Comings and Goings

There has been lots going on over the past few months; many comings and goings. To save time I thought I’d sit down and just write briefly about them all at once, with lots of pictures. 

In July I WENT on vacation.

I don’t go on vacation often; there aren’t many places to go when you are a single young lady with no travel buddy. True, the Peace Corps Volunteers always find ways to travel around, but their stories generally start with “one day I was hitch-hiking…” However, in the first week of July I had my chance. A fellow Canadian MCC worker was driving down south through Mozambique with her Mozambican colleague, and I met them on the highway near Machanga. Getting to the highway was an adventure in itself. I had to bike 40 mins to town with all my bags, leave my bike at my friend’s house, walk 30 mins to the river, cross in a tiny dug-out canoe, walk again to the town on the other side, wait an hour in the open bed of a pick-up truck “bus” for it to leave, and suffer the hour long bumpy ride to the main highway squeezed between two strangers. But I met my friends no problem and had a lovely couple days on the beach.

On one of mozambique's beautiful southern beaches in Inhambane province. It was still winter, hence the sweater, but we went for a swim nonetheless! 

The crossing to Mambone as I leave Machanga. Imagine this same boat with 5-6 passengers... thankfully the river is shallow an it is possible to walk most of the way in case the boat capsizes.

Grace CAME to visit me!

After the beach, my friend and I bused even further south, crossed into South Africa, and picked up my little sister from OR Tambo International Airport in Johannesburg. She traveled all the way to South Africa on her own to come visit me! Braver than I was at 16. We toured around Kruger National Park for a couple days. She couldn’t come all the way here and not see the animals! Also, it was a good excuse for me to get in some excellent birding.

Saddle-billed storks. Aren't those the craziest looking birds? 

Southern Yellow-billed hornbill. Credit for the bird pictures goes to Grace Standen.

Go Pirates, Go! Grace, my friend Natasha and I were invited to a soccer game by a South African woman we met in a taxi. The three of us were the only white people in the ENTIRE stadium, but the atmosphere was incredible. 

Grace and I CAME to Machanga

Grace and I then came back to Machanga together. Having people visit is so special. First of all, it gets lonely here. You can tell people all you want about Canada, about your family at home, but they feel so far away. With Grace I laughed more in a day than I do in two weeks by myself. Having a visitor also lets me see things through new eyes; Mozambican culture, my work, language, food, goats. It is refreshing and encouraging.  And finally, there is now someone at home who has a better idea of Mozambique, what my life is like here, and the work MCC does.

Grace and I hanging out on the beach in Beira, Mozambique. 

Grace at my home in Machanga learning how to grate coconut and killing it. 

We spent a lot of time during her week or so in Machanga going around visiting my students. Here she is with Isabel Armando in her vegetable garden. It was fun to show off my little sister to all my friends here. Also funny that many couldn't tell who was older because Grace is much taller than me. 

Grace WENT home and I WENT to the USA

Sadly, Grace went at the end of July, and on the same day I also went to the States to MCC US’s headquarters in Akron, PA. I attended MCC’s leadership seminar. Why was I sent to attend an MCC leadership seminar, you ask? Well, let me tell you. I’ve landed a new position with MCC starting in January 2016. I will be co-facilitator of MCC’s Seed Program in Southern Africa. MCC has a number of young adult exchange programs, and if you haven’t heard of Seed yet, you will hopefully hear more of it in the future. It started in Colombia several years ago, then Bolivia, and next year there are two new programs starting; one in the DRC and one in Southern Africa. Basically, it sprung from the idea that one year exchanges are not long enough, and there needs to be purposeful learning and reflection for the experience to be meaningful to the individual, and meaningful to MCC’s partners and program as a whole. In January I will go to Zimbabwe where I will co-facilitate the program in Southern Africa. The participants will come from all 6 countries where MCC works in Southern Africa (Mozambique, Zimbabwe, Zambia, Swaziland, Lesotho, and South Africa) and one or two participants from North America. They will be working with MCC partners for two years in those same 6 countries (though not the country where they are originally from). All of the work will be focused existing conservation agriculture projects. They will also participate in extensive orientation, learning, and reflection sessions. This program combines four things I love most: learning, leadership development, agriculture, and MCC!

