A Christmas Story

Inspired by my grandmother and others who still manage to send out a Christmas letter every year before Christmas, I have decided to spend a short while reflecting on this past year in the form of a Christmas blog. Yesterday, in the Christmas sprit, my friend Stephanie and I spent the afternoon baking three kinds of Christmas cookies. In the evening, we drank hot chocolate and ate popcorn while watching my favourite Christmas movie of all time: White Christmas.  In one of the songs in the movie, Bing Crosby’s soothing voice tells us to count our blessings. I decided to do just that, by reading back through my journal from the past year. To give you a snapshot, here are some excerpts from my journal on the 25^th of each month:

March 25^th, 2013-  [living in a rural village in Cambodia doing MCC SALT program] Taught English to a group of monks and kids at a Wat Chiphoch [Buddhist temple]. Today we learned the parts of the body.

 In March, I was half way through my 1-year SALT term (MCC’s Serving and Learning Together program). Living in rural Cambodia had its challenges, but was an immensely rewarding experience. In March had I had recently accepted a position with MCC in Mozambique to start in September, a month after I returned home from Cambodia. Even though I knew I’d only be in Cambodia for a short while longer, I never regretted for one moment the time and energy I put into getting involved in the community; not an easy task for someone of my nature. Teaching English at the Wat was always rather spontaneous and unorganized, but always fun time.

April 25^th, 2013- Fish and rice, fish and rice. Just in case I ever complain about other food and forget what it was like to eat fish and rice [three times] every day.

 Months after I wrote this, when I was home in Canada with all of the comfort food I so longed for all year, I found to my surprise that I missed rice. 

May 25^th, 2013- If you make tacos without cheese, sour cream, salsa, or lettuce, are they still tacos? Went to the market, got a flat tire, fixed the flat, hand-washed my laundry, and it is only 10 in the morning! (and did I mention I also slept in?!)

 Ah, making tacos with my host family in Cambodia. I managed to find taco seasoning and taco shells in one of the more western supermarkets in the big city, but couldn’t carry (or keep) the necessary produce.  My host family certainly didn’t know any different, and though they didn’t taste the same, they were still good!  Last year I also came to enjoy waking up early- 6AM was sleeping in. 6:30 was REALLY sleeping in! I could get so much done in the cool of the morning and enjoyed the quiet for reading my bible and journaling.

June 25^th, 2013- Went along for a sustainable agriculture training session with my Cambodian co-workers. I am finally able to talk with the farmers and answer all of the introductory questions they ask. Sad to be leaving Cambodia so soon.

 I learned to much in Cambodia about agriculture, farmer’s lives, the economics of conservation agriculture, the politics and social issues surrounding the same, farmer’s cooperatives, and how to know when is a good time to share and when is a good time to learn. People often ask what I studied at university. I learned more of real importance, applicability, and value in my one year in Cambodia than I would have in a lifetime in the library. It was a lot of work learning the Khmer language, but such a joy when I finally mastered some basic conversation. Whenever I met people for the first time, they always asked me “where are you from? How old are you? Are you married? I love your nose.”

My farewell party with the ODOV staff in Cambodia

 July 25^th, 2013- [on my way home from Cambodia, stopped in Akron Pennsylvania at the retreat centre for orientation prior to going to Mozambique] Went to the MCC material resources centre in Akron and found an old 1930’s edition Bird of North America written by the legendary Thomas Nuttall. Unbelievably happy!

 Birds, birds, birds. If you know me at all, you know I love birding. What a blessing to be able to experience the beauty of God’s creation this year- from the rice paddies of Prey Veng, to the lush forests of Northern Cambodia, from Canada’s beautiful bay of Fundy to Victoria Falls in Zambia, from Kruger National Park in South Africa, to the Mozambican bush. I’d never thought I’d get to experience so much, nor see so many different birds!

August 25^th, 2013- [Back in Canada for 1 month homeleave] Left bright and early to start off for Ontario, bringing my sister Janet to the university of Waterloo. Learning to drive standard along the way!

 It was so refreshing to be home again for a couple of months. To be sure, I experienced some reverse culture shock (not to mention the shock of the cold August night air). But I was very happy to be home. Before Janet went to university, we had a lovely month of camping, visiting the grandparents and friends, and eating LOTS of food with cheese. A highlight was when the 6 of us went on a 4 day backpacking trip around Cape Chignecto in Nova Scotia- a time to remember!

The Standens in Fundy National Park. Photo credit: Rebekah Hudson.

September 25^th, 2013- [in Zambia for Farming God’s Way training before going to Mozambique] Learned compost making and more about Farming God’s Way in Livuyu village just outside of Livingstone, Zambia. What a beautiful people here!

 Back on into the world of the unknown, of change. A world where adaptability is key. A world where it seems everyone else but you knows what’s going on (likely because this is true). My confidence is firmly placed in God alone.

