Life on the farm

This is Dionisio. He is our resident green thumb. The last year or so he and a handful of other boys have turned into quite the entrepreneurs. Here he is pictured in his “garden”.

He and the other boys, taking small plastic bags, have been growing trees and selling the saplings. The have quite a collection of lemon, orange, papaya, banana, passion fruit, and tangerine trees. They have a little sign out front saying “plants sold here” or something of the sort. But unfortunately as the orphage is on a quiet and lonely street, nobody over comes by so the plants have just been slowly growing on their own here.

Dionisio and the others have diligently been watering and caring for their trees for about a year, and their patience has finally paid off as last week they landed whale of a customer that bought over two hundred of his plants: Victor.

The plants are to put all around our farmland we recently just bought that's about 20 minutes away from where the orphanage it. Dionisio and all the other kids spent days out there last week as we transplanted all the pants into the ground all throughout the land.

And Dionisio is learning a lot about entrepreneurship. Namely, negotiating before you perform a service or provide goods (of which he did both). Now, instead of him receiving the market price for his plants, Victor has given himself a volume discount,AND the friends-and-family discount, AND opted to not charge him for the water he used nor rent for the space on the orphanage where his garden sits, AND rang up the account on store credit.

The second lesson he is learning is to not forget your investors. You see, as the boys have been doing their project here, the person that has diligently been buying oranges and tangerines and the like and giving all the seeds to them has been me. Now that they've hit pay-dirt, I've come knocking wanting a return on my venture capital that was so earnestly invested in their enterprise.

This is all tongue-in-cheek of course. When we started purchasing the farmland last year (with the goal of becoming a source of income for the orphanage) we had asked the boys to start germinating plants to eventually put them in the ground. I think Victor promised them a couple of bicycles as a reward. And as the farm project has been taking longer than anticipated, they've enjoyed selling some plants on the side.

As the boys have seen his success after this last week when all his stock got bot basically with a standing request to buy anything and everything else to put in our farm, the other boys have been getting in on the gig too. Jordao staked out a section of the garden but is frustrated that the chicken bones he planted haven't sprouted yet and Jose has been religiously watering the salt he planted in his section. One of these days I will sit them down to explain how plants work, but I kind of want to see what else they'll plant first—pens, pencils, soccer balls, spoons, there really is no way to tell without waiting to find out.

Dial W for Whaaaaat?

I have long bemoaned the problems with cell phones here. Everybody uses them because as Mozambique started developing, it was cheaper and more practical than using landlines. Most people have at least one cellphone (with a prepayed account, no contracts) because it is both a status symbol, and they will have one for each of the two carriers. Nowadays, phones have started showing up for sale (that are obviously pirated and from China, but mostly functional) that have space for two SIM cards, allowing people to consolidate their phone into one big, shiny, Noika, Blackbery, Samsun, or countless other knock-offs.

The reason to have a number with each of the two networks is that one is likely to just plain not work. If you really need to you can use the other number to get a hold of somebody. I've talked about how calls drop at an alarming rate (and most never go through to start with) and how text messages can sometimes get delivered hours or days later.

But now I've got a new conundrum. What happens when your phone changes numbers on you?

Such was the predicament last week when I tried to call Daniel, a worker at the orphanage. I knew he was out as his farm and I needed to get him on the phone to ask him a question. I was a little surprised when my call to Daniel, who is single and my roommate, was answered by a girl. The exchange was a little awkward.

TJ: Daniel?

Random Girl: Who?

TJ: Umm, is Daniel there?

Girl: I don't think so. Who is this?

TJ: His roommate. Where is the owner of the telephone?

Girl: Right here. It's me.

TJ: No, the owner. DANIEL! Give the phone to him.

Girl: There is no Daniel here. Try calling again later.

There was considerable confusion on my part. I tried Daniel's other phone number, but the call wouldn't go through. I went to somebody else to confirm that I had the right number for Daniel, who I have called literally hundreds of times. I was using the right number. I called again.

Girl: Yes?

TJ: WHERE IS DANIEL I NEED TO TALK TO HIM NOW!?

Girl: Daniel you say?

TJ: Yes, Daniel. Daniel Daniel.

Girl: Hmm, I think he is a coworker of mine, let me call him and ask where he is.

TJ: No, he's a coworker of mine. Give the phone to him!

Girl: Hmm, I think you need to calm down. Goodbye.

Through the day, several other people started asking me what was wrong with Daniel's phone, because this chick kept answering whenever they called him. Eventually, Daniel called me on an unrelated not and was surprised to hear that I had been trying to reach him. His phone had been in his pocket the whole day. He was even more surprised when I called him and this girl answered once again! We finally figured out that she lives in Maputo (thousands of km away) and is tired of getting phone calls for this Daniel guy and wants to know what is happening.

