Greetings from beautiful Zambezia. I am, right now, accessing the internet at a hotel that has free wireless, and I want to thank you (if you are American) for the chance, since it is YOUR tax dollars at work that fund the organization that has been given a PCV that is my friend and offered me the access. So thank you.

Yestday I saw my house! Sadly, it was from the road. We traveled through my new hometown and saw the house but couldn't stop. It is great, bar-front property with a lovely, treeless yard. A duplex, which is almost like having a free, human security system because generally Mozambicans know what is going on in their neighbors houses. It doesn't look like it has a latrine, which is a major disappointment for me. I can live without the mango trees, papaya trees, fence, and porch. However, I was really wanting a latrine. I know what you're thinking: but Melissa, not having a latrine means having an inside toilet! Yes. Exactly. So imagine that you have a toilet, and it is inside, and it is not an automatic flush. This is a little hard for a lot of people, so I will be explicit. A manual flush toilet never really fully flushes, since you have to force the waste into the piping system using only the natural force of gravity and water. I, as it turns out, am not quite tall enough to be able to get the necessary acceleration when I pour water out of a bucket to actually clear the toilet. So now I have a cement house with a tin roof (read: the hottest house you can have. Like a toasty little people oven!) and a toilet that is housing some remnants of my waste. Oh latrine, how I want you. But at least this way I won't have to buy an extra bucket for my xi-xi bucket, which saves me about two dollars.

Yesterday we did stop in the ol' town to have a quick lunch on the road. A boy asked me for money (estou pedir= i am asking, which quickly turns into a loathsome phrase), so I told him that I am going to be living and working in his town by Wednesday. He gave me an up-and-down look, and walked away. Clearly I wasn't worth asking twice.

I must be going now. I have to prepare for a party we are going to with our new supervisors. It is important, I think, to form good relationships right off the bat, and create opportunities for direct, open communication. And with a beer in you, it is easier to let go of language inhibitions.

Tchao.

So this is how public transportation from city to city works. You get on a chapa, which is a lovely, often bug-infested, plastic-coated seat van that seats between 24-30 people, depending on the size of the people. And no, this is not like a cargo van. It is about the size of an average minivan. Then, as the chapa gets going out of the city, you stop for gas. At every stop, people crowd the windows to try to sell you homomake freezepops (in sandwich bags, made with what i am sure is clean water), roasted cashews, or chicken stock. Once on the road again, someone inevitably closes all the windows, trapping in the luxurious amount of body heat and odors. Then, your chapa will either get a flat tire, or like yesterday the radiator will overhead three different times. This allows for a breezy break at the side of the road, since the engine is underneath the passenger seats, not in the front of the van. Stretch your legs, but please try not to get hit by the speeding, sometimes careening traffic, as my host-sister did two years ago (inflicting permanent back damage). Load back in, perhaps get peed on by a chicken or a small child, and hold your tonge if you see that child (hopefully at least 6 months old) being fed Fanta from a bottle. Eh. It is better than a lot of other things anyway. Once you near the end, pay the conductor in exact change as most people do not like to give change. Ever.
Safely arrive at your destination, disembark, pull the sweat-soaked shirt away from your back, and enjoy wherever you end up.

Hi. I had a lovely entry prepared, but then the computer crashed at the internet cafe, and the computer at the Peace Corps office isn't allowing me to copy or cut and paste. So, instead, you get this.

My host-mama had her beautiful baby boy. He is great, but may or may not be named Weidy or Melvin. I was pushing for Kennedy, but we'll see. Mama is ok, but had a C-Section, so she's still recovering. Surgeries can have a lot of complications here, so she's staying in Maputo.

I did and saw a few things:
1) I woke up to an over six inch long cockroach. I killed him. Is it weird that it was a little nice to wake up to another creature in my room in the morning?
2) I saw my little sister Mae pee on the sidewalk around our house. Now I know why my family insisted on me wearing sandals whenever I wasn't.
3)I heard my first war myth. It's that one of the fighting parties would tear unborn babes from the mother and pilar them (essentially, crushing something with a very large wooden mortar and pestle, usually used for peanut-flour production). Yuck.
4) I took a very solumn oath and am now in the position to defend you all (if you're American) from foreign or domestic enemies, and to defend the consistitution, come hell or high water!

okbye!

