malaria walking

I figured out why all the Quelimanians walk so slow…they all have walking malaria! Or so is my theory. I unfortunately know a little about this as I’ve survived several bouts of malaria in this lovely little African town. I have since learned to recognize the signs of when the pesky little parasites start to make their way into my bloodstream and begin to multiply. There is first the sudden, random fever in the middle of the night, usually accompanied with a random earache or sore throat. By morning, it is gone. Almost as if you dreamt it. Then you begin to feel sleepy during the day and sleepy during the night. Sleepy all the time. You enjoy a good 10 hours of shuteye. The day the parasites have multiplied to show you a positive on a blood test is the day you are walking with malaria. You step outside into the bright bright sunshine that instead of making you smile, it makes you wince in pain. You step onto the street and suddenly every person on foot and every bicycle is making their way towards you with uncontrollable speed. Your ears begin to ring and you suddenly feel out of control. All sensors are down. All guards are down. You feel vulnerable and exposed. You try to speed up your pace to get to where you are going faster so that all this intense stimuli can stop…only…you find you cannot walk at your normal speed. And you slow down. And then you notice, you are now walking at the pace of every other local in Quelimane. You have malaria.

The encouraging news to dwell on is that you have medicine to treat it and you know that within four or five days all will be right again and you will be walking at your normal pace. The sun will no longer hurt but feel like a kiss on those early mornings and your awareness of all the crazy chaos in the streets will once again be filtered and you are able to carry on about your day in total awareness without it freaking you out.

I wish all Quelimanians had the privilege of this worry-free feeling of medication they know will work. Many do not. Many are lying in the hospital on cots right now. The majority keep walking with malaria as they do not want to be on the cot, or cannot afford to be on the cot. Homes don a malaria sick family member lying on a mat and unable to get well due to another contributing disease that will take their life, AIDS. I keep walking when I have malaria. I have to. I live in Quelimane.

"necrologia"

A necrologia, or obituary, pops into my inbox on a daily basis - an announcement that a colleague or a loved one of a colleague has passed away. Death is a daily reality for Mozambiquans. And it is something I have yet to grasp my mind around.

In light of the current national emergency of a cholera endemic, people are dying quickly. A local friend shared with me the number of students who passed away in her university class just last week – 5. The cholera treatment centers and hospitals are under-staffed and under-resourced. The infected populations are not able to access health care in time and without proper rehydration salts and antibiotics, they can die within 24 hours. This is an illness that is completely preventable and completely treatable – so why is it continuing to worsen? Why is the death rate continuing to rise? Our response is that the populations of communities here in Mozambique are so vulnerable to begin with; it is just another disaster to become victim to. Proper sanitation and clean water is only accessible to 50% of the Mozambiquan population. That translates to one of every two people in this country does not have access to clean water - half of an entire country population. Look at the person next to you – it would be them without clean water. Or worse, it could be you. It is unbelievable. Is clean water not a basic human need? None of us can live without it; yet thousands do every day. And then they die. This should not be happening. Clean hygiene and sanitation practices would quickly decrease the amount of cholera infected patients instantly; access to clean water would save the lives of hundreds who are currently dying from this preventative illness.

Cholera isn’t the only reason for death over here. The greatest cause by numbers is HIV/AIDS, followed my food insecurity, leading to malnutrition and starvation. The vulnerability of the communities increases the mortality rate of emergencies such as cholera and drought and floods. It increases the number of “necrologias” I receive on a daily basis. You can pray for the people of Mozambique.

“Here dies another day
During which I have had eyes, ears, hands
And the great world round me;
And with tomorrow begins another,
Why am I allowed two?”
-GK Chesterton.

fun african art

give me your eyes

Looked down from a broken sky
Traced out by the city lights
My world from a mile high
Best seat in the house tonight
Touched down on the cold black tile
Hold on for the sudden stop
Breath in the familiar shock
Of confusion and chaos
Are those people going somewhere?
Why have I never cared?

