Daddy's going to buy you...

Retail: it is the one aspect of the economy that is working here.  Beverly Hills Rodeo Drive it is not (I used to work there by the way), but there is never a shortage of people selling things here in Quelimane.  Herewith are a few examples:

Most downtown sidewalks are half used by vendors--they simply lay their wares out.  It is amazing how many high and stiletto heels are worn here--although  Debbie hardly ever wears her seven-inchers here because of the ruts, ridges and holes in the road.

This looks like a messy pile of charcoal, but it is actually seven distinct messy little piles of charcoal, each for sale in front of someone's mud hut.  So much of retail is done exactly like this--small amounts of otherwise bulk items broken down and sold to people who can only afford to buy charcoal sufficient for one day.

This is our central market where piles of fruit are for sale by hundreds of individual vendors, but where more mobile sellers also roam.

Flip flops are a big seller here--that is the shoe of choice.

There is a story here.  One of the big problems with the average Mozambican who is trying to make a few Meticais by opening a stall and selling things, is that they consume their inventory (see the woman eating her oranges).  So often, people will beg or borrow money to buy inventory and start to sell, then use all of the proceeds from their sales to fund their life--forgetting that they needed to save some of those proceeds to restock their inventory.  So at the end of the month, their shop or stand closes and they have nothing to show for the capital they started out with. 

Dried fish make the central market particularly pungent.

There are probably stores that sell new clothes, but I don't recall having seen one in Quelimane.  Most clothes are bought and sold like this or from large piles direct from donated bundles.

Debbie emerges here from our grocery store.  We can buy Kellogs Corn Flakes here and low-fat milk and western canned goods and most everything we really need to make our kitchen work.  But it is expensive--slightly more so than shopping in Fairbanks, Alaska--which is a pretty expensive place to buy food.

Side-of-the-highway vendors selling sweet potatoes from their own little garden acreages--called machambas.

This is not a retail picture but rather  last night's going away dinner (waffles, hash-browns, eggs and fresh squeezed orange juice) for Elders Barlow and Delgado (and welcome dinner for Elders Tanner and Steel). 

A good thing about our well-behaved missionaries is that when we feed them, they usually help clean up.  Sister Osborn suggests that I could learn a thing or two from these young men.

?

Fun P-Day

Since this was the last preparation (p-day) before two Elders were being transferred it was time to return to the beach.  We had brought a football back from the States, so this was our first chance to play flag football.  The Elders make flag strips out of capulanas, found four sticks for boundary markers and the game began.  Since I pretty much only like watching BYU football on television, I took a walk down the beach and found a few treasure, human and otherwise.  We had chicken sandwiches made with Elder Barlow's special secret sauce , tangerines which are in season and perhaps some not very good brownies that I had made.  It was a relaxing and lovely few hours.  I think I received a high compliment today, at least a compliment in the drop dead honest way only a Mozambiquan can give.  One lady who has been pretty ill was up doing chores and looking good this afternoon.  She said "yes" she felt better and wanted to get strong and big like Sister Osborn.  What more could a woman aspire to than that I ask you?  Here are a few treasures from the day:


We staked out our turf by flying this Mozambique flag on the beach.

o

This little guy has elephantiasis, and was selling these little necklaces.
Naturally I had to buy one and share some sandwiches with him as well.



What can I say, aren't these Elders awesome!

I don't know what these are.  I am hoping my grand kids will figure it out for me.  But they
were cool as were the curly shells that I have never seen before



Women multi-task here in ways I ever imagined before I arrived..

The coach is calling in a play.

Coconuts anyone?  These have been husked and are ready to drink with one whack of the knife.

