William the Goldfish

Right now I’m a spectacle.  Everyone looks at me, and everyone watches.  They’ll look into my house, they will watch me work in my yard; they’ll watch me walking, buying things in the market, examining street mangoes, talking with randoms, sweeping my floors, or tying my shoes.  I am a goldfish, and Montepuez is my fishbowl. 

Some will return my smiles; some will just stare with empty faces.  Sometimes after our eyes meet  – and this mostly happens with women –they quickly turn away and pick up their pace in an attempt to flee.  It’s as if they’ve just committed a crime or something and need to escape the scene ASAP. No big deal though, I don’t take it personally.  Usually I just write it off as some cultural difference.

When I do encounter people though, and I do often as my town is quite large and my walk to the city is quite far (4 or so kilometers from my house to the market!  Uphill!  In the snow!  With no shoes!...well, I have shoes…and it’s actually way too hot for snow), I look back, wave or give a thumbs up (that’s a big thing here among the youths, those whippersnappers) and usually offer a “Bom dia” or “Salaama” (Salaama is the equivalent to good day in Macua, the local language).  Sometimes they’ll wave, sometimes they’ll stare, and sometimes they’ll shout.  Occasionally, I’ll be called over to a group of people who want to talk. 

Most of the time, they just want to ask me for money or a cigarette.  Lots of people just want a cigarette or money for Pão to feed their bellies.  In reality, the money typically goes to alcohol.  Aside from this country’s inability to control the raging presence of alcoholism in this country, the custom of “Pedir-ing,” or asking for something from another individual, is by far my least favorite things about Mozambican culture.  The fact that it’s so engrained in this culture too is something I’ve been struggling with since I got to site.  I have yet to find out if Mozambicans will actually ask other Mozambicans for stuff, but word on the street is that they do.  It would be hard for me to believe they do it as frequently to each other as they do to me, the white, seemingly rich touristy-looking fellow. 

Occasionally though, I do get the opportunity to have a decent conversation.  I’ll introduce myself, explain what I’m doing there, and tell them that I live in the bairro. They’ll ask where I’m going or something else and I’ll respond.  The conversation will carry on for a bit longer before we end with a shared laughed, a hand-shake and finger snap, and then a farewell (“tchau amigo!”) as I head on my merry way.  A handful of times throughout the duration of my walk, people will greet me in English and ask how I’m doing.  As if it’s been scripted and taught to every single person here (and it probably has, because they all learn English in school), the conversation goes something like this:

Random Mozambican: “Hello my friend!  How are you?”

William: “I’m very well, thank you.  How are you?”

Random Mozambican:  “I am well, thank you.  And you?”

William: “I am also well!” **Gives the Thumbs Up**

No joke, it’s like this every single time. 

My goal here is to eventually blend in (read: Integrate) and not have everyone look at me like I’m a freak.  That’ll happen eventually as I become a more familiar site in the community, but right now, everything I do is stil very, very weird to these people.  I recognize this, yet for some reason I still try and limit the amount of strange I exude on a daily basis.  It’s funny how hesitant I am to do things like hang my underware up on the clothes line, go running, wear shorts, or take my shirt off while working in the yard (though in my defense, that last one might be a cultural faux-pas) ].  In reality, this is probably the perfect time to take advantage of the fact that everything I do is crazy, just throw caution to the wind, and do stuff.  Do anything!

So, here’s to a New Year full of American normalcy and Mozambican oddities.  Normal to me, but strange to them. I just hope no one steals my underware…