October 25^th, 2013- [in Mozambique] I have a Portuguese Bible now! I have started slowly reading some of the parables and the book of Romans.

 I am now coming along quite well in Portuguese. I would be even better if I talked more… but some things don’t change.

November 25, 2013- Kids morning at church today in Beira, Mozambique. 4 hours long. 4 and a half for those who didn’t arrive late as we did. Made a delicious lentil curry with host sister Zuleca for supper while my host parents were out.

Starting to feel much at home with my host family. They are such warm-hearted and loving people!

Making pizza with my host family in Beira, Mozambique.

Back in Canada, I am used to measuring the passage of time by the coming and going of the sun and the seasons, of snow and showers, of school and summer holidays. I have to keep reminding myself that, despite the lack of these it is still very much the end of December, and Christmas is tomorrow. No, this past year has not been easy; He never said it would be. But oh, it has been good. I fall asleep tonight counting my blessings, knowing that will morning will come long before I can ever recount all the wonderful things God has done. 

Wishing you all a very blessed Christmas!

Rebecca

The story of Rebecca’s journey home from the magical land of Oz.

Lions, and leopards, and Lilac Breasted Rollers, oh my!

One of my colleagues at MCC got married this past weekend in Maputo, the capital city of Mozambique. She has been working there for the past three and a half years, met a Mozambican, fell in love, and you know the rest. We all traveled to the city to celebrate their marriage. It was a lovely time. Since most of the rest of the MCC’ers (including myself) live in harder to get to places, we took advantage of being in the city to go on vacation as it is much cheaper and easier to travel from there! Another Canadian family who’ve been working in the north of Mozambique invited me along for a trip to Kruger National Park in South Africa. It was amazing. Absolutely amazing.

In addition to seeing lions and leopards (twice!), we saw impala, many other small antelope, rhinos, elephants, giraffes, zebras, African painted dogs (endangered wild dogs), hyenas, crocodiles, hippos, buffalo, bush-babies, mongooses (mongeese?), warthogs, baboons, other monkeys, and much more! I got to see the hyenas very close up- they have developed the habit of patrolling the campground fence searching for leftovers people have chucked over the side. I came to my tent one night and there were six glowing hyena eyes not 5 feet from where I was standing. I knew they couldn’t pass the electric fence that lay between us, but it gave me the chills to see them so close nonetheless! As I turned off my light I heard the swish of their feet in the grass, off to find a more promising site.

We stayed in Kruger Park for three nights. Every morning we got up and left the campground at 5:30AM, came back for a late breakfast, and went out again mid-afternoon.  The family I was with knows I am something of a birder, and were kind enough to stop the car every time we saw an interesting bird on the side of the road. Their 6 year old son also has an interest in birds, so at least they weren’t stopping just for me. I’m beginning to understand how normal people feel around birders though. It wasn’t long before I was thinking “oh yay, another zebra… OH LOOK! A RED-NECKED FRANCOLIN! We’ve only seen a Crested Francolin so far!!!!” We weren’t allowed to leave the car, which makes birding rather difficult, but nevertheless, I saw 38 lifers that trip, which is amazing as it was raining half the time! I won’t bore you with a list, but here are pictures of a couple. The first is, you guessed it, a lilac breasted roller (only this is a juvenile, so he’s not so lilacy just yet)...

Lilac Breasted Roller. When they are adults they have bright blue wings and bright purple chests and wonderfully long tail feathers. The only reason I bothered taking a picture of this one with my small camera is because I couldn’t tell at first WHAT he was.

African Janaca- a bird with unbelievably long toes!

Zebra...

Zebra with a Red-Billed Oxpecker on his back!

For all you mammal lovers. 

And finally, a vervet monkey with his adorable unibrow.

 And now, after a short but amazing holiday, I am back in Beira. I think the best part of being away for a small vacation was the glorious feeling of coming home again that I experienced upon my return. It was my first time being way from Beira since I’ve arrived. I didn’t know how I would feel coming back, but it felt great. Pastor Madeira and his wife waited up for me, even though my plane was several hours late and I didn’t come in until 1AM. I sat down and ate the supper they left out for me, not because I felt obliged to, but because I wanted to. They left a note on my pillow saying “Welcome home! We are happy you are here again!” Sunday morning I slept in late, being exhausted from my much delayed and slightly stressful flight home. I asked if it was OK if I stayed home from church this once. Pastor Madeira said, “that is fine. In fact, that is perfect, you can prepare lunch for us! We will be leaving soon after church to go to a graduation ceremony in the afternoon; you can join us for that. Also, you have homework: have a half-hour devotion time and when I come back, tell me what you learned.” No rest for the wicked!