Also, I WENT to Colombia

As a part of my preparation for this new position, I and the other new facilitators went to Colombia to visit the existing program there. How neat is that? We were all slightly reassured when we realized that none of us really knew what we’d gotten into. Despite how over-whelming and intense the job promises to be, being at once program facilitator, mentor, administrator, friend, it also promises to be a time of learning, stretching, and hopd for MCC, me, and the participants.

Every meal in Colombia is accompanied with a glass (or in this case plastic pitcher) of fresh homemade juice. So many delicious fruits I'd never even heard of before!

Not only did we learn about the Seed program, but we got to experience a taste of MCC's work with partners in Colombia as well. Sembrando Paz works with rural communities wanting to rebuild their lives and culture after years of war and violence. We were greeted by a lovely group of girls doing a traditional dance. 

Unexpected encounters! Several years ago my grandmother Irma Penner visited Colombia as a part of a Mennonite sister church program. I was the great joy of meeting up with pastor Ricardo and his family which I was in Colombia.

The gardens WENT

During the three weeks I was away in the US and Colombia, cows came in and completely destroyed the fields where my students were working. Life is tough here, and you can’t blame it all on poverty, climate, and corruption. These cows belong to people, and people let them wander freely and jump in other people’s fenced gardens during the night. Why don’t people keep their cows somewhere else? There are laws to this effect, but they are rarely, if ever enforced. The problem is extreme this year because so little rain meant that normal pasture land in the bush has long since dried up, and the gardens are the only edible thing in sight for miles around. Goats also got into our garden behind the church that I’d been working with Amelia, the pastor’s wife. All that was left when I got back were onions and some carrots. At least I can afford to buy replacement tomatoes, kale, cabbage, and lettuce when they are available in the market. But most people in Machanga will not eat another vegetable until February after it rains.   

Grace in my students' garden in July- beautiful growth! 

The exact same garden not three weeks later. 

The last of our carrot harvest. we had been taking them out of the ground as we wanted to eat, but goats became so desperate they started digging and chomping the tops off all the carrots, as you can see in the picture above. 

My two year anniversary in Mozambique CAME and WENT last Thursday

Over two years in Mozambique gone and less than two months left.

When's the last time you washed all your shoes? This is one of the many habits I've picked up during my two years in Mozambique. 

I’M COMING HOME IN DECEMBER

Saving the best news for last. Yes, I have signed myself up for another two and a half years of this craziness with MCC, but I AM coming home for a month over Christmas. I will see you all mid-December! 

Teaching in Mozambique

I know that many of you, my dear fans, are teachers. I’ve always thought I’d enjoy teaching as well, therefore it is hardly surprising to me that I´ve landed a teaching position here in Mozambique. Here is a story of a typical day teaching in Mozambique.  However, it turns out this is less a story about teaching than about learning.

I teach English and Conservation Agriculture courses a couple times a week in various communities around the rural district of Machanga. This is a project through the local church, and my students are all farmers from the community.

Getting to class. After being here a couple months, I learned that the way to get around in Machanga is by the corta-matos (short-cuts, or literally bush-cuts). Narrow dirt tracks that cut through fields and skirt cleanly swept yards. Paths which have been in use long before there was a “proper” road, district offices, or government school in the area. I’m not convinced that these winding and bumpy tracks are any quicker or easier than the dirt road, but the path you know is always the shortest. These “short-cuts” do have two distinct advantages over the main road- there is much less dust, and the scenery is lovely.  

Taking attendance. In Canada, attendance is always taken at the beginning of class. I soon realized that would be a hopeless exercise with my students. I am lucky to have five students show up half an hour after the agreed start time. Throughout the hour long class people continue to dribble in. In a desperate attempt to get students to show up on time I even started passing by their houses on my way to class to let them know it was time. It didn’t really help. Once, I threatened to start taking attendance at the beginning of class to encourage them to show up on time. There was a pause, and then we all burst out laughing like that was the most ridiculous idea.

