De-Robbed

A miracle! This week at a nearby mission compound (not our mission), my documents, credit and bank cards, photos and some of my house keys were found? They had all been put into a plastic bag and thrown over the wall where they would be found by those living inside. How in the world did they know these would get back to me? Well, likely they looked inside my residence visa, which says "missionary" and knew that lots of missionaries live at this particular compound.

Hooray! A dear friend found them and called me and and we all did the dance of happiness at our house. This saves all kinds of hassles and money, and puts us out of the danger of not being able to procure all that we need. I was a little perturbed to see that I only received back a few of my house keys, though. THankfully they were the keys to the front and back doors and padlocks, which seems very strange. Kevin thinks that perhaps they kept those other keys to use on interior locks of houses they break into. I don't know - anyway, I'm glad to have what I got.

Why did they give the stuff back? Well, in asking around I got various theories. A missionary colleague who has been here over 15 years tells me that in years past, you always got your documents back. The thief wasn't interested in them and would simply throw them down somewhere, and the police would find them and return them. These days, they are more likely to be burned so as not to leave a trail. One Mozambican suggested that the people feel kindly toward missionaries and wanted to "help" by returning my documents. Someone else refused to answer when I asked, and looked nervous. This makes me think that perhaps the thief is afraid of me - afraid that I will put some kind of curse on him for stealing my purse. Another person suggested that the thief didn't return anything, but someone else found my things and threw them in a place where they knew I would get them, and did this to be nice.

Whatever reason, we are thrilled. Nampula is a city of almost a million people, not a small town, so my hopes of seeing these things again were very low. Thanks to God for His mercy toward us in this thing! Of course, we'd rather not be robbed. But these things do happen. We feel so thankful that it has ended in a way that minimizes the difficulties for us. All praise to Him! - C

Inselbergs

Do you know what an inselberg is? Well, just look at the photos and you will see some.

Here is a definition I found online: An inselberg is a prominent, steep-sided hill made of resistant solid rock, such as granite, rising out of a plain, usually in a tropical area. Its rounded appearance is caused by weathering, in which the surface is eroded in successive layers. Ayers Rock in Australia is an example.

Nampula is surrounded by these kinds of rocks and you find them all over this area for hundreds of kilometers. They really are so interesting and when flying over in a plane it looks like a giant just hurled all these enormous stones in all directions. I'll include a few photos here for you to enjoy. Kevin and Toby have climbed one of these outside of town several times and enjoyed the view. Some of them are MASSIVE! Like a mountain, really, but a large piece of stone. In various places, the sides of them are being quarried (often by hand) and the pieces of granite sold for construction. I would not want to be the guy who is trying to chip away that mountain. -C

ANAMED Seminar

The last two days we have been enjoying some very interesting guests. Katrin (German) and Monika (Austrian) are missionary nurses who work in a bush location teaching a team of people how to use local plants to treat illnesses, wounds, and skin problems. They use papaya, Neem, Moringa, Onion, Hot Peppers, and many other plants. Most of these are indigenous plants, though some have been brought in. They also use a particular plant, Artemesia, to prevent and treat Malaria, and we have been using this in our home for a couple of years as our malaria preventative.

ANAMED, Action for Natural Medicine, is an organization that has developed materials which teach how to use all of these plants in Africa to do all these things as well as how to make soap and other basic items.

Kevin asked our friends to come and give a seminar for his students, since he likes to give them a variety of tools to improve their lives and understand the world around them better. Almost all of them came, and I could see, watching them, that they were very interested in the material. Did you know that onion has antibiotic properties? That papaya is good to treat diarrhea? That hot pepper cream can be used for arthritis? The two men that Katrin and Monika brought with them were the ones who actually led the seminar, which was especially valuable, because they were able to communicate in a manner more understandable to the students, and because the students could see that WE can do it. Often, if a foreigner does something, people think "Well, that is well and good for YOU, but WE can't do that." They could see that these pleasant gentlemen were well versed in herbal and plant treatments, and could prepare all of the tinctures, creams and syrups themselves. At the end of the two-day seminar, people crowded around the table to buy the creams and crushed leaves, which sell for from 75 cents a packet to twelve cents a packet. Very cheap. More importantly, they left with knowledge to help themselves in treating basic illnesses.

We hope that the information presented will be passed on to others, and most of all that the students will begin to understand that they can help themselves rather than depending on the system here to take care of them (which it tries to do, but often fails at). God has provided so many wonderful things for us to use to help ourselves - it is truly astonishing! Good job, Kevin, in bringing this information to your students. And thank you Katrin and Monika for driving five hours in from the bush, dragging all your materials. And also to Vasco and Vincente for your hard work and great job you did in teaching. - C

Robbed!

Well, something happened to me this week that I was just waiting for. Theft is pretty common around here, and sooner or later pretty much every missionary has something stolen. My parents were here in April, and during their visit my mom and I were in town. As we got into our truck, a man came to my window and gestured frantically toward the back, and someone thumped on the back bumper. This is a ploy to get you to exit your vehicle hurridly, leaving your valuables open to theft in the front seat of the car (usually your purse). Having heard about this from other missionaries, and having already had it tried on me twice before, I simply smiled at him and yelled "thief!". He gave me a disgusted look and walked away, and as we drove away, I commented to my mom: "Well, we didn't "get it" this time, but one of these days I am going to make a mistake and let down my guard, and I am going to 'get it'."

This was my week. I left my purse on the floor of the front seat on a quiet street in town while I ran in for just a minute to pick up Ben from preschool. While I was coming out, we heard the alarm going off, but didn't see anything. As we entered the car, I noticed that the back door on the other side of the car was unlocked and saw that my purse was gone from the front. They had smashed the small window in the back, put an arm in to unlock the door, jumped in and grabbed the bag. I pushed Ben into the truck, and jumped in the driver's seat, and we took off to find the perpetrator! Of course, he was long gone and we drove up and down the streets in vain. Ben thought it was all very exciting.

In my purse was my driver's licenses (International and New York), credit card (now canceled), bank cards, my identification document with my Mozambique visa (critical for a foreigner in Moz), my wallet, cell phone and house keys. All of those things are replaceable, for which I am very grateful. There was less than $10 in the purse, so there was no great financial loss. There will be the costs and hassle of replacing all those documents, and we'd appreciate prayers that it all comes through before we leave for Malawi on December 5th. The cell phone was a cheapie, but it is a pain to lose all my numbers! It is the house keys that worry me the most. We've changed the outside padlocks, but it is harder and much more expensive to replace all the interior locks and outside door locks. Lost my Leatherman utility knife too. :-(

Of course, there is that icky feeling one gets when one has been a victim of a crime. Your personal effects are now in the hands of a "bad guy" and your dear family photos from your wallet are thrown in a garbage can somewhere. He has your organ donor card and your name and photo on your driver's license. It is is not a pleasant feeling. However, I don't have that feeling of anger and helplessness that I expected I would feel. Maybe because I figured it would happen sooner or later, and I'm thankful that I didn't have a bunch of cash, my PDA, or anything dear to me in that bag!

