Lemonade: Site Visit to Guija in Gaza Province

We were somewhere around Macia on the edge of the Mozambican savannah when the Malaria drugs began to take hold. I remember turning to the ex-patriot on my right and saying something like “I feel a bit lightheaded; maybe you should drive…” He looked at me with a face that was half asleep and tangled in a web of confusion. Then suddenly, the engine of the downshifting Chapa let out a terrible roar and the sky was full of what looked like huge, once latent bat-like flies, all swooping and screeching and diving around the cabin of our enclosed archaic mini-bus, which was going about a hundred-sixty kilometers an hour and jam-packed full of people headed to Chokwe. Inside my head, a voice was screaming: “Holy Jesus! What the hell is going on! Where am I and what are these goddamn animals?!” Then it was quiet again, and I was blindsided by the reality of my current situation: “Oh…that’s right. Africa.”

Larium is a hell of a drug. There are two benefits: 1.) the protection it offers the user from that vile, murderous villain that is Malaria, and 2.) Lucid psychedelic night terrors and Thompson-esque day-time hallucinations that sometimes develop in people who’ve been ingesting it for far too long. I’d only been on the pills for five weeks, but it had felt like a lifetime. If this was already happening now, I couldn’t even begin to imagine what the side-effects would be like after popping one of these little white, pressed-powder pills every seven days for the next 108 weeks. Guess that’s just one more thing to look forward to.

The dramatic reality check I just described came a few days ago as a group of three other trainees and myself were making our way up north to the city of Guija for our site visit. Week 6 of Pre-Service Training is a special one; it’s when Peace Corps Mozambique arms its trainees with a very generous per-diem and sends all of us out to visit the sites of current volunteers so that we can see what life in the Peace Corps is really like and what we’ve gotten ourselves into (Spoiler Alert: I’ve since learned that what we’ve gotten ourselves into is beyond anything I could have ever imagined; and whether I end up telling it or not, it’s gonna one hell of a story). Needless to say, site visits are amazing. Everyone’s been looking forward to this point in training for a number of reasons. For one, it means that we are finally given a chance to escape from Namaacha for a few days, but more importantly, it means that we get to try to find some real food. One’s stomach can only endure a diet of only carbohydrates for so long.

We traveled in groups of two to four people, and every group went somewhere different. Some groups visited the Northern and Central Provinces, and some groups stayed in the South. Those in the North got to fly (not as luxurious as it sounds…they then had to take Chapas to site just like the rest of us), while those in the South traveled only by Chapa.

My journey began last Saturday (the 3^rd) at 4am. I caught a bus out of Namaacha at 5, which then took me to Juntos, the central chapa meeting point right outside Maputo. From there, I hoped abroad another chapa that was headed in the direction of the site I was going to visit. As I previously mentioned, my group was headed to the small town of Guija in Gaza Province, which took about three and a half hours to get to from Maputo. If the road had been paved though, it probably only would have taken us an hour and a half.

The trip was brutal to say the least (I explain the intricacies, and misery of the chapa experience in a future post…). Not only was it early, but it was also the first time I found myself riding in a chapa that wasn’t packed full of American’s traveling between the capital and our training village. I had no idea how long the trip would actually take and was feeling pretty nervous about the prospects of not being able to use a bathroom the entire time. Side Note…Some survival advice to anyone who wants to visit Mozambique: If the opportunity to go to the bathroom presents itself, take it. Even if you don’t have to go, try to empty whatever miniscule amount of processed liquid is being stored in your bladder, because you never know when you’ll have that opportunity again.

I had been in contact with the Elisabetta and Ali, the volunteers we were going to be visiting, prior to leaving, so I had a very vague set of instructions on how to get there. They were: Take a Chapa from Maputo to Chokwe, then another one from Chokwe to Guija; get off at the last stop (the secondary school) and call them; someone would then come and fetch us.

Although the ride was cramped and uncomfortable, we made it in one piece. For enduring such a long trip, our hosts rewarded us with a luxurious and rare treat: Feta Cheese. I was never really been much of a fan of feta back in the states, but for some reason, I devoured this gift without thinking twice. It looked way to appetizing to decline. Thus began my food vacation.

We spent the next few days cooking up extravagant and savory feasts while pestering the volunteers with questions about anything and everything that we could think of: How do you like your job? Who are your friends? What do you do to fight off boredom? Have you dated in the community? Where did you buy that Capulana? How do you clean your pit latrine? Etc. We discussed the various types of corruption Ali’s seen in the schools while slurping up Thai-Coconut Soup. We talked about the prevalence of HIV/AIDS in Guija over an Asian-infused stirfry. We baked apple-pie in a dutch-oven and listened to Michael, Ali’s RPCV boyfriend who was visiting from South Africa, explain how racial issues in Mozambique compare to those in the country he just recently finished serving in. In between our meals, we explored the small town while meeting a few of the people Ali and Elisabetta interact with on a daily basis.

On Monday the 5^th, Elisabetta (who is a health volunteer) took us to the hospital that she works at. It was about 8am when we arrived and were surprised to find that there were already a couple hundred people camped out on the steps and ramps, lined up outside. When we asked Elisabetta about what was going on, she explained that the people were there to receive their Anti-Vitrovial medication. The group was mostly women with some men mixed in as well. But there were also teenagers and children, infants and babies that weren’t even old enough to have sex. And each and every one of the people sitting there waiting was either HIV Positive or already living with AIDS. Just like that, my mind melted. AIDS is real, very real. And in Mozambique, it’s a big problem.

Six days a week, a different group of people numbering close to or greater than this one lined up at the hospital and waited to receive their weekly supply of a free medication that would help them control this life-threatening disease. According to the statistics thrown at us by Peace Corps, 25% of the population in Gaza is living with HIV or AIDS. In Guija though, a few years ago that number was reported to be closer to 50%. As a contemporary estimate, Elisabetta believes that 65% is more accurate. Holy shit, 65%.

As expected, the rest of the trip was pretty amazing and flew by. I should mention that we did take a day trip to the beach though and got to take a short dip in the Indian Ocean (sort of…it was more of a lagoon, but still pretty awesome). More importantly, I finally got my first taste of Mozambican sea food. My friends got crab matapa while I enjoyed some prawns. I think I’m gonna like this country. Enjoy the pictures.