I went to Chibuto and Xai Xai in Gaza province on Thursday. The landscape mostly flat, wiry trees and scattered crops passed quickly by the window.

I wonder how long I will be able to recall those scenes. For a month? Two years?

How long can I trust my memory for

?

I speak to Costa*, the bus driver, and he tells me that he wants to get married next year. Unmarried men after his age aren’t considerado. He’d like to have someone to wash his clothes, make his favorite dish, go to the beach with and curl up with on cold days. He says this very casually and matter of factly.

(*Costantino)

I kid with him in Portuguese about his scheme to pick out a girl sometime next November for marriage, and I get occasional support from Lucio, a Mozambican student who came along with us.

We stop and eat toasted cashews from children on the side of the road.

We stop in Chibuto. There my group (education and legal system) stop at a district court. We aren’t allowed in because we don’t have a letter from the Ministry of Justice, and the guard – worried about job security – won’t even tell us if the court employs translators for native languages. We are sent to the tribunal, but they don’t have time for us and want us to come back Monday.

Kevin spotted the STAE office (Secretariado Técnico de Administração Eleitoral) and we went in to visit the district elections administrator to see how things fared in Gaza. They hadn’t finished their count yet, having a district of around 140 polling stations, but they hoped to have things counted by the end of the day.

More stops were made to Chissano’s house and church. Costa’s uncle, stepmother and step-grandmother all live as caretakers on Chissano’s property. His step-grandmother (who he referred to as simply grandma) was over 100 years old. She had many tattoos on her arms. When I asked Costa what they were he said that he didn’t know, she had always had them.

We ate chicken in Xai Xai for about 4 dollars. I wish I had taken a picture. I think it was the best chicken I’ve ever had in my life. I had a coffee which sparked a 30 minute english lesson for Costa on top of a paper table cloth.

The trip was long. We returned at night, the bus asleep, and me and Costa in front talking about life and desires, gospel songs in english and changana.

Canimambo Ozi. Lusí ene enjeleke.

Friday we go to the Chissano Superior Institute of International Relations. It is the University Santos went to. Kevin gives a lecture on Democracy and political/voting trends/analysis in the United States. It is interactive and the students are very engaged.

I wish that all of my peers at Wayne State were as excited about learning.

It’s cold that day. We go to an MDM district headquarters office in Xipamanine but they are closed.

Saturday. Ponta D’Ouro.

We leave relatively early. A ferryboat, a muddy ride through african savannah and 3+ later we arrive.

After checking into our hotel, we are received by Todd and Dawn who are living in Ponta do Ouro as part of the Dream Project. We visited a children’s home. They make their own bread, they run to the beach and up the nearby mountain. I have so many things running through my head – about them, me, places I’ve been and want to return to..

I stand in the bed of the truck and try to steal some images on film.

The next day we go on a boat to try and swim with dolphins. We didn’t swim with them, but we saw them.

The water was beautiful and I thought of Lake Michigan and Easter Island.

Later we go to the plot of land that Todd and Dawn, our hosts, will build another children’s home on.

The area is also breathtaking. I think of Chinua Achebe, of sitting under one of those wily trees, of wearing capulanas and living in a different world.

Santos asked me if I could live in Mozambique.

I could.

Before we leave we run to the Indian Ocean and play in the sand. We ran to the sea and were thrashed by waves and sent away by jellyfish that passively stung our exposed legs. But it was still amazing to be there and see and breathe in front of that ocean.

We begin our return, but this time it’s not muddy and there is blasting techno inside of the rickety minibus. Michelle and YoungKey dance to it for over an hour and I laugh uncontrollably at their inventiveness. The savannah rolls past outside. The bush, as Santos says.

We arrive in Catembe, the border town; there are kiosks and bright apple red storefronts selling soda and snacks. A tin storefront has a pool table inside and lightbulbs illuminating the players.

I step off the bus to look at the Maputo skyline on the other side of the water.

There is music blasting from one of the businesses and the local kids are in a group dancing. It’s fun to watch.

I talk to Santos while we lean on the outside of the painted tin enclosure of the pool table place.

We are only going to be here for today, it’s Monday, but I try not to think about it and I will enjoy living in the moment. In a way it’s all I have.

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.

- – - – - – - -

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.

Elections, Observation Missions, Fliers, Capulanas

Students, Orphans, Believers, Peddlers

Embassies, Credentials, Maps, Interviews

…………..