Give me your eyes for just one second
Give me your eyes so I can see
Everything that I keep missing
Give me your love for humanity
Give me your arms for the broken hearted
The ones that are far beyond my reach
Give me your heart for the once forgotten
Give me your eyes so I can see

Step out on a busy street
See a girl and our eyes meet
Does her best to smile at me
To hide whats underneath
There’s a man just to her right
Black suit and a bright red tie
To ashamed to tell his wife
He’s out of work
He’s buying time
Are those people going somewhere?
Why have I never cared?

I’ve been there a million times
A couple of million eyes
Just moving past me by
I swear I never thought that I was wrong
Well I want a second glance
So give me a second chance
To see the way you see the people all alone

Give me your eyes for just one second
Give me your eyes so I can see
Everything that I keep missing
Give me your love for humanity
Give me your arms for the broken hearted
The ones that are far beyond my reach
Give me your heart for the once forgotten
Give me your eyes so I can see

Lyrics by: Brandon Heath

read this:

Mozambique is prone to a wide range of natural disasters, which regularly cause major damage and set back economic growth, especially in the disaster-affected areas. The country has a land surface of about 799,380 km² and a total population of 20.1 million inhabitants, of which 51.9 per cent are female. The population is dispersed over 11 provinces, 128 districts, 394 administrative posts, 1,072 localities and 10,025 villages. Natural and man-made disasters have long-lasting consequences due to the high level of vulnerability and poverty of the population. This has been is further exacerbated by the debilitating HIV pandemic, which national prevalence rate is 16% (CNCS, 2007). The malaria country prevalence rates in children vary from 40% to 90% but it represents 30% of hospital deaths. Under-five mortality rate is 152 per 1,000 live births and maternal mortality ratio is 1,000 per 100,000 live births. Chronic malnutrition reaches 45.7% of the under-5 children in rural areas, reflecting the shocking level of food insecurity.

welcome home

I returned to Quelimane tonight. As I was cleaning up my apartment I happened to glance out the back window at the most beautiful sunset...I'm back in Africa.

The states is a glorious place filled with family and friends and food and lots and lots of options to endless wants. However...Africa has breathtaking sunsets. And although my quick shot over the rooftops behind my flat can do little justice to the majesty...I wanted to share a little pic.

what is the what

“Whatever I do, however I find a way to live, I will tell these stories. I have spoken to every person I have encountered these last difficult days…because to do anything else would be something less than human. I speak to these people, and I speak to you because I cannot help it. It gives me strength, almost unbelievable strength, to know that you are there. I covet your eyes, your ears, the collapsible space between us. How blessed are we to have each other? I am alive and you are alive so we must fill the air with our words. I will fill today, tomorrow, every day until I am taken back to God. I will tell stories to people who will listen and to people who don’t want to listen, to people who seek me out and to those who run. All the while I will know that you are there. How can I pretend that you do not exist? It would be almost as impossible as you pretending that I do not exist.”

“What is the What”
Excerpt from the autobiography of Valentino Achak Deng; written by Dave Eggers.
I highly recommend the read. :-)

meet the farmers

This past week I spent three days out in the "field". I traveled up to the districts of Mopeia and Morrumbala in Zambezia Province to visit with the local farmers who are actively involved in our agricultural projects. It was incredibly refreshing to see a different area of Mozambique than what I have experienced thus far. These districts were lush and green with tall grass, fields of maize, thick bush and rock formations randomly protruding throughout the landscape. The air was much cooler in the evenings (though the sun was incredibly intense during the day)! I accompanied our director of agricultural programs in Zambezia Province, who is a wealth of knowledge! The four hour drive to and from and the walks through the bush and meeting with the farmers was a wonderful educational experience for me. (I'm still learning to identify the different crops planted and harvested here in Moz.)

