Quelimane's for suckas!

We're out of here! Amy and I are leaving tomorrow to spend a glorious week in Cape Town, South Africa. We have lofty goals and aspirations for the week that may include:
1. climbing Table Mountain
2. wine tour....i sense a hint of currant berries and juniper, underscored with the essence of nutmeg. yes muffy, it was a good year.
3. cage diving with great whites...maybe...well, probably not since i am claustrophobic and fear all salt water creatures
4. penguins!
5. real coffee that comes in cups as big as my head
6. hotdogs. well, i don't actually know if Cape Town has any hotdog vendors, but i'd give my left arm for a Chicago Dog right about now...with extra tomatoes. hey, a girl can dream.

80 nets, 3 estrangeiras, and 1 baby Bushie

We did it! Yesterday, Amy, Sara, and I went to Namacurra for the Christmas program for moms and babies from CCR clinic (high risk children). All the moms are HIV+, and some of their babies as well. Sara and a nurse from Namacurra organized a program to teach the moms about nutrition, sanitation, and malaria. At the end of the program, we talked about the importance of using mosquito nets to prevent malaria, especially in young children who have HIV. You should have seen their faces when Sara told them they were all getting a mosquito net! It was amazing! Then Amy did a demonstration on how to use the mosquito nets. We ended up giving out over 80 mosquito nets (we still have many more to give). And get this...we were checking the health cards and weight of each baby as they received their nets, and low and behold, a woman arrived with twins who didn't have names. She chose a name for one of the boys but couldn't think of a name for the other. So Sara goes, "how do you feel about Bushie?" The woman laughed and smiled...so in the little village of Namacurra, there is now a baby boy by the name of Bushie. HA! I'm not even joking! The rain held off for most of the day, but as soon as we finished handing them out, the sky opened up. I think that was Bushie's way of saying "you're welcome." :-)

Christmas Miracle

I'm ACTUALLY going to start my project this week! After procuring approximately 37 letters of approval from various government officials in Mozambique, I'm collecting my first pieces of data on Tuesday.

bric-a-brac

I got a hand-written letter from Hannah. Not only was it written in blue pen on lined paper that had been ripped out of one of her poli sci notebooks, it was written in old timey English, circa 1860. My dearest sister, your letter could not have reached me a moment sooner. The rains have commenced on the dark continent, and I long for home. Please tell mother and father I send my love, and God willing, I will return to Haverhill Manor in four and twenty fortnights.

Amy got a care package today filled with jcrew shorts, a new package of Hanes wife beaters, and double stuff Oreos. And that pretty much sums up Amy in a nutshell.

Today I'm doing interviews to find a research assistant. Requirements: can speak Portuguese and Chuabo; proficient with Microsoft Word; will agree to cook me mucapata and matapa at once a week.

Amy and I bought plane tickets to go to Cape Town, South Africa after Christmas. First of all, the flight from Quelimane to Maputo on LAM (Mozambique's airline) is more expensive than flying from Maputo to Cape Town on South African Airlines. Not only that, Amy's ticket was more expensive than mine because she's 26 and therefore an adult, but I'm only 25 and considered a child. Bem vindo a Moçambique!

Bushie's mosquito nets have been sitting in a box here at the Quelimane office for months now. And they will continue to sit here until at least January because this place runs about 10 times less efficiently than the federal government. I've been given every excuse as to why we have to wait to give them to the people who need them. I'm really thinking about changing the scope of my research to, "foreign aid: a glimpse of how your hard-earned tax dollars are being wasted."

The peanut butter truck has not arrived in Quelimane. But the coke truck has, bringing both Coke Lite AND Coke Zero. So I've got that going for me...which is nice.

Chuva!

The rainy season is upon us here in Quelimane. Friday the 5th was probably the hottest day we've had. I worked up at sweat just brushing my teeth. The situation was made worse by our tin roof that turns our house into an oven. By late afternoon, gigantic cumulus clouds began growing in the sky, and by 4pm we could hear the rumble of thunder. We had a little sprinkle that night, but the real rain didn't happen until Saturday morning. We had a 20 minute downpour that left the streets flooded almost up to our knees. As I was sitting in my room enjoying the sound of rain on the roof, I heard, "Oh crap!" and looked up to see Amy sprinting down the hallway and returning 2 seconds later with our largest pan. We quickly realized that the pan could not catch all the rain that was leaking through the sealing, so we grabbed Amy's stuff and moved her into the living room.

We also decided on Saturday night that we have the rockin'est dependencia in all of Quelimane. Between the flashing Christmas lights, paper snowflakes, and perpetually playing carols, we're pretty much a beacon of holiday cheer.

Bells will be ringing...

a quick list of the highlights over the past couple weeks:

1. My big fat Mozambican wedding--it rocked! At one point, I was sitting in the Furuma family Land Rover with 10 other people (they have a big family), with a cake sitting on my lap. Dono Francisco was driving and Dona Lourdes was shotgun. And the entire way to the reception the two of them fought about how Francisco doesn't like Lourdes' cousin and thinks he's obnoxious and hates going to her family gatherings. And she was yelling at him to be nice to her cousin and the in-laws. It was hilarious! Some things are truly universal.

2. Thanksgiving--peace corps Megan came into town with a couple chickens...kill it and grill it! Not quite the same as turkey, but close. Amy whipped up some mac'n'cheese and I baked a couple apple pies using Troy's oven. Plus we had a mashed tuber of some sort (wasn't a potato, sweet potato or mandioca. still a mystery what it actually was). The only thing that was missing was falling asleep in front of the tv while watching football.

3. Amy and I are Christmasifying our house. We cut out a bunch of paper snowflakes and bought a couple strands of lights from our local Chinese reject import store. Not only are they blinking multicolored lights, but they also play Christmas carols when plugged in. Sidenote: everything in Quelimane is the stuff that either wouldn't sell in China, or that they couldn't export to countries like the US because the products contain things like lead and mercury. So everything we buy promptly breaks or is probably giving us heavy metal poisoning.

4. December 1st--World AIDS Day. Went to Namacurra and Macusi to see their celebrations. Parades, singing, theater pieces, and soccer games.

5. Tomorrow heading to Malawi for our monthly rendezvous with the border patrol. Like always, if I appear to have dropped of the face of the earth, I'm most likely in a Mozambican jail. Call the embassy.

6. Lastly, but certainly not least, my little Hannah got into law school. I'm so proud of her!!! But if she becomes an ambulance chaser, I'll never speak to her again. Love you Hanchy! Sisters for life!

