use it up, make it do, wear it out

We really have not been in Mozambique very long--though in many ways it seems like we have been here forever and this is simply "our life" now.  There are worse things (though on some hard days, those do not immediately come to mind).
 
We have changed (at least our attitudes) in a few ways already--one is the way we use things.  We are hesitant to throw things away here--we do not throw paper away--if it is a full sheet, the maid will use it to wash windows (poorly I might add).  If there is an open spot on it, we save it to write on.  I save nails and screws (parafusos, which is a cool name).   Today I cut some nylon rope that I brought from home (a great idea by the way, wish I had brought more)--in an earlier life, I would have tossed the scraps of 12 and 24 inch pieces--but not any more.  I jealously guard the scraps for future use.  We would never think of throwing away a zip lock plastic bag--we wait until they have at least 20 holes in them--they are very very useful items.  I have not found a way to reuse duct tape however and for that reason regret not bringing a full large roll instead of a little baby one.  If any wonder what to send for christmas, it would be a roll of duct tape (and a colorful cheap tie--I am so completely weary of all of mine and I have only been wearing them for a couple of months) (in the same breath let me state you that it is utterly foolish to try and send anything to Mozambique so save your money--or better yet, buy cherry vanilla ice cream with it).

Along the same lines perhaps: I started a project this evening of attempting to replace a door handle and lock on the door that leads to what we hope will become our living room someday soon.  I went to a hardware store (Lowes it was not) and bought a lock set (made in Spain--I will speak another time about the complete absence of domestic mozambican industrial production of any kind).  I got home and started on the project--discovering in the process that each and every door in our home is hand made.  Each is a different size.  It appears that door frames are made and then doors are made to fit them.  The new lock was not designed to fit the holes of the last one--so I spent three hours with a hammer and screwdriver-acting-as -chisel, and my leatherman sawblade creating appropriate holes and notches.  In the end it worked and we now have a locking door to our personal area of the house (better to keep the white-shirted riff raff at bay).

We have interesting things happenning with our Zoramite (pseudo LDS) population--which seems to be ever-growing.  If the logistics come together right, we will take the 20 missionaries--here for zone conference on Friday--out to the "jungle" to teach a group of 200 of them that afternoon--this will be a seated-under-palm trees experience.  I am skeptical about the 200 number given me by their leader, but we will see what happens.  I have met with  all of the leaders of the groups in the general vivinity now.  Each a little different situation--but each fascinating--some impossible to really do anything with--some perhaps not. 

Our mission president will be here this week so I will probably have to wear socks and otherwise look my part a little better.  Debbie will put on a couple of meals for crowds and also is scheduled to help bring together the very first meeting of the church women of Quelimane on saturday.  There is enormous enthusiasm among the women of our group--and bewilderment among some of the men as to why such a thing would ever be considered.  We think that this will be a wonderful thing for a number of reasons. 

Our group is ever so small, but I am enjoying my role as shepherd of this little flock.  The people are regular people with much the same issues, challenges, and virtues with which we are all familiar (well, they do have a few extra ones here like malaria and cholera).  But largely they reason and think the way that we do (well, except for some utterly bizarre exceptions), so they don't seem particularly different--they are normal in my way of thinking--which means that life remains interesting--and in the end, that is good.  We are happy to be here doing what we are doing (which is often difficult to define).