Mrs. Teacher. It is normal here for teachers to be addressed as Teacher or Mr./Mrs. Teacher (Senhora Professora), not using their name at all. This has always sounded so formal to my ears, but I am getting used to it. Machanga is a small town- everywhere I go I hear it: “Senhora Professora!” I tried to teach my English students to call me Miss Rebecca, but it hasn’t stuck. One of my agriculture students is a farmer and leader in the church, old enough to be my grandfather. I’ll never forget the day he started addressing me as Menina Professora (Girl Teacher) instead of Senhora Professora (Mrs. Teacher); it always brings a smile to my face, and makes my other students laugh. For anyone else to say that would be so disrespectful. Being an outsider, I don’t automatically fit in to the normal social structure that governs how people relate to one another, and thus address one another. There are three criteria that make you a senhora instead of a menina. To be married, to have a child, or to be over 35. I am none of those, so I guess he is right.

Teaching and learning in a second language. Though Portuguese is the official language of Mozambique, brought here by colonialism, it is spoken at home by very few, especially in the countryside. There are nearly 30 languages or local dialects recognized in Mozambique. In Machanga, kids learn Portuguese in school, but without the need or opportunity to practice it outside of classes, it is little used. A good number of my students, especially women, speak very little, if any, Portuguese. I often get someone to summarize what we’ve been discussing in Ndau. Explaining in Ndau without the benefit (or crutch?) of technical terms shows that my volunteer translators understand the concepts well, and ensure that everyone is following along.  There is always a round of laughs when they teach me a Ndau “word of the day.” Though I can’t make a complete sentence in Ndau, I know many useful words, such as planting, hoe, grasshopper, and cow manure.

Chalk, string, and a handful of seeds. These are the things I bring with me to teach class. I write key points for my students to copy on a chalk board, when I have one (which is not always). I make sure to keep it to the point. Many of my students never studied past grade 5; though they carefully copy every word, I know the majority will never go back and read their notes again. Of far greater value are the analogies and stories I tell, and of course, our practical lessons in the field. You’d be surprised how many cooking and family references you can make in an agriculture class. If too many people eat from the same plate, there won’t be enough food (don’t plant maize and beans in the same hole). In June we headed out to the field. The string we used for making straight lines and measuring- using our limited space efficiently while giving everything enough space to grow. The handful of seeds were used many times on the soft dirt floor of our classroom to imagine different intercropping and relay cropping scenarios (how can we grow more than one thing in the field to ensure the ground is always covered? to improve the soil? to reduce risk of crop failure?). No textbooks. No curriculum. No Smartboards. I had to google my own teaching resources. Every day, every class, I am learning.

It is incredibly humbling and challenging teaching something my students have been doing for longer than I’ve been alive. For longer than my parents have been alive. How do I even begin? They look at me expecting answers for their agriculture woes, of which there are many. How do I bring them to believe their knowledge and experience is not only valuable, but vital if they are to have any success increasing food production? I have read of and seen conservation methods that could take steps towards improving the soil and increasing yields on small farms, but how do I introduce these techniques in a way that honours what people know, recognizes where people are at, and is meaningful enough to adopt?

I often feel inadequate to the task. But someone told me teachers do feel that way. Maybe that is what makes a good teacher, someone who is never satisfied that they’ve got it figured out- whose driving passion is not in teaching, but in learning.

All of these photos are from my students in the community of Chinhuque. They are some of the most dedicated to applying conservation agriculture methods we learn.  It's not all fun and games in my classes- we work hard in the field too! 

Felismina and I in front of her plot. Once the lettuce is ready to eat, she'll pull it out and the cabbage will have more room to spread out- vegetable intercropping!

I'm not sure what I'm more happy about- the beautiful nutritious kale that my students are growing, or the lovely mulching! 

Papa Mandevo, the one who calls me girl teacher. He worked really hard on mulching as well and is proud of his garden. 

Agriculture is for everyone. Though agriculture is not typically the work of young men here, Paulo has really engaged in the agriculture classes and did not give up on his garden even when cows invaded the field, water became scarce, and almost all the others left. 

Farming and Church and Hot Chocolate

As I mentioned in ost, the host of blife-skills that I’ve acquired during my adventures overseas smoothed tkilometersfor my transition to Machanga, but one can only be so prepared. There are inevitably challenges along the way. So you don’t think that Machanga is all sunshine and coconut trees, I’ll take a moment share some of the rocky bits that come my way.

