Jingle Bells at Lichingles & New Year’s by Lake Niassa

The challenges at site are in some ways helpful in that they distract us from sodade, from terribly missing our homes, loved ones, family and friends.  What really helped weather the holiday blues, however, was re-establishing new friendships up in Lichinga, or “Lichingles,” as PCV Jamie of Mecanhelas likes to call it (along with coining terms, Jamie also deserves credit for the gorgeous lakeshore pictures in this post).

Here we are, the Moz19ers of Niassa province, all together after about two weeks at site.

Look at our happy faces, having just feasted on hamburgers and French fries and pizza and pastries and other (very American) goodies at a fabulous padaria, or bakery, which, for all y’all Cape Verde Transfers, was not only reminiscent of the “PãoQuente” franchise on my island of Santiago; it was also of better quality, believe it or not.  Over the course of five days, we made and ate roasted chicken and mashed potatoes and green beans and pad-thai (thanks, Jade!) and decadent chocolate cake (thanks, Ella!) and quiche-à-la-Victor (a joint effort).

We rocked the city of Lichingles, passearing (taking walks) around town, checking out the central park where there’s a crashed plane, hiking to the city’s barragem (reservoir) and witnessing a procession of girls in preparation for a ritual called “uniago.”

We had plenty of sunny days, but even the rains didn’t stop us.  One day we even saw double rainbows, one of which was a full arch spanning across Lichinga.

We would take late night walks back to PCV Laura’s house accompanied by the “Victorious Mexican Nomad” who bundled up with fuzzy blankets, and by Russian Classical music (courtesy of PCV Grisby, with his portable stereo system clipped to his belt).  We arrived on the first night at Laura’s to discover four newborn kittens, nothing but wet, clumps of fur.  Gross.  Here they are a week later:

The day after Christmas we met some cool and/or colorful locals on our barraca crawl, which we finished off with a game of billiards.  
For the record, it’s Cuamba 1, Nomba 0.  Cuambaninhos whooped ass. 

Though I never went clubing at the “Hot Chilling Club,” it was great just to chill with colleagues, exchange fofoca (gossip) and play chess with the Nomba and Macaloge boys (I want a re-match, Matt!).  The “Lost City of Lichinga,” situated in the mountains, is its own, separate world with its Australian missionaries, “Ladies Nite,” paved roads, cold, wet weather, and variety of stores.  Our holiday was no white Christmas, but it was tons of fun.

I confess though, that through it all, despite enjoying my time with friends, I couldn’t help but think of friends in other parts of Mozambique, in Cape Verde, and of family in the states.  I couldn’t help but think of Cape Verde, especially when we reached Lake Niassa to ring in the New Year.

The lake, with its clear, calm water, and perfect temperature, was nothing like KebraKanela beach (or “break shin beach” in English) at my site in Cape Verde.  And the close of 2012 at Lake Niassa was certainly nothing like the end of 2011 for me, which was absolutely hellish.  For New Year’s Eve 2011 we hiked Fogo volcano where I got so miserably cold and sick.  This New Year’s Eve 2012 on the other hand, was relaxed and beachy and warm.  I wouldn’t go so far as to say it was paradise—it wasn’t.  Chwanga, the village we stayed in, had little food in its mercado (luckily there were restaurants, and we could boleia to the nearby, bigger town of Metangula).  I really enjoyed my time at the lake, but like any New Year’s Eve, the moment forces you to look back at the past year.

The future isn’t very clear, and the past may only be a little clearer.  This time last year, for example, PC Cape Verde shutting down was invisible to all of us volunteers.  At the time I knew I was just trying to recover from Fogo while I managed my teaching load. 

We plan ahead, and will keep on planning, but I feel like over the years (and you know I’ve got plenty of those under my belt), I’ve been sitting on the back of an open-bed chapa (a truck)—I can’t quite see where I’m going, but I see where I’ve been.  Time moves forward, we’re not driving, but we’re just along for the ride.  Or, if that metaphor doesn’t work for you, or you simply have never been on an open-bed chapa before, then maybe the Janus experience of New Year’s Eve is more like watching sunsets. There’s a wonder, even a sweetness to it that’s tinged with loneliness as the light fades.  It’s as if you can see moments of your life, and the important people filling up those moments, moving out of reach.  We plan and change and stay the same, but after all the fireworks, in the silence and in the darkness, it is the past that we must reckon with. . .

Okay.  Not sure where that last bit came from.  Lake Niassa, maybe.  Or from The Little Prince.  In any case, if any of you ever visit, I will have to tag along.  It truly is a must-see spot.  We stayed a couple of days, so you can bet it wasn’t all pensive reflection.  Actually, some days it was downright wacky, with cows on the beach and majestic cloud formations. 

Here is the first sunset of 2013 in Chwanga by Lake Niassa:

The light so saturated the place in pinks, blues and oranges that everything and everyone looked cartoonish.

Check us out again after four months during “Reconnect” or In-Service Training.  We’ll all be badasses by then for sure.  If we aren’t already.