This is the moment you have all been waiting for these past eight weeks. SITE PLACEMENT!!!! Yeah! Alright! And then, at the peak of our excitement, right before real Thanksgiving and shortly before the feast of our Peace Corps Thanksgiving, they throw that last little Peace Corps catch. Everyone's placement was in an envelope, and everyone had to wait until the last envelope (there are about 70 of us) was handed out and the letter accompanying it was fully read. Yes. All seventy adults sat with our placements in hand, and couldn't open it until we could all open them. Why? A question the world will never be able to answer. But to get to the good stuff, I can and will tell you what province I will be moving to: Zambezia! A lovely little province, technically in the central region but really more northern. This is accompanied by summer days that can be up to 120 degrees Fahrenheit, and winter rains that result in a long lasting and all-encompassing red mud. This charming variety in weather is accompanied by two more human charms: the mentally unstable woman that is not only disposed to hit PCV's in the market but is also rather strong, and the “very fast legless man” (quoted from a site detail sheet left by a former volunteer) who will ask for money with applause-worthy persistence.

But let's move on since a lot has happened in the past week and I'm already prone to lengthy posts. Tuesday our health group visited two orphanages. I was determined to visit the girls' orphanage, which I did, while the other half visited a boys' orphanage. Both are privately run and funded, so along with that goes the assumption that they are better equipped than a government-run orphanage. While I haven't seen a government-funded orphanage, I did ask and was told that the orphanage I saw was far superior in funding and facilities than a government orphanage. We were greeted by all eighty-nine girls singing several songs to us in nothing short of angelic voices. It was heartwarming. The facilities were very nice, with clean, sound buildings and bright cheerful colors. Almost every bed had a mosquito net, and they just finished building a school on premises. This, of course, was constructed because the girls had been walking off site to another school, but it was discovered that some of them were being stolen and killed. Well, the woman who described it was a little vague, but the exact verbs used were robar para matar, which in a direct translation means to steal for to kill. The girls seemed very happy, healthy, and eager to wrap their arms around us. We were given morning snacks, and they even wanted to feed us, which was amazing but we were able to turn down. It was extremely uplifting. As far as the boys' orphanage goes, the main point that struck me was that the orphanage has its own school, and families in the surrounding communities actually opt to pay for their sons to attend school at the orphanage. So, while these are uncommon, it is still just awesome that they exist.

Wednesday was our Thanksgiving day, and I have to hand it to us trainees and to administration, because it was wonderful. There was so much food, and it was so traditional American, and the tables were pretty and there were little (meaty) appetizers. The effort blew my mind, and then the food blew my stomach. I don't think anyone was able to do more than waddle out of that lunch. I personally ate an entire plate of dessert. But that was only to fulfill my duty as a PCV, part of which is to bring American culture to Mozambique, and what better way to show American gluttony than me eating sugar to excess? Exactly.

And there was been a nice surprise for me this week. Another mystery has been solved within my host-house: my aunt's husband is not dead. Surprise! No, instead of death the man just lives and works in another province. Gaza, to be exact, and as a truck driver. And no, I'm not just incompetent: the Portuguese words for “to reside” and “to die” are extremely similar, and I was given this information the first night with my family. Also, the man (I now know his name is Beto) that lives with us doesn't just intentionally ignore my evening greetings. He is, in fact, partially deaf. Case closed.

