tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78632187707575781412024-03-13T18:13:23.682-07:00Sienna's Peace Corps experience in MozambiqueSienna Laughtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08264272138884813622noreply@blogger.comBlogger79125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7863218770757578141.post-50429798829777174772015-02-01T11:41:00.000-08:002015-02-01T11:41:38.471-08:00Big ChangesWell, I'm not quite sure how to start this post so I guess I'll just come right out and say it. As of this week, I am no longer a Peace Corps volunteer. I've decided to leave Mozambique and not finish my two years of service. Why did I decide to leave? The short answer is this: I wasn't happy and I decided I wanted to try and be happy. <br />
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This was not a decision I made lightly and was the product of many conversations, emails, journal entries, and prayers. It was an incredibly hard decision to make. On the one hand I knew I didn't want to be in Mozambique anymore. I wasn't excited about the year ahead and found myself wanting the school year to start just so it could be over sooner and I could go home. On the other hand I felt like I had responsibilities that I couldn't simply walk away from. My school was counting on me to teach for them for another year. I had a community library program to develop. There were people in Zobue counting on me being there for another year. So for the last month (probably more like 4 months) I've been stuck. One minute I would think,<i> I need to leave. I'm not happy and I'm not going to be a good volunteer, friend, or neighbor. </i> And then literally the next minute I would think, <i>no I can't leave. It's only 10 more months. I can do it. </i>And then the next minute I would be back to leaving again. I was stuck.<br />
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Last week the back and forth finally came to a head. I emailed my parents, sister, and friends from home asking for advice--should I leave or should I stay? I also talked to a counselor while we were in Maputo for our mid-service conference. Almost everyone had the same answer. Do what makes you happy. Don't think about what you think you should do, think about what you want to do. Ten months of misery isn't worth it. Take care of yourself first.<br />
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I took a few days to decide, but in the end I chose to leave. I missed feeling happy and wanted to try and be happy again. I am sorry to be leaving before finishing my commitment to Peace Corps and to my village, but I know it was the right decision. I have felt such a sense of peace and relief since I made the decision and I have felt happier than I have in a long time. It was hard to say goodbye to all my friends and colleagues and especially difficult to explain to people in Zobue why I was leaving, but through it all I knew it was for the best. <br />
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On Tuesday I fly to Berlin to visit some friends and then have no idea what the future holds. I'd like to stay in Europe for a few months and do some travelling, but I'm open to anything that comes my way. I'm excited to see what happens.<br />
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If you have any questions please feel free to email me and I will do my best to respond. I don't really know how much internet access I'll have, but I'm guessing if I had internet in my rural village in Mozambique, I'll probably have it in Western Europe. :)<br />
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<img src="https://scontent-b-ams.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xap1/v/t1.0-9/10624674_10153594796468135_5336777931169164655_n.jpg?oh=7fcaf1f73dd0e2c2fa2ad250230b3425&oe=55582D2A" />Sienna Laughtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08264272138884813622noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7863218770757578141.post-67198267891406682912015-01-26T07:25:00.000-08:002015-01-26T07:25:00.664-08:00Mail stopMore to come soon, but I just wanted to let you all know to stop sending mail to my Malawi address until further notice. Thanks!<br />
<br />Sienna Laughtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08264272138884813622noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7863218770757578141.post-81312687188649793182015-01-12T00:56:00.000-08:002015-01-12T00:58:57.611-08:00Zanzibar, ZanzibarThe day after our climb we headed back to Dar es Salaam for a night and then took the ferry to Zanzibar the next day. The travel to Dar was pretty miserable and I had doubts about whether trying to squeeze in Zanzibar was a good idea, but once we finally got to the island all my doubts disappeared. Zanzibar is truly a magical place. We stayed in the heart of Stone Town, a part of Zanzibar city that is equal parts old European village and middle eastern town. The island is 95% muslim so most of the children running around had head scarves and embroidered caps. The island is semi-autonomous so we had to go through customs and get our passports stamped upon entry. We spent our days in Zanzibar eating delicious food, riding bikes, snorkeling, going on a spice tour, and wandering the streets of stone town. It was incredibly hot and humid, but we had A/C in our hotel room so we slept well every night. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The streets of Stone Town</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sugarcane juice with ginger and lime</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">playing dominoes and drinking coffee in the square</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sunset on the water</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zanzibar mix! A delicious soups with falafel, fried potato balls, hard boiled egg, kabob, and veggies in a yogurt broth for less than $1! Yum.</td></tr>
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One day in Zanzibar we did two trips through the tourist office. In the morning we went snorkeling and in the afternoon we went on a spice tour. In total, we each paid $20 for the day. This included everything. Zanzibar is amazingly cheap.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snorkel time!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">approaching Prison Island for snorkeling</td></tr>
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Prison island is so named because it used to be a quarantine location for people and ships on route to Zanzibar Island. There is no one in prison on Prison Island now, but it is home to over 100 giant tortoises. They were originally a gift from Seychelles in exchange for some rare Zanzibarbarian plants. The oldest tortoise in the sanctuary is 191 years old!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">but first, turtle.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">and peacocks.</td></tr>
