Cobras

So there was quite a bit of stir around the orfonato last week. One afternoon right as everybody was finishing lunch we noticed smoke from next door over the wall. The wall is about 8ft high, so even I had to climb it while simultaneously hoisting kids up on my shoulders. It was quite a sight, but unfortunately, no pictures. Once up on the wall is became obvious what was going on. After all: Where there's smoke...

...there's FIRE. Say it like "FY-yuh" for a more dramatic effect. Go ahead, nobody's listening.
and more FY-yuh! Upon questioning the neighbors, we soon learned that they were burning up the ground looking for cobras. "Interesting," we thought to ourselves. We just had to know more.

So we all hopped the wall (or walked around it) in order to aid in the search. Now I must clarify, when I say cobras, I mean it as the Portuguese word for snake. What we looking for was actually vipers, spitting cobras, and mambas. People were literally saying "Here, cobra-cobra," as if they were luring the snake out of its pit into broad daylight.

There were many false alarms caused by Christina's brother-in-law Mike (who was visiting for two weeks from Seattle). Its very obvious to see Mike in the picture above because he is the only one not wearing red. And for those of you who still can't find him, Mike is the huge white guy.

California ain't got nothing on us.

What were we to use in the event of finding the elusive cobra the neighbors were looking for? After much debate among the elder members of the orphanage, we came to a nearly unanimous decision: Use big sticks to whack the crap out of the snake. I say nearly unanimous because, as you can see, my solution was to baby Dorcas as a human shield.

Like Sherman through Atlanta that fire left nothing behind. Once everybody has surveyed the aftermath (and we concluded that the high pitch sound we were hearing was the fire hissing and not snakes crying) the neighbors informed us that the reason they did not salt the earth after scorching it was because the fire was intended to clear the brush to plant crops, and not because they found a snake as we thought (read: hoped).

In other snake-related news, I want to introduce you guys to Isac-peqeno (little Isac). Isac is the kind of kid that is always doing really creative, innovative things, and always leaving a trail of terror. He's the kind of kid that when he grows up is either going to bring the next big technological revolution to fuel-injectors or will accidentally blow up the Govenor's mansion in a pyrotechnic display. Anyways, back to the snake stuff. When you are climbing trees around here, the two things you have to worry about are snakes, and falling.

Isac-peqeno was worried more about snakes. He fractured his arm and they set it in a big plaster cast. For the first day, he walked around without a shirt, and I couldn't help but laugh at the cast (I'm a horrible person, I know). He was pretty miserable for about 3 days. But now he's fine and running around and playing games. Now I can't help but laugh whenever I see him because it looks like he has one arm (again, I'm a horrible person,I know). But how often does a one armed person run around playing soccer or trying to catch giant crickets.

Coming soon: Inselbergs. What are they and how do we get rid of them.

Basketball Jones

So, there are many hidden meanings in the title, and I'm sorry I have not put up the cobra pictures yet (its a great story, I promise). So, a couple of days back, courtesy of Christina's sister Ann, we got ourselves a basketball! We went to the secondary school that's about 2 blocks away. First of, its probably the nicest school in Mozambique because it was built by the World Bank within the last decade. Which means that parts of it are air conditioned and its not decaying on itself. It is also the place where we get our water, because they have their own well (we're still working on ours). Second off, anytime time I go anywhere is bound to attract attention. See Pictures about when I drive the truck.

Now imagine that the hype is now doubled. Christina's brother in law Mike accompanied us to the outdoor basketball court at the school. Now imagine that Mike is even taller and stands out more in public than me. I conservatively put myself at 6'3", and he's got 2 inches over me easy. So after the usual song-and-dance of arguing with security over whether or I am a threat to their existence before they let me enter their campus, we start walking through the school to get to the gym. It felt like all 200 students that were there came out to watch us, and for all I know they thought Mike and I were pro NBA players. Its was also cool then for the kids from the orphanage that attend the school because we could say hello to them and then they could tell everybody "Yah, they're NBA players. Yah, They know Michael Jackson. Yah, they're my friends."

The basketball was a blast for the kids to get to scrimmage with us. We just played a little 3-on-3 for a while. There were definitely some kids there want wanted to strut their stuff, so it was fun to steal the ball or block them every now and then just to let then know who's the boss (bonus points if you get the picture reference).
After Mike and I stopped playing it quickly devolved into what appeared to be an intra-squad scrimmage between the Washington Generals (more bonus points if you get THIS one).

