The Danger of the Single Story

This is one of the ideas I've been thinking about for the last few years, but never quite successfully explained it in a few words. Here Nigerian writer Chimamanda Adichie completely nails it. This is the reason why I've enjoyed so much reading Al Jazeera news along with the BBC, New York Times, AllAfrica and LeMonde. There are so many wonderful stories and perspectives that can enrich our perspective and our learning.

Try picking a single story, and then reading about it from each perspective. Watch how each regards ideas and other cultures. How do Qatari journalists describe China? What do African journalists have to say about FIFA and the World Cup? The recent story about the Iranian nuclear scientist Shahram Amiri--was he kidnapped and released or did he defect and then change his mind? There are some vastly different perspectives on what happened. There are many stories to be told.

This isn't exactly what Adichie is getting at, but rather, an extension. I believe her comments are more specifically targeted to widening our perspective on other cultures and peoples, but I think the undertones of what she discusses is something that connects a whole host of culture-war creating phenomena.

A major, well-deserved shout-out to my roommate Sean who sent me this video. He is in Africa, by the way, in Cairo, studying Arabic. Thanks buddy!

What do you guys think? What have been some examples you've seen of perspectives that have been completely marginalized or undervalued? Is this, perhaps, one of the sources of many of our problems of international politics and the struggle for peace?

Tacos Al Pastor at Taco Surf, Puerto Nuevo, Baja

My pal David kisses a sea cucumber.

Middle Cave Lake (Timpanogos Caves)

Timpanogos Caves

"Mother to Son"--Langston Hughes (1922)

Well, son, I'll tell you:
Life for me ain't been no crystal stair.
It's had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor --
Bare.
But all the time
I'se been a-climbin' on,
And reachin' landin's,
And turnin' corners,
And sometimes goin' in the dark
Where there ain't been no light.
So boy, don't you turn back.
Don't you set down on the steps
'Cause you finds it's kinder hard.
Don't you fall now --
For I'se still goin', honey,
I'se still climbin',
And life for me ain't been no crystal stair.

Favorite Passages of Nelson Mandela

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of fate
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years finds
And shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

- Invictus by William Ernest Henley

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.

- The Man in the Arena by Teddy Roosevelt

Korea II

Korea

Sinus free is the way to be!

Hey everyone,

So some of you have called wondering how the surgery went, but unfortunately I haven't been able to take your calls. My mouth is indeed wired shut right now, so I thought I'd put an update on how everything went up here.

First of all, the surgery was a TMJ corrective surgery, in which my upper jaw was moved forward 8mm. According to my doctor, the bottom jaw continued to grow over the past couple years and for some reason the upper jaw didn't keep up. This meant that the teeth weren't lined up at all, that the bottom jaw occasionally popped out of alignment (and that didn't generally feel too good) and that the underbite prevented me from sufficiently chewing my food, which would continue to take its toll on my digestive system.

So yesterday I went in for surgery to move the top jaw forward. They put me under and then made two long incisions along the inside of the lip and basically stretched it all up and open. They then cut the upper jaw completely off of the skull and then reattached it with four metal plates, further forward. This meant there was much more space for the nose and the sinuses, and that the sinuses had to be detached. The doctor found that the sinuses had been severely infected for a long time and that several polyps had formed. He ended up then removing the sinuses in their entirety. Apparently they will grow back.

The good news is that there is much more space in the nasal cavity and I can already tell that breathing through my nose will be a lot better. The skin around the nose and the lips however has lost feeling (as it has all been detached from the face) and some of the feeling may or may not return. It's kind of funny but when i try and pop my ears, my whole face ripples, and the muscles spasm kind of randomly.

Overall, I feel so blessed to be in a position where this surgery can be done, and that everything went smoothly, even with the discovery of the infection.

As far as recovery, my teeth are currently wired shut and my head is in a giant sock that holds my chin in place. My face is about as swollen as a marshmallow and because there are no sinuses any more, I can feel a pretty constant stream of blood dripping down the inside of the face. My mom has been an excellent nurse, and I've been having chicken broth and ensure through a syringe that i then suck through my clenched teeth. Many other people have their jaws wired shut for weeks, but hopefully mine will only be for a few days and then I'll switch to rubber bands. I can't imagine having them wired for weeks - its really pretty painful and inconvenient.

