It's the name of the game

Julietta, the daughter recent converts, Rui and Bendita, gave birth this week (or, to use Mozambican terminology, deu a luz or "gave the light". Rui told us that they had been tasked with selecting a name for their first grandchild, a healthy little girl. We visited the new parents the day after the birth in their cozy little mud home and of course Debbie brought a gift in a very American gift bag. Mom was up and around and looking good. Today we were told the name of the child: Debra Bokais Dominão. As you can see below, the child looks quite a bit like her namesake. I worry that this makes us responsible for college.

Juliette here is showing why African women usually keep their hair closely cropped, capped, or braided. This is the first time I had ever seen her hair uncovered--quite a sight.

A few other recent photos:

Two young women from Marromeu.

The missionaries from Marromeu working on the bat project.

These two pictures are proof that not every African child is adorable and beautiful--they are very much still God's children, but some are just as plain and homely as can be.

We started a new reading class today. Debbie is leading and I am assisting. We are concerned with the lack of literacy among women in particular, which robs them of so much in life, temporally and spiritually--and keeps them from being able to educate their children as well. I am speaking in all the Northern Mozambican churches on the need to be able to read.--something taught forcefully by BoM prophets (see Mosiah 1:2 among others). Two of our three invited came today, and I actually think that it will be successful. The women are excited and really feel the need to get this taken care of. A little bit of babysitting is included in our professorial duties (I was peed upon somewhere midway through the alphabet today).

Local cranes or something like them in a sugarcane field after harvest.

Location:Quelimane, Mozambique

Morçegos of Marromeu

I have never complained that our mission was boring.  It continues to throw us new experiences and challenges every time we turn around.  Our mission president recently gave us a new assignment--which was to take care of the bats (morçegos) in the Marromeu chapel.  Marromeu is a a city in which the church owns a very large and beautiful chapel--somewhat south of us on the Zambezi River and quite distant from anything other than a sugar factory and square miles of cane fields and jungle.  We visit about every month and I had never noticed a bat problem.  He did.  So we got there and we had the young and agile missionaries open up the eaves and take my camera with them.  Here with is a shot of one small area.

There is nothing that young men like more than a juicy project like this to sink their teeth into.   Adding to the allure was the near inaccessibility of the attic and the risks one would have to take to reach it.  There ensued a flurry of action, some of which was productive and some not so much.  In the end however, many bats chose to leave their previously peaceful environs.  We will call this project now 10% complete.  When we get the rest to leave (no, I am trying desperately not to resort to smoking them out--but we are going to try a little Led Zeppelin) we then have the task of cleaning up the enormous and smelly mess that they have left.  I am open to suggestions from any who have dealt with these beasts before.  It is interesting to note that these are relatively small rat-sized bats, unlike the very large chicken-sized fruit bats we have here in Quelimane.  We were pleased to have no life threatening missionary injuries in this little endeavor, though Elder Berg did need a bit of gauze, rest, and Neosporin before we were done.



The RS choir of Marromeu cannot carry a tune to save them--or when they do, it is one of their own making rather than that envisioned by the hymn's composer--but they do sure look good in their matching capulanas and hats.

We had a little bit of time so we drove out deep into the jungle where we had heard that there was a game reserve.  It was a beautiful drive, and all people that we ran into spoke the dialect of Sena rather than Portuguese--but tin the end, it turned out to be a hunting reserve and we could only enter if we wanted to kill things and pay for them.  We passed.

quagmires and quandaries in Quelimane

Though it seems from this blog that our time here is an unending succession of blissful experiences--that we blithely meander from one unmitigated joy to the next--I must let this particular cat from its bag: sometimes things are less than ideal and we struggle with circumstances in this idyllic place.  Three particular recent challenges come to mind today.

We were startled a couple of nights ago to hear a tremendous rumbling noise from in front of the house, accompanied by shouts of conflict.  Looking outside, it was clear that one of the raised voices was that of our guard and the rumble from someone pounding on the front gate.  As security fear here is of an attack by an armed gang, which would overwhelm an unarmed guard very quickly.  I rushed to the open back door to snap the padlock on the steel gate, but found that a missionary earlier in the day had closed the lock (thank you Elder Brogan), and I would need a key to get it open before I could lock the gate.  By time I found my keys, I ascertained that we were not dealing with a gang, but a single belligerent in conflict with our guard.  I grabbed my weapon of choice (which is to say the only one within easy reach) and headed out.