I was surprised to find when I got home that it was already half way through December! I dug out my Christmas decorations last night: a tiny tree that stands about 15 cm tall, some Christmas tree decorations that dwarf the tree, but oh well, and a string of lights that I put over my mirror. As I was decorating, I cranked the music- nothing brings back memories of putting up the tree at home like Barbara Streisand’s Jingle Bells! Yesterday at the office, I sat enjoying a delicious cup of Sleigh Ride tea from David’s Tea, thanks to my dear sister Janet who sent it from Canada. This time I listened to Bing Crosby & the Andrews sisters and watched the palm trees sway, dreaming of a white Christmas. It’s not that I’m pining for slush covered streets and frozen finger tips, but there is something magical about snow at Christmas time that palm trees can’t quite pull off.

Blessings this Christmas Season

Rebecca

The story of why I stopped telling stories (...and then started again)

Before I get to the bit that explains the title of this post, I do have a couple of stories to share. They were written a few weeks ago, but I never got around to posting them for reasons I’ll share at the end of this post…

Last week was full of excitement at MCC. In our tiny office, we hosted partner meetings attended by 25 people from the region who work with MCC. Being new to MCC and not yet fluent in Portuguese, I was given the option of helping out in the kitchen instead of attending the meetings, which I gladly accepted. Aziza, our cook/housekeeper, was in charge of cooking for 25 people for three days, and did a marvelous job of it! The food was delicious, plentiful, and on time every day! Stephanie (MCC SALT volunteer) and I did whatever Aziza asked of us to help prepare. I cut so many vegetables on Wednesday that I got a blister on my finger! I washed countless plates and cups. I peeled several cups of garlic cloves. My hands smelt like garlic for days afterwards. And for the first time since arriving, I felt helpful, useful, and like I sort of knew what was going on. It was oh so satisfying to be the one standing in the hallway with a towel and a basin in my arms, pouring water so the guests could wash their hands.

Things are ever eventful and exciting in the Madeira household, where I am having my homestay. I went with pastor Madeira, his wife, and Stephanie to visit the church in Mafambisse, a small town not far from Beira. While there, I was greeted by every single member of the church, and consequentially, was kissed on the cheek some 200 times. We’ve started having evening prayer time with everyone in the family at home. The only problem is that sometimes these Bible study times don’t start until 9:30 or 10 at night, by which time my brain has long since shut off. I try my best to be focused and pay attention, but after a whole day of not understanding most of what goes on around me, I eventually hit a wall. One thing I really do enjoy though is the singing that starts off every prayer time. Not that I am particularly good at singing, and I am only beginning to learn the song, but Pastor Madeira is determined to make the 6 of us sing in 4 part harmony. This causes no end of hilarity and laughter because we always fail terribly. The 4-year-old girl can sort of follow the tune; the 11-year-old boy is practicing the bass lines because he likes those best, but obviously doesn’t have the voice for it yet; the teenage boy is still trying to figure out what octave he belongs in; and I am doing my best just to stumble along with the words. None of this lets pastor Madeira down. Sometimes we are made to repeat a song until we get it right (or at least closer to right).

I mentioned to Pastor Madeira last week that I wanted to help out a bit more with chores around the house, but explained that being new, it is hard to know what to do, or how to jump in and help out. Ever the proactive planner, he devised a new dish-washing rotation that has me doing the dinner dishes the following morning every day. It’s nice to be able to help out with something, and I am always up plenty early in the mornings anyway. When my host brother came in the kitchen the other day and saw me finishing the dishes and setting out breakfast, that was the first time he addressed me Mana (sister) Rebecca. I guess I am part of the family now.    

This week I am heading off to Maputo to attend the wedding of a fellow MCCer who is marrying a Mozambican. That is on Saturday. Sunday, I am traveling with another MCC couple and their 5 year old son to Kruger National Park. I’ll be camping there for three days, spending two days in Nelspruit, South Africa, taking a bus to Maputo, and then flying back to Beira on December 14^th. I am looking forward to the vacation. It will be short, but sweet. And, for those of anxiously wondering, I did get my visa process sorted out! Praise God! Still waiting for the final residence paperwork to come through, but there is no time pressure now.

Some of you may have been wondering at my long absence from the blog world, facebook, and my general lack of communication over the month. There is a reason for this. Not necessarily a good one, but a reason. As mentioned in one of my previous posts, the political situation in Mozambique has been tense the past couple of months. There have been attacks on the highways and people are accusing the government of fraud and corruption surrounding recent municipal elections. People have been waiting for leaders of FRELIMO (currently in power) and RENAMO (opposing side in the 16 year civil war that ended in the early 90’s) to meet and begin dialogue to ease the tensions.  Because of this, though I am safe in the city, it has not been possible for me to get out to Machanga, where I am to start teaching next year. The location of the attacks on vehicles on the highway happens to be at the turnoff to the road that eventually leads to Machanga. I admit it has been a bit discouraging not knowing what way the situation would go.  Being in a constant state of uncertainty made it hard to communicate with people at home what my plans are, as they are constantly changing. I was hoping that after a couple weeks it would all blow over and our nice plan would fall smoothly into place. But I have to accept that the Mozambique is going through a significant time, and learn to adapt accordingly; to take joy in the experiences I am having now, the friendships that are growing, and the lessons I am learning. I have so many stories to tell now. I don’t need to wait until I get to Machanga to start telling them.

