Sharing Peanuts: Is it sustainable?

Avalino - using leftover scrap pieces of wood from our many yard projects this 7th grader built his own chair in my backgyard! He sits reading a book in the shade of a cashew tree to pass the afternoon heat

March 29, 2018

Today I’m writing about the poor and oppressed. I’ll be writing about compassion and darkness. I’ll wrap things up with a brief update on life here and how things are going.

A few months back I was in Pemba about to catch a flight to Maputo. I just had breakfast at a reasonable priced café – espresso, bottle of water, and an omelette with French fries for about 7 USD, an affordable price on my current living stipend. Before I catch any flight out of Pemba I have a routine: I arrive at the bus station in pemba and grab a transfer to the café near the Teacher Training School for a nice breakfast, go back up to the bus station across the street from the airport, buy some peanuts and bananas, and then head into the airport to check-in. On this specific sunny and overly sticky day (thank you humidity!), I pass a young boy as I’m walking past the fence for the airport parking.

Asking for food and money is a normalcy in many cities, and as an apparent foreigner or just someone with enough finances to catch a flight, that makes even more people in Pemba ask for some money or food. I have two main strategies – say hi and then in Makua say “I don’t want to give you my money” OR just ignore the person, no eye contact, no greeting, no acknowledgement of their presence. When I use some Makua, most people just start laughing and shouting back more Makua phrases. The request for money gets lost in the novelty of a foreigner who learned some of the local language.

Ignoring someone completely is a practice I abhorred in the States. I thought it degraded people by not even recognizing their humanity. In Mozambique, eye contact with a vendor means “YES I WANT TO BUY. COME TO ME!” So I quickly learned not to look at vendors I was interested in – I don’t like being hassled so I’ll try to sneak some glances with my peripheral vision. Oftentimes, I still feel guilty when I completely ignore someone here. I try not to do it as much anymore. Especially since I now speak some Makua I don’t need to ignore people – I can acknowledge their presence and have learned how to reject their request in polite but cultural acceptable ways.

So jumping back to the airport – I’m crossing the sidewalk and about to enter the gate of the airport. A young boy is walking on the sidewalk in front of the main fence heading in the general direction of the bus station. I’m eating some of my freshly roasted and purchased peanuts. The boy is clearly just walking passed – he’s not begging or trying to get things out of people. He takes one glance at the peanuts in my bag and I can see it in his eyes – hunger. Being here long enough, you see what hunger looks like. You notice how different someone’s personality is when they’re hungry. I keep walking and enter the airport parking lot. Then I pause. I stop. He’s hungry. I have so many more peanuts than I need. I always buy more than I need – I figure I’ll run into someone I know or another PCV and share some. I turn around and sure enough the boy is still walking but watching me. I signal to him to come to me and give him a heaping handful of peanuts. He is very grateful and thanks me.

Oftentimes we turn off the compassionate parts of ourselves – I do it and I’ve done it. It’s easier to face pain, suffering, hungry, and desolation when we barely acknowledge it. It’s really easy to say, “I can’t give out food, I can’t give out money, that wouldn’t be sustainable!” And yes, that’s not sustainable. It comes back to the “Give a man a fish, feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, feed him for a lifetime”. Great proverb and I love the idea of building sustainable programs that endure overtime. It’s similar to building and studying great companies – I’m thinking about Built to Last by James Collins: those rare companies, systems, and structures that last beyond the founders lifetime.

However, I also take issue with the oversimplified and overuse of the fish proverb. Here’s the issue I face: I have a fishing pole and a lake with fish in it. My community has no fishing pole, no bait, and no lake with fish. Depending on what program or aspect of my community we’re specifically discussing, maybe they have a Lake but no fish and no pole, maybe they have the pole and bait but no lake with fish. The problem remains that the knowledge of how to fish is not the only barrier. Additionally, it’s nearly impossible to learn anything on an empty stomach. Even the best of teachers would struggle in teaching how to fish if all of their students haven’t eaten in the last 24-plus hours. So, would it not make more sense to give a man a fish AND teach him how to fish AND then determine if the man even has a fishing pole, bait, and a lake with fish in it?