Lady Madonna (Beatles)

These are our fairly new investigators, Veronica and Gaspar.  Their new twin sons, who we adore and are ready to adopt or steal are Santo and Santinho.  Those names can be translated as Saint and Little Saint.  (Yes, the naming scheme is even considered strange by Mozambicans--it reminds me a bit of George Forman). When we teach them, they always sit on the reed mat pictured here and give us the two chairs (which are the only furniture in their mud house). Gaspar is bright and reads and thinks well--Veronica is bright, but like many women, can't read at all)  Both are people of growing faith and are enjoying and are well engaged in our teaching.
Veronica explained to us that she wasn't producing sufficient milk for the kids so she was feeding them condensed milk mixed with flour.  They were sick and losing weight.  In later discussion we learned that she wasn't producing much milk because she was not eating, and not eating simply for lack of food and lacking food for lacking work and money.  The kids looked pathetic and both had diarrhea.  Had they not been so cute, perhaps we would have felt differently, but we bought a couple month supply of baby formula (assisted by the Wollenziens) and milk and rice and beans for mom.  We came back today and were very pleased with the change, babies were healthier and pigging out and Veronica was looking much better as well. 

I often consider the futility of feeding a couple of kids here when hundreds of thousands of people are starving, but it really seemed like they would be lost without some intervention--perhaps not a world-scale tragedy, but a local one--and we live locally and have come to love the locals. We won't bring food to the family again, but likely are in it for the long haul for formula for the kids. In the end, Gaspar has to find work.  He goes out every day doing day labor when he can find it.  We would suggest school for him (and help him with it) but his dependants wouldnt survive a break in the meager bit that he manages to earn.

The neighborhood in which this family lives, called " Floresta" has become the area of principal activity for Debbie and me.  It is a little distant from the city center, so us being vehicular makes it more practical for us than for the young missionaries.  We just started with one family there, and have never really made a huge effort to find others, but one person talks to their friends and we are friendly and say hello to people as we walk along and suddenly we have quite a few people around here that are fully engaged in atending church and listening to our message--though the walk each way to church is probably somewhere around 3 kilometers.  We had earlier thought that we would cap our own teaching pool at 4 families at a time, as our assignment includes other responsibilities--but we have climbed above that now and we are finding it hard to stick with that resolution.  We do love teaching and it is hard to say no to people who really want to learn.

Today was a baptism day in Quelimane with three relatively young men joining our ranks.  Patel, Iris, and Rema.  Shown are also Elders Peterson, Maynez, Delgado and McCullough.  Elder Peterson, who will go home in June organized and conducted the service and did a very thoughtful and wonderful job of it.

100%

All the young missionaries sang at the baptism which, if you are related to them, you will want to see at  http://youtu.be/sTAjWUQycxc

100%I have somehow lost my glasses here and can't locate the extra pair that I could swear that I had brought as a backup.  I didn't realize how blind I had become.  Luckily we have a pair of reading magnifiers that will help me survive until our children come and visit at the end of June.

I had a delightful skype conversation with a friend this morning who in due course, mentioned an employment opportunity for me upon our return to civilization.  How strange it felt to turn my thinking in that direction.  I will likely start worrying about that in earnest in a few months, but for now I can be somewhat blissfully oblivious to the workaday world.

Won't you marry me Bill? (5th Dimension)



After months of effort, Quelimane finally had its first ever marriage in the church on Thursday. The happy couple was Lurdes and Amizade. Their ceremony and celebration were simple and cheap (both issues were important to them), but they got married specifically so that they would be able to join the church. This was a very important milestone in the establishment and growth of the LDS church here. Someone had to be the first and prove that it could be done. We fought the bureaucracy until the final day--finally succeeding in getting the necessary document allowing me to perform a legal marriage. He had invited family from afar to participate but refused to hold up the ceremony--and they arrived an hour late. He asked that I put on my suit for the occasion. Debbie played Pachabel Canon and a few other favorites. The bride wore a skirt that Debbie had made and a top that we had shipped from the states to deal effectively with natures gifts to Lurdes. The couple was quite excited-and a bit proud to be the first.

These are very good people. We have gotten close to them as they have learned the gospel and as we have learned together the twisty path of Mozambican marriage documentation. It was not an easy thing for them. I love Lurdes hair. Many months ago we bought a carved ebony wood statue of an African woman with hair exactly the same. Lurdes is wearing old tennis shoes--the only shoes she possesses other than flip flops.

If only we had basketball hoops, this would look like any lds wedding reception anywhere. We bought a cake (it will rapidly become an established tradition here that the casal Osborn will provide the cake--two other pending couples have asked us about it)

After the wedding, The couple invited guests over to their home for lunch--which you can see cooking in their "back yard". Charcoal or wood is the heat source for 95% of the people.