This is the handle of a hoe, the standard tool of every Mozambican--no one has a shovel.  It is made of hardwood and has a little bit of weight behind it.  I have carved the handle down a bit so it fits and swings well.  It is not a Louisville Slugger but a decent local imitation. 

When I reached the front, I was confronted by a very very angry man banging on our front gate with his own stick and yelling at the guard accusing him of a dalliance with his wife.  This guy was short, but built like a tank.  I entered the conflict and interjected myself between the two--my club playing a prominent role in my positioning.  The guy at first appeared drunk but I concluded after a time that it was just fury.  I, ever reasonable, explained carefully that it just wasn't so, as he became more threatening and vocal, and so did I.  He clearly wanted to remove the head of our guard who he claimed welcomed his wife each night at the chapel--which I knew could not possibly be the case.  After some time and some harsh words and toe to toe and club to club confrontation, we got rid of him and I went back in the house.  It was the next day, that our daytime guard came to me and told me that the irate husband was absolutely correct.  The accusations (which greatly enhanced my Portuguese vocabulary)  were accurate.  The next day, I went to the house of the offended husband and sincerely apologized--and started looking for a new guard.

 Our next challenge involved our investigators Macedo and Ines (Ines is pictured here with her daughter).  They are the poorest people I have ever known and often have no food.  They have never missed attending church in the several months that we have taught them, 

 We, or rather our educational foundation, offered to get them some training and education in hopes of providing a step up and out of their abject poverty.  Macedo began his courses, but Ines' was to begin a little later.  When schedules kept getting put off, they finally confessed to us that they had used her tuition money to pay for food and their rent, lying to us for a couple of months to conceal their duplicity.  I am really irritated about this--taking it as such a personal affront.  But then in rare moments of clarity, we can see now what an impossible position we had placed them in.  What would I have done in their place?  I do remember that there exists a heirarchy of needs, and food and shelter rank pretty high in the heirarchy.  We have many times been warned that money and Mozambicans do not mix well (but of course, we always know better).  We are trying to figure out what to do here and trying hard to not let this be a personal issue that will get in the way of why we are here.

Debbie, Veronica and Santo

The third is a challenge with an easier solution.  We have spoken before here of an interesting phenomenon in our little church in Quelimane.  Each Sunday we have between five and fifteen deaf teenage boys that attend.  They can understand nothing but they like what they feel here and continue to attend--always respectful and helpful (they put away chairs and pass out hymnbooks).  We have no missionaries in the country that speak sign language so we have been at a loss as to what we might do to address their needs.  Well, Veronica (pictured above) cannot read or write, but we discovered this week that she has managed to learn sign language.  She has no resources nor education, but picked signing up to talk to a neighbor girl.  I see a solution in the making here.  We really like Veronica, she has joie de vivre which is a rarity among Mozambicans.

Noite Familiar

We had a very fun evening tonight with Rui and Bendita and family.  We demonstrated how to hold a family home evening.  FHE, as it is called in the states, is a night set apart once a week for families to be together in an organized setting.  It usually includes a lesson, game or activity, prayer and most importantly, a treat.  We were designated as the parents of the family for teaching purposes tonight.  Rui and Bendita had made certain even their older children (one who is married) were there.  They also invited a neighbor who has sat in on many lessons.  As we began teaching "I am a child of God", I noticed more little kids filing in.  By the time we started our game of matching the pictures of president's of the church, there were about 8 neighbor kids standing very quietly at the back of the room.  We have often had many of them listening in on lessons as well.  I knew they would come as they saw me exit the car with a cake pan in hand.  The matching game was so funny.  I am sure that all these older' white men in suit and ties with glasses or beards all looked the same to them.  So they were very delighted when they actually got a match.  Elder Osborn did a little lesson on prayer and used the enduring object lesson of a phone made with tins cans and a string.  Our was made with two tomato paste cans and fishing line. (thanks Ben and Andrea)  After the closing prayer I passed out my first ever chocolate cake made in Mozambique.  I had found this great recipe on-line and it was very moist.  I cut several pieces for the neighbors kids who were instructed to go outside and share.  Our maid had watched me make the cake with great interest today and so I had to save a piece for her.  She really loves watching me bake, but doesn't have on oven at home.  This family really wants to take hold of everything the gospel as to offer.  You might note that on one wall is a picture of the temple in South Africa which I brought them last week.  We told them to have it up there as a goal, and it was on the wall tonight.  Great fun!!
     On another note, this was rodent week at our house.  I was having a keyboard lesson in the church and we had to stop as we heard rats running in the ceiling and rolling a can.  I had the guard buy two traps at the market and he caught two rats in the next few days.  On Monday as we were pulling out of the driveway, I saw a very large rat run into the backyard.  Yes, I was totally grossed out.  The next day the guard called me over and lifted it up for me to view, dead in the trap.  Then there was this little mouse that was in my bedroom last night.  Thanks to Liz, we have some small mouse traps, and he met his demise with peanut butter.  Both the guard and the maid were fascinated by how tiny it was, I am sure they wondered why I wanted it dead.  I thought it nice of the rodents to be on vacation when Zach and Liz were here.


