This Chapter's Not Quite Over Yet

Ilha dos Portugueses, 2007

Remember this?

After much discussion, Rico and I have decided to stay. :)

Update on Cyclone Favio

Cyclone Favio hit near Vilankulos yesterday and it seems the damage was quite extensive. My friend Jenny has gone up there this morning with a team from her work to do a Humanitarian Assistance Evaluation. Having grown up in an area with relatively no natural disasters, I can't even begin to imagine what it must be like to go through an event like this.

I was really interested in the mission Jenny will be on this weekend, but even if it had been possible for me to join their team, it would not have worked out: I am sick, sick, sick. Two of the four people in the workshop I facilitated had the flu, and it seems I've caught it as well. I've spent the day in bed eating chicken soup, pita bread, Twix and drinking lots of juice. I've also been having fun with the new digital thermometer we bought. For most of the day I've been between 37.5 and 37.8, definitely no fun. Although I feel like crap, amidst the disaster of Cyclone Favio, it's obvious that suffering is all relative and that I truly have nothing to complain about.

More on the cyclone below.

Dozens injured in Moz cyclone
22/02/2007 22:30 - (SA)

Maputo - A powerful tropical cyclone with winds of up to 270km/p surged ashore in southern Mozambique on Thursday, ripping through buildings, knocking out power and injuring scores of people.

Cyclone Favio, the strongest to hit the southern African country, was then heading towards the Zambezi River valley where it was likely to worsen floods that have already killed at least 40 people and driven 120 000 from their homes.

The category-four storm hit Vilanculos, about 800km north of the capital Maputo, early on Thursday, damaging the tourist town's court, prison and market and destroying homes.

Roads were swamped with rain and blocked by uprooted trees, and there was no power in the town as of 18:05.

"I can't do anything because all the roads have been blocked by falling trees and it's even impossible to try and rescue the people whose homes have been hit because there is no access," said Sulemane Amugy, the town's mayor.

Twenty people were injured, according to officials in Vilanculos.

Numbers expected to rise

Sulemane, however, noted the toll might rise as some 720 people were in the town's hospital and jail when the cyclone hit. Both buildings suffered extensive damage.

The National Meteorology Institute, INAM, said Favio's strong winds and rains were concentrated in the province of Inhambane, but were felt as far away as Xai-Xai, the capital of nearby Gaza province.

The storm was moving north towards the central Zambezi River valley, which is already struggling with severe flooding after weeks of heavy rains.

"It's still very strong and heading towards the port city of Beira, Manica and lastly Zimbabwe, but it will reach there a little bit weaker than it is now," said INAM spokesperson Helder Sueia.

Officials said the storm could cause widespread damage to power grids, industry and other key parts of the impoverished nation's small but fast-growing economy.

Growing fears

Another cyclone devastated Mozambique in 2000.

Its impact has already been felt at the holiday resort of Tofo Beach, a favourite of backpackers and scuba divers, where it uprooted palm trees and destroyed electric pylons, reported Radio Mozambique.

The storm also cut off communication with the Bazaruto islands, which are home to a number of upmarket tourist lodges.

There are growing fears that Favio would bring more misery to flood-ravaged central Mozambique, where tens of thousands of people live in temporary shelters with scant food or water.

Officials said the problems could multiply in the coming days as Favio dumps its rains in Zambia, Malawi and Zimbabwe, further swelling the tributaries that feed the Zambezi.

Article available online here.

Fabio is Coming

Today was the kick-off for the strategic planning workshop I'm co-facilitating for a start-up NGO. Last night I was at the office of the consulting firm that contracted me until 9:20pm. (!!!) This on the heels of having worked all damn day on Saturday. Seriously, for as many downsides as the life of an independent consultant may have, let me just say that I L-O-V-E having control over my own time, being able to work like mad for 2 days in a row, then take it super easy the third day. Alas, not so when you are on somebody else's clock. But the workshop is going quite well and it is nice to interact with some new people and, of course, the paycheck is a perk as well. :)

Mozambique is having lots of weather-related difficulties lately. I don't know if it made the news where you all are, but last week saw some serious flooding along the Zambezi valley in central Mozambique. Heavy rains up-river in Zambia and Zimbabwe caused peak levels in the river above the Cahora Bassa dam in Tete Province. The dam managers decided to increase the outflow of the dam gates, thus pushing the already high waters along the lower length of the river over flood point. Things were especially bad around Caia in Sofala Province, the site where a donor-funded bridge over the Zambezi is currently being constructed on the country's main highway, the EN1. Apparently 85,000 people were displaced as a result of the floods, and the UN had to bring in helicopters to do evacuations.

Mozambique is a funny shaped country, like a long fat Y resembling an upside-down afghan hound. The capital, Maputo, is all the way in the south-eastern corner, practially smashed against the borders with South Africa and Swaziland. Since the highway system is dismal and there is still no bridge over the Zambezi (except in Tete Province where it's really not necessary for linking north with south), Mozambique is practially divided in two. North and south might as well be completely different countries, because what happens in one part barely affects the other parts. Case in point is all the flooding. Here in Maputo it was dry as a bone, hot and humid, but with no sign of the storms causing such havoc further up the coast. If not for the images on TV and the reports in the newspaper, residents of the capital would never guess the rest of the country was in such dire straights.

Apparently this week they've closed the flood gates at Cahora Bassa, so the flooding is back under control, althoug there are the subsequent problems of food supply and general reconstruction of lives affected by the rising waters. Now, however, it seems to be Maputo's turn to hold its breath and hope for the best against Nature's potential fury.

A cyclone is heading towards us, having passed to the south of Madagascar and into the Mozambique Channel. Cyclone Fabio is currently a Category 1 storm and is expected to make landfall tomorrow evening near Vilankulos, a resort town a couple hundred kilometers north of Maptuo. However, erratic as storm paths tend to be, there is a chance that Fabio will not veer north and will instead make landfall at Maputo Bay. Right now it's a relatively weak storm as far as these things go, but I must admit the prospect of cyclone is simultaneously exciting and panic-inducing. I'm sure meterology nerds in the hurricane belt of the US understand.

Maybe my workshop sessions will be cancelled on Thursday because of the cyclone!

