years in my new home!<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinoLc1gpl2k4arwFTWMasVA47NtMzGoOiX5nEsfnw5kaQ6SpbEIEbCW09CvnwuJAwbEvGK2S7Kt2Gpu_ajUXUbxAoDI5GqU21N78fxM3yyj6yufB7o-fe7PySKEqThGaVGRek4cR7E8fIA/s1600/IMG_3287.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinoLc1gpl2k4arwFTWMasVA47NtMzGoOiX5nEsfnw5kaQ6SpbEIEbCW09CvnwuJAwbEvGK2S7Kt2Gpu_ajUXUbxAoDI5GqU21N78fxM3yyj6yufB7o-fe7PySKEqThGaVGRek4cR7E8fIA/s320/IMG_3287.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kitchen</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7IcZ4nMOiOVa_SX9IGN45_sKsKht4WcFXyeIAy4K_eyxFWlK2y1E_6mGlaR-b8Gf44MlLgfRSjNrPtfO6_8lrr4PUYsjC4KAotrjMSKVKjOu7lAHr3jL3dJQcE5g9C6JMfJHN6SbIZ0U-/s1600/IMG_3288.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7IcZ4nMOiOVa_SX9IGN45_sKsKht4WcFXyeIAy4K_eyxFWlK2y1E_6mGlaR-b8Gf44MlLgfRSjNrPtfO6_8lrr4PUYsjC4KAotrjMSKVKjOu7lAHr3jL3dJQcE5g9C6JMfJHN6SbIZ0U-/s320/IMG_3288.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Living Room</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Cara Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14627480604709365712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7609818094409064737.post-36887288351835294962013-11-20T03:45:00.000-08:002019-08-20T06:29:49.751-07:00House-Arrested Development<div class="MsoNormal">
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Provincial elections are today and as a result all of us are
on lockdown for the day. So since I’m stuck in the house faced with laundry and
lesson planning I thought it would be a great time to write about site
placements.</div>
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Last week was the most stressed I’ve been since I arrived in
Africa. After arriving from site visits we all had a long weekend of relaxation
to look forward to with ample time to wash the pile of dirty clothes we accrued
over the week--<b>OH WAIT</b>, I was thinking about an alternate universe where I have
enough hours in the day. Let me start over. </div>
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After arriving from site visits we all had a long day of
classes and then an entire weekend of permagardening to look forward to. What’s
permagardening you ask? Well, I couldn’t tell you because I was so tired and
hot and over it Saturday morning that I hardly paid attention. It has something
to do with sustainable vegetable gardening and composting. Probably useful
information but half of my group spent our time deliriously doing ridiculous activities
like fruit ninja with real fruit and machetes, mango baseball and chasing
chickens. Let me just say that real life fruit ninja is much more fun than the
app.</div>
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The following week we were all supposed to be planning to
teach model school (basically kids are bribed with food to come be our guinea
pig students for a week), but with site announcements on Thursday everyone was
on edge. My week went about like this:</div>
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<br /></div>
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<i> Lesson plan. Panic.
Lesson Planning and panicking. Try to think of ways to make genetics fun.
Realize that’s pretty much impossible. More panicking. Get sick. Puke for 8
hours on the hour. Spend the day dying in bed in a concrete house that’s kin to
an oven in the African sun. Recover and lesson plan some more…also more
panicking because site announcements are tomorrow!</i></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
When the day finally came to find out where I’ll be living
for the next two years, we had our long day of core classes and they of course
waited til the very end to hand out our site packets. We all lined up on the
sidelines of the basketball courts outside of the school. On the court was
drawn in chalk a giant map of Mozambique and all of its provinces. They handed
us our envelopes and we all stood there like kids on Christmas Eve waiting to
open them. </div>
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And the verdict is………</div>
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<b><u><span style="font-size: large;">PANDA! </span></u></b>In Inhambane province in the south, which is
affectionately dubbed the Peace Corps Playground because of how close all of
the volunteers are placed together. I am actually really close to a lot of
great people, and I have a roommate and a site mate so I’m very happy with my
assignment. I am teaching technology, which is not what I expected to be
teaching or feel prepared for at all but in the Peace Corps there’s no way to
know what you’re actually going to be doing until you’ve already done it. Also,
I had a long conversation with one of the volunteers I’m replacing and he says
that technology teachers are seriously needed in Panda so I’m happy for that. Also
they apparently have a state of the art computer lab that was recently donated
to the school so I’ll actually have computers to teach with, which is a serious
advantage and a rarity here.</div>
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Some other things about my site: it’s kind of in the matu
(bush, middle of nowhere, etc.) but only an hour and a half away from 2
beautiful beaches and an hour away from a large city where I can get things I
can’t find in the markets. My house has electricity and is in a neighborhood
with all of the other teachers at the secondary school. We have a latrine and a
yard and I fully intend on having a dog, a chicken coop and a pig that I will
fatten up over the next two years and have as barbeque at the end of my
service. It’s also apparently very safe and the community is very welcoming.