I'm sure everyone has been on pins and needles wondering how my nose-blowing session with eight year-olds went. Don't worry, it was a hit. The five boys and one girl learned how to wash their hands properly. Sadly, for this exercise (upon reflection and a recent laundry day) I am pretty sure I had them wash with laundry soap. But soap is soap... right? They they ate cookies, learned a little about their boogers, made some hankies and called it a day. I learned that little kids are great at blatantly lying to me. They all said that not a single one had boogers. Ever. So I taught them the theory, if there every came a day that they did develop that which all other people seem to have. And a few days after, my brother and his friend asked me if I was having class the next day. For them. They wanted to have me teach another lesson, which was sweet. I told them that when I move to Zambezia, they are more than welcome to visit and I'll give them all the lessons they can handle.

So now all we have to do is sit back and wait. My knives have been bought from the Chinese “Walmart”, as well as a knife sharpener (since I decided against the more local manner of knife-sharpening which is against any concrete surface), and the basics in spices. Ready to move in!

Until next time, I will give you this bit of employment advise:

If you show up drunk to a work function, even if it is another nation's day of giving thanks, you will probably be fired.

Question: was that creek there before?

Answer: Um, no. Welcome to the rainy season!

So hi and Happy Thanksgiving Week!

Thanks in large part to Peace Corps, this Wednesday we PCT's are having a lovely, American Thanksgiving Celebration. American means we will all be together, probably speak little to no Portuguese, get information we desperately want (our site placement, here already?), gorg ourselves on food we want and don't need, and then play a rousing, already competitive game of American football. I say that the game is already competitive because teams are Health trainees against Education trainees (about 26 to 45, respectively) and the Education team has had a practice. Yes. They held a practice for what will be flag football. We clearly are aching for a personal win.

What food, you might ask, could a few dozen Americans and the USG backed Peace Corps whip up for America's most orginal holiday? Turkey, roasted veggies, sweet potatoes that are purple, pies,including pumpkin, cookies, including my own chocolate chip cookies, minus the chocolate chips because I haven't found them here and chocolate is like brown gold, deviled eggs (or so the gossip claims and I am eager to believe it), Mexican flan (glad to see the majority population of California stepping up), stuffing with walnuts, and a macaroni and cheese was suggested but I think might have fallen flat. Cheese is expensive, to say the least. So it will probably be a wonderful feast followed by a less than stellar, slightly sickened game of American football on the major pitch in town where all the Mozambicans can see us run a little until we get tired because we just ate seven and a half pounds of food per person. The perfect Thanksgiving.

Here in Mozambique, though, I like to think that we give thanks every day for little things. Here are some of the things that I give thanks for lately.

