i'm back!

well, i know you've all been waiting for it. i am here today to post this year's "jenny in mozambique" blog entry for 2007. haha. seriously, i'm turning a new leaf with the whole blogging thing. but i won't be offended if you don't believe me because i'm not entirely certain i do....

i've been thinking a lot about where i was last year this time. i have no idea of the challenges yet to come, but in my hardest moments here, i think about the leaving home part—the weeks of preparation and then the physical walking away at the airport—and it brings me nothing but relief that that part is over with.

i was recently talking with other volunteers about our departures from home. on september 24th, 2006 we all gathered in philadelphia for two and a half days of staging before embarking on our two day journey to mozambique and three night stay confined to the property of hotel cardoso—in the capital city of maputo—for further orientation, before being placed with our host families for ten weeks of training. i recounted arriving at the philadelphia airport for staging. i had a number to call for a taxi to get me from the airport to the hotel. i had a backpack and two large, heavy duffels, filled with carefully selected items for the next two years. i got to the pay phone (my cell phone service had been shut off at 5am that morning, leaving me feeling quite disconnected) and instead of dialing the taxi number, i called home and burst into tears. i had said goodbye to my family at logan airport approximately 5 hours before for a twenty-seven month journey and already i felt more alone and homesick than ever.

right now i'm in my house in a rural community outside the city of chimoio, mozambique. i was just doing some re-organizing in my house and came across the site assignment i received almost exactly eight months ago—the paper that, in three paragraphs, told me all of what i was to know about my life for the next two years: that i would be working for a small community-based organization located in chimoio, and that "through trainings, community activities and events, and home-based care visits, [i would] impact peoples' lives directly."

it's hard to explain exactly what i do here because it's something i'm very much still trying to figure out and something i question everyday. the organization i was placed with is tiny and young. on paper what they do is give support to 33 orphans that live in my community. the aid is supposed to include psycho-social support by five local volunteers who do home visits to the orphans on a weekly basis. these visits should serve to check in on the orphans, make sure they are being cared for, going to school, living in sanitary conditions, getting enough to eat. the volunteers (called "activistas" in portuguese) are also in charge of making quarterly distributions of school supplies and used clothes to the beneficiaries, provided by the organization. other components of the project include getting the kids offical documents and identification, school uniforms, a vocational training program and building houses for the families who are in greatest need.

the problem is that rarely does someone from the office make it out to the community to see how things are going. the activistas have never been properly trained in psycho-social support, and the money budgeted to buy materials for the beneficiaries has disappeared. i have watched everything that is supposed to happen, happen haphazardly, poorly, for the wrong reasons, or not at all.

ahh! this is the part that overwhelms me. more to come on work and what i'm doing here. for now, a few glimpses into the past week...

on sunday afternoon i was lying on my bed reading, completely absorbed in a book. i heard something strange, a clocking sound, and looked up to find not one, not two, not three, but four goats IN my house. i jumped up, they were all crowded into the hallway thinking about going into the kitchen. if i were to exit my bedroom in pursuit of them i would have only chased them further into the house, and i did not want to come in between them and the way out. i was paralyzed for a second (do goats attack?). finally i managed an awkward “hey!” they backed themselves out, onto the veranda and into the yard. goats.

i sat on my front stoop late one afternoon talking on the phone with mom. six or seven kids were playing in the yard with a ball and every once in awhile they would erupt into shouts and giggles so loud that i had trouble hearing my conversation. and mom would remark, “what IS that?” or “what’s HAPPENING over there?”or “they sound like they are having SO MUCH FUN!” one of my favorite things to do here is just sit and watch. lots of times i pretend i’m doing something, working or reading a book, so they don’t realize i’m watching. sometimes i think i pretend i’m working only to fool myself—because just watching doesn’t seem worthy of why i’m here.

yesterday i was sitting with two neighbors. one was my good friend suzana and another is the wife of the chefe do posto of my town. her son, eddy, was playing in the yard. i asked how old eddy was and she said one and a half years. suzana then started teasing her for having such a young son and already pregnant. i asked her how many months pregnant she was. they responded with a burst of laughter (this happens a lot when i ask questions or make remarks)—and suzana explained to her that i really like pregnant women. she never answered my question though, and they told me that when a woman is pregnant here she hides it for as long as possible or denies it, and doesn’t answer questions about it. they explained to me that if they are open about it, it is easier for witches to cast spells and harm the mother or baby.

the other night about five neighborhood children were playing on my verandah—three regulars and two i didn’t recognize. i turned on some mozambican music for them. i love watching the kids here dance. they have incredible rhythm. they do things i would never do. so i turned the music up loud and went about my business hoping i could pretend to be occupied and steal secret glances. soon after i had turned on the music they told me that they had a song for me and asked me to turn the music off. i did, and sat down on my doorway step. they sat around me and sang to me all the songs they know from school—in these beautiful, high-pitched, unabashed voices. it was a moment that makes me wonder how i will ever leave this place.

that's all for now. more to come later. (but maybe don't hold your breath.)