“Maryangela. how are you?”

“Maryangela. how are you?” she is asked. With a very pensive look, she delays her response, contemplating all the adjustments from morning till night she has had to undergo in the last two months. Immediately she wants to reply the token polite answer of “ I'm fine, thank you.” But to herself she wonders how she is doing after two months of transition. She no longer smiles when friends have said that she is crazy. She understands why her mother told her go for a few weeks and come home. She honors her children for being proud of her, but worries if the voyager gene has been passed to them. Maryangela seriously wonders why after being raised and cultivated in the northeast of the United States of America, now she sits in Africa and wonders what she can make any difference....

Independence Day: Mozambique on June 25^th celebrated it's 40^th Independence Day. Patriotism and pride was widespread from children to their parents. There are few in the age range of 55-75 (5% of the population) who remember the revolution starting in 1962 that finally ended in 1975. But celebration started days before, a torch symbolizing freedom was pasted throughout the country and my site of Magude, close to the capital, was delighted to be a stop.

I took a look at this countries history in the last fifty years and I understand why the celebrations is deserved. Even after the country's independence from Portugal, political and social unrest remained. In 1976 a rebel political party developed and started a civil war against the one party Marxist-Lenin doctrine. That civil war lasted till 1992 – 16 years - one million lives lost to war and famine. I can totally respect the verses in the national anthem; “Rock by rock we construct a new day”.

I still am not sure how my small rock influence a new day, I'm hoping I'll find some direction once I settle in.

Two of the three weeks of my visit have passed quickly. Introduction to my work place – Magude District Health Center – has been interesting. This morning I went over to the pediatric unit to observe how things are done. There was a group of perhaps 75 mothers and infants. At first I was brokenhearted because I could not get one baby to smile with me – unusual but I dismissed being rejected – I then helped with the infants weights. Well after that I too could not smile, I actually started to tear the weight gain was so low. The majority of the infants with such a low weight gain fall into the moderately to seriously malnutrition. The technician – not a physician, there is only one at this “big” hospital serving 66,000 population – tried to quickly ask about the number of times the baby was breast-feeding (here the health system promotes breast feeding for 18 months, higher in nutrition and the options are seriously limited – no Gerber's here). When one mother responded “twice” because she works - I had to quickly catch the reaction on my face as I looked at the slight curve on the baby's weight card. Another mother was also having her baby drink water. Another baby was sick and lost weight. Another mother missed three months of visits for her 8 month old, so the weigh card had gaps.

Can one small rock even put a ripple in this small pond?

Okay, think, what can I do? One possibility is to try to explain the weight cards and have the mothers understand the importance of weight gain for infants, then expand to nutrition. I also have to get them to attend the infant check-ups.

Did I tell you that the public health system here does not have check-ups? I'm sure that private doctors have patients that get preventative services, but for the 90% of the population who can't afford it they go when they get sick. When it comes to HIV everybody is promoted to come and get blood tests, Mozambique is #5 on the global charts for HIV/AIDS, after South Africa, Nigeria, India, and Kenya. The United States is #9.

“Maryangela. how are you?” she is asked. She responds, “My family and I are in good health.” And she means it with that “Attitude of Gratitude.” ........xo

All in the title.

I've been thinking about the title of my 7^th blog all day, should it be “Bulls Eye” or “Slow down horsey”. After you finish reading you will understand the dilemma.

I have been visiting my permanent site for 5 days, 5 days of whirlwind activities that do not have anything to do with the first American volunteer living here. It has been five days of me participating in these people's everyday lifestyle and cultural traditions.

Starts with Saturday; I'm hosted by a woman, in her mid 50's, who is renown in this small village of approx. 60,000 residents. She was raised and educated here and currently has a public position working in social affairs. Donna Chica has been the best hostess I could think of. My room was all made up, including sheets on the bed, a towel, and a pair of flip-flops. According to the Peace Corps packing list that was a pleasant token of hospitality. I also think we will be friends for a long time, according to her we are family. 