Albinos in Africa

 I wanted to write about a great man named Noldo Antonio OJembe.  We met him the very first Sunday we were in Mozambique.  We had gone to church in the branch where he is the Elder's Quroum president (men's priesthood group).  He stood out as did his brothers, but we never thought much about him.  But this week he has been with us as a translator for our humanitarian missionaries and I have gotten to know him quite well.  As you can tell from the pictures below, Noldo is albino.  We have seen many, many cases of albinism throughout Africa.  He is a great success story, so I will share some of the details of his life.  He has two sisters and three brothers who are living.  Another brother is dead.  Of these siblings, all but one are also albinos.  Neither of his parents have albinism nor do they find it in their family tree.  When he was around twenty years old, he and his friends met the missionaries on the street.  As they learned about the commandments like the law of chastity and the word of wisdom, his friends lost interest, but he persevered.
     He joined the church and served a mission here in Mozambique.  I asked him about prejudice in his life.  He said there was always name calling in his youth.  But as he accepted the gospel, he became a person who is not easily offended.  He left school after grade ten because of eye problems.  Most albinos have eye issues, they have continuous rapid eye movements and have trouble seeing distances.  The sun is very dangerous to them, so into the mission he had to start wearing dark glasses and a hat to protect himself from the sun.  He has felt job discrimination as well.  He speaks English and Portuguese, but has been turned down for some translating jobs for which he was well trained, because of his skin.  He has such amazing self confidence and a calm sweet presence about him. People know albinism is a condition, not a communicable disease, but are still afraid and hurtful.
     His father died in 1995, leaving his mother to raise her children alone.  She never abandoned them as others might.  She always taught them about education and thinking for the future.  That is rare in Mozambique.  His father was murdered, he says, poisoned by people who wanted his government job.  His mother has set an amazing example for him.  She has supported the family through her fish selling business.
     He is planning to get married in another year to a girl named Mannasa.  She is a convert to the church from a Muslim family.  Because he is albino, not because of his church membership, they want nothing to do with him and are fighting the marriage.  He has many supporters among the leaders of the church and is waiting for her to turn 21 next year.  He has purchased some land to start building a house.  He is contracted by the Wollenzeins, our humanitarian couple, for a year to be their translator.  When I asked him what was the one thing that was hardest for him in his life, he said,  "being rejected".  He now has such a strong support system of people who love and care for him, that he will succeed were others might fail.  He is really my hero this week!

 

to the place I belong

We have just returned from a long trip of relatively short duration to the northern nethermost reaches of the country.  We visited, taught, counseled, harangued, blessed and fed--and in general did what we always do.   But I noted a couple of very Mozambican things while observing the people:

1) If there is a purchase tag or label on the exterior of a piece of clothing--it is left on.  My guess is that since 99% of the clothing is second hand, the existence of a purchase tag is a very cool indicator that you got something new.  I noted an otherwise humble brother at church wearing a coat today with the sewn-on label on the sleeve.  Two months ago when I first saw him in it, I thought he had just missed it.  I've noted this even with plastic adhesive labels.  We westerners have our own foolish symbols of pride--this is just one that belongs to the Mozambicans.

2) Mozambican Mormons sing the hymns to their own tune--regardless of what the music says--often approximating the real music, but sometimes not.  We tried to sing with them today but we struggled--the keyboard was down so we just had folks singing from memory.  I now know what the scriptures were referring to when they say "the spirit of the Lord is grieved".  I was too.

In the Nampula branch, I extended a calling to a man whose name I subsequently presented in the Sunday service for a sustaining vote (a custom among us LDS).  I think that I deserve a little applause, for his name, which I almost successfully pronounced was Jose Carmona Bernado Nhanhecua (I was ok until the last one).

We travelled home today (to our home in the province of Zambezia as the sign says) in picture perfect weather, with perfect blue skies and 75 degree temps.  Many Mozambicans are wearing coats and shawls and complaining of the cold.

No explanation needed, I still like the efficiency of burdens on heads which keeps your hands free.  Burdens are wrapped in capulanas to keep them together.