Overall I can’t wait to be there and settle in to my new home!</div>
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That’s all for now, I’m going to continue demolishing a bag
of Jelly Belly’s that my family sent to me in a care package with two of my
friends.</div>
Cara Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14627480604709365712noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7609818094409064737.post-51577480731366652822013-11-18T03:29:00.002-08:002019-08-20T06:29:49.904-07:00Two Words: Chicken Burrito<br />
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Site visits were this week, and it has been a cluster of
events and emotions. Everyone going north of central Moz got to stay overnight
in Maputo in a hotel that would probably have not met my standards a month and
a half ago but now seems luxurious…mainly because of the HOT SHOWERS! Staying
in the capitol has other perks too, like pizza and burritos and gelato and crunchy
peanut butter and cheese and wine and the best coffee milkshake you can find
anywhere! So yeah the perks mostly revolve around food and I think I ate more
on Saturday than I ever have in my life. It was beautiful.</div>
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What was not beautiful was me on Sunday morning because we
had to wake up at 4 AM to catch a ride to the airport and board a plane (if you
can really call it that) to Chimoio. My host volunteer Jamie met us there in
the PC office and after running some errands in the city we headed to Sussundenga.
Both of these cities are in the province of Manica in the center of the
country. It’s about an hour chapa ride from Chimoio to the lovely mountain town
of Sussundenga. About halfway through the chapa passes through the market of a
smaller village and you can buy produce from the vendors as they come up to the
windows and try to entice you with their enticing selection of onions and
tomatoes.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx9_DXmqQXw72k5iMWAmkBzWc6z8RiVYqAIqR7Q6Zi8-R9fAXXHUgYg4TQsrTeH_l8M83VL8GzbUi3vKMEdcbMRAFjRMEZ8RNlD3pGjk4-PjbJP2yBi0msMfrPxg8EWekWKX8oIBGs6pva/s1600/IMG_3070.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx9_DXmqQXw72k5iMWAmkBzWc6z8RiVYqAIqR7Q6Zi8-R9fAXXHUgYg4TQsrTeH_l8M83VL8GzbUi3vKMEdcbMRAFjRMEZ8RNlD3pGjk4-PjbJP2yBi0msMfrPxg8EWekWKX8oIBGs6pva/s320/IMG_3070.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Poor skinny dogs of Sussundenga.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxLT1th_jqZ5Z4tTlC63HfVLY2FTEGpmFcKHOHe9FsfnLYAyib1jMgGwccw_LAmZlkYjRoBQVlkBuepX2_fHxySXmYOcpdl2ERlGSZGfkETB-xBUoLL4b7JHnH6VOZA9n4_aXYpd7IFXCl/s1600/IMG_3073.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxLT1th_jqZ5Z4tTlC63HfVLY2FTEGpmFcKHOHe9FsfnLYAyib1jMgGwccw_LAmZlkYjRoBQVlkBuepX2_fHxySXmYOcpdl2ERlGSZGfkETB-xBUoLL4b7JHnH6VOZA9n4_aXYpd7IFXCl/s320/IMG_3073.JPG" width="227" /></a>The first full day in Sussundenga was nice because I
basically got to see all of it...and because we had some delicious french toast. We walked about 6 and a half miles going around
the lower half of the village and hiked a bit up into the mountains to look at
the amazing view. We passed through all of the local mercados (markets) and at
one of the clothing stands I found an ADII shirt from Baylor. Basically Africa
is the end of the line for your clothes that got donated but never sold in
America. They call them calamidades (literally calamities) and they’re pretty
awesome sometimes.</div>
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The next day we walked around the top half of the village
and I got to see the new secondary school and another gorgeous view. We ended
the day eating dinner with a local family there. We ate rice and beans and I
must say that you haven’t had rice and beans until you’ve had it here.