Life as an MCC service worker is not for the faint of heart my friends. The shear size and number of strange insects one encounters here would send a more fearful person running back for the comfort of Canada. In Canada, where there are no scorpions and no terrifying spiders the size of your palm that run fast as lightening. In Canada, where most people think snakes are interesting not deadly. My neighbours now know when they hear strange shrieks and yells coming from my house it is probably just a creepy inspect and they come take care of it, since obviously I can’t handle it on my own. Thankfully, I also have a cat who I’ve seen take down one of the previously mentioned spiders and EAT THE WHOLE THING. All in all, I’m in good hands.

You may laugh, or think I’m not being serious, but a real challenge for me is constantly being the centre of attention. To always be noticed, to always be watched, to always have people ask if your hair is real. For someone who generally aims to stay OUT of the spotlight, it can be trying at times. How I long to just be normal. Some days I deal with this better than others. Most of the time I smile and say hello to all the little kids like we haven’t done this 100’s of times. But some days I just can’t.

This story does not show me at my best, but it is worth the telling. One day I was cycling home and a little kid came up on the road behind me on her bicycle. She was maybe 10 or 12 years old. She started following really close behind me. I tried to start a conversation, but it didn’t get much beyond hellos. I was beginning to get annoyed. What was supposed to be a calm and solitary bike ride home was turning out to be neither of those. Like the mean, awful person I am, I stopped cycling on the pretence of answering my phone, though no one called. The girl slowed down but eventually had to pass me. I started biking again, following right on her back wheel. She turned around, obviously not liking it. I asked her “What’s wrong? I’m following you, don’t you like it?” She replied, “No.” I said, “Why not?” She answered, “It’s not very nice.” She turned into her driveway and I continued on home finally alone, if not calm. I felt bad; she was just a kid. I should have been the grown-up. But I think we both learned something that day about respect and loving our neighbours.

Some challenges make life difficult, other make life fun and interesting. Take language for example. I have a bit of a knack for learning languages. I haven’t gone at it with my usual fervor this time, but every little bit I have picked up helps. Many of my agriculture students are people from the community and a good number of them speak less Portuguese than I do, even though Portuguese is the official language that it is used in schools. It makes classes interesting; I try create a learning space where discussion can happen freely in both languages, and will often ask someone to translate the more important concepts into Ndau. Every week I make a point to learn a couple new words in Ndau that relate to agriculture. I may not be able to ask how much the shrimp costs, but I do know the words for mulch, animal manure, plants, goats, ploughing, and watering.

Perhaps the most difficult challenge for me is communicating to my Mozambican friends acquaintances what is difficult and stressful for me, and what isn’t. Let me give an example. The day before Easter Sunday I got up at 4 AM and went with Amelia, the pastor’s wife, to her field. It took around an hour to walk there. I helped her harvest maize for a few hours and even carried some back on my head. I had a wonderful morning: the fields are beautiful at sunrise, I learned about harvesting maize, I discovered how serious the lack of rain really was this year and saw how the harvest suffered because of it, I spent time chatting with a good friend as we worked, I gained a deeper respect for how hard women must work in order to feed their families.  I tried to ignore the curious stares from the people we passed on the way home; me with my small bag of maize perched on my head. Amelia translated some of their comments and questions for me; “what is that white girl doing? Why is that white girl suffering working in the fields?” They didn’t get it. How could they? I’m not even sure I knew what I was doing there, but I do know the value of what I learned that morning.

That same evening there was a church service to bring in Easter Sunday. It didn’t start until 10:30 PM. Crammed on a small bench, pressed on both sides by other people in a dark room, loud music, drums, stuffy hot air, no one apparently in charge and no obvious program other than singing and dancing, not understanding a word of what going on because it was all in Ndau, the prospect of all this continuing until 6 AM… I just couldn’t do it! I managed to last an hour and a half before I told people I was tired and slipped out. I’m pretty sure there were tears of exhaustion in my eyes as I closed the door to my house and kicked of my shoes. How could they stand that for so many hours, so late at night?? You call harvesting maize suffering?! We’ve come a long way Mozambique and I, but there are still some kinks in our relationship that need to be worked out with patience and love, and occasionally a big steaming mug of hot chocolate.

Poster shot of me carying maize on my head. By the end of our hour long treck back from the field it felt like 25 kg, though I'm sure it couldn't have been much more than 5.  

the road to my house as it was one afternoon as i was cycling home from teaching. There were still a couple kilometers to go when i took this picture. I made it back but only just.