Doing the Happy Dance

The Great Depression of 2008 has ended here in Quelimane! With the arrival of Carolyn, the anthropologist working with FGH in Nashville, came the arrival of my new debit card. This last month has been what I consider to be a character-building experience. I'd like to take a moment to thank those who have helped me avoid insanity and malnourishment:

1. My lovely mom--She has been my advocate and has spent many hours on the phone harassing the bank people on my behalf. Not only that, but she has listened to my frustration-induced rants. Without her hard work, I'd still be moneyless.
2. The Bank of Amy--my sugarmama and source of no interest loans.
3. God--for making rice so cheap and filling.
4. The district of Nicoadala--the pineapple capital of the world. Thank you for selling delicious pineapples for less than a dollar a piece.
5. FGH--for having a week long training session for new employees here at the office and every day allowing me to eat the leftovers from lunch.
6. The Furuma Family--our Moçambican family who reminds us of the Cosby's. Thank you for charging us cheap rent and for giving us delicious ata fruit from your tree. And thank you for inviting us to your family wedding this weekend. (For real, we're going to our first Moçambican wedding on Saturday! We got a formal invite last night.)

Lost in Translation

Last Sunday I made a reverse house call to Troy, the pediatric infectious disease doctor who runs FGH here. Chivalry apparently being dead (kidding Troy! thanks for your help!), Amy and I hobbled over to his house so I could take a rapid malaria test. Sitting at his kitchen table while Troy pricked my finger to get a couple drops of blood for the test, he asked me the usual battery of doctor's questions. Each time I got to answer "no," Amy and I would high-five and add whatever it was to the list of things that were functioning well in my body: kidneys were working (bonus), heart was tickin', and my brain appeared to be working until:
Troy: Have you been drinking?
Me, without hesitation: No, but this morning I felt like I had a bit of a hangover.
Troy: No, you moron! Water. Have you been drinking water?!

Ata? Isso!

In a move so bold it would have made Martha Stewart's head spin, I have MacGyvered the ultimate Mozambican frozen desert: frozen ata custard. Between our house and the main house, there resides a little fruit tree that produces the delicious and perplexing ata fruit. You know Ernest Scared Stupid? (sidenote for Hannah: there aint no trees in Botswana. I know! I am a Botswanian lumberjack, and I aint never had a job.) The pods that the trolls grow in that hang from the trees? Ata looks like that, only spikey. Kind of like a big green spikey pear that is as big as my head. And you peel it like an orange to reveal a mooshy, stringy white pulp that tastes exactly like a green apple Air Head. So I mooshed a couple ata in a bowl, added a can of sweetened condensed milk, which ensured the recipe's success, and some creme. Then just mixed it up and threw it in the freezer and presto! You've got frozen ata fruit custard!

Malawi-wowwi

Just thought I'd add some lovely pictures from our recent excursion to Malawi. Crossing the border from Milange (Mozambique) to Mulange (Malawi) is like going from Tijuana to the US. You can just feel the GDP rising. And all of a sudden, you're driving on perfectly paved roads that weave through fragrant fields of tea next to breathtaking mountains. And then we got to Blantrye, which is like a cross between Harlem and the financial district of NYC. There appeared to be a middle class and Amy and I felt comfortable walking around without fear of being mugged or shot. It was liberating!

Malawi is a former British colony, so the official language is English. Some of the more amusingly named businesses include:
1. Hip Hop Barber Shop
2. Chris's Shop...Probably the Best Place
3. Skyway Boozing Den
4. G-Unit Club

I LOVE CAPITALISM

There's a group of about 10 people from Vanderbilt here this week. Trying to start a new project/collaboration within FGH that involves the business school, divinity school, anthropology department, and microloans and economic development. We met with them this morning, and I can't wipe the grin off my face. I'm not quite sure how to express what I'm feeling right now about capitalism and all the good that comes with empowering people to run their own lives and have the freedom to succeed. Not the guarantee, but the possibility. That little shred of hope and optimism. I'm seriously at a loss as to how I can express my current state of elation. Maybe I'll write a poem...or do an interpretive dance...or make up a song on my harmonica.

Work your magic

Saturday I went to Inhassunge for a meeting with about 20 curanderos, the term for witchdoctors, or if you want to be p.c. "traditional healers." I totally expected a group of pierced and tattooed individuals to emerge from the fields of palm trees and mandioca and arrive at the clinic wearing traditional dress and carrying eye of newt and chicken bones. Instead, about 10 men and 10 women showed up wearing t-shirts, blue jeans, and dresses. Turns out the curanderos in Mozambique have their own formal organization and governing body, sort of like the AMA. They also have a couple branches of practice: one group focuses on praying and casting out evil spirits, the other group works with herbs and remedies. Kind of like their version of medicine and surgery.

We set up shop under a tin roof, and the meeting commenced in the usual Mozambican fashion...everyone stands up and introduces themselves, we do a little chanting and clapping, and then someone starts singing and the whole place turns into a dance party for about 5 minutes.

The point of the meeting was to discuss HIV and TB with the curanderos in the hope of forming some sort of alliance with regards to patient care. So, when people get sick here, they go see the curandero, not the doctor or nurse at the clinic. As a result, people tend to resort to western medicine only when they are deathly ill, and many cases of HIV and TB go undiagnosed until it is too late. So we discussed what causes these two diseases, how they are transmitted, what the symptoms are, and what we do to treat them. Then we asked them that if they see a person with symptoms X, Y, and Z, they need to send the person to see us.

One of the most interesting parts was when the curanderos described what they believe about these diseases. Examples:
--When someone in a household dies, the curandero goes to the house to perform some sort of rituals. If someone in the house takes one of the possessions of the deceased person before the rituals are performed, that person will get TB.
--When someone in a household dies, the members of the household or family have to wait one week before having sex. If they don't, then they'll get TB.
--HIV can be transmitted by bad spirits.
--HIV is a curable disease.

Another interesting thing: we had bottles of pop at lunch. And before the curanderos drank it, they poured a drop out on the ground "for the spirits." It reminded me of pouring a little out for our fallen comrades.

When the meeting ended, we packed in the truck and headed down the bumpy dirt road for an hour, en route to the dock. 2 in the front, 4 in the back, and about 12 in the truck bed...singing, clapping, and chanting of course. The driver stopped the truck next to a field of mandioca. I looked outside and saw a couple of the twiggly trunks rocking back and forth. Then all of a sudden I saw a little furry face pop up from the side of the road and look at us. It was a monkey! The whole field was filled with little wild monkeys! This was a real rarity, since most animals in Mozambique were killed during the civil war.