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On the spice tour we got to see and taste tons of fruits and spices. Here are a few of the best ones:<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Breadfruit. Our guide told us it is called breadfruit because when boiled the fruit is kind of like bread.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUEDIoo3B_KC1Bbnv8kVSjypl8cbqRrkBF4fuvAsW2Zfe9HrcFf0o-98O7WflCtxi6SMEgykJZD3O5sNF6Nop6yawBYoydz1f2XAnXuMLdZ1vbY9h1RtmWX5MblNsDysEFK7ggURKSFIvy/s1600/DSCN2131.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUEDIoo3B_KC1Bbnv8kVSjypl8cbqRrkBF4fuvAsW2Zfe9HrcFf0o-98O7WflCtxi6SMEgykJZD3O5sNF6Nop6yawBYoydz1f2XAnXuMLdZ1vbY9h1RtmWX5MblNsDysEFK7ggURKSFIvy/s1600/DSCN2131.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Turmeric. Used as a coloring in curries.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1WreXc21Ml9FncJ5Z_WhavJ_IhwF0r-XfV7i_GBZk7N9rIv2P3OpQXlLkmcUcQpjyn7ld9EJHGO8sqOKI9eWNkcTDjagFd5h0uSq7-EJxWe3Jn_bR4WjcUr1CmTizQdAE6otK1Vbz2q_A/s1600/DSCN2138.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1WreXc21Ml9FncJ5Z_WhavJ_IhwF0r-XfV7i_GBZk7N9rIv2P3OpQXlLkmcUcQpjyn7ld9EJHGO8sqOKI9eWNkcTDjagFd5h0uSq7-EJxWe3Jn_bR4WjcUr1CmTizQdAE6otK1Vbz2q_A/s1600/DSCN2138.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cameleon!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-qlT0Y6aQPkYtGcqrFwBB_wq87bWjbtCFK6QgJ6BDh20jc_h8AFx6Is9aU9xPGNyIWe6Qidq0tl-Y7GwNkWxvK9VBt8oh67CACqrQClldfbCrgUOVCC0-NLF1qE_jS8ztV-kcAf9hz_pn/s1600/DSCN2139.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-qlT0Y6aQPkYtGcqrFwBB_wq87bWjbtCFK6QgJ6BDh20jc_h8AFx6Is9aU9xPGNyIWe6Qidq0tl-Y7GwNkWxvK9VBt8oh67CACqrQClldfbCrgUOVCC0-NLF1qE_jS8ztV-kcAf9hz_pn/s1600/DSCN2139.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vanilla bean.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyLGWg8wQ3LwLF69ZzwbmC_vRXfVyP0_kGVnENU_slIlyHWT-9aOnjAZNwYi3FxH52hQM8p6CJYv2b8RFkgcbWv9TqjslGXDZmyUw48RlzwWthUR3rpVGJc-GcWzqRfGE31HzlWOQ55o4H/s1600/DSCN2145.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyLGWg8wQ3LwLF69ZzwbmC_vRXfVyP0_kGVnENU_slIlyHWT-9aOnjAZNwYi3FxH52hQM8p6CJYv2b8RFkgcbWv9TqjslGXDZmyUw48RlzwWthUR3rpVGJc-GcWzqRfGE31HzlWOQ55o4H/s1600/DSCN2145.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jackfruit. It is the largest fruit in the world. These are still babies, but the big ones can be up to two feet long.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGyL4DctK7mIwPZZty4pdH5oclAF7PXNG_TWuuDlRz3-VxGsbq5NX5McIwHUaxnKRoA72xvlwf9I0TsPFDgw_VHObbW-gAjh5_79araYPPv5htm2YTeI4Tn7tLNydiCSzGSX3vWkfkmAmH/s1600/DSCN2147.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGyL4DctK7mIwPZZty4pdH5oclAF7PXNG_TWuuDlRz3-VxGsbq5NX5McIwHUaxnKRoA72xvlwf9I0TsPFDgw_VHObbW-gAjh5_79araYPPv5htm2YTeI4Tn7tLNydiCSzGSX3vWkfkmAmH/s1600/DSCN2147.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nutmeg. The red stuff on the outside of the seed is mace.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwVhKKiQuh3l9idOktQoHca6tORWJZAwgcQ9z1AT7HJjHk32bEkaH-B7qA5XAv2Uh7s-w61QtsbpNVWa7wCCJdmrqqdnfqIwDfwNXh3HcuL5CEC2IoiKG2RFL9us7LciLeTJxyl-Dc-fAH/s1600/DSCN2148.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwVhKKiQuh3l9idOktQoHca6tORWJZAwgcQ9z1AT7HJjHk32bEkaH-B7qA5XAv2Uh7s-w61QtsbpNVWa7wCCJdmrqqdnfqIwDfwNXh3HcuL5CEC2IoiKG2RFL9us7LciLeTJxyl-Dc-fAH/s1600/DSCN2148.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Removing the mace...it is a really weird texture. Kind of like plastic.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNF1gPGBu4Oy88C7LDSojHTUY_PGlfvL_iMJ9VyOBIx6teheKUHfSWAoqXWJ5upze0KmxarQPjWOZ6C6xlp9wfE6aATYgllEBqpbQ03GuXNiLojlHM5VETX2hia-hwWLgKbGX0gqYo0pk9/s1600/DSCN2149.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNF1gPGBu4Oy88C7LDSojHTUY_PGlfvL_iMJ9VyOBIx6teheKUHfSWAoqXWJ5upze0KmxarQPjWOZ6C6xlp9wfE6aATYgllEBqpbQ03GuXNiLojlHM5VETX2hia-hwWLgKbGX0gqYo0pk9/s1600/DSCN2149.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The mace separate from the nutmeg. Apparently the mace has a more delicate flavor than the ground nutmeg seed.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs5Qej86q86E589jjTf9JegET0rgSEidwzH6HAVuOLr9G-qUzD1uJr69kE1vNSBfZXhvhs-GTtt6mrOgcxl2KzLAYHhKWnrm5zSpyuXsFrwMNmHFaz-ZT4UNGvAuiLXo6ef0K3JZrNhJQM/s1600/DSCN2150.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs5Qej86q86E589jjTf9JegET0rgSEidwzH6HAVuOLr9G-qUzD1uJr69kE1vNSBfZXhvhs-GTtt6mrOgcxl2KzLAYHhKWnrm5zSpyuXsFrwMNmHFaz-ZT4UNGvAuiLXo6ef0K3JZrNhJQM/s1600/DSCN2150.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Harvesting cinnamon by peeling off the bark. The wood is then used for firewood. Best smelling fire ever!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKiDgiPIJ1hTqnj_PY9khYZIV6h8tfG8k6ya8se2L8g4MdVaWeoXhYROKqmt5ztXwYDS1Gq2AUFAXwz1eqRIUt74-1NlcavGqkyFloo7epAklLsZ5oaClmBInC9unjqXSSLXFJJSprcl14/s1600/DSCN2154.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKiDgiPIJ1hTqnj_PY9khYZIV6h8tfG8k6ya8se2L8g4MdVaWeoXhYROKqmt5ztXwYDS1Gq2AUFAXwz1eqRIUt74-1NlcavGqkyFloo7epAklLsZ5oaClmBInC9unjqXSSLXFJJSprcl14/s1600/DSCN2154.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A man climbing a coconut tree. All he used was twine between his feet for gripping. He then just used friction and leverage to climb straight up!</td></tr>
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Visiting Moshi and Zanzibar gave me a whole new perspective on Africa. These towns showed me that there can be functional places in Africa that understand tourism and offer quality services. After a year in Mozambique I had the impression that all of Africa was like Mozambique, but that is definitely not the case. It is easy to forget how young Mozambique is as an independent country. The truth is that Mozambique has only been a country free of war since 1992. Visiting a more developed country in Africa helped me realize that Mozambique just needs more time to develop. I can't expect Mozambique to be in the same place as Tanzania, a country that has been peacefully independent for 50 years. I am hoping I can remember that as I face all the daily frustrations of living in Mozambique during my second and last year of living here. I am part of the process of increasing development in Mozambique and I can't wait to come back here in 30 years and see how far the country has come.</div>
Sienna Laughtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08264272138884813622noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7863218770757578141.post-10557829836170023902015-01-11T23:05:00.002-08:002015-01-11T23:06:43.637-08:00Travels to TanzaniaNow that I've documented the climb up the mountain, now I'd like to share with you the adventures of the rest of the trip. I set out from Zobue with my friends Emma (not my roommate Emma, a different Emma) and Aleesa and Alicia, a Peace Corps volunteer from Namibia who happened to be travelling through. Alicia went on to the lake and we met up with our friend Nick at Doogles Lodge in Blantyre, Malawi. After a day of enjoying Blantyre (eating ice cream, shopping at Shoprite, etc) we set off for Lilongwe. Our plan was to catch the bus for Lilongwe to Dar that evening, but when we got to the bus station the bus for that day was already full. We bought tickets for the next day and set off trying to find the Peace Corps Malawi office. After asking for directions from a few friendly police officers, we found the office and got some advice for where to stay from some Peace Corps Malawi volunteers. <br />
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We spent our day in Lilongwe hanging out at the Peace Corps office, drinking coffee, and eating delicious food. We even found a knockoff Chipotle restaurant with real burritos, good coffee, and delicious pineapple juice. The next evening we found ourselves on the bus to Dar es Salaam, Tanzania.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaKR83U6w2MFGB7_Y23mdDJEfBYxVB5FAEK5Ko16ZYEhQv32EN0Qj1SnqM5LB2BtiAJJDCKaW7UxgqryBuwFJyK-x4ql3UfJT5kkczwkIY5RK_A5EIIbUub6UEQtO2XW8GUEZMtN07HGpL/s1600/DSCN1668.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaKR83U6w2MFGB7_Y23mdDJEfBYxVB5FAEK5Ko16ZYEhQv32EN0Qj1SnqM5LB2BtiAJJDCKaW7UxgqryBuwFJyK-x4ql3UfJT5kkczwkIY5RK_A5EIIbUub6UEQtO2XW8GUEZMtN07HGpL/s1600/DSCN1668.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It was winter solstice when we ate at the Chipotle knockoff restaurant, so we made a solstice man out of the foil from our burrito wrappers.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkiSpZCGJyXhxuOxgV8LYHITPzy3jUaAY5aSwhpw6Mq25Zy4X4TOT4n5_MwXhw59dmrFnStTvnM9u5E54YPo_NxadsXe1d_UXd8VgPEzNjxId7D6TaJB2rmGCPMwy-_43Z9k16o5dsW3zg/s1600/DSCN1669.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkiSpZCGJyXhxuOxgV8LYHITPzy3jUaAY5aSwhpw6Mq25Zy4X4TOT4n5_MwXhw59dmrFnStTvnM9u5E54YPo_NxadsXe1d_UXd8VgPEzNjxId7D6TaJB2rmGCPMwy-_43Z9k16o5dsW3zg/s1600/DSCN1669.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waiting for the bus to Dar</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Easy Bus--our bus to Dar</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We're on the bus! So clean and happy...no idea what is in store</td></tr>