Mozambicans definitely know how to cook beans.</div>
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I left the next day for Chimoio to overnight there with the
other volunteers since we had such an early flight the next day. We spent the
day in the city which was surprisingly nice. I don’t really like big cities,
even in the States so I couldn’t see myself living in one here but after
visiting Chimoio I really don’t have a preference one way or another. Despite
it being urban we met a lot of nice people and the volunteers placed there seem
to love it and feel at home. I also felt a lot safer than I expected to feel in
the city. Also it helps to have pizza and soft serve ice cream available on
command. Overall there were things I liked and things I didn’t about both
sites, and I still have no strong convictions on the type of site I should
request. Honestly I’m just ready to find out where my new home will be for the
next two years!</div>
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Mountains in Sussundenga</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
On the way back from our lovely site experience we had a
handful of headaches at the airport and then in Maputo at the Peace Corps
office and basically had to hike across Maputo luggage in tow in order to catch
a chapa back to Namaacha today when we were expecting to have another night at
the hotel. But that’s Peace Corps for ya so whatever. As soon as I arrived back
home I was tackled by my niece and nephew (who I recently learned are really my
half brother and sister) and my sister Lidia and then Mãe. As soon as I saw
them I was overwhelmed with how much I had missed them. I am so happy to be
here, home with my family. And they made me my favorite dinner, Matapa! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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So now I’m exhausted and we of course have a long day of
core classes tomorrow, which I of course will not be paying attention to since
we find out where our sites are this week.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Cara Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14627480604709365712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7609818094409064737.post-25056860450681114722013-10-24T13:15:00.001-07:002019-08-20T06:29:49.395-07:00Why I Joined The Peace Corps<div class="MsoNormal">
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I want to take some time here to talk about the idea of
spreading information, education, training, love or whatever via
person-to-person interaction. We call it a grassroots effort, and it is
probably the most frustrating and difficult thing about being a Peace Corps
volunteer.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My generation is one that was taught things like “you can do
anything you set your mind to” and “impossible is a four letter word.” We are a
generation of super competitive overachievers because we have big dreams and we
crave fame, power, and notoriety. In my case, I had such a desire to change the
world and I really believed that I could until adulthood and the real world set
in. All of a sudden there were bills and student loan payments and an empty job
market to worry about. So, I joined the Peace Corps…not to run away from
adulthood but because I believed it was the best possible way for me to make a
career out of meeting the needs of others without ending up homeless. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, though, it’s that you can’t
come into this job thinking you can change the world, this country, or even the
skewed notion that a girl’s education is less valuable than a boy’s. You don’t
necessarily need to lower your expectations, but you do need to adjust them.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I think we all came here thinking we would find creative
ways of making these kids love science. We’d jump in feet first into teaching a
subject we love to these people and our innovative American attitudes would
raise test scores, attendance and student participation across the board! That’s
the idea, anyway, but it’s not the reality. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Each week we get a pair of
volunteers who are one or two years into their service. They help facilitate
our lessons and give advice on what to expect from our sites, schools, etc. The
reality they have delivered to us is that we will have much larger classes than
anticipated (a class of 60-80 kids is normal), cheating is rampant, attendance
is scarce, the grading system is often corrupt and biased, students rarely are
equipped with textbooks and the textbooks themselves contain errors. So essentially I am now prepared to have a class underwhelmed
with resources and overflowing with students, most of which don’t belong in the
grade level or maybe don’t even speak Portuguese. I am also prepared to feel
completely useless, because I think everyone feels this way when faced with
such an overwhelming obstacle.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That brings me to the question: why am I still here? I’m
still here because I believe in what I’m doing, even if I’m not always sure I
know what I’m doing. I believe in the overall mission of the Peace Corps and
that one day the education sector won’t be needed in this country, and I will
be able to say I was a part of that. I believe I am here for a reason, even if
I don’t yet know what it is and even if it’s something as simple as being a
friend to one person here. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you look at the HIV/AIDS epidemic, you’ll see a massive
problem that seems too big and too overwhelming to overcome. When you think
about this disease in America, you think of the billions of dollars spent on
research and ad campaigns. I don’t think it would surprise anyone to learn it’s
much different here. In lieu of the ad campaigns there are red ribbons painted
and drawn on the street corners and bus stops. This weekend my mãe’s cousin cut
her own throat because she found out she was HIV positive. She had two
children. It’s devastating, and when you try to think of a solution it seems
like too big of a problem and at first you come up empty. You can encourage
your friends and neighbors to get tested. You can offer counseling or just lend
an ear. You can teach sex-ed to a group of teenagers. You can’t solve the
problem immediately, but the problem wasn’t created immediately either. It can
be helped the same way it was spread: person to person. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The other day in one of our Tech sessions we talked about
the traditional gender roles in the culture here, and one of our professors
mentioned that people think he’s crazy when he goes grocery shopping for his
wife or does housework because he’s a male and that’s not his role in society. He
said they are even offended at his allowing his wife to continue her education.
