My week of Orc-dom in Chimoio

If you ever need a good “get-to-know-you” game for your next rendezvous with new friends and cheap wine, I've found the following will really get people going: Pick your favorite superpower, then, slap on a limitation. My personal favorite? Teleportation, but you can only teleport to places you’ve already been to meaning, a) you still have to do the hard work of getting somewhere for the first time, but b) after that you can revisit a place as many times as you want! Here’s another example however that might make you reach for another glass of wine. Flying would be awesome right?  Of course. But what if you could only fly two feet off the ground the whole time???

BOOM.

Suddenly, when you think about flying at crotch level for the rest of your life, the “super” part starts to wear off and seem not-so-sexy. 

These last two weeks in particular have taught me something about humility in the face of such – shall we say, disappointing if not unexpected – limitations.

Primarily, I am completely accustomed – and now realize how much I’ve taken it for granted – to being healthy 99% of the time. Mono? Never had it. The flu? Not really. Malaria? Not yet. Flesh-eating bacteria? Escaped that one too (at least so far!)

But, when I woke up one morning two weeks ago with my left eye swollen shut, a lump the size of an egg between my eyebrows, and a plan to hitchhike, alone, with random strangers ten hours to Chimoio, the timing for my superpower of perfect health to falter couldn't have been worse. However, being in complete denial (mostly due to the lack of a good mirror and light), I hit the road early anyways, only thinking to pop heavy doses of Advil and Benadryl, wrap a bandanna across my forehead, and to don my darkest, biggest aviator sunglasses. Let’s just say those things didn’t come off at any point during the day. Trying to cheer myself up, I thought about the new parallel between my life and Kanye’s ("We formed a new religion/No sins as long as there’s permission / Sunglasses and Advil, last night was mad real / Sun coming up, 5 a.m., I wonder if they got cabs still?") and felt a little better. In any case, it was tough embracing the impersonal doucheness of not giving anyone visible eye-contact for an entire day. But it was a good personal challenge and beat the alternative of getting stranded in the middle of nowhere because no one wanted to pick up the blond ogre… ;)

Eight hours, one creepin' drunk driver, three corrupt policemen, one bridge crossing, and two chappas later I finally arrived in Haleigh’s town of Vanduzi, about 30 minutes north of Chimoio. I was tired, grumpy, and the lump on my face had started throbbing with the vengeance of an angry hornet. But I was about to receive the best antidote – sympathy, and compassionate friendship. When Haleigh saw me finally get off the chapa, she trotted over happy with her dog Amendoin, her turquoise skirt ruffling with each step and gave me a tight hug. Amendoin was also excited to see me, and was, as per usual, yelping and wiggling his tail/entire body off.  The lovin’ couldn't have come at a better time to say the least. I needed a boost.

Hay and I spent the evening walking around her village, going to the market, cooking quinoa ‘n veggies, talking with criancas, drinking beer, catching up… the usual things best friends do after missing out on each other’s lives for too long. The next morning we also went for a fantastic run through the beautiful lush green and mountainous countryside, common of Moz’s Central region.  It was absolutely wonderful.  Like chicken soup to the PacNWers soul :)

My face refused to be ignored nor heal up magically on its own however. The morning before Hay and I went to Chimoio for our PCV Reconnect conference for 19ers, I woke up and found that my face had literally blown up to the size of a balloon, a glorified puffy bowling ball. Really, it looked like I’d transformed into an orc from Lord of the Rings, OR like I’d had the sh*t beaten out of me. As I told Sergio (APCD) later, rather cavalierly in retrospect, “yeah, but you should have seen the other guy!”

The 12 hour progression of my face... to Orc (LOTR) status! ;)

It was at this point that Hay wouldn't tolerate any more of my excuses and pleas for “waiting-it-out.” Being the good friend that she is, she told me that I needed to go to the hospital. ASAP. It was the first time anyone had said it out-loud  I’ll admit, I kinda started getting scared. I mean, after all, this infection was on my face! Could it spread to my brain??? Having a creative imagination, visions not of sugar plum fairies but rather mystical zombie-brain-eating-bacteria danced through my head.