More to come soon.

Yours truly,

Rebecca

PS photos from the past two months to come soon! I am in the process from trying to get them from a friend. 

The Story of the One and the 59,999

It is exactly one month since I arrived in the city of Beira, Mozambique. It seems like a good time to give a quick update about what exactly I am doing now, and what I hope to be doing in the coming months.

         If details have been a bit vague over the past few weeks, it’s because they are precisely that- vague. Well, maybe not vague so much as constantly changing or uncertain. What is (mostly) certain for now is that I’ll be staying in Beira for the next two months and won’t be going out to Machanga until after Christmas. This turn of events is probably just as well for me; I’ll be able to continue intensive language study and get to know people in the city more. I’m hoping to travel a bit in the beginning of December, but will probably spend Christmas in Beira. Please send Christmas chocolate to the following address: C.P 27, Beira, Moçambique, c/o Mennonite Central Committee.

           Last week, Aziza (who works for MCC in Beira) took me out shopping, showing me around downtown, and most importantly, the best places to buy capulanas. I was brave enough to wear one to MCC this past week. I felt the stares of everyone along the road as I walked to the office, constantly self-conscious and wondering if I was somehow wearing it wrong… until I remembered I am always stared anyways. Though, how I am supposed to know then if I AM actually doing something incorrectly is a mystery to me.  What if someone calls out “Oi amiga!” because I’ve dropped a coin, and not because of the colour of my skin? Would I even notice?

            I had a chance last week to visit my Portuguese teacher’s English class at the local university. He wanted to show his students that they really ARE learning to speak English by giving them the opportunity to converse with a native speaker for the first time. They did very well, and I can sympathize with how nervous they must have felt speaking with someone else while the teacher listened. After their lesson, it was my turn to be put to the test when professor Pinto told me to introduce myself (in Portuguese) to a couple of his colleagues in the language centre. Thankfully these were also teachers, and possessed the wonderful skills of patience, clarity of speech, and the ability to keep the conversation flowing gracefully even when I couldn’t find the right words.

            Learning Portuguese makes up a good part of my week, between actual lessons two hours every day, copious amounts homework, meeting with a conversation partner, and of course, communicating with my host family. My teacher made a comment that to learn a language is to learn a culture. This is true. Of all the things I have learned, nothing has been more important than the simple greetings from lesson 1; greeting which are central to friendship, communication, and respect in this country.

My teacher is also getting a sample of Canadian culture as I talk about “my family,” “what I did last year,” and so on. For example he is mystified as to why Canada still has a queen, and why children will move out of their parent’s house and live alone even before they are married. My Portuguese failed me as I tried to explain, though I’m not so sure I would have much better luck trying to form a succinct response in English either. At one point yesterday as we were discussing traditions, I found myself trying to explain bagpipes… you can guess how well I managed that one! I am learning enough now though to be able to participate in some small-talk. The other day I drew a lovely map of Fredericton, New Brunswick on the chalkboard before class. I was learning about giving directions and places in the city. Aziza (who doesn’t speak English) started asking me questions about it. She asked how many people live there. I told her around 60, 000. She responded with “but now one has left!” meaning me. I replied in spirit by crossing out 60,000, and writing 59,999. She reminded me that even in the big city, each and every one matters. You don’t leave one place without entering another. Everyone who comes and goes as God wills has a purpose- a purpose that starts with knowing people, and by knowing them, to see them through God’s eyes, and by seeing them through God’s eyes, to love them with the love of Christ. 

With you in spirit; your friend who has left New Brunswick to enter Mozambique,

Rebecca

The story of the eagle

I was living in birder’s paradise the past three days. For MCC Mozambique’s annual retreat, we went to a game park in Manica province, near Gorongoza National Park. The game park supports herds of Impala, Kudu, other antelope, a few buffalo, warthogs, monkeys, baboons, some lions, and the occasional herd of elephants. The game park normally entertains hunters, but they were happy to accommodate us for our 3 day retreat. Getting there was a bit of excitement. We left town around 9:30 for what as supposed to be a 6 hour drive. It took 12. The sun was setting at 6 as we turned into the long private road leading from town to the camp, and we were pushing it maybe a bit too fast. Then suddenly a large animal burst from the bush and hit our van!  Thankfully we weren’t hurt, and the animal ran away, but in the battle between kudu and vehicle, our van lost. It refused to move forward. After a couple hours the driver managed to get it going again, but after we’d only traveled a couple minutes, it stopped again. The kids curled up in the back and we prepared to wait for rescue, but with no cell phone reception, we knew that could be a while in coming. And knowing we were in a game park, we weren’t about to WALK out into the night in search of help. Thankfully, Aziza had packed ample food and water for the trip. As Joao put it: “we have food, water, and good spirit. What more do we need?”