1) Lack of shame. The other day I was taking my morning constitutional, or run, and ahead of me a woman was walking. Nothing new. Even though I run relatively early in the morning (around 5am usually), it isn't that early in Moz. This woman, though, veered off a little to the side of the walkway, lifted her capelana skirt to about mid-thigh, firmly planted her feet a little over shoulder-width apart, and proceeded to urinate. As a health worker, knowing that last year cholera was all the rage, I was a little wary. But, urine is sterile, very few things can be passed through it. Blood, yes, but that's rare. Schistosomosis parasite? Well, yes technically. But unless she peed in a puddle and that puddle had a specific type of snail and then a person bathed in that puddle, it is ok. And the runner in me said, Heck yeah. Do it. You have to pee, pee. In Moz, there aren't public toilets. I take that back. I know of one, and that is in the Maputo shopping mall. I would argue that she probably couldn't hold it all the way to Maputo, nor should she. I especially liked that she didn't look around, didn't make sure nobody was coming. I know that, because if she had, I wouldn't have seen her. I was coming. So I applaud her style and am thankful for her lack of shame. Because when it comes down to it, what's a little public urination?
2) The English Language. This is because the other day I was spending a little quality time with my family, and we were all enjoying the riveting (and these days I'm not joking anymore) Brazilian telenovela, Parar Paralelo (yes, I know the title now). It has been unseasonable cold and seasonably rainy lately, so in order to warm up a little, and because she's so darn cute, I got little Mae to sit on my lap. All was right in the world for those warmer, adorable moments until. Until Mae looked at me with her devilish smile, stuck her chubby little middle finger up, and, after clearly rehearsing in her head, said the words that usually go along with just such a hand gesture. I was shocked! She's three! And it was perfect, clear English! So I told her those were bad words and it was bad to do that. She looked a little self-conscious, and I briefly congratulated myself on undoing what some naughty kid or teen did to her sweet brain. Until she did it again. My sense of morality made me feel like she should be punished a little. So I made her get off my lap. Which actually punished me more than her, since she just went to bed where it was warm under several blankets, and I was left to try to explain why I just banished the three year old from my lap. So thank you to English, for being so popular in Moz that one of the few phrases a school kid learns is so offensive, and for being easy enough for a three year old to perfectly enunciate such shocking words.
3) Knowledge. So this is a broad thing to be thankful of, so I will narrow it down for you. I believe it is (or should be) well known that when a person has a latrine outside, it is not recommended or fun to use the latrine at night. That is why someone very nice and wise and thinking ahead thought to invent the xi-xi (pronounced she-she) bucket, which is a bucket slightly filled with clean water in one's bedroom that you pee in at night. And sometimes in the morning when technically it's light and easy to use the latrine, but maybe you want to just lay in bed a little because it's Sunday and just read and you don't feel like walking the approximately fifteen feet from your room to the latrine. So xi-xi buckets are wonderful, and sometimes the hottest topic PCT's have to talk about. That being said, it had come to the attention of a few PCT's that their family, with a less buckets available than desirable, use the same bucket for several functions. Like for xi-xi, and then also for mopping the floor. Or, for those unfortunate PCT's, for xi-xi, and then bathing. I counted myself as lucky that my family only multi-tasked the xi-xi specific bucket for mopping. Until a little knowledge stepped in. Since Little Mae is only three, it is hard for her to use a tall bucket at night. Which is why their xi-xi bucket consists of one tall one within a wide, squat one. And I just noticed this the other day. That pee actually goes in the wide one. This makes sense, but I never thought of it probably because I never wanted to think of it. Because that wide bucket is what we use to bathe. Which is probably why my family insists on rinsing buckets out all the time before use. Sadly, we have no cleaner to clean the actual bucket in between functions. So I am now thankful that I know this, because from then on I have been extra careful to keep my eyes and mouth shut when I bathe.

A quick shoutout to my Mamá, who started singing in a group and won the local talent contest last night. Grand prize? A rather chique capelana. Parabéns (congratulations)!

So this is all for now. This week is a full week. I am leading my practicum session, which is going to teach kids about nose-blowing and hand-washing. Then a trip to an orphanage, followed the next day by site placement and Thanksgiving, followed by real Thanksgiving. I am sure I'll be writing again soon, with so much excitement on the horizon. Until then, I'll give you this tip.

If you're a Portuguese speaking man and want my attention, it is not to your advantage to yell across two lanes of traffic “Whitey! Whitey! Whitey! Whitey!”.

And no, in this case persistence does not pay off.

Hi. I just wanted to say i'm on a wireless network on my lovely little netbook at the Maputo shopping center. Just another day in the life of a PCT. It feels surreal, which is becoming normal. So i guess it feels normal?

A highlight of the day? We found the Chinese Walmart in Maputo. I bought what looked like a twinkie. it wasn't. It had what looked like a slimjim in the middle. It (thankfully) wasn't.

All for now. I need to catch a chapa out of here in an hour and my iceberg salad is staring at me.

More to come...

I'm so proud, but it's only a front. I cried on the inside. Gela is my host-mom's little sister. She's 23 also, and didn't like the cookies at all. Nice, Gela.

Wow. Well alright. A lot has happened since you last heard from me, and I think the best place to start is with dessert, because one never knows with the electricity will go out.

