Let's not even say anything about the Stupid Bowl. I don't want to talk about it.

I have successfully been a teacher for 3 weeks (well, guess “successfully” is a debatable point, but, heck, I think so!). I was well into my second week of 9^th grade, getting comfortable with the kids (some occasional laughter, often at my expense, witty banter, and lots of foliage), when I got called into the office of the Pedogogical Director (basically, the Mozambican equivalent of an Assistant Principal... eek!). The biology teachers for both 11^th and 12^th grade were both transferred to other schools (to either teach biology or work in administration), and IIIIIIIIII am the only biology teacher remaining at Escola Secundaria Armando Emilio Guebuza with the qualifications (university degree) to teach the upper levels. Thus, as of week 3, I am the new 11^th and 12^th grade biology teacher. Fine by me- at least the material is more interesting: taxonomy (so we get to study all living things, not just plants) and organ systems in 11^th grade and cell biology, plant physiology, and animal physiology in 12^th. Teaching 12^th grade means that now I get to be in charge of controlling the 12^th grade national exams, in which I have heard there is generally rampant cheating. Not on my watch!!

Back to the other teachers being transferred, though. About 5 or 6 of our colleagues received notice that the ministry of education decided to place them elsewhere- a week after school started! Talk about great planning! One teacher is our next door neighbor, an upper level English teacher who was not happy with the switch. Apparently, however, they didn't get much say in the matter. Most of them still live in Catandica and teach night school. Teachers here, in general, work their rear ends off. Some teach classes in the mornings, afternoons, and nights (potentially 7am-11pm). They are given quite a bit of respect here, though. It is impossible to walk through the villa without hearing “Teacher Carolina, Teacher Carolina!” Even some of the crianças (children) who have yet to even start primary school call us “Teacher Carolina” and “Teacher Cecilia.” Lindsay and I both go by Mozambican names in Catandica to make it easier for everybody. Also, Carrie is awfully close to Kelly, the name of the volunteer who was here before us. Although everybody seems to have really liked her, we are not, in fact, the same person, so Carolina it is.

The road we take to go from the school to go into town, which we have unofficially named the Criança Road, is always a trip! It's about 20 minutes long (maybe 3-ish km?), though walking can take considerably longer because there are so many darn cute kids along the road who think we are just about the niftiest things ever. Even after having been here since December, our “new” still hasn't worn off. Some already know our names (and, darnit, I'm trying to learn their names, but there are just soooo many!), and they'll call out “Teacher Carolina,” plus any phrases they have learned in English, regardless of the appropriateness. The others just shout out “Muzungo!” (white person in Xona, the local dialect) or “Azungo!” (white people, plural, when I'm with Lindsay). They like to walk with us and hold our hands and absolutely went NUTS when we brought a camera one day (pictures soon, I promise!).

This week, the governor of the province of Manica was in Catandica- big deal, apparently. He stopped by the school around noon today, but by about 10:30, there were droves of students lined up in the front of the school to welcome them. While I spent that lovely hour and a half unknowingly getting a rosy pink sunburn to celebrate Valentine's Day, the students sang and danced, hooted and hollered. There were several young guys who played the batuke (African drum), while the girls danced. One of my new 12^th grade students is the chefe (boss) of the dance group, and I will be making her aware that her biology grade is contingent upon her ability to transform my disastrously-white-girl dance moves into something a bit funkier. The governor came around noon, along with a swarm of others from Catandica and beyond, gave a quick speech, and was gone before my pink turned to red. (I should know by now that time is relative here- always wear sunscreen.)

Peace Corps, the lovely dears, finally brought some packages to Chimoio that they didn't give me during training, so I get to go into the city for the day this weekend (thus, I can use the internet and put this up). Getting so many packages is going to be like Christmas Part 2: The Second Noel. Hopefully my sunburn will be gone by then, or Rudolph may have some competition in the sleigh-guiding category. Don't think I'll be back in Chimoio again until our regional meeting in mid-March. I've heard rumors of a pretty nice hotel. With a pool! Woohoo! Until then, take care! For now, I'm off to bed, and judging by the fact that my last 3 meals have been rather heavy on the beans, I'm afraid it might not be such a Silent Night (sorry, I know that's crude, but I couldn't resist another out-of-season Christmas song joke).