It turns out that for whatever reason, the cell network (or whatever it is) just all on its own decided to redirect all of Daniel's calls to this random telephone number. The number also happened to be on a different network. A short trip the next day to the cell phone store and it all got straightened out and now his calls work just fine.

Now, I had known that calls occasionally get misplaced. I never answer my phone after 5pm from an unidentified number because it always somebody going, “Hey, [Billy, Fred, Susan, any name except mine]. How are you doing? What's up?” It is obviously a call never meant for me. I used to think people just typed a number wrong, but now I realize that there are these misplaced calls.

And yes, as numerous people have since told me, this is the kind of thing that breaks up marriages. Just a simple phone call to your husband, and then some strange unknown lady's voice answers, says that person is not here, and abruptly hangs up. People know that phone calls get "misplaced" so to speak, but all it takes here is for one person once upon a time to have used that excuse and now every Dick, Tom, and Harry is telling there wife that they didn't lend their phone to anybody, it must have been a bad connection.

There is already such a level of mistrust among spouses here at large that even little spark will set off a powder keg. When we have been doing construction and have workers staying late, we will have to accompany them home all the way to their houses, make eye contact with their spouses, and declare that he was working late and was not out somewhere he doesn't belong.

How long is "Miller Time"?

Maybe you are a type-A, pocket protector-wearing, penny-pinching, nervous-Nellie budgeter in your home. You know when you go into work what percentage of your time is paying for taxes, what percent of your time is going towards your mortgage, your food, car payments, vacation fund, and what part sits burning a hole in your pocket.

Or maybe you don't worry about that stuff, que sera sera, and when all the bills have been paid you go celebrate with a shopping spree at Nordstroms, or other times you're looking under the cushions of the couch to find enough spare change for a milkshake.

Regardless of how much or little you make, each of you kind of has an idea how much money you have for entertainment, shopping, eating out and the like.

A recent story in The Economist looked at how long people have to work in order to afford a beer in different countries. In America, a person at minimum wage has to work I think only fifteen minutes to afford a pint of average-priced domestic beer. Mozambique was not listed in that study. However, a quick calculation on my napkin tells me that a Mozambican working at minimum wage (which is not an average Mozambican) needs over two hours in order to afford a beer.

Statistically, in America, you make more than minimum wage and spend even less time affording that beer.

Statistically, in Mozambique, you don't have a job that pays a minimum wage the money you live each day would barely cover the price of just one beer. If you're a resident of Nampula, its about two beers every three days. And that is with absolutely no other purchases.

And yes, beer and alcohol is a real destroyer of families here. Its a vice that requires more money than what is left over a the end of the month. It is more likely to be the first thing that comes out of a paycheck rather than the last. And I have yet to meet the person that, when imbibing, will partake of only one beer. Drinking here is an activity with the motive to forget and escape everything and the beer (or wine, or moonshine) does not stop flowing until the drinker in passed out.

Christmas Time Is Here....Ergh.

Christmas tends to bring out the crazy in people. Not just in America, but in Mozambique as well.

For one, Christmas here is more a bank holiday than a month-long build up to an event involving food, presents, family, lights, and movie marathons on basic cable. Here it's a day of no work and usually some nice food. It's not full of movies and songs and TV specials that haven't changed since the time baby-boomers were kids. This is due more to not only utter lack of disposable income but also that culturally, Christmas is a Christian holiday in a culture that doesn't have a thousand years of history around the holiday. Heck, Christmas isn't even celebrated on the same day depending if you're in Egypt or Greece or Russia or elsewhere.

But really, at their root, there are many things about celebrating New Years and Christmas in America that just don't make sense. They are arbitrary days chosen to celebrate something (the turning of the calendar and the birth of baby Jesus insane shopping deals). Both come with their equally strange traditions that have nothing to do with actually celebrating what it is they are actually celebrating. You ever actually used a nutcracker that looks like that? Put stockings over the fireplace? Put a tree inside your house for goodness sake?! Have you seen Bethlehem? There is an absurd lack of 6 foot tall douglas firs there. It's the only month during the year when eggnog is acceptable and if you don't stay up till midnight on December 31^st there is something wrong with your “holiday spirit”.

I'm not being a Scrooge here. I genuinely love Christmas, being together with family, all the food associated with it, the weather, the lights, the sounds. As much as people decry commercialism or the hijacking of Christmas, at least in my family we get together to celebrate God's love for us and give gifts in recognition of the gift that Jesus is to us. I love New Years too, but the reason is because it is the second most important sports day of the year. I associate Keith Jackson with being the sound of the holidays more than Bing Crosby. Because really, I can't think of a single New Years tradition in my family other than waking up early, never leaving the sofa the whole day, and watching “the grandaddy of them all”.