*Side note: for those of you who may not know, Mozambique had no annual emergencies this year! No flooding or cyclones. The southern half of the country is experiencing a drought, but it has not yet reached emergency status. I therefore have been transferred over to Agriculture to continue working on up and coming proposals and to do some monitoring and evaluation on current projects. I find it a bit ironic the year I work abroad on an emergency response program there are no emergencies!!

The field site visits were positive for the majority. The results of current projects were cut in half with the success. The majority of the multiplication plots that WV created, trained and supported were doing well; though some were planted late and therefore are lacking in average growth for this time of year. Other fields where farmers hired out workers who did not receive the training were suffering. A couple fields were quite miserable in that they didn't succeed at all. A new animal traction project has started and we spoke with three different farmers groups in these two districts to participate in the project. A cow and a plow will be provided to introduce an alternative to weeding by hand and hoe. The cow will also produce milk and eventually be joined with a bull to produce a calf, which will be given to another farmers groups to sustain the project. The lack of rainfall was an issue with all farmers. Weeding was the biggest complaint and culprit to the crops suffering. Hopefully the animal traction project will assist in this problem. Crops planted and assessed included maize, rice, cotton, millet, sesame and peanut. And a few others exotic to N.America and which I can't remember at the moment. :-)

I really enjoyed this time out in the field and meeting with the farmers. It brought to life the words I've been writing in proposals for the past few months. A beautiful thing!

Pics are posted on my flickr site. You can check out the sunshine and the green. :-)

little fingers

I bent over to look at the little white worm that was being pulled from the root of a peanut plant. It was killing the crop. I could barely see it, the size of my pinky fingernail. It is hard to believe such a little thing can do so much damage.

The hot midday African sun beat down on my already lobster-red neck and shoulders, I swatted fly after fly, brushing off fuzzy little inchworms that continually wanted to crawl up my pant legs. Little boys in ragged shorts with big bellies and protruding belly buttons and huge grins with missing front teeth stared at me; their bare feet covered in the rich soil as they nervously tried to stand still. I was among our field staff and visiting farmers who are actively involved in WVs agricultural projects. It was the fifth site we’d seen this day.

Straining to understand the Portuguese and focus on the conversation being had around the uprooted plant, I felt a tiny little brush upon my elbow. I figured it was a dragonfly. I continued to try and focus. A few moments later, I again felt a light brush up against my skin, a tickle almost. I turned around to see what it was. My eyes met those of a small child, a baby, whose eyes got really big and then quickly gave me the most beautiful sheepish smile. Her pudgy little fingers grabbed my arm. The mother met my gaze and grinned.

The child’s touch, the slightest most honest touch, grabbed at my heart today. Today I saw more poverty, more real life, than I want to tell about; I wasn’t humbled, I didn’t feel guilt or pity. I came home and cried. Mozambique is a country on the recovery of a deep and debilitating war. It is a country in extreme poverty. The term “rural” is an understatement; this county is made of bush land. High, thick, African bush land. The animals are gone; they were hunted and poached during the war. The crops are scarce and struggling. The farmers, the women, and the children all work very hard back breaking labor for very little profit. (Have you ever seen a peanut plant and how many of them you need to harvest a handful of peanuts? Many.) They struggle to have food to eat. Water is scarce; clean water is hard to find. Bellies are protruded and many lie ill on straw mats sick and dying of horrible disease. This land is beautiful from the outside - lush green bush, rock formations popping up throughout the landscape between fields of maize and cotton and peanut fields. Fluffy white clouds above in a bright blue sky. However, inside this country, where the people are, is a different reality.