I spent the afternoon at two different police stations, which really did a number on my back. I've been having back problems and finally feeling a bit better, but three hours of sitting on wooden chairs has set me back quite a bit. The police were quite friendly and pleasant, however, though one asked quite pointedly if I were married and if I live with my husband and wanted me to teach him English. Sorry buddy, not interested. Reports were filled out in longhand, to the tune of an hour per report (3 reports). I was given a paper to show that my documents were stolen, to help procuring new ones (no help for USA documents, since it is in Portuguese! And I was told to report to the police investigations unit on Tuesday to see what they've found. I have no hope of seeing my bag again, though I do hope that somehow my documents will be recovered and maybe even the house keys. There is so much petty crime here, though, that the police are completely overwhelmed and unless a bribe is paid, usually nothing is done. So, we'll begin the process of replacing everything.

I am so grateful that if I was going to "get it",it ws in this manner. No violence, no fear, nothing irreplaceable taken. Enjoy your new Leatherman knife, Mr. Criminal. - C

Elections

I wanted to post a photo of one of the political posters here, but Kevin thinks it wouldn't be wise - people can get into trouble in Africa for talking about politics! But here in Mozambique things are pretty calm.

On Wednesday, national elections were held. The current president was running again (he has served one five-year term, and is allowed to serve three terms) as well as two others, and for weeks before we saw trucks full of campaigners cruising around shouting and playing loud music. Groups of people wearing their party colors and chanting walked up and down the streets, and it was all quite interesting!

Election day itself was very quiet, and we heard reports that people had to stand in line for many, many hours to vote. But it is encouraging to hear that people do turn out to vote. The official results won't be announced for a month, but already the preliminary results say that the current president will be serving again. This is a surprise to no one, since the opposition party split this year and didn't have a strong chance. As to whether the elections are free and fair, there is some debate as to whether they are 100%, and we do hear of harrassment (and personally know those who are harrassed) but in general we believe the will of the people is heard.

We are so thankful it has been a peaceful process and enjoy talking about it with our friends here - they feel it is all very exciting (there have only been a few elections here, so people still enjoy it). It is such a big deal that kids get out of school a couple of weeks early, ane election day is a national holiday. - C

Islam Seminar

Last Saturday, the second Islam seminar finally took place. The first one was on March 7th, and was led by two converts from Islam, and coordinated by Kevin for his students. He's been planning the second one for awhile, but it had to be canceled twice for various reasons. But last Saturday, it went off without a hitch, led by the same two converts along with Kevin. This one focused on a lot more practical topics (the last one talked about what Muslims believe and that kind of thing) and it was neat for Kevin to see his students in groups discussing how to talk to their Muslim neighbors. Here, probably 35% of the population is Muslim, and most follow a kind of folk Islam and don't really understand a lot of it. Out on the coast, almost everybody is Muslim, and there is a great deal of hostility toward Christians in many areas. Colleagues of ours have been stoned when sharing the gospel, and living among the coastal peoples can very tricky. The ideal people to share Christ with the Muslims here are their friends and neighbors, but frequently the idea doesn't even enter into the minds of the local Christians. Through these seminars, Kevin hopes to give his students the information that they need along with the vision to share Christ's love with these people. - C

Manioc

Manioc is one of the main staple foods here. I wish we could say that we like it, but unfortunately we don't! I think that it is not really the favorite food of people here, either, but it is a staple because there is an ability to dry it and keep it for many months. At the top you can see a photo of it, just dug up. It can be peeled and eaten raw, which is it's tastiest form, or it can be cooked and eaten. Mostly, it is peeled and laid out to dry on rooftops, then stored for future use. In its dried state, it is pounded into a powder and then sprinkled in boiling water to make a porridge.

Here's another photo of a lady digging it up - it is the roots of a plant that can be seen in the last photo. It is a good dry-weather plant - it just doesn't grow as fast without rain, but doesn't die. You see these plants all over the place - they don't yield a lot of food (the photo pictures all that is gained from one plant) but it doesn't require any care. The leaves are also part of the diet here, and these are prepred by pounding them with a large mortar and pestle until they are in tiny pieces, then they are cooked up in a stew with onions, tomatoes, garlic, coconut milk, peanut flour, or any combination of the above. That dish is called matapa: it is full of iron, and we ask our house worker to make it occasionally because we really like it.

The Bible says "Do not store up treasures for yourselves here on earth" and I think of that often as I look at the situation of people here. It is not possible to store food long-term, except for manioc really. You can sometimes store rice, and peanuts, but frequently the bugs and rats get to them. I have tried various times to store food long-term, buying when it is cheaper, but things go bad so quickly. Potatoes cannot be stored, because it is not cold enough, and things get moldy and soft pretty quickly. Last year I kept onions for several months after buying in bulk, and these had to be laid out in the sun every week to kill the mold that wanted to grow on them.

So, it is understandable why people grow and eat manioc. Unfortunately, the starch is not very nutritious, and is mainly used as a way to fill the belly. There are quite a few people who don't understand that children need to eat more than just manioc or corn porridge, and as a result, one of the local NGO's estimates that 75% of the children of Nampula are malnourished. We also try to tell people that we know that children (and adults, too) need a wider variety in their diet, but for poor people it can be a bit difficult.

So, manioc it is. -C

Ladies Get Out of Town

Last Saturday, a friend and I planned a mini-retreat for the expatriate ladies of Nampula, at a picnic spot outside of town. This place is really the only place I know of within 100 miles that you can go and sit outside in a pretty location and not be surrounded by wide-eyed children watching your every move. We had a potluck lunch, with chicken donated by a kind single man, and then spent a couple of hours guided by my friend Cathy in some spiritual rejuvination. It really was so pleasant, and I especially liked seeing everyone relaxing and enjoying each other's company. We had women from various countries, including USA, Canada, Holland, Zimbabwe, Swaziland, South Africa, Germany, and probably some others I can't think of.


Here's a photo of some of them arriving - we had 37 ladies at the event.

The expat women of Nampula face various challenges, many of which I have outlined on this blog, and we hope to have more of this kind of thing in future to encourage them as they try to support and implement various ministries and outreach programs. - C

Inacio Gets Married!

Inacio is our part-time guard, and he got married last weekend. We were so pleased to be able to attend his wedding, and I'll upload some photos here.