All in all, things have gone just fine, and like I said before. I just feel really blessed for good doctors and pain medication.

Thanks for your thoughts and prayers!

Mike

Adventures with Sheralie and Co.

This Thanksgiving, I've been very grateful for the chance to visit my sister Sheralie and her husband Pete in Manila, Philippines. We've had a marvelous time - catching up, playing with Jeffrey, Laird and Lucy, and getting a chance to see the Philippines.

Here are some pics:

Morning rice fields and water buffalo

The canyon below Pagsanjan Falls

Sheralie, Jeff and I with our awesome guides.

(I'm going to devote a whole post to how incredible they were later.)

Footbridge. Pagsanjan Village.

View from footbridge.

Pagsanjan

World War II American Cemetery and Memorial in Manila

17,202 buried

36,285 missing

The inscription on the south side of the bell tower reads:

TAKE UNTO THYSELF O LORD

THE SOULS OF THE VALIANT

How to drink water from your hands

Are you in need of a satisfying, soothing late night snack!? Look no further! Here is the secret to the tastiest, most refreshing evening drink you've ever tasted:

1. After you are done brushing your teeth and washing your face, take an extra moment to wash your hands so they're nice and clean.

2. Gently cup them together (as if you were holding 4-5 eggs in them) and pay extra attention to that little spot right above where your pinky fingers meet - that is the weak spot, so make sure it is tightly closed.

3. Fill your hands with refreshingly cold water (this might be much more difficult if you live south of the Tropic of Cancer and north of the Tropic of Capricorn). This is easiest and best done when you live close to the mountains, but it can work just about anywhere on the right day.

4. Bring your hands up halfway to your face, and then bring your face to your hands.

5. Rest your chin against the two palms of your hands - don't go vertically into them otherwise you risk getting your face completely soaked. As it is you can expect your nose to get a little wet, but that helps it taste more refreshing.

6. As you drink in the water continue to press your hands together and you'll be amazed and how much water you can fit in your hands.

7. Repeat 2-3 times or until satiated. (Remember not to drink more than three handfuls before bed, or you might just have to wake up at 3 of 4 in the morning!)

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I don't know what it is that is so refreshing and incredible about drinking out of my hands, but I've been addicted to it for a couple of years now. It seems something like almost Ameliesque, but it really is satisfying and somehow tastier than having water in a glass or cup or mug or even a brand-new nalgene bottle.

Give it a try tonight. It will be life-changing.

A Time for Thought

There are moments in life when we just need to stop and think. This week has been one of them for me. Last night I drove up on top of a mountain and thought. And I thought. And I thought. I needed it. It was good. I didn't decide what I needed to decide. No contract was signed. In a way I merely rehashed things I've thought about hundreds of times. But in the thinking there emerged energy- energy that I needed to do what it is I've thought about so many times before. I realized that I've already made many of these decisions, and that I will continue to move forward.

Kenneth Burke, provocative thinker of the 1950s and 60s (see http://www.kbjournal.org/kbs for more information on him) is author of a text I am using in my English class on rhetoric and persuasion. His ideas were catalysts for many of my thoughts. Here are some of them:

"If you internalize... a variety of motives... you get a complex individual of many voices. And though these may be treated, under the heading of Symbolic, as a concerto of principles mutually modifying one another, they may likewise be seen, from the standpoint of Rhetoric, as a parliamentary wrangle in which the individual has put together somewhat as he puts together his fears and hopes, friendships and enmities, health and disease, or those tiny rebirths whereby, in being born to some new condition he may be dying to a past condition, his development being dialectical, a series of terms in perpetual transformation" (A Rhetoric of Motives, 38).