I don’t have a solution or know the answer. However, here’s what I’m going to do: when I cross paths with a young boy who is hungry and I’m snacking away at peanuts -  I’m not going to hesitate or think about, I’ll just give the kid some dang peanuts. It’s not sustainable. It doesn’t solve any issue or anything long term in the boys life. Maybe it creates dependency, maybe it doesn’t. Either way, at least to some extent I have a moral obligation to – at a bare minimum – give of my excess to prevent the pain and suffering of a fellow human being.

Last Saturday we did a workday at my house. For dinner I cooked a chicken and a large vat of French Fries. I knew there was not enough chicken for myself, my sitemate, my housemate, and the 4 boys who helped me that day. I did what I felt like I ought to do. I served my sitemate and housemate and gave the remaining chicken to the boys as they watched “The Incredible Hulk” in Portuguese. It’s rare that families have meat. It’s even more rare for there to be enough meat for it to be a main portion of the meal.

I don’t know what the “best” thing to do is. I don’t know if it’s smart giving out free peanuts or treating the boys to a nicer meal. Part of our responsibility as PCVs is to start projects that can continue after us.  

If we do our jobs correctly, we can pass on what we’ve learned to community members who can continue what we started. I don’t think my community truly needs me. They need food, clean water, etc. Here’s the big difference – I think they need food, water, clothes for school, more access to quality healthcare, and the likes. But here’s what my community members are saying they do and do not need – they don’t say they need more chicken or vegetables or life saving medicine. They say they need Jobs, energy, and a TV. It’s no wonder people only take enough of their malaria medication until they start feeling better (unfortunately this leads to drug resistance). Then the can save the extra pills for the future or sell them or give them to family.

People here are constantly complaining about the lack of jobs. I used to think it was amazing how so many families have small scale businesses! They make badjias (bean patties kind of) and corn based drinks to sell in the market, they collect firewood from the bush to sell in town, they plant peanuts to sell and send their kids to school, they raise chickens and pigs as investment and savings tools. However, these same families still say they want their kids to have jobs – not start entrepreneurial adventures. At first, that seems from anti-cultural to me. We regard entrepreneurs as these people with unique, special, and creative gifts! People willing to risk a lot to gain a lot.

Here, people want stability and safety. They want to work for a regular income so they can buy food themselves, not be freely given food. Lastly, they want energy and a TV. There’s a lot of downtime here and not a lot to do. People want ways to be entertained and to fill there time.

Overall, our American culture should be screaming “They have the perfect attitudes!!” They want work not handouts (yes there are still plenty of people begging for handouts, but our cities are no different). I see lots of opportunities for business development in my local town – the Peanut Butter is just one. Someone could easily start a coconut farm. There’s plenty of land and the climate is just right. 30 acres would be enough to do coconut oil or butter. It’d be relatively low cost of investment with a decent payoff if you had enough to supply to a company in Europe (coconut could be replicated with any handful of tropical plants that can be used to extract oil – Moringa for example). Locally, there’s a need for more vegetable farmers in my town. Vegetables are extremely seasonal here. A 60 meter well, some drip irrigation lines, and blight-resistant seeds and you could be off to the races by cultivating a product for the local market. Build up to 10-15-plus acres and you’d be able to supply other networks in the northern region of Mozambique. CHICKENS! The frozen chickens in Namuno are imported from Nampula and even South Africa. They travel anywhere from 500 to over 1000 km to reach Namuno. You’d need a regular supply of chicks, some land to grow soya and corn (so you can make your own feed), and a bi-yearly trip to Nampula to buy supplements for your feed. Another local market opportunity that would easily expand to the northern region of Mozambique where there are not enough chicken farms. Lastly, a chicken-egg farm! Eggs up here cost 10-12 mets per whereas in the south of Mozambique they are 6-7 mets per. The north has no large scale egg producer. Yet again, another local market waiting for someone to tap into.