The Girls Are All Grown Up...

A few minutes ago, desperately needing a break from my Death by Power Point, I decided that a little procrastination was in order. What's my favorite way to waste a bit of time? Google, of course. For some reason I was inspired to look up old friends from elementary school. I discovered that Kate, who was somewhat of an archnemesis of mine, was a cross-country star in college and spent a year abroad in New Zealand. I found some photos of her breaking through the finish line in a race and smiled: Kate looks exactly the same as I remember her.

Free associating, I thought about the other kids that went to school with me and Kate at The Montessori School in Albuquerque. In 5th grade, two new girls joined our class. They were sisters, Nicole and Kristy Austin, who had moved from California with their hot, single mom Tina. In the midst of all the other moms in jeans or business suits, Tina Austin used to show up to school to pick up her girls wearing a leopard print tube top, spandex leggings and patent leather stilettos, her bleached blonde hair pulled back in a high ponytail with a matching leopard print scrunchee.

Nicole and Kristy were like junior carbon copies of their mom. Sure, they wore all the same 80's fashion as the rest of us girls, but there was always something different: their pants were a little tighter, their shirts showed a sliver of midriff, they wore red lip gloss to school, and they always had their hair styled as if participating in a pageant. Nicole and Kristy were my introduction to Valley Girl slang, to Paula Abdul, and to the wonders of the spiral curling iron. Part of me chalked it all up to the girls being from California, but even at the tender age of 10 I knew Nicole and Kristy were on a very different path from the rest of us. They were sweet girls, and we would have sleepovers and go to dance class together and share cherry coke slurpees from 7-11, but differences in our values, upbringings and interests kept us from being really close friends.

A few years ago, an old friend from The Montessori School sent me an e-mail with a link to some Hott Girls Swimsuit Edition calendar out of Phoenix, Arizona with the accompanying message: "Look closely at Miss October and see if you don't recognize her." I opened up the site and took a good look at the model. She had a disproportionately huge boob job and bright dyed blonde hair, but there was no mistaking it. "Coco", the bikini-clad testament to silicone, was Nicole Austin, larger than life and on the fast-track to soft porn. Kristy, her sister, was featured as an extra in the group photo on the calendar's cover and looked equally boobtastic.

So today in my quest to look up old classmates, I remembered the e-mail about Nicole and decided to google her. Imagine my surprise when all of the results that came up were for Coco, Ice-T's skanky wife that I always read about on Perez Hilton. Initially I thought, "No, that can't be Nicole. Ice-T's wife is, like, 35 or something." I don't know why I had this impression. Mabye it's because Coco smacks of some washed-up Hollywood "actress" who desperately clings to her youth by wearing stripper gear and being generally tasteless. Someone like Kimora Lee Simmons, perhaps, or Bai Ling. Whatever, the fact that both women are named Nicole Austin must be a coincidence.

But then I saw a snippet of a biography and my eyes locked on the phrase, "...born in California in 1979, moved to Albuquerque, New Mexico at the age of 10." Holy shit. I started browsing the photo galleries on Perez Hilton and imdb. It took me a while to see through the nose job, the cheek implants, the ginormous 39DD boobs and the butt implants (yes, butt implants), but after a while I saw it. Her eyes are still the same. Oh my God. I used to go to elementary school with Ice-T's Playboy-featured wife. The girl that went trick-or-treating with me in 1990 and taught me how to peg-roll the bottom of my jeans is now the woman with a perma-camel toe and a pound of silicone in each ass cheek. I'm shocked, but honestly not at all surprised.

Somewhere in a storage unit back in the US, I have a photo album full of pictures from 5th grade. I wonder how much a gossip rag would pay for pictures of Coco wearing a puffy paint sweatshirt and playing Twister in my backyard?

For some examples of this woman's class, click here, here, here, here, here and here.

Death by Power Point

Friends, I have been busy lately. I don't think I've worked this hard since my first two projects upon moving to Mozambique: the Input Supply Sector Study and the Tea Processing Plant grant application. Back then I was idealistic and eager to prove myself to my colleagues. Then I saw how everything here worked - people late on deadlines, expat consultants making $700/day to do some bullshit spreadsheet, corruption, donor funds having shamefully little accountability, incompetent people in desperately important positions - I could go on all day.

Yes, there are many hopeful aspects of Mozambique that I notice as well, but unfortunately I got hit with the cynicysm bomb. Hard. Getting an eyeful of reality through this not-so-rosy lens had a huge impact on my work. I felt it happening bit by bit, the laziness creeping in, being content with an 80% effort because it was better than most of the other work being done out there. I became complacent, but as much as I could see what was happening, the shame of not doing my best was never quite enough to provoke a change in attitude.

The change in my work effort this past week isn't, unfortunately, because I've suddenly been injected with hope. Instead, it's because I've been subcontracted by a local consulting firm to do a 5-day strategic planning workshop with a new NGO that wants to support artisans and the development of the art sector in Mozambique. Obviously the scope of this project is interesting to me for personal reasons, but that's not actually why I've been working so hard. It's because, once again, I feel the need to prove myself as a competent consultant.

When I first arrived in Moz, BL and Ricardo were the audience for my efforts to impress. Now they know my work and I feel no need to play that game anymore; I am confident in my abilities, as are they. But now there is a new audience, the partners (all male) in the firm that has hired me. They have a very different approach to projects than I tend to have, and I must work within their guidelines. So this week has seen me pouring over all the analytical tools and matrices that an MBA is supposed to live and die by, learning about the Balanced Scorecard approach to strategic management (another one essential to any self-respecting MBA, but that I completely missed out on in school and thus must teach myself), and creating Power Point slides until my fingers are cramped. I was talking to my mom on Skype last night, telling her how much I was working, and she referenced some book called "Death by Power Point." Genius. I must find this book.

In other news, the boys are doing well and we've avoided any "accidents" this week.

Yesterday was Valentine's Day and, though we worked for the better part of the evening, we had a nice dinner at home to celebrate. I made a huge veggie lasagna, Rico surprised me with a piece of cheesecake from Mundo's, and we had some $4 white wine that was actually not half bad. Rico also smothered me in presents - 4 different potted plants and a gorgeous spice rack that is filled with yummy new inspirations for my cooking.