The church was decorated with paper chains and cutouts, some from English magazines.



The groom arrives first and sits on a plastic chair covered with a piece of cloth. The bride and groom look totally miserable during the whole wedding. They are supposed to look that way to convey the seriousness of the event.

Here's the bride and groom sitting next to each other after taking their vows. Now they are allowed to hold hands, but they still don't look at each other. They didn't look at each other during the vows, either. They are flanked by their "godfather and godmother". This is a couple who stays next to them during the whole wedding and who are to serve as their role models, advisors and counselors. The godparents guide them in everything they are to do during the wedding, and even show them how to kiss each other, after they are married. That part was quite fun!

The service lasted several hours, and included the vows, the blessing, signing of the license, and a sermon on marriage that lasted over an hour. The boys did great, and sat on chairs looking at books and such. They really have adjusted to sitting in church here. We didn't leave the church until after 1 pm, after arriving at 8:30 am. Bride and groom didn't show until closer to 10 am, though.

After they left the church and were driven (in our car) to the drop-off point, capulanas (the traditional cloth that is used for skirts, for wraps, for everything) were laid on the ground so the bride and groom's feet wouldn't touch the dirt. After they passed, the capulana would be picked up and brought to the front of the line. You can see one being thrown here.

Entrance to the wedding was strictly controlled, as apparently people try to sneak into weddings here so they can get a free lunch (which is a big deal). The yard is cordoned off, and a bamboo structure made with black plastic on top to keep the sun off the revelers. Long tables are set up, with benches. We were part of the head tables and had plastic chairs. As we ate, about 60 people stood and watched us from over the chest-high fence. Somehow it just takes your appetite away to have people stare at you while you eat. It is something we are getting used to, though! It was a big deal to have white people at the wedding, something which conveys the idea that we have some grand importance. We don't, but some people here believe that we do since we represent money and power. Sigh.

Anyway, here is a photo of the bride presenting a piece of cake to her mother and telling her that she is leaving her house and now all of the work she did for her like laundry and cooking, she will now do for her husband. It was a very touching moment.

Another interesting part of the celebration was the feeding of the cake by the bride and groom. The groom lays his head on the bride's shoulder, and vice versa, and she feeds him a piece of cake while the master of ceremonies talks about how when he is sick and weak, she will care for him. Here is Inacio with his new wife.

After the meal, which was some very excellent chicken and rice and cookies and cake, it was time for some dancing. The second seating of guests were busy eating their rice and beans (head table people get a better meal), since there was limited seating, and the wedding party (only men) got up and did some dancing. Kevin and Toby kicked it up a little, which was enjoyed by all.

It was a wonderful wedding, and we are so pleased for Inacio and his bride as they start their new life together. He is about 27 years old and she is about 19 (normal age for a girl to marry, if not a little old). He is just finishing high school this year (thanks to our sponsorship) and she is in 7th grade and likely won't get much further once the children come. Normal for here. They are a committed Christian couple and we look forward to observing their life together. - C

Tools of the Trade

Yesterday, our neighbors brought us some really nice fish, fresh from the coast (2 1/2 hours away). I don't know what kind it was, but it was a nice light one, not too fishy. Perhaps a kind of snapper.

Anyway, I've been meaning to post with photos of some of the tools I use in my kitchen and thought this would be a good time. I made coconut fish yesterday, with a recipe given to me by a Mozambican lady in Beira (further south).

First, you start with the rice. Here, we eat only "machamba rice". A machamba is a garden, but in people's gardens they grow everything. It is much bigger than an American garden, generally. Manioc, peanuts, beans, tomatoes, lettuce, you name it. And quite a few people have rice machambas. We buy this "fresh" rice, which is dried but is much fresher than the stuff you buy in plastic packaging at the store. And ooooohhh is it good!

Anyway, to prepare it, first you put it out in a flat basket (pictured) to sort out any rocks, bugs, hulls, or anything else that you don't want to eat. I have two of these baskets in my kitchen and they are useful for anything you want to spread out and shake around (like beans, vegetables, etc.). They are sold all over town, as are all the things pictured. Probably cost less than 50 cents each. So, you sort the rice, while you put the water to boil. We don't measure a certain amount of water for a certain amount of rice. When the water comes to a boil, you pour your clean rice into a bowl and cover it with cool water, and stir it around with your hand to clean it some more, then pour out that water and handful by handful scoop your rice into the boiling water. Once it comes to a boil again, set the timer for five minutes and stir it occasionally. Throw some salt in. After five minutes, you tip the extra water out of the pot into the sink. You can save this water to give to someone with diarrhea (a frequent problem here), or just dump it down the drain. The trick is to leave just the right amount of water in the pot. Then turn the heat low, cover the pot, and let it simmer about 10 minutes. Stir it occasionally and look to make sure it is not burning. That's it.



Next is the fish dish. Usually, a fish arrives in my kitchen completely intact. Which means I have to cut off the head, scale it, and filet it. This is why we rarely eat fish, since I hate that job and unless I have someone helping me that day I don't want it! This fish arrived already cut up, though the scales were still on. Cut your fish into pieces and marinate it overnight in lemon and garlic. Leave the skin on. Next day, cut up 1/2 cup green peppers, 1/2 cup tomatoes (these are from our garden), 1/2 cup onion and throw it all into a pot with 1/4 cup oil. Meanwhile, flour and fry your fish.

Fry your vegetables for 10 minutes. Throw in 2 teaspoons of red pepper, salt and black pepper.

Now it is time for the coconut milk. To make coconut milk is a fair amount of work. First, you have to crack it open with a hammer. Toby is always eager to do this, but so far has not been successful and I have to finish it up. I'm just waiting for him to smash his finger! The water that drains out is not coconut milk. It is refreshing, but useless for cooking this dish.

Now, to grate the coconut. Here, we use a little stool. You sit on it sideways, and holding half of the coconut in your hand, you scrape it over the sharp, scalloped, rounded scraper attached to the end of the stool. Every household has one of these. Grate your coconut meat into the bowl strategically positioned below the scraper. This takes a fair amount of muscle! Every visitor I've given this job to has given up, and it has taken me some time to be able to do it without my arm being sore. It takes me about 10 minutes, but my guard can do it in five. Lately, he gets the job. By the way, I feel compelled to say that this photo makes me look like I've gained about 100 pounds, but I haven't. :-)

Once you have your coconut meat, add water to it and squeeze it in your hand so that the milk comes out of the meat. Do this until the water looks milky.

Then, it is time to pour the milk and meat out of the bowl into the strainer, which is a little wooden box with netting and chicken wire across one side. Every household also has one of these. If you don't have enough milk for your recipe (this receipe calls for 3-4 cups), add more water to the meat and squeeze it some more, then strain it into the bowl of milk.