"But a modern "post-Christian" rhetoric must also concern itself with the thought that, under the heading of appeal to audiences, would also be included, any ideas or images privately addressed to the individual self for moralistic or incantatory purposes. For you become your own audience, in some respects a very lax one, in some respects very exacting, when you become involved in psychologically stylistic subterfuges for presenting your own case to yourself in sympathetic terms (and even terms that seem harsh can often be found on close scrutiny to be flattering, as with neurotics who visit suffering upon themselves in the name of high-powered motives which, whatever their discomfiture, feed pride)."

"Only those voices from without are effective which can speak in the language of a voice within."

It wouldn't be feasible to try and explain everything that I've been thinking about, but it is interesting in reading these citations that I was actually thinking about thinking. Suspending myself above myself added additional clarity that I needed.

The overwhelming resolution to the crisis of thought has been a feeling of gratitude. Note that this doesn't stem from a resolution of the crisis itself. Sometimes that shouldn't be expected.

In other news, I've been sick the past couple of days with a mysterious variant of the flu. No fever, just the chills, vomiting and fatigue. Who knows what it was, but it seems its about done. I celebrated this morning by downing eight dollars worth of fruit products at Jamba Juice. Eight dollars on orange juice, a big coldbuster shake and a whopping shot of wheat grass! It was my victory toast to my brain, for doing some good, quality thinking.

Lake Powell

Chapstick is a conspiracy.

I really doubt that I am the first to have noticed this, but I am pretty much completely convinced that chapstick, despite all of its benefits, is a cold, calculated conspiracy.

Think about how many times your lips bother you. Mine don't really bother me all that often. Really the only time they get into trouble is when I spend the whole day in the sun - surfing, wakeboarding, etc. The next day my lips hurt real bad, so I put on lots of chapstick, and all of the sudden, it seems like things are worse. Chapstick must contain some addictive element, like nicotine or crack for your lips. The second you use a little bit, you suddenly have to have the chapstick with you at all times, ready to go in your pocket. Tubes and tubes of chapstick disappear, joining the mismatched socks and ballpoint pens in whatever mysterious corner of the universe to which they frequently flee. You're hooked.

For me it takes a week to get off of chapstick once I'm addicted. It usually happens when I lose all of the chapstick available in the house or apartment, and by that time my lips are just a little bit better. 

If you've read all of this, it means that for some reason you like me, or think my writing is funny or maybe you are really bored. Whatever the case may be, you may be pleased to know that I will now be keeping the blog alive with much more substantive posts than this one. I want to have a place to put my thoughts on life, international development, school and whatever other things I encounter. Previously I have assumed that I only have exceptional experiences or make earth-shattering discoveries while I am abroad, but hopefully this blog will prove the opposite to be true.

Thanks for your friendship and support. 

I'm back!!! Time for some pictures!

Some words in Sena

Here are some new words I've learned this week:

Machessa - These are the community classrooms Care for Life builds in each of the communities they work in. They are made out of wood, bamboo and grass. Instead of supplying materials for their construction, Care for Life asks for one nail, one stick of bamboo and a handful of grass from each family in the community. Care for Life is really different them some of the other Non-Governmental Organizations I have seen in action, and they've left me pretty impressed. In the Machessa many kinds of classes are taught; everything from child and adult literacy, family health and gardening to vocational training and business skills.

Mwacherua - This is how you say hello in the local dialect, Sena. This is a different dialect then the one I was learning in Maputo, so I am back at square one. I have heard this said a lot, and have said it a lot in the communities I have been visiting with Tobias. Tobias is the coordinator for Income Growth Training, and I've spent the week accompanying him, observing the classes that are taught, the consultations with small business owners and interviewing various entrepreneurs and students. Tobias reminds me of Will Smith. He is funny and kind and everybody loves him. He speaks mostly in Sena, especially during his classes. In reality only about 40% of Mozambicans speak Portuguese, although among the younger generation almost all speak it. Since the classes are normally taught to parents and adults many of whom who already have small businesses, the classes are taught in Sena. Sena doesn't have a lot of fancy business words though, so these words are in Portuguese, so it's not completely impossible for me to keep up.