Last Friday I decided to impress my host-family with my exquisite culinary skills. In preparation, I bought expensive peanut butter (All peanut butter is expensive, but this stuff was unneccessarily so because I bought it at the gas station and I should have bought it at the cheap bar. Yes. Peanut Butter with your whiskey?), vanilla extract, margarine (I've seen butter three times, twice of which were plane rides and the last was in the hotel we were put up in), and what some people would call brown sugar, but I would call unrefined sugar. It's from Swaziland, not fine, but I figure it was the best thing I had and it was at least a little brown. Anyway, with these in hand I warmed my margarine and creamed it, added the eggs and peanut butter and did my baker thing. First half dozen? Burned. The trick to an electric oven is to switch the electric current from the top to the bottom of the oven halfway through. Last two dozen? Perfect. Moist, sweet and peanuty. Impressive? Not even a little. My host-family, as it turns out, doesn't like very sweet cookies. Which is probably why they make cookies that are a lot more like biscuits than my idea of a cookie. But don't worry. I brought the cookies with me and my travel companion Emily said they were perfect and our host PCV thought they were very nice too.

Which brings me to my travels! I'm excited to say that I have now been out of the southern region of Mozambique and in fact have enjoyed the luxury of in-country flight to the north. What a nice break. I do want to thank all of my American family, friends, et. al. for your generous contribution to my trip. Taxes were never spent so well. The beaches were either shockingly pristine, or excruciatingly dirty (think latrine usage). The views were always amazing, and the play between old Portuguese architecture, war-torn crumbled buildings, and current housing and businesses is amazing. Also, I found a cafe that sold Diet Coke. Truly a luxury. The PCV I visited was fantastic, and gave some great inspiration for those of us health volunteers that will end up at site with no actual job to do. Not to mention 1) mangoes are better 2) coconut is young and better and 3) there is no mud. It was a wonderful cross between a tropical vacation and a hardcore Peace Corps experience.

The PC experience came in when we trekked across the low-tide marshlands of the Indian Ocean for two hours midday before wading with our full packs across the ocean for about a half mile in order to find the fishing boat we hired to take us back to site. Let's just say that sometimes sea urchins aren't delicious; they just hurt.

So now we've made it back to training and are even more anxious to get to site. Not to say that i'm not glad to be back with my host-family that won't ever fail to give me my mid-morning and late-afternoon snacks, because nothing can replace the love you feel when you know you'll be getting those lanchees. But really, starting my life at site won't come too soon, because then I can have all the rice and beans I can stand (up north they make rice with coconut, and I feel I will be doing the same thing for the next two years). And I'll be able to cut my hair without being giggled at quite as much. Don't worry, it was just a trim.

I leave you with this question: what is good with Orange Fanta, Coke, Jolly Jus (almost like Crystal Light), and tastes like Bazooka bubblegum?
Agua de Papa (translation: Dad's Water)

Post- LPI/Round Robin rundown

Why yes, there is something different about me. I have been working on my tan. I thank you for noticing.

So hello there.

I hope this finds everyone in excellent health. I myself am doing very nicely these days. I've just come from the finish of my Round Robin exam, which was to access that we stay awake in classes and sessions, essentially. My language test was a conversation, and at the end my tester told me that i spoke Portuguese well enough, but I need to study different tenses. What? I can't speak only in the present for the next two years? Absurd!

The tests were very easy, which probably doesn't mean I'm very smart, just that Peace Corps are looking for success and not failure. Especially since they've just spent an excellent amount of PEPFAR money on our planetickets to...

SITE VISITS! That's right. It's time for all us little PCT's to get out into the wide world of Mozambique for a few days. I myself am headed up north to the Nampula Province, which I hear is lovely this time of year. It will finally be warm, which is great. I'm traveling with another PCT and staying with a PCV that is working in health as well. It's an exciting time, and a great way to mark the end of halfway through training. Huzzah.

Today we were supposed to celebrate with a little Bean Burger Get-Together, but that was shut down by admin. Because some people are leaving at 4 in the morning tomorrow, they wanted us to keep our bedtimes early and sober. So there you go. But I have a feeling we'll come up with something nice to do together tonight and still get our much needed rest. Unfortunetly, the visiting PCV's that organized it had already bought 300 Mt. of cheese. That will make for Mozambique's most awesome grilled cheese sandes (sandwich) ever.