Pour your milk into the pot with the vegetables and bring it to a boil, stirring occasionally. Then, let it boil 1-2 minutes, stirring constantly. Turn in down slightly, put the fish in the pot and let all cook together for 10 minutes. Serve over the rice. Enjoy! -C

"This is God"

I help teach the Sunday School at our little church, once or twice a month, and one of the other church members does the other weeks. A few weeks ago, we were doing a lesson on the nature of God (we are starting with Genesis and working from there) and he held up a little picture of a snowman and was talking about it. I wasn't paying close attention, since Benjamin was acting up for the upteenth time and I was busy disciplining him, but Toby told me later that the teacher had said that the snowman was God. I said he must be mistaken, and that the teacher was really talking about the verse that was pasted on the picture.

This week, Toby wore his Christmas socks (with snowmen) at home one day and our guard told him that he had ghosts (spirits) on his socks. After Toby told me this, something clicked in my brain and I said "oh no!". Because it occurred to me that the Sunday School teacher had indeed told the children that the snowman was God. God is a spirit, right?

Now, an American will burst into giggles at this kind of a mixup. Hillarious, isn't it? We did indeed have a laugh, but after we finished we felt rather sober. Because there are all kinds of wierd stories circulating about all kinds of wierd things (for example, rumors circulate about various things that foreigners do to gain power or money). Obviously, at some point someone saw a snowman depicted in a photo and had some ideas about it, and those ideas have spread to the general population. People here have no concept of snow, and why would they? It is a completely foreign concept. So, this white blobby thing that looks vaguely human would indeed be taken for a spirit. Makes me really wonder about the few Christmas decorations that are put up in town by unknowing foreigners! I'll have to watch this year to see if any snowmen go up. Gives a new meaning to the phrase "Spirit of Christmas past".

Anyway, I determined that I must speak to my colleague about it and after we discussed it he did indeed say that he thought this was a spirit and he was trying to explain to the children how God is a spirit. Ok, I don't have a huge problem with that. However, we do have to erase the snowman image from their minds, because they are going to see it occasionally and they mustn't believe that is an image of God. I'll have to sort that one out, perhaps by providing some other kind of picture for them to look at, like a bright light or something. Meanwhile, we just shake our heads! - Cami

The Sideshow Circus Freaks or Doing Hard Things

This entry has two titles, for good reasons you'll see in a minute.

One of the hardest things in adjusting to life here is just being so darn wierd. At home, I am a fairly normal person, and as I walk down the street people do not drop their packages, punch their friends in the arm and point, shouting "Look, there she goes!"

Ok, I am exaggerating a bit. But, there is more interest in my comings and goings than I am used to in America, and this is because I am a white person. In town, driving around in my truck, people do stare at me, but it is just general interest. When I ride the motorcycle, however, I feel like I am a freak from the circus. What, do I have two heads? Two years ago, there was only me and another lady in town who were riding around on motorcycles. We got a lot of attention. People's jaws would actually drop. Crowds would gather as I came out of a store, unlocked my bike, and rode off. Trust me, any narcissist would have a heyday here. Nowadays, there are lots of ladies on scooters and some on motorcycles, and interest has calmed down a little. But, my blinding whiteness still creates a lot of stares, pointing, and laughter. I wonder sometimes "Are my clothes unbuttoned? Do I have something smeared on me? Why are they staring so hard?". Just something different, that's all.

Staring here is not considered impolite. Do this in America, and people get angry. Here, there is nothing wrong with staring at someone for a protracted period of time, and if you ask "What are you looking at?" then you would be considered the rude one.

This has been especially hard for Toby. No kid likes to be stared at (unless they are parading by with their fancy new toy) and in the beginning he didn't like to go to town at all. If I am a novelty, small white children are even more so. I made the decision last year that the kids and I would walk to church, which is about a 35 minute hike from our house, through winding dirt paths, the back of people's yards, into the mud-hut slum area, past the market and on. I wanted the kids to get used to being in "the bairro", which is the area where almost everyone in Nampula that Kevin works with is living. I hated driving up in my car (which would be like arriving at church in a Porsche in America) and playing the role of the rich American. Plus, Kevin often needs the car on a Sunday for his preaching trips.




So, we walk through the bairro and it was so miserable for Toby. People would point and laugh as we passed, sometimes in an unkind manner. Many were friendly and would greet us, but groups of children sometimes followed, chattering about us. "Akunha!" (white person) was shouted at us over and over. This is also not considered rude, but was discomfiting for Toby. Finally, I came up with a game: each time Toby hears the word "Akunha!" he gets one metical. The value of this is about 4 cents. By the time our walk is finished, to and fro, he sometimes nets almost a dollar, and is pleased. Once, he walked way ahead of me, out of sight, because he felt that he would get more shouts and make more money, but I had to put a stop to that. Now, whenever he hears it he grins widely and his eyes light up. Funny!

We are getting used to being objects of interest, though sometimes it can feel stressful. One missionary family I know drove into a small town and everyone stopped to watch them drive by. Their youngest son said to his brothers "Just smile and wave, boys! Smile and wave." (This is a line from the movie Madagascar, by the way). Now i know a little bit more about how minorities feel where i come from. Meanwhile, sometimes I take a deep breath before I begin my walk to somewhere, because I know that my presence will create interest, and I'd rather blend in. Just not possible, unfortunately. On those occasions where I am considered more "normal", it is such a relief!

I know that when we return to the land of more varied skin colors, it will seem strange to us. What, aren't we interesting any more? :-) Until then, we steel ourselves, try to understand why, and attempt to use the attention for good and not for stress. - Cami

Wierd and Wonderful Birthday Gifts

Kevin always gets me something really good for my birthday, and this year I got two great things. He started making me a dehydrator for our anniversary in August, and finally finished it the day of my birthday. He's seen me spend many hours trying to sun-dry tomatoes in the sun (or using the car as an enormous hot-box), only to burn them in the final drying session in the oven. So now, I can use my homemade dehydrator to make dried tomatoes, banana chips (I hope) and dried mangos.

He asked me what I wanted for my birthday, and I said a new stand for our water filter. You can see from the photo that our big white filter is kind of ugly, and it squats on our counter next to the sink, a constant eyesore. Necessary, but ugly. So, I asked him to get a welder to make a metal one that we could paint the same color as the window frames, and I would make a removable cover to remove the eyesore. Here you can see the results, which I am very pleased with. I'm 39, by the way, and had a wonderful birthday celebrating with out-of-town friends who brought me a bottle of shower gel, which I promptly spread on my skin because I thought it was lotion. Sigh. Obviously I've been here too long. :-) - Cami

Ben goes to school

Ok, I need to give Toby some PR as well, and say that he started second grade today. But for him, it is old hat already. He was up very early this morning and woke us up to tell us it was school day! He's been anticipating it for weeks (even though break was only about 5 weeks). Off he went, happy as a clam, back to his familiar school and the same teacher he had at the beginning of last year. Tonight, I asked him how it felt to be one of the "big kids" and he said "Oh man, it's great!".

