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).