Mozambique has lots of traditions for the holiday season too. Much of it is co-opted because the Christmas holiday itself is co-opted from a European tradition. Here, the week before Christmas is accompanied by getting all the food ready for your Christmas meal. Maybe something special like spaghetti, a goat, beef, cheese, (sometimes all together, there's no real basis for deciding what food can go together). There is no modern Christmas music. Actually, I don't think there is any awareness that there is such a thing as music specific to Christmas because I've heard Michael Bolton sing “Santa Claus is coming to town” on a radio top-ten-most-played countdown in May.

It also involves paying almost twice as much for those things as you normally would because that's how the laws of supply and demand work. Yes, there are laws regulating price gauging, but they are toothless and really only apply to staple commodities like rice and beer. Seriously. People go to jail for raising price of a case of beer by even a cent but can get away with doubling the price of cooking oil.

Nevertheless, price hikes are expected and most people just take it as the cost of celebrating. Everything is shut down for the day (and with Christmas on a Tuesday many things will be shut down most of the week) and people have the day to relax and be with their families and celebrate that fact. New Years is much like this also, except it full of some absolute crazy superstitions.

America has the saying/sentiment that Christmas is the time of peace on earth and good will toward men. Whether or not that is true on a large scale, at least on an anecdotal level, people find the good in their brother, in their neighbor, drop a dime in the Salvation Army. You might also get dejected when you think about that dude that totally took your parking spot after you waited five minutes for it.

Here in Mozambique, sayings/sentiments abound even when there is no great evidence for it. As we approach the end of the year people are constantly worried about getting sick or dying because, as everybody here knows, this time of year is full of accidents and sickness and death. On some level, a lot of it is kind of like the athlete that tries to pump himself up before the game. People like to say how difficult this time of year is so that when they get to January First they can breath a deep sigh of relief and celebrate that the bad has passed them over and they made it safe and sound into a new year.

Statistically, more people don't die or get sick in December than any other month. In fact, looking at just getting sick, the most cases of malaria happen between February and April. Its just one of the things that for some reason stuck, like eggnog. You can drink eggnog any time of year, but you can only buy it at Christmas. Do you know hard it is to buy eggnog in a grocery store for your Fourth of July party? Impossible.

So as we eagerly await the New Year when sickness and death will magically pass away, I wish you tidings of comfort and joy (and a great deal on your new flat-screen TV). And early and hearty Merry Christmas to all.

To Catch A Predator

One of the things that is hard, as I discovered while visiting people in America, is to make people realize how absolutely commonplace some things are. There is such a contrast between what is accepted as “normal”. One example is that, in Mozambique, littering is just what you do. That's because so little of what you consume is waste that usually what gets thrown out is a banana peel or maybe a pop can or something along those lines. When our trash heap gets full we just take it out of town and dump it wherever we want. Leaves, branches, wrappers, boxes, papers, everything. There is no such thing as separating your recycling. You are probably shaking you head saying that's ridiculous. You probably live in the Northwest where you get chastised for putting a plastic bottle in with the metal cans.

The point I'm trying to make is you see recycling as responsible and normative. Kids in Nampula see it as redundant; trash is trash. Just as you consider getting a coffee from Starbucks every morning as necessary and normal while I see it as addictive and prodigal.

I tell people different things are in Nampula and they just can't quite fathom it. I say how short life expectancy is (45) and it's shocking to them. I say how short school days are (3 or 4 hrs) and its a surprise. I say how widespread corruption is and it's alarming. I say how long people walk just to get water and it's saddening. But to me it's just the way things are and after a while I just accept it as fact. That's not to say I feel like anything is any less tragic or sad, it is just sometimes is a little lost on me because it's “normal” to life in Nampula.

But those are mostly just cold statistics. What is harder to accept sometimes is how different behaviors can be. I want to stress the idea that something can be normal without being right. If someone gets murdered in your community, it can be a real shock. If you live somewhere like Detroit, where folks are murdered daily, it can be numbing.

This year there was an incident at the high school here. Five students (NONE OF OURS, I WANT TO BE SUPER CLEAR ON THAT) came forward to say that a teacher at the school had given them HIV. A sixth girl came forward to say that she had slept with the teacher but had stopped recently and had not tested positive for the disease. Classes were canceled for the day and all the teachers were summoned for a meeting.

What was your first reaction at hearing this. If you just read through it without thinking, read it again. I'll wait for you....