But for Ben, today was very special. For about six months now, we've been pointing out his preschool as we drive by and saying "there's your friends" when we see the children outside. I took him two weeks ago to sign him up, then to buy fabric for his uniforms. The leader of our church (also a tailor) sewed them up, and when they arrived yesterday he couldn't wait to put them on. Every day lately, he's been saying "Is today the day?". This morning, we dressed him up (isn't he CUTE?) and he and I went off. It went pretty well, though i could see he felt very insecure because everyone was speaking to him in Portuguese. Every time the teachers spoke to him, he hid his face, and didn't seem to understand anything they said. He stayed very close to me all morning, though when I ducked out for an hour during snack time he seemed ok with that. I'll gradually decrease my time with him at school, and feel confident that eventually he'll do fine there. We dumped Toby in a Portuguese preschool in Portugal and he was miserable for months. We regret that to this day, so with Ben we've decided to be more gentle about it. We can't wait to hear our little Ben speaking fluent Portuguese, and able to interact with people here more easily. Please keep him in your prayers. - Cami

Mistakes we Make

We are foreigners here, and for us that frequently means that we make mistakes with the language, social gaffes, or misunderstand pretty much anything. Our most infamous mistakes are language ones. For example, when we lived in Portugal, Toby was enrolled at a local preschool and one day the teacher told me the kids were going on a field trip to "Quinta Amarela" or something. Now, I looked up quinta in the dictionary and it said Farm, so we spent about a week prepping Toby with all the animal names. Every afternoon, we'd look at picture books with animals and teach him the names. On the appointed day, we dressed him in his jeans and rubber boots, and sent him with a jacket and a sun hat. After we picked him up, we asked him how the farm was, and he said "We didn't go to the farm, we went to a movie!" Apparently the name of the movie house was Yellow Farm. Another time, the teacher spent some time explaining to me that Toby needed a particular thing, and I didn't know the word. Finally she wrote it down, and I went home and looked it up. A toothbrush. He needed a toothbrush (like all the other kids) at school. Sometimes we felt so dumb! She would look at me with pity because I was so stupid!

Lately, however, our knowledge of Portuguese is much better and our mistakes are funnier. Here in Mozambique we asked our guard to wash the car. We mixed up the verbs for "clean" and for "wash" and asked the guard to "wash" the inside of the truck. "Are you really sure?" he asked us about four times. We were sure. But later on, Kevin ran frantically to stop him when he saw him washing the inside of the truck with a hose! It was completely soaked. Luckily it dried out fine.

A few weeks ago Kevin was visiting the church where the boys and I regularly attend, and preached a sermon on the "peas and the goats". It had me in stitches - I could hardly manage to correct him! The others in the church were much more polite and probably would have listened to 30 minutes on how God will separate the peas from the goats, but I just had to stop him.

The social gaffes we make tend to be more serious. Unfortunately, the ones I make are the kind that start rumors. Here, suspicion of sexual promiscuity runs rampant. There are good reasons, mainly because a great many people are promiscuous. But you have to be super careful to not raise suspicions about yourself. I went over to visit my lady neighbor some months ago, and found her not at home. I was standing in the yard, about 15 feet away from her husband, chatting amicably for a few minutes for heading back home, when two men from his church came in the front gate. The looks on their faces were total shock. It was obvious that they thought something was going on, even though we were standing in an open yard. My neighbor looked very embarrassed and I went home, uncomfortable with the idea of what rumors I had just started. Another day, I invited an elderly pastor to sit on our screened-in veranda and have a cold drink and a tangerine while I did some things in the house. After about 15 minutes, I emerged and packed a box of things on the table while we chatted a bit. He looked uncomfortable and finally we decided that Kevin wasn't coming home soon, and he decided to leave. As I opened the door to let him out, I found our guard kneeling by the steps "working on some flowers" there. It was obvious to me that he was trying to keep an eye on what he thought was an inappropriate tryst going on inside the veranda. Good grief. I learned my lesson - now all visitors have to sit on a straw mat or a chair out in the garage. Better yet, make them sit in the front yard.

Of course, the situation with white men is even worse. We had a young white man staying with us and Kevin was out teaching a class. The boys and I were eating dinner with this young man, and we were talking about something funny and laughing. My guard (a different one) came to the back door for something and he looked furious, though of course he didn't say anything. Here, although I am allowed to feed my male houseguest, I mustn't enjoy his company so much. Sometimes I feel like I ought to go into purdah (isolation) and wear a burkah, but mostly I just try to follow the social rules once I am aware of them.

One mistake that I am trying very hard to remedy is an impatience on my part. Here, it is so important to greet people. You can't rush into "can you tell me what time it is?" or "How much are those carrots?". Once, I asked the teller at the Shoprite if the credit card machine was working that day and she very pointedly said "GOOD MORNING" before she answered my question. You must remember to slow down and acknowledge people before starting any business. The relationship is always more important than the task!

I have to remember, too, that people are not always trying to cheat me. I've had quite a few bad experiences in the past with vendors trying to cheat me out of a few cents or more, and quite often I jump to that conclusion when change is slow in coming, or is given in many coins, or math is done creatively. I snapped at a minibus taxi driver once when I stood for awhile waiting for my change and he seemed to be ignoring me. I felt quite chastened when he finally got change for me from the person he was talking to. Although, as foreigners, we frequently are charged higher prices or someone will try to steal something from us, in general the vendors and taxi drivers are helpful and honest with us. Of course, I may not be receiving a full two pounds of the rice I bought (because the scales have been tampered with) but I do get correct change. I just have to keep in mind that things run a lot more slowly here, sometimes people are not very good at math (when we work together to come up with the amount of change, it is always correct) and generally folks are kind and friendly. Slow down, speedy American, and remember that people are more important!

Of course, trying to be too polite can be funny as well. I always say "no, thank you" to the vendors on the street (selling oranges, perfume, shoes, you name it) and I had a group of church ladies in my car one day when I said this. They thought it was the funniest thing they ever heard and explained to me that I mustn't thank the vendors when they hadn't done anything and were in fact pestering me. So, sometimes, it is ok to be rude (in my perspective)!! - C

Kite Flying in Nacala

Last weekend we took a three-night break on the coast, which we try to do every three months. While there, we took the boys down to the beach for some kite flying, and since the wind was crazy, our kites kept crashing. These kids helped us a lot by picking them up and flinging them skyward to get them going again. They all speak Makhua and some Portuguese so communication was a bit difficult, but they were very interested in what we were up to, and especially the camera!