He believes in what he is doing for his wife and his family, though, and his
view on how to combat this resistance is just to rationalize it with his
friends. He said that once he explains that he is doing this for the benefit of
his family and for his children a lot of times they will see his side of the
equation. He may not change their viewpoint on gender roles in society, but if
one person sees the benefit of gender equality and passes that on to another
person you have started a chain of ideas. That’s what grassroots is, and I
wholeheartedly believe in its effectiveness.</div>
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<br /></div>
Cara Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14627480604709365712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7609818094409064737.post-2723278099519517382013-10-18T08:08:00.003-07:002019-08-20T06:29:49.446-07:00Nao Me Tocas<div class="MsoNormal">
So a couple of posts ago I mentioned how surprised I was
that Africa wasn’t as different as I expected it to be. There are a lot of
differences, though and I think the best way to showcase them is to outline how
my mãe and her friends came to the assumption that I am pregnant.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The events happened as follows:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
1.<span style="font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]-->My family and my neighbor Matt’s family have
been pining for us to get married and have children since we arrived, as they
tell me almost daily. Any time we are walking together/hanging out is a big
deal and basically considered a date according to Mozambican standards. Also,
we both have teenage sisters who egg on the situation.</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->2.<span style="font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]-->Having switched Malaria prophy to Doxycycline
recently, I had a bout of losing my breakfast Tuesday morning, which Mãe
witnessed and shared with her friends. These friends just so happen to be the
host mothers of the PCTs in my language group and so this info was shared at
our cooking exchange the same day.</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->3.<span style="font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]-->Somewhere between explaining how to cook buffalo
chicken and talk about how much I love Mozambican babies I accidentally agreed
with something they said in Changana that caused the whole group of mães to
laugh aloud for about five minutes. I tried to back track and say I didn’t
understand but they just continued laughing at me.</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And BOOM. I’m pregnant according to the Namaacha rumor mill,
and now Mark’s mãe won’t stop touching my boobs every time she sees me. She
doesn’t even make an attempt at being subtle, either because it’s totally socially
acceptable. Along that note, privacy and personal space just aren’t the same
here. People will seriously violate the typical American “bubble” and not even
consider the fact that it would bother you. Everyone wants to touch your skin
and hair because it’s different, and they won’t hesitate to pinch you and tell
you to eat more. Sometimes this is annoying, like when my neighbor Hans (I call
him this because of his handsy-ness and because I can never remember his real
name) stays only two inches from my face when talking about music or proposing
marriage, and gets increasingly closer as I try to subtly move away. Sometimes,
though, it makes my day, like when I’m walking to class and a group of kids
just bombard me with hugs or walk with me holding my hand and asking to try on
my glasses.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yesterday on our walk to class, Matt and I came upon a group
of three little boys on their way to school. The first one said “Bom dia” to me
and touched my butt, which I figured was an accident. The second one did the
same, which made me think it was not accidental and when the third one reached
his hand out I swatted him and said “Não não! Indiciplinados!” And they all
laughed and ran away. The whole thing just made me think of the “he touched the
butt” scene from Finding Nemo, except I am the large foreign thing everyone
wants to touch.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So there is definitely a different culture here, and with
that comes the awkward and often confusing integration period. One thing that I
love though is that once a week we have Ngoma Time during which we share a
little bit of American culture and get to experience some Moz culture as well. Yesterday
we saw an awesome singing/step dance group perform, and one of our groups sang
Sweet Caroline and Wagon Wheel which gave me flashbacks to Auburn (who broke
the AP Top 25…what up!) and was a nice taste of home. My group explained the rules
of Red Rover and then we all played a massive game of it in the school yard. It
was so much fun, mostly because of how into it the Mozambicans got.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today is the end of Week 3, and while it was off to a rough
start it has ended sweetly. Our visiting volunteers Yuri and Anneke have had
some really insightful information and tips for teaching large classrooms,
which is much needed considering we will very likely have classes of 80+
students. My language group has a new professor due to complications with our
old one and there is such a stark difference in our Portuguese class now. I
feel like I’m learning so much more now even after just one class and I’m no
longer dreading language hours. The only downside of today is that I REALLY
needed to do laundry but it’s cold and rainy…not very conducive to line drying.