Overall, I think there’s plenty of opportunity. There are also plenty of barriers and issues, don’t get me wrong. After being in Mozambique for 18+ months now, here is what I think they really need: a few people willing to invest money and live here for a few years to start some businesses.

Update –

Overall, life for me has been on the up and up the last month-plus. I wake up early, 5-5:30 AM, make some coffee, and read for two hours. Then I workout for two hours. I shower and head off to teach at the high school. After morning classes, I come back home and work for a bit – grading, lesson planning, finishing a project in the yard, dishes, or laundry (never a shortage of tasks!). I take a nap at 1 PM for 30 minutes, prepare for my next class and go teach. Afterwards, I come back and work on a project in the yard, spend some time at the Peanut Butter association, or read my book. So far this year I’ve become a book fiend and it feels amazing!! Dinner, cleaning up the backyard, and I’m in bed by around 7:30 PM. Some more light reading for an hour or so and I flip the switch to bed!

Maybe for some people it sounds like a boring routine. I love it. There’s plenty of adventure mixed into my life – for example I randomly met the judge of my district the last time I was in pemba! He said we need to have drinks and spend time together while in Namuno – unfortunetly all of his family lives in Pemba but he is only allowed to leave Namuno once or twice a month. So he said he gets pretty lonely in Namuno. Locals tend to be afraid or extremely polite of people with high respective positions. So, no family and few people in the town who want to sit and drink with him. At the end of the day, I think we’re all a bit lonely at least. What really sucks is when you are alone feeling lonely. It’s better to be with people knowing that you’re all feeling a bit lonely.

May we all continue to carry the audacity for hope that we CAN and WILL build a better future.

With all of my heart,

~Daniel

P.S. I’ll be back in the Seattle area in the beginning of June for my sister’s wedding. Shoot me a message if you’ll have time to kick it!

Stories from Mozambique, Eastern Africa -WHY

February 28th, 2018

I fundamentally disagree with President Trump questioning WHY we should allow immigrants from African nations, Haiti, and other less developed/educated nations into the United States of America. He is correct in stating that many nations in Africa are largely underdeveloped when compared to The United States – he called these countries “Shitholes” trying to emphasize the extent of the lack of development. An ignorant and single-sided story, but it holds a very simple truth – many countries in Africa are significantly less developed in ways of public services (water, sewage, garbage, food, etcetera) than The United States.

As I will argue below, The United States should be taking more immigrants from these nations than from our developed peers in Europe. The basis of my argument hinges upon research by Malcolm Gladwell and his book Outliers. A brief example from Gladwell’s book examines the National Hockey League (NHL). To set the context, hockey leagues in the US are broken by the calender year. So, those born in January of 2018 play against and with those born in December of 2018. In 3^rd grade every month makes a huge difference on physical development and ability – height, size, speed, etcetera. In the NHL 70% of players are born in the first 6 months of the year: January through June, leaving only 30% from July to December. The leading theory is many Elementary and Middle School students stop playing hockey when they have to play against people 6+ months older than them. Pretty logical so far – faced with a degree of unfairness many people stop playing.

Here’s where it gets interesting: in the Hall of Fame 50% are NHL players born January through June and 50% born July through December. Even though December through June babies account for 70% of the NHL they only account for 50% of the Hall of Fame. Gladwell suggests that the 30% of NHL players who stick it out in their younger years develop phenomenal abilities with respect to the 70% because of the pain, suffering, and challenges they faced growing up.

If we want a country full of Hall of Famers we need to have immigrants that come from the 30%. Immigrants who despite a lack of education, food security, job security, or what have you still have a desire and will to fight, live, and improve their lives. It’s like the traits of a successful entrepreneurial team – if you have a decent idea and grit your team will succeed. Grit. That’s what The United States needs out of its immigrants. Immigrants ready to take on the challenges of today and look toward tomorrow. Immigrants who have been through hells but still know how to laugh, love, and enjoy life. Grit is developed through trials and tribulations. And where do you think more trials and tribulations are found? In a life where you can turn any tap or spigot on for water? Or a life where the well is an 1000 meter walk away?

