Final thoughts on Mozambique

My time in Mozambique felt very short compared to my other placements. 27 days just seemed to go by in a flash and it felt like just when I was getting comfortable and starting to really enjoy it, it was time to say bye. I guess that is testament to the fact that I did have a good time. I know I will miss it. Just wanted to share my final thoughts on my time there

In my first week in Mozambique, I recall one of the project coordinators highlighting the fact that Mozambicans [perhaps she meant the people of Vilanculos] have grown accustomed to a hand-out culture and are more likely to look to someone else for help than sort things out themselves. Apparently this behaviour is the legacy of the aftermath of the civil war that took place there in the early nineties. I thought it an interesting observation and looked to see if I’d ever encounter this behaviour firsthand. Sure enough a couple of weeks later, I was tutoring a young lad who is currently at high school; just helping him polish his spoken English as he was quite good at reading and writing. He’d been given an assignment to write an essay (in English) about his view on the impact of women’s violence on family life – a pretty intense [and rather vague] topic but he had to have it done for a Monday morning deadline, it was Saturday. Being his English tutor, he presented me with his homework and asked that I write it FOR him! I was slightly puzzled; “surely you mean we should discuss it and bounce some ideas around so that YOU can write the essay”, I said. “No” he replied.” You are a woman and I think you are far more qualified than I am to write the essay and you will be doing me a huge favour and saving me from a potential flogging”, he said as though attempting to corner me. “ I don’t think so”, I said. “I’m very happy to talk about the topic with you but I’m definitely not writing your essay for you”. After pulling some pitiful faces and trying to persuade me unsuccessfully, he gave in to the idea of a discussion. I made him jot down some of the things we talked about; we agreed the structure of the essay and how he’d write the introduction and conclusion. It really was the best I could do in terms of help but I left with the distinct impression that he was unhappy that I didn’t readily agree to write the essay for him and that I stood my ground. At our next lesson, I asked how the essay went and got nothing more than a grunt in response

Things on the project did end up improving due to a mixture of change in attitude and perspective on my part and working closely with the other volunteers to make the most of the project. The pedantic over-management however did not change much and for me, came to a head in my last week. It was a Monday and we were due for a planning session that afternoon. I’d pardoned myself for lunch to spend some time updating the blog and catching up on online activity. I set an alarm and foolishly put on my earphones, so clearly did not hear it ring. I looked up and it was 2.15pm; planning commenced at 2.30pm and the camp was a 45-minute walk away at best. I started to make my way as hurriedly as I could and called to say I was going to be late. I was scolded and told to take a taxi instead of walking. I thought that was ridiculous as taxis in Vilanculos are a complete rip-off, plus I didn’t have the phone number for one [they are not the hailing down kind either]. I settled on walking as fast as I could. I got in just after 3.15pm and was issued with a written warning by a rather irate project manager. She looked like she’d been huffing and puffing for a while. This disciplinary action completely ignored the fact that my tardiness had zero effect on the planning session; that there were already 2 or 3 too many people in the session; my sincere apologies were ignored and it went on record that I was late! Was it really necessary?? I couldn’t help but laugh; I signed the written warning and walked [okay maybe stormed] off! The energy that went into the whole process could have been employed doing something far more productive: some of the children at the pre-school have been there for over a year and still hold their pencils like spears; clearly the work that has been done in the past hasn’t helped them pick up the skill of writing and something needs to be done about it. Recently we had a few Europeans join the camp and were tasked to teach English. A few of them couldn’t even string a sentence together, how could they possibly teach someone a language they could barely speak themselves?? There is nothing wrong with these people coming out to volunteer but perhaps other projects need to be started that will cater for these non English speakers that would simultaneously impact the lives of the people of Vilanculos. Again, no energy is being exerted in this regard. Rather more effort is put into policing [and frustrating] volunteers, creating a huge dent in morale. This is not to say that my tardiness was right, but the “punishment” meted out was hardly commensurate, reflecting a lack of focus, in my humble opinion!