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The first night we spent on the bus was uneventful as we traveled north through Malawi and by dawn we found ourselves at the border between Malawi and Tanzania. Miraculously we found our friend Justin just walking along by the border and he joined us on the bus for the rest of the trip. By this point we were already pretty tired--the bus rocked so much I hadn't been able to sleep at all--and we had discovered that a sooty grime covered everything on the bus so we were pretty filthy by this point too. My fingernails were black, my skin was covered in a black dust, and all my possessions were gradually getting more filthy. And we still had 16 hours on the bus.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj6sbO-GFOuNhunfhA0utbKt01wD5KWrIwNmWZPeuNRCRlVGxciKKVCDjW5TM0TWnyXPBjUslRtKB2P5RgHN0BIf0xjzqmMQOnp9HaMmvnlj4WDGhNkBvhcVBil-ZtspTBhKn3Rpz4VUUj/s1600/DSCN1681.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj6sbO-GFOuNhunfhA0utbKt01wD5KWrIwNmWZPeuNRCRlVGxciKKVCDjW5TM0TWnyXPBjUslRtKB2P5RgHN0BIf0xjzqmMQOnp9HaMmvnlj4WDGhNkBvhcVBil-ZtspTBhKn3Rpz4VUUj/s1600/DSCN1681.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Views of Tanzania from the bus window. Here Justin bought a whole plate of bananas for 1000 shillings, about 60 cents.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tea plantations in Tanzania</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_p6Rhud-AEDt9PUX0A49FVDvv4MSYi8I2jy24pPkzClHFvp6IUwZUHE17P6I-H4-Lpmu6i26dSZL_qBTKqA__jSNQBXMcf_YABvzXOCdHe_tXQfkj8hJr7kgc6aclj-zO5XiMebnTQCJb/s1600/DSCN1684.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_p6Rhud-AEDt9PUX0A49FVDvv4MSYi8I2jy24pPkzClHFvp6IUwZUHE17P6I-H4-Lpmu6i26dSZL_qBTKqA__jSNQBXMcf_YABvzXOCdHe_tXQfkj8hJr7kgc6aclj-zO5XiMebnTQCJb/s1600/DSCN1684.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So green!</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: start;">We finally made it to the bus station at Dar es Salaam at 2 am and our plan was to wait in the bus station until 6 am to get the bus to Moshi, the town from which we would depart to climb Kili. This was a rough time. We were exhausted, filthy, and sweating in the 2am humid heat that is Dar. The first man we talked to about tickets to Moshi tried to charge us way too much so we walked around trying to find someone who spoke English (Tanzanians, it turns out, don't speak much English unless they deal directly with tourists). It was pretty dark so we decided our strategy would be to follow the lights and hopefully find the ticket offices. We found ourselves sitting in lit area near the ticket offices at 3 am waiting for them to open and wishing for nothing more than to take a shower. By 4 am Nick had befriended a police officer named Daniel who promised to help get us tickets to Moshi. The problem was that it was December 23rd and it seemed like everyone in Tanzania was travelling to Moshi that day. We couldn't find a bus with 5 empty seats. Long story short, at 9 am we ended up finally finding a bus to Moshi and paying way too much for it but we didn't even care because we just wanted to be out of the Dar bus terminal at that point. Just before dark on December 23rd we finally made it to Moshi, found our hostel, took the best showers of our life, and went to sleep.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC9-cRfwjAVa4yT2k8nIWpORBXsiIAhMhLGrNifX4cEeYYyNwMSLWqbmsZm4-vjltbWPtZzzAb2ypjSHMup0MH69rH1Vz-Pb-DpJL4BIvnmbQtzbk7I-bwHSymCp-K-eHm8jGzk9XoAeKc/s1600/DSCN1691.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC9-cRfwjAVa4yT2k8nIWpORBXsiIAhMhLGrNifX4cEeYYyNwMSLWqbmsZm4-vjltbWPtZzzAb2ypjSHMup0MH69rH1Vz-Pb-DpJL4BIvnmbQtzbk7I-bwHSymCp-K-eHm8jGzk9XoAeKc/s1600/DSCN1691.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bus to Moshi. The man between us has an office chair on his lap and that in completely ordinary.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVKZk-6y2X_t7Yzgq7hMfvohTr6LBs1eOK2JnP7AIUpF0GBs6VfE7OK93kcNdwYlgDzio3MSQXIkMs-p1_UsBY0Gf_sHSUucBpzJCABn4Ch6G3tdztr2-E9a0Ep_NczqK2CyLKwM5KjQIE/s1600/DSCN1694.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVKZk-6y2X_t7Yzgq7hMfvohTr6LBs1eOK2JnP7AIUpF0GBs6VfE7OK93kcNdwYlgDzio3MSQXIkMs-p1_UsBY0Gf_sHSUucBpzJCABn4Ch6G3tdztr2-E9a0Ep_NczqK2CyLKwM5KjQIE/s1600/DSCN1694.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Almost there!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC8dFaZXoyzL0MdD7zQACWkMcusWF1WdqBC9Ld0cW-lTULWLlwB0JRy_ZCyUhHINVP8MhlmLPH5VOCpymxBKpR9PJ-4hTIfUU-XmvkYEmkVB9Y9961NMJAHGoThK-1Ji7DoyByP_BZMgKU/s1600/DSCN1695.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC8dFaZXoyzL0MdD7zQACWkMcusWF1WdqBC9Ld0cW-lTULWLlwB0JRy_ZCyUhHINVP8MhlmLPH5VOCpymxBKpR9PJ-4hTIfUU-XmvkYEmkVB9Y9961NMJAHGoThK-1Ji7DoyByP_BZMgKU/s1600/DSCN1695.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We want to get off this bus!!!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGhTnaRElhNOrj5nU8IOMF3BS2dSvdQjXn-cigChOHlCfDXYb51aIk777oWKpMv4jl_xb6dbSe8M61NakCtf1Lb-2YyCvhHr3wqitqRcH2IyQh0djK1onk3UVI4DCUqd_yVhB5PA4WTYdG/s1600/DSCN1698.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGhTnaRElhNOrj5nU8IOMF3BS2dSvdQjXn-cigChOHlCfDXYb51aIk777oWKpMv4jl_xb6dbSe8M61NakCtf1Lb-2YyCvhHr3wqitqRcH2IyQh0djK1onk3UVI4DCUqd_yVhB5PA4WTYdG/s1600/DSCN1698.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Washing our filthy bus clothes at the hostel.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqVHGTAksVowqM52Kjtfz1aEHSnyXiuZAs7KIP1suOfPMhcoSyHvKrMBY18mYlnV7KFdce59fN8y2mu_7e4pPfqiV9IBa9D4GmM3eDl8GtE5W66AToabENaD4c9ybNmCfiC4IDO-rlLVTz/s1600/DSCN1699.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqVHGTAksVowqM52Kjtfz1aEHSnyXiuZAs7KIP1suOfPMhcoSyHvKrMBY18mYlnV7KFdce59fN8y2mu_7e4pPfqiV9IBa9D4GmM3eDl8GtE5W66AToabENaD4c9ybNmCfiC4IDO-rlLVTz/s1600/DSCN1699.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It took at least three rinses for the water to not be black.</td></tr>
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We spent the next few days recovering and exploring Moshi. Moshi is a small town at the base of Kilimanjaro that is full of amazing coffee shops, restaurants, and grocery stores. Our first day there we learned how to count in Swahili and used our skills at the local fruit market to buy fruit for an amazing fruit salad. We made some new friends, a young woman from Australia and a 65 year old Peace Corps Tanzania volunteer, and shared Christmas dinner with them. We made salad, guacamole, fruit salad, and mango pasta. And of course, a christmas melon. After dinner we had a white elephant gift exchange and ate candy canes. The rules for the white elephant were that the gift could only cost 2000 shillings (about $1.30) and that you had to buy it off the street. The most popular gifts were three raw eggs and a lighter/flashlight. I ended up with a Tanzanian shell necklace. It was a good Christmas. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT44HDiZl9AtNGBAsGi3ksW4ZpQBudL44wgCPja1Dlyg3qn182O4ggO5sG9T-DDX1_-XwMYsT7Lp48tEPnrwvQuuaWzLiWYmJp2K0SLdPwnrMi6exYnQBNZQ9UO3-ZKyaxOWxxJSaPQY9t/s1600/DSCN1700.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT44HDiZl9AtNGBAsGi3ksW4ZpQBudL44wgCPja1Dlyg3qn182O4ggO5sG9T-DDX1_-XwMYsT7Lp48tEPnrwvQuuaWzLiWYmJp2K0SLdPwnrMi6exYnQBNZQ9UO3-ZKyaxOWxxJSaPQY9t/s1600/DSCN1700.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The hallway at Backpacker's Paradise. They had flags from all over the world, but no flag of Mozambique.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2mfoPQnRKSEJNFWht-_wA6Q1IOcoHG1rIHonGxlzozqsY4WEHs2LvBtF-vga6XeSSPboXRy-02c2yiWIZNy6iDYyYYEHRP0CwJCYUDiEv4pMTgGn8afVRubVDFrk253ngJhZWv2TJkui3/s1600/DSCN1701.