I do not want to diminish the trials and tribulations of any person – we all have had our fights and our battles. No one’s pain is comparable to another’s. I am saying that I have encountered endless people in Mozambique who have developed exactly what we should be looking for in our immigrants – Grit. Below I have outlined brief stories of people I have interacted with.

Eusebia – she is one of the nurses in our town from the suburb about 30 km South East of downtown Namuno. She has had 5 children with 5 different men. She has been divorced and left many times to tend to her family and children alone and without support. Her youngest two sons frequent my house to color and play. When my house was robbed, she brought me food. When I was trying to figure out how to properly put grates on my windows, she sent a metal worker and a mason to do the repairs. For 3 months last year she hosted 15 nurses doing an internship. That’s Eusebia – a single mother with a full household who works fulltime as a nurse and all the while supports every single Peace Corps Volunteer in our community. She is our caretaker and mother.

Mana Lina and friends

Lina is the leader of this group of neighbourhood kids. She is the oldest and just started 8^th grade. They are the only female children/young adults who frequent my house. They are constantly outnumbered by males easily 3 to 1. But week in and week out they come to color, to play, to draw, to learn – and led by Lina. She is responsible and keeps the children well behaved. Mind you – she’s in 8^th grade. Lina has better people skills than many adults I’ve met in The United States. She’s tough, resilient, creative, and passionate. She’s a fighter.

Richard and Caroline Wakefield

Richard is Zimbabwean forced out during Mugabe’s rule. Caroline is South African. About 10 years ago they moved to Chimoio, the central of Mozambique. About 5 years ago they moved to Montepuez about 60 km north of my site. Richard worked as an operations director for an English based cotton company that owns the concessions to the cotton in my province. Last year, Richard retired from the cotton company to start a 5 acre vegetable farm and a mid-sized chicken farm. Richard ran the numbers and determined his break even and profit margins for selling his produce. He determined that he could sustain his current lifestyle by selling tomatoes for 50 MZN (~0.80 USD) per kilogram. The current market price of tomatoes is 100 MZN (~1.70 USD) per kilogram. He could easily raise his price to the market price or probably even above market price since the quality of his tomatoes is much better than anything else sold in the market. He doesn’t and wont. He and Caroline started the vegetable farm for the community. They saw the need with regards to food insecurities and decided to do something about it. They could have returned to Zim or SA if they wanted. They could have moved to where their family and friends live. They didn’t. They are staying in Mozambique to do something about the issues the country and people here face. It’d be easier for them to call it good and retire back home. They’ve got mad loads of grit.

(photo taken by Dionisio - featuring his younger brother)

Dionisio Venancio

My 12^th grader roommate who will turn 21 this year. He is the second oldest of 8. His older sister is going to nursing school. They are the only 2 siblings in their family who have attended any High School because their family does not have enough money to pay for registration. Sending one of their kids to highschool requires about ½ of all the peanuts they produce in one year. So for a long time they altered Dionisio and his older sister. Stories like these are abundant. I hope I have painted a broad spectrum of many of the people whom I trust and love here in Namuno, Mozambique. Here’s his last two facebook statements:

“Bicicleta já tenho o meu sonho é de ter uma mota depois caro depois um barco e finalmente um Navio”

-I already have a bicycle. My dream is to have a motorcycle then a car then a boat and finally a ship.

“Em momentos tristes sempre lembramos Deus!! Mas porke esquecemos nos momentos Felizes??”

-In the sad moments we remember God. But why do we forget [Him] in the good moments?

Those are a few short stories about Africans who have grit. Who’ve experienced hells and continue to experience challenges. They do it for their families, friends, and for the community. They fight for the betterment of all people. Some are more educated than others. Some have more business skills than others. The one thing they all have – mad grit. The United States would be lucky if they wanted to become US citizens. People like them should be welcomed, sought after, and fought after. Not discarded because of the challenges they faced in their pasts.

It seems ridiculous to me – to dismiss a person’s capabilities and potential simply because they’ve had a tough life.