The Great Depression

There are many things about my childhood for which I am eternally grateful. One being that I was raised by parents who were brought up with a Great Depression Era mentality, which was then passed on to me. Now, years of training on how to live frugally are paying off. Since Amy and I have only a small amount of money to live off for who knows how long, we made a list of needs/not needs/rations. As we constructed this list, Amy's face began to melt and I think she may have even shed a single tear. Turns out, Amy has expensive tastes and was not raised in a household that had a bomb shelter-esque room in the basement filled with non-perishables that were bought in bulk once a year when Meijer had their huge sale.

Needs: rice, beans (dried...canned is too expensive), coconuts, bread

Not Needs: restaurants, cheese, milk, chocolate, peanut butter, nutella, instant coffee, and frivolous shopping

Rations: jelly, butter, beer, diet coke

...the adventure continues

This is what I get for reading smutty magazines

I can recall making one purchase while at Heathrow, and that was a hot off the press HELLO! magazine—England’s version of People or In Touch. Hey, I had a long flight ahead of me, and it was the Angelina Jolie baby issue. Stop judging. If you didn’t buy the magazine, you at least perused it while standing in line at the grocery checkout. Well, that little guilty pleasure has come around to bite me. Somehow, someone in England got access to my bank account and tried to drain me of my loan money this weekend. I knew that guy at the magazine kiosk looked shady! The upshot: the crapweasel tried to steel from me, but the bank saw the shifty transactions and immediately closed my account. The bad news: I have about $4 to my name and no way to get money.

But every cloud has a silver lining. Amy and I have a few assets: a house that currently has no electricity, 4 cans of warming beer, rice, a couple coconuts, and a pint of gin. We also have a pair of harmonicas and probably 50 books. And the sky is really pretty today, so that’s a bonus.

Update on Bushie's Mosquito Nets

400 insecticide-impregnated mosquito nets have been purchased and are en-route to Quelimane!!!

Lugela...my love

Let me begin by saying that I’m writing this from the confines of my room in Lugela, which consists of a bed, a mosquito net, and a lantern on a small end table. Yep, pretty much heaven. Amy and I are staying in a thatched hut tonight. We have two bedrooms, a small living room, and an outdoor bathroom. Mud walls, straw roof, a single light bulb that runs off of a generator, and two candles for when the generator não e funcionada. And the generator is turned off, so I’m typing by lantern light.

The conversation through the paper thin wall between our rooms in our thatched hut:
Amy: 10 bucks says you got malaria last night.
me: yeah, my caffeine withdrawal headache this morning was probably my malaria prodrome.
Amy: I hope you die a slow death
me: I hope the scabies burrow out of your skin tonight
Amy: I love you
me: I love you too. Goodnight

So, we made it out of Mocuba without any further incident. We packed the truck with workers heading to Lugela, and we were off. It was actually a rainy and slightly chilly day. About an hour into our trip, we drove down a dirt road with thatched huts on either side. Welcome to Lugela! No phones. No electricity. No running water. It was beautiful! Rolling hills with a misty, rainy fog. Chickens, goats and ducks a-plenty.

They dropped us off at the training session we were to attend. Basically, there is a group of HIV+ people in Lugela who are in the process of creating a formal organization of people living with HIV, with the purpose of implementing HIV education programs, promoting prevention, and assisting orphans and widows who have lost family members to HIV/AIDS. Amy and I basically observed and networked with people.

After the meeting we headed to our residence for the night. It’s beautiful! And tonight was the first time since arriving here that my body has felt warm water. The outdoor bathroom came equipped with a double bucket bath…one bucket with cold water, the other steaming hot. So I grabbed my towel, lit a candle, and walked around back to our little tiki hut-esque bathroom. It was glorious! The night was silent except for the pleasant chirping of crickets. The air was chilly. The water was warm. And when I returned, there was a plate of chicken, rice, and shima (flour boiled in water) on our table. I could get used to this.

The Incredible Hulk

First night in the districts. Amy and I got settled in at our little pensão in Mocuba. For the first time in who knows how long, we had our own rooms. When we first arrived in Quelimane, we shared a bed at Michelle’s. Then we shared a bed at Mónica’s. For a brief time we had our own rooms at our dependencia, but since we’ve been house sitting, we’ve gone back to sharing a bed. And sharing a bed is not without problems, mostly involving Amy accusing me of steeling the covers, touching her with my toes, and infringing on her personal space. No joke, it’s like the episode of Brady Bunch where they draw a line down the middle of the room because they can’t share. Amy’s totally the line drawer.

I think we were both looking forward to having our own bed to sprawl out on tonight. So we got settled in our rooms, worked on our presentation for a while, and then decided to grab some dindin at the little restaurant attached to the pensão. After dinner we went back to Amy’s room to get a bit more work done…and that’s when the fun began. She couldn’t open her door. This is nothing new for Amy. She perpetually has problems unlocking and opening doors. So naturally, I told her to step aside and let the professional have a go at it.

“You’ve just got to put your shoulder into it,” I told her, as I put all my weight into that door. And much to our surprise, I had opened it….and ripped the door off the wall. The deadbolt was still in the bolted position, and I managed to rip a large chunk of wood off the wall which contained the hole thingy where the door latches shut. We stood there in silent disbelief for a moment. Then I began hysterically laughing, partially because I thought that if I laughed, I’d have less of a chance of getting a knuckle sandwich from Amy. Luckily, she found it equally hilarious and I still have all my teeth.

What can I say? Sometimes I underestimate my own strength. Well, I call it strength. Amy calls it being stubborn. Maybe I’m a little of that too.

So here we are now, sitting Indian style on my bed, eating coconut flavored cookies and listening to “trouble” by Ray Lamontagne, and working on our presentation that we need to give this Friday.

There goes our night of sprawling out in our own beds.

Sink or Swim

Today, Amy and I went to the clinic in Inhassunge for the first time. We hopped a boat across the Rio de Bons Sinais and landed at Aquapesca, the camarão (shrimp) farm across the way. From there, a truck drove us down a dirt road for about an hour. We passed through fields of mandioca, coconuts and little huts with thatched roofs, and finally arrived at the clinic. It was quite a sight. A compound of buildings with people lined up all around, waiting to be seen by either Mónica (the doctora), the nurses, the pharmacists, or technicos de medicina (medical technicians).