vilancolous and beira

This was a big week of traveling for Toby and me, and hopefully I can share here some of the highlights.  On Monday we drove for 7.5 hours to Chimoio.  We stayed at the Banks home.  Their home doubles as the chapel, seminary building, and they host a FHE group every Monday night.  They have a lot of youth in their area.   They want the youth to have a safe place to be in the church buildings away from the trauma most of them face at home.  We attended the Monday night meeting with the youth  They played a game with an empty water bottle and you had to learn everyone's name and say it quickly or you would get hit on the head. Needless to say, the loved hitting each other on the head, but it was a fun evening. I had some culture shock when I went into the big store there, called Shop Rite. It made me wonder how I will ever face COSTCO again.  The shelves were full, the produce fresh, Christmas decorations abounded and there was so much variety. It was great to stock on on things we never see here in Quelimane.
     The couples conference was great.  It was held in the resort city of Vilanoculos, right on the Indian Ocean with real beach and a lovely pool and lovely rooms. We met all of the other couples in the mission and had great and informative training by the President from his recent Mission Presidents Seminar.  There are  6 couples in this mission.  One couple. the Rosses are here for their second time.  They have a lot of institutional knowledge about the laws here and the history of the church.  Another couple had been here for three days; they are the country directors for welfare and humanitarian work. Everyone talked about their areas and we had a lot of fun learning about a lot of specific stuff that we have not been instructed on before. Much of which is unique to Mozambique.  Along with weightier matters, we were challenged to try to make the missionaries eat more vegetables and clean their showers more often in an effort to not die of malnutrition nor bug-borne diseases.  Each night we had a lovely group dinner. In the daytime after meetings we swam and enjoyed some local shopping.  Sister Hall was robbed in the market place and was so mad.  She mentioned doing some things to the locals that would help them never to forget her. Although the bartering is fun, it really smelled horrible.  When I undressed at night (in our fancy thatch-roofed bungalo, all my clothes were just permeated with the stink. Toby and I had great walks on the beach and came home with nice shells.  In the evenings there were some lively games of "Five Crowns". Toby and Pres. Spendlove are two very competitive men, but there were also some sisters that had a bit of a nasty streak as well. It was so nice to visit in English.
  On Thursday, which was Thanksgiving, we drove 7 hours to Beira.  If we thought we had seen potholes before, we had seen nothing yet.  For two hours as you approach the city, you have to swerve to the other side of the road constantly, or alternatively you can go into the chasm in first gear and crawl back out.  But, of course there are tons of semis also on the road, swerving to your side to avoid things and it got pretty dicey along there.  We stayed with the Boninis, the CES couple from Brazil.  Oh, even to me, their Portuguese is easy to understand and they are so much fun. We went out for great Chinese food during a power outage.  On Friday we had our shopping day for the house.  We bought another air conditioning unit to put in the room we want to make into a living room, a safe, a sound system for the chapel, more groceries, a visit to the mercado for some fun things and we saw the two chapels in the area and just had a wonderful day.  Toby bought a beautiful hand-carved ironwood chair--the design of which is uniquely Mozambican.
    On Saturday we left at 6am or the long drive home. We were packed to the gills.  We finally saw some wildlife on the road, two troops of baboons and more swarms of butterflies. You will see from the pictures something new we could buy to eat, but chose not to. We almost fell asleep listening to a book we had downloaded from Deseret Book.  The title will remain nameless. The produce along the road is always much better than in the city. We brought home great mangos from Beira and pineaples from Nicodala just outside of Quelimane. It is the season from liche fruit and they are sold everywhere.  We got home just in time for group singing on Saturday afternoon and time to get ready for Sunday.  It is a challenge to not compare housing, branches and other things with the other Senior couples.  We enjoyed feeling of their strength and were happy to come home to our Elders. We were able to bring packages from home for most of them, including ourselves, so that made for a fun evening.


This small deer called a pelefina, we figured was what in Tanzania we called a dikdik. We went through a ten mile remote area where ten different people were selling them alongside the road (we figured a whole group of them had fallen into a pit or something).



This is collectively all the senior lds missionaries in Mozambique.  We thought that we would have the distinction of being the youngest--but we are more middle of the pack.  There is a 48 year old amongst us.



Let us be charitable and say that our accommodations were several degrees better than Quelimane.  There were no ants.  It was very nice to get away for a couple of days.



This is Debbie being mobbed by children as she engages in the forbidden practice of offering candy.



Debbie and Sister Bonini who charmed us for a couple of days.  The Bonini's are from the Sao Paulo, Brazil area.  We went with them and ate Brazilian and Chinese food--and no Zambezian half chicken dinners.



This is one of the Beira chapels that was quite nice.  It will be a while before Quelimane gets one like this.



