At first, I thought this weekend was potentially a weekend
from hell (excuse my French). A cold has decided to take up residence in my
chest and it makes life fairly miserable when I’m busy all day everyday. I
didn’t want to do anything that was required of me. My language barrier with my
mãe
ruined all of my hopes and plans for the weekend and chores as simple as
washing clothes here are actually secretly daylong workouts. I just took a step
back and realized this is Africa, I’m in Africa and things are weird and
sometimes I just sort of wander around having no clue what’s going on but I
need to embrace it all.
Saturday was Dia do Profesor. We went to the Secondary
School in Namaacha (at 6:30 am because they said there would maybe be a parade
after…it’s Africa…things are random here and sometimes happen but sometimes
don’t…it didn’t) to help clean the school with some students. It was pretty
cool to be able to spend some time around a school and help with some
beautification. I wish we had been able to do more.
Upon returning home, with my nose dripping all over the
place and my head pounding, I was ready to crawl into bed. But my mãe
was awaiting my arrival. It was time to learn how to do laundry. My God laundry
here is a CHORE, legitimately, though I’m fairly sure my clothes have never
been cleaner, they got quite the scrubbing and soaking thanks to my strong
arms.
Sunday, I woke up feeling the worst I have felt since
arriving here in Africa. Now, when I’m sick, I am 1. A big baby 2. Really grumpy
and dislike people. But here, alone time is considered very strange. One
doesn’t just sit in their room all day, sick or not. So my friend and I decided
to follow through with our plan to make gumbo…cue language barrier frustration
aka the straw that broke the camel’s back. We told my mãe many times that this was MY
recipe and WE were going to make it. Naturally, I needed her assistance killing
the chicken, and of course my other Bio teacher friends were more than willing
to help me dissect said chicken. But after that, Salome and I felt we had the
gumbo under control…but instead our food got cooked Moçambiquian style. I was fed up. I
literally ran with my backpack and all of my books to the Science House
(Biology Hub) to hide. And then I realized, my mãe didn’t know I knew how to
cook. I don’t have the language skills yet to quite fully convey to her that I
cook in America, it’s just very different so I need help with little tasks…like
how the hell do I clean the intestine of a chicken and prepare the head for
cooking?? But that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to cook food. So really, I’m
not frustrated with my mãe, I’m frustrated with myself and the slow pace of learning a
new language.
…I’m still craving some actual alone time. But I’m about to
have 2 years of plenty of alone time so I’ll enjoy having a family while I can.
It’s amazing how here, the simple things…like walking to the
little gas station that’s super far away and buying a bar of chocolate with my
friends and laughing hysterically the whole way, can make things seem a whole
lot better. We’re all in the same boat, but at least we have each other.
I have some lesson plans that will just simply not write
themselves and speaking too much English makes me forget the little Portuguese
I do have in my head. So até já!
Moving to a new country and adapting to a new culture can be very difficult. When we move to Germany...AKA little America, my friends told me that it would take about 6 months to get adjusted. I didn't believe, since there is a large American community here and almost everyone speaks English. My friends were 100 true. It took me about 6 months to get used to life and the culture. Don't worry. You will have good days and bad but you will eventually get the hang of things and will eventually not even notice the bad. Hope you feel better and hope you have a better day!
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