Alas, I must get back to my workshop preparation. Sigh. The slow, painful Death continues.

Saudades Trapped in Song

Listening: “Open” by Bruce Cockburn.

Remembering: Life in Austin, driving by myself along Farm-to-Market Routes, watching a state that wasn’t mine slowly grow on me.

I always used to listen to a radio station called KGSR. They played a mix of music totally different from that played by my station of choice back in Albuquerque – Viva 101.7, featuring all the best in Pop en Español. When I moved to Austin, my song horizon widened inadvertently with all the country and folk influence in the city. KGSR was my favorite teacher, and I learned all about Lucinda Williams, Waylon Jennings, Steve Earl and, of course, Willie Nelson.

One day as I was driving to work, a song played on KGSR that immediately resonated with me. I had no clue who the artist was, but there was something about his sad fiddle and earnest singing that perfectly captured how I felt about Austin and everything I’d been through the previous year to get me there. This was my introduction to Bruce Cockburn.

Doing: Writing and editing for the final draft of the feasibility study we’ve just done for FAO. For the last several months we’ve been evaluating different scenarios for the development of the Maputo Green Zones, agricultural belts within the city where some 15,000 smallholder producers grow vegetables for local markets and their own consumption. Currently all production and sales by the smallholders are on a very informal basis. We looked at different ways FAO can support the Green Zones producers to organize their production and establish market linkages, thus increasing their incomes and improving nutritional status.

Realizing: That I am starting to really like Mozambican / Angolan music. Rico and I bought a little boom box the other day and have been listening to the radio quite a bit recently, a first for both of us. I’ve always loved Afro-Pop songs, but some of the passada, zouk and marrabenta styles that are so popular here were very slow to grow on me. Sort of the same way I absolutely hated most pagode songs in Brasil until having a fabulous time at Carnaval with a group of friends and actually establishing cool memories to go along with those songs in my head.

I think it’s a definitive point when, as an expatriate, I actually start liking the music of the country where I’m living. It is usually a sign that some subtle internal balance has shifted, adapted to the fact that “home” is now in a different geographical location. It’s a sign that I’ve stopped totally evaluating my life in a new country through the lens of an outsider. I’m ready to hear songs not as a manifestation of a novel, exotic culture that I don’t understand, but as a catalyst for memories of caipirinhas with the girls, long days with Rico sweating in our non-air-conditioned home office, and occasionally, if it’s just the right rhythm and sweet lyric, of the way I’ll one day look back on the time I spent in Mozambique, a foreshadowing of the saudades sure to come.

Long Overdue

As I write the boys are finally being castrated. Fingers crossed that this puts an end to the compulsive pissing and pooing in inappropriate places throughout the house.

Things I will not miss:

• Waking up each morning and embarking on a "treasure hunt" to identify where on earth the smell is coming from.

• Not being able to get a full night's sleep, Version 1: Cats in Bedroom. Waking up every time the cats walk on the mattress, shift position, meow, scratch, or chase each other due to extreme paranoia of being pissed on while I slumber.

• Not being able to get a full night's sleep, Version 2: Cats Out of Bedroom. Having nightmares about people trying to break into the house due to cats slamming against the closed door with all their weight and managing to jimmy open the handle, thus invading the room every 15 minutes and causing me to wake up from said nightmares to shoo the beasts back into the hallway.

• Not being able to get a full night's sleep, Version 3: The Water Bottle. This was our latest solution, and it actually worked semi-well for the past couple of days. Rico had the brilliant idea to fill up a squirt bottle with water and sleep with it next to the bed. We left the door open, and each time the boys started to act up, Rico or I would paw around in the dark for the squirt bottle and let fly with a stream of water onto the offending cat. Although this method did provide for some great entertainment and seemed to thwart most of the "accidents", it alas did not allow for peaceful sleep either.

I'm hoping that the down-time required for the boys to recuperate from the big snip will also break them of their latest habit: they've learned how to open the freezer. The other day Rico and I walked into the kitchen to find the freezer wide open, the tip of Parceiro's tail barely visible curving around the side of the door (we have a reversed fridge/freezer where the congelador is actually the bottom half of the appliance). Not only had the cat managed to nudge open the freezer, Parceiro apparently liked the cool air so much that he decided to get all the way inside and make himself comfortable on top of the ice trays. To ensure we didn't think it was a fluke occurance, Parceiro went ahead and pulled this trick two more times before Rico finally squashed the fun with a lock and key for the freezer door. Now the cats have taken to scrabbling against the plastic siding of the appliance and it's just a matter of time before they bust the lock.

Though the thought of cat hair in my ice totally grosses me out, I can't say I blame the boys. I would have gladly climed into the freezer myself during the blisteringly hot, humid days of late if I'd thought there was a fleeting chance I'd fit in there.

Rico has just left to pick up the boys from the vet. Fingers crossed, my friends. Fingers crossed.

An Itch for New Flavors

Lately I've been in a cooking rut. It seems I always make some variation on the theme of 5 or 6 staple dishes. I try and mix it up, but the general lack of ingredients and the horrid problems with stock control in all the grocery stores and markets in the city make it tough. Today I'd had enough. I decided it was high time for some serious experimenting.

I took my inspiration from the Mexicans, who love the combination of mango and chile. I had a boyfriend in college who was from Juarez and would make the 4-hour drive home each weekend just to stock up on Mexican candy, his favorite being mango lollipops coated in red chile powder that came with a satchet of salt attached to the stick to sprinkle on the candy as one licked through the layers of spicy and sweet. I tried these lollipops once and thought they were absolutely disgusting. My favorites were the logs made of condensed milk and shredded coconut, dyed red and green to mimic the Mexican flag.

Today, however, as I sat in the kitchen trying to put some not-quite-ripe mangoes to good use, I decided to revisit the flavor combination I'd so soundly rejected years ago. The prospect of fresh ingredients, as opposed to a processed confection sticky from sitting in the sun in some streetcorner vendor's tray, was much more appealing. Feeling the creative kitchen juices flow, I made the following salad:

2 almost-ripe mangoes, peeled and cut into cubes
2 tsp chopped fresh cilantro (coriander)
1 lime, juiced
1/2 tsp salt
1 tbsp New Mexico red chile powder, mild
1 tsp red pepper flakes (vary according to taste)

As a main dish, I stir-fried some pork cubes and added a few spoonfulls of curry powder. It was delicious, but I do admit being partial to sweet/spicy and meat/fruit combinations. Even Rico liked the mango salad, although he ate it more as a chutney while mine was piled high over half the plate.