Awesome. So, ok. It was time to call Izzy, our Peace Corps doc. An appointment was made within 20 minutes with a local doctor in Chimoio for the next day.

To make a long story shorter, I ended up spending the next THREE mornings at the local clinic in Chimoio, getting my face squeezed, prodded, analyzed, and finally drained of a disgusting, gagging amount of pus. Thankfully, I didn’t have to navigate the Mozambican health care system alone. Gabby, Anna, and I went to the clinic together for our various issues.  Perhaps the funniest moment however came the first time we entered the doctor’s office. A stout, tan, Cuban man with smiling eye-crinkles stood up to welcome us. When we sat down, he took one look at the thing growing on my face and exclaimed in a staccato-ed Spanish, assuming Gabby and I wouldn’t understand, “My God, it’s good she came to see me now, otherwise she’s so ugly not even a Latino would want to sleep with her!!”

While the comment didn't do wonders for my confidence at first, it later fueled in me a sort of defiance. Like, *uck yeah, I have this alien thing on my face that’s people can’t help but stare at. AND I’M GONNA ROCK IT. I’M GONNA LOOK THEM RIGHT IN THE EYE AND STARE THEM DOWN.

Despite all the tough mental talk, I couldn't have held my resolve without the support of my fellow 19er PCVs either. Their humor, their empathy was fantastic. I mean, my bestie Cheyanne and I even had a running list of names for this sucker to laugh it off. That list however will remain undisclosed haha ;)

And really, this whole experience taught me a lot!

For one, to have more appreciation for the fact that people perceive me as “normal” – that I don’t have to go around explaining this or that or who I am to any and every casual observer. Also, that being “normal” offers you a helluva amount of privilege.

Secondly, to have the maturity of accepting that even if I was deemed an ogre for the rest of my life, it’s not the end of the world! If anything, it helps you know who’s got your back. It made me think back to a girl I used to play in the orchestra with, who was born with a large birthmark on her face. I remember she told me once she called it her “boy/friend filter” – that anyone who couldn't get past judging her superficially wouldn't have the qualities she wanted in a friend or relationship anyways. In other words, haters gonna hate, so accept the people that accept you for you!

Thirdly, patience is a virtue, but procrastination is not!! Next time, get thee to a hospital much sooner woman!!!

Oh and for the record, we still don’t really know what caused this huge allergic reaction/grande infection… Our best guess is that it was a nasty bug/spider bite that got infected.

EWWWW.

Nine dead after Renamo threatens war to block elections

[SOURCE: "Mozambique News Reports & Clippings," Ed. Joseph Hanlon]

Nine people have been killed since Friday in a growing confrontation between Renamo and the government in Muxúnguè, Sofala province, on the main north-south road (EN1) 100km north of the River Save. This follows a statement by Renamo Secretary-General Manuel Bissopo to the daily O Pais (2 April 2013) that Renamo is prepared to go to war to prevent registration and elections this year.

In an attack on a police post on Muxúnguè Friday 5 April, four police and one Renamo attacker were killed. In an attack on road traffic on Saturday in Muxúnguè, three people were killed; Renamo denies involvement in this attack. And on Sunday in Muxúnguè, in an unexplained attack, the local Anglican pastor was killed.

"Mapa localizador - Central" Atlas de Mocambique 2009

The confrontation grows out of Renamo's rejection of electoral laws approved in parliament. During the extended debate on the electoral laws last year, Renamo consistently demanded the right to have veto power in the National Elections Commission (CNE). This was never a possibility, but Renamo remained implacable in its demand.

"The decision of the majority bench of Frelimo to approve the electoral law and the CNE without consensus is an invitation to war," declared Renamo spokesman Fernando Mazanga in an interview with the Portuguese news agency Lusa (2 April 2013). And he confirmed Renamo is ready for war.