This face of poverty is not necessarily new to me. But to walk within the thick of the bush and find myself meeting the faces of families catching shade beneath their mud and straw hut homes, to crouch down in the soil of their fields and point out the worms that are eating their crops, stripping them of any small amount of income to buy food, to feel the soft little fingers of a curious baby reaching out to touch me from behind – it broke my heart today. We all live with a different perspective, a choice to decide how we interpret the things that we see, what we do with our feelings, our thoughts, our beliefs, the things we share with each other and the things we keep to ourselves. I wish I could forget this feeling I had today. Leave it here in the thick African bush up in the middle of an isolated province in poverty stricken Mozambique. I really wish I could. My life would be easier to live if I could walk away. But those little fingers that reached out to me in what most likely was curiosity of my white skin, those little fingers touched me today. They brought me into the world I would right now so desperately like to leave behind and not be responsible to know of. It was the little fingers that turned me from my meeting and examining practical ways to meet the families’ needs to the eyes of the individuals I stood amongst. My attention was turned away from the problem and focused for a few moments on the people. Not on their needs and what it would take to feed them, to provide clean water, to teach them ways in which they could progress beyond the low yielding peanut crops and mud huts; but focus on the individuals I was standing next to, who had touched me and brought me into their world. I was at a loss of what to say, of how to react, so I didn’t. I smiled and turned my attention back to the meeting. And then I came home and cried.

I don’t need to wonder how such a tiny little worm can infect an entire crop; it only took a few tiny little fingers to touch me.

'bob' has been busy...

This past week I have had the privaledge of many new little 'bobs' surprising me! He is multiplying! And quickly. Little baby geckos are now seen scurrying across my floor, ceiling, even crawling out of my bed covers!! The funny thing with this story is that I was commenting on my multiplying geckos to an American friend who also lives in Quelimane - her "bob" (and yes, she actually named her first gecko in her house bob also! 9 months ago!) has also been multiplying. It must be the season.

The really funny bit - she was commenting on the multiplying geckos to our Mozambiquan friend who then asked her a few days later how the "baby crocodiles" in her house were doing! My friend gasped! "There are no baby CROCODILES in my house!!" Her friend continued to insist on the "crocodiles" that she was told about...gecko evidently translates to crocodile in Portuguese, but not back to English!! :-)

this is 'bob'

He normally resides in my pantry or up along the top of my kitchen walls. This evening he delighted me with his presence in my shower!!! Ola Bob!

visa run

I made a visa-run to Blantyre, Malawi this past weekend. On the ride there I slept - when I awoke at the border it felt as if I'd arrived in a completely different land! The air was COOL, the humidity was gone, mountains provided a brilliant backdrop to bright green tea plantations and tall rows of corn. It was so lush and green and colorful. Absolutely beautiful!! The mud and straw thatched huts turned to log and concrete homes. The road became paved. Bicycles were replaced with trucks and cars. Blantyre has a shopping center with a ShopRite, a Malawi version of Target, more than two restaurants :-), and a cinema! And...in Malawi they speak ENGLISH! All too good to be true! I couldn't believe I hadn't come sooner. I didn't want to leave. :-)

A colleague of a colleague gave me a ride to Blantyre and offered me to stay with his family in their home. I enjoyed home-cooked Peruvian meals and played legos with their youngest son. He is four and very talkative. :-) The compound they live on is just outside of Blantyre, up on a hill, with the most magnificent view. The air was so cool and fresh. I slept like a baby!

Here are a few (motion) snapshots from the truck - starting in Moz, crossing the border, and back again. The ride there took about six hours; the return trip took 12 1/2, complete with a flat tire on a new Land Rover (with an inadequate jack) on the one stretch of land that no cell phone reaches, no electricity can be found, 8pm, and it was raining. Thankfully I had a flashlight and an umbrella with me! The chickens on the top of the truck weren't so lucky...

belly rumblings

I was lying in bed early this morning listening to the children laugh and play in the street. My belly started to rumble and I held it for a few minutes. I could feel the morning hunger creeping in. I am reading a book titled "What is the What" by Dave Eggers. It is based on the life story of a Sudanese “Lost Boy”, Achak, who traveled through Sudan to Ethiopia and then to Kenya on foot, displaced by a horrific civil war. Thousands of Sudanese boys made this walk; hundreds died along the way. Achak speaks of the pains of hunger; the signs of death. As I lie in my comfy bed I think of Achak and the hunger he must have felt. I have no comparison. Its easy to think of this story when you’re reading it as a horrific account of war; painful acts of violence in a different time. Except that it’s not a different time. It is still happening today. Many children are hungry all around the world. Many have pains in their bellies; their bellies extended, their lips cracked. Achak tells of the boys rubbing their necks to try and get moisture in their painfully dry and cracked throats.