“No one [and nothing] can make you feel inferior without your consent” – Eleonore Rossevelt (and brackets added by Alex Jansen, fellow PCV)

“I did some things that were not smart, but I always stayed on the good side of people” – Sanjay Mathur, Country Director Peace Corps Mozambique

May we continuously examine our judgements and predisposition in search of truth and companionship. May we continue to build a better society, one day at a time, and together.

With all of my heart,

Daniel Bladow

P.S. A brief update on my life – things have turned for the better! A serious of calls and the governor speaking to the superintendent of my province turned our situation around. We were approved to be teachers moments before Peace Corps was coming to collect all of our possessions and move us.  

Down But Not Out

January 29^th, 2018

The Rock Stars I will deeply miss

I’m feeling overwhelmed, drained, frustrated, invigorated, hopeful, and gracious. The Superintendent of education for my province has decided that Peace Corp Volunteers are not fit to teach in the province because we do not hold certificates of teaching from Teaching Universities. The US Ambassador coordinated a meeting between Peace Corps and the Secretary of Education of Mozambique. The Secretary of Education supported the Superintendent’s decision to make autonomous decisions regarding her province – so to an extent the Secretary of Education decided to not micro-manage her provincial Superintendents.

Within the next 6-8 weeks I will be moved from my community, my house, and my loved ones. I do not know where I will be going. I do not know what I will be teaching (probably math or physics still). Until the Ministry of Education of Mozambique has a new set of sites for the 11 US teachers in Cabo Delgado I will be at my current home. I have requested to remain in a part of the country that speaks Makua since I have dedicated so much time to learning the Makua language.

I am angry that someone has decided to judge my teaching abilities without actually watching me teach or talking to anyone who has watched me teach. I feel caught in a political decision that I do not fully understand or agree with. With all of that said, when I joined the Peace Corps I decided to go anywhere and do anything – to be sent and to serve. So, my site shall change. The local language may change too.

It was last Thursday our PC Country Director met with the Secretary of Education – we were positive and hopeful we would be able to stay in Cabo Delgado. At noon, myself and two others received notice that our Country Director wanted to meet with us at 3 PM – we immediately knew this was bad news. We held out trying to keep our hope alive. Going into that meeting, I wanted to throw a fit – I wanted to fight. During that meeting, I remembered why I came here and why I will always continue to fight.

I stand for and with those on the fringes of society. The people who are too tired of fighting alone. For the rights of the children and for the future of us all. I fight for my kids and your kids because it’s the right thing to do. I will not let anyone else dictate my decisions or emotional state. As long as I’m breathing you can bet your ass I’ll be fighting. I’ve been through hard times and hell before – I have no fear of going through flames again. If need be, I will live in the flames. I will stand with those who are casted into the fires – casted to live out their lives alone and without support. Mothers who tend a farm while carrying for a family and nursing a baby. Fathers who try to farm enough peanuts so their children can go to school. Parents who struggle and toil so their children may have a chance at a better life. Children who raise other children. Children who are raised by other children. 

I will head the orders of my PC Supervisors. I will be sent where they decide and I will teach. Where ever I am placed, I will make new friends, find a new group of local kids to play with, and learn whatever local language is spoken there. It will be and currently is excruciatingly painful – but it’s not a difficult decision. It’s who I am. I will find another family to share meals with, teach baking skills, and share my love and my heart. I will weep and have cried for the family and friends I am losing. I will share my passion for learning with my students and forge new relationships. I will engage with my community. I will learn about their needs and stand with them in their struggles as I have been doing for the last 15 months.

I will always stand amongst others who are experiencing pain and struggle. Life is a journey not meant to be travelled alone. I will find those on the fringes of society in my future community and make friends of them once more.

This is who I am. It's what I do.

Logistically, you may be thinking: what’s going to happen to the Peanut Butter project? Simply put, they were making PB before I got here and they’ll continue making PB after Peace Corp leaves – plus my site-mate is a health volunteer and will not be relocated. What’s going to happen to my dope house I’ve invested so much time and energy in? I’ll bring some things with me to my future home, give some away to my site-mate, and leave some things for the government official who will replace me in my house.