Saying goodbye was hard, especially with the children at the pre-school. I’d bonded and/or been amused by several of them so I knew I was going to miss them. My favourite child was a 3-year old called Nina. On my first day at the school, she came over to me and lodged herself firmly in my lap, refusing to leave my side. She doesn’t speak a word of English but I speak it to her all the time (I do that with all the kids, I speak to them like they all speak fluent English and it actually works…okay, maybe my expressions speak more than my words but you get what I’m driving at) and she responds in Shitswa and we have little conversations; it’s quite funny. On my last day, I explained to her that I was leaving and may never see her again (this time I had one of the teachers translate). She looked at me with sad eyes and hugged me tightly. As the truck started to pull out from the schoolyard, I saw tears gather in her eyes and she burst out crying; she hardly cries. Have to say it brought tears to my eyes. Don’t think I can recall a time when anyone cried at the sight of me leaving (okay maybe my mom shed a tear or two at the airport when I left for this trip but she also cried on my first day of school so in my books that doesn’t count). It made me very sad

One of the other more amusing kids is a 2.5 year old called Greusia. She is a self-professed diva! For some reason, her mother thinks it appropriate to clothe her in mini-dresses, which she struts around in with her head held high. She bosses the other children around and seems perfectly content to have her way all the time. Strangely, she only likes to be picked up or held by the male volunteers or teachers; I was convinced she hated women. A couple of the other female volunteers and I, as a joke, decided we’d make changing this something of a mission. We played around her and tickled her even though she made it clear she didn’t like it. Then I started to take photos of her, which she apparently liked. One of the male teachers introduced me to her formally and a week or so later she somehow decided I had passed her cool test. She came up to me, called me by name and indicated that I should be her partner in playing with a skipping rope. Thereafter she started coming up to me and hanging out with me regularly. We all noted the change in her attitude with a lot of amusement. One fine morning, shortly thereafter, I called out to her to come sit next to me and she gave me a look as if to say: “just cause I’ve been nice to you recently doesn’t mean you should get so comfortable, I will come to you if I feel like it”. Sure enough, she came over when she was good and ready! She is something else, that child! If I’m ever back in Vilanculos I will be sure to look her up, just out of curiosity. Lord knows how she will turn out

All in all, Mozambique was a great experience! Great food, beauty all around; in the people, the landscape, the beaches, the brilliantly cloudless blue skies, the sunrises and sunsets, the splendidly starlit nights…all of it. I was grateful for the opportunity to be there even if only for a spell

Afro Jellybaby goes wild in Mozambique!

All work and no play makes Afro Jellybaby a very dull girl, so she takes her playtime very seriously! [how odd is it to speak in 3rd person?] While the project in Vilanculos has been intense, I have tried to use my free time wisely. Allow me to relay my extra curricular activities in my time here

Firstly, I’ve spent every Friday in Vilanculos at a beachfront bar called “Tropical” (very imaginative name huh?) where there has been live music [very good live music I might add] performed by a couple of local guys. On the first Friday, there was a power cut in the area where this bar is located so we listened to live music whilst sat round a fire, facing the Indian ocean. It was fabulous! The music has a jazzy, Brazilian feel to it and the leader of the two-man band is quite the vocalist. Last Monday, we (the other volunteers, the AI staff and I) had the distinct pleasure of running into him at said bar on his day off. He enthralled us with a folktale, complete with drums and music. It was the best entertainment I’ve had in a while; not only was the story hilarious but he was great on the drums and his smile was infectious. I recorded the whole thing and have been tasked to upload the 40-minute video on You-Tube at some stage. I will let you guys know if and when I do