I have enough clean underwear to last a couple more days though so here’s
hoping we see some sunshine soon!</div>
Cara Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14627480604709365712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7609818094409064737.post-53234582929583202162013-10-15T10:59:00.001-07:002019-08-20T06:29:49.957-07:00Chega, Mozambique<div class="MsoNormal">
The first word they made sure to teach us in Portuguese was “chega.”
It roughly translates to “I am full” or “I’ve had enough.” They make sure we
know this because Mozambicans eat a TON of food. These people can take out a
pot of rice big enough to feed a village in one sitting, and they expect you to
eat this much as well.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Week Three is apparently hell week according to previous
volunteers and I can’t help but agree. Maybe the new wore off or maybe the
reality of how long we are staying here set in but yesterday everyone was one
more handful of xima away from a trip to the nut house. I know I had had enough…enough
class, enough homework, enough of every kid in the village shouting Ola 50,678 times on my morning walk, enough of no one understanding me when I speak…CHEGA!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Xima, by the way, is a sticky mix of corn flour and water
that is a staple here in Moz. Also, it tastes like nothing. Grits and cream of
wheat have 10 times more flavor than xima. I am seriously chega of xima.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After Portuguese class yesterday we had to run around
Namaacha in search for ingredients for the cooking exchange today even though
all any of us wanted was to go home and pass out, or in my case dip into my
Reese’s pumpkin stash. On the way home I tripped over a rock and should have
caught myself but instead I just kind of gave up halfway down. Some days there
just aren’t enough rocks, but this day there were too many. I fell flat on my
butt onto a protruding stone in the ground and now I have a bruise on my
backside the size of Texas. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On the bright side, today was a great day. The cooking
exchange was just what I needed. Within our language group we picked food to
make for our maes and they cooked food for us. My mae cooked arroz com mboa,
which is rice with pumpkin greens, coconut, peanuts and onions…very delish!
Sorry to say though it couldn’t hold a candle to the meal we made for them. We
fried up a chicken (after killing and cleaning it of course) and made buffalo
sauce with some Frank’s that Mark had brought from home. Then we made real
mashed potatoes with butter and milk and garlic, and fried green tomatoes using
some ranch seasoning I had packed (thanks Kathryn!). </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Who knew I would be having fried green tomatoes in Africa?
Certainly not me, but you won’t hear me complain about it. As I was eating I
could just close my eyes and easily feel just like I was back home. There is
nothing like some comfort food to fix all your problems. This philosophy is
probably why I will eventually weigh 300 lbs or so.The best part was that our maes loved our food! Mine even
had seconds and told me she wanted to make fried tomatoes and buffalo chicken
again.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
So there are good days and bad ones. Sometimes I miss home
but sometimes I am overwhelmed by the amazing culture here. Connecting with
people over things like music, dance and food is a beautiful thing, especially
with a language barrier. It never ceases to surprise me how similar we all are
even with such different ways of life.</div>
Cara Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14627480604709365712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7609818094409064737.post-75910348089979391952013-10-13T02:21:00.002-07:002019-08-20T06:29:50.264-07:00My Life as "Face" <div class="MsoNormal">
Well this is gonna be a long one. I’ll try to summarize the
past two weeks as best I can…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I finally have internet! No phone, due to the faulty nature
of technology purchased in Africa and the headache-nature of unlocking my
iPhone, partially due to Apple and partially due to Sprint. But all this aside,
I am finally able to update my blog…hooray!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Travel and our whirlwind stay in Maputo took a lot out of
me, but I have never and will probably never again experience the range of
emotions I felt on the day we arrived in Namaacha. We exited the buses and were
greeted by a host of women in capulanas (Mozambican colorful fabric worn around
the waist like a skirt) singing and holding pieces of paper with our names on
them. I found my mãe and then, all of a sudden I was walking down the street
with her towards the house I would be staying in for the next 3 months, racking
my brain for things to say in Portuguese. It was awkward. When we got to the
house I met my 19-year-old sister, Lidia and we ate lunch together after
setting up my room and mosquito net.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I live in a 3 room house with a small gas stove (very nice
when the power goes out…which is a lot) in the kitchen and a small television
on which we watch tela-novellas every night. We also have a DVD players and a
wealth of Kung-Fu movies but I have yet to watch any of them. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Around dinner time my family left for a party at our
neighbor’s house who also happens to be the host family of one of the other
volunteers, Matt. We had a great time eating and drinking and dancing and
holding Matt’s adorable baby brother. It was probably nine or ten o’clock
before my mãe told me the party was for a dead guy. She explained that everyone
was having so much fun because they like to celebrate a person’s life instead