Taverano? - This means "did everyone understand?"... at least that's what I think it means. Tobias says it frequently during his class and everyone responds by nodding their heads. This whole week of observation has been very beneficial because of the things I understood and learned. Care for Life has developed a program called the "Family Preservation Program," that ties in many different components of development and utilizes participatory teaching and work methods like the FAMA methodology I was trained in by Joan Dixon and Lynn Curtis. Luckily enough it was precisely them who also had a hand in the formation of the Family Preservation Program being used here. This means that I was able to understand very well what the teachers and facilitators were trying to do. We spent a lot of time analyzing how their classes function and making observations and plans to improve the classes. Also, I was able to train two more people on how to teach the Community Economics curriculum I developed with Joan, and it looks like they will be incorporating this manual into their curriculum. If any of this sounds interesting, or you are in a condition to assist Care for Life's in their efforts, please visit their website at www.careforlife.org The Mozambican government recently reneged on a promise to continue helping to fund Care for Life, so the need for contributions is extremely important.

Manja - This means "please applaud." Every time someone makes a good comment or does a report in class we give them a round warm of applause. I love how happy everyone is to see each other succeed. The things these communities are working on could seem simple to some, but in reality are critical steps towards building safety, health and prosperity for their families. It takes months to help all of the families understand the necessity of building a permanent latrine and seeing them do it, planting their own vegetable garden or contributing to the community "Bicycle Ambulance". If I had a chance to ask a manja for someone, it would be for the Mozambican staff workers here at Care for Life. There are about a dozen employees that run a program that operates in 8 communities that involves nearly 11,000 people. Tobias especially deserves manja because he has let me be his shadow the whole week. We have driven over 250 km this week on his motorbike. It has been thrilling and beautiful.

I have hardly any pictures of my time here in Beira, and I don't plan on taking any. My experiences this week have been two raw and intimate to be photographed. The chance to walk in as a white man into so many authentic, honest villages and spend only a few moments learning, speaking and understanding really can't be risked or spoiled by pulling out a strange black box that flashed in people's eyes. It would destroy the relationship Tobias and his colleagues have worked so long to forge. I am bringing back from Beira pages and pages of memories in my journal, and volumes of them in my mind. I am bringing back dozens of conversations and the trust of a few new friends.

I have been slowly letting myself detach a little. Monday I will be leaving Beira for Johannesburg to begin my long journey home. I spent about an hour on Wednesday night waiting in a little Indian Restaurant from which I could see the lights of an LDS chapel in the distance and a concrete wall that separated the road from the beach on the other side. I sat just thinking about how much I have been blessed. Not just the blessings of education, parents, plumbing and paved roads, but bigger things like the understanding that Heavenly Father knows and loves each of the people I have met or seen here. There really isn't an adequate way of expressing our gratitude to God. Sometimes we have to squeeze out every bit of gratitude within us to try and show Him how much we are really thankful, and then hope that He knows and understands we realize how much more we would really like to thank Him. He knows though. He always does.

Some pictures

The most spectacular drive in the world.

The most spectacular drive in the world.

Went to bed at one.
Woke up at 3:45.
Carried my duffel bag on my head. The bus was parked in a giant pool of mud,
of course the police had to see our papers right then and there,
in the middle of the mud hole.
I explained the papers and we boarded.
People everywhere.
Shouting.
Selling.
Utter darkness.
We leave on time, unexpectedly. The dawn didn't glimmer till well over an hour into the journey. The colors marched in slowly and then melted into the mist.
The sunrise was invisible. The mist steepened with white and then orange and purple.
The highway severed endless seas of mist with floating trees and distuant huts made boyant.

It thinned and the sun glimmered through, softening enough to stare directly.
Huts of all kinds.
Square with round roofs.
Round with round roofs.
Round with tin roofs.
Mud. Wood. Sticks. Reeds.

Savannah. Jungle. Verdant green. Endless gold.
Still marshes, vast plains, mammoth riverbeds.

Boom, crack.
Black rubber launching through the air.
Red, red earth. Down, digging.
Two cord snaps.
Heat bakes down.
Small cars gawk.
Buses smile thankfully (wasn't us)
Tow rope snaps. Snaps again.
Sweat, knives, the minutes pass.
The hour passes.
ITS OUT! Sighs and cheers!