We walked through the crowd to quickly take a look at the urgent consults. The first patient we saw was a newborn with an imperforate anus. So this little man was born perfectly fine, except that his digestive tract failed to make a little hole at the end so he can poo. Mónica informed his mom that they'd need to come with us to Quelimane at the end of the day so a surgeon could fix him. Next, we saw a little boy, probably about 8 years old, who had a condyloma. While walking through the courtyard to set up shop in Mónica's office, a man approached us to say hello and wish us a good day. Mónica knew him very well. She later informed us that both he and his wife are HIV+, although his disease is more advanced, requiring him to take anti-retrovirals. His wife's condition is not as bad right now, so she hasn't been started on meds. The problem that Mónica is having with him is that he doesn't understand why he has medicine and his wife doesn't. So he's been giving his medication to his wife...which is making his condition worse.

Throughout the day, we saw about 12 HIV+ patients, 4 of them having run of the mill TB to boot. But another 3 had MDR TB (multi-drug resistant tuberculosis). We had a really sad situation with a 15 year old girl who came in with her mom and was just diagnosed with HIV (her reason for seeking medical attention was that her skin was itchy and bumpy). She weighed 80lbs, was jaundiced, and had sex twice last year--the only time in her life. As of today, she has HIV, TB, and potentially hepatitis. We saw another man who was diagnosed with Kaposi's Sarcoma at another health center, although it looked more like osteomyelitis. We also saw a little baby who had a bad reaction to Niverapine (an anti-retroviral)...his face is covered with a bumpy rash. Watching Mónica interact with patients is a thing of beauty and deserves to be the topic of another story.

During a short break, Amy and I toured the facilities. We walked through the pediatric ward which consisted of 8 beds. We met one girl who I thought looked to be about 8 years old. Turns out she's 18. Amy and I then chatted with an older woman who was holding an extremely malnourished boy who we thought was about 6 months old. He is actually 3 years old. Eye opening to say the least.

There is also a pulmonary ward with half a dozen beds, a general medicine ward, a maternity area, and a men's health area. There's a building for HIV counseling, an area for the pharmacy, and a building off to the side that functions as the morgue.

Towards the end of the day, a man popped in to Mónica's office and gave us coconuts with the tops chopped off, so we could drink the water.--sidenote: unripe coconuts have a thin layer of soft meat and are chalk-full of water. ripe coconuts have the thick, drier meat with less liquid.

At the end of the day we packed into the truck and headed back to the dock. Mónica, the driver, the woman with her newborn, and two other women sat inside the truck. Amy and I piled into the flatbed with 7 other people. Mind you, the flatbed on the FGH trucks are about half the size of what you get with the Silverado. So Amy and I made new friends as we bounced down the road. Just your average day in Inhassunge I suppose.

The monkey on my back

So, Amy and I have wanted for nothing since arriving in Quelimane. In fact, we've probably put on a kilo or two. But every so often there is a diet coke shortage. There is a regular coke factory in Maputo, so bottles of regular pop are always available. But "coke light," as they call it here, is imported...and a hot commodity. There has been a coke light shortage for the past 2 weeks. At first I drank spar-berry pop. But spar-berry pop is something that needs to be consumed in moderation. A little too sugary to be my go-to drink. This evening, Amy and I discovered that the coke light truck has arrived in our little town, so naturally we celebrated the only way we know how: bought a crapton of diet coke and drank it like we were chain-smoking cigarettes. I imagine the empregado at Ty's house will arrive tomorrow morning to find us passed out on the floor in an aspartame-induced coma, surrounded by empty cans.

Shock Value

I think cavemen knew what they were doing when they grilled their food over a camp fire...they had fire back then, right? Anyway, Amy and I purchased a double burner hot plate 3 days ago. In the world of kitchens, this is the equivalent of a double-wide trailer. It's no penthouse, but it's real nice! We brought it home, I plugged it in, and it worked. Perfect. So the next day I went to boil a pot of water to pour into our water filter. This was a momentous occasion. Not only was I trying out the new hot plate, but I was also using our new pot and water filter.

First, as the pan heated up, it began shaking and vibrating like an earthquake. Then I noticed water leaking out of the side of the pan at the point where the screw attaches the handle. No problem...I just won't use the top 2 inches of the pan. But then I decided that it would be a good idea to touch the base of the hot plate, just to make sure it didn't get dangerously hot and would be safe to have little kids (or Amy) be around it. Upon carefully placing the tips of my fingers on the side of the frame, something shocking happened. I completed the circuit. A sizable amount of electricity surged up my arm. And if that wasn't wretched enough, the crummy thing stopped working about 2 minutes later! It's broken! Our brand new double wide!

I've decided that it's probably best to opt for a grelha e carvão (grill and charcoal). After all, I was the grill-master at 1011 State Street.

Amy + webcam = a dangerous combination

Let me paint this picture for you...Amy and I are house sitting for one of the FGH workers for the next 2 weeks. She has internet. Last night, as I sat in bed reading, I heard a peculiar noise coming from the room with internet. Amy was belting out "circle of life," from Lion King. Then I hear her screaming, "Can you hear me? I can see you! Can you see me? Flip me the bird if you can hear me. Do I look like a crypt, wearing this blue bandanna?" Yep, she got her webcam to work on skype and was chatting with her dad and sister. Next thing I know, she has moved the camera back and has cleared a space to make room to demonstrate her African dance moves for her family. She asked me to join in...which resulted in me nearly getting kneed in the face.

Work update: We are done with Portuguese class and starting our projects. Had a long day of meetings on Friday concerning our protocols, worked for a bit this weekend, and are continuing to get things straightened out with the ethics committee and whatnot this week. At a meeting this morning, I found out that Gonhane, the secondary clinic near Inhassunge (which just opened three weeks ago), has 120 new positives...about 90% of which involve people with CD4 counts less than 50. After being diagnosed, approximately 22% of these people didn't return to the clinic to receive their medication.

African Tooth Fairy

Best thing I’ve heard in a while came from Amarra, the 6 year old daughter of Stacy, the nurse practitioner who runs the clinic in Namacurra. Amarra just lost one of her front teeth. Sitting next to her at dinner, I asked her if the tooth fairy had ever visited her. She states very matter-of-factly, “yes, but last time it took 3 days for the tooth fairy to take my tooth, because her wings kept getting caught in my mosquito net. So I had to put my tooth on a table.”

Also, I need to post a clarification of the previous posting about the bug in my room. A certain someone in Djibouti has brought to my attention that it was more than a brief girlish shriek that I made when i saw the demon bug. He called me a liar and insists that I post a clarification of this statement. So, here it goes...I didn't briefly scream. I may have screamed and hyperventilated for 5-10 minutes. There! You happy?!