This is a great game as it doesn't require reading, so everyone could play.

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Julietta listening to Elder Osborn on the homemade phone.



A bird's eye view of the adults with their second helping of cake.

Midwinter report

We had President and Sister Kretly back with us today in Quelimane. We had a great visit with them and got to know them a little bit finally. We made good use of them and had them speak in church then also teach a combined youth and adult class, then have an inspirational/motivational session with our small group of members (only 12 of the 85 in attendance today). They then had lunch with us (chicken burritos) and spent the rest of the afternoon teaching and training the missionary force of Quelimane (of which we are a part). They are very talented and inspired folks and our fears for incompatibility were easily put to rest. We have of course been interested to know if our new President had a new or different vision for our service in the second half of our mission--basically, if what we have been doing be what we would continue to do.  I didn't get the feeling of dramatic imminent tectonic shifts in store for us.  I must admit, as one who learned to speak Portuguese in Sao Paulo, Brazil, listening to them speak Portuguese with their Sao Paulo accents is like music to my ears--truly a delight.  They are so very comprehensible compared to the typical Mozambican.

These are the actual members of the church in Quelimane, with President and Sister Kretly--minus just a couple or three who were travelling.

We saw a couple of interesting things in our ramblings the past couple of days. The first was a group of girls gathered about doing some kind of game/dance/competition. School was out for the week and here is what it looked like:

There was a graduation from a local college this weekend. As any who have read this blog for a while know, bike taxis are used for everything here.

I'm sure with a little effort, this guy could have fit four more children on his bike.

And we never weary of the twins, who we sort of think of as our local grandchildren (and they really do look alot like Debbie).

The PBF

When our son Zach was here, he and Liz visited the home of Gaspar and Veronica and their twin boys Santo and Santinho.

Zach was moved by their circumstances and the plight of a man who cannot provide enough for his family to eat.  Before he left he made arrangements to leave a little African legacy,  Zach left a little cash as the funding source for what we are calling the Quelimane Perpetual Bicycle Fund.  Gaspar has now entered into a contract to receive a new bicycle and begin using it as a taxi,  He will repay 25% of his earnings to the fund which will then provide funding for another bicycle.  A bike taxi in the city of Quelimane can earn about 150 meticais per day which is more than sufficient to pay for food and lodging for a family (though it is really hard work).  After repaying the PBF, he can then use the bike to find better and more appropriate long term employment.  Also, with the bike, he can bring his family to church rather than having to walk the 3 kilometers each way.  It seemed like a good idea and Gaspar, shown below with his new bike, was extremely pleased with the opportunity to find a way up and out.  Let's see how this noble idea actually works in practice now--reality will likely fall somewhere short of optimal is my guess, but we have hopes.

On Tuesday night, our new mission president, President Kretly and his wife arrived in Quelimane, making a brief stop on the way to Nampula in the far north.  They arrived in country two weeks ago and have been on the road ever since, driving to each city where missionaries reside in Mozambique, getting to know the missionaries, and local members.  An exhausting exercise to do while you are still jet lagged--particulary on the unbeleivably inhospitable roads of Mozambique.  Shown below is  our dinner together.  They will return on Sunday and spend a little more time getting to know Quelimane before they wind their way back down to Maputo.  The Kretlys hail from Sao Paulo, Brazil, and thus can both then communicate very well here.  They appear to be both reasonable and impressive folks and we will do our best to not alienate them too quickly.

Ai Carimbo!!

Here are a couple of semi-interesting tidbits about life in Moçambique.