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2mfoPQnRKSEJNFWht-_wA6Q1IOcoHG1rIHonGxlzozqsY4WEHs2LvBtF-vga6XeSSPboXRy-02c2yiWIZNy6iDYyYYEHRP0CwJCYUDiEv4pMTgGn8afVRubVDFrk253ngJhZWv2TJkui3/s1600/DSCN1701.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the rooftop patio of Backpacker's Paradise. After so much travel, it really was a paradise.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnJfKNOGJRKUQsLR76Vlacrnpf0ipu8AGxXNOnp3miOS5Fg2nJbdW2HiQaAbAeZKMePiaXM78VJDoltN9OHpSmI0pHhmEYF_urCGPaOe4KAp4QXjiy1lIXoKLR95DHBH-v9VHIrgsC0cFd/s1600/DSCN1703.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnJfKNOGJRKUQsLR76Vlacrnpf0ipu8AGxXNOnp3miOS5Fg2nJbdW2HiQaAbAeZKMePiaXM78VJDoltN9OHpSmI0pHhmEYF_urCGPaOe4KAp4QXjiy1lIXoKLR95DHBH-v9VHIrgsC0cFd/s1600/DSCN1703.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moshi even had a fully stocked grocery store. Look at all the vegetables!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJprZed6h4B_VZAfqoWAgRiuMs73PK-dJ8lYSihMyz_gAQFkOTKjclJNHe-C2DfxE3oTwmRsYMtpU2iA-nzBq_kxpiGELoWOaCOG-rczIXLmz0PWU7REpiip0W4a5PAbEkfQ5LltDgHSKZ/s1600/DSCN1708.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJprZed6h4B_VZAfqoWAgRiuMs73PK-dJ8lYSihMyz_gAQFkOTKjclJNHe-C2DfxE3oTwmRsYMtpU2iA-nzBq_kxpiGELoWOaCOG-rczIXLmz0PWU7REpiip0W4a5PAbEkfQ5LltDgHSKZ/s1600/DSCN1708.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view of Kili from the rooftop patio.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2voCEJXk92XoPTjxdZOaryDDjp7vYEUjrPtiEdVcUhg6_j-pt8u2PAXjx3vLKFd7bkBLKgMmnjAvEalz7o1TdNcEdWlhHiRcgtT7CVfS3rWK43pmDatBNmnm-QuXY3zF5FTwF6P9XM7pI/s1600/DSCN1711.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2voCEJXk92XoPTjxdZOaryDDjp7vYEUjrPtiEdVcUhg6_j-pt8u2PAXjx3vLKFd7bkBLKgMmnjAvEalz7o1TdNcEdWlhHiRcgtT7CVfS3rWK43pmDatBNmnm-QuXY3zF5FTwF6P9XM7pI/s1600/DSCN1711.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Breakfast at Union Coffee.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9r9IgUFVdqvY4TCnckQ3YVon87ieYbsQHORYjRuuiciHpuZ8gxE_88Hnn2syenQxD_WsLjsmJjk70SXhICm8d00NuWOP8VmQHvDKgEhpFUURe-8Kvj7-Xs0csD5F4nOQXRWwE5IFJf0HC/s1600/DSCN1712.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9r9IgUFVdqvY4TCnckQ3YVon87ieYbsQHORYjRuuiciHpuZ8gxE_88Hnn2syenQxD_WsLjsmJjk70SXhICm8d00NuWOP8VmQHvDKgEhpFUURe-8Kvj7-Xs0csD5F4nOQXRWwE5IFJf0HC/s1600/DSCN1712.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With passionfruit cheesecake of course. The best cheesecake I've had so far in Africa. Not as good as Montana Mom's, but still pretty good.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlNB-1Lxtj6sF0Xh4v2e2BrRwhXvNVQN8mbpryCE6MCp9inE1l63aTCMh3v9oR4FFd7w4ZqeAQqqAuW7HGOXap5DKqlRxpBKt4cZW1GhBfvG0jBaRw56YGNVV5pbB5SkzTZiooRSaUPFI0/s1600/DSCN1713.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlNB-1Lxtj6sF0Xh4v2e2BrRwhXvNVQN8mbpryCE6MCp9inE1l63aTCMh3v9oR4FFd7w4ZqeAQqqAuW7HGOXap5DKqlRxpBKt4cZW1GhBfvG0jBaRw56YGNVV5pbB5SkzTZiooRSaUPFI0/s1600/DSCN1713.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">COFFEE!!!! The best thing about Tanzania was that everywhere had REAL GOOD COFFEE! Not instant ricoffy chickory stuff--real, ground, strong, coffee. YES.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDCz_TOegEhVuqw6B9lVtBNawfHi1kZRBS8wyZu9jV9sWXoS_qSSiBojuGmotu7bZ5RKUwSREeCEoWeaamIM71S_TPkv7V-LfoRQWRBeSpbGX8c4FOC5OPH-hU6WtrNHIsSQZCK3AMsePZ/s1600/DSCN1715.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDCz_TOegEhVuqw6B9lVtBNawfHi1kZRBS8wyZu9jV9sWXoS_qSSiBojuGmotu7bZ5RKUwSREeCEoWeaamIM71S_TPkv7V-LfoRQWRBeSpbGX8c4FOC5OPH-hU6WtrNHIsSQZCK3AMsePZ/s1600/DSCN1715.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Making the christmas guacamole.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibNuWlquoucqeZSyJza_bxU3A0dnWhXX4EXc4xAz-qVN7fIFUDPR7irHsk6KJfkt8_35eqm69U-0s7VEe868ruJlWpQ8jec076AVfN8c6SXyeS3sLpm6ePx_BxBeCprdITg-IVQNHv97Zy/s1600/DSCN1717.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibNuWlquoucqeZSyJza_bxU3A0dnWhXX4EXc4xAz-qVN7fIFUDPR7irHsk6KJfkt8_35eqm69U-0s7VEe868ruJlWpQ8jec076AVfN8c6SXyeS3sLpm6ePx_BxBeCprdITg-IVQNHv97Zy/s1600/DSCN1717.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christmas salad time.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbD2Ejz8zbiC6Sso-57rvGuRUeop2ThmrBThkDQd88XTHYdvA3dd5ZmCDlIyGDz1ED6u7hf8kC1Ac50lkEZnDGQQl9I2A-AcjdyVgR-dOzp3VAK3wK8QLoia531fyqNZPPYtGN879TPqJd/s1600/DSCN1719.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbD2Ejz8zbiC6Sso-57rvGuRUeop2ThmrBThkDQd88XTHYdvA3dd5ZmCDlIyGDz1ED6u7hf8kC1Ac50lkEZnDGQQl9I2A-AcjdyVgR-dOzp3VAK3wK8QLoia531fyqNZPPYtGN879TPqJd/s1600/DSCN1719.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Merry Christmas!</td></tr>
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On December 27th, we began climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro. We got down the mountain on January 2nd. In the next blog installment, I'll tell you about our travels after the mountain, including our trip to Zanzibar.Sienna Laughtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08264272138884813622noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7863218770757578141.post-52354920650674201202015-01-11T03:56:00.000-08:002015-01-11T03:56:37.646-08:00Mount Kilimanjaro<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
During my long school break in December I traveled to Tanzania with a few Peace Corps friends to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro. Mt. Kilimanjaro is the tallest mountain in Africa at a height of 5,895 m (19,341 ft). We booked a 7 day trip--5 days up, 2 days down. Our group consisted of 7 Peace Corps volunteers from Mozambique and one volunteer's brother from Chicago, three people from Japan, a man from Syria, two women from Australia, a woman from Russia/London, another man from Chicago, and a couple from Italy who have been doing humanitarian work in Angola and Somalia for the past 5 years. We were a very diverse group of 18 and I'm proud to say we all made it to the summit on day 6. Before getting to the mountain I wasn't sure if there would be other people in our group besides the 8 of us from Mozambique, but I'm glad we were joined by other people. It was fun to hear all the languages being spoken as we hiked: English, Italian, Portuguese, Japanese, Arabic, Russian, and Swahili.</div>
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In addition to the 18 hikers in our group we were also accompanied by eight guides, two waiters, three cooks, and 54 porters. In total, we were a group of over 80 people. The company we went with was called Nyange Adventures and I was completely surprised by the level of service we received on the mountain. We had booked one of the least expensive trip options so I wasn't expecting much from the food or other services while we were hiking, but I was pleasantly surprised. We received three large meals every day, tea and snack time in the afternoon, coffee delivered to our tents in the morning, and warm water to wash with twice a day. It was amazing. I barely ate any of the snacks I had brought during the trip because I was so well taken care of. I would definitely recommend Nyange Adventures to anyone who is thinking of climbing Mt. Kili.</div>
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Overall, the hike was gorgeous. We hiked through rainforests, heath and moorland, and alpine desert. With every passing day we gained more altitude and lost more oxygen. By the time we reached base camp at 15,000 ft, I could barely walk without my heart racing. We all felt giddy from lack of oxygen and didn't have much of an appetite. Drinking water left me breathless. The summit at 19,000 ft was the hardest of all. We all walked so slowly it took us 30 minutes to go .5 km.</div>
