Visiting England...

We just spent 4 wonderful days with Mikael's parents and younger sister. It is such a blessing to have family around! In our little community here, filled with students from 15 different countries, there aren't many grandparents hanging around. We live with an intense connection to people we only see every few years. It is a strange life, but I think we get to appreciate each other all the more for it. It helps that I have some pretty awesome in-laws!

They arrived on Wednesday in time to pick up Jakob from school on his 11th birthday! He was very excited and felt a little like he was the sole reason for their visit. They came to celebrate him, but also because Irene is turning 70 this month! We had a special dinner and cake and presents from Sweden. It was nice.

Since Mikael and I are both taking classes this month, Katie got to entertain them in the mornings. On Thursday we headed to Oxford. We got lost because I wanted to show them the beauty of Oxfordshire... but also because I tend to have an aversion to taking the same road twice anywhere if there is an alternative. (This drives most people crazy.) Oxford is beautiful once you figure out that you are allowed to walk through the imposing gates of all the colleges to appreciate the architecture. We waited too long to eat lunch... then we found Thai food on the High Street and we wandered through the Botanical gardens and enjoyed an afternoon coffee (because they are Swedish and even though we are in England, they need their coffee three or four times a day!)

On Friday I was allowed to skip all my classes! Fortunately, the topics of language learning theory are pretty well ingrained in by now. We decided to visit the villages of the Thames valley here in the Chilterns. First we went to Turville via Fingest. "Single track road" means narrow road with zero visibility through twisty hilly countryside with high hedgerows nearly brushing the car on both sides. My father-in-law is the bravest man I know, I think. He didn't say a word as he sat helplessly in the passenger seat while I plowed on into the unknown. Turville was worth it: famous windmill (Chitty-chitty-bang-bang was filmed here in the 60's), a 900 year old church, and a quaint pub. My favorite was the crooked house that adjoins the vicarage. My mother-in-law is amazing. She beat me to the top of the steep windmill hill. I didn't want to climb all the way, but I couldn't be out-done by a 70 year old granny!

From there we headed to Henley on Thames which is much acclaimed in guide books. Unfortunately, lunch took a long time at a cafe... and the River wasn't in view of the main part of town. I like Marlow better and I'll stick with that for any other visitors coming this way. It is smaller and very pretty with just enough boutique shops and charity shops to make it fun.

On Saturday we spent the day in London. Leaving home around 8am, we made it to the London Eye by about 10:15. Not bad actually. London Eye was Jakob's birthday present. It feels more like a slow elevator than a Ferris wheel, but you can see everything from up there. The long line went quickly. Then we had something to eat before taking a river bus down the Thames to the Tower of London and the Tower Bridge. Pretty cool to see even if you don't pay to go in. Covent Garden market was also on the schedule, so Kristina plotted our course flawlessly in that direction on the Underground. She knows her stuff. Covent Garden deserves longer than the hour and a half we had there, but with two young boys and hungry husband, it was long enough this time.

We were hungry again and ended up eating at  "Pret a Manger" sandwich shop. Fresh, good variety and not expensive... and they had bathrooms (which are not all that easy to find in London). We eventually found a bus that would take us to Trafalgar Square because the boys wanted to climb on the lions again. It is really one of my favorite places in London so far. Huge space with monuments and fountains surrounded by museums and taxis and red double-decker buses. I think you could watch people there for hours. From Trafalgar, I think you can go anywhere in the world... so we went home. But we were tired and happy and sad to see our guests go home to Sweden early the next morning.

In the evening...

Today I was reminded that at noon in the USA, it is almost nightfall in Mozambique. I spent a few minutes thinking through what nightfall in Tete is like for some of my friends. I'm feeling a little more homesick these days. Africa calls and I can't be there right now. I can remember and breath a prayer, though. Read along and maybe you will, too.

The sun sets quickly in the tropics... instead of long, lingering sunsets, the orange ball nearly drops out of sight behind Kalawera mountain at the edge of Tete town. In the shadow of the mountain, the breeze picks up from down river and there is a bit of coolness... or at least a marked relief from the strength of the sun. The light dims and birds fly home. Cattle wander back to the corral moved along by young boys with long thin sticks, dusty clothes and tattered flip-flops. 