Maybe I should get my hands on one of those Mexican lollies the next time I'm in the US and give it another go...

To Be Fair, I Also Look Just Like Dad

Desperate Measures Needed

Any of you that regularly read my blog will know that we've been having some serious problems with our cats acting out. For the record I think it's just one cat, Pria, a.k.a The Bad One, but the paranoid part of my personality thinks that perhaps making these accusations and singleing out one cat as the troublemaker is actually contributing to the revenge episodes.

It started with a few accidents on the bed. At the time, the boys had runny poo from poor quality commercial cat chow, so I thought we were dealing with accidents. Then I started feeding them homemade food and the poo solidified nicely. Yet there would still be little presents on our bed, both number one and number two. I started to notice a pattern. Whenever the cats were upset about something - lack of attention, less than spotless litterbox, time spent with cat-sitter, etc. - we would get a very clear message of revenge. Unfortunately, the preferred spot for these little gifts has always been our bed.

After a while, Rico and I decided to be proactive about the situation. I clean the litterbox compulsively. We make a special effort to play with the cats, give them new toys, make sure they have a good diet, and whatever else seems necessary to keep them healthy and happy. We also decided to keep our bedroom door closed during the day, thus eliminating the possibility of revenge poos or pisses on the bed while we are away. This seemed to work for a while.

The problem is that I love to sleep with the cats. Obviously this has become problematic, as Rico and I wake up multiple times each time Pria or Parceiro shifts around, paranoid that they are about to let fly on the bed. Our quality of sleep has significantly declined, and we finally came to the sad decision that we must keep the boys out of our bedroom at night as well.

Not surprisingly, they are not at all happy about this decision. The first few nights they (and by they I mean Pria) showed their disapproval by pissing on the guest bed and the couch. Then the boys (and again by boys I mean Pria) learned how to open the door to our bedroom by stretching their paws up and leaning on the handle. They were opening the door once every five minutes. Obviously another solution was in order to help recuperate our peaceful sleep.

The other night Rico had an idea. We have a large wicker chest of drawers in the bedroom that slides nicely across the floor and is just the right size and weight to wedge in front of the door so that feline attempts to open said door are thwarted. This keeps the boys out of the bedroom, but it pisses them off and makes them, well, piss all over the house. It also involves us learning how to fall asleep listening to what sounds like someone trying to break into the house. You wouldn't think that little cats could make such an impact when jumping against a door, but they certainly do. It's terrible.

Every morning we wake up and follow our noses to find the lastest pile of poo or pool of piss left during the night. My only hope is that castrating the boys will help this problem. We would have already done it, but getting cats neutered in Mozambique is not a cheap procedure. Right now we are waiting on a check from one of our consulting projects that should be issued by Friday. Once that money is available, we are putting the cats in their handmade wicker cat carrier and marching them straight to the Vet school at Eduardo Mondlane University for the big snip.

Sunday Scribblings: Goodbyes

Not surprisingly, I hate goodbyes. I live a good 10,000 kilometers from most of the people that I fiercely love, the friends that have come into my life in unexpected places like the line at the bank or a shared aisle in a plane, the family that I was blessed with and the family that I have chosen over the years.

It seems like I am constantly leaving at least one of these people, finding a way to fit all essential posessions and small indulgences in two suitcases, trying to capture all the memorable moments on film or on paper or in a final soul-squeezing hug so that I might be sustained by these slivers of the past while away.

I hate saying goodbye, but I do recognize a silver lining amidst the ache of absence: it makes the next airplane ride back home that much more exciting, the next bondinho ride up the hill to Santa Teresa that much more beautiful, and the next face-to-face smile with a loved one that much sweeter.

In Which I Look Increasingly Like My Mother

I haven't had bangs since I was in 6th grade. Now that I've finally mustered up the courage to cut them again, I can't help but think I look just like my Momma Dog...and that's not at all a bad thing at all! :)

Exciting Times this Week

* I finally got a haircut. I had the woman chop off all the grown-out-highlights-turned-blue, which took a good 4 inches off my hair. While at it, I asked Sra. São to go ahead and give me bangs. Yes, bangs. Fringe. Franja... I love it!!

* Jenny and I have started going to a cha-cha-cha class taught by a Cuban professor named Felix. The students range from ex-professional dancers to a poor boy who kept speeding up the cha-cha-cha part and raced through every step sans rhythm. The graduates of the cha-cha-cha class then have the option of moving on to the salsa class. I can't wait.

* I ate a delicious pineapple cream tart today. For breakfast. While waiting for Jenny and crew to pick us up to go to the beach. We're not going camping, but we are getting some sand and sun at a nearby place called Macaneta. No speedboat necessary to get there, just a batelão, a floating platform of a ferry where the cars load up to cross the bridgeless Inkomati river.

* Yesterday I received a lovely shipment of beads and silver from my Uncle and his family via DHL.

* And speaking of mail, I received not one but TWO holiday cards in the mail a few weeks ago. I couldn't believe it. One was from Paris Parfait in France, the other from my friend Gaby in London. I nearly keeled over from the shock of it all. There are absolutely no guarantees, but anyone inclined to test out the postal system here is welcome to give it a shot.

* Exciting, but not in a particularly good way, is that Pria has sent us several pointed messages in the last week. First was an epic piss on our bed that soaked through the mattress and took an entire bottle of bleach to burn out the smell. Following that episode we decided to discipline the cats (is this even a plausible concept?) and keep them out of our room for a while. The result? A massive turd pile on the wicker armchair, neatly hidden behind one of the throw pillows. Had I not seen the smallest little smudge of shit on the cushion, I can only imagine what might have happened had a guest come over and decided to sit on that chair.

* In other news about the boys, they have learned how to open the door to our bedroom. Three times now we've gone to bed with the door firmly shut, only to wake up in the middle of the night with a snuggle or a meow. How they are managing to do it I can only imagine, but the boys are certainly resourceful when so inclined.