Imundeiro Boabab Trees
(The ones God planted upside down)
The sunset bounces into oblivion.
Hungry, we ride on.

The Apex of an Adventure

Last night I found myself standing on a street corner in Beira. I was exhausted, but so completely satisfied to be off the bus I couldn't help but smile for at least half an hour as I stood there, waiting. It was a seventeen hour bus ride, and even though the view from the windows was awe-inspiring the entire trek, I felt myself pushing my own limits - emotionally and physically.

We made it though. What a week! Since Swaziland, we spent two days at Skukuza camp in northeastern South Africa, in Kruger National Park. We went on two official Safaris in the big truck and everything, and spent all the other time we were there driving around in our own little Toyota Quantum van.

I hadn't planned on having an incredible safari experience, and to be honest, there have been so many other things to focus on, to stress about, to prepare for and to do that I hadn't given the experience much thought. I hand't anticipated it or dreamed about it, but then all of the sudden I was there, in a little rented van, stuck on the road as a herd of elephants trotted by. Having a lack of expectiations, the safari experience completely surpassed them and surprised me.

It is probably not worth spending too much time talking about it, becuase I hope the pictures will be able to speak for themselves. I might try after this post to put a few of them here on the blog, but we really shouldn't get any hopes up with this internet connection. So I will tell you about a few of them:

There is one of a group of seven lions - a lioness and her six cubs ripping a kudu to shreds. It was the luckiest thing that happened to us. She killed it about fifteen yards from the road, and in the night we could barely fit the beams of our searchlights through the brush to illuminate her and the kill and get some clean shots. Then her brother lion showed up. It seemed like he was skipping because h has a bad paw. It was any amateur photographers dream moment.

I guess I am not talking straight about the luckiness thing, because really the luckiest part was seeing the cheetah. There are less than 200 cheetahs in the whole park (compared to thousands and thousands of elephants, giraffe and lions) and we spoke to many people who've come dozens of times and never seen one.

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So safari was fun, but the driving this week really pushed the limits. We spent 49 hours driving! Our BYU program expereince offically ended on Friday evening when we made it back to Maputo from Nelspruit, South Africa. We spent most of the night cleaning up and repacking in order to come up to Beira. Some of the other students returned home to the US, but Kristin, Dusty, Christina, Kailey and I all came up to Beira. We had to wake up at 3:45 to catch the bus, and when I tried to somehow carry all of my stuff, I had a great mozambican moment. It dawned on me that it would much easier to carry my duffle bag on my head. So I did. It worked great!

As far as the bus ride goes - it was cramped, long, beatiful, and they only stopped four times to let us use the bathroom. Our voyage was interrupted by a two hour flat tire/get completely stuck in the mud on the side of the road in the middle of the jungle moment.

As the sun was setting over yet another savannah, dotted with mighty boabab trees and scattered grass huts I scratched some bumpy letters into my journal. It is kind of raw, but I will share it with you in the next post.

I am now safely at the Care for Life facility in Beira, and had a happy nights sleep and a spectacular shower. We just got back from church - another fantastic african ward, perhaps the most impressive one I've seen. The reverance, the talks, the attitude and the faith are all astounding and admirable.

This week I will be observing the Family Preservation Program that Care for Life is currently executing in eight rural villages, and doing some teacher training if everything works out right! Thanks for your thoughts and prayers. I hope that all are well.

Oh and the last thing, I received a Swazi name from a wonderful woman in ... oh dear I don't remember the name of the city. I do remember the name though, it is Sihle (said see-hu-LEE) and it means; "where he goes, doors open" or "the good one who brings good fortune."

Cheers,

Sihle
This is a picture of One World University in Changalane

Swaziland... who knew?

Hello everyone from the Ezulwini Valley of Swaziland, just outside of the capital city of Mbembe. Last time I wrote on here it was from Maputo, the capital city of Mozambique where we did our month long internship at the teachers training college. From there we headed south to Changalane, a very small and remote village in the southern tip of Mozambique near the border with Swaziland. About twenty minutes outside of the village is a brand-new, beautiful university called One World University. It is an outstanding facility just completed last year by a grant from the Government of Finland and the United States Department of Agriculture.