Last Wednesday, I joined three other volunteers to go horseback riding along the beach. I had initially dismissed the idea of doing this as I thought horseback riding was just not my kind of thing. After some convincing by others who had been and absolutely loved it, I decided to give it a try. We arrived at the stable just past midday and after donning appropriate attire and receiving a pep talk on dos and don’ts, we mounted our horses. Mine was a beautiful white horse named Jade. She is the hugest horse I’ve ever seen and very strong. Now, being a newbie and all, you know that all the horseback riding jokes were on me. I was falling over myself when I tried to mount the damn thing and was nearly thrown off in the first few minutes. It took a while for me to get comfortable sitting on it and build my confidence. That said, the ride was amazing, just as I’d been told. We rode along the beach surrounded by scenic views and under the best of weather conditions. The only sad thing is that by the end of my horse riding experience I had acquired a swelling on my left thigh the size of a tennis ball; it’s now morphed into a nicely coloured bruise covering a good part of this thigh. Of course, there is a story behind this lovely memorabile but rather than tell it straight off, I thought I’d let you guys do some guessing. I’ll tell 3 versions of what supposedly happened and will let you decide which version is true

1. Jade and I bonded pretty well. I had a guide leading her for most of the ride. We started off with her walking, then once I was comfortable, we got her to trot. Trotting meant that I was being lifted up and down rhythmically on her back (well, I was bopping up and down with no rhythm at all to start with but kinda got into one after a while). As my confidence grew, we went for a canter (this is a movement by the horse somewhere between a trot and a gallop). I enjoyed this part of the ride but unfortunately Jade ended up throwing me off AND stepping on me. It’s a miracle I survived
2. The story in “1” above is true, only Jade was very well behaved and I even mustered the courage to attempt a gallop. So there I was riding along the beach, the wind in my hair, Jade moving in full, strong gallops and we come upon a log [a pretty big log] and Jade tries to jump over it and sends me flying at full speed onto some random spot on the beach, my leg crashes into a piece of wood lying around, hence the injury. I don’t need to explain the pain I felt there; I had to be picked up before I could get myself together and started limping around
3. The story in “1” above is true, only Jade was very well behaved but I exhausted my confidence so after attempting the canter for about 5 minutes we stuck mostly to walking and trotting. I survived the ride and thought it very enjoyable. I dismounted Jade and gave her a nice big hug and got on my way. We were supposed to meet at a bar near the beach for drinks. En route to the bar, I tried to climb a small fence to get to the main area of this hotel we were going to. I lost my balance, my leg landed on one of the rather pointed pieces of wood that constituted the fence and I fell on the other side almost flat on my face. I pick myself up in a way that suggested that I was totally okay whilst inside I was yelling and crying: “that really hurt”!! The swelling showed itself almost immediately

After the injury related to horse riding, I was minded to have more tame entertainment going forward. On Friday, we took all the children at the pre-school to the beach for a morning of fun, playing and swimming. Walking them to the beach was quite the chore but with a lot of stern instructions, we finally got there. As soon as they saw the ocean, they all stripped off their clothes and ran helter skelter into the water. I really had to stop myself from doing the same, they made it look like fun. I had fun anyway; we were splashing water and chasing each other around in no time. Most of the younger ones don’t actually know how to swim so we stayed in shallow water with them. After a couple of hours of such, we got them dressed and started to head back home. We were stopped by one of the expatriates who lived nearby. She kindly offered to give the children some squash and biscuits after their morning at the beach. They were most appreciative of her gesture and devoured everything she laid out in no time! It was the best time I’d had with the children

On Saturday night, we had dinner at one of the higher-end restaurants in town. We were joining one of the volunteers in celebrating her birthday (I’m always amazed at how many September-borns there are wherever I go; it seems my volunteer camp is filled with them, myself included of course). After dinner, one of the girls and I decided we were spending the night sleeping on the deck by the pool. The moon was full, the stars were shining brightly (all 10 of them – for some reason there aren’t that many stars these days) and we had promised each other that we’d spend at least one night sleeping outdoors when the moon was full and we’d get up early and watch the sun rise. It was a splendid night; we put on some music and stayed up for a while just admiring the brilliance surrounding us. We slept right through the night and woke up at 5am covered in dew but surprisingly not at all cold. The sunrise shortly thereafter was exquisite and totally worth it. Wish I’d made more of the 3 nights with the full moon and spent them all sleeping on the deck