* Beach time!! Have a great weekend.

Island Weekend

This past Sunday we decided it was high time to get out of Maputo, not in the permanent sense but at least for a little weekend jaunt.

We boarded the Zavora, the boat of our acquaintance Sérgio, and navigated for an hour through the Bay of Maputo.

The water was beautiful, the sun was strong - a little too strong, maybe, seeing as Rico and Jenny took to singing the theme from Indiana Jones at one point during the boat ride.

Our first stop was Portuguese Island, a deserted island that is a nature reserve and a little slice of heaven just outside Maputo. I spent the entire afternoon collecting shells, floating in the super salty water, and catching up with Jenny, Lies and her boyfriend (also named Ricardo, also a Brasilian).

We ended the day with a super seafood lunch on Inhaca, a large island next to Portuguese Island that covers the mouth of the Bay of Maputo. After red snapper and a couple of beers, we were ready for more sun and a good nap on the boat on the way back (at least that was the plan for me and Jenny).

All around a fabulous excursion. So much so that we are contemplating another trip this weekend, only this time to go camping overnight!

Embraceable You

Mime idea swiped from Jemima, Queen of Mimes. Answers courtesy of my iTunes on shuffle.

Q: What does next year have in store for you?

"Toda Cor" - Titãs. Eu preciso de você agora, por favor meu bem não vai embora. Translated: I need you now, please my love don't leave.

Q: What does your love life look like next year?

"Limón y Sal" - Julieta Venegas. One of my favorite songs currently. Such a beautiful, sweet love song. Sólo tenerte cerca, siento que vuelvo a empezar, Yo te quiero con limón y sal, Yo te quiero tal y como estás, No hace falta cambiarte nada, Yo te quiero si vienes o si vas, Si subas o bajas o no estás, Seguro de lo que sientes. Translated: Just having you near me, I feel I can start again. I love you with lemon and salt, I love you exactly as you are, No need to change anything about you, I love you if you are coming or going, If you come up or go down or aren't here, Certain of what you feel.

Q: What do you say when life gets hard?

"I'm Sorry" - Bluegrass de la Vuelta. Especially if I'm the one making life hard.

Q: Song that reminds you of good times?

"Trickle" - Olive. First heard this artist in my Nia white belt training last February in Cape Town. That was one of the best weeks of my life.

Q: What do you think when you get up in the morning?

"Tanto Amar" - Chico Buarque. Another sweet love song. Nice to know this is the underlying sentiment when I open my eyes and see another person in my bed. If I had to pick the song I think it would be more along the lines of "I Hate my Fucking Alarm Clock" by 10 More Minutes.

Q: What song will you dance to at your wedding?

"La Paz de Tus Ojos" - La Oreja de Van Gogh. Whatever. The REAL answer to this question is "Touch in the Night" by Freshlyground.

Q: Song that reminds you of your first kiss?

"If Dreams Come True" - Ella Fitzgerald. Perfect answer if my first kiss hadn't been a traumatic, slobbery affair while watching "Jurassic Park" in an overly air-conditioned movie theater.

Q: Your favorite saying?

"Caravan" - John Santos and the Machete Ensemble. Hmmm. Latin jazz song from collection called Cuba Without Borders. Something to do with being a 21st Century Nomad, perhaps?

Q: Favorite place?

"Can't Cry Anymore" - Sheryl Crow. The calm when you've sobbed it all out and actually feel a bit better is always a favorite of mine.

Q: Most missed memory?

"Amore Che Vieni, Amore Che Vai" - Fabrizio de André. My grandma gave me this cd for my birthday and, I must say, it is amazing. Saudades of loves that come and go? Sure.

Q: What song describes your best friend?

"Bittersweet Symphony" - The Verve. There is something bittersweet about not having one lifelong best friend, rather a handful of amazing people that I share best-friend-type connections with yet only see about once every 7 years.

Q: What song describes your ex?

"Viva Pernambuco" - Antúlio Madureira. Excellent frevo music from a local Recife artist. Fitting only if this represents the hate I'm sure my ex feels for Brasil. Viva!

Q: Where would you go on a first date?

"Atimo em Pó" - Gilberto Gil. I admit I've never really listened closely to this song. But I'd go to a Gilberto Gil concert for a first date in a heartbeat.

Q: Drug of choice?

"Ideologia" - Cazuza. Excuse me while I get up on my soapbox. I'm in need of a high. Ideologia, eu preciso de uma pra viver...

Q: What song describes yourself?

"O Pulso" - Titãs with Arnaldo Antunes. This song lists every disease imaginable in the verses - typhoid fever, chicken pox, toxoplasmosis, malaria, hepatitis, mumps, depression, schizofrenia - then goes on to a simple chorus: o pulso ainda pulsa. The pulse still pulses. Despite it all, some do survive.

Q: What is the thing you like doing most?

"Black is Beautiful" - Elis Regina. Uh oh. She died of a cocaine overdose. Definitely not what I like best. Analyzing in another way, I suppose I love to see all the unique ways in which I'm gorgeous. Seriously. I am vain. I love clothes and jewelry and makeup. I often gaze into my own eyes in a mirror and think that I am beautiful. In my case it's Light Olive of Italian Descent Is Beautiful. Despite all the self-image problems. Go figure.

Q: What is the song that best describes the President?

"Don't Think of Me" - Dido. Won't that be nice one day when he's finally out of office and his dreadful decisions have ceased to make international headlines.

Q: Where will you be in 10 years?

"Buena" - Morphine. That's right. I'll be super buena, the very definition of hottness approaching 40. See? The vanity's still there.

Q: Your love life right now?

"Tryin' to Throw Your Arms Around the World" - U2. A better definition of how I feel right now could not be found, I think. I am unbelievably happy and I know how lucky I am. I want everything to work out forever and the idea that life can go wrong makes me want to grab it all and hold on tight, no matter how impossible a feat this is.

Q: What is your state of mind at the moment?

"Real Wild Times" - Stoic Frame. Local band from New Mexico - yay state pride! I think this is spot on. I mean, I do live in Mozambique and am contemplating a move to Rio de Janeiro. Definitely some real wild times for the girl from Albuquerque.

