The clock on my work laptop counts backwards. Literally. I look at the time, and 10 or 20 minutes later, it’s 15, 20, even 30 minutes earlier! And I can’t seem to figure out what the glitch is or how to fix it. Anyone know??? :-) Tis a pleasant surprise when I look at my watch and it’s a good hour or so later than I thought. But still, hmmm...
maybe there really is such a thing as “Africa time”!
Aug 14, 2008
Aug 13, 2008
i am elderly
The life expectancy here in Mozambique is said to have dropped to 34 years of age. Resources state anywhere between 34-41 years of age. The rapid decline is due to the spread of HIV/AIDS. Here, I am considered elderly.
As an American, you kind of grow up thinking you will live forever. (or at least I did :-)) There are so many things you want to do and see. Opportunities, you are told, are endless. To live in a country, walk down a street, and work with colleagues who live with the reality that they are in their last years is something to think about. If I had grown up in this country, and I was among the average Mozambiquan whose life was in its last few years, what would I be thinking right now? What would I be doing? Would I have lived the life I wanted?
HIV is not a disease you outwardly see on the street; its not like leprosy or a bad case of boils. It is often unseen until it makes you really sick. And then, you will not be on the streets or in the workplace. You will not be seen. It is said that one out of eight people in Mozambique is living with HIV. One out of eight! That’s an incredibly high number of people. I pass many of those people on the streets each day.
I’ve noticed a few people in their later years, but as I look around, there are many more young people. I’m told in the villages and out in the rural communities where our projects are at work, there is a great challenge to pass along traditional knowledge to the next generation – there is an entire generation missing. We want to encourage agricultural techniques that will help to sustain crops through droughts and floods – but there is no one to teach these techniques. No one to share what has worked in the past in these areas that are at risk for disasters. An entire generation is missing.
If there is an entire country where the “elderly” are between the ages of 25-35 years, is that not reason to be alarmed? It alarms me that I am among the elderly. Not in terms of age, but in terms of wisdom and instruction. Who will teach the next generations? Are those who are considered elderly here also considered wise? Are these really their golden years? Personally I feel my life is just getting started. I’m getting to the good stuff and there’s so much ahead. However, I don’t know that the average 29 year old here is feeling the same way.
As an American, you kind of grow up thinking you will live forever. (or at least I did :-)) There are so many things you want to do and see. Opportunities, you are told, are endless. To live in a country, walk down a street, and work with colleagues who live with the reality that they are in their last years is something to think about. If I had grown up in this country, and I was among the average Mozambiquan whose life was in its last few years, what would I be thinking right now? What would I be doing? Would I have lived the life I wanted?
HIV is not a disease you outwardly see on the street; its not like leprosy or a bad case of boils. It is often unseen until it makes you really sick. And then, you will not be on the streets or in the workplace. You will not be seen. It is said that one out of eight people in Mozambique is living with HIV. One out of eight! That’s an incredibly high number of people. I pass many of those people on the streets each day.
I’ve noticed a few people in their later years, but as I look around, there are many more young people. I’m told in the villages and out in the rural communities where our projects are at work, there is a great challenge to pass along traditional knowledge to the next generation – there is an entire generation missing. We want to encourage agricultural techniques that will help to sustain crops through droughts and floods – but there is no one to teach these techniques. No one to share what has worked in the past in these areas that are at risk for disasters. An entire generation is missing.
If there is an entire country where the “elderly” are between the ages of 25-35 years, is that not reason to be alarmed? It alarms me that I am among the elderly. Not in terms of age, but in terms of wisdom and instruction. Who will teach the next generations? Are those who are considered elderly here also considered wise? Are these really their golden years? Personally I feel my life is just getting started. I’m getting to the good stuff and there’s so much ahead. However, I don’t know that the average 29 year old here is feeling the same way.
Aug 12, 2008
whistle while you work
There is a construction site directly in front of our office. My desk sits facing it. Most of the day the guys are not too exciting to watch, but today was a little different. The man in the orange hardhat whistled all day. All day long he whistled. His tune carried much more melody than the jackhammer!
Aug 8, 2008
frustration & google translate
I’ve been in Maputo for two weeks now. I’ve had an incredibly warm welcome to the office, a very thorough orientation of the organization and different programs, started writing grant proposals, made some new friends, and began to explore the city. Today I opened my work email and was overwhelmed with the fact that I couldn’t read any of my 50+ messages that were awaiting me. They are all in Portuguese.
