Lemonade: October 2013

You ever been in one of those situations where you enter the scene and immediately you know that something’s gonna go wrong. It’s like stepping on a landmine in the bush, and hearing the click of the detonator right before your leg is blown off. Just enough time for a bunch of neurons to fire in your brain, and for you to realize what’s happening and what kinda shit is about to hit the proverbial fan. It’s that moment you say “Oh S…”, but before you can even finish the explosion of smoke and fire swallows you whole and your own foot kicks you in the face.

Yep, that happened today…when I almost took down the entire project. Allow me to give an overly-dramatic reinterpretation of what happened today during a meeting I had with the District Administrator of Montepuez about the Bridge. I’m gonna go ahead post the e-mail I wrote to our Country Director, as well as a few other Peace Corps Chefe’s running the show in Maputo.
Prep yourselves. This is a long one.

“
Hi Everyone,

I’m writing you this e-mail in regards to a meeting I had today with the Administrador do Distrito de Montepuez in Cabo Delgado. You may have already heard, but I will summarize the events of the meeting below (as well as why I had the meeting in the first place) so that everyone is clear, just in case.

Background:
Over the past few months, I’ve started working on an exciting secondary project. I’ve partnered with three small communities just outside of Montepuez with the goal of building a pedestrian bridge over the Rio Montepuez. Together we will plan, design, and build a 35 meter Bridge with the purpose of not only providing a safe means for crossing a dangerous, crocodile-filled river all year long, but to also stimulate the local economies. Strong enough for people, animals, bicycles, and even motorcycles, a bridge in the proposed location would allow farmers to use the fertile land on the opposite side to continue their subsistence farming, and start profiting from cash crops like cotton as well. Additionally, it would also provide those living on the far side of the river with convenient access to a hospital and specialized medical posts, secondary schools, a diverse market and the main transportation hub.

In addition to the three communities, I’ve managed to put together a small team of 4 additional people who are helping with various tasks. These counterparts include: 1.) Alan - an American Missionary fluent in the local language (Macua), active in the beneficiary communities, and serving as a liaison between the team and the communities; 2.) Armindo – my former language tutor, turned project assistant, who is well connected in the city, knows how and where to get materials, and is very knowledgeable about all things Mozambique; 3.) Anna – My wonderful sitemate who has recently come aboard to assist with state-side fundraising, material procurement research duties here in Moz, and general support; and, 4.) Undukkus – the most recent addition to our team and a first year student and leader at the local Universidade Pedogogico who is assisting with local fund-raising activities, has an expansive network both here in Montepuez and in Pemba, and is serving as our liaison with the local government.

In trying to realize this project, I’ve had to interact with the local government quite a bit. Armindo and Alan have been particularly useful in this regards often pointing me in the right direction and even accompanying me to some of the meetings. Up until today, every single government employee that we’ve talked to about the project (Chefe’s included), have been extremely helpful, and often both excited and interested in the project too. In developing the project, we came up with a plan of attack of who we would approach in terms of seeking approval for the project and when we would talk to them. We all agreed that the first people we needed to talk to (after the villages of course) were those at the Escritorio dos Servicos Urbanos do Distrito. They are in charge of infrastructure projects, and it seemed to us that this type of project fell right into that label. We met with the Director and a Technico, described the project to him, and then discussed his thoughts and our next move. He told us that the next step would be to write a letter to the Administrador describing the project and seeking approval. In this letter, he told us that it would be necessary to include a cost estimate, and in the meantime while it was being prepared, he said that he would contact the administrator, tell him about the project and to expect a letter from us.

Producing an estimate for the bridge is not an easy task due to the complex nature of the project. In order to produce an estimate, we needed to do a site survey and take measurements. Once we had that information, I would be able to produce a basic design and material estimate. I have a background in Civil Engineering, so I was excited to take up this opportunity to do some real field work.

In trying to figure out how we could do this survey, I began to search the city for some of the tools I needed. I went back to the Escritorio dos Servicos Urbanos do Distrito to see if they had any equipment I could borrow, and was then told to visit the Escritorio dos Servicos Urbanos do Municipio. While there, I spoke with the director and discovered that the city Technicos had a Total Station, an advanced surveying machine that would allow for us to make the precise measurements that we needed. I was told that borrowing it would not be a problem so long as I got approval from the President of Montepuez. So, I went back home, wrote a Pedido, and returned the next day to ask the President of the city if I could borrow their Machine. As it turned out, rather than just dropping off the letter, I was invited into the President’s Office and had the opportunity to speak with him directly about my request. The President was extremely enthusiastic about the project and approved my request immediately, wishing me good luck with my project and saying that he hoped we would succeed so that we could continue doing more projects just like this one. I returned to Servicos Urbanos a few days later to pick up the machine, and then went to complete my survey. Using the collected data, I was able to produce a basic design and put together a rough budget for the project, the same budget I submitted with my PCPP Grant Application. That brings us to the present day.