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The only downside to climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro is the crowds. I usually like to camp and backpack because it is a chance to get away from people and spend time in the quiet of nature, but that was impossible on Kili. On our route there is no quota for the number of hikers allowed so an unlimited number of groups can be hiking at the same time. There were at least 10 other groups of 80 people at each campsite with us. And that was just on our route, Machame. Once we met up with some of the other routes there were even more people. On the narrow sections of trail traffic jams were common and the path up to the summit was just a continuous line of people. Fighting the crowds is definitely worth it, but it's not something I would want to do again. I think that if Tanzania wants to preserve the ecosystem of Kilimanjaro for future generations they need to impose quotas for how many people can climb the mountain at a time.</div>
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There were man more adventures to our trip that I will describe in another blog post, but here I'd just like to take you day-by-day up the mountain and back down again.</div>
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Day 1: Machame gate (1800m) to Machame Camp (3000m)</div>
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The first day of hiking was primarily through the rainforest. We were antsy to get moving and the pace seemed agonizingly slow. When we got to camp, we were surprised by popcorn and tea, warm wash water, and a delicious dinner of fish, potatoes, and fruit.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Peace Corps Mozambique is ready to hike! (photo courtesy of Sam Krueger)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">While we waited to start hiking we had to be careful not to lose our snacks to the monkeys.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A member of our group, Sam, lost his sandwich to one of the monkeys.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo courtesy of Sam Krueger</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The porters carried 20kg in addition to their own gear.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Day 1 hiking</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Porters carried the bulk of the weight on their heads, but would switch it to their shoulders when they got tired.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At 3000m, it's chilly enough to put on layers--very exciting.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our first campsite at the edge of the rainforest.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Morning coffee in the tent.</td></tr>
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Day 2: Machame camp (3000m) to Shira Camp (3850m)</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our group hiking on day 2. Nick and I spent a long time practicing counting in Swahili: moja, mbili, tatu, nne, tano, etc.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Day 2 views</td></tr>
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Just before getting to camp on day 2 we were hit by a huge rain/hailstorm. I got completely soaked, including my boots and was freezing cold. I was worried because I didn't think my boots would ever dry and was afraid I wouldn't be able to summit with frozen boots. Luckily, the guides dried my boots in the kitchen tent overnight and the next day I was able to hike.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The remnants of the hail</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Many, many tents</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Morning view from my tent at Shira Camp. Life above the clouds with Mt. Meru in the distance.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTlm1ikuFiekneqh35j6DsPSC7VelMEz4Fq4sngb2xudfn7u8XRh7ipxetnUVv8nADSNwzcQQD7C3n0ZOp9SrzS2cGYECYWqGwzTdRy3tLJ5DsEIwCYfZxKxUTt_1vzzslRPBftCOj89JE/s1600/DSCN1798.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTlm1ikuFiekneqh35j6DsPSC7VelMEz4Fq4sngb2xudfn7u8XRh7ipxetnUVv8nADSNwzcQQD7C3n0ZOp9SrzS2cGYECYWqGwzTdRy3tLJ5DsEIwCYfZxKxUTt_1vzzslRPBftCOj89JE/s1600/DSCN1798.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With my dry boots, I'm ready to hike on day 3! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirYlqLdf_L086mx07-RuVzrm4y03w7durd60tC7zoLmWsm510N0swNMw6zoK2Y_7LG0YWmJ1u63eVLo9GZfRh8VI64_OzYpNavYtbM9BiBaYTa9_Hq0CrWZPJAcpj5mGHnsEw1Vdwsl4Np/s1600/DSCN1780.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirYlqLdf_L086mx07-RuVzrm4y03w7durd60tC7zoLmWsm510N0swNMw6zoK2Y_7LG0YWmJ1u63eVLo9GZfRh8VI64_OzYpNavYtbM9BiBaYTa9_Hq0CrWZPJAcpj5mGHnsEw1Vdwsl4Np/s1600/DSCN1780.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A sneak peek of the peak!</td></tr>
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Day 3: Shira Camp (3850m) to Barranco Camp (3940m) via Lava Tower (4600m) for acclimitization<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJxh5KrwPZNMq5gPA7HB7kl94p5VQn4z_ilF3emuNpkmR6R3Mgt8rRnWpWBHwmLaMe_SQeufPaLC8wh2_7rSKq6awdLRhPo27DzM8dQvizcdxPzFay4aDnXvPHC5-lvlJZKxgYGyl7BE2Z/s1600/DSCN1810.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJxh5KrwPZNMq5gPA7HB7kl94p5VQn4z_ilF3emuNpkmR6R3Mgt8rRnWpWBHwmLaMe_SQeufPaLC8wh2_7rSKq6awdLRhPo27DzM8dQvizcdxPzFay4aDnXvPHC5-lvlJZKxgYGyl7BE2Z/s1600/DSCN1810.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Braced against the incoming hail.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waiting to sign in at Barranco Camp</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVLfeAL8ijji7YfHK76Dufk14Y3TeMzwO4_ydyyaxPQOgx96HroBUBhFuJBpIE7B-Oo_SdAqInsnSqqwqSxPKBBaGJN0QVpKFEKekQX_CcGk3uC-4jWxWeoq0_R3PKh3OCioKPCFcPsr8u/s1600/DSCN1831.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVLfeAL8ijji7YfHK76Dufk14Y3TeMzwO4_ydyyaxPQOgx96HroBUBhFuJBpIE7B-Oo_SdAqInsnSqqwqSxPKBBaGJN0QVpKFEKekQX_CcGk3uC-4jWxWeoq0_R3PKh3OCioKPCFcPsr8u/s1600/DSCN1831.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our guides and porters greeted us with a Swahili welcome song as we arrived at camp on day 3. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisWu6YujDMiAbXfB1LYyS-uPLeBrTQW1cPls2Y9xV7ih9d3-eBhDN7wixRBbsxdsG5D3wcUKV-dpYx9Rf6EEEtWQc-lUNPyCiqYzcoBSsBW7aLybcSY0yUFsLjLkeS7FsIq995MEtHW1ks/s1600/DSCN1834.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisWu6YujDMiAbXfB1LYyS-uPLeBrTQW1cPls2Y9xV7ih9d3-eBhDN7wixRBbsxdsG5D3wcUKV-dpYx9Rf6EEEtWQc-lUNPyCiqYzcoBSsBW7aLybcSY0yUFsLjLkeS7FsIq995MEtHW1ks/s1600/DSCN1834.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Barranco camp was my favorite--it had the best view.</td></tr>
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Day 4: Barranco Camp (3940m) to Karanga Camp (4000m) via Barranco Walls (4250m)</div>
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Day 4 hiking was great--we hiked up the Barranco walls and then back down to Karanga camp. There was a major traffic jam going up, but that's what happens when 800 people are all trying to go to the same place.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW-zQY9lSJX0bq4wK6WasQlGk09OTkYxmJW7eMl23mz7B3CnIy4R7lpjH0nJfZTRda2VeXKAx73Cs4DinbGZjvT1NMtIjRdPbhe2pFNgdjxuF3B2ASHNVt9S5-NgNZkO6C79-Rzz38erqJ/s1600/DSCN1838.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW-zQY9lSJX0bq4wK6WasQlGk09OTkYxmJW7eMl23mz7B3CnIy4R7lpjH0nJfZTRda2VeXKAx73Cs4DinbGZjvT1NMtIjRdPbhe2pFNgdjxuF3B2ASHNVt9S5-NgNZkO6C79-Rzz38erqJ/s1600/DSCN1838.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See the line of people heading up the walls? So many people!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj85Eqe0_JyCEOZA6tGBd6jajkBJd-7xgAPKwSjxu8KHXWBdJdVF2hytp6lkqIAEBs7H7pF25r4MZXUdcg821os7QlmkW8_5MA83LEb6-FlPUMlVuLmuQ7HdCIi-tGQE8CWKrFPLojRJew-/s1600/DSCN1846.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj85Eqe0_JyCEOZA6tGBd6jajkBJd-7xgAPKwSjxu8KHXWBdJdVF2hytp6lkqIAEBs7H7pF25r4MZXUdcg821os7QlmkW8_5MA83LEb6-FlPUMlVuLmuQ7HdCIi-tGQE8CWKrFPLojRJew-/s1600/DSCN1846.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waiting for the traffic jam to clear...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img height="300" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-f-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-xap1/v/t1.0-9/10906267_10152918724466075_480871143570200095_n.jpg?oh=7e330206deafa2617ccbaa70083d3d9f&oe=55698F0C&__gda__=1428737845_a10417c32e06422414648ecda3f93dcb" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the top of the Barranco walls (photo thanks to Sam K.)</td></tr>