Help did come. Some other MCCers who had arrived earlier in the day with their own truck decided to drive up the road towards town until they reached cell phone reception, and found us along the way. They did get the van moving again and we all reached camp safely.

Every morning at 6 AM we would go on game drives along the endless kilometers of paths that wound their way through the bush. Sadly we didn’t see any elephants, though a couple of people did say they saw a lion. The region was hilly and dry, with low widely spaced trees, and denser vegetation around the water sources. Summer was just arriving and the leaves were beginning to emerge. As a birder, this was perfect as the birds weren’t lost among the foliage and I was able to see some migrants coming through. I tried to keep it down to 15 lifers a day! For those of you who haven’t been hanging around birders long enough to know what a lifer is, it is a species that you see for the first time in your life, and definitely a noteworthy occasion. To see 45 in a three-day span was AMAZING. One afternoon we went for a walk on a dry riverbed, and saw where elephants were digging for water hidden below the sand. We heard a Greater Honeyguide calling at us from the banks of the river. If we were to have followed their call through the woods they would have lead us straight to a bee-hive full of honey. There has been a long understanding between these birds and people that when you harvest the honey, you will reciprocate by leaving some of the comb for the bird.

Stephanie (MCC SALTer in Machanga) and me standing in the midst of muddy elephant tracks at the water's edge.

 One time, I stopped the car to point out a large eagle sitting in a tree not far from the path. Eric (another MCCer from Canada), our Afrikaans guide, and myself were peering through our binoculars for a good 5 minutes, trying to figure out what species of eagle it was. Joao (MCC Mozambique national staff member) turned to me and said, with a hint of a smile in the corner of his mouth: why don’t you just ask the bird what he’s called? I laughed heartily at his joke and I turned back to Sinclair’s Guide to the Bird’s of Southern Africa.  But was it just a joke? Mozambicans have a most cunning sense of humour that can make a crowd of people burst into laughter and at the same time reveal the deepest of truths. Of course the bird knows who he is. He doesn’t need Sinclair’s Guide to the Birds of Southern Africa to tell him that. If it doesn’t matter to him if he had a grey instead of yellow bill, why does it matter to us? Why are we the only ones who aren’t satisfied with the answer to the Ultimate Question and why do we insist on trying to answer it for every other living thing as well?

After much debating and consulting of various bird guides, we decided it was a Wahlberg’s Eagle.

Driving along the dry river bed, close to where we saw the Wahlberg's Eagle.

The highlight of the retreat was probably the night we drove up to the top of a mountain and watched the sun set over the trees. It was breathtaking beyond description. After, we sang songs around a campfire and ate a delicious supper of wild game. We watched the moon rise, so bright and full that it almost (but not quite fully) obscured the stars.

 And so, I have fallen in love with Africa. With the unmatchable beauty of the wild; with the wit, wisdom, and song of the people. It will be a long journey as I seek to understand the past of this country, feel the rhythm, discover just what it is I am here to do, and become aware of the hopes people have for the future. But if ever I get lost along the way and find myself wondering who am I and what is my purpose here? I’ll remember to keep in good spirit and take a lesson from the eagle. 

The story of the time I watched the sun set over the Indian Ocean

As many of you know, a couple weeks ago, on the 10^th of October, was my 24^th birthday. The 11^th happened to be my host brother’s second birthday, so we decided to celebrate both our birthdays on Saturday. They asked if I would like to make some Canadian food and make a Canadian cake on Saturday. I thought we were just having a small celebration with the 5-6 of us. However, Saturday morning arrived, and there were several chickens in the sink, and an entire bag of potatoes being peeled. I made my brownies, but then my host mother made two more cakes as well. People kept arriving, helping to prepare food. We were at it from 7 AM until 6PM. Most of that time I was just sitting there watching, but I probably spent at least 1 ½ hours throughout the morning peeling tiny cloves of garlic. By the time we ate, there were 30-40 people in the small apartment. The table was loaded with 4 different kinds of meat, homemade samosas, French fries, my spaghetti, rice and beans, salads, and, of course, cake. I was starving by the time we ate, having skipped lunch. There was a lot of people, a lot of noise, a lot of dancing, a lot of conversation I didn’t understand. I was ready for bed by the time people started leaving at 8:30!

The party was fun, but my actual birthday was not all that exciting. I spent the entire morning in the immigration office with a couple of the MCC staff trying to sort out the visa and residency process. Apparently I was mistakenly given a business visa instead of a residential one when I applied from Canada. To fix this problem, I’ll have to go across the border into Zimbabwe next week, re-apply for a visa, and then re-start the immigration process. We are not sure yet how this might affect when I get to go out to Machanga.  The pastor who took me to the immigration office commented that it is a birthday I’ll be sure to remember!

