It is a fine, muggy, day here in Quelimane. Yes, I have traveled to the big city (perhaps I could call it the Big Mango?) for a very important work meeting. We are all gathered here to wait a lot, report on the water hauling and charcoal cooking we have done, and fabricate a two year plan for our communities. Alright, not all of our reports will be made up, but I am pretty sure most of mine will be. As far as that is concerned, I am playing the unfamiliarity-card. I am unclear how I can help my community, as I have yet to meet and understand the groups that are operating within it. It is only safe, and thus smart, I believe. But, when your boss demands a plan there is little alternative, and thus my homework begins.

I suppose I should add that I am basing my plan on the little I HAVE seen, and what I would WISH to do in a perfect, underdeveloped world. So I am going on something, but it is certainly more intuition than knowledge.

It is a sure thing that you are all thinking the same thing, and yes. I did almost get robbed yet again. That's a solid two for three on the attempted robberies, which is not a bad record. It is a passing grade here in Mozambique, and a batting average that I would not have been loath to have during my old college softball days. Not that I have ever really understood bagtting averages. But were I to, I am confident I would appreciate the good reliability that the theifs are displaying. This time it was in the central market, and I believe a different man, but he razored my purse! It was a very rude operation, especially since he was so sinister and sneeky about it I didn't even know he had cut the poor satchel until hours later. The poor thing. I slit that is growing every day, and I am terribly remiss in washing it too. It's a hard knock life, being a bag of mine in Mozambique.

It is also a hard life being my neighbor. I won't use any names, so as to protect identities in such a sensitive story, but we can just use João, Maria, and Ninho. João and Maria are married, and João is a professional curandeiro, or tranditional healer. Maria, however, takes a liking to Ninho who is a fresh, innocent bread maker and seller, and begins to woe him. He, not fully understanding the twisted world of love, believes in her passion and they consummate their love. Two years later, the maid of João informs him of their infidelity and he is enraged! The issue is taken to a community tribunal, which decides that Ninho should pay a large fine for his indiscretion. He finds the money and attempts to pay João, but João is not having it. Filled with pride and, apparently, and distaste for tainted money, he demands only that Ninho leave the neighborhood and surrounding neighborhoods. Ninho, being the young and stubborn man that he is, refuses. At this point, Maria has moved out of her house and is living with her mother, afraid for her safety. João, growing more and more infuriated every day with Ninho's refusal to remove, begins to threaten the life of the Dona of Ninho's house, or the woman who owns it. She, being cautious and unsure of the validity of the threats, has now evicted Ninho. Within a week he is gone. What's his plan now? To build a new house across the street from João, of course!
More, in the next Dias de nossas Vidas (Days of our Lives).
It IS like a telenovela, or soapopera, right?

Well, time to get serious about being a serious volunteer.

Until next time: stay safe and be thankful that women in the US generally don't have small incisions made in their skin, then filled with a grain of rice which is removed a few days later, all to create raised scarifications that allow for a man to get pleasure from a woman.