This Morning the class visited the U.S. Embassy. One of the diplomats made an appointment for us to interview the director of the law school of the main university in Mozambique, Universidade Eduardo Mondlane. We interviewed a professor of Portuguese in the Social Sciences faculty as well. Tomorrow we go back. I appreciate the openness and candidness of the people who received us at the university. There was so much communion, so much good will. Our group has a lot to learn and I am excited for this challenge to fit so many interviews and lessons into the one week that we have remaining.

I am surprised by my Portuguese. I am surprised by the Portuguese of others too — “meh-tee-kigh-sh” instead of “meh-tee-kighs”. I didn’t expect to be this functional in the language, but I’m glad. It’s a blessing. In Maputo province Portuguese is very widespread, although I have met a number of people who are bilingual in other languages or who have limited Portuguese skills.

I went to an Assembly of God church service on Sunday and they were singing songs in Changana, one of the local languages. The message was missions. The service was linguistically taxing but the congregation was very open, there were doors even open to the outside at the front of the church, the whole thing felt light and much like the christian/protestant churches that I know from the United States.

We went to the main Frelimo political rally and interviewed various people about their party affiliation the same day. Who will they vote for, and why? What is the difference that their vote will make in this election?
What if an opposition party wins?

The hats, shirts, political fans walking around with bumper stickers and sticky posters stuck to their clothing, wrapped in skirts (capulanas) with Guebuzas face radiating from the hip, or the calf, or perhaps the temple of their well wrapped head. There is a creativity and soul to Frelimo that I know little of in the United States. I would never put a candidates headshot all over my car or my clothing. I might go as far as a tank top.

The day we arrived in Maputo, I think it was Saturday, we met the former president of the country – Joaquim Chissano. I asked him a question about the officialization of native languages in Mozambique (on camera during our interview) and also had the job of presenting him with our class gift. It turns out that his birthday was the day before, so it doubled as a birthday gift.

I was interested in the living memory of the occasion. How could it be possible that someone who has extended themselves into literature, poetry, songs, history books, a person that will not be forgotten, not for a long time, be listening to me (from Downriver Michigan) ask a question about my nascent interest in his country? My interest in his country is six decades younger than his. I am fascinated.
But these are the strange happenings of life, and I embrace life.

I am learning so much about developing nations, nationalism, poll observation missions

and the reddest dirt

that rivals the earth and anthills

of Hamilton, Alabama.

What is Group Study Exchange (GSE)?
The Group Study Exchange program is a unique cultural and vocational exchange opportunity for business and professional men and women in the initial years of their careers. The program is designed to develop professional and leadership skills among young people to better prepare them to address the needs of their communities and an increasingly global workplace.

What constitutes a GSE team?

• 1 Rotarian team leader who is not the current DG, immediate PDG, or the DGE and
• 4 non-Rotarian team members who are:
  • Between the ages of 25-40
  • Currently employed, with 2 years of experience in their chosen profession
  • Not lineal descendants or spouses of Rotarians

Continuing…

We spent a day in Cerro San Cristobal, which is a municipal park organized around a hill. Around the hill there is a zoo, a wine museum, millions of places to picnic and a lot of joggers and bikers. On the top of the hill is a large statue of the Virgen de la Inmaculada, a gift from France (I guess that the French just love making huge statues to give away). Given that this hill is home to the second highest point in the city, we had an amazing view of Santiago and the Andes despite it being a foggy day. We took a cable car half way up the hill and walked the rest of the way.

Left to Right: Maggie, Dora, Maurice, Susan, Marina, Me, Dana, Paul

At night we spent some time eating sushi inside Patio Bellavista in the Bellavista neighborhood right outside of the park.

The next day was Día del Patrimonio (National Heritage Day), which meant all of the museums and national historic sites were open free to the public. We went to the Museo de Bellas Artes and then spent some time nearby in the famous Plaza de Armas, where all other points in Chile are measured from. The last thing we saw was the ‘presidential palace’ Palacio de La Moneda, which is in fact not where the president lives. She lives in another district near the military headquarters.

1. 2. 3.

4. 5. 6.

1., 2.) Inside of the Museo de Bellas Artes 3.) Plaza de Armas 4.) Flower and sand art celebrating National Heritage Day 5.) The Santiago Stock Exchange 6.) Me in front of the presidential palace La Moneda

For more pictures click here.

To take advantage of this week off school, I along with two other girls studying at PUCV on exchange went camping at the National Reserve Siete Tazas. Siete Tazas means literally “Seven Cups” and is so named for the seven waterfalls which spill into one another through natural volcanic basins formed years and years ago. We spent Saturday buying camp food and supplies, and left Sunday morning for our trip.