I originally wanted to use this post to highlight the stars of my community. Those who have risen above circumstance and have succeeded in the face of pain, suffering, and despite the odds. Due to recent events I will postpone that post for the next month.

In my next post you will meet the mothers who raise families of 5 alone – while holding a full time job and being active in the community. You will meet fathers who have sacrificed their food security so they can send their child to school. You will meet children who raise other children and vice-versa: the children raised by other children. I will do my best to share their stories. These are some of the people whom I call family. I am incredibly disheartened to leave them – and yet I am thankful I will have the next 6-8 weeks to say my goodbyes.

Overall, I’m feeling down but not out. I know why I am here and that is an optimistic power that continues to fuel me through many struggles. I am going to end with something my brother sent me:

“If I woke up tomorrow and didn’t have a dolla, as long as I have my heart, I can get it all back”- Rick Ross

May we fight the good fight, may we stand with those who suffer, and may we always remember that we are not alone.

With all my heart,

Daniel Bladow

The Grinch Who Stole Christmas - and the Chicken Feet!!

January 15th, 2018 

I was robbed on January 3rd and it’s been pretty rough. I have a 12th grader living with me who has been guarding my house while I was gone and who will be helping out with chores moving forward the next year. At 4 AM, he woke me up and called me out into the front room of our house. It was a disaster and about half of the main room was missing – the half remaining were items that did not fit through a window sill. The grate in the window sill had been pried out of the wooden frame.   

The moringa seeds that were being stored in a 25kg sack of rice were dumped in the middle of the floor. Most of my tech was out in the front room charging along with my roommate’s tech. It’s all gone. Both computers, both phones, 2 of my external hard drives (I lost roughly 1500 movies), 25kg of rice (it was being stored in buckets to prevent bugs from entering), 5kg of beans, a box of tomato paste, 8 packages of pasta, the surge protector for the fridge, and my 5000 mets in cash I left under my computer (roughly 88 USD) – and then the ridiculous items! 1 of my 2 backup water filters had been stolen (I guarantee they have no idea how to use it let alone would they want to), the TWO CHICKEN FEET left in the chicken stew from the night before, half a bar of soap (worth about 0.33 USD), the fake Christmas tree (not to worry, they dropped all of the ornaments in front of the house), and even one glass bottle of beer which fell as they were leaving and broke on my front porch.  

In short – I’m okay, my roommate is okay, and I have insurance for my tech stuff.   

Continuing the story, my roommate almost immediately assumes they entered the house without making noise by using magic and casting a spell. We go to the police and as I’m recounting what has happened, the three officers outside overhear the report and begin talking about how the thieves must have used magic. After reporting it to the police, I go to my sitemate’s house (HUGE shout out here to Alex, my sitemate, for all of her support that day and since then). I wake her up at about 5:30 AM so I can make some phone calls and begin to figure things out. Over the course of the day we slowly realize all of the things missing. My roommate’s house keys had been taken along with various other items. For example, at first I did not realize I was missing two of my hard drives – at first I only realized one was gone. Turns out they took the cord to my electric oven and decided to leave the oven!! 

At around 7 AM the local neighbourhood kids came over and saw the house in disarray. In half disbelief, the local kids begin scouring the area for signs of clues. They found a crowbar in the grass where the thieves used a motorcycle to carry their winnings on home. Between the crowbar and our fans, we began to understand how they got into the house without either of us waking up. My coloring supplies where in my room so I grab them and have the criancas sitting on my front porch dutifully coloring while I continue to make calls and send emails.  

After going to the police I knew I would have to decide what to do about the criancas (local kids). I knew I did not want any distractions and it would be an added stress. But I also knew I needed to have their presence. The criancas, as frustrating as they may be sometimes, are a large part of why I love being here. I was already robbed – that I could not change. But I did not want these thieves to also steal coloring time from the kids. 