Snail Mail

Amy and I have had a few requests for mailing information. The mail isn't exactly "reliable" so the best thing to do if sending mail to us, is to send it to the FGH office in Maputo. Then they'll carry it up here when someone is traveling from Maputo to Quelimane. Also, don't mail anything of value, like electronics or pieces of pretty jewelry that you're dieing to give to us.

FGH
Avenida Maguiguana N32
Maputo, Mozambique
CP604

The Green Hills of Africa

What an inspiring day! Yesterday we woke up at the butt-crack of dawn and headed to the border of Mozambique and Malawi to renew our VISAs. First of all, the sunrise here is just as awe-inspiring as the sunset. Secondly, Hemingway wasn't joking when he wrote, "The Green Hills of Africa." It was amazing. The terrain changed from the palm tree-clad city of Quelimane, to fields of mandioca, papaya, and pineapples. Then came the rolling hills and the brisk weather of the western plateau, around the Alto Molocue area. Blue skies, red dirt road, chickens, people on bikes and working in the fields, thatched huts, and an excellent music selection that I was jamming to.

If ever driving through the green hills of Africa, here are my suggestions for the perfect music mix:
1. Into the mystic--Van Morrison
2. The boy in the bubble--Paul Simon
3. Catch the wind--Donovan
4. You're gonna make me lonesome when you go--Dylan
5. Nothing but flowers--Talking Heads

On another more clinical note, Inhassunge (the clinic where Amy and I are going to do the majority of our projects) had 2 cases of leprosy last week. And also, we've learned a bit about ritual scarification, which is an interesting cultural practice in this area of Mozambique, especially Inhassunge. Sort of like tattooing, but the women are the only ones who have it done as a coming of age ritual, and it is often done with unclean instruments and can be a vector for transmitting HIV. More to come on that later...

Bugs and Birds

Last night, as I was preparing for bed in my dark room (trying to curtail energy costs and make Al Gore proud), I saw a dark shadow move across the wall...about the size of my hand, fingers included. It wasn't moving like a lizard, so I flipped on the light to see what it was. It was either some form of beetle or cockroach. After the initial shock and a brief girlish scream, it met its maker.

At 5:30am, I awoke to the sound of someone raking or sweeping outside my back window. When I realized that I couldn't fall back asleep, I got up and looked out back to see a dozen chickens grazing outside my window. They belong to the people who live behind us. Oh, Africa...

Tomorrow Amy and I are leaving bright and early to venture to the Malawi border with one of FGH's drivers. We need to renew our VISAs, and apparently you have to travel to the border to do so. We're pretty pumped to see the country by car, and will most likely have to spend tomorrow night in Malawi. If you don't hear from either of us in 3-4 days, it's safe to assume we've been deported.

our house is a very very very fine house

Although I’m beginning to get used to the concept of sharing my home with giant wall-crawling lizards, I still can’t help but let out a shriek whenever I turn a corner and see one of those unholy beasts scurry across the room. Like spiders, they are good in theory because they eat bugs. Unlike spiders, they can be the size of a small cat. The air conditioner lodged in my wall provides the perfect conduit for these little creatures to venture in from the great outdoors. (yeah, our new house has a couple a/c boxes. fancy shmancy!) But one creature that is not welcome in our new home are those nasty little hopping spiders. 3 of them met their maker today. Hopefully the 4th escaped and will tell his friends to set up shop in someone else’s home.

The overhead light in the bathroom is slightly dysfunctional. It flickers on and off in a strobe light type fashion, and I’m a little concerned about having a seizure whilst brushing my teeth, so we’ve opted not to use it. Consequently, Amy looked like she was going spelunking while she got ready for bed. She walked into my room brushing her teeth and wearing a headlamp—picture to be posted soon.

We’ve managed to borrow two mattresses from people at FGH, and we have them on the ground, lying on top of straw mats. I just need to get a couple bamboo poles to fashion a frame that I can use to drape my mosquito net over my bed. Africa has done wonders for my creativity! After 3 stifling years of med school, I’m reconnecting with my childhood skills of fort-building; turning empty rolls of t.p. and wrapping paper into swords, telescopes, and fishing poles; smooshing the chairs together in the living room to play “boat” (Remember that Hannah? We always made Elliott be the fish). I’m fairly certain that I can turn coconut shells into lamp shades. And we’ve already got a couple capulannas for curtains. I’ve devised a method for washing our clothes in a giant bucket. And after a long day, when I come home all hot and dirty, there’s nothing better than a cold shower! (no hot water) What else could a girl want?!

Amy and I christened our new place by sitting in our giant hallway/front room (which by the way is perfect for doing cartwheels) eating pizza, drinking red pop, and watching “Little Women” on our computer. Pretty nice way to spend an evening, eh?!

Yesterday was the last day of 3 days of FGH meetings. Our days were packed with listening to people speak about various aspects of the organization and how the clinics are running. All of this, mind you, was in Portuguese. I now have about 10 pages of vocab that I scribbled down furiously during the talks. A recurring theme of the meeting was that Amy and I were labeled as “fearless,” as a result of our lack of inhibition when it comes to speaking Portuguese. Now, let’s be very clear. Not once were we told that we spoke well…we just dazzled people with our ability to embarrass ourselves without caring. I’m giving us an A for effort.

Following the meeting, there was a big party in Dr. Paulo’s backyard (where we have African dance class). There were about 10 people who formed a drum circle and just went to town all night. So we danced around the drum circle under the palm trees and the beautiful African sky, and they played and chanted. It was all very magical and surreal.

Minha Nova Casa esta muito maravilhoso!

My new house is wonderful! Amy and I just went to our little dependencia to get the keys, and we came upon an amazing site. There were 3 men, including the dad of the house (Sr. Francesco), painting the walls and cleaning the floors, and ensuring that everything is functioning. Then they gave us the keys, and invited us to have lunch with them! Best landlords EVER! And to make the deal sweeter, two of the nice folks at FGH are loaning us mattresses. Now, all we have to do is get a little fridge, a hot plate (there is also an outdoor coal-powered grilling bucket of some sort we can use), hang curtains, and we're set! As they say in Mozambique: Óptimo!

GO BLUE!

Twas the night before kickoff of college football season and all through Monica's dependencia, not a person was sleeping, especially me. Ok, I know that doesn't remotely rhyme. As usual, the night before kickoff, I couldn't sleep...just like Christmas Eve. But alas! IT'S GAME DAY! I wanted to fashion a cow bell this morning and play the traditional 1011 State Street Go Blue wake-up song, but I refrained out of respect for sleepy Amy...don't say I never did anything nice for you, Amers!