This past Wednesday was a great time during cultural exchange. They brought in some local dancers and I discovered just how much a 5 year old can beat out my eight years of formal dance lessons. Lesson to be learned? If you truely want to teach your children to dance, ship them over here.

My mom's sister is visiting this week. I suspect it's to help around the house a little, since being over eight months pregnant is kind of a drag as far as housework goes. Although, it hasn't stopped my Mae from trekking to the machamba (small family garden/farm) and apparently working. My "aunt" is 23 like me! And lives in Maputo and is very nice and pretty. She wants to learn English. Don't we all. We compromise by her speaking english to me and me answering in Portuguese until her english runs out. Which is quick, since she only took a very little. Me, I've recently learned, i'm on the same level as a 10th grader would be. So in five weeks it's like i've taken two years of high school level language. Not bad, if I do say so myself.

Well, the day is beautiful, the sun is finally out, and my laundry is waiting. Two weeks worth of mud demands my attention.

Regarding the Nampula man that likes PCV's, Alfredo our safety man says," He won't attack you, he won't rape you. All he wants is the kiss. That is all. Just the kiss."

Until later, my sincere regard.

Happy Halloween!

And yes. Sometimes she does smile for pictures.

And no, my Portuguese instructions weren't enough to not have my head cut off...

Go figure.

A cheerful and frosted hello to everyone.

You may be reading this thinking to yourself, frosted, no way. Surely she must be using her extreme wit and excellent comedic timing to put a smile on my face. Oh no. If only I was. The past, say, twenty hours have been cold cold cold. It certainly doesn't help that I have only my Chacos to keep my toes toasty warm, but in general my entire body has been cold. So there you go. It's like a little slice of Michigan. But on to more positive things from the week.

This week was Mozambican Election Week Extravaganza!!! Which, for me, means that Wednesday people were up very early to see me running, and that my little siblings didn't have school. And one thing I learned on Wednesday, which was Election Day, is that 13 year olds the world over like to listen to bad rap music way too loud on bad speakers. In my little sister Samia's case, it is poor quality Portuguese rap music from the family TV. At seven in the morning. Which was enjoyable, until I had to sit next to the TV for my morning Riccoffy (Thank you Nestle for that freshly percolated “taste”). Just another learning experience. Election week also meant that I got to see a little slice of how elections take place here in Mozambique. Which is as follows:

People go to election stations and they receive a regular sized piece of printer paper. This is their ballot, and for the presidential ballot there are three pictures (color and nicely sized and detailed) of the three candidates, with their party logo, and their names. Just mark and X next to the best looking man, or party logo, or the person you find most qualified and fold the paper. Deposit said paper in, what seemed to me, an unsecured plastic box (but that may be different as I'm only going by what I saw on the nightly news). Then, for counting, one person takes out the ballot, says the name of the elected candidate, hands it to another person to display to the room, and then sets it in a pile on the floor. So that, I think, is why results won't be out until next week.

So that was that. And officials from the UN came to ensure a fair election, and so far the country has been calm, so here's to hoping I'll be staying for the next two years. If not, get ready mom and dad because back we'll come.

Election Week meant one more thing for me: PERMACULTURE! What is that, you may be asking. Well, let me tell you. When you cross permanent and agriculture you get the beauty of the Permaculture garden. Which is a beautiful thing, when it isn't put together over two days in the rain and fifty degree weather. But the Peace Corps very nicely shipped in a Permaculture expert for us and we got a two day workshop on how, essentially, to put together very efficient gardens for ourselves and our communities when we get to site. I learned about plant spacing, companion plants (maize and pumpkin, which will make next year's thanksgiving awesome), and controlling water. I'm excited to have my own garden, but it's also a lot about educating people on how to gain food security with the greatest efficiency and lowest energy output. It was great, and kept all of us PCT's in an old colonial compound for two days which, we found, is heavily guarded by about 15 mean sounding dogs from 9:00 pm on.

