An open letter to…myself

Last August, at the end of pre-service training, we were asked to write letters to our future selves.

It’s one of those classic activities that leaders of large groups love to use: scribble a quick note to yourself, throw it in an envelope, give it to the leader and totally forget about it until it gets handed back to you weeks or months later. I’ve quite honestly never cared for it much.

So, naturally, when our letters were passed out at our Reconnect conference in December, I stuffed the unopened envelope into a folder without giving it a second look…until last week.

I received a text from a fellow PCV saying he had just opened his letter to himself and was impressed by what he had written in August. I dug through my backpack, pulled out the folder, and searched for the envelope. Then I let it sit on my table for another 4 days.

I finally decided to open (and share) it in honor of completing 9 months in country, 6 months at site. I’m honestly not sure where the time goes, but I have a feeling these words will manage to transcend.

While they were written in response to personal situations, they seem more relevant than ever. I hope you can take them with you as you go.

It reads as follows, the photo above closing out the letter:

Remember that tomorrow is promised to no one. Take time to laugh every day, to smile, to be thankful. Remember the big picture and don’t lose a valuable day of your life being angry or upset or worrying about things out of your control. This day is yours.

Piti piti zwazo fè niche. Little by little. All good and important things worth having in life take time. Remember to be patient and to draw strength in the waiting. Things will come with time.

Bloom where you are planted. Adversity is a blessing that transforms you and pushes you to become stronger. Things may be tough, life may be nothing like you expected, but you have the power to choose how you will respond. Flowers make life more beautiful.

Things happen, such is life. Remember to let go of the things you don’t need, they will only make you heavy. The world you live in is inherently beautiful, remember to seek out the good every day.

When a wave comes, go deep. Throw yourself into everything you do wholly and fully, even when it seems impossible. When the world is daunting and life is giving you more than you think you can take, go with it. Let it toss you around and take you places and carry you along with it. You will come out better for it.

You have everything in you that you could ever need, you are stronger than you know. Above all else, remember that.

Journal: how to sweep the quintal

Ghost Protocol

In the whirlwind that has been my life these past two months, I’ve effectively gone ghost protocol on most of my social media accounts. However, I’m here today to tell you that it’s finally happened…I’m officially a Peace Corps Volunteer. Here’s a quick rundown from my time away:

On June 17^th we received our site placements. This is arguably one of the most exciting and terrifying days ever as we find out where we will be living and whom we will be working with for the next two years.

The weeks of June 26^th to July 16^th were spent visiting our sites, living with a second host family and shadowing our work placements. I’ve been placed with both a community based organization, Kuthandizana Kuchira, and the district hospital, Centro de Saude de Chitima. It was an interesting and stressful three weeks that were mostly spent observing in the hospital for several hours every day and exploring my new home.

On August 5^th I said goodbye to my Namaacha host family, loaded my final two bags into the back of a truck, and squeezed onto a chapa with my 44 fellow trainees. We made our way to the Ambassador’s home in Maputo where, after 13 weeks of training, we took our oaths and were sworn-in as official Volunteers.

The afternoon was spent at a cookout in the home of our Country Director, and after a night in Maputo we said our final goodbyes until December and parted ways for our sites.

On August 7^th, I arrived at my new home for the next two years in Chitima, Tete province (more to come on this later, I swear). My little yellow house in the desert was completely empty, save for the foam mattress, small plastic table and two plastic chairs provided by Peace Corps…and when I say empty, I mean totally empty. We’re talking 3 small rooms, 12 blank blue walls.

Now that I’m here in Chitima, this week has consisted primarily of trips to the market, the carpenter and my site mate’s house to buy/find all the items I need to live here on my own. And, on a Peace Corps Volunteer’s budget, it’s been quite the adventure! (And also hilarious as I try to get by in the meantime…reference the photo of cooking dinner in my kitchen.) I’m reconciling with the fact that it will be several months until I’m settled here.

I’ll most likely start work next week, which means I’ll have a few more days to clean and unpack…and a lot more hours to write. More pictures and posts to come!

Giving the oath and swearing-in as official PCVs in our matching capulanas (photo cred to the US Embassy)

Cooking my first dinner in Chitima

With 3 of my 4 host siblings at the volunteer despedida (going away party )

My oh my, life with my Mãe

My mãe runs a tight ship. The tightest of ships.

