Why the hell am I still here in Mozambique?
It’s a question I have been asking myself as of
recently, more and more. I do not love it as much as I should, or as much as I did
the first two years. A lot of it has to do with moving sites, seeing my friends
leave, and all that shit. Living in the big city now means that I am just one
of the masses- another face in the crowd. And because my face is a white one,
and I am a woman, and I am working with an I-NGO sooo many people expect me to
have money. Including my co-workers! When I try and explain that no, I do not
receive a salary – I get eye rolls and the standard tongue-click of disbelief,
and then the numerous questions start to flow, well if you don’t have money,
how did you buy the tea you are drinking? If you don’t have money, how did you
buy the fancy clothes you wear? You may not be receiving a salary now, but when
you go back to your country, you’ll have money waiting for you there, and you’ll
get a salary for your work here, right?
Sigh…
It is very hard to explain my life to people here in
the city. When I tell them about the conditions I lived in before in Quissico,
again, many do not believe me - while others begin a long list of questions
about how I survived in these conditions etc. When I state that I had visitors to
this house, people become shocked and almost dismayed- how could you let people
experience those horrid conditions?? At this point, I generally get fed up, and
want to yell at them ‘I want to go back to that house and life!!’. At least
there, being the foreigner meant that people knew me, and knew my story, and I was
enveloped in a sense of community.
This past week has been somewhat productive work-wise.
I have been eating healthy, doing a mini-workout every night. . but a life
without music, media, or company is a truly boring one. I get up in the
morning, shove a banana or two in my face, put my coffee or tea in my travel
mug, and hop a bike taxi to work. I am at work from 7ish until whenever my day
ends. Sometimes it is over at 3pm, others it’s not over until the fat lady
sings. I don’t have a specific job description yet, because no one is giving me
the goddamn time of day.
I am finding work to do, trying to stay busy. My supervisor
is happy with the progress I have made thus far. . . so I guess that’s a good
thing.
I just think I expected more. More from my coworkers, more of a game plan,
more organization within a work day, more involvement in the planning of things….
Rather than just ‘show up for work and find out whats happening in my life
today’…. Annoying.
I like Quelimane enough… it has all of the necessary
things someone may need. Good fruits and veggies, lots of shops to get whatever
I need for my house etc… but there are still the same frustrations of living in
a third world country. . . people don’t show up on time for appointments, house
repairs on a budget, being dependent on
a third party to get things done, constantly being upcharged in the market for
produce, the stares and cat calls I get just walking down the street (mind you,
I can be in a dirty, three day old t shirt, hair in a bun, glasses on and still
get these, simply because my skin color stands out) etc… the list goes on.
And now that my computer charger has shit the bed, I have
difficulty getting work done in the evenings; I have no way of getting music,
or watching media on a weekend when there really isn’t anything to do, and there
are only so many times I can go walk around the town to pass the time. Especially
in the heat here …. Ugh Quelimane is fucking HOT.
Alright. That’s enough venting from me. It’s the same
shit, just a different day. Tomorrow will be better. Or it won’t be. Either way,
I’m here.
No comments:
Post a Comment