Q: How will you die?

"Favourite Item" - Elvis Costello. Death by silver necklace??

Q: The song you'll put as a subject?

"Embraceable You" - Billie Holiday with Eddie Heywood.

Sunday Scribblings - Chronicles

It's been a while since my last contribution to Sunday Scribblings. For this week's prompt I will keep with dictionary definition #2 of Chronicle and offer you a "detailed record or report," in this case straight from the joural I kept during my exchange year in Brasil in all its unaltered teenage-angsty glory.

When I wrote this I had just turned 16 years old and was on a boat trip through the Amazon with 28 fellow exchange students from around the world.

06 December, 1997

We packed up this morning and got ready to board the boat. I went to the supermarket to buy water, cookies and fruit. Then I went to town again to take pictures. Santarém was so different than Manaus or Presidente Figuereido. It was a dry, slow, poor town that had it's own hot, tropical beauty. There were little kids filling buckets with drinking water who looked scared of me until I'd smile.

We got on the boat and I'm sort of in shock. It's not an amazingly large ship or anything - it's 3 stories high, not too long. But, somehow 400 people fit on it. There are people packed together sleeping in redes (hammocks) - it's like a cattle car. We're staying in air-conditioned cabins, 4 people per room. It's incredibly squashed and I feel claustrophobic in our cabin. There's not even room to walk around. We watched a really sad movie about a little boy with AIDS - it made me homesick. We're going to be on this boad for the next 2 days. Aaahh!!

I was sitting near the rail of the boat when we set off and I got to see the "encontro das águas" (meeting of waters) of the Tapajós and Amazonas rivers. It was like a line of green against brown. I was sitting looking at the water and I began thinking abotu stuff. Who my friends really are, how I'm really alone when it comes down to it, my various experiences travelling, and home in the US. I was in a strange, pensiove mood which was a nice change.

07 December, 1997

Day two on the boat. Last night I slept more than I have in quite a while. I think it's from the lack of anything else to do. Last night, we went on a cachaça (sugarcane alcohol) mission. Tim bought it on the mainland and hid it in his shirt. Other than that, I spent the evening watching movies in our room.

Slept late this morning, took a cold shower in our small, rusty bathroom. Now we're all sitting on deck just hanging out and writing in gringo books and journals.

I feel weird. Sort of depressed, sort of bored, sort of confused. I have that panicky, trapped feeling about eating again. I feel fat - I can't escape it. I want to be sick so I can be skinny. I desperately want a scale, just so I can know how much I've gained or lost. I feel so jealous of K. sometimes. She has a perfect stomach and all the brazilians love her. She tries so hard and loves every activity we do. I feel inadequate.

I need to get off this boat. I need to occupy myself. I need some motivation not to eat. I need confidence. I need hope.

I've been feeling a bit homesick on this trip. I guess it's because I've had a lot of experiences that remind me of, or make me want to be with Mom. This was the first time I've gotten sick and thrown up without her - I want someone to hold my hair and stroke my face and hug me better. Also, the last time I was overnight on a boat was in Greece. This makes me remember what I was going through then. I feel desperate and alone.

But then I watch the brazilians here dance their seductive, latin dances and I think life will go on and thigns will be okay. These people live their lives packed into hammocks, waiting, waiting. Waiting an dwatchign the muddy river and the trees, the scenery that never seems to change. It's a slow, hot existence but they survive. I, also, will survivie.

My problems are different, pettier perhaps. I just need to keep my silver bracelet close to my heart, the knowledge from "The Power of One", the memories and lessons that are still in my home in New Mexico, my music, my photography, the memories of beaches - Grado, Greece, Tahiti, Hawaii, Brazil - and the knowledge I already have gotten here in Brazil, and I'll be okay. I can't give up, no matter how fat or lonely I feel. Each day I can start over.

I read back through these entries and, while I can literally remember the table on the boat deck I was sitting on and the pen I was using to write and the desperation of the moment as if it were yesterday, it seems like these adventures unfolded centuries ago and were the chronicle of a completely different person.

It makes me sort of sad to read back through my journals. I've wasted a lot of time already on the same issues, but at least I'm going through all this at my age and not 50 years from now.

Some things make me smile. I still love beaches and just thinking of collecting shells in the sand can make me instantly calm. We went to the beach today at Inhaca island and I collected shells and swam in the warm water for hours. It was exactly what I needed, just as it was back when I was 16.

Latest Designs

Dark blue freshwater stick pearls, satin finish glass beads

Lilac japanese seed beads, iridescent handmade glass beads, 3-strand braid necklace and earrings

Necklace and earring set of quartz crystal teardrops, fuschia swarovski bicone accents

Silver irreguarl freshwater pearls, freshwater round pearls, quartz and sterling silver accents

Necklace that I will keep because it represents my parents. Turquoise and silver pendant was a gift from my Dad. Multi-color turquoise rondelles were a gift from my Mom. Design idea and handiwork by yours truly.

Deliberation on Next Steps

Lone Poppy. Fredericksburg, Texas. 2004

I think it's safe to say that 85% of the major decisions I've made in life have been based on intuition. After learning a bit about my wanderings and adventures, people often ask, "Weren't you afraid to ______________?" Fill in the blank with any number of life choices such as Study in Brasil at Age 15, or Live Alone in Rio de Janeiro, or Move to Mozambique, or even Get in a Serious Relationship with Your Boss.

The answer is "no". I've never been afraid to take these leaps of faith because I blessed with an insanely strong intution. With most big decisions, I just know. I can always provide a string of rational arguments as to why my choice is a solid one to appease parents, friends or colleagues as necessary; however a reasonable weighing of pro's and con's isn't what ultimately motivates me to pack up everything and move across continents. Certain options simply feel right on a cellular level, bringing about, when pondered, a slow-wave resonance that grounds my gut and calms my worrying mind.