Kevin Turns 40!!!

Wow, look at the blaze on that cake! It is hard to believe that I first met Kevin more than 20 years ago and that he still is the most wonderful man I know. He had a great birthday, with our team prayer meeting (and cake), then lunch at friends' house (with cake), then supper at home with out-of-town friends (and cake). This morning he enjoyed a piece of the strawberry rhubarb pie I made for him. We see strawberries in shops only about once a year (and very sad-looking ones at that), and they cost the moon, but a friend tipped me off to their presence and I ran to the store to get them and then froze them. A few days later, rhubarb magically appeared at the grocery store (same friend tipped me off) and when I got there the next day, I got the LAST package! Froze that too, and resulting pie was sooooo good. Not 'cause I am such a good cook, but because it is strawberry rhubarb!

Anyway, I was going through a family photo album with a friend last night and was looking at all the photos of dear ones who have died in the last four years. I counted four grandparents, an aunt, and a great aunt, and of course Tabitha. Kevin's maternal grandmother died in April, and his paternal grandmother died on Saturday. And we didn't make it for any of the grandparent funerals. It is sad to us. We'll be thinking of Kevin's family on Friday as they say goodbye to Nana Zwart.
-Cami

And you thought service at your restaurant was slow. . .

This morning, as planned, I went off on the motorcycle about 3 miles down the road to visit one of Kevin's female students. He really can't visit her at home, so it is up to me and I am pleased to visit her because she is such a sweet, lively person. I showed up there about 9:15, and by 9:30 she had started cooking. I expected this because unfortunately there is an idea that any visitor must be fed. This is very nice for the average Mozambican with a low income, as he or she probably has eaten very little for breakfast, but for us it is a nuisance and tiresome. You'll see why in a minute. But we appreciate the generosity from which this custom comes, and people are so kind to want to feed us.

The first 45 minutes, I sat on a chair in the shade by myself, visited occasionally by the lady, Faurita. We chatted about this and that and she would go back into the cooking area in front of her mud house (a chest-high wall in front of the house with roof over it) to poke at the fire. I wondered what would be to eat, as Kevin is frequently fed dried tiny shrimp that still have their shells on, a crunchy and gritty though tasty meal. I don't like shrimp, so I was hoping this wasn't it. Anyway, after about 20 minutes I suggested I would like to learn how to cook mozambican-style. Of course, I've seen a fair amount of mozambican cooking and can do quite a bit already, but this was a way to get me out of the chair and sitting near the lady so we could talk more. And I was bored. About 30 minutes later, she invited me into the "kitchen", where she was sitting on a sideways plastic jug and gave me one too. She was putting the rice in to cook. Now here, we eat fresh rice. Believe me, you will never go back to what we eat in America after eating fresh. It is indeed dried, but less than 6 months old and has a flavor you won't believe. Kevin bought some of the regular imported kind last week and we could hardly eat it. We are so spoiled now. Anyway, the second hour I was there was involved in cooking rice. Then she started cutting up greens - big leafy vegetable, while sitting sideways on a 7-inch high stool. She did this without a cutting board, simply slicing up toward her thumb while the leaves were rolled up tight. Yikes. Then time to cut some tomatoes, then some onions, same way. Meanwhile, we had moved back into the yard and watched the ducks wander around, along with the chickens and some babies came and went from the neighbors.

She has a little shop where she sells dried fish and shrimp, tomatoes and onions, and oil. It looks like something you'd see on Giligan's Island and to us would be "cute" but is just normal here. Built of bamboo, straw roof, countertop made of mud topped with cement to display the wares. It was very interesting to watch the neighbor ladies come and ask to buy a bit of cornflour, a little pile of fish, a few tomatoes, a half-cup of oil. Everything is bought in tiny amounts. One of the children knocked a green papaya off the tree and cut it up with a huge knife. Another of Kevin's students (another lady) showed up with a huge pile of peanuts and we shelled some of them while we waited for the water to boil to cook the greens (rice was now finished). As we passed the 2 1/2 hour mark, they started pounding peanuts in the big mortar and pestle thing (don't know English name!) and shaking out the powder through a sieve. Eventually, at about hour 3, this was done and all put into the pot. I sent Kevin a message saying "we are going to eat now." Another 30 minutes passed. Much banging around in the cooking area and inside the house where I believe dishes were being procured. I was asked to sit on a straw mat in the shade. Finally, lunch. Some very tough chicken pieces in about 3 cups of oil (no joke) with a nice curry flavor, plain rice to mix it with, and the greens in peanut sauce. A delicious lunch, really, and Faurita was so generous in making it for me. But wow did it take a long time. I thought that a 9 am visit would avoid a meal, but instead it meant 3 1/2 hours prep time! Which is understandable since each item must be cooked in its entirety, then set aside to cook the next thing. She needs a three-rock (actually 9 rock) "cookstove" instead of a one-rock.

We used the time to talk about how she became a Christian, who were the various children around (her husband's 9 year old son from a former marriage, her 12-year old niece whose mother died last year), which neighbor had a new husband or wife (people leave and "marry" again more casually than you would think). One of the students said to me that people thought it was very funny I was sitting there talking with them because "white people don't come and visit us" and I thought "That's because it takes 4 hours!!!!" but was glad I had come. Finally, after we finished eating and chasing the ducks away from our food, I announced we really ought to go and would she like a ride to my house (she walks all the way into the city to buy things for her little shop)? Yes, of course. She brings out the gifts. About 5 pounds of fresh rice for us, and a huge pile of peanuts from the other student. Then she catches the chicken running around the yard. I looked at her and said "Oh no. I can't take that on the motorcycle. Please, I have chickens at home." "No," she insisted "I bought this for Toby". Wow, Toby will NOT be thrilled, I think, but luckily he can be told to pretend to be happy and he will be.

So, we wrap up all the gifts (minus chicken) and tie them to the back of the bike, then we both climb on and said chicken is held by its wings by Faurita. Now, on a normal day I am quite a sight to see on the bike (more on that in another post) but today is a very SPECIAL sight. I am so thankful I don't have to go through the city. Off we go. Chicken arrives looking half-dead but some water will perk him up. And I check the clock - 1:30. Man, I'm beat.