Elder Delgado has always been one of Debbie's favorites.  He is going home to Cabo Verde tomorrow after an outstanding mission. We predict great things for this impressive young man.  The Osborn Literacy Foundation has pledged a little to his education upon his return.

We have had some sensational bananas lately.  We miss mangoes but love the fact that bananas are plentiful, citrus is in season (great tangerines right now) and pineapples are back.

This family we visited today in Nampula at the request of a couple or three people.  Debbie is a white woman and therefore considered to be an expert on all matters gynecological.  We drove into the poorest of neighborhoods and then wound our way through the back streets until we found the home.  Funny thing though, Debbie did happen to have precisely the insight needed here (I will spare you the details).  We had a good visit with this investigator family with eight children (including one with downs syndrome) and blessed this ailing sister.

Debbie felt like she desperately needed to connect to her Muslim roots and purchased this outfit in Nampula.  Far be it from me to question or criticize her sartorial instincts.

"The corn is as high as an elephant's eye" is a line that Rogers and Hammerstein obviously acquired through some Mozambican experience.  I have truly never seen nor imagined corn stalks this tall.  All we lack here in Mozambique is elephants.

island hopping

We had a very interesting. and exhausting trip today to Ilha de Idugo, where we had been once before to speak in a church founded by our friend and investigator Amizade.  This trip we made with our visiting humanitarian missionaries, Elder and Sister Wollenzien (delightful people) to examine the wells of the island.  We had suggested a well-enclosure project to them when we heard that the 13,000 island residents always get sick during the rainy season--and suffered a cholera epidemic just three years ago.  Amizade and his wife Lurdes, who have a long history with the island, came to guide us.  Herewith are more pictures than you really want to see.

The island is a couple of kilometer boat ride across the River Supinho--which is relatively brief when going with the tide in the morning.  Pictured are Sister Wollenzien and Lurdes beside Debbie and one of the oarsmen.

I continue to be mightily impressed by the sea-worthiness of these dugout canoes--and I wonder why the wood never seems to crack.

The purpose of our visit was to look at wells, and that we did.  There are no springs on the island, just these seeping kinds of wells, that are very subject to becoming flooded with rainwater and sewage in the rainy season.  Elder Wollenzien will now take his ideas and pictures and have water/engineer-types consider what if anything the church would like to do as a project to help the locals improve their situation.  We do know that the church will do nothing without significant local enthusiasm, involvement, and effort.

Debbie always seems to attract a crowd.

As we walked for miles on the island today, I spotted this house under construction and I was impressed by both it size and sturdiness.  All of the sticks and timbers are hold together by cords of palm frond.  The walls will next be filled with mud.

We came across this little workshop where people are replacing the worn-out bottoms of dug-out canoes.

Ok, this was a humanitarian project day--then Amizade told me, "by the way, we will be stopping by the church and they want you to speak to them".  There ensued about a 3 hour delay while we watched them dance, while we preached, and then had a delicious lunch of rice with a curried chicken sauce.  Until I looked at the pictures, I didn't realize that I use my hands so much.

If you would like to see a bit of the activity there, and get a taste for the local flavor, you can see the video at    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kKbwPUpugBM



In an effort to appear more comfortable around people than does Mitt Romney, I played grampa for a while--I thought that he looked alot like me.



I gave a few pointers to the drummer on the finer points of his craft.



 

A local family, one of the daughters of which Debbie shared a home-made doll, made and donated by a group of young women in Utah.

I thought that this was a beautiful picture that Debbie took.

On the trip home, one of our oarsmen abandoned us--perhaps recognizing that we would be going against the outgoing tide.  We were pressed into service.  The trip which took about twenty minutes in the front end, took close to a couple of hours on the return.  Yes, the hat is ugly, but it only cost $20 in the Johannesburg airport, and did serve to keep me from getting burnt up today.

The ladies on Zalala beach--we stopped there on the way home to buy some shrimp but learned that the shrimpers only sell their wares fresh in the morning.



Holding forth on some very important principle to Elder Wollenzien and Amizade while our wives walk on the beach.  Only moments later, we were rousted by the police for parking where we shouldn't have.

It was a very interesting day.