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Day 5: Karanga Camp (4000m) to Barafu Camp (4600m)</div>
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Day 5 was a big day. We hiked to base camp (Barafu), had a hot lunch, then napped for a few hours before being woken up again at 6 pm for dinner. Then we slept for a few more hours before being woken up at 11 pm to get ready for the summit. We briefly celebrated the beginning of 2015 (it was new year's eve) before setting out for the summit. After 5 hours of inching up the mountain we reached Stella Point right before sunrise. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXztdX3e4QV6EAcGOqDD0rbFEkRdRttNt9ZHJhNPzR9V5zsQuQlXSNaDu4whK_VYuCt3LACaRDnnEx2RJCnRqSVd31vqniYMz8wxFqitViWYsUFMCgEo2ftWtdppt3XOos8kTb5H4eGsAI/s1600/DSCN1919.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXztdX3e4QV6EAcGOqDD0rbFEkRdRttNt9ZHJhNPzR9V5zsQuQlXSNaDu4whK_VYuCt3LACaRDnnEx2RJCnRqSVd31vqniYMz8wxFqitViWYsUFMCgEo2ftWtdppt3XOos8kTb5H4eGsAI/s1600/DSCN1919.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stella Point: 18,885 ft</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsc_ciqHXzDxREW_ri_wc_6hSB2P3bevxNl78MxOtTQ6hNrQZCFsVYSrfQ3_QsUAKz205co5LsikMmOzpFQEmIXaK_Zn6ow4qWYJsaUIMzPCWBd-63f-R-B74Kv5TncVUXD6dso1PvkUEt/s1600/DSCN1911.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsc_ciqHXzDxREW_ri_wc_6hSB2P3bevxNl78MxOtTQ6hNrQZCFsVYSrfQ3_QsUAKz205co5LsikMmOzpFQEmIXaK_Zn6ow4qWYJsaUIMzPCWBd-63f-R-B74Kv5TncVUXD6dso1PvkUEt/s1600/DSCN1911.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first sunrise of 2015</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Glaciers of Kili.</td></tr>
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After a few pictures and warm tea we continued on to Uhuru peak, just 30 minutes away. Uhuru is the tallest point on the mountain and of course we had to get there. </div>
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Day 6: Barafu camp (4600m) to Mweka Hut (3100m)</div>
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After the summit we went back down to base camp, rested for a few hours, and then packed up and headed down to Mweka Camp. For me, the downhill was harder than any of the uphill. My toes hurt from being slammed into my boots and my legs were tired from having to control them so much on the downhill. Once we got to Mweka Camp we were exhausted and ready to get off the mountain. Only one more day! AND we could breathe again without struggle--amazing!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and my main porter, Andrew. He was one of the three porters who came with us up to the summit. His strength is amazing. I gave him my gloves and hat at the end of the trip.</td></tr>
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Day 7: Mweka Camp (3100m) to Mweka Gate (1800m)</div>
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On the last day we woke up and hiked out to the Mweka Gate. We had made it! After receiving our certificates and signing out we went back to the hostel, took showers, and drank masala chai. Yum yum.</div>
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Climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro has been a goal of mine since high school and I still can't quite believe I've actually done it. I am so thankful for the opportunity to complete the climb and to do it with such amazing friends. I can't wait for the next adventure.</div>
Sienna Laughtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08264272138884813622noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7863218770757578141.post-27404002154504224122014-12-16T04:16:00.001-08:002014-12-16T04:20:56.531-08:00Puto Kame: SIDA mataBack in February of last year a student of mine, Gift, asked if I could help him make some music videos for songs he had written. At the time I had no video editing software and only my small point-and-shoot camera, but we spent a day and recorded five different songs in various locations in my yard. Nothing much happened for a long time after that, but in October I told him that I had recently gotten some video editing software. For a few weeks we worked on editing some of his music videos and putting them on youtube. Then I had an idea. "Would you be interested in writing some songs about HIV or malaria?" I asked. "Sure," he said, "but I have no money record the songs. It costs 350 meticais to record a song." "I can pay for the recording if you write the songs," I said. 350 meticais is about 12 dollars. The next day he came to my house with the lyrics to his HIV/AIDS song and malaria song. It was only a few days before I left for the states so I gave him some money to record one of the songs. "When I get back, we'll make the music video," I told him.<br />
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A few days after I got back from the states Gift appeared at my house and played me his song. He had chosen to record the HIV/AIDS song first. A few days later we spent the morning making a music video to go with the music. Here is a link to the video we made:<br />
<a href="http://youtu.be/x6QpnUC3UTk" rel="nofollow" style="background-color: white; color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">http://youtu.be/x6QpnUC3UTk</a><br />
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The title of the song is called SIDA mata, which means AIDS kills. Here are the rest of the lyrics in English:<br />
<i>AIDS, AIDS, AIDS kills mama</i><br />
<i>AIDS, AIDS, AIDS kills papa</i><br />
<i>AIDS, AIDS, AIDS, kills friends </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Be careful with AIDS, it kills you</i><br />
<i>Be careful with HIV</i><br />
<i>If you play with AIDS papa, you will die young</i><br />
<i>If you play with AIDS mama, you will die young</i><br />
<i>If you play with AIDS brother, you will die young</i><br />
<i>AIDS kills</i><br />
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<i>AIDS has no friends</i><br />
<i>AIDS has no family</i><br />
<i>Mama, use a condom to protect yourself</i><br />
<i>Papa, use a condom to protect yourself</i><br />
<i>Friend, use a condom to protect yourself</i><br />
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<i>AIDS, AIDS, AIDS kills mama</i><br />
<i>AIDS, AIDS, AIDS kills papa</i><br />
<i>AIDS, AIDS, AIDS, kills friends</i><br />
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I am so proud of this project and happy for opportunity to spread awareness and information about HIV/AIDS. I have heard that the HIV rate in Zobue is 30% (since it is a border town) and in Mozambique overall it is 12%.<br />
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Next project, malaria.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">band photos</td></tr>
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<br />Sienna Laughtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08264272138884813622noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7863218770757578141.post-24531919241071740742014-12-10T06:41:00.001-08:002014-12-10T06:43:55.416-08:00Chuva!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
After many months of the dry season we finally got our first good downpour in Zobue. This marks the beginning of the rainy season. People in Zobue have been preparing their fields for months and will now plant their corn. Hopefully it will be a good growing year with the right combination of rain and sun. For the children of Zobue the first rainstorms are a fun novelty and a chance to play.</div>