Yesterday, a couple of the other volunteers and I joined a group of tourists on a boat trip to one of the nearby islands for a day of swimming, snorkeling and relaxing on the beach. Mozambique has these lovely small islands scattered around its coast. Some of them are known to be honeymoon destinations and come with all the mod cons for such an occasion and are known to be very pricey. We went to one more fit for simpletons like us. The volunteers I went with are two American ladies who I’ve bonded with very well with, so we had a barrel of laughs and good conversations for the duration of the trip. The island was quite secluded so my gal-pals and I soon found a quiet spot to swim, play and chat. After some rest [I find I usually have a strong urge to sleep after a good swim], we had a lovely lunch with the rest of the group. We then picked up our snorkeling gear and got down to business. The visibility was not great at that time of the day but we made the most of it. I saw a lot of fish but since I’m hardly an expert in this area I cannot name a single one. They were beautiful, multi-coloured and of all sizes. The trip back to the mainland was spiced up when the crew gave out bowls of freshly made popcorn! Yes, that’s right! They made popcorn on the boat, salted it and handed it out. It was surreal. When we got back to shore, my gal-pals and I retired to a nearby bar for drinks and a chill-out session. We invited a young lady we met on the boat who was staying in one of the resorts along the beach. She was truly amazing. She works for the World Bank as an economist, has traveled and worked in about 73 countries in the world, over 20 in Africa. She was obviously incredibly intelligent, very down-to-earth and a great conversationalist. We were reticent to return to the camp after about an hour of talking with her but the sun was going down and we had to respect one of our house rules: “no walking around town at night”. It was a great day!

I now have exactly a week left in Mozambique. I plan to take a few days off towards the end of the week and head further down the coast to the lovely beach town of Tofo for more swimming, snorkeling and relaxation. I’ll need it before I start my next project in Zambia early next week

Mozambique thus far

Two weeks into my stay in Vilanculos [and Mozambique] and I’m trying hard to ignore the fact that time is flying and I’m nearly half way through my trip…yikes!! This feeling is precariously balanced with the desire to stay in the moment AND fondly reminisce on some of the good times I’ve had (yes, it might be a tad early for that sort of activity but that’s me). Anyway let me get to the point and update you on Mozambique

Vilanculos is beautiful [if I haven’t mentioned that already] and in my free time, I will usually be found taking a walk through the village/town or strolling along the beach, my camera strung around my neck and just taking in the sights. The people are very friendly and in typical African style, greet me with warm, ready smiles. I do get Portuguese or Shitswa (the local dialect) thrown at me on a regular basis and I respond where I can or end up conversing in a strange fusion of English and Portuguese. Day-in, day-out we are driven to the various activities for the project. The truck that is used to transport us is very much like a dala-dala with a higher roof and therefore better ventilation. We are in clear view to pedestrians when sat at the back and usually get waved at or chased by the local children. Unfortunately, I’ve been blessed with one of those names that are just too easy to forget. Added to that is the fact that I’m apparently the first African volunteer to grace the shores of Vilanculos. It is consequently not uncommon to see the kids (some of whom I teach) pointing at me, screaming my name, waving vigorously or yelling out a greeting in English. My non-attention-seeking self is apt to cringe and duck down covering my head, muttering “Oh God, no!” [or something like that]; instead I don a nervous smile and wave back. The other volunteers find it quite amusing; “you should be glad you are a celebrity”, they say. “Err, no thanks!”