The house is always clean, the yard is always swept, and you’d better think twice about coming home with dirty feet (the latter of which, I must admit, I’ve learned the hard way through daily experience).

There are certain expectations in her house: the fire should be started before 6:15 every morning to ensure hot bath water, you don’t leave for school without washing at least your face and feet, and you don’t sit down for dinner without taking a full bath first. Chinelos (flip-flops) are to be worn around the yard and taken off at the door, but guests are never allowed to remove their shoes upon entering. Saturdays are for washing clothes, Sundays are for cleaning. Tea is an important part of the morning routine, and you had best leave yourself time to sit down and drink it before you even think about leaving the house.

Now, I’m not much of a rules person. I never have been and probably never will be. I’m going to go ahead and credit that to growing up with parents who mostly turned me loose to play outside, gave me the space to figure things out on my own, and always encouraged to think divergently—thanks Bern and Maria! Guidelines are cool, but when it comes to harsh instructions I think we could all just do without. That being said, these past 4 weeks have been both hilarious and frustrating.

Why aren’t you eating more dinner, filha? Don’t you like my cooking? Yes mãe, you’re a great cook, I’m just not that hungry right now. You’re not hungry? I’m hungry, just not THAT hungry. I normally don’t eat this much at home. But you liked it? Yes mãe, it was great. As good as bejia? You like bejia, don’t you? This is where I start to panic as I realize she knows that I ate a fried bean sandwich that morning when I went to the market with a friend. It’s now 6:30pm and quite obviously not the reason I’m eating a light dinner, but it was the perfect opportunity for her to let me know that she knows. Busted.

Did you take a bath yet, filha? No mãe, not yet, but I don’t think I have time. You didn’t take a bath? You need to go take one. I know, mãe, but there isn’t enough time before class starts. You have time, filha. But if you want to go to school without a taking a bath… This is where I give up and take a bath. Mae Beatriz is a force to be reckoned with and has the most powerful side-eye you’ll ever experience. I’ve reconciled with the fact that I will perpetually be 10 minutes late in the morning.

Filha, why are your feet so dirty? Every day you come home with dirty feet. How do you think that makes you look? And me? If Peace Corps sees you like this they will say “Oh! Beatriz’s daughter is so dirty!” And then they will think that my feet are dirty. Go wash them. Can I set my things down inside, mãe? Just wash them now. What I really want to say is that walking around dusty, rocky streets in sandals is hard to do and dirty feet are unavoidable…but I know this is irrelevant to her. This issue begins and ends at the present state of my red muddy toes. While her fear is largely irrational, I submit and rinse my feet and deal with the fact that they will never meet her standards.

Did you have your tea yet, filha? This inevitably follows the same pattern as the morning shower discussion, which will always end in me sitting down to drink tea despite the time. With this addition I will now perpetually be 15 minutes late in the morning.

Take a bath? Now? Yes! Now, before dinner. It’s a little cold, mãe. Can I just wait until morning? And go to bed with dirty feet? The water is already warm. First take a bath and then after, eat dinner. She poses this as both a question and a statement in what might be her trickiest move yet. The day comes full circle in this discussion as I do my best to form a logical argument that gets me out of a bucket bath in the dark, but alas I will almost always lose. At least my feet will finally be clean…

I try to pull the wool over my mãe’s eyes more often than I’d like to admit. It’s at least once a day. Once more, I’ve learned the hard way that my mãe knows everything. And I mean everything. I don’t know how she does it, but before I get the chance to tell her about my day she already knows where I’ve been and what I’ve done. I’m an 8 year-old trapped in a 22 year-old’s body who’s trying to outsmart her mom…life is weird at the moment.

But, with all that said, Mae Beatriz is great. She’s patient, understanding and strong in every sense of the word. Emotionally, physically, spiritually and in character. She works (literally) from sunrise to sunset every day to provide for her family. She puts herself aside to make room for all those under her roof. I may never understand all her rules, but I think I’ll learn a thing or two along the way about living with conviction.

Journal: How to do Laundry

Phase 1: fill 3 basins with water. Add detergent (item 4) to basin #1. Heavy scrubbing is to be done in this bucket. Spot clean with item #5 (green bar soap—it it scented? Who knows)

Phase 2: transfer scrubbed items to basin #2. Shirts and sweaters first, then pants. Let soak while continuing to work in basin #1.

Phase 3: squeeze excess water from items in basin #2 and remove all soap. This is done by dipping and wringing, dipping and wringing. Repeat in basin #3.