of mourning their death. It was such a shock to be thrown into something like
that with a bunch of people you’ve just met who don’t speak your language, but
writing this down now is funny because someone in my immediate vicinity is
either having a party or blasting music from their house constantly. I’ve just
grown used to it. Usually my indicator that it’s time to get up and take a bath
is Titanium blaring from my neighbor’s house every morning at 5:45 AM. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My first day in Namaacha feels like months ago, now. Since
then I’ve killed a chicken, hiked up the mountains and to the Swaziland border,
taught my family how to do the wop, learned all sorts of different Mozambican
dances, given 4 haircuts to my fellow PCTs, and tried numerous times without
results to explain to everyone why I’m not married with children yet.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My daily schedule these days is basically 12 hours of
total-immersion Language classes sprinkled with classes about the technical
aspects of teaching. I wake up at around 5 AM to the sound of HUNDREDS of
roosters crowing at the same time and I lay there for about an hour daydreaming
of cutting the heads off of every chicken that lives in this country. Then I
take a bath out of a bucket outside, usually accompanied by a lizard or maybe a
frog. The bucket bath is an art form but once you’ve mastered it you would be
surprised how little water you actually need to bathe. And I get clean, too! It’s
not pleasant in the mornings when it’s cold but nothing beats a nice outdoor
bucket bath in the afternoon when it’s 100 degrees outside. After my bath I
have to “tomar cha” which means to drink tea but I’m the only one who actually
drinks tea in my family. The rest of them just load up their hot water with
instant coffee, milk, sugar, etc. And God forbid you should do this without
eating bread as well. Sometimes I have an egg or a banana too, but always bread
lest mãe give me the third degree on why I did not eat bread with my tea in the
morning. I think it might be somewhere in the Portuguese version of the Bible.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After a full day of grueling classes that make me want to
drown myself in my bath bucket or maybe even my latrine, I usually go for a
walk around Namaacha to visit my friends and return home in time to eat dinner
and watch the Brazilian soap opera Passions with mãe before passing out from exhaustion
at around 8.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Living in Africa is of course different than living in the
States, but in a lot of ways it is very similar. The other night we had German
potato salad for dinner! Everyone laughs when I tell them my name since it translates to "face" in Portuguese, and some of them refuse to recognize it as a name at all and just call me Carla or Carlotta. It’s very overwhelming right now but at the same time
there is such a routine that it was easy to accept the quirks and roll with it.
This is my life now, for the next two years and I am so lucky to be
experiencing it and to have 49 other wonderful people to share this experience
with.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A few of the girls in our group have started to meet every
week for devotions and talking with them really makes me excited to see what
God has in store for all of us during this period. It’s so hard and so overwhelming
sometimes and I have experienced every single emotion that humans are capable
of, sometimes all in one day. At the end
of the day, though, I know I’m here in this place with these people for a
reason and I can’t wait to watch it unfold.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Currently the best bet of contacting me in the near
future is probably Facebook or email. I love and miss everyone from home but my
days are so jam packed that it’s hard to find time to check in, so please
forgive me! I will try to update more often from now on and hopefully I’ll
have some pictures to show soon, too. Right now, though, my sister is frying
some delicious-smelling chicken and I think it’s time for a Domingo nap before
lunch.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
Cara Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14627480604709365712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7609818094409064737.post-73501178396674447992013-09-27T13:20:00.001-07:002019-08-20T06:29:50.213-07:00Welcome to Moz!<div class="MsoNormal">
There is one word that keeps coming up when I or any of my
fellow volunteers try to describe our feelings on our current situation:
<i><u>overwhelmed.</u></i> It was overwhelming to say goodbye to so many people that I will love
and miss for the next 27 months. I was overwhelmed at training with all these
new faces and with the amount of information given to us in 7 hours. The
flights were overwhelming. I was awake from 6:45 AM Tuesday morning until about
11 PM last night (Thursday), aside from dozing on the plane. I have no idea
what time or day it is because those three days just felt like one very long
day. Then today was filled with scary “you’ll probably die or get mugged here”
speeches from the Embassy agents and even scarier “you’re teaching students in
fluent Portuguese in three months” spiels sprinkled, of course, with lots of
shots and hilarious yet emphatic condom lectures from the medical officers. There’s just so much information and so many emotions that I don’t even
know what to do with myself. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Somehow, though, even when I get a little panicky I still
have this feeling that everything will be fine. Honestly the most overwhelming
thing I have experienced is also what I believe has kept me going: the insane
amount of love, support, and prayers I have received from everyone back home.
