Happy Birthday To My Mom

Happy birthday mom. As people get older I think birthdays are kind of less important, unless you get to a milestone. And guess what... MILESTONE!!! Party time. I didn't get my invite but I haven't checked the mail in a couple of weeks so maybe it's sitting in the box, but if I wasn't invited that's cool. (True story: I was not invited to my parent's 25th anniversary party. No joke. But it's really just because my brothers planned it all and each assumed the other had invited me. Seriously. There's not a hint of acrimony in our family.)

But back to you, mom. I have no idea why I told you that anniversary bit. You already knew that.

As the years go on I have learned to appreciate all the things you have done for me. I have also become aware of all the things I have done to you. There have been lots of moments where I've thought, “Look at that kid. Surely I would never have been like that when I was growi---OH MY GOSH I used to be exactly like that. What a horrible kid I was.”

Except you've told me many times that I wasn't a horrible kid. In fact you've told many times that I'm your favorite (which would really suck to find out that you said the same thing to my brothers in an effort to exact good behavior out of us). While I know I was not a horrible kid, I've found out I was a kid that liked to eat.

Alas, I know it's not just me but my brothers as well. We all have the same condition: we're huge. All over 6ft. And as a big, strong, handsome boy---in order to turn in to a big, strong, handsomer man---I required food. Lots of food. Most of the time, that food was yours.

That's not to say that it was you that worked hard for our food and we ate it. I mean that it literally was the food you had prepared for yourself or put on your plate. I can still hear your voice ringing out.”Who ate my sandwich? Where did my pop go? I was gonna finish those chips. I hadn't even put milk in my cereal yet. I leave the table for three minutes to go to the bathroom and the casserole 'must've disappeared'?”

I have also realized that there is an age barrier for when this practice become acceptable. When a small kid come up and asks for a bite of my sandwich or a wedge of orange or a sip of my tea or a cookie, I'll usually oblige. But then at some point it usually hits me. I'll think to myself, “Man, I really was looking forward to that cookie, somehow eating half of it just isn't as satisfying. But oh well, they're only 6 or 8 years old, they could use a cookie.”

As the childing asking to share in snacks increases in age, so usually does the quantity they find an acceptable sharing portion. Somebody in your house studying? Break out an orange. Offer a quarter if to them. See the look in their eyes that says, “Thanks, but ummm.... this is so small that if I eat it I'm just gonna be unsatisfied. And then the hunger takes control. Then things are gonna get ugly” Next thing you know most the orange is gone.

There's also the numbers side to it. If you give a kid a snack, four more are going to pop out of the woodwork. If there's a group of kids in my house playing games and I pass around a plate of cookies, the cookies don't even make it halfway around the room before disappearing.

The big revelation is that the food, even when it is mine, has ceased to become mine and has become “ours”. Unless I run inside my house, shut the door and draw the blinds, food is “ours”. It's not technically ours, it's mine. I can say no, but as soon as one kid gets part of a pineapple, there are six more kids that want part of my pineapple.

And so I guess that take-away is happy birthday, mom. And be thankful I'm not there to steal your birthday cake.

In Which We Break Things

Things break in Nampula and they break a frequently. Sometimes spectacularly. Rains come and houses get destroyed, trees get uprooted and roads washed out. The electricity surges and light bulbs pop and electronics start smoking. Cars drive---or I should say people drive the cars---and hit other cars.

Most consumer goods sold here in Mozambique are third rate goods meant for the third world. When a factory is Malaysia spins cotton, the low-grade stuff gets sent here for clothes and fabric. When Vietnam exports rice, the rice full of chaff gets sent to Africa. Do you buy rice? When was the last time you had to sift through your food before cooking it. When I buy Chinese light bulbs, it's customary to plug them in at the store before making the purchase because, by a rough count, about one-in-five don't work right out of the box.

Victor bought plastic lawn chairs for his house last week. Brand new. The very first evening I was sitting right next to him when all of a sudden a chair leg broke and gave way right from under him. He fell hard to the ground. The chair just plain sucked (ed. note: removed comment about Victor's expanding waistline).