Each morning the bartender at the hotel makes my espresso with my breakfast. He greets me with a big smile and asks how my sleep was and we share short phrases in Portuguese that he taught me the night before (as I await for my dinner). There’s a friendly routine we have. I’m grateful for the time and patience the staff at the hotel have with me. But this morning he wouldn’t give me my cup of espresso as I was in a hurry and my mind was racing too fast to remember how to ask for it in Portuguese. I try Spanish (as sometimes that will work) and he gets frustrated with me. He made me go and ask someone else to teach me the phrase and ask properly before I was able to receive my coffee.
The organization I work with is Christian affiliated in their various ministries and core values. Friday mornings all staff meet together to have a time of devotions and worship. I attended this morning. My supervisor spoke. The service was in Portuguese and again, I wished I could have understood what was being said.
I discovered Google translate to read my emails. I will continue to practice asking for my morning coffee and ordering my dinner. I will venture out this weekend in a taxi and use my dictionary and a map. I will keep practicing and learning. But I must admit the frustration has set in and I really wish I could understand this language. Not only for my job and communications, ordering my meals and getting around town, but for new relationships with my colleagues and friends. I have this whole new world I’m immersed in and its exciting and challenging, but also a tad bit frustrating without being fluent in their language. I’m missing so much.
Each morning the bartender at the hotel makes my espresso with my breakfast. He greets me with a big smile and asks how my sleep was and we share short phrases in Portuguese that he taught me the night before (as I await for my dinner). There’s a friendly routine we have. I’m grateful for the time and patience the staff at the hotel have with me. But this morning he wouldn’t give me my cup of espresso as I was in a hurry and my mind was racing too fast to remember how to ask for it in Portuguese. I try Spanish (as sometimes that will work) and he gets frustrated with me. He made me go and ask someone else to teach me the phrase and ask properly before I was able to receive my coffee.
The organization I work with is Christian affiliated in their various ministries and core values. Friday mornings all staff meet together to have a time of devotions and worship. I attended this morning. My supervisor spoke. The service was in Portuguese and again, I wished I could have understood what was being said.
I discovered Google translate to read my emails. I will continue to practice asking for my morning coffee and ordering my dinner. I will venture out this weekend in a taxi and use my dictionary and a map. I will keep practicing and learning. But I must admit the frustration has set in and I really wish I could understand this language. Not only for my job and communications, ordering my meals and getting around town, but for new relationships with my colleagues and friends. I have this whole new world I’m immersed in and its exciting and challenging, but also a tad bit frustrating without being fluent in their language. I’m missing so much.
Aug 7, 2008
Happy Birthday Carrie!!!
My little sister turns 25 today…that would make us…twins! (as I myself am 25 again this year :-)). Carrie, as I’ve tried calling you twice and you haven’t yet picked up the phone, I’m sorry, but I’ll have to send a very public birthday wish…
(don’t worry, I’m too afraid of your payback to post anything embarrassing!)
Cheers, little sister!
I love you!
lunch time walk
I took a long walk with a new friend at lunch today – and it was lovely! I’m more and more impressed with this city the more I see of it. I can’t get over how clean the streets are. Most are lined with big trees, wide sidewalks, and a lack of crowds. The city is not overcrowded in any way. The people are friendly and non-hassling. The sun is shining and there is a sea breeze that catches you when you step out to cross the street. School children with their matching uniforms and backpacks walk in threes, vendors await at corner streets with fresh fruit and juices, mamas with huge baskets of seeds and nuts on their heads pass by in brightly colored skirts. Everything looks better when you have a friend in the city. :-)
Aug 2, 2008
reasons why
There are many little reasons why I love Africa. Today as I was walking down the street on my lunch break a woman stepped out in front of me. She was tall and lean. Wearing a bright colored skirt and worn-out flip flops. On her head was a crate filled with Coca-cola bottles. She walked with ease and kept with my pace. I followed her for three blocks before I passed to turn, and noticed she was also talking on her mobile! As if it wasn’t enough to try and balance the large crate of glass bottles filled with liquid on her head. She had one hand up holding her phone as well. :-)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)