For the last year or so, I've been in somewhat of a funk and can make a laundry list of things that I don't like about my present situation. I'm far from my family and it's a long, expensive trip to go home. I miss them so much I want to cry. I don't have a structured work environment and allow myself to procrastinate endlessly, at my own expense. I am super cynical about development work and feel this attitude creep into my ability and willingness to do consulting work. I don't even like consulting work to begin with (I think). Our income is ridiculously unstable and the fluctuations and financial stress are more than I ever experienced as a student. Oh yeah, I was supported by my parents back then. Oh yeah, if I'm honest I still am and have loads of debt to eventually repay to the Bank of Mom and Dad. I sleep too much but am always tired. I have these God awful allergies that are undoubtedly stress-related. I don't have access to competent medical care. I miss having access to healthy, organic food. I feel fat. I miss my friends. I feel guilty about all the poverty I see around me, but at the same time resent the "handout" mentality of so many people I've come across in Mozambique. Some days I truly believe there is no solution to the problems here, and that worse yet, I may be part of the problem myself. I could go on, and on, and on. Pity party for Ali.

Some days it gets so bad that I call my Mom or Dad or Ricardo and moan and cry on Skype about how unhappy I am here. I've lived in Mozambique for almost 2 years and I still don't feel like I'm in my element. Okay, recently I've made some really amazing girlfriends and I do admit this has helped elevate my quality of life and well-being at least 200%. And I do have a wonderful boyfriend. And family. But there are still these days when I am simply miserable. I feel lost professionally and uprooted personally. What to do, what to do?

Sick of playing poor me, and supported by my boyfriend who is no doubt sick of hearing about poor me, we started to devise a plan. Rico and I have been considering our options for several months, weighing the benefits and downsides of staying here in our present occupations, looking for stable work in Moz, moving back to Brasil, moving to the US, moving to Italy, moving to Dubai.

The one obvious thing was that something's got to give. My body is giving me that message loud and clear. First with these lousy allergy attacks on a weekly basis with no cure and no medicines or treatments out there that give me any relief, then this week I got a case of psoriasis on my scalp. The other day I was sitting at the computer running my hands through my hair when I felt these crusty layers of scalp peeling off at my fingertips. I freaked out, ran to the bathroom mirror, and started madly scratching at these thick plates on my head. It was supremely gross, and it freaked me out. Thankfully Jenny had some Neutrogena T-Gel that she gave me that seems to be helping, but guess what? Stupid psoriasis is caused by, among other things, stress. I'm sure the heat wave of late hasn't helped either, but my body is sending some serious "Pay Attention to Me and Change Shit Around in Your Life" messages.

Glad to oblige. As I said, Rico and I have been making plans. I haven't shared in the blog yet because I don't know who reads this and Maputo is a really, really small place and I didn't want news to get out before we'd had a chance to make an announcement to our collegagues. Oh, well.

Today I've decided to write.

Basically Rico got offered a job in Rio de Janeiro that is supposed to start in April. We're both tired of living on the edge financially speaking - one month we get king's salaries, then have no paying clients for the next 5 months - so he accepted the offer. We were all set making plans for the big move. Sell all of our things, break our lease on the flat, figure out how to ship the boys to Brasil, purchase tickets, etc. I even just sent out an e-mail to my friends in Brasil finally letting them in our plans (we've been plotting for several months but I've kept my mouth shut as has Rico).

For me, on the surface at least, a move to Brasil seemed to be a welcome thing. There's the casa rosa that I am completely in love with and have never truly lived in, Rio is one of my favorite cities on earth, I have lots of friends there from when I went to school in 2000/2001, Rico's family is there, it's an easy and much cheaper plane ride back to the US to visit my family.

Not to mention that I've been plotting a total career change to be a jewelry designer and creator and Brasil seems like an exciting market in which to launch my collection. I've been working on a business plan, imagining what my site will be like for online purchases, and even brainstorming about a way to involve women from the favelas around the casa rosa to train them in jewelry making techniques, and launch a parallel jewelry line made by these women whose proceeds will benefit the community.

It's like all I can do is eat, breathe and dream jewelry these days. I've been having regular jewelry parties at my house as well as the craft fairs as usual. I'm starting to create a name for myself here in Maputo as a jewelry designer and that is an amazing feeling. I sit and imagine a life spent pursuing a craft that I am passionate about, plus a component of social good. I want to set an example by doing what I love in this life. I want to get away from the ego-and-money-driven world of consulting, even when it masquerades as development work. One of the advantages of Rico accepting a stable, normal job in Rio is that we'll have a guaranteed income and I'll actually be able to take 2 years or whatever and take metalsmithing and gemology classes and try and make this jewelry thing work.

It all seemed to be coming together. Plans made, paths targeted for a better, less stressful future. Then it all changed.

Just this week Rico was semi-offered a professional opportunity here that would make it worthwhile for us to stay. It has to do with a high-profile venture capital fund and a well-connected person that has recommended Rico for a key position managing said fund. Rico's decision to leave Maputo is based on financial terms. If the potential to make money is greater here, Rico would like to stay. If the accompanying ups and downs of a consultant's life are too high a price to pay, then a stable job in Brasil is the way to go even if it means a lower income. (Oh yeah, he also likely bases his decision to stay or go based on the crazy mood swings and desires of yours truly, as explained earlier in this post.) So now, just as we have confirmed dates for our move and are starting to announce that we will leave Maputo in April, this fabulous once-in-a-professional-lifetime chance comes up for Rico. If one thing we've learned here, it's that things don't always work out as you hope they will or as they are promised to you. So we're not counting our chickens before they hatch. Things could totally fall through and we're prepared for this. But the idea is exciting and has made both of us re-think our decision to leave in April.

Rico is a rational thinker and does not make decisions motivated by intuition (at least that's how it appears to me). He came to Moz to make money and to take advantage of an opportunity in the market. Once there is better money or more opportunities elsewhere, his decision is simple: Leave.

My motivations are a bit more difficult to pinpoint. I came to Mozambique because I felt it was the right path to take. I didn't come to make money or to become a super successful consultant. I didn't come to save all the poor children and I didn't come to find my spiritual roots in mighty Africa. I moved because it felt like the right thing to do. I had high hopes about this experience and felt that I could make a difference somewhere, somehow.

Now, despite all the supremely frustrating moments, rampant cynicysm, bouts with depression and general moaning about how hard it is to live here, my gut says that we should stay. If I had to make the decision today, even without the certainty of this great opportunity for Rico, I'd choose not to leave.