Today is the last day of our 3 day FGH meeting extravaganza. Tomorrow we're moving into our new home! Portuguese bootcamp is still in full force, although we have to take a day off this week to drive to Malawi in order to renew our VISAs.

Yesterday Monica (the Brazilian doctor at Inhassunge) showed me pictures of some physical findings on her patients. She sees tons of Kaposi's Sarcoma and other HIV-related illnesses. I'm really looking forward to spending time at the clinics.

Singing in the Rain

Life lesson #3: when someone encourages you to sing in the shower, they probably have malevolent intentions. I only realized this about 5 minutes into my vocal escapade, when I noticed that Amy was taping me with her camera. Friends for life.

Phrase of the day:
What I tried to say: I'm going to boil water for coffee.
What I actually said: I'm going to burn down the kitchen.

Batucas and Bats in the Belfry

I finally made it to mass. It's freaky how much the Cathedral in Quelimane looks like Our Lady of the Concrete (St. Francis de Sales), in Muskegon. Picture St. Francis but replace the organ with drums (batucas....although I don't know how it's actually spelled). Then pepper in the occasional squeak from the bats who perch on the high concrete ceiling, and you've got mass in Mozambique! Everything was the same as mass in the USA, except that communion was total chaos. No order or method, just get in line whenever the spirit moves you.

Went to the ATM today to get money to pay rent, but the line was ridiculous. And one thing I've noticed about lines in Africa, is that there are no rules. Everyone cuts. Nobody stands single file. And yet, nobody seems to mind--except me.

The Universality of Elitism

First and foremost, Amy and I have found a place to live!!! We're renting a little dependencia about a block away from the FGH office here in Quelimane. It's very common for houses to have a small living quarters behind their home, which is often occupied by the empregada (maid). It is very clean and secure and wonderful! Two bedrooms, a kitchen, bathroom, living room, and a hallway that faces outside and joins all of the rooms. It costs 6,000 metacais a month, which is about $240 a month...divided by two. AND it includes water. Of course, we don't have hot water. But that's ok! The summer will be starting soon and I'm sure we'll be loving cold showers at that time. It's also very close to the loja de sorvette (ice cream shop) and Catholic church. So I can feed by belly and soul!

Life lesson #2: elitism knows no boundries. Normally, bedtime consists of Amy and I curled up under our mosquito nets, telling bedtime ghost stories or fairy tales. But last night we were laughing so hard, our bellies hurt! We have become the target of American ex-pat hypocritical academic elitism and snobbery. I thought people like this only existed around college campuses and buildings of higher education. But alas, we have discovered that this subset of "glass half empty" people exist in rural Africa as well. Who knew?!

I need to qualify this by saying that the VAST majority of people we've met here have been wonderful and are extremely supportive of our projects. But we've discovered a smattering of Americans who think that our arrival in Mozambique has ushered in the destruction of their little utopia. Yes, two pig-tail and baseball hat wearing girls are treated like the 4 horsemen of the apocalypse.

For example, when we are around these people in large groups, they make sure to let Amy and I know how smart they are. They also ask us unfriendly questions disguised as pleasant conversation like, "so, why exactly are you here?" "do you really think you'll be proficient in the language enough to carry out your research or are you expecting other people to do the work?" "do you really believe you understand the intricacies of the culture and villages in order to be culturally sensitive and effective with your studies?" "what are your thoughts on PEPFAR/president Bush's allocation of funds to a limited range of NGO's as opposed to giving the (insert my thought: semi-corrupt and quasi-unstable) African governments control of the (insert my thought: American tax payer's) money?"

At first, Amy and I attempted to give thoughtful responses, or honest responses like, "I don't know." But that just brought a smirk to their faces and they consequently dismissed us as being unworthy or unfit to be in Moz, doing what we're doing. So, Amy and I have decided the best way to fight elitist bullies is to resort to sarcasm and absurdity. This is why we were laughing till we cried...we came up with an arsenal of responses.

Question: Why exactly are you here?
Answer:
-We heard Mozambique has great beaches!
-Because coconut milk does wonders for my complection.
-I wanted to see which sunblock works best: Hawaiian Tropic, Banana Boat, or Coppertone.

Question: Do you really think you'll be proficient in the language enough to carry out your research or are you expecting other people to do the work?
Answer:
-It only took me 4 days to learn Mandarin, so I'm anticipating that Portuguese is no problem.
-I was Portuguese in a past life.
-I have no intention to bother with another language. Do you think I could hire a translator/pool boy?

Question: what are your thoughts on PEPFAR/president Bush's allocation of funds to a limited range of NGO's as opposed to giving the African governments control of the money?
Answer:
-Is PEPFAR like PETA?
-Is Bush still president? When is the next election anyhow?

August 21, 2008

Happy Quelimane day! Festa! Dia de feria! Yesterday was a holiday in Quelimane, and consequently, the internet decided to take a vacation. This proved to be troublesome because yesterday was the first time my parents and I attempted to skype call each other. I was able to briefly hear my mom and dad’s voices. And with many crackles and broken words, I heard my dad’s first words to me, after waving bye to me as I boarded a plane at O’Hare on August 3rd…“you better watch what you say on that blog!” Ah yes, even from thousands of miles away, my dad is disciplining me. To all my little cousins who are reading this: IT NEVER ENDS. Your parents never stop being your parents and they will attempt to guide you and discipline you throughout your entire life.

That being said, I want to assure everyone in my wonderful family that my little online diary here is for people of all ages, although may contain some questionable content. Although I will attempt to sensor the material to make it suitable for my favorite little cousins, I’m trying to keep it fairly honest and convey what life is like here. In other words, the language will be appropriate and the content will be edited, but might not be suitable for children of all ages. For example, I briefly wrote about going to a hidden bar just outside of the city. It was a VERY eye-opening experience and I attempted to convey a little bit about this without scaring the kiddies. It was culturally interesting on many levels, and I thought I did a decent job at making it appropriate, but according to Snuffy, I missed the mark. One more thing about blog content: I have a link to Amy’s blog which is NOT edited for content. It’s delightfully entertaining but is not targeted towards the younger crowd. That’s my disclaimer.

Anyway, here’s what Amy and I have been up to: We spend our days studying Portuguese and harassing the Vanderbilt IRB and Mozambican Ministry of Health. We’ve been meeting with people about our projects and are hoping to have it finalized soon. Troy and Mohsin have recruited a Mozambican pharmacy student who is interested in adherence, to work with me on my portion of the project. Meanwhile, Amy and I have intense Portuguese bootcamp with Olivia until the second week of September….after which, we’re on our own. Then we’ll begin piloting our studies, most likely at Inhassunge, a jungle-ish type clinic about an hour south of here.