When we first came to Quelimane, we purchased a self-inking stamp (called a "carimbo" in Portuguese) to put the church's name in the hymn books so they wouldn't disappear on us (failed effort by the way, but that can be the topic of another post). Here is what the stamp looks like:



Well, before too long, we started dealing a little with the government--renewing visas and performing marriages. We found that our signature on these documents was not accepted by the government. It lacked authenticity and our organization legitimacy--because the documents that we submitted we're not stamped. The church has no official stamp of course, so I simply started using my little hymn book stamp above. Sure enough, we became official, legitimate, and authentic, simply by the application of a stamp that any person on the street could purchase. Go figure. We have learned here to focus on doing what works, and this seems to work fine despite the illogic of it.

We have some grass or lawn in our front yard (or quintal) and back yard. It looks like what in California we called Bermuda grass, thick stuff. It grows and we have no lawn mower here so I wondered just what would be the lawn-care solution. I enclose the following short video by way of demonstration:

I look at this and say that there are far more efficient ways than using a three inch blade to cut grass--but labor efficiency is not an important virtue here and this is they way it is done in Moçambique.

It has been a while since i have posted pictures of adorable African children so perhaps I will drop a few in today.

Location:Quelimane, Moçambique

Dust to Dust

We were invited this morning to participate with Edma (our young, recently baptized friend) in the anniversary commemoration of her father's passing. We gathered with family and friends at her home, then joined the procession on foot to the cemetery. An interesting experience. Herewith are some pics and videos.

Location:Quelimane, Moçambique

A few sights along the road to Maputo

I took some photos of things we don't see everyday up in Quelimane.  We drove over 1700 kilometers to Maputo each way and then into South Africa.  But for now, share in our Mozambican road trip.


Liz gets car sick, so she often closed her eyes during the pot hole sections.
I thought the double decker pillow treatment and her laundry drying on the
back of the front seat was amusing!



Piri Piri is the famous sauce in this neck of the woods.  It is made from tiny chili peppers.  This area
in the south had stand after stand of homemade bottled stuff, so we bought a bottle for
Liz's husband Caleb, who loves his sauces.  It is really hot!!!



These odd looking fruits were for sale along a section of the road.  They are from the
baobab tree.  In Tanzania we saw them sweetened and colored and chopped and
made into bags of candy. 



Let's just say that the art market in Maputo is so much fun.  It
was a little bit of heaven on earth for a grandma like me and the
other couple missionary sisters.



The beaches in Maxixie Vilanculous, Inhassoro and others are very
beautiful and attract a lot of tourists.  We could only take a
brief walk and want to to come back for more.



Yep, we passed over this famous landmark going both ways.  We were trying to
remember our elementary  school geography for the specifics.  (The tropic of Capricorn is the last spot at which the sun can be directly overhead--which occurs on our summer solstice of December 21.  It is also the southern boundry of what we refer to as the "tropics", matched in the northern hemisphere by the tropic of cancer.  It lies at a latitude of about 23 degrees 26 minutes and strangely enough, is not fixed in its position, but moves around a bit).  Toby, who is wearing a very tropical tie in this picture, added this little parenthetical comment in the interest of general gographical enlightenment.



We have seen this animal skinned and cut up for sale, but never whole
like this one.  It is a dik dik, the smallest of the deer family.  His tongue is
sticking out, but he is very dead.  We passed on dinner, but had to
pay for the picture.



The ox carts we saw all through the south are not common in Quelimane.
We see these carts being pushed and pulled by humans, but
not by oxen, cows and donkeys.



Tangerine season is in full swing throughout the country.  However,
down south they are 1 or 2 meticail a piece.  We pay 50 metacais
for 6.   So we loaded up from road side vendors each way.

Hump Day

Today, July 10th, marks the halfway point of our Mozambican mission experience. It has been a richer and more joyful experience than I had anticipated, but also more challenging (my mother, we're she alive, would tell me that those two factors are closely correlatd). Honestly, it seems like we have been here for years already, but the days and weeks pass quickly and we are very rarely lacking interesting things to do. We remain healthy, still love each other (though living and communicating together 24/7 is among the unexpected interesting challenges). We are delighted to be here and doing what we are doing. We put our children on a plane this early morning in Maputo (way at the bottom of Mozambique) and begin the long road back to our home in Quelimane. Debbie has mentioned that it is always tough going back home after seeing the homes and houses of others (yes, ours is a bit of a dump and does not compare particularly favorably with the homes of other missionary couples here (but then, it is so much better than we feared before coming that we figure we should still be nothing but grateful).

All Creatures Great and Small