The second meaning of the story is just something you can't experience until you're either here in Africa or at a Dave Matthews concert. Every morning, myself and the rest of the neighborhood have a few simple chores: get our water before it gets too hot, start on breakfast (if there is food) and rake the yard. Raking the yard consists of getting all the leaves that have fallen off of the tree, gathering them with all the huge clumps of pollen that have fallen off the tree, putting into a big pile, and burning it (potentially using it to roast peanuts, too).

The problem is that every day, everybody decides that the best place to burn the pollen is right next to the fence behind my bungalow. The other problem is that everyday the pollen has about the same aroma as Marijuana.

Yes, I know what you're thinking. Let me assuage your fears by assuring you that I am a good responsible kid, but I did go the University of Washington and would visit Fremont on occasion (by necessity, I assure you) so the aroma of wacky tobacky is not unfamiliar to me. I should also tell you that I am certain that the amount of burning foliage I'm exposed to is having no effect on me. I have, however, developed large lapses in my attention span and rather insatiable urge to snack on cheetos all the time. More on that news as it develops, if I remember...

Hop aboard the train to crazy-ville

So, Victor and Christina left for three days to Pemba, meaning that I am now king of the orphanage! Just kidding. People much more qualified than I are running the place. And while Victor's absence does not necessarily mean chaos, it does mean that everything is starting to go to hell in a lovely, traditional African hand-woven basket.

So far we've had: People learning to drive the big truck using the trial-by-fire method, boys dressing like girls, the girls holding a weight lifting competition (the real ones, not the boys pretending to be girls), people passing out from heat-exhaustion and smoke inhalation, killer rats on the roof, a freak dust storm, impromptu street-fighting lessons courtesy of yours truly (we watched Rambo 3 a few days ago, so that makes me an expert), a broken alternator, no water in the cistern, a flooded cistern, we lost power, people have been threatening to eat me, and I accidentally started two Michael Jackson rumors.

So far its been a pretty eventful anything-that-can-go-wrong-will first 8 hours without adult supervision. It only gets better from here. Be sure to tune in for the next post entitled: Cobras. Pictures included.

Pictures!!!

You want it, we got it. Just to give you a few snapshots of what life has been like up to this point. Whenever we go somewhere, its usually piling in the back of the truck and hitting the road. I've found that it doesn't matter if I'm riding or driving, I usually attract attention. If I'm riding, I usually get shouts of "Ihali" meaning 'how are you' or "ihali, macunya" which means 'how are you, white person". If I'm driving the truck there are usually atleast 5 or 6boys in the back. Usually we're out getting supplies, which only requires 3 people to do. The other 2 or three boys are to beat people off the truck because people jump on thinking that I'm hiring workers for the day.

Here's a shot of Victor in the back of the truck with us. As much business as there is needing to be tended to, I think he likes to passear (joy-ride) just as much as everybody else here. The other feet and passengers you see are when a group from South Carolina came out for 10 days about two weeks ago.


Here I am in my element. My portuguese is rough around the edges, but I'm fluent in math, science and physics. They were all shocked to learn I like math and even more shocked when I said "I would help them with their homework" that I didn't mean "I'll do it for you". The school system here works basically on attrition. How long can you fake your way through while actually learning enough to pass your exams at the end of the year. If you're not good enough you pay bribes, get somebody else to take it for you, etc. Some of their teachers are also horrible, and I am pointing out errors in their notes constantly. I'm also fairly certain that if I walked into any classroom and said I was an engineer from America, they'd just leave and let me teach. I might try it someday.

I just thought this was humorous. Christina had some cereal she gave to me the first few days to help me adjust. For those that can't read it says "Quad'z: The Bombastic Taste Experience". In other funny news, one of the first things I learned to say in Portuguese was "eu tenho Jesu Cristo" (ignore the spelling. I can speak it, not read it) which means "I have Jesus Christ". The reason I learned this was my refusal to shave when I arrived resulted in me getting several salaam alekums from muslims who must have though I was some sort of imaam from the west. I have subsquently reversed my position on shaving.

Here I am digging the septic tank out. Its not uncommon to have about 4 or five people watching you work. It only means that they're standing there taking shifts.

Here is a giant tree outside a lumber yard. This type of tree isn't the kind that is being used for lumber, but what I find funny is just about where the image cuts off at the top is as far as the branches go out.
If you’ve made it this far, please pray for the rampant spreading of sickness going around right now. About fifteen of the 50+ kids here have gotten a cold in the last week and I just joined those numbers today. And think it might be hard to introduce some good ol’ fashioned chicken noodle soup and 7-Up around here.