Phase 4: hang to dry, inside out. Pants from waistband, shirts from bottom. Stretch as far as possible (which seems too far, but what do I know?)

Other Notes:

• Shoes last with items 4 and 6. Beginning to end for 6 pieces of clothing: 45 minutes.
• Also to be noted that I could not remember the name of the detergent at the time of this drawing and subsequently used the incorrect Portuguese spelling of soap instead…its real name is Omo.

My life in Threes

So here I sit, 3 weeks since I left home, my 3^rd Monday in-country, ruminating on something I wrote on my 3^rd day in Namaacha. Ruminating on the sweeping view from Três Fronteiras high above and outside our new city, feet in Mozambique and South Africa and Swaziland all at once.

Everything happens in threes, right? It would appear so.

It’s funny and it’s strange how quickly 3 days, 3 weeks can feel like a lifetime. In some senses it is. All that was known, all that was familiar now left behind for this new life.

For bucket baths with mountain views. For pit latrines and trash pits. For water from buckets and rice for every meal. For creaky mattresses blanketed by bug nets. For unfamiliar faces that are now friends and family. For ties that bind.

Today I am thankful for new friends and family. For Esther as she braids my hair, for Ayume as she crawls into my lap. For Diana as she runs into my arms and Wilson as he runs away. For dinner conversations with Alek, Mãe and Pai over couve as we say our goodbyes to their first host-son, as they express their gratitude to him and he returns it two-fold. As they say they will not be sad now because they have a wonderful new filha.

3 days of tears filled our eyes as he walked out the door. Irmão, Filho. How quickly these bonds become sacred.

Life is strange, but it sure is beautiful.

My new digs

More logistics: two bedrooms, one common room, outdoor bathroom and outdoor kitchen. The common room serves as both family room and dining room (and occasionally kitchen). It has a gas range stove, box fridge, dish racks, TV, couch (bench seat from a car), a large formal dining table and a smaller plastic table where we eat all our meals.

I live here with 5 other people: my mãe (Beatriz), my pai (Fernando), my little brother (Wilson), and my two little sisters (Esther and Ayume). I have one other younger host sister (Diana) who is currently living with other family while I’m invading her space and taking over their bedroom. More to come on these lovely people.

Daily life in PST

The most mundane thing I could write about: my daily existence here in Namaacha. This post is dedicated to my mother and all those interested in the logistical aspects of my current life.

5:40 Attempt to wake up. Roll around in bed contemplating the misery of alarms that ring before sunrise.

5:50 Actually wake up. Get dressed quickly and mostly in the dark.

6:00 Make a fire. This is quite possibly the most important part of my morning because it heats our bath water…warm showers are the real MVP. Reference my post on fire building for all the gritty details.

6:15 Sweep the quintal or wash dishes from the previous night, depending on which activity my mãe chooses to do that morning.

6:50(ish) Morning bucket bath with views of Swaziland and South Africa

7:10 Eat breakfast in a panic in an attempt to be on time for lingua class

7:20 Run out of the house to make it to lingua on time. Get summoned back into the house by my mãe because I forgot my lanche (snack)

7:30 Lingua (Portuguese lessons) with 3 other volunteers and our Mozambican professor. The location changes each week between our homes.

9:40 This is where things start to get hairy. The schedule changes daily around this time from now until lunch, but it’s typically either more lingua or Technical sessions by PCV’s or guest speakers

12:30 Lunch at home

13:30 (because I use 24 hour time now…math is hard and the struggle is real) Technical sessions at the Hub, the central gathering location for training. These are typically presented by current PCVs or guest speakers and focus on anything from the healthcare system in-country, to professional and organizational development, to HIV/AIDS treatment and prevention. The list goes on.

17:00 Finish with scheduled activities for day. Typically head home at this point.

17:30 Help with dinner (as of right now we’ll use the word “help” loosely as most days it is fairly synonymous with “watch”)

18:30 Shower before dinner. This is a hard and fast rule in my house, with the rare exception of bathing after dinner if you’re too tired or waiting until the morning if it’s too cold.

19:00 Chiquititas is on! Kidding, we sit down to eat at/around this time. But the kids’ Brazilian TV show is always on during dinner and everyone (and I mean everyone, even the volunteers) loves it.

20:30 Bedtime. I am, quite embarrassingly, exhausted by this time every day. I help Esther clear what’s left on the table and head to my room for the night.