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<br />Sienna Laughtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08264272138884813622noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7863218770757578141.post-54150164550517469772014-12-07T02:52:00.002-08:002014-12-07T02:52:34.989-08:00Mozambican smiles<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
In the United States and in a lot of other countries we are trained to smile for photographs. Whenever someone is taking a picture, our automatic response is to smile--even if we don't necessarily feel like it. In Mozambique, it is the complete opposite. There are have been many times when people have been smiling widely until it is time to take their photo and then they immediately sober up and look extremely serious. This is sad for me because many people I know here have such beautiful smiles, but it is almost impossible to catch them smiling in a photograph. "Sega!" I tell them, "Smile!" (Sega is smile in Nyungue). Despite my best efforts, my coaxing is rarely successful. For example, a few days ago I gave away some presents to the neighbor kids and they were all smiles until I asked to take their photos. Here they are with some of their presents:</div>
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The best smiles I see are after I've taken a photo of someone and am showing them the photo on my camera. I wish I had another camera to capture them smiling at the photos on my camera.</div>
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Sometimes I try to sneak photos of people smiling. Yesterday I gave an american flag hat to a friend of mine and he was so happy I really wanted to get a photo of him. I snapped a photo while he was smiling and it turned out great:</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Senhor Cebola modeling his hat.</td></tr>
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I was happy with the photo, but he didn't like it and wanted me to take another photo of him. He said I had "caught him with his teeth out." This is the one he liked best:</div>
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Senhor Cebola's comment about catching him with his teeth out was interesting to me. I had thought that Mozambicans' reluctance to smile for photographs was simply that they weren't used to having photos taken of them, but maybe there is more to it. Maybe they consider showing teeth to be impolite. Maybe by not smiling for photos they are showing respect. I'll have to ask my cultural consultants Silvia, Albertina, Leme, and Servina.</div>
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<br />Sienna Laughtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08264272138884813622noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7863218770757578141.post-9361117372365472672014-12-05T09:46:00.000-08:002014-12-05T09:46:55.796-08:00November travelsIt's been almost a month since my last post because I've been living in an alternate reality called international air travel and a magical place called the United States. In November I spent a few weeks in California and Alaska. Did you know that you can get from Tete, Mozambique to Los Angeles in only 36 hours? Did you know that ALL the bathrooms at the Johannesburg airport are clean and always have flush toilets, toilet paper, running water, soap, AND paper towels or those hot air blower things to dry your hands? Did you know that people at the Dubai airport are respectful and quiet and don't play their music on their phones at maximum volume or have conversations in loud voices?<br />
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Also, in the United States when you go to a restaurant the waitress or waiter brings you water right away and takes your order in a timely fashion and you don't even have to wait 2 hours for your food! In the United States you can go to a grocery store and walk through aisles and aisles of SO MUCH FOOD! The vegetables are GIANT and there is so much variety! Broccoli, zucchini, red peppers, orange peppers, YELLOW peppers, eggplant, cauliflower, spinach, spring mix, herb spring mix, spinach and spring mix mix. There are packaged vegetables already cut up just waiting to be steamed. There are 10 types of hummus. There are three different ways you can choose to buy your fresh basil. On my first trip to the grocery store I was overwhelmed and I hadn't even gotten out of the produce section. <br />
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Life in Mozambique and life in the United States is very, very different, but surprisingly I didn't have as hard a time adjusting as I'd thought I would. There were times I would exclaim about how different things were or when I was excited about a certain type of food (greek yogurt! cheese! tortilla chips! salsa! spring rolls! avocados! berries!), but overall it seemed like I was living in two separate realities and it was easy to adjust back to life in the United States. For the past year I have been living in Mozambique and have gotten used to life without running water, toilet paper, and food variety, but I lived in United States for 24 years before that so when I was back in that environment it seemed pretty normal. <br />
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Another great thing about the United States (at least in the winter) is that it's cold! I didn't sweat ALL the time! I could wear a sweater, jeans, socks, even a jacket, hat, and gloves! Also, there are almost no bugs and no dirt. I could go a whole day (or a few days) without needing a bath. Though I must admit, I did shower almost everyday because there is nothing better than a hot shower and then getting out and NOT sweating!<br />
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Though the food was great and the cold was wonderful, the best part of being home was seeing all my family and friends. I wasn't able to see EVERYONE on this trip, but I was able to visit with a whopping total of at least 63 (give or take a few) friends and family members. Thank you so much to everyone for taking the time to spend with me, even if it was only for a short time! Knowing I have so many people at home who love and support me and are interested in what I'm doing is so important. I'm incredibly thankful for all of you!<br />
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I am very grateful for the opportunity to be at home for a bit (thank you Dad!). Leaving to come back to Mozambique was extremely hard. I didn't want to leave. The thought of leaving a place where I felt so comfortable (in all senses of the word) to return to a place where I feel uncomfortable (again, in all senses of the word) a lot of the time made me cry. If I didn't have a trip planned to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro in December I'm not sure I would have come back. <br />
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I'm now back in Mozambique. I'm back in my village, back in my house, back to my neighbors and friends. Back to sweating all day as my fan blows hot air at me. Back to speaking Portuguese and trying to learn Nyungue. When I arrived in Zobue the kids in my neighborhood yelled my name and my baby neighbor smiled and stretched out his arms to be picked up. It was great to see my friends Leme and Servina and their daughters Suneila and Marnela again. I was also happy to see my friends Silvia, Albertina, and the rest of their siblings. In the days I've been back many people have greeted me happily saying, "You disappeared!" "Yes," I say, "I went home, but now I'm back."<br />
