Some Things I Love in Mozambique

As I sat down to write this blog, I was hoping to share with you a few pictures of where I live and some creatures I live with, but then the list turned into something more. My couple of pictures started a brainstorm of all the things I've enjoyed for the last 12 days in Mozambique. I'll spare you the whole list, but among the "things I love in Mozambique" are the warm weather, the landscape, the fruit, the interesting creatures (that don't crawl on me), the slower pace of life, and the company! Here are a few pictures to give you a sense of where I am:

I hadn't seen my cousin Dara in about 10 months, so it's been a joy to spend time with her every day. This is a picture of her living room.

These are pics of the landscape on the way to visit the "mission" where Dara volunteers. It's about 40 km from the city.

 

Not sure if I "love" Lizzie Jr., but I find her quite amusing. She hangs out in my bedroom. I haven't seen her mama Lizzie in a while, but Jr. is about 3 inches long.

I just spotted Lizzie Jr. Jr. on my bed today. She is only about an inch long!

Videos of Chimoio

Here are a few videos I took recently from the back seat of the Bighorn. One shows a road on the outskirts of town. The other shows a main road heading home. Beware: they're a little bumpy!

The Cry of the Poor

The Lord hears the cry of the poor.

Blessed be the Lord.

This song based on Psalm 34 has been running through my head since the day after I arrived in Mozambique. I’ve been thinking a lot about the poor. That second day we drove through town I felt so privileged to be driving a car amid the poverty. And the body language of those walking the streets and milling through the market saddened me. So many looked sad, listless, and even purposeless. I wondered if they really were or if my Western eyes were misinterpreting something. I knew that the lifestyle of Mozambicans was very unlike the fast-paced, career-driven lifestyle of Americans in the States. So how much of my first impression was accurate? How much was truly a picture of a people with little hope?

The CIA Factbook estimates that unemployment in Mozambique is around 21%. I see many growing what they can in their gardens to live on, some selling what they can in the market and on the streets. Many subsist on very little. These are a people who endured a civil war that lasted 15 years. And the prevalence of AIDS/HIV is estimated at 12.5%. I must remember . . .

The Lord hears the cry of the poor.

Blessed be the Lord.

So how accurate is my first impression? In the end, it doesn’t really matter. Many do seem sad and purposeless. But what matters is Christ. Caring for the sick, the orphan, and the widow—this is what matters. 

David says in Psalm 34:6, “This poor man cried, and the Lord hear him.” I've read that the word “poor” in this verse could be translated as “miserable.” This isn't necessarily a poverty of wealth but a poverty of spirit. I see a lack of choices here in Mozambique and a lack of opportunity. Many are crushed in spirit. The hopelessness is hard to miss. Yet I am blessed to see how many Christians are working here to bring light and love and basic needs. I see nurses working long, hard days, treating babies and mothers who are infected with HIV. I see a young woman who opened a two-room schoolhouse in the “bush” two years ago and now has 45 preschoolers coming every day for education and food. I see a man who has built a carpentry and metalwork training school to give men useful trades to be employed. Yes . . .

The Lord hears the cry of the poor.

Blessed be the Lord.

I will bless the Lord at all times

with praise ever in my mouth.

Let my soul glory in the Lord

who hears the cry of the poor.

Let the lowly hear and be glad;

the Lord listens to their pleas;

And to hearts broken God is near;

who hears the cry of the poor.

Every spirit crushed God will save;

will be ransom for their lives;

will be safe shelter for their fears,

and will hear the cry of the poor.

We proclaim your greatness, O God,

Your praise ever in our mouth;

Every face brightened in your light,

For you hear the cry of the poor.

“The Cry of the Poor” by John Foley © 1978 New Dawn Music. Based on Psalm 34.

                                                     

Chicken for Dinner?

My cousin Dara and I left at 9 this morning for a seemingly uneventful meeting with an organization that does home-based care and provides services for orphan children. We met with three people to discuss their program, then took a tour of one of the care centers based here in Chimoio. The outdoor tour was short. It included the gardens, a bread oven, and a chicken coup, and we soon piled into the truck to return home. That's when the uneventful morning took a turn toward the hilarious.

As we piled into the truck, one of the groundscrew came toward us with a chicken hanging upside-down. My first thought? Oh great, I'm going to be riding in the back seat with a dead chicken on the floor. But as she came closer I saw that the chicken was definitely alive. And it was coming into our car pronto. Before we knew what was happening, the chicken was passed by its legs to Clara in the front seat ... then to Dara in the driver's seat ... then to me in the back seat. All I could think as this was happening was, Are you kidding me? And Dara and I busted out laughing. Dara was well aware that I'd never held a chicken in my life, let alone a chicken upside-down. She promptly told the crew with us that it was mi primera vez, "my first time," and they busted into laughter as well. After a few minutes we were calm enough again for me to ask what on earth I do with it now. The crew kindly wrapped a plastic bag around its bum to catch any droppings and placed it in the back of the Bighorn (SUV). Dara asked who it was for and they confirmed that, yes, it was for her. A chicken gift. It was quite generous and we would be remiss not to accept it. Another chicken quickly came into the car in the front seat, but we soon figured out that that one was for Clara.

As Dara and I drove home, we wondered what on earth we were going to do with this chicken. Obviously, the intent was to kill it, pluck it, skin it, and cook it for dinner. But this city girl wasn't exactly up for that challenge. Neither was Dara. I suggested we get a rooster. Wouldn't fresh eggs be delicious in the morning? But that added responsibility was quickly vetoed! The next best thing, we decided, was to give it to Jose, the guard who watches Dara's property at night. He would certainly appreciate it more than we would—and would need it more as well. So after some pictures with our feathery friend, Jose put it in the garage for safekeeping until amanha, "tomorrow." And thus ended the chicken extravaganza.

Bon appetite, Jose.

Chicken, anyone?

Getting a handle on this chicken!

Jose and me and the feathery friend.

Jose, Dara, and Nede.

Dara and Nede.

Fresh Pizza... out of the box?

So I was sitting at the Johannesburg airport last Friday waiting for my flight to Mozambique and I noticed this curious machine sitting a few yards away: PIZTOP. "Freshly cooked, piping hot, real Italian pizza in under 2 minutes." Really? Are you kidding me? Freshly cooked from a machine? The next line: "The first hand to touch the pizza will be yours." Wow. A bit crazy, and I'm a bit skeptical . . . but not quite skeptical enough to order some pizza myself and see if it's really good. Instead, I just wonder how much business that pizza machine gets. And then realize I am thankful this is one convenience that hasn't yet made its way to the States.