Saturday, November 27, 2010
Monday, November 22, 2010
MAN WHO LIKES ALL FOOD FINDS FOOD HE HATES! AND ONE HE LOVES!
The sun had just broken through the morning clouds in Mahuline, Localidade Nivava. As the 8 farmers came in from the field, having staked and cleared a 50’ x 100’ section, they gathered in the shade of one of the bamboo outbuildings of Mr Pequininho Jose, President of the 25 de Junho Farmers’ Association. The meeting was closed with a few words by Mr Zachary D. O’Donnell, locally known as Zacarias, Zaca, Zicas, Tio Zaca, Chefe, Boss, Aquele Branco, Macunha, and Chuck Norris. The next meeting was set, work log books were signed and thanks were given. At that moment an elder leaned over the Zaca, who was gathering his things for departure, and explained that a small meal had been prepared. Tio Zaca obliged and settled in for what was to come though he should have settled in a bit more.
On the small table in front of him a vinyl Coca-Cola tablecloth was spread and glass were set next to a pitcher of water straight from the well. The elder farmers’ retired to the shade of a tree where they would be served. Zicas barely noticed this, as it is an immutable part of the deal. He along with his driver sat waiting. Along came Mama (Mrs. Pequininho Jose) with 2 covered plates. The larger showed piles of stiff white cornmeal porridge sneaking off the edges. The other was clearly meat and instantaneously Aquele Branco assumed, guiltly, that the Joses had killed a chicken for him. Mama put the plates down on the Coca-Cola logo and unveiled the porridge and what was definitely not chicken. Without asking Boss saw what must be the leg bones of a small pig; the tough black skin, wisps of burnt hairs, and dark fatty meat all attested to this. Then simultaneously as Chefe noticed the long curled nails of an unfamiliar claw on his food, President Pequininho cheerfully announced that they can managed to get some gigantic bush rat meat at the market. Chuck Norris was not happy, so he nodded and thanked the host. Chuck Norris is known for eating many things. In fact Chuck Norris once was so hungry that he bit through his own tongue. He stroked his beard once and picked up a fork. On first bite, Chuck wished he could return to the ignorance of 5min prior and just be eating some bad pork. He would not have that pleasure.
Big bites, lots of porridge and lots of water got the job done, that and some sly tosses to the waiting dogs. Somewhere mid gnaw on a tough piece of hair-accented skin, Zach decided that there is indeed food in this world that he does not like. Brussel sprouts sounded just dandy right about then.
Zacarias is also known to many as one who enjoys pleasing others, so upon finishing his pile he kindly obliged that his coworker should finish off the remaining meat. “Really,” he said “I’m full. You must eat it for me.” Such kindness. The coworker picking up on his discomfort commented, “You’re not fond of the porridge are you?”
That was that. President Pequininho came over and thanked Zicas once again for coming out to their field. Zicas thanked them for meal but begged that they not feel obliged to feed him every time he visited (40% sincere).
The Driver and Mr O’Donnell got in the old Land Cruiser pickup truck which the organization has assigned to him and bumped away back towards town. It did not take Tio Zaca too many bumps to understand that the only thing he possibly liked worse that boiled bush rat is boiled-bush-rat-burps and bush-rat-breath. A stop was made minutes later and a piece of American mint gum was scrounged out of his bag. He offered a piece to his driver in the exact casualness that the action assumes. And they bounced on down the road.
The bounces led to the residence and school owned by a small group of Marist Brothers, where Mr. Zaca wanted to stop, visit, and inquire about some pigs. The Brothers welcomed him openly and gave him a brief tour. Pigs, goats, rabbits, sheep, cows, and guinea pigs – all for sale and all for dinner. An older Portuguese Brother joined the tour and soon made a pointing reference to coffee. Macunha was certain his Portuguese had failed him so he asked again. The Brother led him to a grove of trees, “coffee”; coffee trees, 7,000 of them. The country of Mozambique is not known for their coffee production or even consumption. Actually 98% people’s concept of coffee is an instant powder that is best with equal parts sugar. Except for a few places in the national capital, you cannot even buy anything but instant. Coffee? “It’s not for sale, it’s for us” the older Brother continued. The whole process was explained; picking, drying, splitting roasting, grinding. Chuck Norris’ jaw dropped and out came another beard, the jaw on which also dropped. The older Brother disappeared into their residence and returned with two large bags, one with whole beans and one with grounds. Tio Zaca’s nose disappeared into one of them. “Do you have a grinder in your house?” asked the older Brother. Aquele Branco stuttered out a ‘no’ and then found in his hands 2 pounds of ground coffee. Chuck Norris was very happy and bounced on home.
On the small table in front of him a vinyl Coca-Cola tablecloth was spread and glass were set next to a pitcher of water straight from the well. The elder farmers’ retired to the shade of a tree where they would be served. Zicas barely noticed this, as it is an immutable part of the deal. He along with his driver sat waiting. Along came Mama (Mrs. Pequininho Jose) with 2 covered plates. The larger showed piles of stiff white cornmeal porridge sneaking off the edges. The other was clearly meat and instantaneously Aquele Branco assumed, guiltly, that the Joses had killed a chicken for him. Mama put the plates down on the Coca-Cola logo and unveiled the porridge and what was definitely not chicken. Without asking Boss saw what must be the leg bones of a small pig; the tough black skin, wisps of burnt hairs, and dark fatty meat all attested to this. Then simultaneously as Chefe noticed the long curled nails of an unfamiliar claw on his food, President Pequininho cheerfully announced that they can managed to get some gigantic bush rat meat at the market. Chuck Norris was not happy, so he nodded and thanked the host. Chuck Norris is known for eating many things. In fact Chuck Norris once was so hungry that he bit through his own tongue. He stroked his beard once and picked up a fork. On first bite, Chuck wished he could return to the ignorance of 5min prior and just be eating some bad pork. He would not have that pleasure.