The students come from all over Mozambique and Angola and receive a three year training on either community development work or a degree suitable to teach and manage a teachers training college, like the one that we have been working at in Maputo. The students are normally in their late twenties and thirties. Kristin and I taught a 30 person group called the "Combatents alongside the poor." We had them exclusively for the entire week, which we spent teaching Economics, community development methodology and English. Imagine what the first scene of the animated Lion King looks like - then take away Pride Rock and the animals, and thats what this place looks like. It is literally the only large structure in the entire valley.

On monday we went into the village for National Kids Day and marched and sang with the children in their parade. In the village there were less than a dozen brick structures - the rest were all huts made of sticks and mud. The people were beautiful and kind. On wednesday afternoon we went on a hike that almost turned into disaster. We hiked up a nearby hill through waist high vegetation (some of the plants here have thorns the size of a four-inch long nail!) and made it to the top just before sunset. Then our guides insisted that the correct way to get back to the university was down the other side of the hill. We consented and ended up making it back to where we came from, but about two hours later and in the dark. It was a good thing we had a full moon to help us pick our way through the bush. I ate some crazy green fruit that was brown on the inside and tasted like Tamarind. The guy I was hiking with was from northern mozambique and had grown up hunting Impala, so I trusted his advice.

We had a great cultural evening at the university as well. We read poetry, sang and danced for them and then with them. They got a kick out of line dancing. The campus itself is spectacular. It was designed by the same architects who built the Sydney Opera House. The hallways are high and enormous - the entire school is open air - and the entire setup is extremelly functional yet impressive. The lady that runs the school is about 65 years old, from Denmark. She is vivacious, visionary and strong. I just about brought the house down when I danced the Brazilian Forro with her at the cultural night. The students were nearly rolling on the ground with laughter.

Friday my students presented the group discussion techniques I have been teaching (the ones I have been learning this past year at BYU with my wonderful professor Joan Dixson). They led fantastic group discussions on all kinds of local problems - everything from polygamy, fecalism, uncontrolled fires, malnutrition, people who ask for the sandals off of your feet, to how to have your entire family help in the fields instead of just some, alcoholism, potable water and in-house sanitation. The discussions are extremelly participant driven and allow an oustide like myself a fascinating view on life the way mozambicans see it. It facitilates a process in which they make observations, share their experiences and opinions and create solutions together. This methodoly is called FAMA, and can be learned more about by researching the organization ProLiteracy Worldwide, or by contacting myself, Joan Dixon or Lynn Curtis.

Saturday we administered exams at the university, said our goodbyes and headed back to Maputo. We spent the afternoon trying to buy more food, I arranged for the printing of the training manual that I had completed during the week at the University (also thanks to the enormous help of Joan Dixon and the many students and teachers at the university who helped me in the writing and editing process). It turned out to be a little more expensive than I had planned, but after all... I am in Africa right? It's not like you can just run down to kinkos. There was a big soccer game on (Mozambique lost to Tunisia) so it was hard enough just to find a place that was open. Saturday evening we took our final exam on Mozambican poetry, which wasn't exactly fun because we have been so busy working that I really haven't had much time to study. Professor Williams went to bed and left the exam on the kitchen table, so by the time I had repacked, studied and eaten it was already midnight. Most of us finished the exam around 2 in the morning, but it actually wasn't too difficult, so I was OK with it.

This morning we left Mozambique and traveled to Nelspruit, South Africa. We had a near catastrophe at the border (and weasled our way out of a $6,000 fine due to a bureaucratic snafu) and made it safely. We then rented vans and drove south into Swaziland. This leads me to the point I started with... I didn't know anything about Swaziland until entering into it as a country, which is rather embarassing. So here is thirty seconds of info on Swaziland:

It was never colonized. Not by the British, Dutch or Portuguese.
It is a kingdom... a legit one. The king chooses a new wife each year.
It is called the Switzerland of Africa - it is mountainous and beautiful. It seems like the vegetation of Ramona, mixed with Africa, on hills that look like Stonewall Peak in eastern San Diego. It is beautiful and just a little bit nippy.