I thought that this was a charming picture of  sisterly care and concern.

o

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The Mozambican capulana

The capulana is a ubiquitous and colorful piece of women's outer wear in Mozambique. It is just a two meter piece of light cotton fabric generally.  In some places, they use four at a time, two around the hips, one on the head, and another as a shawl or to carry groceries or a baby (it seems like there is always a baby within).  The baby can be shifted from back to front--depending on its needs of the hour. The pic below features Irma Esperanca, a sister of our small church group here who volunteered to show me just how they afix their children within. 

spoiled

Debbie collects nativity "sets" or representations might be a better word for them.  Some are fabulous works of art and craftsmanship--and some of them less so.  My favorite remains am ever-so-primitive one that I bought in the extreme back woods of Guatemala.  She was less enthralled by it than I.  In January, still back in th US without a thought of a Mozambican mission, she was given a beautifully carved ebony wood african nativity.  Coincidentally, we visited the very craftsman who created it today--living in Beira, Mozambique.  While there, I noticed that he had turned some items that he was making on a lathe and asked to see him work that tool.  The above little video demonstrates a human powered lathe--which to my surprise, really works quite well.  It was impressive to see creative people creating without the bells and whistles like and fancy tools and electricity and much much else that we believe to be necessities.  As an aspiring wood-worker, I was impressed.

On the road again

 We have been travelling the past couple of days-sinding our way down to Vilanoculos for a conference of with the six other "senior" missionary couples in Mozambique.  About a 14 hour drive in total that we spread over a couple of days.  We spotted the above lumber truck and took a picture of it to send to a relative who purchases some African wood for his business, then I noticed the interesting combination of cargo on the truck.

 This Impala warning is as close as we have come to African wildlife.

Some stretches or road are pockmarked with holes like this--so much so that one must just creep along at times. A couple of times, I have been cruising at 70mph and suddenly come into a section of these.  It cant be too good for my little truck.

I just thought that this tree was spectacular--though the picture doesn't quite do it justice.

Publi transportation at its best

These are "weaver's" nests.  We first saw them i in South Africa a year ago--they sort of overwhelm certain trees.  The picture below is of one that had fallen to the ground.

We stopped for a moment to stretch our legs and found ourselves in the midst of a butterfly festival.

This picture is of one of  many of the myriad rivers that we cross. If you look closely you can see a small group of people fishing with nets in the river.

In the jungle, the mighty jungle

Our plan for today was to leave town early and drive out to the little village of Makiavale (pronounced Mock ee uh voll ee) and I really don’t know how it is spelled.  It should not be mistaken for the Prince of a similar name—no relation).  We were to attend the services of what was reported to be a 400-500 member congregation of zoramites or pseudo-lds.  Following the service our plan was to hurry back to town in time for our own service at 10 a.m.  Well, although Makiavale is only a half hour away, we discovered that the community we were to visit was considerably further removed from the road and the world as we know it.  The trip was fascinating in every respect—suffice it to say that we never even got close to making it back to the Quelimane service. 

Francisco was our guide.  We have been teaching him for several weeks now.  He lives in Quelimane but we have noted that he has an amazing amount of knowledge about these various other groups which are scattered around the Zambezia province.  Well, as I questioned him today, we came to find out that he is something of the leader/coordinator of all of them.  Stake president in LDS parlance—Bishop for catholics.  Is progressing well in our teaching and is anxious for the gospel to be preached to these groups.  I don’t know if it was our failure to ask or his modesty that heretofore obscured his role in all of this.  Anyway—he showed us where to turn off the road onto a dirt footpath—we assumed it was a short little jaunt that we could walk—but a half hour later we were still winding our way through the literal jungle—weaving our way through huts (reed and stick construction for the most part instead of mud), banana, and palm trees.