So now I'm off to watch my first movie on my fun little netbook, technology permiting. Well, it's going to be The Tudors, actually. And if anyone can figure out how I'm going to keep up with The Office, 30 Rock, and Top Chef please let me know.

So I take my leave with this wise, Mozambican proverb:
Each animal with their own fur.

So hi to all of you lovely people.
This week was a big week. First I want to acknowledge that yes, with absolute certainty I tell you that my Mae is pregnant. If I had any more doubts, which I did, they were solved with my entire language class telling me today that my Mae is pregnant and how could I even question it. So mozeltov to Mae Ricardina, and I may have a tiny new sister in the coming months. We'll see. Hopefully the Baby Daddy is around once or twice more in the next seven weeks, which is what I have until site placement!!

In the meantime, I've been spending my days in a very predictable way, but has, apparently and unknowingly, brought me to the top of my language class. Today for language, our groups just cooked, which was good for Portuguese when the moms actually spoke in it. They tended to revert to Shangaan, which we PCT's felt gave us leave to speak together in English, which in turn didn't help our Portuguese. But you win some, you lose some. Lunch was three hours in the making and included matapa, which is cooked with ground leaves, peanut flour, coconut milk and oil, and various vegetable flavors. It also had couve which I love and reminds me a bit of broccoli. I think they may be vegetable cousins.
And then the topper! Fish! Which I didn't eat, but I did gut! I figured if I have visitors in the next two years I should at least know how to prepare fish, if not chicken too. So I cut me up some fish. I have to say, my knife skills are coming along nicely.

Anyway, during this cooking/talking class my language teacher said I was doing very well in class. Which I'm not sure how to take, since she isn't the strongest language teacher i've ever encountered. But I'll take it.

Before lunch we had our health class, and today was a session featuring two PLWHA (people living with HIV/AIDS). One woman, one man. I have to say, some of what they shared with us was a bit surprising. Well, just on the man's side. He is HIV positive, as well as his wife, and has all the education about ARV's that he's on, about transmission to children as well as transmission on varying strains of HIV between the two of them. And yet he insists on not protecting his wife or himself, claiming trust, and of needing to have two boys in the future to ensure his family legacy. Really. I know there are a lot of steps a family can take to reduce the chance of PTCT (parent to child transmission), but wow. It says a lot when two HIV positive, poverty stricken people are that insistent on trying for a male child. The resistance to protection between partners is also something to be angry and desperate about. The man is ill, and has been That was why he was tested in the first place. And yet, a simple step is thrown out the window due to the cultural practices and slight preferences of Mozambique's patriarchal society. One day. We'll get 'em one day.

We took a field-trip through the mud this week. It had rained for the past several days, leaving my sandals looking more like platforms, since the mud is all clay and that will stick to shoes like Xima sticks to ribs. We tracked 26 pairs of muddy shoes to the hospital and say what a secondary level hospital looks like. Small. Clean, but small. The infrastructure is clearly lacking, but the staff was very warm and what was available was clean and efficient. And the hospital is connected with support groups for the area, which they recommend and utilize, so it is better than many other hospitals at that level. In Moz, there are four levels of health facilities: primary, which are health posts, secondary which are small hospitals, tertiary which are provincial hospitals, and then quartile, of which there technically is only one, in Maputo. So it was nice to preview the type of facility I will probably be very well acquainted with.

Well, the power has already gone out once tonight, so I'm going to finish my book and end this crazy Friday night at a prompt 9:30pm.

Book to Read:
28: Stories of AIDS in Africa

Kbye!

PS
I just successfully wrote the entry at home, put it on my flashdrive, and got it here. You have NO idea how many times I tried doing it before. I'm a computer genius!

So, today will be a bit short because the man that runs the internet cafe is looking at me very suspiciously because i was squirming, trying to decide if i should ask for a bathroom, and i think maybe he thinks iºm on drugs or something equally suspicious. He is standing now, looking at me. Great impression.