Newsflash: I found bacon in Chimoio!! That's worthy of its own post. Amazing. It goes very nicely with my waffle iron (thanks again, Dad and Karen!). I really can start my days off right with a lovely not-so-little breakfast!

a little recap

Since I waited so long to start putting anything online, I’ll play catch-up now: here’s the down-and-dirty for the past four or so months…
August: Peace Corps finally placed me! Biology education in Mozambique, leaving in September. Eeek! The next several weeks were pretty much a scramble to get everything together, see family, and relax a bit before leaving the US of A.

September: Head to Mozambique via Philadelphia, New York City, Dakar, and Johannesburg to start training.

September-December: We stayed in Maputo for the first few days to receive lots of shots, get an introduction to Peace Corps Mozambique, and learn a little bare bones Portuguese. After that, it was off to Namaacha, our home for the next 10 weeks. I lived with a host family who spoke very little English (definitely a good incentive to learn Portuguese). I had a host mom, a 19-year-old host brother, and 12 and 16-year-old host sisters. The day that we arrived, it was really rainy and muddy, and I immediately learned the word matope, which loosely translates into “muddy mess that gets everything dirty and makes you want to stay inside, even if you really need to use the bathroom and your bathroom is outside the house.” The first days were… interesting, to say the least. Lots of non-verbal communication and laughter from all sides (honestly, I figured it was better to laugh WITH them instead of just being laughed AT)
During the week, we had language lessons for several hours a day and technical sessions occasionally (how to be a PC volunteer, how to teach, how to respond to certain situations, etc). Towards the end of training, we had 2 weeks of model school, in which I taught 4 classes a week of 10th grade biology… in Portuguese! Should be interesting when I get thrown into the real thing!

December 7-ish: Swearing in! I officially became a Peace Corps volunteer, and what was really wacky was that the former director of the entire Peace Corps was at our swearing-in ceremony (who I randomly met one morning on the street in Namaacha). The next day, we set off for our sites. I flew into a city called Chimoio, which is the capitol of Manica province (in the central part of Mozambique in the mountains). From there, I traveled to my new home, a town called Catandica. There, I live with a girl named Lindsay from South Dakota, and we will teach in the Escola Secundaria Armando Emilio Guebuza, which was built in 2005 by the World Bank. Our house is amazing and is so much nicer than I ever could have expected: running hot and cold water, ceiling fans, doorbells, electricity, an electric/ gas oven, a garden, etc. The school is also fantastic and has so many resources (computer and science labs!) in addition to what seems to be a great and very helpful group of directors. We live about 3 km from town, so it’s a nice (and frequently rainy and/or hot) walk to go to the market.
Christmas and New Years: The volunteers from the central provinces (Manica, Sofala, and Tete) all gathered in Gorongoza, which is home to one of Mozambique’s national parks, for Christmas. We ate many a good meal, had a white elephant gift exchange on Christmas day, and basically enjoyed all the benefits of 17 people living under 1 roof without running water. For New Years, about 10 of us went to Chimoio. There, we continued the good cooking for a New Years Eve spectacular feast. We spent New Years Day at the house of a new friend named Alfredo, and it didn't at all feel like we were in Mozambique: lounging in the pool, watching MTV, and enjoying almost all the comforts we would find back home.

January: Back to Catandica to arrange ourselves before school starts. I have learned, 4 days prior to the start of school, that I will be teaching biology in 9ª classe (9th grade), which is basically plants plants plants. Though the subject material is in no way close to my favorite, I think 9th grade will be good to teach. Secondary school starts with 8th grade, so I won't have the “freshmen.” Also, there are national exams in both 10th and 12th grades, and those professors deal with the stresses of under-prepared students and trying to cram review of 8th, 9th, and 10th grades into a few weeks. Since I will be teaching for the first time ever- in Portuguese, no less- I think 9th grade will be perfect! It's going to be a very photosynthetic year for the alunos de 9ª classe. I will plant seeds of knowledge and watch the students blossom (clearly, I can't make it through this whole thing without a little bad plant humor).
January 29: The “real world” in Mozambique starts (AKA the first day of school).

February 3-4: SUPERBOWL SUNDAY (though in the case of Mozambique, the majority of the game will be seen on Monday, super early in the morning). February 3 is also a Mozambican holiday, Heroes' Day, which just so happens to be observed on the 4th. Thus, I can go to Chimoio to watch my Patriots dominate the Giants... maybe all Boston sports needed in order to succeed was my absence from the region/ country/ continent. In a couple years, if anybody particularly wants to see the Bruins win the Stanley Cup, I would gladly accept a trip to Fiji (all-expenses paid, of course).