Big bites, lots of porridge and lots of water got the job done, that and some sly tosses to the waiting dogs. Somewhere mid gnaw on a tough piece of hair-accented skin, Zach decided that there is indeed food in this world that he does not like. Brussel sprouts sounded just dandy right about then.
Zacarias is also known to many as one who enjoys pleasing others, so upon finishing his pile he kindly obliged that his coworker should finish off the remaining meat. “Really,” he said “I’m full. You must eat it for me.” Such kindness. The coworker picking up on his discomfort commented, “You’re not fond of the porridge are you?”
That was that. President Pequininho came over and thanked Zicas once again for coming out to their field. Zicas thanked them for meal but begged that they not feel obliged to feed him every time he visited (40% sincere).
The Driver and Mr O’Donnell got in the old Land Cruiser pickup truck which the organization has assigned to him and bumped away back towards town. It did not take Tio Zaca too many bumps to understand that the only thing he possibly liked worse that boiled bush rat is boiled-bush-rat-burps and bush-rat-breath. A stop was made minutes later and a piece of American mint gum was scrounged out of his bag. He offered a piece to his driver in the exact casualness that the action assumes. And they bounced on down the road.
The bounces led to the residence and school owned by a small group of Marist Brothers, where Mr. Zaca wanted to stop, visit, and inquire about some pigs. The Brothers welcomed him openly and gave him a brief tour. Pigs, goats, rabbits, sheep, cows, and guinea pigs – all for sale and all for dinner. An older Portuguese Brother joined the tour and soon made a pointing reference to coffee. Macunha was certain his Portuguese had failed him so he asked again. The Brother led him to a grove of trees, “coffee”; coffee trees, 7,000 of them. The country of Mozambique is not known for their coffee production or even consumption. Actually 98% people’s concept of coffee is an instant powder that is best with equal parts sugar. Except for a few places in the national capital, you cannot even buy anything but instant. Coffee? “It’s not for sale, it’s for us” the older Brother continued. The whole process was explained; picking, drying, splitting roasting, grinding. Chuck Norris’ jaw dropped and out came another beard, the jaw on which also dropped. The older Brother disappeared into their residence and returned with two large bags, one with whole beans and one with grounds. Tio Zaca’s nose disappeared into one of them. “Do you have a grinder in your house?” asked the older Brother. Aquele Branco stuttered out a ‘no’ and then found in his hands 2 pounds of ground coffee. Chuck Norris was very happy and bounced on home.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
The Houseplant
Raise your hand if you have ever had one of those houseplants that just always pulled through regardless of your schedule; just hung on being a persistent little guy even though you forgot all about it. In fact that day you saw it again for the first time, you had sworn to yourself that you had thrown that thing out. Then out of a nagging obligation, and maybe a bit of Catholic-guilt, you dumped a bunch of water on it and a bit of plant you found back under your sink; so much that it leaked out the bottom and across the floor. This plant belongs to all of us; it just so happens that in my house in New Orleans this plant is named George.
On pretty much a daily basis I look at where I am and whom I am working with and wonder how it got this way and what it really will take to bring this place up to speed. Then I look around and notice all the white pickups with USAID sponsorship logos, the World Food Program contracts, and the hay-sized bales of used clothing, donated to local organizations by the generous and purging alike not realizing that their “I’m a blonde on the inside!” tank top may one day be for sale in a Mozambican market. I cannot say that I am always positive that what we are doing, what I am doing, is the right way to do it. Sometimes it’s hard to see the path that begins here and ends in knee-deep opportunities, infrastructure, and a middle class. Sometimes I feel like this is the forgotten houseplant.
What I do know is that habits are hard to break. Independence came to this region for the most part 35-40 years ago. Those born into self-rule now have kids, if not grandkids. These kids have been raised under the umbrella of international aide. They have known no other existence. For them aide will always be there; it is it’s purpose. I have met veteran farmers who have never purchased their own seed, nor have they ever saved seed; it has always been given to them by somebody. I am not saying that all aide should be retracted tomorrow. But why does the Iraq War get a pullout plan but here doesn’t?
On pretty much a daily basis I look at where I am and whom I am working with and wonder how it got this way and what it really will take to bring this place up to speed. Then I look around and notice all the white pickups with USAID sponsorship logos, the World Food Program contracts, and the hay-sized bales of used clothing, donated to local organizations by the generous and purging alike not realizing that their “I’m a blonde on the inside!” tank top may one day be for sale in a Mozambican market. I cannot say that I am always positive that what we are doing, what I am doing, is the right way to do it. Sometimes it’s hard to see the path that begins here and ends in knee-deep opportunities, infrastructure, and a middle class. Sometimes I feel like this is the forgotten houseplant.
What I do know is that habits are hard to break. Independence came to this region for the most part 35-40 years ago. Those born into self-rule now have kids, if not grandkids. These kids have been raised under the umbrella of international aide. They have known no other existence. For them aide will always be there; it is it’s purpose. I have met veteran farmers who have never purchased their own seed, nor have they ever saved seed; it has always been given to them by somebody. I am not saying that all aide should be retracted tomorrow. But why does the Iraq War get a pullout plan but here doesn’t?
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Monday, November 1, 2010
More photos and all with captions......
Thank you all (except Tony D'Alessio) for being patient as I worked to get captions on that mess of pictures I posted. Now on the right sidebar there are the most recent images. Click on any image to get to other albums. There currently about 200 photos and the albums also should be linked to a Google map.
Also, my office just got internet today, so the days of blogging from my phone are hopefully no longer the norm.
Also, my office just got internet today, so the days of blogging from my phone are hopefully no longer the norm.
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