I don’t see this hunger here in Mozambique. I’m sure it exists. It may even be here in Quelimane or outside in the zone. But it’s not visual to me on a daily basis. I wondered how I would feel when faced with the hunger season. I am no longer in the village and therefore my eyes are shielded. My belly is quite full. It doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. I just can’t see it. I wish I lived in a world that if I couldn’t see it, it didn’t exist. I wish I could live a positive and joyful life with complete confidence that if I do, everyone else will. We speak about faith being a belief without seeing. Do we have faith in the people we don’t meet? In their lives, their circumstances to be real without seeing it for our own eyes? Do we have faith that someone else is caring for these unseen? Or do we just lie in our comfy beds long enough to think of what we should eat for breakfast, forgetting what’s outside our windows? I admit, my brief moment of thinking of Achak and his story was fleeting; my hungry belly won out and I found some coveted granola with berries (which we don’t have here - thanks Mom!); once the cold milk filled the bowl everything else faded away. Its far too easy.

p.s.

“yeah, i'm sure its not raining there. and the taliban put down their ak's and homemade bombs and started farming again. :-)”

I found this last little line on my brother’s email this morning quite funny! (He’s currently in the Middle East) I had received an email earlier in the week telling me to be careful because there are news reports of flooding occurring in Mozambique. In my "p.s." response I briefly stated not to worry, it’s not even raining! (Tis the truth, Andrew!!! :-)) It’s not raining. And there are no floods. Whoever is showing that footage is LYING! I am here. It is dry and hot!

There are no floods this year. At least not yet. There are predictions that some may occur in early February, but only in very lowland areas that flood with normal rainfall. I find it a bit funny that the year I spend abroad working on an emergency response program there is no emergency. I’m blaming this on my mother’s diligent prayers. :-) Not that I want the floods for these people – I don’t. A girl just needs a little excitement sometimes. It’s getting a little boring over here. :-)

p.s. - think I just jinxed it?!

feliz ano novo!

I finally have a chance to sit and read through some news, my friends blogs, catch up on my emails. My inbox is flooded with disturbing photos of what's happening in Gaza. Pictures no one should ever see. I wish they were created in some sick-o's mind and computer generated to spread evil - but I have a feeling that's not the case. My heart aches. My stomach churns. How do things get so out of control? And how do we stop it? History continues to repeat itself. Each new year comes, we make resolutions, we have good intentions, and we're back to our old habits by Valentine's Day. Is it our fault? Is it human nature? Are we just not programed to change? The thing is, there seems to be a lot of horrible happening; a lot of changes for the worse. This is why I don't keep up with the news or read my emails. :-) Its discouraging. However, reading through my friends blogs I was encouraged. I have some amazing friends doing amazing things around the world. Fighting against the discouragement, the horrifics, the lack of humanity in our actions. There is good being done; we just need to keep fighting for it. And maybe this year we fight a little harder. I'm going to steal a friend's happy new year from her blog (thanks, jill!) - she wishes us all peace in this new year. As do I. May it be a happy one. A one of good cheer. AND a year we STOP the horrifics and start to bring PEACE. May that peace begin with each of us. Feliz Ano Novo! - as we say in Mozambique. :-) May this year be full of blessings we share with one another. Blessings of peace.

"the Lord bless you & keep you;
the Lord make his face shine upon you
& be gracious to you;
the Lord turn his face toward you
& give you peace."