I have often wondered how I would react if all of the things I owned were taken. If all the advantages life has given me were stripped, would I be able to recuperate and get back up? I’d like to think yes but hopefully I’ll never have to truly find out. What I do know is this – you can steal the things I have without my permission. I will make it challenging, but it’s always possible. However – my spirit and my heart are mine alone to give and I am not going to let some poor and hungry thieves take my spirit (I mean they took the two chicken feet for goodness gracious!! I can only imagine how hungry they were). Allowing the criancas to come over and color was my way of saying to myself and my community – try to steal my things sure. But still my spirit? My resolve? I think not.  

I started planning repairs and making purchases in town to improve the security of my house. I bought new door locks and immediately replaced the locks on our doors. Furthermore, we went to bed very late the night before and were probably in deep sleep when they entered. Going to bed the night after, the window where they broke in was still unsecured. Still unnerved a bit, I set alarms throughout the night and woke up about every hour. The next morning I had the welders working on making grates for the windows to the house.  

With the repairs completed thus far, if someone wants to enter by a window they’re going to have to take down the entire wall. I’m working on reinforcing the doors next – to break-in through a door someone will have to use an axe to split the wooden door. At least those are my plans. My windows are now well secured and I have been sleeping perfectly during the nights again.   

In all honesty, I did not think I would ever be robbed let alone while in my house in my community. I felt safe and secure here – I felt welcomed, wanted, and invited. I was arrogant and assumed because I had positive relationships in my community I would be protected. But people in the community get robbed too.  

I should also say – I still feel welcomed, wanted, and invited. The feelings of safety and security are returning as I turn my house into a fortress. My community has been supportive. I had two families stop by and donate money to me – money which I knew they could use more but money which I could not socially refuse. I had a few families stop by and give me “milho”, ground corn powder – milho which I knew they could use more (especially considering how I do not like cooking with it) but milho I could not socially refuse. Several families in my community asked if they could cook me dinner for the foreseeable future until I would be able to get my house fixed and buy food again. My neighbour is the procurador of my district – essentially the person in charge of the justice system. So, he sent the Police Chief to my house and by 8 AM the day of the robbery I had both his personal numbers. Wow.  

I knew Peace Corps would approve housing repairs/upgrades, reimbursements, and I have insurance for my tech. The things stolen would be replaced.  

How fortunate am I? 

My house was robbed and everything in the main room of value removed and taken. My community came to me and gave support in various ways. I am fortunate enough that shortly after the robbery I had a trip to Nelspruit, South Africa planned to handle visa issues for Peace Corps. Hence, I already have a new computer. I am fortunate enough that I have parents able and willing to front me some money until my insurance money comes in.  

It’s been hard for me watching my roommate react to the speed of which our items are being replaced. He comes from a subsistence farming family – tomorrow they are slaughtering a pig so they can sell the meat to sign their kids up for school this coming year. Overall, I am pretty damn fortunate. I am loved and cared for. I will not nor cannot let the actions of the few taint my spirits or my love for my community.  

With that said, I almost broke down. I almost wanted to say, screw it all this place isn’t for me – and here’s the story from last Wednesday, January 10th: 

A group of us were in South Africa applying for work visas for Mozambique. Crossing back into Mozambique from South Africa, I wanted to exchange a 100 USD bill to help with some of my cash flows. The rate should have been 1 USD to 58 Meticais, and I knew that. I come up to a group of 4 money exchangers and they tell me the rate is 60. I’m oddly surprised and say okay. He counts to 5900 and I tell him to keep the other 100. At this point, I’m thinking the rates either changed without me knowing or he doesn’t know that the rate has dropped. He hands me the stack of cash to count it. I double count it and it’s perfect – 5900 mets in 100s and 200s. The fact that he counted it in 100s and 200s should have been the other dead give away – he should have been using 1000s and/or 500s. It’s rare for people to have that many small bills let alone be okay with using that many small bills. I hand him his stack of cash back and pull my 100 USD bill out. I hand him my bill, he hands me a wad of cash and tells me I should put it away because it’s a lot of money and someone might take it. Without thinking twice, I put it in my pocket and walk to the bar where the rest of the PCVs are enjoying a beer. 

