A minha familia hospedeira (My host family)

My host family's house

Salvador and Jaquen helping themselves to my stuff.

My host sisters Olinda and Samaria

Jaquen and Salvador being dorks.

Mamá, Papá and Salvador

I lived with a family of Mozambiquians with which I came to be good friends. When I arrived in Namaacha, we were led to the basketball court at the IFP where all the host mothers were singing, in a chorus, a song in Changana the melody was striking, haunting and beautiful at the same time- it’s the same kind of thing you’d hear at a Mozambiquian lobolo or wedding. We were then set loose to find our host families that were holding up pieces of paper with our names on them. I can’t forget the look of dismay on the other trainees’ faces (mine prolly included, lol); I think reality had set in, just then that we had made our first step into the next 2 years of our lives. My host father (Manuel Mumguambe ~ Papá*) was there to meet me. He greeted me “meu filho” (my son- the title that I maintain to this day when my host family calls).  I climbed into a car- which my papá drove- and we rode down the bumpy street (first to pick up some live chickens from in back of the catholic church) to my bairo (neighborhood) called Villa Pouca which can be described as “lᆔ in relation to  the other bairos. We got out of the car, unpacked my luggage, brought out some plastic lawn chairs and set them up under a tree. I showed my new family the pictures I had brought with me, showing them aspects of my life in the US. They looked at the snowmobiling pictures for a long time. I was then given a flash Portuguese vocabulary lesson and introduced to my siblings and Mamá*: the oldest daughter, Nelia (21), the middle sister, Olinda (19), and her son Jaquen (3), the youngest daughter, Samaria (14), the youngest brother, Salvador (7) and the oldest brother, Fanicio (19). Nelia was around sporadically when Mamá and Papá were away to house sit.  Olinda, who still gives me the typical Mozambiquian “hello, how are you? Oh, good! Bye now!” phone call, liked to cook food and always smiled when I said that it was delicious. Samaria liked late night dancing to the music that the next door barraca blasted almost 24/7. Salvador liked going into my room (sometimes without my permission) and picking up foreign oddities, like my headlamp, guitar and the stuffed wizard that a friend made for me. Jaquen liked to call me “malliquilão”, a three-year-old’s interpretation of mano nicolão*. My host family was instrumental in my PST mostly because they taught me about how things are done in Mozambique. They taught me by example about culture, common practices and gave me strategies for how to survive here (communication in Portuguese, cooking, cleaning, bathing, social conventions, etc.). I felt like a child when I was in Namaacha- cared for and looked after more than a 25-year-old should be, but, being as I was their 4^th PCT, they gave me enough space and leniency to fumble around lighting the carvão(charcoal) to cook, and washing clothes by hand; it just goes to show the prodigious example of Mozambiquian hospitality. My host family still calls me periodically to check up to see how I like my new site. I can’t wait to visit Namaacha once again to visit them.

My host siblings

 *-side note on familial titles in Mozambique: the words Papá, Mamá, mano/a, irmã(o) are used as indicators of status in family as well as titles used within the community meaning “dad”, “mom”, “oldest brother/sister” and “brother/sister” respectively. If I see an older woman in the street and wanted to say hi, I could say “ bom dia, mamá” which is different from the US, in which “mother” or “mom” is reserved for one’s own mommy. This threw me off for the longest time; I faltered to call another man my “father” and cringed when he called me his “son” but I eventually got over it.The sense of community here is incredible- neighborhoods aren’t a series of houses as much as they are a network of buildings in which one family lives. There’s never a fofoca (gossip) that no one knows about and there’s never a lack of someone to confide in here. People go out of their way to make you feel welcome and loved.                                                                                   

†-lá- literally, a demonstrative meaning (over there) but frequently used with emphasis on the vowel to convey the fact that a place is far away or, in this case, very remote~ PCVs here in Mozambique use this term A LOT. This is probably my favorite expression in Mozambiquian Portuguese, because in order to explain where something is, it suffices to point in the general direction and say “lá”. :P