<span style="font-size: large;">So, thank you all because it truly means the world to me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t even know how
to express my gratitude so you’ll just have to trust that your kind words and
gifts have made a tremendous impact on my transition so far. Also, please don’t
feel bad if I can’t or don’t respond to texts, emails, facebook, etc. right now
because I have probably had a total of 2 hours to myself since we arrived at staging and wifi was available for only
half of that.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Not that I’m complaining, though, because I love every
single person in our group. I really feel like I just made 50 more best
friends. There has been some poking fun at my accent, as I knew would happen,
but I’m not the only Southerner here so that makes me happy. In fact, there are
a couple of people who live in the Atlanta area even. Also one of them has a
friend from Conyers, which is strange. So many weird connections—it’s crazy how
small the world is. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When we arrived in Africa, sleep deprived and delirious, it
was strange that it reminded me a lot of Peru. The houses and shops and markets
are just uncanny, down to the Coca Cola umbrellas sheltering the street carts
from the sun. It also reminded me of the slum at SIFAT and the one we built on
campus with Committee of 19. Lots of lean-tos made from aluminum siding and
tarps, lots of slum areas outside of the city. Currently we are staying in a
nice hotel…not just nice for Africa. Maputo is a big city on the coast and
while we are not allowed to leave the hotel we will come back before going to
site so I’ll be excited to actually visit the beach. Until then I’ll just have
to settle for the gorgeous view, hot showers, and three delicious meals a day.
Not a bad deal if you ask me. Right now I am listening to the DJ outside play “Call
Me Maybe” and “Mambo Number Five,” so that’s more than amusing.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tomorrow we meet our host families and begin Pre-Service
Training, or PST (Peace Corps has so many abbreviations). I already know that
my mãe and pãe have a 19 year old daughter, and that my pãe is a police
officer. Honestly I am most worried about communicating with them, because when
I get anxious I have trouble remembering any vocabulary at all. I am excited, though because after much worrying that I would be stuck in English or Math, our Training packets have confirmed that I will be teaching Biology! Woohoo...cells and bacteria and genetics! To put a cherry on top of the situation, there are a pack of Bio nerds who love to talk about science as much as I do and we will be living close together in our own <i>bairro</i> with the Chemistry volunteers.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ok, so this post was pretty much word vomit so you’ll have
to forgive me and chalk it up to the overstimulation currently taking over my
life. I love it, though. One of the signs entering the South African airport in
Johannesburg hit the nail on the head for me. It said, <b>“They call it Africa. We
call it home.” </b></div>
Cara Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14627480604709365712noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7609818094409064737.post-36140764095508950652013-07-26T19:12:00.003-07:002019-08-20T06:29:49.649-07:00Pursuit of Healthiness: Medical ClearanceI suppose I'm overdue for a post, but there really hasn't been anything to write about. The Peace Corps, you see, is a giant game of "Hurry Up And Wait." There are a few deadlines that require great effort (usually paperwork-related) but they are so spaced out that you're just left sitting in the dark for weeks or months at a time.<br />
<br />
Today was one of those deadlines that I am so happy to have completed so I can resume sitting around and pretending I don't have to pack 2 years worth of stuff into 2 suitcases in a couple of months (really 1 because I have designated one suitcase to be filled with peanut butter and kraft mac n cheese). Today was the <b><span style="font-size: large;">end of medical clearance!</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b>
Ahh yes. No more being pricked or stabbed or poked and prodded. This is a major relief for me for two reasons. First, I don't like the doctor. Don't get me wrong, I love my doctor and all the nurses who work in his office. In fact, I had my first tearing up moment when they were all saying goodbye and wishing me luck. They have all known me since I was born, after all (Yes, I still go to my pediatrician, judge if you wish). But the Tupps clan is traditionally a self-medicating kind of family. If we go to the doctor, we go because there is no other choice. If it can possibly get knocked out by our immune systems, we let it. So the fact that I had to have a dental exam, physical, extensive blood work, vaccines and a...ehem...female exam in the span of a few weeks was just too much. Granted, I have had months to get this done but let's not pretend my procrastinating ways left my system when I graduated.<br />
<br />
Secondly, since the Tupps clan isn't in the market for routine medical maintenance, we don't have health insurance. So basically I thought I was going to have to put up my unborn children as collateral in order to pay for all of these things. I made it work, though, with some resourcefulness. For the dental exam, dentists belonging to the ICD will do peace corps exams and xrays <u style="font-weight: bold;">for</u><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><u style="font-weight: bold;">free!</u> So I found this nice old man in Atlanta to do mine.<br />