Anyway, some exciting news. In just a few weeks i will be traveling to an unknown destination in Moz to visit a PCV site. This could be in the north of the country, in which case i will be flown, or just nearby. Depending on where they think i would like to see. So that is neat. Hopefully the elections will not cause any problems with it.

In other news, my family recently expanded to include my cute 3 year old host-sister, which we call Mae, i think. And mae means mom. So, that was a little confusing at first. Especially since her name is actually Tanya. Anyway, she is in from Maputo, to spend some time away from the big city living and with us country folk. She is super cute, super curious, and i am pretty sure she smiles 90% of the time. I did notice she does not smile when sleeping, and she does not sleep much so that accounts for the 10% she does not smile.

Have you noticed i am not using any contractions? Perhaps by my next entry i will have discovered the appostrophe on these forsaken keyboards. Or maybe i will just have sentences that are a little bit longer.

My mom recently introduced me to her boyfriend, so that was a nice family moment. In Mozambique it is very common and culturally expected for men to have women, sort of on the side. Anyway, Mae (the real mae) told me her boyfriend is married, and i could not help but notice that it is not to her. So that will spark some excellent conversations as soon as my Portuguese is up to snuff.

I visited the beautiful, coveted waterfalls. Ahem. I mean, rocks where, if there were water, it would be able to fall off of beautifully. It is the end of the dry season, so the two hour walk was rewarded by some great cliffs.

Today I was able to make my little brother smile at me for the first time. Apparently all it takes is a digital camera to be HILARIOUS. So now my popularity with little Kevin has increased tenfold, which is good since I was getting used to the idea that i would just get scowls and a forced "boa noite" from him.

Next week will be the start of our community projects. I will be assessing what a group in the community needs and how to provide it, essentially. It is something really small, like teaching some kids how to cough into your elbow, or to brush your teeth. Making a difference, one toothbrush at a time.

So, for now I will leave you with a popular myth in Moz:

HIV came from America and Americans intentionally spread it to Mozambique.

Hi everybody that i miss and even the ones I don't.
Just kidding. I'm sure I miss everyone that would know to come here and check up on me. So how are you all doing? I'm very eager to hear about your exciting lives because things have become a bit boring on my end. But just in case you want to know a little of my happenings, here I go.

About a week and a half ago I moved into my host family's house. It is at an undisclosed location in Mozambique and let me add quite lovely. We're in a sort of smaller town and in a few choice neighborhoods. My house is snug and cement, with a facy sort of chimney latrine. Not bad at all. I have my own room, with locks on the door and bars on the windows and so trust that i am very safe.

I have now fully kicked my five cups of coffee a day habit as well as any sugar habit i may have had. However, don't think i've gone terribly healthy. The ole' Moz diet is a lot of carbs and fats to keep up the energy of a physically intense day. The only downside? My day isn't physically intense. Unless you count how hard my brain works to understand things.

I'm learning a lot of things I never knew about HIV/AIDS, Mozambique in general (did you know that a lobolo is a sort of reverse dowry still in practice?), and how quickly my calves can navigate rocky terrain and hills when i'm running late in the morning.

I have a cell phone now, as you may or may not know. And I have a tv in my house as well as a dvd player, so if you want to send portuguese dvds i'm sure my family would love to have them. Or 90's rock/smooth jazz, micheal jackson, or contemporary rap or R&B.

Oh. My host-family here. It is a little confusing to me and will probably be even more confusing to you. Suffice to say that I now live with six people, three of whom are kids ages 3, 8, 13. My three year old family member just joined us and she is very very cute. But, apparently, mute to me. Or, really, she is shy and doesn't speak much Portuguese. Instead, she speaks shangala, which is the popular local dialect that most kids speak until school.

Well, there is a line of PCV's out the door to use this single computer in the internet cafe, so this is all for now.

But remember, when it comes to landmines in Mozambique there is a simple rule. If you didn't drop it, don't pick it.