Tras la Tempestad, La Calma

This week has felt like a whirlwind. It's as if a swift, spinning force swept through my life, picked me up and took me for a ride, then spit me out in a foggy and foreign place where I am now, Dorothy-like, trying to get my bearings.

The most obvious change is that Ricardo left yesterday for Brasil. He had to go back to Rio to resolve some personal and family issues and will likely stay through the end of the year (although none of our clients here know that!). It's so strange not to have him here. Everything I know in Mozambique I've discovered with him by my side, every part of my existance here I've created together with him. Our relationship - both business and romantic - started within a matter of hours after I stepped off the plane last year (a story I am well overdue to tell) and I feel more than a bit lost now that Ricardo is gone and I am having to redefine my life here.

Obviously, I feel very lonely. I have a few budding friendships here in Maputo, but nobody I have grown especially close to or who I feel comfortable calling to hang out without the pretext of a lunch or a night at the disco. I feel very alone in this country and, more than anything, very foreign.

Our flat feels increasingly like home, but Maputo certainly doesn't. Not yet, at least. I honestly like it here quite a bit and don't feel a desire to abandon ship anytime soon. I'd actually like to spend at least 2 or 3 more years here, if not more. Who knows then I'd feel more like I belong here? Somehow, though, I suspect time is not the problem. There are certiain things that will never change no matter how jaded or accustomed or familiar I might become with my surroundings.

I will always be a white girl, a muzungu, walking down the street and attracting the attention of begging barefoot children, vendors hawking everything from extension cords to carved wooden boxes, old women with crippled limbs pleading for change to buy bread, teenage boys who stare at my breasts, women that stare at my clothes, shady men who stare at my purse and try to evaluate whether or not it's worth the effort to try and rip me off. I feel guilty all of the time, nervous most of the time, and mildly depressed at some point for varying lengths of time every day. (Note to parents and concerned friends - I do, actually, feel quite safe here. Crime is on very innocent levels compared to places like Rio de Janeiro or Johannesburg.)

All these things happen when I'm with Ricardo, too, but I'm not as affected. We're partners, we identify with each other, we share the same perspective, and for as much as we may be fish out of the water here - we're flopping around and gasping for air together, and that makes all the difference in the world. Now I just feel disoriented.

Yesterday afternoon I walked to an Indian grocery about 4 blocks away from our flat. I bought cat food and juice and some Halls cough drops. It was so strange to carry a purse, to pull out my wallet and count my money, to check if the shop girl gave me the correct change, to bag my purchases and make sure the weight was distributed evenly. These are all things Ricardo does (well, not carry a purse, but he usually keeps my things in his pockets so that I don't have to). I have been so spoiled having a boyfriend that I can depend on.

I like to think of my self as a very independent person, but since coming to Mozambique I've had the luxury of allowing myself to lean on a partner. I'm certainly not incapable of dealing with life on my own here in Maputo, but there is certainly an adjustment period that is hard to go through.

This afternoon I went to another Indian grocery, about the same distance away but in the opposite direction. I bought more cat food (a 1.5 kilo bag of dry Friskies chow - the shop yesterday only had canned food, which I hate feeding the kittens because it gives them noxious farts), some Diet Cokes, and a yogurt. I walked home and ignored a boy who persistenly called after me, "Alô fofinha! Alô fofinha!" I'm not likely to give anybody shouting at me on the street the time of day, but certainly not a guy that is calling me a cute fluffy little thing.

The rest of the day I've occupied myself with work (which there is plenty of), playing with Pria and Parceiro, and making jewelry. Thank God for crafts and kittens. I don't know how I'd get through these next few months otherwise.

I've joined the local Association of Craftspeople here in Maputo and am going to participate in a crafts fair this Friday and Saturday. It is my first time ever selling any of the jewelry I make, and I must say I'm really excited! I'm also a little nervous, struggling with pricing and wondering what I'll do if nobody buys anything, but I'm grateful to have something to distract me and pour my creative energy into in Ricardo's absence.

Ricardo leaving for Brasil was certainly the event this week that had the most impact on me, but several other things went on that contributed to the whirlwind effect. First, we finally finished up one of our contracts with the IFC. We were hired to develop a business plan and carry out a feasibility study for a potential rose production project just outside Maputo. I can't really go into the details, but several things about this experience (and a couple other projects) made me seriously doubt whether or not this is the kind of work I want to be doing. I felt horribly cynical about my role here in Mozambique, wondering if I'm actually part of the problems I so like to criticize regarding the work of foreigners and foreign organizations in Africa. I was thinking about what a Plan B might look like - teach NIA, write novels, sell jewelry, teach English. Around last Wednesday, just about anything was looking more appealing than consulting.

Then, the very next day, Ricardo, B., Monty and I all got called for an interview with a European Union program represented locally by PricewaterhouseCoopers. Basically, the EU is in desperate need of Portuguese-speaking Program Monitors to conduct mid-term and final evaluations of projects being implemented in the lusophone countries of the ACP (Africa, Caribbean and Pacific). The job would entail up to three 20-day assignments per year wehre the Program Monitor would travel to the project site, spend 10 days doing results-based evaluation, then an additional 10 days to write a report. The criteria for the job - as described by the EU - are strong writing skills, experience in program management and evaluation, fluency in Portuguese and English, a willingness to travel, and a "high tolerance for frustration and stress." Sign me up, boys!

The interview went really well, and now we have to submit writing samples. We should hear back from the EU before mid-August. I was really excited about the prospect of being involved in this kind of work, not necessarily that it's what I've always dreamed of doing, but it would give me a new assignment to look forward to every couple of months. One thing I've learned about myself is that I thrive on change, and this seems like the ideal job - one that will allow me to move around, but that will also provide continuity for my resume and permit me to keep working on my current consulting stuff or anything else I might choose. We are all hoping to get called for the position (there are multiple openings, given that monitors are needed for various projects in different countries), and it was just the thing I needed to get over my professional crisis of the day before.

Then, just yesterday, I had another switch in perspective in terms of my work here. I really can't go into details about what happened, but I can say that two separate situations got me going. The first had to do with political pressure winning out over sound business judgement in an institution where I would have hoped for a more balanced decision. It made me realize that I worked my ass off for nothing.

The second situation was about corruption, a festering problem that eats away at the structure of this country and many others in the world. In this particular case, a prominent local person working for an international NGO very blatantly proposed a "deal" in which s/he would pocket part of the funds earmarked for a project that we may become involved in, while in return providing some "support" to us in the bidding process. This is not the first time something like this has happened, and my take on the situation is very clear: no fucking way. I would be the biggest hypocrite in the world if, after getting up on my soapbox so many times to rant about the lack of accountability in the donor universe and the fact that scores of people are abusing the system, I were to turn a blind eye to corrpution when I stand to benefit financially or otherwise. I put my foot down on this one, and only time will tell what the ramifications of this moral position may be, positive or otherwise.

A lot of other stuff happened in the past week, but for now this is all I can write. It's 10:30 and I'm looking forward to crawling into bed with Pria and Parceiro. I'm also looking forward to waking up early, as one of my goals in Rico's absence is to meditate on the varanda for 10 minutes each morning.