Emily (Montana)

Things went pretty much on schedule on the way to the reserve. We managed to get student prices for bus fares and micros (city buses), and had little delays in the way of waiting in between transfers.

Our path was as follows:

1. Valparaíso to Santiago in Bus (9am)
2. Santiago to Curicó in Bus
3. Curicó to Molina in micro (2:30pm)

This is where we ran into a problem…
Because it is no longer considered high season, buses do not run more than once daily after a certain point in February. Of course we found this out, no thanks to Lonely Planet’s Guide to Chile.

We had to wait in Molina until 5:00 for a bus to Valdesina, which was still about 20 miles away from our destination. Molina, by the way, is a pretty small community; we were well aware as we sat in the town square with our fair skin and huge backpacks, that we were the main attraction.

Waiting in Molina consisted of exciting things like:

• Making sandwiches on a bench in the park out of avocado, lukewarm cheese and salami
• Going to the internet cafe
• Buying new water bottles and using the restroom at the local grocery store
• Getting bothered by some local teenagers on BMX bikes
• Sweating because I was wearing a polar fleece jacket
• Swatting flies at the bus station and avoiding contact with the flea-infected dog who kept running around our bench

Once we were finally on the bus to Valdesina, curious as to how we would find our way to the reserve from the destination of the bus, a fellow passenger told us about a bus that was leaving Valdesina for Radal (the embarkment point for the reserve) at 9pm that evening.

Valdesina was scarcely more than a wide spot in the road. We easily found the river (by turning right after we descended from the bus and walking 40 feet), and a place to set up camp. The question now was whether to set up camp before nightfall, or wait for the phantom bus which would whisk us away to Radal where we would set up camp and hike to the falls the next day.

We decided to wait.

We ate a hearty dinner of rice and mixed vegetables, and some type of packet soup. Gretchen and Emily both have ample camping gear, so we had two propane stoves to make food with.

After dinner we made a small fire in one of the many stone fire pits while we waited for the bus. At 9 a bus finally came, but it was the same bus that had taken us to Valdesina running the same route again.

The next day we got a local to take us to the park in his truck for 14,000 pesos (around $30). This was a huge rip off, but we had run out of options!

We found a camp spot once we arrived in Radal, and spent the rest of the day in the park.

The falls were beautiful. We saw two distinct sites, and had the fortune (due to the difficulty of arrival and the fact that it isn’t high season) of not having to share them with anyone.

For more pictures from this trip, click here.

Mom, Family and Friends,

I am on a different keyboard, so forgive me if i make a million mistakes.!
I arrived today, Pablo picked me up from the airport and we took a bus directly to Viña del Mar. We spent some time with his relatives, his grandma, his great aunts and uncles that live in the area,
and then went to my university with his cousin, Diego.
Diego showed me how to grab the “micro” which is tantamount to a local bus which runs between Viña and Valparaiso.
It costs about 80 cents, or less with a student ID, which I should get tomorrow.
(I missed the orientation in the morning because  of my flight….it started at 9:30am and I wasn’t even off of the plane until 10am)

After I spent several hours in the university seeing what I had missed in the morning, Pablo and I went and got something to eat, and then I went with Isabel (Loretos sister) to her house. I am in an internet cafe at the moment, near Isabel’s house. Tomorrow I have to be in the University at 10am to finish up more paperwork. also tomorrow i have to figure out a cellular phone plan, a bank account, somewhere to live longer term, register my visa with the police, etc. 

My Spanish seems to be doing fine, except I hear from many people that I sound Mexican. This doesn’t surprise me much, since I perpetually say “mande” (the equivalent of “excuse me”) in order to hear things correctly, pass by others in the street, ask questions, and I cannot seem to shake this mark of mexicanness–it is, however, just my first day!

Today there was a large fire between Santiago and Viña, covering some 17,000 hectares. The entire city is covered with a tinge of smoke and ashes have been falling lightly over us the whole day! It is a very strange occurrence, even for the locals. I took a video earlier of the smoke rising over the city from afar.

I am trying to type relatively fast, as well as cover a lot of material, in addition I am extremely tired. I want you to know that I am doing very well, I am optimistic for my classes and that everything will turn out alright. My classes actually start next Monday, so this week is just orientation. I will have this entire weekend to orient myself and figure out a place to live.

I cant wait to live somewhere with WiFi internet access so that i can start posting on my blog and showing everyone pictures.
in time…

besos y abrazos,

Hannah

I saw the MOMA, Marjane Satrapi’s movie, and a multitude of interesting venues including the Muji Store. :)

Pictured at MOMA

On top of the Rockefeller Center enjoying a light room installation

Look at more pictures from my trips here.