Now because of my new “sister” I worry about what is going to happen next. Follow me, you will understand:

SATURDAY: I arrive and Donna Chica was out but I was greeted my her sister, Rosalina, and their helper, Grandma, with a table of food and hot water. I must say when you have no idea of where you are going to land with food is very welcoming. After a nap and a bucket bath (I'm adjusting to that! I am so happy with a toilet that flushes, running water, and a tiled shower area) Donna Chica arrived and we sat for dinner. We had just finish and her phone rang asking her to come to a family's home because the woman just was killed in a car accident. I had recently learned that when deaths happen people all around town gather at the home. I suppose it is just the presence of people that comforts the loss. Well I was half right. After waiting outside for others to gather and for their faith leaders (this woman was Muslim), only the women go inside. Now the next hour was mind boggling, 30 women dressed in formal wraps entered the home and sat on the floor, all remained silent. Donna Chica in a very low voice spoke the tribal language, I didn't understand anything nor did I realize what was going on until the victim's mother and daughter started to wail. Ohhh, so this is I need not to explain the rest of the evening, it can be imagined. So sad.

I also learned that only the men go to the funeral, and women take part the in prayers done in the home for three evenings.

SUNDAY: Donna Chica and Rosalina are strong Christians but we could not go to church Sunday morning because we needed to head out of town for a wedding. A traditional wedding. A brief description of this is that a traditional wedding means there is no church ceremony and also contrary to Christian beliefs men can marry more than one woman. It is opposite from our traditional weddings – here its is traditional tribal weddings. The weddings procedure is also very different, I had to have explanations with all the happenings.

Here is the pictorial explanation of my understanding so far:

The wedding takes place over two days, here is the second day were the bride is welcomed by the husband's family at their home. Everything is done by the whole family group. It was not easy just figuring out who the bride or groom was.

Donna Chica is part of the bride's group, so we traveled way out to the bush (30 miles) to join up at the bride's family and headed out together to the groom's ranch.

Once we arrived the ceremony starts like this:

The song is called “Shana Ma We Amukela” and that means “We are here, will they receive us”. The groom's side is singing “Yes, please enter”.

Now on Saturday the groom presented the bride with a dowry; three cows. Goats. Clothes for each member of the family, and money. 

One cow is then killed the next day and the side in which the head falls determines which family will get what half of the cow. Lobolu – tradition which divides the cow among the families. The side the head falls is the determining factor. I don't know who got the tail side because I could not watch. Poor cow.

Each side selects a family representative (it's not the parent) who finally after food has been served sings the “Song of Happiness”.

These are build for antecedents of the family, they are their spiritual homes.

MONDAY: I start to work at the hospital. I will write about that in another blog. So far so good.

TUESDAY: Donna Chica's godson's birthday party. We visited him the night before and he and his mother were given the traditional clothe called capolana as gifts. They visited tonight and brought cake. This was a lovely birthday shared between the modern Portuguese ways and in the traditional tribal Changana. The role of godmother seems to be a very big position here. The mother of the birthday boy brought a capolana for Donna Chica, Rosalina, and me!

So, you must understand my uncertainty in titling this blog. I have only been here 5 days and I have experienced a death, wedding, a public holiday (Tuesday was “Day of the Children” and I attended this ceremony at the school), and a birthday party. It's all the “how's” and “why's” that makes up the “cultural adaptation” of this journey. There are no days off either.

So far I'm enjoying this adventure, yet I miss my kids, family, and friends. X O

ps. It took me many scrubs but my feet are finally clean from my training site! Terracotta no more! I go back to Naamacha in 2 ½ weeks for 4 more weeks of training and swearing in. As of August 1^st I will be a Peace Corps Volunteer and living and working at the hospital in Magude for two years.

Waiting for the next step.

I

What a long weekend it has been waiting for the announcement of our site locations. All of us were nervous, a bit scared, and excited. 

The envelopes were passed out and we opened them all at once – looking around all of us were smiling and seeking out our towns on the map.

I was posted to a site that is exactly what I was hoping for.

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  Sub-urban (2 hours from the capital)
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  • Large non-government organization
  • Large hospital
  • Funding through PEPFAR (US funding designated for HIV/AIDS)
  • There is no Dunkin Donuts BUT there is water and electricity!