Take the street lights here for example. It's pretty well known that a street light should come on at night and go off during the day. Not here. It's very normal to see street lights on for days at a time and then decide to go off during the middle of the night. It's also not uncommon for the street lights to stay off for days at a time. It's just one of the quirks. If there was an easy fix to it (maybe putting all the lights on master switch and have a guy turn them on and off) I'm sure they'd have done it by now.

Another thing is traffic lights. There are only about 15 traffic lights in the whole city. One of them I've never seen work. Others don't quite work all the time. There's one stoplight we pass going in to town. For the longest time it would only change after about 3.5 minutes. I timed it. (Sometimes there is NOTHING to do here.)

Recently, it's been sped up so much that only about three cars can get through before it changes. Oh, and also the yellow stopped working. It goes red the same time the other one turns green and there are no yellows. Motorists have learned to pretty much ignore the stoplight altogether.

Maybe my favorite example of things breaking recently was a radio station last week. The entire station got stuck on a commercial break playing the same 7 straight commercials for THREE WHOLE DAYS. It just looped all seven over and over. There was one day that a whole bunch a kids wanted to hear it because they heard, “it was going change soon and start playing new advertisements.” I compulsively tuned past it about every 15 minutes just to see when it would change.

Sometime Monday evening it finally started playing music. And not just any music. It was playing late 80's British rock. Specifically, it was playing what I later learned was “Shine On” by The House of Love, a British indie rock band from the last. While I not expecting that song (the station usually plays pop/dance music), I was definitely not expecting for the station to play the rest of their self-titled 1989 album.

Since that day, going on almost another week at last check, not only has the station started playing music, it's been dubbing itself. This means that either there is another station playing on the same frequency and the radio picks up both songs, or the single station has figured out how to play two songs at the same time. It's unlistenable.

Happy Mothers Day

This year's mothers day message is equally applicable to fathers day, just so happens that mothers day appears chronologically before fathers day. Here's the revelation I had recently:

For all the headaches, the seizures, the panic attacks, ulcers, nervous breakdowns, fits of rage, and everything else, I want you to know from the bottom of my heart...

...Tyler and Luke started it. It wasn't my fault. Honest.

Happy Mother's day, momma.

In Which Kids Ask If They Can Or Not

As a kid, there were certain things that you asked mom and certain things you asked dad. Not opinions, like, “which tie looks better” (for mom). Not even inquiries, like, “what's for dinner tonight” (for mom). Not even the life-changing advice, like, “How do I put on a jockstrap“ (not for mom). I'm talking about asking for permission.

Granted, many times the questions just got answered, “Ask your father.” But most questions went to mom first. The hope was that, even though it was something out of her jurisdiction, I would get a yes and be cleared of all liability. Sometimes I got lucky with things like, “Hey, can I go catch the midnight showing of The Two Towers?” or “Hey, Tony just got back from the res with tons of illegal fireworks, I'm gonna spend Independence Day with him” or, “Swim team party starts at midnight. I'm sure no hijinks will take place. can I borrow the car?”

Simple matter was, every now and then you got lucky. Even if I got an “ask your father,” most the time dad was pretty agreeable knowing that I was a good kid and had a good head on my shoulders. Still, if we ever double-dipped, there was trouble. For example, ask dad for a pop after dinner. If he says no, go and ask mom. When mom says yes, go and grab that pop. Just be sure dad doesn't see you drink it.

However, when you got found out, you know what was going to happen. Getting denied by dad and then going to mom, or vice-versa, was not an appeals process. It wasn't an objective third-party review. It was wrong, and we always got found out.

What's more, is there were other things that we knew if we talked to mom first and got her to sweeten dad up, we'd be in the clear. For things like needing new shoes, equipment for sports, going to see a movie, a baseball game. The linchpin was not foolproof reasoning, nor was it asking after an especially good meal or after a day of yard work. The trick was getting mom on our side.

I guess here, that makes me mom.

Not all the time, just a lot of the time. I don't like to even think of like I'm the mom and Victor is the dad. I like to think of it more as I'm the high priest and Victor is God. Not because I have to kill a goat every time I talk to him (though it helps), but because most kids here are just plain too nervous to ever asking Victor anything.