Present Day:
This morning, Undukkus and I went to the city with the intention of scheduling a meeting to sit down with the District Administrator so that we could deliver the letter and tell him about our project. As it turned out, his secretary told us that was available to talk right at that moment, and so, if we wanted to, we could talk with him today. Thinking this was a good chance to introduce ourselves and give him some basic information about the project, we decided to take the meeting. This turned out to be a big mistake.

Even before we started the meeting, both Undukkus and I could tell that the Administrator was already in a bad mood. We started off the meeting with formal greetings, before Pedro went into some of the details of our project. Undukkus barely had a chance to say anything of substance before the Administrator began an angry tirade about how this was his district, how this wasn’t the mission of Peace Corps, and how he hadn’t received any of the proper documentation (from the Pedagogical University, from the American Embassy, from Corpo da Paz, from anyone…). He refused to let us explain, was not interested in seeing any of the pictures we brought along, and was not willing to continue the meeting without any of his required documentation. It was obvious that he wanted us to leave when he closed his notebook and stood up. We both did the same, and as he walked us to the door of his office, I tried to respectfully despedir (to say goodbye). I thanked him for his time, apologized for the inconvenience, and then assured him that we would arrange all of the documents that he requested. I then stuck out my hand to shake and close the meeting. He looked at my hand, and after a few very awkward seconds passed, he grabbed it and literally forced me out of the room in a very aggressive manner. He then slammed the door behind me and kept Pedro in the room. After two or three minutes, Pedro emerged just as confused and taken aback as I was. He later told me what happened once I had left. The Administrador, still angry, turned to him and asked “Who are you? Who do you think you are coming here? Do you have any idea what you are doing?” Pedro tried to respond in a calm manner, but the Administrator cut him off again, explain: “We have problems here in this country and you are trying to do this? Get out of here.” He then kicked Pedro out as well. We were both shocked.

The Aftermath:
Reflecting back on the events of today, I’ve tried to understand what happened and why he reacted the way he did. I’ve come to a few conclusions. First and foremost, I realize that he should have been the first person we contacted in regards to this project, and not doing so was a big mistake. We probably should have written him to ask for permission before doing any work at all. I regret not doing that. Secondly, I believe that he is concerned about me being an American and, judging by what he said to Pedro behind closed doors, he may believe that I have ulterior political motives. He has every right to think that. He fought with FRELIMO during the Civil War, and as Marcelino mentioned to me on the phone today, he was actually a high ranking official in the Military prior to moving into office. He is probably aware of who the US backed during the Mozambican Civil War, and as a result, may not be very trusting of Americans. Additionally, as strange as it may sound, he may also believe that I am spying for the American Government (this wouldn’t be the first time that American’s living in Montepuez have been accused of spying by a district administer, it happened to the Missionaries upon their arrival here ten years ago).

As far as I am concerned, I’ve put it behind me. I have no intention of abandoning this project, and if anything, it has only motivated me even more to succeed. Both Pedro and I feel that have something to prove, and would like nothing more than to show the Administrator that we are capable. Personally, I look forward to the challenge of changing his opinion of me and my country.
“

So yeah, that happened. And even though it’s a pretty significant happening, I believe it’s something we will be able to overcome. We’ve got a plan of action that our head honchos in the capital have approved and we’ll now follow it to resolve this issue. Essentially, we’re gonna give this guy exactly what he wants. The Country Director is writing a letter that will be signed and stamped that includes information about Peace Corps, my role as a volunteer (Professor, Representative of the US, Pursuer of Secondary Projects, etc.), and that he approves and supports my undertaking of the bridge-building project. Pedro, meanwhile, is working on getting the same exact type of letter from his university.

Now I may not be able to secure a comfortable space on the Administrators “Good Side,” but that’s not really my goal right now. I’ll give him what he wants, and if he approves, then we’ll show him a bridge. Has the CIA spy ever done that?

My cousin used to work at this restaurant in Bethesda a few years ago. I think it was called Newton’s Table, after Sir Isaac himself. All the dishes were so creative, it was like each plate was an ingenious concoction straight from the mind and workbench of Mr. Sir Isaac Newton himself. Ok, it probably wasn’t named after Isaac, but more likely it was the name of the chef or his mother or something. But I digress. Anyway, we went because my sisters are foodies, and the restaurant was new. Obviously, this was more than enough reason to drop $30 a plate on overpriced seafood, isn’t it? Well, that and my sisters have this overly aggressive need to know everything there is to know about every single restaurant and chef in existence. Shit again with the digression. Anyways, we went, and aside from the impeccable service from my man Perry, the only thing I really remember from the experience was the overdose of blue my eye’s digested over the course of the visit. Never before have I indulged in such a monochromatic environment. It was like we had walked in on a fresh crime scene where the blue man group had just drowned an entire village of smurfs with blue paint while playing that late 90’s classic “Blue” in the background. The walls, the chairs, the table clothes and napkins, the rim on the glasses and the trim on the plates, Christ even the silverware was Blue (in reality, the silverware was probable silver, but still, the reflection was blue dude, blue a-ba-de-a-ba-di.