On a more serious note, you can keep Faurita in your prayers. Her husband has been running around with other women and the only thing she can do is leave him. If she tries, she'll probably lose anything she has, and she doesn't make enough money to support herself. Her family might help her, but it would be rough as none of them have much money. She doesn't know what to do and he is also sometimes violent. Unfortunately, this is an all-too-common story here and we hear many stories of women being victimized by their husbands in various ways. She is a faithful Christian who wants to do the right thing. - Cami

The Old Man and the Cat

This week had some interesting events. I have been wanting to have some excuses to meet more of my neighbors (wandering around, poking your head into their yards, isn't considered appropriate) and this week my wish was granted.

Last Sunday, we got a new addition to the family. We had Molly when she was a kitten, for about a week before various circumstances sent her off to another home. She returned to us this week (despite our "no receipt, no returns" policy) and good ole stinky butt is somewhat unhappily installed on our veranda. She really is a nice little cat, but being here with two very loud, active boys, three dogs and another cat who keeps trying to be her friend despite her fervent attempts to avoid acquaintance, has been rather traumatic for her.

Anyway, on Thursday she was put into the yard while the dogs were locked up, and took off. We searched high and low for her but no sign. So, I started the rounds to the neighbors looking for her. People think cats are valuable around here, because they keep the rats and snakes at bay, so were concerned that i find my cat. I ran into a group of children behind my yard (we have a 10 foot wall, so it is like another world back there, full of gardens and mud houses) and told them I would give them a present if they found my cat. Now, there is nobody better than a pack of 10 year old boys to scour the bushes for a missing cat. If they can't find it, nobody can. Within 15 minutes they were back at my house reporting success. Unfortunately, it was a dead cat they had found. They led me on winding paths for about 1/4 mile before we came to a cat that looked exactly like Molly. My heart just sank. But after inspecting said cat for about 5 minutes, I realized that she didn't have Molly's tail. Molly has a very distinctive serpentine tail, and this one was short and fluffy. Phew. I was fortunate to run into a neighbor that I'd met before, and she confirmed that said dead cat had been running around for several days before.

Later that night, a tremendous ruckus in the yard brought us out to find Molly, cornered by the three dogs. She had come home. We are so thankful.

That same night, our neighbor from across the street called to tell us there was a "strange person" in our front yard. He and Kevin met outside to discuss the situation and decided that the old man was drunk and, since it was a warm night, to just leave him be and see if he moved on after he recovered himself. Next morning, he was still outside, albeit a bit farther down the sidewalk in front of another neighbor's house. Clothed in rags, he was a pitiful sight. A neighbor gave him some breakfast, and we wondered what he would do. Not drunk, but mentally ill or senile. I waited to see what the community would do about the situation.

Unfortunately, they just left him there. By two pm, when the sun was hot, we was lying on his back on the sidewalk, naked to the waist and looking pathetic. People just walked around him and I began to wonder if I was in America where people ignore those in distress. So, I told my guard that we were going to move him into our front yard and put him on a straw mat under a shady tree while the community president decided what to do with him. My guard looked horrified. But he's crazy, he protested. Well, tough luck. We can't leave him out there to die. Reluctantly, he brought out the straw mat and we went out to inspect the victim. I went next door to find someone to help us pick up this six-foot tall man (who probably weighed 110 pounds) and they looked uncomfortable. Did not want to touch him. As I walked back to my guard and the old man on the sidewalk, there were a couple of passersby standing there, and I asked them to help us. They readily agreed, and we all lifted him up and helped him walk to the shade. He was wet with urine and staggered. His clothes were rags and he was missing most of his teeth, and thin as a rail. We laid him on the mat, and people started coming. There must have been 20 people in my yard, discussing the situation and what to do. The neighbor brought cornmeal to make some porridge, and my guard agreed to feed him something since I was late for a meeting. It was so odd - nobody wanted anything to do with him while he lay out there, but once he was in my yard they all had advice and agreed that it was good that we were caring for him. Why? Probably because they didn't want responsibility for him (for reasons explained below) and were glad I had taken it on.

Later that night, the president of the community still hadn't done anything and I suggested that we bring out the rope bed and let the man sleep on my front veranda or inside the backyard. My neighbor and guard became very upset. No, they said. If he dies here you are going to have major problems. I could see their point - there would be a police investigation and it is quite likely that, as a foreigner, I might be charged with murder. Rumors would fly about what we had done to the old man and there would be all kinds of unpleasant repercussions. But I suspect that there were other "problems" they were concerned about, like bad spirits attacking my house, funeral arrangements and ceremonies, etc. I suggested we take him to the hospital, as he was obviously ill. No, my neighbor said, they'll just give him an injection to kill him since he doesn't have anyone to advocate for him. So, in the end we took him to the police station at 8 pm, and they were surprisingly helpful. They were respectful to him, and accepted him without hesitation after asking for my neighbor's details like name, address and occupation. She looked very frightened and did not want to give this information because, as she told me later, they might come back to her with problems. I was surprised to hear this since her husband is a transit cop. In the end, they let us go after only about 10 minutes and the old man waited there for a transport to take him to the hospital. I don't know what happened to him, since he wouldn't tell us his name or who his family is, and without family it is not likely he'll end up anywhere very good. The police station was a broken-down old building with a couple of benches, a desk, and an old couch where the police watch tv while they wait for a call. They seemed quite competent and professional though, and none of the bad things I expected happened (requests for bribes, harrassment of the foreigner for dragging sick people around and dumping them at police stations, inspection of the foreigner's documents with threats of confiscating them, etc.).

All in all, satisfactory endings to both situations, and some interesting insights into the behavior of people in this culture. I do hope the old man ended up with good treatment, and with the intervention of the police that is quite possible. Meanwhile, it was sad to see how fear prevented the community from caring for him. - Cami

Public Transport

Just had to post this photo I took on the main highway (which is 2 lanes) out to the coast. This is just the back of the truck, which is chock-full of people. Space ran out, so guys are hanging off the back. This truck is going about 60 miles per hour. i won't go into a million details about traffic accidents and such here - suffice it to say that they are more frequent than they ought to be and that people are severely hurt or killed when they are involved. Few have seat belts and many travel just like this. Head-ons on these two-lane highways (which have curves and hills) are all too common. Makes me think twice about taking public transport anywhere. Of course, having someone throw up on my shoes (which happened to a colleague), riding next to a blaring speaker for 6 hours (another colleague), having a baby changed on your lap (colleague), smelling dried fish for hour after hour (colleague) or getting worms in your backside from the wet seat you are sitting on (which happened to a friend) are other deterrents. - Cami

Chocas Mar

Wow, the internet is SO fast today that I'm uploading photos wherever I can. We've had quite a few days where we could hardly send an email, internet was so slow. Other days it is out completely.