Strolling along the beach, I usually find fishermen/women hard at work. Some of the women also collect shells along the beach and sell them to tourists and such, I’m guessing. The children like to go swimming and choose to do so in the nude. They play games, chasing each other up and down the beach once they are done swimming, again in the nude. Its funny, especially when I think of Zanzibar and how the children there went swimming fully clothed cause theirs was a strictly Muslim society. Other than gallivanting around the township, I‘ve not done much else by way of leisure activity (except reading, of course). I do have a few things planned for the rest of my time here so you will hear about them soon enough

Life on the project has improved substantially in the last week or so. We (the volunteers) soon pointed out the obvious futility of complaining about the project and management style (see my last post if you need to refresh your memory) and we thought rather than channel our energy in this negative way, we’d make a list of things of things we disliked and suggest ways of improving them, then have a chat with our “managers”. We did exactly that, and surprisingly, it was all very well received. Some of the ideas are under implementation as I speak. It also turns out that children in Mozambique are not expected to know anything prior to entering the mainstream education system [quite bizarre] so the learning experience being garnered at the pre-school is quite a plus for the children who attend. This of course does not mean that a mediocre job should be done of educating them and it was with this in mind that we made some suggestions on what could be done to better the status quo. In terms of the controlling nature of the management style, we expressed our displeasure in a diplomatic way but I think it will take some time for the improvement in that area to come to bear

The pre-school has a small playground with a swing and a wooden structure for climbing. I have appointed myself as the swing pusher and during playtime, I religiously make my way to the swing to perform my duties. The children love the swing and they fall over each other to take turns riding it. Needless to say, there is the occasional tearful outburst or need for adult intervention lest someone gets beaten up. That is what I’m there for. I have to confess another motive: I secretly want to be 5 again and ride on the swing. I loved it so much as a child, especially that feeling of getting so high that it’s like you are flying. So, one morning, while the kids were having their meal, I made one of the other volunteers push me on the swing – gosh, it was better than I remembered; I was hollering and laughing the whole time; fun!!!

I have to say that I’ve jelled very well with the volunteer group here, probably better than others encountered on the trip so far. I’ve even met some bankers who took time off work to volunteer and were very dedicated and passionate about the work. We’ve spent a few evenings as a group watching the stars, joking around or sharing our life experiences while sat around a fire. One thing that I’ve also been very impressed by, in terms of other volunteers (and this is not limited to my Mozambique experience), is encountering young people, aged 18 – 19 who have all been very mature, positive and dedicated to the work at hand. Volunteering (certainly in the format that we’ve chosen) is not cheap so its refreshing to see that they choose to spend their money thus, rather than join the host of teenagers who indulge in impulsive buying, binge drinking and other such juvenile activity. The most impressive was an 18-year-old American girl I lived and worked with in Nairobi. Her parents were adamant that she learnt the importance of independence from an early age so she’d had a job as a baby-sitter since age 12 and the only thing her parents paid for were her accommodation, food and expenses related to education. She’d saved for the Kenya trip for a few years because she wanted to have the experience before starting her nursing degree this fall. She was incredibly hardworking, very mature and just a brilliant person

It also has to be said that Mozambique has, hands down, the best food I’ve eaten in a while. Our chefs at the camp are particularly well gifted and it seems that anything they touch just tastes magical. The ingredients are always fresh, exquisitely well cooked and I really have to stop myself from going for seconds and even thirds. The waistline is getting seriously out of hand, I confess. The restaurants in town are also very guilty in this regard, even the worst of them. The staple food in Mozambique is Nshima (made from maize meal and cooked into a mixture that looks something like mashed potato). It’s usually eaten with matapa (a sort of stew made from cassava leaves, peanut butter and some spices); it’s very tasty. My ex-housemate is Zambian and she often cooked Nshima for us at home so it isn‘t that foreign to me; I usually wash my hands and dig right in. Some of the Europeans struggle with it, understandably, and watch in wonder as I eat [with gusto] this “strange” food with my hands