Five girls got HIV after sleeping with their teacher! My first reaction was disgust at how these girls were probably pressured by the teacher in exchange for getting a passing grade. Teachers will sometime select certain people and pressure them and give them undeservedly bad results in order to exact favors from them later on. These favors are usually in the form of money or sex.

Then my second reaction was that there was no way that five and almost six girls got pressured. At least one of them would have to have stepped forward before now. How overt was this teacher, and why had nobody said anything until now. At least another teacher would be jealous or a boyfriend of these girls would have found out. I was mad and deeply saddened.

You really need to understand that is is not even 10% as shocking as it would be where you are living (assuming you don't live in sub-Saharan Africa). This probably isn't even 2% as shocking as you think it is. Troubling and deeply sad, definitely. But not shocking. The reason is, sadly to say, it happens quite a bit. These kinds of events flood the rumor mill, but hardly makes the news as a scandal.

Then as each piece of the puzzle came in, my opinion and emotions became more and more confusing and layered.

We learned that the teacher at the center of this had been kicked out of a high school across town for almost the exact same thing. I even found a few news stories online from the year before. That time he had been accused of giving 4 girls HIV in exchange for passing grades at the end of the year. Instead of being fired, he was just transferred quietly. To our school. Lucky us. This man started to seem like a predator who goes about quaerens quem devoret.

Then we learned that during the morning when all of this unfolded, there was an assembly held and the principal had all the girls come stand in front and told anybody else that had information to come forward and say it in front of the whole school. At this point any idea of privacy for these girls was gone and everybody knew their names and faces. I was horrified that these girls would be the ones vilified during the situation and made examples of in front of the class. The object was to subtly shame these girls and discourage anybody else from speaking out.

Then we started hearing from some of our kids that attend the high school. Two boys in particular that have class with all these girls and their teacher (they are all in grade 12). They say, in the case of at least four of these girls, that is probably the only way they were going to pass that year as they were mostly illiterate. But not because they were being treated unfairly or had to succumb to these means in order to pass, but basically because that was the way these girls had obtained passing grades since forever. It seems the girls went about quaerens per quem ad devoret.

You see, while some people try to get extra help from the teacher by asking if they can stay after class or come in during lunch to discuss a reading or solve some problem, these girls get extra help by on day one of the school year asking questions like “What's your phone number? What neighborhood do you live in? What hours are your wife not home?” The boys said—and while this is not exactly the expression they used it conveys the same meaning—that these girls were putting it on pretty heavily.

So here is the summary of what we have so far. Five girls get HIV from sleeping with a teacher. Abhorrent in every way. Girls appeared to be trading sex for passing grades. Not surprising in the least. The principal calls out the girls and has them show their faces to everybody. Shocking. The girls turn out to be the ones initiating with the teacher. Disgraceful.

I talked soon after with some of our girls to get their take on it. One that knows them basically had the attitude that they got what was coming to them and was glad because as girls get away with this it puts that much more pressure on the rest of the girls to do the same and almost becomes expected behavior. Others that didn't them were not surprised and say that almost from day one you can spot the girls that, as they say here, are running after teachers for some "special help".

The fallout from all of this? The story didn't even make the news. If it did, thousands of people would have been complaining wanting to know why the TV cameras and journalists never came to their school, because that stuff happens all over the place. The girls, they quietly stay put and are finishing the rest of the year. And have HIV for the rest of their lives.

The teacher, instead of being transferred, just went from teaching during the day to teaching night school. If anything, it might have been just the upgrade he wanted. He stays at the same school, and gets to teach for half the hours. People generally agree that the teacher came out a winner in this situation because they say he went from having only six girls to having at least twenty. Night school is full people that generally just pay a bribe to pass a class and is notorious for sexual promiscuity in every way shape and form. Teachers with other teachers, students with other students, and teachers with students. People will fail a grade five times in a row and keep enrolling in adult education classes not because they want to pass, but because it is the equivalent of going to a bar for a single person. If you want a hookup, and are looking for others that want the same, you go to night school.

As you wrestle with this story, keep in mind two things I said in the beginning. Being normal or a common occurrence does not make it right. What happened is wrong and sinful and detestable in every way. The second thing is to not impose your thinking or attitudes on the characters in this story. As deplorable as this situation was, the tendency would be to say this teacher is a predator and even if the girls voluntarily got involved with him, they were only giving into a sexist archetype and were victims of societal pressures. I argue that the situation is more complex than that, and I know many of you will disagree with me. But in saying that, I believe it does not make what happened any less tragic. Just know that what is normal here may not be so wherever you are reading this.