Tuesday was Universidade Eduardo Mondlane, Wednesday was election day

On Tuesday my group went to the Universidade Eduardo Mondlane again. My teammates and I spent some time on reflection and goal setting, then we waited to see our newfound contact at the school — a cheery Portuguese teacher who goes by his surname Goba. I found it hard to focus on new acquaintances and student perspectives…I was anxious to walk only steps away to the office of the director of the Social Sciences Faculty, Dr. Armando Jorge Lopes, to see if I could meet with him and pick his brain on sociolinguistics in Mozambique.

I wasn’t given the chance to talk to Mr. Lopes. It is one of my biggest regrets of the trip. Lopes has done extensive work documenting and analyzing the state of Mozambican languages, has published dozens of articles and written five books – along with being a contributing author to several books. He was Editor-in-Chief of the Linguistics Association for SADC (Southern African Development Community) Universities in 13 African countries. I have tried to read everything available to me that he has written, including a somewhat authoritative 40 page article from 1998 entitled: “The Language Situation in Mozambique”. It’s one of the most interesting things I’ve read on the country.

I haven’t been able to find any of his books. I can look harder. And I will. I wouldn’t mind having some of his books in my permanent collection.*

*in case this post was missing an added dose of pretension

I trudged back to our table. My disappointment was soon lifted by talking to some students that Goba had corralled for us to interview. We went to a small room on the second floor of the Social Sciences building. It was a shared space, clearly meant for group work or faculty meetings. A small office at the end of the space was locked, and inside I could see FRELIMO posters lying face up on the desk.

The open topic for our interviews with the students was about their reflections on education in Mozambique. I didn’t know what to expect. The students were looking at us inquisitively in much the same way – some looks were closer to amusement, others closer to boredom. This changed exceptionally once we began filming. Although we stumbled over placing the lavalier mic, a beeping cellphone with an eternally low battery, noise from a study group in the next thinly separated cubicle over, the students responded with fervor and emotion to the state of education in their country.

I was impressed by my Mozambican peers – they had clearly put to use every ounce of their studying time reviewing whatever materials available to them in their fields of study. José, Amarilis, Ansalmo, Vacitissa – these are names and faces that may fade, but whose ideas will always strike me because of their honesty, urgency and clarity. Women in education, mother tongue language instruction, political accountability, seriousness of mozambican educational theorists, budgetary concerns…there were few areas left untouched. I left with a head full of things to grok, a deep respect for students at University Eduardo Mondlane, and a challenge to understand as well the educational system of my own country.

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Election day we went to Matola. Our driver that day, Jacinto, lives in Matola, an outerlying area half an hour from Maputo. The difference in infrastructure was apparent very soon after leaving Maputo City proper. Paved thoroughfares gave way to sandy lanes – lanes that Jacinto noted were failed election promises to Matola residents.

Jacinto’s passive cynicism regarding FRELIMO seemed in line with the overall direction of my discourse with Mozambicans up to that point. Students protested pressures to carry FRELIMO party cards in order to achieve academic success, and a meeting with the US Embassy was telling that professors faced similar if not more intense coercion.

We rumbled down the road on the left side, dodging cement trucks, minibuses, market-goers and sometimes reached clearings of open sand. We were in search, if it isn’t clear, of polling stations.

After interviewing voters at a polling station along the way, a school, we ended up at another school in the sector/bairro of Kongoloti. Wearing my poll observer/press credential I walked into several of the classrooms used as polling areas and observed the process.

After doing this for 20 minutes or so I emerged, along with teammate Sebrina, to talk to some people in the lines.

Jacinto timidly walked up to us and asked me in Portuguese if we would be interviewing many people in Kongoloti. I replied in Portuguese that I wasn’t sure, it depended on who talked with us and the desires of the rest of the group. After minutes of indirect questions he explained that this was his voting station. He was wondering if he would have enough time to vote. Sebrina and I were emphatic that he should vote, we told him to (of course!) get in line and after he had done so, remarked between ourselves that if we hadn’t come to Matola he might not have had the chance to vote at all.