  It was really quite beautiful.  The homes were all clean and surrounding areas well cared for.  I neglected to bring my camera—so I must rely on borrowed megapixels from Elders Gee and Brogan who I pressed into service to accompany me (Debbie is still miffed that she had to stay with the Quelimane group this morning).  I did bring my small movie camera which of course possessed a dead battery when I tried to use it.    The drive was beautiful—though slow (it would not have done to run over a goat).  We were told that they have plenty of baboons in the neighborhood—though we saw none this morning.  We could finally drive no further—then after driving a little further left the truck and walked a quarter mile to the gathering place.

They had a nice little chapel that would hold about a hundred or so and in the end, it was only slightly less that gathered for the service.  I asked where the other hundreds were—and Francisco was perplexed and embarrassed since he had represented that far more would be present.  “Next time” he says.  Well, it was a somewhat Pentecostal experience—in a dialect unknown to us.  As I suspected and planned, but had not been told—WE were the service.  After the singing (with something of a Jewish Cantor up front singing in a clear voice—and then being repeated by the congregation—and then various women going off on various riffs and descants of their own. 

They could generally carry a tune and altogether it was fairly pleasant. 

Then they turned to me and I spoke for maybe fifteen minutes—we had a good translator (well, I think he was good but who knows just what he was saying in Chuabo).  The other Elders followed me—Elder Brogan in particular, seemed to garner a few more AMENs and Hallelujahs than I did. 

We closed and I prayed over them and then prepared to leave.  They all gathered outside—the kids quite afraid to approach, but we circulated and greeted and smiled and were warm (literally and figuratively).  They asked us to wait for a moment and finally some emerged from the trees bearing a basket of freshly dehusked coconuts. 

 We walked back to our truck with a procession of singing women and children which really was very cool.  We were presented with our coconut parting gifts and made our way back.

Somewhere in Time

Rather than referring to the old movie by that title (featuring the lovely, if aging, Jane Seymour, with whom I was wildly infatuated for many years):this post title refers to the so very different concept of time that is possessed by our Mozambican neighbors.  Perhaps they have it in common with the rest of the third world--but if so, I belive Mozambicans carry it a bit farther.  Time means nothing here.  The committment to be somewhere or do something at a certain hour is just something of an advisory notice of general intention--to be fulfilled only if no other events of any kind occur in the meantime.  Case in point: I had found a carpenter (carpinteiro) to build us a couple of tables.  They generally set up shop next to the road where you can see them working and their finished products on display.  This guy was a few miles out of town and we stopped and talked, negotiated and finally struck a deal.  Tables were to be done on Wednesday.  We returned three times, finding him absent on the first two, and finally this morning found him there and intending to start on the tables sometime soon.  I have not yet fully adjusted culturally to this phenomenon, and I ripped  up our oral contact.  I found another carpenter who sseemed to be a little more reliable (and closer to our home as well) and struck a new deal later in the day.  We will see how this one works out.  When we make appointments to meet people, sometimes they appear, and sometimes do not.  We visit people at an agreed upon hour, and generally, if we are on time, we are wayyyyy early.  We will adjust in time.  We do however, start church on time--and many people show up on time for that--but many others arrive toward the end.

The drive out of town to the fired carpenter was not without its benefit however, there is a very small and very very rural market closeby to his shop--that sells the best and sweetest bananas (And I bought some corn cob as well).

The bananas above, are over ripe by american standards--Two months ago, I would have never considered purchasing a banana as far gone as these appear to be.  Here, these bananas inside are not over-ripe at all, (despite their haggard appearance) but are firm and sweet  and delicious inside.  I would draw a parallel here: though I may look a bit haggard and past my prime...

 The picture on the right above is of rural life just outside Quelimane, if you expand the photo you will see a man tilling his field with a hoe--a pretty common sight.  The photo on the left was taken today on the streets of Quelimane and is from our niece and nephew's movie, Napolean Dynamite.  I am very concerned that that Jared and Jerusha Hess, who live on the edge of starvation, may not have received their royalties from this one. 

This picture is of Quelimane trash pickup.  Custom has people dump their garbage on the street in (perhaps) designated general areas.  Then once a week or so, a bunch of guys with shovels come by with a big truck and gather most of it up.  In truth, you could have far worse systems than this--for instance, having no trash pickup at all.