Learning To Go Without

It's sometimes the little things I've been taking for granted. Like getting access to snacks, or a fresh piece of fruit, or not having to spend the first 30 minutes of my morning boiling all the water I'll need for the day. But sometimes, its the larger things that I notices. Like EVERY night this week when we seem to lose electricity somewhere between 6pm and 8pm for the evening. Its ironic, only because I do notice the electricity because the lights flicker all the time and it's an unregulated 240V system (for the nerds out there). Its also ironic because we live next door to the electrical substation for the city. Mozambique I guess has a fairly developed electricity system because it exports a lot of it to neighboring countries. And with the electricity comes the internet, which we have at the orfonato, but never seems to work on the two days a week I try to use it.

Still, what I am not taking for granted are the ways that God seems to be providing seemingly out of nowhere. Like today, I was very upset over a TV station that came to interview the orphanage. The TV station is owned by the makers of KLIN (pronounced: clean) and they brought their klin truck and music jukebox and product placement banners and klin go-go dancers. It was pretty sleazy, because they came to entertain (for lack of a better word) the kids for a couple hours by dressing as hookers (its was really bad) and dancing for everybody for two hours.

In the midst of being disgusted at the obscene product placement and slutty go-go dancers, I learned that they brought a small donation of soap and $500. We went from having no money at the start of the week, to God making a way despite slutty product placement girls.

Still, be praying for some long-term answers to prayer, namely that God would:
1)Help us with the water. We've been drilling wells for almost two weeks and people are coming out on Monday to test the health of the water and what quantity we'd be able to get.
2) Find a new location for the septic tank. We've spent a week laboring over digging septic tank for the dorm, but we can't place it next to the well. It needs to be about 3meters deep, and at 2meters I hit quartz. Very hard to dig through.
3) Help us with the every increasing problem of money. The truck has not been bringing in as much work as in needed to help buy supplies and construction materials.

Michael Jackson in Mozambique

So, there are some really strange things here with the culture that caught me off guard. It wasn't the food, or the language, or behavior. It was the fact that everybody I run into thinks that I'm a DJ (not TJ) and wants to hear if I know about Michael Jackson.

I tell them "Yes, I know. He's dead." And that's where the fun begins. For whatever reason, people over here believe the strangest rumors about absolutely anything. Everybody I talk to has heard a different story on what happened to Michael Jackson and they're all the funniest things ever. Most of them revolve around the fact that he is not dead. So far, best I can tell (because my Portuguese is still coming along), here are my favorite Michael Jackson rumors:

• He has 365 bedrooms in his house - one for every day of the year.


• There was a trap door in the bottom of his casket and he escaped during the funeral.


• There was a trap door in the bottom of his casket and he's living in an underground cave below the cemetery.


• He got trapped inside the internet (most the internet here is on mobile phones, so everybody has been able to download Michael Jackson music now).


• He escaped to Brazil to get plastic surgery and is now a new music star in Brazil (I forget the name they told me of the new singer they think is really MJ).


• One person I talked to says that her sister saw MJ in Maputo (the capital of Moz.) and he was there on his way to hide out in Tanzania to get plastic surgery.

The funniest part is that people are deadly serious about this, and Christina and I just get to comiserate because we think its the funniest thing ever. For more on the lighter side of life in Mozambique, tune in next week

No pictures yet

...but I'm getting closer. The last week has been CRAZY busy. Construction, music, driving, tutoring. Everything seems all need to happen at the same time. Right now the biggest thing that has been going on is we're gearing up for a huge concert the orphanage is putting on. There are going to be 7 bands/choirs there and I've been going crazy trying to prepare and get ready to run the production. And I'm qualified to do it solely on the basis that I've run a soundboard before, so this will be intersting.

I'm now determined to update at least twice a week (mainly at the scolding of my parents, who think I disappear into the jungle when I don't communicate with them more than every other week). So be checking back for more information.

Briefly, its been cool the last few days because I've been getting a lot of stories. I've been able to hear a lot of testimonies from the kids. Common threads of being in terrible or abusive families that would use them as labor or kick them out on the street to live/fend for themselves, and Jesus just MIRACULOUSLY putting things in place for them to wind up at the orphanage here. Very sad but very joyous at the same time.

And lastly, I used some internet magic to call home the other day (not skype, just a phone rerouted through the internet to a land line). So I talked with my parents at great length, and its way too much to post here. So hopefully with more frequent updates I'll be able to get everybody up to speed.

See ya when I see ya,
TJ