"There will not be elections. Renamo will not allow elections. Renamo will not accept any Mozambican moves to prepare the electoral process," Renamo Secretary-General Manuel Bissopo told Lusa (29 March)

The Renamo head of mobilization in Beira, Horacio Calavete, earlier said “we are not saying that we are not going to stand in the elections this year. We are saying that we will not allow the voter registration, much less the municipal elections, to take place”. (O Pais, 25 March 2013) He threatened that, if the police try to prevent any Renamo demonstration, the party would call on its former guerrillas to intervene. “If the police use force, we shall react in the same way,” Calavete said. “Our soldiers will not forgive."

Renamo has also refused to name its two members of the CNE and is refusing to participate in the ad hoc parliamentary commission to name civil society members of the CNE.

In the early morning of Wednesday 3 April the riot police (Força de Intervenção Rápida, FIR) responded by raiding the Renamo party headquarters in Muxúnguè and in Gondola, Manica province. There were between 200 and 250 men at the Renamo headquarters in Muxúnguè, who were dispersed and 15 were arrested. A similar number were at the Gondola party headquarters, where 3 were arrested. Both groups included some former guerrillas from the 1980-92 war, but Renamo says that the gatherings were just two of many being held by the party throughout the country to mobilise against elections.

There is no law against even large political gatherings on private property. Initial reports were that the Renamo people were unarmed and no shots were fired. In Gondola the raid was not resisted. But in Muxúnguè the spokesperson for the Sofala provincial police command, Mateus Mazive, said that because of the resistance offered by the Renamo men, the police used tear gas. (AIM 4 Apr 2013)

Police and district administration spokespeople gave various justifications, including that the two Renamo offices were "military camps", Manica police spokesperson, Belmiro Mutudiua. said that the presence of such a large number of men at the office constituted a danger and was causing panic among the local population, because of the “clandestine meetings” they were holding. “Renamo did not inform the local government … The presence of those men constituted a threat, and so we dispersed them and occupied the office”. (AIM 4 Apr 2013)

At 3.40 am the next morning, Thursday 4 April, Renamo men attached the Muxúnguè police station, killing four members of the riot police (FIR) and injuring at least nine; one of the Renamo attackers was also killed. (CanalMoz 5 Apr 2013, http://canalmoz.co.mz/hoje/24828-renamo-deixou-ummorto-

no-ataque-ao-quartel-da-fir.html)

Then at 16.50 on Saturday afternoon there was an attack on the main EN1 road about 30km south of Muxúnguè. An armed gang attempted to stop a bus of the South African company Intercape which was travelling from Maputo to Beira. The driver did not stop and the armed men shot at the bus, injuring two passengers. Next they shot at a southbound tank lorry forcing it to stop. After it stopped, they shot and killed three passengers. Next the armed men tried to stop a southbound bus of the Mozambican company Etrago which drove through the ambush without incident.

This is an area of the EN1 in which there were repeated attacks by Renamo on road traffic during the 1980-92 war, and government officials and media again blame Renamo for these attacks. But Renamo head of security Ossufo Momad denied any Renamo involvement in a statement Sunday. But according to Noticas (8 Apr 2013) he also warmed people not to drive along that stretch of road, and also warned of possible attacks in Maputo.

Finally, on Sunday in Muxúnguè in an unexplained attack, the local Anglican pastor was killed. (Noticias 8 Apr 2013)

Catholic bishops in a pastoral letter Sunday said that the "hypocrisy" of both Frelimo and Renamo was behind the conflict. It cited the "intense antagonism and lack of tolerance and dialogue" on both sides. It went on to blame the lack of internal democracy in the two parties. "Aren't there many members of both parties who are afraid to express their own opinion if it differs from that of party leaders?" asked the bishops. (O Pais 8 Apr 2013)

What's in a Legacy?

Flipping through my Willamette U planner, I recently discovered a Greek proverb that seems to constantly hold weight with my thoughts this past month. It reads, “A society grows great when old men plant trees whose shade they know they will never sit in.” Having recently sprouted three Acacia trees from mere seeds, and avidly watching the dainty green fronds pop from their pods, stretch and unfurl themselves to the sky, I can’t but help have a better appreciation of the wonder and plain luck that’s involved in new beginnings and the eventual evolution of a legacy (after all, even the smallest seed becomes the grandest tree!). So often it’s incredibly daunting to have a vision of the future, especially when that dream starts out so fragile and vulnerable to the everyday barrage of elements. Yet, I’ve also realized every vision needs a champion. As such, I’ve been hawking over my little trees, defending them from snuffling dogs, pesky insects, and happily shrieking criancas with wildly ricocheting soccer balls that, while tragically destroying my melon plants one-by-one, will NOT be coming close to my little trees.  Mana Karina doesn’t mess around!