*Numbers 6:24-26

2:17 am

i awake by the slap of a hand. i sit straight up. i hear buzzing. i can feel my cheeks dripping with moisture. where am i? what just happened?

its only mosquitoes. i am safe. but why am i so hot?

the air is thick. i open my eyes. i see nothing. i start to itch. another slap to the face. now there is only silence.

the power has gone out.

i stumble in the dark and find my flashlight. i drink some water. i go to the window to get some air. the room has started to get stuffy. the air outside is even hotter. i close the window.

must kill the mosquito flying around.

i check the clock. its 2:17am. i check the fuse box. no trips. i look outside. down the street has light. across the way has light. our block has no light. dogs begin to bark. a fight has broken out. within minutes it is silent again.

i only hearing buzzing. i only hear mosquitoes. i lay back down, cover my head with the sheet, try and hold my breathe. its too hot to lay still. i close my eyes and wish for sleep.

4:30 am

a perfect picture

There is an old round theatre in the middle of town. I walk past it every morning. It has five round pillars on the front steps. This morning there were five homeless people sleeping in the shadow of each pillar, bracing themselves from the hot morning sun. One had a raggedy old t-shirt hanging on a clothes hanger above him.

Mozambique is a very impoverished country. If there was a face to poverty, you can see it here. If you open your eyes to the poverty, you can easily become depressed. It can eat inside of you until there’s little hope for change. You can start to feel empty. It will make you feel sick. However, you can also keep your eyes closed to the faces of the poor. To those who are hungry, sick, in need of employment and a roof over their heads. They are kids that play soccer in the street. They are elderly women who sift through the garbage bins at night. They are mentally ill who walk around with one shoe, no shirt and a glaze in their eyes. You can avert your eyes and not see them. You can walk past the outstretched hand without breaking a stride. You can go on living your life as if they don’t. It is harsh. But it’s the truth. Sometimes it is easy to close your eyes; and other times there is nothing more you can do. You feel paralyzed by the reality you are surrounded in.

A friend once said, this is “the perfect picture of poverty”. To make it ideal, to highlight and paint a pretty picture – it is here in Quelimane. In Mozambique. The picture of poverty comes drawn with bright sunshine, beautiful sunsets and coconut trees high up in the sky. There are days you can only see the beauty in the picture. And there are days when all you can see is poverty.

urgency

A boy about ten years of age ran up behind me as I entered my friend’s apartment. I didn’t see him. Just as I opened the door (I had a key) he pushed his body up against mine to also get inside. As I hadn’t seen him behind me, his sudden urgency frightened me and I pushed him away and closed the door. Only the door wouldn’t close as he continued to push harder and harder to get in. He wanted something. And he was persistent. And quite forceful. After a few minutes of this tug and war I was able to close the door and lock it. He continued to push. And then the doorbell rang. His fingers held down the button so hard it became a constant noise of high-pitched urgency – he wanted in. For the next 15 minutes he rang that doorbell. He was not giving up easily.

I sat straight up in bed this morning with a sense of urgency filling my chest. I don’t know why. The incident with the little boy came to my mind. How often do we demonstrate this sense of urgency in our lives? How often do we live by faith that when the urgency comes to us, there is a higher power that is available to take it? To calm us. To provide for that need that is pressing on our hearts so. Not often enough.

Speaking with my friend later that night we concluded the boy probably wanted food. I felt awful I turned him away. But I was surprised and a bit frightened by his urgency. Was he just a kid looking for trouble? Playing around? Or was he really in need of food? Desperate enough to do whatever it took to fill the ache inside of him?

Living in places such as an African country with a history of war and famine or even on some of our own city streets in the US, you can come face to face with those who are hungry. When I get hungry, I get crabby. I get short. And eventually I wear down to have no energy. But then I get food. I don’t know what would happen to me if the food didn’t come. Would I be desperate enough to beg for it? To push myself into someone’s home, steal from someone’s pocket, or lift an empty hand and look someone in the face begging for help? Would I do that? Could I do that? Or is my pride too big? We’re taught not to beg, not to lie, not to steal. Are there exceptions to these rules? How much judgment should we place on those who break the rules and live a life so far removed from our own that we could never walk in their shoes? They are wearing no shoes. How can we judge? And more importantly, how do we help? How do we help lesson their pain? The hunger? Can we help?