The above are just details of life and living--interesting perhaps but not terribly important.  Our work is slowly unfolding before us.  We are trying to help individuals grow and get better.  We are trying to help strengthen and grow this tiny little gospel seed in this very remote and challenged part of the world.  We feel pretty comfortable going around now and meeting with people and trying to help and make things happen.  We love our local young missionaries who likely look after us more than we do them.  We are trying to expand the church organization a bit here to meet their needs a little better.  We have called a sister to head an organization of the women, assisted by Debbie, and another, an organization to teach the children, assisted by Debbie.  Both, sort of prepariing the way for a fuller gospel program in time.  We are starting some more classes for members and investigators in the evening--and are joining with the young missionaries in a broader initiative to teach a one of the local groups of fake lds (who we have decided to refer to as Zoramites rather than fake lds--if you aren't lds, the reference will escape you, sorry).

I was sent an picture tonight of the snow covered view from my old office in Fairbanks where the temperature now hovers at about -40 I was told.  Yes, it is miserably hot and humid here--but I am ok missing -40.  Best to you all.

Back in the saddle again

Quelimane has many paved roads--none of which are without enormous craters in them (undoubtedly a road pictorial will appear on this blog at some time).  But a curious thing about Quelimane: I have never been in a city of this size that has not a single traditional taxi.  It does however have many thousands of non-traditional bike taxis.  They are a standard 3 speed bike frame (I hear that they are generally devoid of brakes) with what appears to be a regualr bike rack on the back over the rear wheel--and that rack has a little padding affixed to it.  People sit on the narrow padded rack and put their feet on slightedly extended rear wheel hub/pegs.  The taxi drivers drive around the city offering their services (pedaling them if you will)--and many people, lds missionaries included, use them several times a day.  They are quite inexpensive, costing 5 meticais (or less than 20 cents) to go a couple of miles.  Herewith are some pictures of the phenomenon.

 As shown above it is quite common to see women carrying babies on their back while straddling the taxis and not unusual to see them nursing babies or carrying enormous burdens while riding.  Some will straddle, and some will ride side-saddle.

 I have tried to persuade Debbie to adopt the colorful "capalana" as a skirt, but thus far she is balking--even when offered the chance for a matching or coordinated head scarf.

Actually, far more men than women ride bike taxis, but women were the focus of these pictures Debbie took today.

The past few days we have been plagued by power outages--coinciding unfortunately with a period of intense heat (which we are beginning to see, may not be at all unusual).  When our AC goes out, our house becomes an oven--though we can open enough windows to sometimes get the air moving a little.  Last night, we visited a wonderful investigating family--during the black out.  They live in a small, not mud, but concrete home lacking any visible windows.  The home had been absorbing heat (And retaining it quite nicely) throughout the long day.  We taught and visited with them for a little over an hour.  It was almost comical how sweltering it was in there--sweat just poured off of us.    The meeting truly was wonderful and inspiring and productive but also truly the hottest hour that I have ever spent anywhere at any time.  On the other hand, we hear that it was -35 in Fairbanks last night, and that does not sound particularly appealing either.

At this same home last night, there was a long-leafed plant growing next to the home.  I was told to break off a leaf and rub it and smell it--and asked what I smelled.  The strangest thing: it smelled EXACTLY .like Fruit Loops.  They say that it makes a wonderful tea, good for congestion and I have been promised some the next time we come by.  We discovered a delicious new type of banana today.  It looked different so we were skeptical of purchasing them--but we were quite pleasantly surprised and will keep our eyes open for them in the future. 

Another young misisonary in Quelimane fell ill with Malaria yesterday--this time it was I who heard him complaining about his symptoms and did the diagnosis.  We have a good drug that aids recovery if it is taken immediately--but does little if the diagnosis is late.  This one might have been a bit late.  Since I hear that some missionary mothers read this periodically, If your name isn't  Brogan,  don't worry.  Actually, Elder Brogan takes his anti-malarial meds religeously--I don't know why he has come down with it for the second time.

...makes Jack a dull boy

                                                     This was dinner tonight.