Amy’s amazing Portuguese phrase of the day:
Me to Amy: Please translate, “Esta rua e muito barulhenta”
Amy: The moon is very shiny. (Esta lua e muito brilhante)
Me: OR, “this road is very loud.”
--I give her an A for effort. Other great phrases of recent days involved us asking for separate checks, which roughly translated into, “We need you have separate bills.” We’re kind of frustrated at the moment.

Last night we attended African dance class, held in the backyard of Dr. Paulo three nights a week. It was just Amy and I plus the two instructors. One teaches the moves while the other plays the drums. They unroll these giant mats and we take off our shoes and dance under the African stars while they play the drums. The class ends up being a cross between traditional African dancing and yoga. I look completely ridiculous because I have two left feet and am about as flexible as a chunk of steel. Despite these obvious shortcomings, we enjoyed ourselves immensely!

Lesson of the day: wash your undies on a daily basis. This was made apparent to me today by Regina, the lovely empregada who works here at Michele’s house (where we are currently staying). Yesterday I washed two weeks worth of undies and hung them up on the line to dry. Regina kindly pointed out to me that it’s not becoming of a lady to hang up 14 pairs of panties, and that it is much better to wash your undies at the end of the day and then hang them up one at a time, in an attempt to be discrete. I explained to her that I had always used a washing machine, and what we do in the USA is save up our laundry until the basket is full and we can do a load of clothes. She then said something that roughly translated into, “good luck finding a washing machine in Quelimane.”

On a final note, we met tons-o-peace corps volunteers this week. They flocked to FGH in Quelimane for their quarterly meeting. About 5 or 6 delightful people who are doing interesting projects throughout various districts in Zambézia Province.

Homeless

Our house hunting continues. Yesterday we saw two places. One was a two bedroom apartment near the Cathedral. It was fine except for the fact that it doesn't have running water from 10am-3pm every day. The second place we looked at was a dependencia behind a big two-story white house. It was completely fenced in and quite secure. Running water, but no hot water. No stove, so we'd have to get a hot plate. But it has an amazing front hallway that would be perfect to ride scooters down! We're hoping to move in there but our contact person is out of town for a couple days so we're back in limbo.

Smorgasbord

By Kate
The occurrences of the past couple days in no particular order:

1. On Friday, went to an ex-pat bar on the river. It's a brackish inlet from the Indian Ocean called Rio dos Bons Sinais (the river of good signs). Legend has it, Vasco De Gamma landed at Quelimane right where a big old tree stands now.

2. Which brings me to my second thought: does anyone know how I can post my pictures as a slideshow on this website? What online photo sharing thingy should I use? If any of my technologically-savvy friends has the answer to this, could you be a peach and email me? Thanks!

3. After the ex-pat bar, we went with the FGH crew to a bar called "Savannah." It's on the outskirts of town, tucked away in a village. We pulled up to a gate where two guys asked us to pay cover, as well as asked us who we know inside. We told them we were meeting friends who were already there, and they accepted this as a sufficient answer. Then the gates magically opened to reveal a hidden outdoor Mozambican night club. We got out of the car and Amy summed it up best by saying, "well, it's been nice knowing you." It was interesting to say the least. Mozambican and Angolan dance music. A bathroom that consisted of two rooms...one with what was kind of a toilet but more like a bucket that opened into a hole in the ground...and an adjoining room that was covered in a thin and vomit-provoking layer of human waste. I was a little concerned about cholera, but the doctors we were with informed us that they only see outbreaks of cholera during the rainy season (November-March). So I've got that going for me, which is nice. We survived the evening unscathed.

4. Went to a beach called Zalala--a most enjoyable word to say. Rode in the trunk of Janeen's SUV. It was like riding in an old station wagon backwards. A great way to see the country. It was beautiful! It was like driving through an endless sea of palm trees. The beach was lovely as well. Tons of sea shells, crabs, fishermen bringing in their latest catch, and warm murky water. I think it's technically called the Straits of Madagascar. This is the place where I have the best chance of befriending Somali pirates.

5. Discovered that everything is better with coconut. Coconut ice cream. Coconut rice. Coconut chicken. Also tried a hot salsa they have here called piri-piri. It's dynamite! Went to a backyard BBQ at one of the FGH people's houses and learned how to dissect and eat crabs. OH! And we had a rockin' lunar eclipse!

6. Speaking of lunar eclipse, the stars here are amazing! I could star gaze every night and not get bored! Last night was a full moon. You know when you're watching an old horror movie and werewolves are howling at the moon? Yeah, it was like that. Along with the usual sound of dogs barking and fighting, we heard the freaky howls of what I imagine to be a rabid werewolf.

7. Amy and I are going to look at a house today. It's called a "dependencia," which is a small house behind a big house....sort of like the maid's quarters. We might rent one. 2 bedrooms, one bathroom, $200 a month (5000 metacais). Not bad says I! Maybe we'll even have space to get a couple galinhas (chickens).

8. Got an email from the financial guy at FGH in Nashville. They've received all of Bushie's mosquito net money and are currently transferring it into an account through Vanderbilt's donation department, which will then be wired to an account in Quelimane. Amy and I can't wait! I can't thank you all enough for supporting Bushie's mosquito net project!

Oi! Cara de boi! Ten queijo em sua queixo!

Translation: Hey cow face! You have cheese on your chin!....probably my favorite Portuguese phrase.

sippin on gin and litchi, laid back, with my mind on my metacais and my metacais on my mind

the Mozambican take on gin and juice: gin and litchi juice. Litchi has been one of my great discoveries. It's fantastic! And a little info on the metacais (pronounced meta-k-eye-sh)...I'm trying to wrap my mind around that fact that it's not just monopoly money. 25MT = $1. And it's best to use ATM's here at the beginning of the month, because by the end, they usually run out of money.

The eagle flies at midnight, the rooster crows at 3am

We are in Quelimane! It's a wonderful little tropical town with tons of palm trees, coconuts, marvelous tree-lined streets, fresh fish markets, feral dogs that scrap like its world war III, and a friendly neighborhood rooster who crows every morning at 3am. I know what you're thinking..."maybe the sun rises at 3am." I assure you it doesn't. And this "galo" as they say in Portuguese must be stopped. Amy and I have three options: kill the rooster, relocate the rooster, or feed him melatonin in an attempt to reset his internal clock so he begins crowing at a reasonable hour, like 7am.