One of the few woes of life in Vilanculos is the presence of sand fleas! These sneaky creatures are so tiny that it is impossible to detect them as they avariciously burrow their way through one’s flesh, usually feet. Once under your skin, they lays eggs and vegetate – truly revolting things, I tell you! In an effort to protect myself, I have been wearing socks constantly, with shoes and even flip-flops (which makes me look very retarded but hey, it has to be done). I have [touching wood vigorously here] luckily not had any of them enter my body yet. Unfortunately the only way to get them out once in is good old-fashioned surgery – and I’m talking the get-a-sharp-object-and-dig-your-flesh-till-you-reach-them-type surgery! I pray I don’t have to experience that ever! It does not look like fun

And on that bright note, I have to head off. The beach is calling!

The Vilanculos project

One dual advantage and disadvantage of having volunteer experience at this stage of my travels, is that I’ve unwittingly developed expectations. I can’t help but feed on my experiences in the 11 weeks prior to arriving in Vilanculos and this has undoubtedly shaped my view of things. That said, I have tried to maintain some objectivity in the views I'm about to share with you

First off, let me lay out what the schedule for a typical week looks like:
• Monday: 6.45am: wake up, get ready, have breakfast; 7.45 – 11am: teaching at the pre-school; 11am – 2.30pm: return to camp for lunch and rest; 2.30 – 5pm: planning session for adult English class; 5 – 6.30pm: return to camp for rest; 6.30pm: dinner time; 9pm: lights out (the generator is turned off; its pitch black so all you will be doing is sleeping at this stage)
• Tuesday: 6.45am: wake up, get ready, have breakfast; 7.45 – 11am: teaching at the pre-school; 11am – 2.30pm: return to camp for lunch and rest; 2.30 – 5pm: teaching adults English; 5 – 6.30pm: return to camp for rest; 6.30pm: dinner time; 9pm: lights out
• Wednesday: 6.45am: wake up, get ready, have breakfast; 7.45 – 11am: teaching at the pre-school; Time off to spend as one pleases; 6.30pm: dinner time; 9pm: lights out
• Thursday: 6.45am: wake up, get ready, have breakfast; 7.45 – 11am: teaching at the pre-school; 11am – 2.30pm: lunch and work on building project (we are building a house for one of the local guys who helps around at the school); 2.30 – 5pm: planning session for informal English tutoring held on Saturday mornings and outline play activities for the children at a local orphanage we visit on Saturday afternoons; 5 – 6.30pm: rest; 6.30pm: dinner time; 9pm: lights out
• Friday: 6.45am: wake up, get ready, have breakfast; 7.45 – 11am: teaching at the pre-school; 11am – 2.30pm: return to camp for lunch and rest; 2.30 – 5pm: teaching adults English; 5 – 6.30pm: return to camp for rest; 6.30pm: dinner time; 9pm: lights out
• Saturday: 7.45am: wake up, get ready, have breakfast; 9am: teaching English in an informal setting to local kids in the neighbourhood; 11am - 12.30: return to camp for rest and lunch; 12.30 – 2.30pm: planning for teaching at pre-school; 3 – 5pm: playing with children at local orphanage; 5 – 6.30pm: return to camp for rest; 6.30pm: dinner time; 9pm: lights out
• Sunday: WHOLE DAY FREE; you can usually eat when you feel like it and dinner is about the only scheduled thing on this day (well that and lights out)