Despite the frustrations of the Thursday, I did, however, have a very nice evening on Friday. Jana, the MCC Mozambique country rep, took me to a café that sits on the beach. We sat there and watched the sun set over the ocean and had a really nice evening just chatting and getting to know one another. 

And so ended my second week in Mozambique; the sound of the waves and the smell of the sea carrying me forward as I look ahead to the next three years. 

The story of the time I threw my watch out the window.

I arrived in Mozambique last Tuesday evening. I was greeted at the airport by Jana, MCC’s country representative in Mozambique, and Pastor Madeira, from the church MCC partners with here. The seaside city of Beira is to be my home for the next month until I go to the rural district of Machanga. This past week I have been having in-country orientation with MCC, had my first Portuguese lesson on Thursday, met the leaders of the United Church of Christ in Mozambique- American Board (of which Pastor Madeira is the president), and got to meet the rest of the MCC team working here in the city of Beira. I was very fortunate that MCC was able to find me a home-stay for my first month in Mozambique. I am staying with Pastor Madeira and his family.

There’s nothing quite like living with a host family for getting involved in what’s going on in the community.  Friday was a public holiday; the day of Peace and Reconciliation in Mozambique. 21 years ago, the Rome peace accord was signed, ending a 16 year civil war between RENAMO and FRELIMO that was heavily influenced by outside parties. Now, the celebration is still going strong, a testament to the deep desire Mozambicans had to see peace in their country. We joined a long march across the city- there was much singing and dancing the whole way. The singing and dancing didn’t stop when we arrived at the indoor arena where we crammed onto the bleachers for a series of speeches and songs from choirs. That part might have been more interesting if I had been able to understand Portuguese, or if I had been able to see anything besides the backs of the people standing in front of me, but it was a valuable experience to be a part of and gave me a glimpse of the current political swing in this region.

The excitement didn’t end Friday. On Saturday, I went with Pastor Madeira and his 5 year old daughter Laura to a concert in honour of the day of Peace and Reconciliation. We arrived just before 9:00 AM- we wanted to be a bit early because Pastor Madeira was supposed to open in prayer. Three hours later it still hadn’t started and we had to leave because he was officiating a wedding starting at 1 and we had yet to go home and eat lunch. But just because the South African star of the show was delayed several hours didn’t mean there was no music while we waited… the band was jamming on stage and people from the crowd took turns going up to sing. At one point Laura was dancing on stage with the members of another choir that was to sing later.

As we were leaving, Pastor Madeira said rather apologetically “Things like this probably don’t happen in Canada, right?” I was about to tell the story of the time I was supposed to go to a Tree 63 concert in New Brunswick but it was cancelled last minute because the members of the band couldn’t enter the country (they hadn’t realized their visas expired)… until I realized Tree 63 is from South Africa. I remember last year hearing about a Justin Bieber concert that started a few hours late… but that made international headlines. But on the other hand, I still got to hear some great music and I got to meet a lot of people while we were waiting, including the mayor of Beira. That doesn’t happen in Canada either.

The wedding only started 20 minutes after the set time, so it is good we rushed home and ate quickly. Not 4 days in the country and I’ve already been to a wedding. Compared to the weddings I went to in Cambodia, this one was much more familiar to what I’m used to at home, but with lots more singing and dancing. I got home around 8 in the evening, thoroughly exhausted, but thoroughly happy. I was sitting in my bed reading when one of the kids poked his head around the corner and said “you don’t want to come talk, you’d rather stay and sleep?” I said yes. There will be time for talking tomorrow.

Time. Last week, I heard a young Ugandan man share this bit of wisdom: “white people have watches, Africans have time.”

This week I’ve spent so much time doing “nothing”. Waiting forever in line at the grocery store watching people cut in front of me (one guy was nice enough to ask first… was I supposed to say no?), waiting for a concert that didn’t start, waiting for the meal to begin at the wedding, sitting at the dinner table every day not understanding the conversation going on around me, crossing the city squished in the back of chapa (mini-van public transport), standing lost and alone in the middle of the crowd at the Peace celebration, watching TV in Portuguese with my host family, waiting for someone to take me home from the MCC office because I don’t know how to navigate there on my own yet. It is a humbling exercise in patience. Not that it has been too challenging for me; I’m pretty easy going when it comes to time. But for once I don’t have a pile of things to do to fill my time when I have nothing to do. At home, when not doing something “important”, how much of my time would be spent on Facebook? Baking or cooking food I’m not really hungry for? Answering emails that could just as easily wait for tomorrow? Watching Survivor reruns? I like to think I’m so efficient and productive with most of my time that the rest of it I need to let my mind take a break and do something mindless (cue Survivor re-runs). But how often do I just do nothing? How often do I have a chance to sit back and observe the people and culture and life around me? To learn a language just by listening to locals speak? To show my appreciation and commitment to people by just being present? To reflect on what a complex and beautiful experience getting to know a new culture truly is?