 Luckily I was there to help, I don't know how they would have done this without me.

The six young missionaries who share Quelimane with us--good men all:  Elders Humphries, Derickson, Ostler, Miller, Brogan and Gee.

Dante's lower levels

We have been blessed with our first long power outage today--it started about 6 a.m. and ended at about 5 pm.  Debbie would claim that “Hell” is among the words that a missionary should not use freely, but today has certainly been hotter than it.  This morning at church we had a record crowd of about 56 (we probably could fit 75 if we packed tightly), temperatures somewhere in triple digits farenheit, and no electric fans to move the air around.   Our chapel is a sort of lean-to structure behind our house—built up against the neighbor’s wall with a slanting tin roof (that heats up quite nicely) and screened windows on the three other sides.  Those screens however, though they keep the bugs mostly out, also keep the air from moving too much.  I was told afterward that I looked like I was going to keel over in my chair up front today.  I was.  I carried a handkerchief and wiped my face about every three minutes or so, but that really was only a cosmetic action.  We survived though and had a great service. 

Many were here for the first time (including 12 from “fake mormon” congregations).  I had asked one speaker to convey a vision of the church and its organization beyond the tiny little group (where the missionaries do everything) that they know now—including the necessity, as we grow, of every member accepting a calling or job in the church and the whole concept of working in the church and sustaining others who are doing so (no paid clergy for us lds).  I asked one young woman to speak extemporaneously—one that I didn’t know (which I always enjoyed doing when I served as bishop).  She was willing and able and didn’t resent me for the imposition.  We are both slowly getting to know the few members and much longer list of investigators (the term is translated as “questioners” in Mozambican).  Some of the latter are fascinating—they are very active and committed to both the gospel and the church but can’t officially enter because of their unmarried/living together status—which they are trying to remedy as they deal with personal, political, familial and financial issues which all come into play.  We are really enjoying our work with our tiny little group of faithful, and seeking-to-become-so. 

We have discovered that a couple of the “fake mormon” congregations are actually close by—and not way out in the bush as we had thought.  Our approach has been to invite them to come to Quelimane to be taught by the missionaries in small groups—but with this discovery, we are going to them and teaching in some fairly large groups (at least in these nearby groups).  I continue to think that there is “something” here beyond the simple adoption of our name.  Though there is little in common doctrinally, there seems to be a real desire on their part (at least some with whom I have visited) to “get it right”, and a realization that they are missing authority and some critical pieces of the gospel story.  We will see how this unfolds and I reserve the right to be entirely mistaken.

I would say a thing or two about writing on tee-shirts.  Most people wear them—as in the states, there are some very fashionable and fancy tee type tops for women.   It is considered even more fashionable to have English writing on them—which they, not speaking English, really don’t understand.  Today at our service, a beautiful young mother (who always dresses to the nines—(she is clearly way more prosperous than the norm) wore a fancy and color coordinated tee shirt with a nice skirt.  The shirt however, had English writing on it that was ugly and obscene and so totally over-the-top inappropriate for church or anywhere else.  I know this sister and have spent some fair amount of time with her—she is good, faithful and modest and would be aghast, embarrassed, and ashamed if she knew.  Will we tell her?  I think not—and pray simply that it be eaten by moths or rats before it shows up again.

I have been eating ice cold pineapple and mangoes this week for snacks.   What a wonderful treat they have been.  The pineapples are delicious—though they have a slightly different taste to them from the Hawaiian varieties with which we are familiar.  No complaints here.

Our mouse in the house crossed the line yesterday and frightened Debbie one to many times.  I was called to defend my spouse from the offender—and did so with dispatch (which also describes what I did to him).

 This is a picture of a local gang of kids that accumulates outside our gate. The older ones go to Debbie's english class (Wednesdays and Saturdays at 14:00). I inveted the others in to visit with me on the porch where I discovered that generally their favorite foods are bread and butter and sometimes rice and beans). When asked, they confessed that the do indeed like ice cream--but I had the impression that it is just not something that they have had many times in their lives nor consider a reasonble expectation.