Take for example movies. Most Friday nights we'll watch a movie with all the kids. Until about two months ago I didn't have the TV, nor the DVD player, not even the movies. They were in Victor's house. The kids, instead of asking Victor to take the stuff out (or invite us in), ask for me to go ask in their place. I just refuse and have the kids ask him themselves. What did this result in? THREE WEEKS OF NO MOVIES BECAUSE THE KIDS WERE TOO NERVOUS TO ASK FOR ONE!

Other times it will be going to see a parade downtown or going to a soccer game. The question when brought to me isn't even in the form of a question for me to answer, it's for me to go enter in to the holy of holies (Victor's house) and bring the supplications of the people (the kids) before the almighty jehovah (Victor). Usually, things go like this.

Group of kids: Hey TJ. How ya doing?

TJ: Oh, just fine. Thanks for asking.

Kids: We got something to ask you.

TJ: Ask away.

Kids: Can you enter the temple, wash yourself, put incense on the altar and ask god ask Victor if we can have a movie?

TJ: No.

Kids: *blank stares*

Kids: Oh... So there's no movie this week?

TJ: No, I won't ask. He's sitting right there on the porch. Go ask him yourselves.

Kids: *glance at Victor*

Kids: *glance back at me*

Kids: *glance back at Victor*

Kids: *glance back at me*

Kids: That's okay. Bye.

Kids: *return to dormitory*

TJ: *facepalm*

Granted that culturally there tends to be a lot of respect for your elders, bosses, relatives, authorities, many times where the kids have come from that respect is not modeled or returned from older to the younger. Thus what should be respect is actually manifested as fear. The idea that asking me or someone else to advocate on their behalf means that because I would be on more of an “equal footing” with Victor he would respect me and allow the kids to watch a movie.

The sad thing is that every time the kids ask for a movie on the weekend, they get one. They just haven't figured that part out yet.

Newsies

Once again, there has been a lull in exciting adventures, novel insights, health scares (praise Jesus), or people doing incredibly stupid things that I can write about for all of you lovely folk. So, it's time for a Mozambique news update!

==> Mozambique has been barred from flying to Europe. More specifically, the only airline in Mozambique has been barred from making a twice-a-week flight to Portugal. Last year the international board that governs airplanes---and for that matter dirigibles and other lighter-than-air vehicles, it stands to reason---said that the planes were banned from entering European airspace because of safety. This started a he-said, she-said between Europe and Mozambique. Upon asking for valid reasons, the board listed almost 70 safety regulations the airline was not meeting.

A year has passed and the Europeans renewed the ban for another year. Mozambique is outraged for having not been given an explanation. The explanations was basically “no improvement”. It's all very political, but those in the know know that those twice weekly flights have been described by European diplomats as flying drug mules. Ergo, the assumption is that they cracked down on safety because of the flood of drugs coming in on the flights.

==>A new wave of Mozambicans are coming back from having opportunities to study abroad at European and American universities. Unfortunately, when they return with their degrees they are finding it difficult to get the government to recognize their degrees as valid, saying they have no way to know if, for example, the University of Paris, meets Mozambican standards. Dozens of students made the news by protesting against, wait for it, the first lady! And she does NOT have anything to do with ministry of education. The reason, they claimed, that the government needs to certify their degrees is so that they can get government jobs. They claim to suffer from being over-qualified for private sector work, thus needing gov't jobs, and over the years dozens of graduates have had to return to their country of study to look for work.

==> Much of Africa has not suffered from the economic downturn that Europe and America has suffered. Much of that is because countries are starting to take control of natural resources and use those to fuel what economic activity is occurring. Most of the natural resources in Mozambique are either coal mines or agriculture. (I don't consider timber as contributing because, while trees are being exported in huge numbers, all the work is being done by Chinese laborers and incredible amounts are exported unprocessed and illegally).

However, a landmark study brought before the World Bank shows that huge agricultural projects, most all of which are led by foreign investment, do not lead to enhanced wealth, development, or food security like they thought it would. They argue that, while industrialized farming provides more food, so many people sit unable work something else that they suffer immensely. While food production would decrees, they recommend abandoning this practice and return to let local farmers do what they've always been doing to ensure their livelihood. The prospect of industrialized farming was very attractive several years ago when these projects first started. Not only is production still pitifullly low, but only 5% of farmland is irrigated. 85% of people farm with only hand tools, 11% of farmers have animals for labor, and 2% have tractors.