Ok the lady at this internet place wants to go home. I am well and happy. Give a big hooray for Swaziland... they've really got a good thing going!!!!

Sunrises

Dzi Shile familia!

This past week has been full of work and beautiful sunrises. We have been going to bed very early and getting up very early to help work in the Machambas and other fun things. Yesterday morning we watched the sun rise over the enormous cemetery just down the road. Due to Mozambique's turbulent history you could walk down a row of graves and see tombstones written in Chinese, Arabic, German, Portuguese and Changana all next to each other.

Saturday I taught my last economics class to the group of church members who had been participating. They all received certificates and were pretty happy about it. I was very happy with the group and the way the class went, and am excited to start teaching it again next week at One World University. I have been in communication with them and they will be allowing me to teach it every day, as well as in the evening to a local farmers group. One World University is a brand new facility recently opened by a joint project between the government of Mozambique, the Dutch organization ADPP and USAID. It is located in the countryside, about an hour and a half from here, in a town called Changalane. This week I am lecturing on the history of Cuba and then having our classes go through exercises to learn how to lead group discussions about self-sufficiency. We also had our poetry midterm last week which I did well on - it had been wonderful to better understand the culture and history of Mozambique through its literature.

Saturday we also had the opportunity to participate in the baptism of one of the students who has been attending the economic class we are teaching. His name is Jose and was baptised with his wife. We gave him a tie! He had already been investigating before the class, but I am happy we played a small part. Speaking of missionary work we also had the chance to go on splits with the elders here which was a real treat. It was fun teaching lessons, making contacts and even teaching one whole lesson in the dark to a family of 9 over the light of a small kerosene lamp.

This week will be our last week in Maputo, but will end with a bang. This saturday and sunday there will be special conference meetings because Elder Nelson has come here to visit. I will be playing the piano for the priesthood meeting and taking the group photos of Elder Nelson and the missionaries. That's because in our days off we have been hanging out with the senior couple missionaries and helping them with their many projects - everything from filming chicken farms, staking our garden plots for a ward garden, to helping assemble neonatal resuscitation kits. They invited us to help out when Elder Nelson is here.

So we are staying busy down here. I love the wonderful people I am getting to know and the opportunity to understand a rich and complex culture. Best of wishes to the northern hemisphere!

Mike

A Sermon Surprise

So on Tuesday night we went to visit our friend Alice at her home in the suburbs and go to church with her. To make a very long story very short, the church was not only a pleasant mix between protestantism and local tradition, it was held in Changana instead of Portuguese, and when the pastor surprised me by asking me to give the sermon I gave it in Portuguese and then he translated it and pumped it up a notch into Changana. The whole congregation received us extremelly well ( it was just Dusty, Kristen and I) and treated us to a very nice dinner afterwards. The church was made of cinder block with a rough cement floor and about forty in attendance, 35 of which were older women. The pastor wanted us to heal everyone like he did by putting hand over their heads as they shook violently and screamed in their native tongues, which took some quick tactful explanations to get out of, but everything ended well. We sang "Juventude de Irael" (Hope of Israel) for them and then sang an indigenous song that Alice had taught us. There was lots of clapping and dancing and smiles. The dinner afterwards was fried chicken and potatoes... the REAL THING! I mean, this is where fried chicken actually came from and they do a pretty good job making it! Afterwards the pastor, his two wives and families accompianied us to the bus stop and presented us with sugar cane and homemade donuts.

The classes we teach at the EPF have been going well. Last week was economics, this week has been music. Next week will be about Cuba and community development. Wish me luck!

Other fun things:

We saw the sunrise in the Machamba fields again this morning.
We went to a marimba concert last saturday night and danced with everyone in front of the stage.
We held a fireside for the youth on saturday afternoon with poetry readings and then taught them dance - line dancing, salsa, forro and samba.