Here is a photo of the beach we spent one night at this week, to celebrate our 17th anniversary. Of course, we were with the kids and another family as well, but that's a longer story! It was really so pleasant and enjoyable. The beaches here in Mozambique are gorgeous. Unfortunately for the tourists, there are quite a few beaches that are used as public toilet (I am totally serious, and no you do not want to see it), so most beaches are not ones you want to bathe at, or even walk on the sand at. But this beach does not have local people living close by, and so is pristine and beautiful. We did a little snorkeling and found some coral and little fishies about 300 feet offshore, which was nice. We have tons of tourists visiting in the south and once transport and tourist attractions improve in the north, I think there will be a lot more visitors to these beautiful beaches with powdery sand. -C

Last Day of School

Last Friday was the end of the school year for Morningstar School, where Toby attends. He is sooo excited to now be a second grader, and no longer the littlest kid in the school. There were two others in his first grade class, but they were both taller than him.

Friday was field day, and there were races and relays, "sword fighting" (object to knock the frisbee off your opponent's hand) and a pinata. All the parents came and it was great fun watching the dads participate in some of the relays.

What a blessing this little school is to us. Each of the teachers has actually raised her own support to come and teach our kids (one is already a missionary here with her husband and children). Can you believe it? it is amazing to me that they would go through all that and move so far from friends and family to teach my kid! Life for a single white lady here in Nampula is not easy and they are harrassed pretty much every time they go out. We are so thankful for these kind and dedicated women who have sacrified so much so that our children can receive a quality education. Here is a photo of Toby with his teacher, Miss Jarvis. He started off the year with Miss Dancey, who went home for a short furlough and will be back teaching second grade in September.

Toby received the award for "most enthusiastic" in his class of first and second graders, which everyone laughed at. No lie! He loves school and is sad that he has five weeks off. He has been learning so much and is doing very well - we can't imagine a more positive school experience for him and it is wonderful to see him learning scripture and applying it in his life as a result of what he is taught. There is no bullying at the school and there are high standards for behavior- as a result the atmosphere is truly so pleasant. Toby will be back in September - please join with us in thanking God for providing this "haven of peace" for Toby and such a great start to his schooling. - Cami

Church Visit in the Bush

Two weeks ago, the whole family drove about 45 minutes outside of town to visit a little church in "the bush". Of course, 45 minutes isn't much, but it really is the bush! People live in little huts and grow crops to feed themselves. There is no electricity or running water, and the nearest health post is quite a distance away. The quiet and beauty of the area is so nice to see, though for those living there of course it is nothing new.

This little church was started by some of Kevin's students, who walk every Sunday from their homes about 30 minutes away to pastor the little group of believers. Kevin received a warm welcome there last year, and he wanted us to come and meet them this year. I really wish we could take each of you along to visit, as it is impossible to convey the whole experience in a short post here. So, I'll just give a few details.

We picked up the evangelist along the road so he could guide us to the spot, and after bumping for about another 30 minutes along dirt roads, we came to the church. Made of stick and daub, with a straw roof, the inside has mud benches and was decorated with bits of paper and flowers (from nearby bushes) hanging from the low ceiling. We were about 30 minutes early for the service, and we settled near the car to wait. Every few minutes, someone would come over to greet us as they arrived, while the boys ran around exploring and the elders met inside the church to decide on the program for that morning.

When it was time for church, we all assembled inside and the singing began. We all sang together for a little while, and the drum beat the rhythm, then there were several special presentations of little choirs. Each had prepared two or three songs. Then it was time for announcements, which were given in Makua and in Portuguese, then for the preaching. Kevin gave a sermon of 45 minutes or so, translated into Makua by the evangelist. Afterward, there was a time to pray for various people, then the offering. This is often an exciting event, and this was no different. While the singing got louder and louder, people dance up to the person holding the offering plate and put their money in. Then, each of us was grabbed and brought up to the altar as an "offering". A few seconds after you arrive, someone comes along and takes you back to the arm and leads you back to your seat. Quite fun, if you know what is going on! Neither Toby or Ben did and they started to panic a bit until we helped the "grabbers" to reassure the boys.

After the service, which lasted about 3 hours, we sat and chatted with a few people while our lunch was prepared. A chicken had been killed when we arrived that morning, and this was prepared in an oily sauce with tomatoes and onions. A big plate of white rice was also ready for us, and this was put on a table inside the church with two cokes and a fanta for us. A salad with lettuce and tomatoes was put out for us too. It is always interesting to see who will eat with us, and this time it was just us. I'm not sure why the pastor eats with us sometimes, and sometimes not - perhaps it has something to do with how much food is available. But this time, it was just for our family. We used to feel really bad about this, but now accept the gift for what it is and eat heartily and with thanksgiving. The boys have adjusted and usually eat the chicken happily, along of course with the rice.

After we finished eating, we came outside and thanked them for the meal, then it was time to go. A couple of church members piled in our car to take advantage of the ride, and we bumped off again toward home. We had left home at 7:30 that morning, and returned at 2:30 that afternoon. You can see why the boys and I don't go every Sunday! But we enjoyed this trip out to see these lovely believers and encourage them. Kevin wrote about this over at his blog as well, but I wanted to put up some more photos. - Cami

Baptism

Last week, we had the privilege of attending a baptism for believers from my church. This is the little church that the kids and I attend weekly, since Kevin is "on the circuit" most Sundays, visiting his students' churches and encouraging pastors. There are quite a few new believers in the church, which was started by a couple who have lived in Nampula about 7 years. He is Mozambican and she is South African, and we are so happy to be part of this church that they started (one of three).

There were about 15 people who attended, the maximum that Pastor Moses' truck could hold, and we convoyed with them in our truck. We bumped down the road past our house for about 30 minutes to reach a river that has a good amount of water (hard to find now in dry season) and there Kevin was able to help a bit with getting people in and out of the water and assisting the pastor. Toby, of course, was right in the middle of whatever he could get in the middle of. Always wants to be part of the action! Ben fell down into the cold water (after numerous warnings to stay out of the water) and had to have his clothes changed. Of course, since I know Ben, I had anticipated this particular outcome and was prepared with dry clothes.

What a joy it was to see the happiness on these folks' faces as they publicly proclaimed their love for Jesus! We really enjoy knowing them and encouraging them and I hope to be able to help them in some way as we go along.

It was a good day. After the baptism, we all went back to the elder's house for a little party with beans and rice and the cookies that Catarina and I had made at my house the day before. The boys played with the kids and I sat and chatted with this lady and that, asking them to give me their testimonies. Some had attended church as children but just recently come to know what it really means to know Jesus, others had no knowledge of God at all before coming to know him. God has been working so much in the ministry of Moises and his wife Connie, and we feel very fortunate to know them! - Cami