So, last night, my Newton’s Table experience was one-up’ed by Mozambican Prom. Yeah, they have that here too, and last night, I went.

But it’s not your normal prom. You know how in America they are all about trying to limit the amount of alcohol consumed at the dance with the optimistic goal that everyone in attendance will show up and subsequently remain completely sober? So imagine that in Mozambique, but the complete opposite. Particularly when it comes to the teachers. For lack of better terms, or not, it was a complete shit show.

A day or so earlier, one of my colleagues, a fellow professor, stopped by my house to drop off an invitation. Inside a fresh envelope was a photocopied letter with my name written on the top. Dear Professor William, it said (side note: they never use my last name, because not only can no one pronounce it, but they can’t spell it either…), you’ve been invited to the “Baiale das Finalistas,” an end of the year dance at a local hotel honoring a selection of students (read: the ones who wanted to pay to attend) who passed the first and second cycles (tenth and twelfth grade, respectively).

Like most everything in this country, I’m pretty unclear on the exact details of how it works and what it all means, but from what I experienced, basically it’s a dance in which students celebrate the aforementioned achievement by preparing a whole bunch of food, feasting on it, getting the attending teachers (and later on, everyone else in the room) completely and utterly shit-house wasted on chefe beers, and then dancing until the sun comes up.

The students coordinated the entire thing, including their attire, the music, and a few dance performances they did. Purple was selected as this year’s chiquey-as-shit color. It’s not really my thing, but hot damn do the Mozambican youth know how to wear it. Since the students in attendance were mostly the ones that came from a little money, they didn’t seem to have much of a problem preparing their costumes. The girls all used the same shiny purple fabric to make extravagant ball gowns, each unique and customized for the person modeling it to the crowd. The men, in similar fashion, used the fabric to make a variety of vests, ties, suspenders, socks, and any other wacky accessory you could imagine that would go with some suit pants and a white button down (that it, except for the kid who had the brightest shirt in the room). One of my favorite kids decided to channel Prince and made a costume shirt and pair of shiny purple shoes. I think fabulous is a good word to use here.

So I arrive around 830pm, and all the teachers were immediately sat in a row behind some tables. Beer was dropped in front of use, and bottle after bottle continued to be delivered by students throughout the night. I was pretty confused by the whole thing at first, and the drinks didn’t help. “How come there were only 25 students?” I wondered. Where was everyone else? That’s when I found out that the entire event was paid for by the students in attendance and each person participating had to drop something like six or seven hundred mets just to attend. So yeah, it was a pretty selective crowd. Among the combined 700 or so tenth and twelfth graders, only a handful of “finalistas” (what we in Americaland call graduates) attended. Luckily a number of my 12th graders were there, so at least I got to celebrate with a few of them.

The All-Stars, my Colleagues.

Taking out seats.

We sat around for a while before the events began. First, my school director stood up and read a speech he prepared. Sappy stuff about the future and how he’s proud and how everyone is great. It was actually a pretty nice thing of him to have done. After that, he began calling students individually to the front to pin a banner on them. To my surprise, I got called up to pin the purple finalist banner on some 12th graders purple dress. Awkward. I had no clue who this girl was, nor did I know where to pin this girl. Hopefully I didn’t stab her, but if I did, hopefully there wasn’t too much pain. She didn’t scream or anything, so I think I did ok. Then again, you never really know with Mozambicans.

One of the Head Teachers hammin' it up while talking about the event. Those purple people are our Finalistas.

One of my colleagues trying not to stab a student.

Following the banner ceremony, the food came out. The students had spent all day preparing a feast of cultural dishes: grilled chicken, matapa, feijoada, cabbage salad, endangered fish, and of course, French fries (I know, I know, this cultural dish was commandeered…). We ate, drank, conversed, and then cut a gigantic congratulatory cake and devoured it. That’s when the dancing begun. It started with some presentations. First a couple’s dance, then a hip-hop group came out and broke it down for two songs. The dance floor was cleared after that and the DJ came out. He spent what felt like the next 15 hours playing the same 6 songs over and over again while the students got funky and the teachers got drunk. Then the students got drunk too. I was done by about 130am (not done like wasted done, done as in I wanted to go home cause it was 130 in the morning and I was tired done). Lucky for me though, the party wasn’t even close to being finished by then. So, instead of drinking more, I decided to take a bunch of pictures and dance. I made a fool of myself for a while trying to show them how it’s done, but only ended up feeling old. Finally, 430am came and it was time to leave. FINALLY.

We didn’t need our head lights as we drove home because the sun was just starting to show its shinny face. I finally climbed into bed around 5am.

Here are some more pictures!