I AM THRILLED! xo

My feet have landed

My feet have landed in Mozambique exactly a month ago, completing a goal that has been a strong force in me since I was a teenager. This blog hopes that all of us aspire to achieve a hope in our short lives, yet personally I am coming face to face with the effort and adjustment living and working in a country very different to the one I am a product of.
As you read these blurbs please realize that my mind is not changing - I'm not throwing in the hat - I'm really trying to balance day to day activities from what I'm used to to the ways these
things are done here. Many of you wished me well with sweet comments  which included bravery, motivation, and pride in me for wanting to change world.  Well as a sit here with feet stained with terracotta dirt and wishing for a good cup of coffee, let me tell you that this month I have wondered if those compliments are actually a curse that has been placed on me for drinking Reunite ( cheap wine) in the cemetery when I was in high school.
Bravery is required to start this venture but it evaporates when you start to unpack, then your "needs" hit you.  I can't believe I forgot Q-Tips! Then your cravings start and you begin disciplining yourself with your last .60 cents, bottled water won over Cadbury chocolate that day. There are many days that I  have scheduled myself to go the bathroom at Peace  Corps training hub, up and down 4 hills, even after a month it is still worth it.  If a Jeanie gave me three wishes I would ask for a broccoli farm, a tone of frozen chicken breasts, and the part-time job as a barista at the local hotel (a small cup costs close about 10% of my weekly stipend or about $16 for someone who works 40 hours a week at minimum wage in Connecticut). Technology challenged me at home because it always changing.. more services, faster, packages, and high tech.  My kids wonder how I mad it through school as they tried to explain a simple thing that I was having a cow over, here FO GET ABA IT!

Being able to communicate with family, especially Christian and Alycia, is now in my prayers along with not getting bit by a mosquito and getting malaria.

I'm sure that soon I'll find Q-Tips amd remember why I'm here.

XO

Whirlwind

The third and fourth weeks of  training has been a whirlwind! It started out with a long walk to visit the hospital of Namaancha. Yes, a long walk. After about thirty five minutes of walking UP hill I realized why because we were passing a street of very nice homes. My instructor politely informed me that this neighborhood 40 years ago was where the Portuguese colonizers lived, hence the hospital was just a few away. I immediately calculated that the ill people living at the other end - down the hills- would take close to an hour walk to get to the hospital. When I thought of pregnant woman my blood pressure rose.

Honestly, touring the hospital was a tad difficult, especially since I'm familiar to the state of the art Danbury Hospital. This is not only a bit of a culture shock, it is was a shock economically that this country faces.  Politically the health care system - although limited- is free (some medicine has an out of pocket expense equal to less than thirty cents). The country is very limited in Doctors, this hospital has just two. Technicians also were on duty serving at least two hundred patients.

The hospital has one small building to sign in, emergency care, a pharmacy, an analysis. Equipment and supplies are so limited that I needed to look at the sign out side of the door to differentiate.  The other main services that are offered have separate buildings    Gynecology ,Dental, Malaria, Maternity, and HIV/AIDS treatment, seemed to be the primary services that this hospital treated.  Mental health is also served by a  patient's visit to a consultant -  alcoholism, is in this unit.
This town is being visited by a  circumcision truck, yes, children from 10-18 are lining up get the surgery.  This seems to be a rite of passage traditionally but it is also promoted to reduce the risk of HIV. In more rural areas there is a ceremony and the circumcision are done for many boys  by a trained leader/elder of the area.

We also visited a "curandero"

who delivers traditional medicine. I'm reminded of the American Indian medicine man. In Mozambique  this man has "been called" by a spiritual voice.   There also seems to be fake ones marketing their services in the cities. The curanders provides three opportunities: medical healing with homeopathic medicines, spiritual counseling by calling on deceased relatives, and a very popular practice of reading the shells and sending your wish to external forces.  These wishes  vary from getting a job, or becoming famous to cursing a neighbor for stealing a chicken or a jealous wife wanting her husband's new girlfriend to have a painful delivery in childbirth.
I was trying to understand the validity of the curandero among the locals, well the verdict is still out on this topic.   I interviewed 4 people to get an inside view. It was so interesting to hear the responses when asked if they thought he was credible; two thought that he was satanic, two viewed that he was a source that could be needed. Not one has ever visited, although it has been said that there are appointments in the evening so they are not seen. There is also a fear that if they can't pay then a curse will be placed on them or their family. Interesting, huh?
 My Peace Corp assignment will be working with a local hospital during educational outreach for HIV prevention therefore it is  beneficial for me to remain objective about the services of the curandero. With this perspective the curandero might by a good outreach partner for health workshops.
Don't worry I'll wear garlic.