Women are home and fires are lit for cooking or heating bathwater. There is smoke in the air and that smoke and dust are what make an African sunset so colorful. You don't taste the sunset in the pictures. I do...

Children mostly move in small herds as well. They choose to roam the streets and back alleys until it is too late to avoid getting home. Hunger brings them back to their families, just as it does mine. They are told to wash... just like my kids. They are told to help... just like my kids. Then a reed mat is spread and the bowls and plates are brought with steaming food. Tin plates burn fingers as they are lifted from the mounds of maize porridge and stewed greens with tomato and peanuts.  All share the meal from the same serving plates dipping bite-sized balls of ntsima in the stew. Pumpkin leaves are my favorite...

In some homes they will pause to thank God for the food... in some homes they will share enough and extra bits get tossed to the dog slinking in the shadows. In some homes, the porridge will be served with too little stew. Dad gets his first. Then the kids. Then Mom will take a little from the leftovers. Maybe she snitched a bit before dinner. I hope so. 

In some homes, Dad will not be home. He will be working the night shift... or he will be working far away in another city or country and manage to send money to his family and visit once a year. In some homes Dad will come after dark... after sitting in the bar and drinking too much and there will not be enough money for stew and Mom will have to remind the village elder that her husband is not caring for the family and there will be meetings with the neighbors and he will be told AGAIN that he has to give money for food. He will be told AGAIN that he shouldn't beat his wife too hard when there isn't food if he doesn't give her money to buy it. 

After the meal and after the bath from the bucket, the mats will be shaken and moved inside and spread on the hard earthen floor. The mosquito nets will be hung and capulanas will be spread and children will be tucked under the nets lined up a bit too close to be quite comfortable. The door will be bolted and the lantern will be turned out. It isn't quiet, though. Neighbors play their music loud enough to share with those who don't have the privilege of their own radio. Passing footsteps thud on the dirt path just meters from the mud wall that encloses the family. Roosters crow and dogs bark and howl. Bicycle bells chime and motorcycle engines rev. Shouts from friends greeting each other ring through the evening. 

Finally it is completely dark and silence falls and even those passing by remember to whisper... if they haven't been drinking too much. The crickets and grasshoppers sing. Frogs croak and chirp in the run-off water behind the bathhouse. Mosquitoes might buzz outside the net. Steady and even breathing fills the hut and there is that peculiar crackle of zinc roof sheets as they cool down. 

Maybe it is time to say that little prayer for my friends in Mozambique, now...

Rosa

Yesterday I got a request to Skype with a friend in Mozambique. I thought it odd, but knew it must be something important. "I just didn't want to tell you this in an email or on Facebook," she explained as we finally got connected. "I just found out that Dona Rosa has died. Q said it was back in January. She was sick, he said you knew about the illness. I'm so sorry. I know you were close to her."


Dona Rosa. Rosa worked with me for nearly 14 years in Mozambique. She was our empregada: employee. She arrived on our doorstep in November 1998, soon after we began living in Tete. She knocked on our door one morning and asked for a job. Without references, we were hesitant to "let her in." She came back every day practically begging for work. "I have two hands and I need work. My brother will tell you that I'm a good worker." After struggling to wash blue jeans by hand in a basin of cold water a few times, I gave in. "Ok, come and work half-days until Christmas. Then we will see."

That worked into a long-term chain of employment with us. She proved to be extremely trustworthy. She did her job. She didn't complain. She asked for things when she needed them. She had the key to our home. She cared for our children. She was our advocate with other employees. She taught us about Nyungwe culture and Tete rules for life. She borrowed money to do several projects and always repaid without problems. She knew how to manage her affairs even if she wasn't well-educated, even if she was a widow with a daughter, even if she was sometimes supporting as many as ten family members on her salary. She was honest, generous, careful and kind.

At first when I was told of her death, I wasn't surprised. I was almost relieved. She suffered from malaria a few times a year. She had digestive problems sometimes. She didn't have AIDS or HIV. After fleeing an abusive husband when her daughter was just an infant, she had remained alone. I believed her when she said she didn't "have men." She could have, but knew the price of that relationship.

Rosa knew how to trust in God. When I left a few weeks after her 50th birthday, we said goodbye. "I'll see you when when we get back," I said as always. "If God wills," she said as always. I believe shes enjoying Heaven where she can worship God without the worries of this world. I'll miss her. Tete won't be the same without her.