<br />
Then there's the lab work. There's really no way of getting around paying a good bit for lab work and PC requires a lot of it! I did manage to get my HIV, Hep B and Hep C tests done for free by requesting my test results from the Red Cross after giving blood, which is something I do regularly anyways. That cut a big chunk out of the cost and I had enough money saved from nannying and graduation that I could now (at the last minute) get the rest of my blood work done at the health department. Of course, no one wants to make two trips to that awful place so I scheduled my pap test for the same day.* Needless to say it was not the best day ever.**<br />
<br />
Now all that I had left was the physical, which I thought wouldn't cost much until I saw the fine print that it <u>must</u> be done by an M.D. or a D.O. and realized the only people who work at the walk-in clinics or the health department are nurses or PAs. Anyway I came out of it spending less than $500 so for all you uninsured future PCVs it can be done!<br />
<br />
And it is done! And I am glad, because I felt like I was walking around with band-aids on my arms for a solid two weeks.<br />
<br />
<br />
Now, on to more exciting things.<br />
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I found out that staging is in <span style="font-size: large;">Philadelphia! </span>So while I'm not as excited as I would have been if it were in LA or DC, I still can't wait! Philly cheesesteaks and the Liberty Bell! Staging, by the way is sort of a 2-day debriefing where all of the Group 21 Mozambiquers meet each other before we fly out for training. Did I mention that I'm excited? I cannot wait to meet everyone I'll be going with and to, you know, actually GO. The only bad thing about it is that the Braves aren't playing in Philly the days I'll be there, sigh.<br />
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That's all for now. I'll report back when there's something to report about again. In the mean time, the list of things to do/buy gets longer and the days get shorter.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Side story: An example of how awful the health department is: I am sitting in a chair waiting for a very nervous nurse to draw blood. I have tiny veins and whenever I give blood they always have some sort of issue getting that large needle in there. She asks for someone else to do it because she can't find one to draw from and two nurses come in to help. One of them says loudly that she hasn't drawn blood in a long time and needs to <b>"<u>practice</u> on someone." </b>My nurse tells her she doesn't want to practice on me because of my veins. She says "Aw, I bet I could do it!" I don't know what the stare I gave her looked like but I was trying to channel, "touch that needle and I will use it to gauge your eyes out slowly." It must have worked because she let the second nurse do it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">**Another health department gem: I was not allowed to eat or drink anything before drawing blood for my lab work, yet they still expected me to pee in a cup. Twice.</span>Cara Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14627480604709365712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7609818094409064737.post-41304581721032529582013-03-30T01:12:00.001-07:002019-08-20T06:29:49.854-07:00So, do they?It's approaching 3 AM on a Friday night and I am looking through Google search results for baseball in Africa. This is what my life has come to. As it turns out, Africa does have baseball! Not much, but it's there and there is also a humanitarian effort to use children's baseball leagues to raise HIV/AIDS awareness. Don't ask me why this question arose...I was just thinking about opening day and how if the Braves finally win the World Series this year I won't be around to see it. (It's not far-fetched, okay?)<br />
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I recently received the information on my country of service and assignment as well as a WEALTH of paperwork to fill out, agree to, scan, mail, email, fax and telegraph to various offices. Oh, and I only have a few months to get it all done. So I'm stressed and instead of just getting it done I'm looking up how to obtain a pet mongoose once I've arrived in Africa.<br />
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Here's the quick and dirty summary of my assignment:<br />
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Country: Mozambique<br />
Wait...where is that?! : It is right above South Africa and across the Indian Ocean from Madagascar<br />
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<img height="185" src="http://www.topnews.in/files/mozambique_0.jpg" width="200" /><br />
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When I leave: September 24th for Staging (still somewhere in the US). September 26th for AFRICA! (mark your calendars)<br />
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When I'll be back: December 5th, 2015<br />
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What I'll be doing with my life between graduation and then: I don't know, okay? Gimme a break, geez!<br />
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So those are the crucial details...there's so much more but Montel Williams just came on the TV so that means I should have gone to sleep long, long ago.<br />
<br />Cara Bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14627480604709365712noreply@blogger.com0