When I said I wanted to go on the outreach, I didn't know that I was going to be mugged for my flashlight. But that comes later. (Don't worry Dad, I'm fine!)Just like everything else in Mozambique, the plans for the outreach were chaotic. First we thought everyone could go. Then we found out that 10 of us could go. Then we found out that 10 actually meant 5 on the medical trip and 5 on the regular outreach. Then we found out that 5 was actually 2. Then it turned into 4. Those of us who wanted to go submitted our names and they drew lots. I was informed that I was not chosen. And then the evening before the trip I was told that someone had cancelled, and I was going after all.
Amy and I decided to share a tent. We used hers, since it was freestanding, and the tent I had borrowed needed stakes. We practiced putting it up in the dirt of the visitors' compound.
Friday morning we had a 7:30 team meeting with Fred to prepare for the trip, but the other guys didn't wander out until 8:30, and it trns outthat the trip itself was moved back to 10, and ended up not leaving until 11:30. I continue to wonder if this much confusion is really necessary.
The ride itself is uncomfortable, because we are squashed like sardines and when we hit a pothole there is no good way to brace yourself. I'm trying to sit on my mini-sleeping bag, to provie some padding for the bumps, but I keep sliding off. The driver is actually doing a great job of avoiding 90% of the potholes, but occasionally we crash into a bone-jarring crater. I'm not surprised to find out that it literally hurts to sit down for days afterwards. The truck makes a few unexplained stops. The driver decides when and where to go. We are never sure whether it's safe to get out or whether he'll suddenly start up without us. Sitting in a crowded heap in the back, its hard to tell if someone is missing. On one occasion we start up without someone. It takes the whole group of us yelling and pounding on the cab roof to finally get the truck to stop.
We finally arrive at the village. We don't know what it is called, or where we are, but we are here. We climb stiffly out of the truck, hobbled in our long skirts, and start settup up our tents in the middle of the village, surrounded by a curious crowd of villagers. It is as if the circus has come to town, and we are it!
I fantasize that they are comparing their mud huts with our state-of-the-art camping gear, and wondering why we have these silly dwellings that are too short to stand up in. I'm so glad I practiced putting the tent up!
Once the tents are up, we play with the kids until it is time for the movie. Some of the women on the team are incredible -- within 5 minutes they have the children playing 'duck duck goose'. Others are teaching the kids an elaborate clapping game. Still others are the center of attention simply for being blond. I can't think of any games to play, but the children seem happy to just come hold my hand. They are fascinated at being able to see the blue veins through my light colored skin. They rub my freckles to see if they are dirt that will come off, and then look at my face to make sure it is ok.
One of the guys is like the pied piper. He has gathered a crowd of kids around him and is shouting out praises to God in Portuguese. "Gloria a Deos!" The kids eagerly shout it back. Then he runs out of Portuguese and switches to English, and the kids echo it back: "God is Good!" "God is Good!" "All the time!" "All the time!". Finally he runs out of things to say in English, and tries to wrap it up by saying 'right on!', but the kids echo this too. He calls out to me "say something" and the kids repeat that too. He is beginning to look desperate, so I suggest victory chant, since it is an echo song anyway. He eagerly gestures me to begin, and I start singing:
"Hail Jesus, you're my king". The kids do an almost perfect echo, so I try the next line: "Your life frees me to sing". They repeat that too, and we're off and running. We did the entire song together, with a boisterous but accurate echo.
Meanwhile, the Mozambican leaders on our team are preparing dinner for us. I'm faked out by the exotic setting, and when I see the beige soupy stuff bubbling in the pot I think it is brains or worms. I'm not sure which is worse, but the truth is more prosaic -- they've attempted an American meal for us, of spaghetti mixed with a tuna sauce. It tastes fine, but I can't get over the brain scare!
One of our team scopes out the 'bathroom', a rectangular hole in the ground, surrounded by a bamboo privacy fence. We won't be back in the land of running water for another two days. Most of the women on the team are wearing kapulanas (long wrap-around skirts) over capris. This combination works well for climbing modestly into the truck, but it does not work as well squatting in a latrine. Back at the tents, my tentmate provides a moment of quality entertainment for the village women, who try valiantly not to laugh as her wrap-around-skirt tries to unwrap. Finally they cannot help themselves, and they laugh out loud. They aren't being mean about it, but they clearly have trouble with the concept that a grown woman is not competent at dressing herself. The fact that she has pants underneath and is still fully covered is merely a trivial detail. We have images of this moment being passed along in the oral tradition of the village.
When darkness falls, it is time for the movie! We have come with the Jesus film, in the local language, Makua. Before the movie, we play a DVD of African choirs singing. The crowd grows and grows until there are hundreds, but it is hard to tell how many because the spotlight is broken, and the area is pitch black, with the only light being that reflected from the screen. The people stand for hours. We can't tell if they are absorbed in the story of the film, or if they are merely fascinated by encountering what is probably the first movie most of them have ever seen.
When the movie ends the preaching begins, in Portuguese and Makua. We are asked to point our flashlights on the speaker. Finally we pray for people, making sure to not stray too far into the crowd. I've been careful to stand with others from the team, but I'm suddenly startled by a hand that reaches over my head, grabs me, and rips off my headlamp. I couldn't figure out what had happened at first -- my glasses had been knocked askew and my kerchief dislodged, so I couldn't see and was disoriented. But it was only the flashlight after all. Even though he whacked me on the head I don't think he was really trying to hurt me. But it was scary. My teammates see the guy, but he is too fast to try to do anything about it.
Before bed we take turns using the latrine. This is when I really miss that hands-free flashlight. Finally it is time for bed. The tent is much smaller inside than it looked like from the outside! It's not even long enough for me to lie flat once I've tucked my pack into the foot. But that's ok, I usually sleep scrunched up anyway. The biggest problem is that the ground is harder than you can believe. A nearby rooster crows on all the odd hours: 1am, 3am, 5am, and it's time to start the day. I'm surprised he hasn't been turned into soup by now.
Video of the first bush village.
No comments:
Post a Comment