 

Debbie in the middle of teaching her english class. The young woman is Dina, with whom we have both spent a fair amount of time. She has charmed both of us and is among the most impressive investigators attending. Most of Debbie's english students stay for our hymn practice afterward. Everybody likes singing we find. here in Mozambique, there doesn't exist the self conciousness about religion nor the antagonism that seems to exist throughout the west. We went to a hotel on Saturday to ask permission to use their pool for baptisms. They said--oh sure, just don't bring a million people and come on saturday mornings when occupancy is low. We were prepared to rent it but the issue of money never came up.

Bath time--I think that you can see Debbie there at the upper right corner of the picture, close to the crocodiles

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So the starting price on this was about $USD 100 in Nampula. It is made of ebony (black wood in Mozambican). $20 was the final price. It weighs about 8 lbs. The background is my pillowcase that makes me feel very african.

This is coracao do bouy (bull heart)--a tropical fruit that I have not yet tasted but we have growing in our little back yard next to the chapel along with some spikey limes

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Nampula--Debbie's view

This week we took our first drive north to Nampula, which is in our zone and about 7.5 hours away.  The zone leaders went with us and enjoyed not having to ride a bus for 11 hours (each way on the bus) and they saidthat  we smelled much better than anyone on the bus and we didn’t bring goats with us.  The drive itself was through the prettiest country we have seen so far.  There was a lot of lush green vegetation, big rock formations and actual mountains.  As usual, we never tire of the huts, the business of selling food and the children running alongside the car.  I have heard that the children think if they rub the arm of a white person they will have luck.  The kids always want to touch your hands or shake your fingers and then sometimes they run behind you and try to touch your arm and then run away laughing hard and screaming.  It is often amusing, but sometimes irritating.  I have noticed that men really want to talk and will stop their bike and try to speak even though my conversation is only a few words.  They are never in a hurry.  The women, on the other hand, smile and look at me as a sort of curiosity and all are willing to have their picture taken.  They love it and I will often take the picture and then show it to them on the screen and they always have a big grin seeing themselves on the camera.      

The district leader, Elder Homer, had gone out of his way to make good use of our time while we were in Nampula.  The zone leaders gave training while we went to the museum in the morning.  In the back of the museum are sort of arts and crafts huts.  We were most interested in the wood carving ones.  We hear the Elders often bring a religious picture to have copied into a carving.  One Elder had an angel Moroni carved that wasn’t very good, but another Elder had Moroni with the gold plates that looked great.  We saw some nice basket type purses for the first time, but they wouldn’t negotiate.  Outside the museum of course, were men hanging around offering to “watch” the car for us.  We usually pay 10mt or about 3 cents.      

 I think walking at night with the Elders for a ¾ mile trek through the dusty paths through huts, shops, big garbage piles and rivers was the most unusual thing I have ever done.  I cannot imagine how they remember the way.  Toby had a head lamp in his backpack, which was a help, but then I really didn’t want to know what I was walking on.  I was SO thankful nothing scurried over my feet.  The pavement, like the roads, is uneven full of broken cement and hard to walk on.  We just kept going deeper and deeper into this set of huts.  Finally we got to the members home and what a sweet experience.  The parents are married (a big plus), have six wonderful kids, and are the strength of the church here.  So, under the stars , with only three chairs, we talked about the branch, heard conversion stories and sang a hymn.  The 16 year old girl bore her testimony to us, we prayed and it was just amazing.  They need to get to the temple and want to, but money is an issue.  Then back through the mazes, the garbage and the stink.  All the while different people would stop and talk with the Elders in a joking way in the local dialect.  We always say "hi” to everyone.  People are friendly and will always take a lesson, but having a change of heart or even understanding the gospel is another matter.    

Each time we have interaction with the members or investigators, we are impressed with them.  Toby said a prayer in one visit, where so close, that next to us people were cooking dinner outside, hanging wash, listening to a blaring radio and visiting in various stages of dress within a few feet of us.  You just ignore the distractions and go on.  The women were the kapulini or traditional clothing in many ways; often as a skirt or covering a dress to work or sometimes just like a robe that isn’t too modest.          

