quarta-feira, 30 de abril de 2014

My Life in Chimoio (Manica Province, Mozambique)

Of course, I can only speak from the narrow perspective of my experience.  But since I've lived and worked in three different sites (in two different PC countries), comparing them, reflecting on those past lives from the point of view of the present, would perhaps broaden my perspective.  In any case, it's my life here, short though it may be.  Factual accuracy, I think, isn't so crucial.  Being honest is.

Let me start with my work week: it consists of Tuesdays and Thursdays, with classes in the afternoon to the evening, from 3:30pm to 7:30pm.  I'm supposed to have meetings Monday and Tuesday mornings, but I find myself useless in them, not so much because of the Portuguese, but more because of the ways in which these meetings are conducted.  I'm trying to relinquish my "coordenador" position, as it doesn't fit  with Peace Corps' objectives.  But I'm still negotiating this with our school, as they would prefer to have an unpaid departmental coordinator to save costs.  So my teaching load at the university is light and relatively easy.  Very different from back in the states where I would teach at least four college writing courses in two different colleges.  I was a part-time writing instructor in community colleges, which means driving almost everyday to work, schlepping bags full of students' papers, trying to teach academic/analytical writing.

Here I teach English as a foreign language to first and second year university students.  In addition to the work load being lighter, the challenges seem to be less intense.  I've taught similar EFL courses in Praia, Cape Verde and last year in Cuamba, Niassa.  Though I still create plenty of new materials and lessons (the students don't have or use books), I've amassed a good deal of older materials and lessons which require some tweaking for my current students here, but are still adaptable and pedagogically relevant.

I lucked out, I suppose.  I think many Education PCVs at the secondary schools have heavier teaching-loads, bigger and more classes, fewer resources, and needier students.  My placement at the Catholic University allows me to spend more time on fun secondary projects like Chess club and English club.  Like my first year of service in Cape Verde, my third year here in Chimoio grants me the time and opportunity to hang out with more host country nationals, intelligent Mozambicans open to different people, to different ways of seeing and being.

I think I hardly talked about my life last year in Cuamba, where I worked as a "teacher trainer," helping Mozambicans improve English language instruction in the primary schools.  The thing is, while most Cape Verde Transfers would say that they established meaningful friendships in Cape Verde, and meaningful work as educators here in Mozambique, I could not say the same.  My placement last year in the north was rough.  My students needed a lot more help than I could give them, and the environment or institution in which they received training was not conducive to learning.  I also had a difficult (even impossible, I thought) time integrating within my community, living six kilometers from the city of Cuamba.  I did develop meaningful relationships with my sitemates (PCVs Colin, Rich, Zackaria), however, as we all faced similar challenges.

I'm sure there are a number of rural (Cuamba) versus urban (Chimoio) differences, but it is fascinating to face similar (not identical), though varying degrees of isolation and alienation.  In Cuamba, not a day passed by that I heard ching-chong-mock-Chinese from ignorant kids, mostly, but sometimes adults as well.  Every time I biked through the bairros to reach town, there was always someone yelling "China!"  Here in Chimoio, I rarely hear the same mockery; Mozambicans seem to be more accustomed to ethnic difference here, and there's probably a higher level of education in the city, as there is a higher level of development.

Ironically, what I do hear a lot every time I hang out with fellow PCVs is "Grampa J."  It started as a joke, even maybe as a term of endearment.  But because at least one PCV would call me that every time there's some party (of which there are plenty) or get-together, it has become old and not really very funny.  In fact, even one European expat whom I hardly know has started calling me this as well.  It's become juvenile and annoying.  When I expressed my annoyance, it's ignored or dismissed as trivial.  I guess being of the minority opinion (I'm one of the few older volunteers), what I say doesn't seem to hold much traction.  

Now, I'd be the first to own the fact that I'm an old Gen. X geezer.  But I never expected to be labeled for it.  I find myself trying to re-claim or re-appropriate the label when I'm around Americans and expatriates to attain some control over my own self-definition.  Anyway, I've been in Peace Corps long enough (perhaps too long) to know that one should just stand back, observe, keep moving.  

I try to do my own thing.  Chess, for example.  Colleagues imply that it's become an addiction, but I don't think it's taken over my life.  I'm still functional.  I think.  I do end up spending a lot of time playing chess on-line, but I've also taught about at least half-a-dozen Mozambicans how to play, and it's good to see how they can be addicted, too.  It's great that we can take the time to play--they're not just playing checkers, or being on facebook, or whatever it is that most young folks do nowadays.  

Time to play, and time to get to know host country nationals.  These are some of the best benefits of a PC service.  When I first joined PC, I had this vague inclination to write a book. . .  Tough to do when there are so many things going on.  And, unfortunately, we don't have first world libraries for doing research.  At least I've got plenty of first-hand material to work with.  Now if I could just develop the discipline.

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