There is a sense of desperate urgency in so many lives of people we meet everyday. It may not be visible. It may not be knocking on our door, begging. But I would take a bet it is pushing its way inside our hearts and maybe even inside our lives. Can you ignore it? Can you walk away? Is there something you can do to help fill the ache? The pain. The hunger. Will it remain?

retraction

I spoke too quickly. No internet at home. No skype. No laughing at my sister on the big screen tv. :-) I know I am completely spoiled to even have the ability for internet in my home in Mozambique. I was thinking of our time at Daystar in Athi River, Kenya and how us crazy American students would do whatever we needed to get on that bus or hitchhike in a matatu or back of a truck to get into Nairobi on a Saturday and anxiously climb those stairs to Lazards and check our email. The days we had to wait for an open computer – torture! I have some amazing friends who have put up with my impatience! (I may have been the worst one. :-)) I remember once Katie and I were meeting the girls at Java downtown (and then we were going to check email) and we had hitchhiked in, after several attempts, squeezing into a full matatu sitting in the very back with very little space. I hope for Katie’s sake, I fell asleep on that ride. :-) When we arrived in Nairobi, it was raining and we were literally dumped into a pile of garbage. The matatu door opened and we jumped out…into a wet, stinky, smokey pile of garbage. I remember thinking all I wanted to do was check my email! There was also the trip with the bloody toe, the runaway matatu chase when they made us whities duck from whomever was chasing us down the wrong way of a one way alley, and the time we had to hide from the angry street mob who blocked our bus ride back to campus. But not every trip was so exciting; the good ones we got ice cream at Java as well as emails! Those were fabulous Saturdays to get us through the next week. :-)

I am thankful I can walk to the office or a friend’s house here and use their internet when mine doesn’t work – no sweaty stinky full matatu rides or angry mobs keeping me from the outside world. Times have definitely changed. ;-)

butterflies, hot toes, & technicians

My alarm went off far too early this morning. As I stepped out onto the street I was greeted with a bom dia of the guard and warm sunshine. Then a peculiar thing happened – a monarch butterfly flew in front of me and fluttered in circles - all the way to the office! (It is a good four or five blocks with many turns.) The butterfly intrigued me. It was almost as if it was leading me somewhere or wanted me to see something. When I arrived to the office, it flew away. Hmm. It did give me a few moments to enjoy the morning and not stress on the events of the day. A nice little distraction.

My afternoon walk back from lunch and a Portuguese lesson had my toes burning! The warm sunshine turned into some kind of laser beam. :-) The ten minutes to the office were so hot that the metal zipper on my bag hurt to touch.

Technicians kept coming to my house today. Three different ones. All were saying the same thing in Portuguese over and over and over. My Internet has been out at the house for over a week – so I’ve been trying to get it fixed. This is no small task in Quelimane when you are not fluent in Portuguese nor have all day every day to sit at home and wait for the technicians to arrive. Yesterday the excuse was he couldn’t find a bicycle taxi to take him into town. Interesting. My house is on the same block as the phone company. Today was a success though! After two visits, a technician brought his friend and they fixed it. The Internet has been working fine until we had a massive storm and everyone’s connection went out – and came back three days later. Mine never returned. When the techs saw my computer they would shake their heads and mumble something disgruntle and kept repeating to me “windows vista!” “windows vista!” and I kept replying no. (I have a macbook.) They tried to take my computer and push a bunch of buttons – which obviously didn’t work. Oh but it must be my computer that is broken and not their connection! If only I could communicate better. :-) They kept speaking louder and louder and pacing in my living room – but eventually google popped up on their “windows vista” and all was right with the world again. I even got a new ethernet cable out of the deal.