So why am I acting like an overprotective mother bear over three measly sprouts? Frankly, that’s an excellent question for someone who – much to her mother’s chagrin – has never held a trace of a green thumb in her life. If anything, things I’ve tried to grow in the past have wilted under my devotion and flourished with my negligence. Just ask my three cactus plants that I was given in fourth grade. They’d rather be left alone thank you very much! (Or at the very least handed over to the nice silver haired lady who talks to them while she waters them – lol, love you mom!)

In any case, even though I’m in Mapinhane for two years, my three little trees will maybe only stand four feet tall and be unable to offer me much reprieve from the scorching Mapinhane sun. Thus, I’m looking down the road 15 years to when some lucky Peace Corps volunteer or Mozambican teacher inherits my little nirvana. So, when they’re lounging in their hammock, writing lessons plans, or maybe even making big sweeping plans for women’s empowerment and educational reform, they’ll be looking out at the world from underneath the comfortable shade of the big canopy of Acacia trees that I planted.  And thus, my little trees are also making me come to terms with the competing tensions of time’s velocity and the weight of a legacy. Some days, two years of service can feel like eternity. But really, to a tree (and ultimately to a PCV) it’s just a blink of an eye, a rustle of delicate little green branches.  A wink and a nod. 

And so, I very appropriately celebrated the six month anniversary of leaving home and beginning my new life in Mozambique by completely forgetting about it. Yep. Completely. Moreover, I didn’t make the realization until two weeks later. Oops. (Future significant others out there, you’ve been duly warned, haha!)

I guess the secret to losing time is involvement. This past month, as I’ve become increasingly busy with teaching and school/community groups and activities, I’ve finally started to comprehend just how short two years of service truly is. Just think! The steps you go through to do your job as a volunteer as responsibly and respectfully as possible can require much more than a mere 27 months.  First, you have to be in a place long enough to adapt to cultural and linguistic differences and simultaneously form relationships within your community to become integrated. Then you need to collaborate with your friends, neighbors, and colleagues to assess community needs. After that, you have to weigh and organize your priorities. Finally, you can then organize a group of interested people and begin working toward one maybe two goals. THIS PROCESS IS SOMETHING MANY ACTIVISTS SPEND THEIR WHOLE LIVES PURSUING, let alone 27 months!! And while Peace Corps Volunteers often idealistically set out to “change the world” at the microcosmic level, even the most motivated “super-volunteer” can begin to feel the pang of self-doubt when faced with the reality of not being given any resources (aka money!) to actually jump-start community development projects . AND of course, it assumes that you actually have learned enough about your community to be in a position to accurately evaluate the needs of your host-community. Now that being said, it’s not like as a PCV you have to tackle the biggest community issues. You can absolutely (and should) start small. But again, mobilization is tricky! For example, it’s great if you want to build a community well or start a school music group, but good luck trying to find the money to sponsor the idea you and a few colleagues came up with. I’m thinking increasingly that being a PCV essentially means door-to-door grassroots organizing in a community that you’re still “new” to! For me, this dilemma kinda calls into question the real aim and effectiveness of Peace Corps. Is it really meant to be a development organization? Or, does it function solely to promote cultural exchange?  Who benefits more from the experience – the community or the volunteer? What dissonance exists between how PC markets its agenda of fostering peace and development, and how it actually enables volunteers to serve their host-communities? Are there organizational reforms that would help volunteers help their communities more effectively?

All these questions I’m only beginning to ask and am lacking any coherent response. But you can bet as I attempt to navigate these challenges over my term of service that after evaluating and continuously re-evaluating, I'll begin to understand just how I can best use my role as a volunteer to serve Mapinhane and help my neighbors help themselves.