Oi, mama!

Mozambican women are just fabulous. There's Julieta, always donned head to toe in kapulana, ready to head to mosque. And Atija, with her freshly-picked afro, harkening back to the days when Angela Davis was a wanted woman. And then there's Fatima, working so diligently in the heat, her breasts flopping out of her sweat-drenched top while she single-handedly runs the operations of her 7-person house. Whether driving monstrous Land Cruisers through town or carrying three crates of Coke bottles on their head, these women command a certain respect unlike anything I've ever seen. Their presence is fierce, magnetic and warm. They're an army you want on your side, and I continue to be inspired by them everyday.

You Don't Know

I tend to write in the abstract-vague sentences attempting to convey aspects of whimsy and emotion. Sunsets and rainstorms are equally as beautiful here, and this you could have already guessed. Every scene, every moment is a memory of which I wish to share but when it comes down to it, many of you do not actually know what I do. So this afternoon (and boy is it a SCORCHING afternoon) I've chosen to forgo the breathy language and opt for a more cohesive explanation of my life. I live in Pemba, Cabo Delgado, a predominantly Muslim area that is also a major tourist destination. Yes, I live a ten minute walk from the Indian Ocean and a barrage of hotels and restaurants, boasting a certain semblance of American food. There are a multitude of ex-pats here, many of which I see driving in their NGO-stamped Land Rovers. But as for me, I walk. A lot. I work in two places: for a tiny, community-based org in the city (a 20 min bus ride) and a LARGE NGO (a 10 min walk). My title is Community Health Promoter, following the objectives of assisting our orgs with capacity-building inciatives as well as organizational development. My daily schedule? Make my way into town around 8 or 9 to meet my collegues for home visits to patients living with HIV/AIDS, fill out paperwork at a local hospital or attend a meeting with all 30 activists in the CBO. I normally make it home around 3 or 4 to cook.

Doodles on Driftwood

We heard the thunder rolling in, and could see the behemoth storm clouds making their way over the water. "Acho que esta a chover em Paquite agora!" I think it's raining in Paquite now! I said of the bairro both across town and across the bay. Living on Lake Erie, I'd always been told growing up that it's not safe to be by the water when the storms come in-they come in quickly and with waterspouts...I can only imagine being on the shore of the Indian Ocean when these cumulonimbus spectres moved in. So I hurried along my steadfast companions Irene, 9 and Mariama, 4 to gather up our bags of bread and mangoes and head home. Six hours later and not a single drop of rain! Having regrets about vacating the beach in vain, I was placated by the splotches of thick marigold-tinted sunlight that shown through my curtains as the rain clouds claimed the sky and brought with them the relief of an evening breeze. And let me tell you, there's nothing as sweet as stepping out on the veranda after a hot, humid Saturday of housework and letting the wind hit your face. ...That's all for now! Apologies for the short posts, but it's no fun typing on a cellphone. ;)

Goat Radar

Have you ever wanted to punch a goat in the face? I love animals, don't get me wrong. A fluffy kitty is nice, a happy go-lucky dog is fantastic. Yeah, geckos and fish and the blue swallows by the sea are neat. But really, truly I could see myself with bloody knuckles on the way to work sometime very soon. Please, dear reader, do not inform PETA of my hypothetical undertakings. You see... this goat, this loud, obnoxious yard-dweller seems to have taken it upon herself to be my very own personal alarm clock. At dawn, her vocal expressions are manifested by a barbaric, nasal ("waa-aa-aaaa") yop, incremental by three seconds or less. At mid-day or evening time, her whines are less frequent, yet are indistinguishable from the chorus of infant/toddler cry. I have not requested you, billy goat, nor would I ever, for you come with no money-back guarantee or snooze button.