I recall an incident that occurred 3 weeks ago, one brisk evening on the beautiful shore of Lake Michigan. A certain John Egan told me to jump in the 57 degree lake stating, "you can look back on this when you're sweating in the jungles of southeast Africa." Well, turns out that it's still winter here, the weather is beautiful (in the 70s), and we don't have hot water. So every night is like jumping into the Big Lake. Had I known this, I would have backed down from Egan's dare.

Our project is coming along nicely! Amy and I are spending our mornings harassing the Vanderbilt IRB and Mozambique Ministry of Health. Our afternoons involve attending Olivia's Portuguese bootcamp. By the end of the day, I feel like I've been flogged with a Portuguese dictionary.

We've met wonderful people including a Brazilian doctor who runs the clinic at Inhassunge, a Spanish doctor who runs the clinic in Gile, and various staff here at FGH. And let me tell you, these people are connected! One of our advisors is BFF with the president of Mozambique. Another guy can pretty much move mountains with a single phone call...we suspect he's either related to Spanish royalty or is in the Spanish mafia. So Amy and I have compiled a list of FANTASTIC emergency contacts! If there is a coup or I'm wrongly imprisoned or I want to wire money into a Swiss bank account under an alias...I'm totally set!

In other news, I'm going to be an uncle! Sarah and Adrian are having a boy!

On the launch pad

We are about to leave for the Maputo airport, on our way to Quelimane. We met Dr. Troy and Dr. Emelio. Found out that Quelimane is the rat capitol of Mozambique. But fear not, Troy assured us that we'll think of rats as squirrels in no time!

Use your words

By: Kate, August 9
The day began with Amy and I getting yelled at on the street. Some guy wanted to get our attention so he yelled, "hey whites!" He then proceeded to chat with us about life as we strolled down the street. Very pleasant guy. He especially enjoyed when I told him to have a bom fin de semana. He reminded us of when Borat was talking to the feminists and said, "hey pussycats, why you no smile for me, eh?"

Walked around town and found the Igreja Catolica (catholic church). Got capolinas (wrappy dresses that I love so much) at "casa elefante." Studied vocab and played a game of trivial pursuit. Decided that when I say, "cabeleireiro," I sound like a car engine that won't start. And when Amy says, "maravilhoso," she sounds like she's choking on marbles.

Profound thought....the sequel

What is instant coffee? How does regular coffee become instant coffee? Does it have the same caffeine content as brewed coffee? I realize these questions are on par with my "what is nougat" question. In a way, instant coffee is my new nougat. Delicious and mysterious.

We got schooled!

By: Kate, August 8
Amy and I were invited by Mohsin to sit in on one of his lectures to the 2nd year med students. It was like being back at Vanderbilt! Before class, a handful of girls pointed and laughed when we walked by them. Amy thought they were making fun of my dress--but when we looked up the word they said, we found out they said, "padlock." Which was a snarky comment about the giant lock on Amy's backpack. Then as we stood in the hallway surrounded by med student clicks, a friendly face approached us and offered us help. "You lost?" he said in broken English. We explained that we know Dr. Sidat and we'll be attending his class. The boy smiled and walked away. What a kind Samaritan, we thought! Our opinion changed a minute later when he started shushing everyone in the hall. Yep, he's the class shusher. One of the brown-nosers. Sits front and center in class and constantly raises his hand.

There was also the front row girl who nods her head all through lecture and engages the professor in one-on-one conversations like there aren't 105 other people in the room. There's the girl who volunteers to write on the board (act as scribe) during discussions. And there's the guy who helps set up the computer and troubleshoots lecture I.T. problems. There was the back row that only half paid attention. There's the girl towards the front who kept turning around and glaring at people.

He introduced us, handed us the microphone and told us to say something...so naturally we stood there beet red, sweating, while the mic made that awful feedback noise.

A friendly guy turned to us and said, "tell me about your childhood." Obviously the future psychiatrist.

And what would a med school class be without the people who take notes on everything that is said or written on the board, like they are recording the only history that will sustain the test of time. A medical papyrus or dead sea scrolls. 6,000 years from now, people will discover the relics of a lecture amphitheater and a handful of rotting pages with the krebs cycle etched into it. They'll probably call our species Anal Retentivites--a descendant of Homo Sapien.

Whether in Nashville or Maputo, med students are exactly the same!

Profound thought of the day...

Instant coffee really isn't that terrible. In fact, it's kind of growing on me. The only thing that freaks me out is powdered creamer. It doesn't dissolve really well in the instant coffee. And I think it might be carcinogenic.

Boa tarde!

By Kate:
After a series of long flights and layovers, we arrived safe and sound in Maputo on Tuesday Morning, August 5th! Air India got us over the pond with a little help from some curry chicken and Indian comedies as our in-flight entertainment. British Airways ushered us down the continent of Africa while we indulged in tea (with cream and sugar...in honor of the Brits), and a couple fantastic movies. "Son of Rambow" was excellent, capped off with "The Big Lebowski."

Our first two Portuguese challenges were a total flop. A woman at the airport in Johannesburg asked us if we could translate between English and Portuguese for her and a customer. We didn't even attempt it. And then two business men traveling to Maputo asked us if we "fala" ...aka do we speak Portuguese. At which point Amy starts yelling "falo! falo!" while I stumbled over a phrase that roughly translated into, "me would like more ice creams." I'm chalking that up to sleep deprivation. But we did manage to navigate from the airport to the hotel, which was a personal victory.

After surviving Tuesday and Wednesday in a complete jet-lagged haze, we're finally being productive today. Had a wonderful meeting this morning with Dr. Mohsin Sidat, who is helping us finalize our proposals and get research approval from the Mozambique Ministry of Health ethics committee. We have a lot of work to do over the next couple days, before heading up to Quelimane.

Oh! And Amy got hexed at an ATM. It was hilarious! Some witchdoctor looking guy came up to her and looked like he was going to make the sign of the cross on her, but kind of mumbled something, made a gesture, and then walked away. It was great!

Bushie's Mosquito Nets

In July, 2008, my grandma Groh (Bushie) passed away at the age of 90. Bushie lived an amazing life, having 3 kids, 18 grandkids, and 22 great grandkids! In her honor, family and friends of Bushie have donated over $2000 for the purchase of mosquito nets. Each net costs $5, and will be distributed by Amy and me at clinics throughout Zambézia Province, Mozambique. Take that, malaria!