This seems crazy on so many levels. I feel like I've been pushing everyone to get the hell out of here and now, if I'm really honest with myself, I don't think I want to leave. I can't even begin to explain it. I just feel as if it would be a step in the wrong direction to abandon ship after nearly 2 years (3 in Rico's case) of hard work, blood, sweat, tears and money poured into making something work in Africa. It's been phenomenally hard for me to admit this because I feel guilty about wanting to stay, even if it is a very split decision and part of me still wants to go to Brasil or the US. I feel like I'm going to disappoint my parents, my friends and Beth, the lonely woman who takes care of the casa rosa and is like a member of our family. Ha - look at me - making decisions worrying about how others will think and feel instead of what I how I will think and feel. The very enemy of intuition and good decisions right there...

Even crazier is that my hate for consulting has been somewhat tempered. I definitely don't want this to be my main occupation, and I am gut-level certain that I want to give jewelry design a legitimate chance. But...I don't want to turn my back completely on this work. I know that I have a gift for the particular role I play in our consulting work - translating other people's ideas and projects into convincing, bankable business plans and grant applications - and I don't want to leave it behind 100%.

I am conscious, however, of continuing with this work in whatever capacity for the right reasons. I don't want to be a consultant because I'm driven by a need for recognition. I don't want to do this because I need to be reminded that I am "the best" at something, that I write words worth millions and millions of dollars - literally. I want to continue doing part-time consulting and fundraising because of the aspects of this line of work that I legitimately enjoy. I love the challenge of creating a framework for a document, the mix of creativity and solid business knowledge that go into writing about the complexity of a project. I like to be an engineer of words as much as I like to be an artist of words. Technical and creative writing are equally as satisfying to me, each forcing me to flex my linguistic abilities in a unique way.

And wouldn't you know, there seems to be a steady stream of work coming my way in terms of consulting opportunities here in Maputo. Not to mention the fact that of the 3 potential markets I've considered for launching my jewelry business - Mozambique, Brasil and the US - this one is actually the most interesting because I am exclusive in the market. Granted there is that whole problem with the postal system, but I'll work my way around it if need be. For the first time in a long time, I feel excited about the possibilities of Mozambique again. Still cynical, but motivated and inspired. I suppose that's the difference almost 2 years of Africa makes; it is the slow, painful transition from Idealist to Realist.

This ended up being much longer than I'd expected. I guess I needed to get some things off my chest. I've been thinking a lot lately...sometimes a good write in the blog makes things clearer.

Bottom line: I don't know what we will do. Perhaps we will leave in April, perhaps we will stay and start a new chapter in our Mozambican experience. For now that's okay.

and 4 Have Been Home at Some Point...

Idea inspired by Mandi's blog. All the countries I've visited in my 25 years. Looks like the East is in some dire need of attention. :)

create your own visited countries map

As of Late...

The Good:

• Lots of new beads and jewelry supplies thanks to recent shipments from family and boxes smuggled into Moz on my behalf by friends going back to the US for the holidays.
• Rico and I re-joined the gym after nearly 7 months absence. We each set health goals - Rico is already way ahead of his and I am plodding along right on track. Slow going, but it actually feels really good to be back on a treadmill/stationay bike/instrument of torture of the day.
• After 2.5 days without water in our building, we can now flush the toilet, wash the dishes and have a shower like regular city-dwellers again.
• We have ample work. The project on horticultural production for FAO is well underway, our timber project looks as if it may (finally!) be funded, and we've renewed contact with the banana client and are going to finish a strategic plan for the expansion of his business.
• I'm throwing another jewelry/brownie/cocktail party this week. The last one was quite successful and I'm really looking forward to this one. I've made tons of cool new stuff, and thanks to free publicity from my girls here in Maputo, I've started to make a name for myself in this city as a jewelry designer.

The Bad:

• Cable/internet company charging us on direct debit for 6 months of service instead of just 1, thus wreaking havoc on my small savings and launching us into a customer service war like never before seen to obtain a refund.
• Vodacom sending me an SMS that my phone would be cut off on Saturday due to lack of payment. Detail: this month's bill was debited from our account just last week, and we had a bank statement at home to prove it. Cue yet another customer service war, although this one took one simple fax to resolve in the end.
• My hair. I desperately need a haircut. Chopping it off myself worked in the short-term, but now it's grown out and looks plain awful.

The Ugly:

• Heat wave last week with temperatures well over 40C for several days. We have no air conditioning. For part of the heat wave, we had no water at home. Thank God we joined the gym because we could at least have a shower...although the aircon there broke as well with the excessive temperatures.
• Allergy attacks more severe than ever, with a record 2 attacks this past week. All the hope I had for holistic treatment here has gone out the window. My only hope at this point is that my allergies will go away as soon as we 1) move away from Moz, 2) have access to proper medical care including allergy specialist, 3) have access to proper holistic care including acupuncturist and homeopath.
• A friend that is in dire straits and I don't know how to help. It's an awful feeling watching someone in a really, really bad situation when you know that pretty much everyone's hands are tied (even those of the person in the bad situation) and that any course of action would have serious consequences...think violence, threats, etc.
• Flooding and flood threats along much of the Zambezi River in central Moz. In Quelimane, a city on the coast, they received 344mm of rain over the last 24 hours. That is more than the average rainfall for the entire month of January.

and The Random:

• The staple diet throughout most of Sub-Saharan Africa is a maize porridge called xima, pap, sadza, etc. depending on which country and which language you're dealing with. Maize is the most important crop for most communities here, regardless of what form it comes in. Maize is originally a New World food, so it follows that it was introduced to the African continent by European explorers, likely the Portuguese. How is it that a foreign crop became the overwhelming element of the local diet and what are the reasons for this? What was the staple diet of the people here before the introduction of maize? It is well known that a diet based in maize is not the most balanced or nutritious as far as grains go. Maize is also one of the cheapest crops available. Was this change in food habits economically motivated? I am very curious about this.
• I highly recommend Saudi Aramco World as a wonderful magazine, either in print or online.
• Does anyone know how to say "walrus" in Portuguese?

That's all for now. Hope you all are doing well, wherever you are.