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