I’ve spent more than enough time blogging for one day. Until next week!

Yours truly.

The story of how I watched the sun rise over the Zambezi River gorge.

The story of how I watched the sun rise over the Zambezi river gorge.

Once again I want to welcome you to my blog, where I hope to post stories every few weeks about my time in Mozambique and the surrounding region, and beyond.

First of all, I want to thank you all for your prayers and support as I finished pulling together everything I needed before leaving Canada. I got my final immunization AND my motorcycle driver’s license just 24 hours before leaving the country. Talk about leaving things till the last minute! But despite that extra stress in my last few days, everything has gone smoothly.

I safely arrived in Livingstone, Zambia, after 43 hours of traveling, which included two practically sleepless nights. I was very pleased, not to mention surprised, that both my bags arrived in Livingstone the same time I did! With the four flights it took to get me there, I didn’t have high hopes! I’m afraid I was a bit out of it my first few days here, but feel much more engaged and energized now. I’m in Zambia to attend a Farming God’s Way training, which will hopefully provide me with some useful skills as I move into my assignment in Mozambique. Farming God’s Way is a tool that incorporates Biblical principles, management skills, and scientific understanding, helping farmers to farm with dignity as stewards of God’s creation.

It has been a most instructive time for me, not only with respect to the principles (which can be applied to any area of life, not just farming), but also as a valuable introduction to living and working in this region of Africa. The week long training session was an opportunity to equip emerging trainers, and to do this we also went into three villages where local people could come and receive training in Farming God’s Way. Since this was my first experience with Farming God’s Way, I was mainly observing. Perhaps the most valuable experience for me was having a chance to talk to some of the local people who also came to learn about farming God’s Way and hear their stories.  It was inspiring to hear about their hopes for the future, and how they believe Farming God’s Way has the potential to change their knowledge, attitude, and actions, and lead to a more abundant life in Christ.  To begin to develop a relationship with some of the people there, even in the few short days we had, was a real privilege.

Myself and 30 or so other Farming God’s Way non-local trainees are being hosted at Overland Missions Base an hour on dirt roads outside of Livingstone. The missions base, overlooking the Zambezi river gorge, provides a relaxing and inspiring environment to which we come back to every evening after spending the day in the community, gardening in the hot, hot sun. Friday afternoon we were all back early and decided to escape the heat by jumping in the river for a swim. It took over half and hour to scramble down the loose rocky walls of the gorge to reach the water, but it was well worth it. It was gloriously refreshing to plunge into the river. We had a harder time convincing some of our African friends to join us in the water. They were wary (and probably rightly so) of crocodiles in the water. Crocs are quite common in some parts of the Zambezi river, which flows over Victoria Falls not far from where we are staying (by the way, I got to see the falls the day after arriving here. They were beautiful, but the water was extremely low, especially on the Zambian side of the falls). Back to the crocs…. Several people who live in South Africa and have been here before pointed out that the steep walled gorge is hardly the preferred location for crocs, so we’d be safe. After all, it’s not every day you can say you swam in the Zambezi river!

For those of you wondering, despite the dryness of the region, the birding is excellent, especially around sunrise. Just yesterday I solved a mystery that had been bugging everyone- each morning there is a sound that is EXACTLY the beeping sound of a truck or bulldozer backing up. Some people thought there was construction going on a ways down river. But yesterday I saw the little critter in action. A Grey-Headed Bushshrike calling from a tree on the very edge of the gorge, his voice carrying effortlessly through the still morning air.

I’m off on Sunday to go to Johannesburg for two days to visit the Mennonite Central Committee Regional Representatives, after which I will fly to Beira, Mozambique!

Yours truly

Rebecca

For those of you interested in learning more, check out http://www.farming-gods-way.org

Peering over the lip of Victoria falls on the Zambia side- the water was so low that we were able to walk out quite a ways where there is usually a sheet of water. 

Women from Livuyu community just outside of Livingstone preparing Teren ropes, used for measuring the optimal maize plant spacing. 

Bishop Michael leads the community in digging planting stations- instead of ploughing, individual stations are dug. Compost is added directly to the hole and everything is prepared for the seeds to be planted at the first rains. No-till agriculture helps conserve the soil structure, organic matter, organisms, and water retention.

Sunrise over the Zambezi river gorge

Rapid 14 on the Zambezi river. The wide section in the bottom left corner is where we went swimming. 

Welcome

Hello, and welcome to my blog, chronicling my adventures to Mozambique and beyond. Below is a story I wrote reflecting my personal and spiritual growth over this past year in Cambodia. I am really excited to be heading off to Mozambique now with Mennonite Central Committee, starting a program to teach agriculture to high school students.

Check back in a couple of weeks for updates about my journey to Africa and the start of my orientation and training there. Please keep me in prayer as I head into this time of transition, new cultural experiences, and language learning as I get ready to serve in Mozambique for three years. On the right-hand bar, you can sign up to receive notification of new posts by email, or just send me a message at rastanden@gmail.com and I will make sure you know whenever there is a new post.