I should have noticed a lot of things going wrong – there were plenty of warning signs. I also should have asked one of the other PCVs to stay back with me while I exchanged. But they were within sight so what could go wrong?  

I get to the bar, pull out the wad and begin recounting before putting it securely away. Turns out it was a different wad of cash totally about 3300 meticais!! I was furious with myself and furious with Mozambique in general. I felt overwhelmingly exhausted with constantly fighting – fighting for myself, for the criancas, for my community. I have two other PCVs return to the exchange location with me – and of course the 4 men are gone. There are others in the vicinity and I begin talking to them and explaining what happened. I could feel the anger surging inside – and it wasn’t just anger about being robbed 2500 meticais. It was anger for everything in my house being taken, for feeling like the thieves who broke into my house will never get caught, for feeling robbed without being able to fight back, and then finally for being robbed 2500 meticais right in front of my face. I felt like a fool.  

I explained who I was, how I worked in Mozambique as a high school teacher, and I tried to say if they don’t know who the 4 men are, maybe the police would help them remember. After all, we were at the border entry so the police were also within shouting distance. One of the bystanders responds “dude, next time you gotta let us know you’re one of us so this doesn’t happen!” – to which I laugh and it even brings out a small smile. Eventually, we turn and return to our bar with the rest of the PCVs. A fellow PCV bought me a beer and hands it to me. After taking but one sip, a bystander comes up to me and is  like “follow me”.  

So myself and another PCV follow him to one of the “Chefe’s” (boss) of the money exchangers. This Boss-dude has me explain what happens and then he refunds all of the money I was short. I gave him and the bystander who brought me to him 300 meticais as a tip/thank you. All of a sudden, I feel relieved but guilty that I was so quick to give up hope. I also feel rejuvenated but completely mentally exhausted. We return to the bar to continue drinking our beers. 

A few minutes later, THE BOSS of the money exchangers came up to talk to me. He was walking with a guard and they both were carrying batons. He tells me that he heard the story in the street but needs me to confirm what happened. I tell him everything (leaving out only the part about me giving the middle boss dude a 300 met thank you tip). He asks if my money is complete to which I respond yes. He apologies for the incident, thanks me for my report, and turns to leave. That was that.  

It’s been a trying two weeks. I’ve been emotionally drained and exhausted. I’m back home for now but have to leave soon for a Peace Corps Conference.  

Drama aside, it has also been a productive two weeks. We sold/distributed all of the Peanut Butter we had in stock! I have a meeting with the director of a graphite mine later this week about supplying their kitchen with peanut butter. We have a new contact in Pemba who wants to sell our PB in their store. I’m hoping to meet with some Peace Corps Chefes while I’m in Maputo to discuss our grant application in which  we’re hopefully to buy a motor/bicycle powered machine that will allow us to meet an increase in production.   

Stay tuned, because I plan on writing two blog posts this month! I want to take some time and write a little more about PB and life here. As many reading this may know, President Trump made a derogatory comment about Haiti and the continent of Africa in regards to immigration. For now, I wont deny his alleged comment about it being a “shithole”. There is trash in many streets in my town. Many homes do not have proper toilets or adequate bathrooms. Less than 10% of my town has power and even fewer people are linked to the city water, which runs for an hour or so at best every so often. Many children are malnourished and disease is rampant. Would I ever call my community a “shithole?”- No. I love it too much. Is it rough around the edges? Ya. Is life hard here? Ya.  What I want to discuss is WHY. 

As always, thank you for taking the time to read my post. I appreciate all of the support I have and continue to receive. I want to give a cheers to the chicken feet and the fake Christmas trees around the world – they can steal what we have but only we can give our spirits and hearts. They do not have permission to steal our spirits and hearts – however challenging it may be at times. May we work toward a world where people do not need to steal out of hunger.  

With all my heart, 

Daniel Bladow