I don’t really have anything newsy to say . . . my work has been on hold due to the rains so I’ve been spending most of my time in the office with nothing much to do. That is frustrating for a person who spent her previous 4 years of life rushing from one activity to another, trying to squeeze homework and sleep into the brief spaces between. But I suppose for most people here, waiting around is nothing new. I am always amazed by the capacity of people here to wait around . . .

There are not very many jobs here, and a lot of the few that do exist seem so . . . boring. You could be a guard who sits around a business or home all day (or all night). You could sell things like tomatoes/onions/garlic or toothpaste/cookies/flour/vinegar/hardboiled eggs/cell phone credit in the street (next to someone with the exact same things). You could be a housekeeper for a family with more money where daily tasks might include washing dishes, washing clothes, cooking, babysitting out-of-control children, running errands, or cleaning. You could be a secretary who sits in an office all day, with maybe one or two documents to type each day (if you’re lucky you’ll have internet for entertainment). I don’t know how they do it!

So I guess maybe I have nothing to complain about. At least there are times when I do have work to do. And at least I have the internet (mostly) to keep me company. And things I SHOULD be doing, like studying Portuguese or Shona . . .

So with that, I guess I’d better be a good little student . . .
But I’ll leave you with the words of a gospel choir song from last year that I just rediscovered last night on my Ipod. Maybe it will help me get back up again.

Sometimes you have to encourage yourself
Sometimes you have to speak victory during the test
And no matter how you feel
Speak the Word and you will be healed
Speak over yourself, encourage yourself in the Lord

Sometimes you have to speak the Word over yourself
Depression is all around but God is present here
Well the enemy created woes, but remember giants they do fall
Speak over yourself, encourage yourself in the Lord

As I minister to you, oh I minister to myself
Life can hurt you so, til you feel there’s nothing left
No matter how you feel
Speak the Word over your life and you will be healed
Speak over yourself
Speak over yourself
Speak over yourself
Speak over yourself

I’m encouraged . . .
I’m encouraged . . .
I’m encouraged . . .
I’m encouraged . . .
I’m encouraged, I’m encouraged, I’m encouraged . . . I’m encouraged!

When they said Xai-Xai, I was picturing spending the holidays lounging on the beach. I was picturing big city with the beach in walking or at least chapa distance. But I was quite mistaken! I spent the majority of the holidays in the paradise of Grandma Celeste’s farm.

Grandma (host-mom Carla’s mother) Celeste lives in Chongoene, a “suburb” about 30 minutes outside of Xai-Xai (which turned out to be smaller/less developed than Tete). It’s a fertile countryside where it seems that no one could ever go hungry. It’s a paradise of fruits and vegetables. In her yard alone there were

Oranges (they are green in Moz!),

Lemons,

Pineapples,

Mangoes,

Bananas,

Papayas,

And matapa (greens), avocados, peanuts, and coconuts . . .

Plus lots of animals out and about – ducks, chickens, dogs

A pig that eats mangoes because they are so plentiful

And a cat named Jenny who reminded me of my dear old Zoe-Puff back home.

It rained every day but one. I made it to the beach only long enough to take a couple photos and dip my feet in the water. I was homesick for my family and church’s Christmas traditions. Christmas was not what I expected . . . But I am deeply thankful for the welcome of Carla’s family, the cool temperatures, the bounty of vitamin-rich foods, and the chance to experience the holidays in another culture.

When I asked my host mother about the family’s plans for the holidays and she said “we’re going to my mother’s house in Xai-Xai”, I thought “hmmm . . . Christmas at the beach . . . sounds good . . . can I come?” And so on December 23 I hauled myself out of bed at 2:20 AM, hoisted my bags, and headed to the bus station with the host fam.

I was hoping that after this travel experience I’d be writing an ode to bus travel, as my friends Tezra and Katie wrote about their Central America bus travel adventures . . . but sadly that was not to be. Usually I find bus travel here pretty hilarious but I think I like it better in doses shorter than 24-28 hours. Our mode of transport was a mashibomba (Greyhound size bus), but here there are 5 seats across instead of 4. We purchased tickets for my host parents and I, but six-year-old Heriet and 3 year-old Kelven rode the whole way on our laps.

I won’t bore you with all the details, but the bus wasn’t working properly, Kelven was sick to his stomach, we “spent the night” (ie 4 hours of misery) in the bus, and in the end arrived probably a good 12 hours later than we should have (although one should never have expectations of time in terms of travel here). The highlight came about an hour into the trip when I was baptized with raw meat juice (everyone coming from Tete was taking meat to their Christmas celebrations because Tete is the province where most meat is raised) that leaked through the ceiling of the bus from a box on top – take a moment to remember that I spent the last 2 years as a vegetarian – I was not a happy camper, and needless to say I spent the rest of the trip smelling quite bad.

Our return trip started off much better. The medium sized bus functioned well and we made good time, traveling from Maputo to Chimoio in about 16 hours. But when we arrived in Chimoio our bus driver said he would not continue with us to Tete and transferred us to a different bus. The bus attendant on the new bus was doing some shifty business, so that when we arrived the next “morning” at 3, we discovered that he had oversold the seats. He also insisted that in the back row where we had purchased seats, we had to put 5 people instead of 4 (which was really 8 with our 2 kids and the daughter of the lady next to me). Normally on bus trips there is a lack of personal space, but this was extreme – butt to butt to butt . . . we couldn’t even move our arms really.

I am sick of traveling . . . hope I get over it by next Monday when I board the bus anew . . .