If you want to hear more about my adventures in Cambodia this past year, check out my old blog at rebeccasricepaddy@blogspot.com

All the best,
Rebecca

The story of how the story began

Once there was a girl named Rebecca; this is the story of her remarkable adventure. The story begins rather unremarkably, in the little town of Riverview, with a little girl who loved nothing better than listen to stories; stories of daring adventure and courage, stories of normal people who find themselves in extraordinary circumstances, stories of facing challenges, taking risks, and coming out stronger.

 Her favourite place to read and get lost in these stories was in her cushy blue chair, curled up with her favourite cat, surrounded by shelves and shelves of her favourite books. It was no secret that she loved reading stories, but what was a secret (so secret she hardly even knew it herself) was that she desperately wished she could be brave and full of confidence like the heroes in the stories. But, this secret aside, she was ever so comfortable and happy in this room with her cat and her books, and never really wished to leave.

 Ever since she could remember, in the corner of the room half-hidden between the bookcases, stood a beautifully carved wardrobe. She would often look up while reading and gaze at the wardrobe and let her mind wander. One day, she put down her book and walked over to the wardrobe. She cracked open the door and peeped inside. She was immediately swept away by a glimpse of an incredible adventure that was going on in a world inside the wardrobe. That glimpse at once lasted a moment and a lifetime. She pulled her head back breathless, and closed the door.

 Over the years she revisited the wardrobe, venturing further and further in; first just sticking her head around the corner, then walking in but keeping a firm grip on the door, and always, always returning to her safe comfortable room. And what a story, what an adventure it was. Through the wardrobe, she went places she’d never dreamed of, and with the help of others faced challenges and grew in confidence. She soon discovered that this was not just any story, but the greatest story ever, told by the greatest story-teller. It was a story of unquenchable love, ultimate sacrifice, everlasting truth, and overflowing with hope and peace. And yet, ever a creature of habit, she never lost sight of the door and always returned to the comfort of her cozy chair before too long had passed.

 One day, the door opened for her to go on an adventure unlike any other she had been on before. The story-teller invited her to come along, on the condition that this time she let go of the wardrobe door handle and follow him, deep inside, far out of sight of her warm chair and her stacks of books. Though the adventures inside the wardrobe were not always safe, by now she knew that if she could trust anyone, it was the story teller, so without hesitation, she said yes. Not once on this adventure did she regret her decision. She found it wasn’t nearly so hard as she thought it would be. The more she trusted in the story teller, she better she got to know the story, the more it became less about her and more about the story teller, and the more she fell in love with the story.

 After being in the wardrobe for a very long time, she started thinking again about that small room with her comfy chair and her cat, and her books. It was probably time to be getting back again. Wasn’t it? Back to the predictability and happiness of what she knew before. There were favourite old stories on the shelf she was longing to pick up again, and ones with promising titles she hadn’t yet had time to explore. The desire to return was strong; to breathe in the reasuring smell of books well loved; books so familiar they were old friends. Stories that you could just sit and enjoy; that didn’t ask much of you in return. But she was torn. She would be the first to admit that since stepping inside and letting go of the door, she had grown and changed more than ever before, and actually got to be a part of the most remarkable adventure. But it is time to go back. It must be. Or is it? Was it even possible to go back?

While these thoughts were spinning in her head, the story teller came over to visit her. Together they went on a walk deep into a beautiful forest that smelled of old pine and new sunshine. “You can stay here, you know” said the story-teller. “You don’t have to go back, you can stay here. I would love nothing more than for you to stay here. You know it won’t be predictable. Some of those old stories you love you’ll not see again in this life, and some of those titles you were looking forward to may fade away unopened and untouched. I can’t tell you where this adventure will bring you, or what the story will look like on the way. But what I can promise you is I WILL give you all you need, and more. I promise to give you unshakable confidence, joy so deep that it will be mistaken for adventurousness, and peace so complete that people will call you brave. “

She stopped short, and turned to face the story teller. It was as though all along he had known the desires of her heart. More than that, he knew her nature, and knew what it would take to coax her out of that room and into true life. Without saying a word, she nodded once. She dropped her eyes and a tear slid down her cheek. She had suspected this was coming for a while, but it was still not easy. She was filled with joy at the thought of spending the rest of her life in the heart of the story teller’s story, but for a moment, she also mourned the loss of her room full of books, her cat, her chair; these that had been her anchor for so long. She knew she was giving up the certainty of ever seeing them again in this life. To her surprise, she found that that was OK. In fact, it was more than OK. She felt the cool firm ground beneath her feet, wriggling her bare toes in the pine needles. As the river flowed alongside the path, peace flooded her soul. The warm sun lit a spark of joy in her eyes. She turned back to the story-teller and said, “What’s next?”

And so the story began.