 We met with branch leaders and Relief Society leaders.  Since we have only a two hour block of meetings in Quelimane, I wanted to know about how they ran Relief Society in Nampula.  It is challenging there with so many on the rolls and few who come.  The branch is just starting the home and visiting teaching program.  They are very excited about it.  The have never done anything like an RS mid-week activity.  So, I tried to get a feel for what women would like to do.  They do not traditionally decorate in their homes, so a lot of ideas like  and self conscious about their lives and don’t like to talk about them  much.  Yet, they have a great need to get strength from each other.  I have a lot to think and pray about.  In our little “twig” in Quelimane someone  asked for a women’s meeting and we are going to try and have one in December.  As we talk about the women in missionary correlation meeting, they seem to take a back seat in the discussions and don’t really understand what is being taught.  Not because they aren’t smart, but there is something cultural going on here. 

 I am looking for a translator  who is a woman, who could come help me.  Toby noticed how they were just craving leadership instruction among the men.  So that is something we will deal with next time we go up.  We really need to be there on a Sunday, but that means a three day trip.     The produce was much nicer up north as was the shopping possibilities.  It was hard to believe that we looked out of our hotel room over a swimming pool and a few feet more and it was the traditional tenement housing of an African city.  A couple of funny things from the Elders, we have one Elder who is 6’7” The locals say he is so tall that he can steal the lightbulbs from the lights.  This is really a bit of "projection" on their part, as many WOULD steal lightbulbs if they could.  The Elders of Nampula had cleaned their apartment for our arrival even though I hadn’t said I would inspect it, though I did.  I like how they use the gospel art kit to decorate the room and how much they can stuff into one refrigerator tor.  We did buy a waffle maker, which is going to be fun to use.  As always when I am around the Elders I am just so impressed with them.  The parts of Africa that are difficult for me to adjust to; the dirt, rats, garbage, etc. are nothing to them.  They will go anywhere, do anything to teach and they are all good at it.  I admire them very much.

home from the hill

If my memory is not failing, the post title hails from a famous literary epitaph--but my memory is likely fogged over from the humidity, as are my glasses.
We made it back this evening from our long but brief trip to beautiful Nampula.  It was a great, inspiring, and productive trip to that beautiful little city--about which Debbie will write soon.  I am left to post some pictures of the journey.  As usual, she will speak of substance and the fluff is left to me.

Large Portugese colonial period catholic church in Nampula.

 

Carmen Miranda she is not--but I did think it was nice color coordinating of her outfit with her butfrn.

 We had a spare hour or two in the morning and went to the local cultural museum which was fascinating. It was interesting to see that many of the local historical artifacts and even current "bush" tools mirrored things with which we are acquainted in Alaska native culture. They have fish-traps that could be found a hundred years ago on the yukon river--and canoes and baskets made of a birch-bark relative that look ever so much like Athebaskan work with which I am familiar. And of course, reed and grass baskets are much the same the world over. I guess that when you have a culture that is interested in the most efficient functionality of an object, the engineering among different cultures generally leads to very similar design conclusions. Sorry they wouldnt let us take any pictures in the museum.

Both of these pictures are of vehicularly framed children as we walked through some back roads of the city.

On the road back today, when we saw interesting or desireable items for sale on the roadside we would stop and investigate, barter, and buy. Among our purchases were three pineapples (the first of the season), a kilo of mangoes (similarly the first ripe ones of the season), some delicious bread--but we passed on the ginuea fowl above.

While on a stretch-your-legs stop, Debbie befriended most of the local population.

 Simply scenery

It only looks like I am holding forth and pontificating to the young missionaries (Elders Gee and Brogan) as we take a roadside stop. Though it may well be that in driving 15 hours with us, that they grew mightily weary of our stories (some undoubtedly repeated) and old-fogey music on my ipod.

I note that there has been a significant uptick in readership over the last few days--something in the news must have spurred interest in Mozambican scenery.