The pre-school was started by locals and AI works in conjunction with local teachers to run it. There are about 60 odd children aged 2 – 5 who for the most part speak no English, little Portuguese and a lot of Shitswa (the local language in Vilanculos). Communicating with them is therefore quite the challenge; for me it’s usually a mixture of hand gestures, pidgin Portuguese and facial expressions – it sort of works. The local teachers do try to mediate a lot of the time, but of course they are not always around so one needs to improvise in those circumstances. What I find most frustrating about working at the school is that I feel the children are not actually learning anything. Some of them have been in the school for well over a year and have only been taught to count to 10 in English and Portuguese; can say the alphabet and that is about it. We only teach for 45 minutes out of the 3 hours or so that we are there and we spend the rest of the time playing with them. That is not to say that the children don’t learn as they play but I feel they don’t seem to know much at all. Of course I admit comparing them to the kids in encountered at TAPA in Kenya, where 3.5 year old Bravin could count and write 1 – 100 in English, knew the alphabet and was well on his way to learning how to read in Swahili and English. I’m not aware of the standard children in Mozambique need to be at before they enter the mainstream education system. Perhaps there is no expectation that they know anything at all, in which case our work at the school is giving these children something over and above what others their age will have. If that is not the case, then clearly we need to rethink how much of an impact our work is having. On the positive side of things, I'm told that since AI started working at the school, the children no longer get hit by the teachers; there is actually a naughty corner just outside the school with a drawing of an unhappy smiley face on the wall and the naughty ones are sent there as punishment - they hate it! We also cook food for the children each day (I'm told that may well be the most decent meal some of them will get; its usually spiced rice with vegetables) and provide first aid treatment

As was the case in Zanzibar, I thoroughly enjoy teaching the adults English. The coordinators here have already done a good job of splitting the class into beginners and advanced and I’ve been assigned to the beginners' class, admittedly more challenging. We however usually have a translator who helps facilitate the learning process and the students are also very keen to learn. The experience is also helping me to pick up some Portuguese, which does no harm at all. From what I’m told, the advanced class is also a very keen lot and the volunteers who teach that class, thoroughly enjoy it too. Thumbs up all around

The informal English class held near the camp on Saturday mornings also tends to be good fun. This is just a way to reach out to the local community and help them pick up the language. Fun games and learning activities are usually the order of the day for these sessions. The age range is 2 to 25 and we split them up into age groups for teaching purposes. I really enjoy it; I was with the younger kids last Saturday and we had fun learning all about apparel. Some of them are learning English in school so hopefully the supplementary practice they get with us will help them learn the language faster

The orphanage we visit on Saturday afternoons is a bit out of town. We take along a lot of toys and games to play with the children. They were good fun last Saturday though again, the language barrier limits the extent of the benefits of our interaction. Some of the older kids use this “play” time effectively by practicing their English with us. They were all lovely children and seem to be well cared for; all in school and one got the sense that they lived more like a family, looking out for each other

You may have noticed the emphasis that seems to be placed on planning in this project. The time slots dedicated to planning CANNOT be used for anything else and we are expected to brainstorm and come up with fun, creative ways of teaching during these times. In theory, I think this approach makes sense, in practice, I don’t think it always hold true. I’ve had no teaching experience prior to the last 12 weeks but I find that having a plan does work in setting the scene or tone of a class but what ends up being taught sometimes is driven by the need of the students more than anything else. This is especially true for the adult education classes where we don’t follow a set curriculum and have no milestones to be achieved over a fixed timeframe (unless self-imposed). Our planning is detailed, to the extent that we write out exactly what we are going to do in the classes and fall short of jotting down a minute-to-minute plan of events. It seems rather over the top. Aside from the feeling of being pigeonholed, it takes away part of the fun that the experience is supposed to bring, I find. The ladies who run the show in this project are also very strict with time keeping and with the least provocation, issue written warnings, etc. We are not allowed to take any time off from the project to do anything else, regardless of whether this has little or no effect on how smoothly things run. Its almost like being in secondary school again, I mean Catholic boarding school here! After free styling in Kenya for 7 weeks, this is a tad too far the other end of the spectrum and while I’m trying to not let it get to me, I have to admit that I’m struggling. I also know I’m not being ridiculous here cause it seems the other volunteers share my displeasure about this side of things. I’m told feedback has been given but clearly it's not radically altering the state of things

Even if things don’t improve in a few areas on the project in the coming weeks, I’m sure I will still leave with a sense of achievement. At the very least, I will know the Mozambique national anthem by heart as we sing it at the pre-school every single morning!