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I'll be here in Zobue for a few weeks, then I leave for my trip to Kilimanjaro. In January I have a mid-service Peace Corps conference in Maputo and then school starts again in February. I've thought a lot about whether I want to spend another year of my life as a Peace Corps volunteer in Mozambique. I want to finish my commitment, but I know that if I am unhappy all the time I won't be a good volunteer. Right now I'm taking it one day at a time. If I can keep a good attitude about being here, I'll stay. But if I am angry and frustrated all the time I won't be doing anyone any good here. We'll see what happens once school starts. Stay tuned.Sienna Laughtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08264272138884813622noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7863218770757578141.post-48295503742403420952014-11-07T04:06:00.002-08:002014-11-07T04:06:39.932-08:00Hot season is bug season!Just a quick post about some interesting bug experiences I've had lately. It seems like this time of year is definitely the time of year for crazy bugs--or else this week has just been unusually full of insect encounters. Here is a list of some recent confrontations. Unfortunately I don't have any pictures of these creatures because I'm usually too busy trying to kill them to snap a photo. Can you blame me?<br />
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1. At Quinta Monte on Monday we were sitting outside in a pavilion-style building with a grass roof when a huge bug started running all around the floor. It looked like a combination between a spider and a scorpion, but instead of a curved tail it had two long horn-like things in the front. It was maybe about 6 inches long. I didn't do anything at first, but when it started coming towards our table I got up, promptly took off my chaco, and started to whack at it. Since it was so big it took a couple of good blows to finish it off. It must have been an unusual insect because one of the waiters came over and took a picture of the corpse with his camera. It happened pretty fast so I didn't get a very good look at it, but I think it may have been a camel spider.<br />
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2. The next day Emma, Kevin, Amanda, and I were sitting at the table when someone noticed a large spider on the wall. It was different than the usual daddylonglegs-like spiders that are constantly living in our light fixtures--those we have become so accustomed to that killing them seems unnecessary. They eat bugs, right? But this one was large, about the size of a half dollar, and flat. In my memory it was hairy, but that could have been my imagination. Regardless, it warranted immediate killing. It was up high in the corner between the wall and the ceiling so I gave Emma my flipflop so she could squish it (she's a lot taller than me). She couldn't quite reach it so she got on a chair and hit at it with the flip flop. What happened next occurred in the space of a few adrenaline-filled seconds and has become what I now think of as the great spider-killing relay of 2014. On the first hit Emma didn't quite get the spider and it dropped on the floor, scurrying away under the table. "I can't step on it, I'm not wearing shoes!" I yelled. Emma quickly dropped the flip flop she was holding to me. I caught it and lunged under the table to easily squish it with one well-aimed smack. It was pretty soft and didn't need repeated whacks like the camel spider. I looked up, laughing with relief, and saw that both Kevin and Amanda were standing on their chairs looking terrified. "Your crossfit skills really came in handy there!" said Emma. "One second you were standing next to me and the next second you were under the table." "Yeah, it was all a blur," I responded, "I was just acting on instinct." It was a spectacular example of teamwork at its best. <br />
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3. I feel like I kept my cool during both of the previous spider incidents, but I have to admit this next one freaked me out a bit. It was Tuesday evening and we were sitting outside under a mango tree in Professor Batana's yard, waiting for dinner to be ready. It was a bit windy and one gust blew a mango leaf down onto my shirt. Except it wasn't a mango leaf. I looked down and immediately sprang up, yelling some expletives as I tried to figure out what was on my shirt. Once Professor Batana had calmly brushed it off of me I was able to inspect the object that had landed on me. It looked like a flat caterpillar about 8 inches long with frilly stuff coming off of it. The closer I looked the more it became obvious that it was adapted to camouflage itself against the tree trunk. It was actually a wonderful specimen and I'm glad we didn't kill it. I wonder if I'll ever see a caterpillar like that again. I just hope it doesn't land on my shirt the next time.<br />
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4. Those three stories are definitely the most exciting, but every day here there are new bugs that appear. Just today a giant beetle the size of a quarter was hanging out with me as I worked out in our spare bedroom. The other day a giant bug with super speed crawled up our electric water kettle before I smashed it with my flip flop. The ants in our house are taking over. They crawl in our dishes, in our water jugs, and all over our floors. I've heard they go away once the rains start so I'm looking forward to that. Maybe some of the other giant bugs will go away too.<br />
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<br />Sienna Laughtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08264272138884813622noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7863218770757578141.post-70406024981530966112014-11-07T02:58:00.000-08:002014-11-07T02:58:25.787-08:00Site Visitors<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
This past week Emma and I hosted two visitors in Zobue, Amanda and Kevin. Both Amanda and Kevin are part of Moz 23, the newest group of volunteers to arrive in Mozambique. They are currently in training in Namaacha and will begin teaching in February. This week the members of Moz 23 traveled to different parts of Mozambique to get a sense of what life is like for volunteers in the field. It was fun to host Amanda and Kevin in Zobue, though it seemed a bit surreal. It seems like just yesterday that I was the trainee visiting a seasoned volunteer, but now I AM the seasoned volunteer imparting my 'wisdom'. Though most of the time I still feel like I'm figuring out how to live here, having these guests made me realize that Zobue has become my home and I'm more comfortable here than I realize. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Emma, Kevin, and Amanda enjoying Chipotle-style burrito bowls on their first night in Zobue.</td></tr>
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<br />Kevin and Amanda arrived in Zobue Sunday evening. On Monday we walked to the market in the morning and they went to the school with Emma in the afternoon. For dinner on Monday we took them to Quinta Monte for grilled chicken and fries. They enjoyed the view of Mt. Zobue, the beer, and the chicken.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On Tuesday, Kevin and Amanda got to help me with my Livro Aberto reading program.</td></tr>
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On Tuesday evening, we went to the home of a fellow professor for dinner. We made hamburgers and they made chicken and fries. It was a delicious meal. It was fun to spend time with Professor Batana and his family. Unfortunately, I have no photos of that meal.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg66XgRHs2xCzwNn_uhqtYcABjqAdYnVYGdIR_FF3SqILhrU09pcd1UPmgZqCmbVYh8yafpAjlCvnTGQLtdO240SBs5V8VU7dgx6-cx_2_OS5CxN9MBA-CECfapL8YahgdXj8RLgwuVVmLH/s1600/DSCN1169.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg66XgRHs2xCzwNn_uhqtYcABjqAdYnVYGdIR_FF3SqILhrU09pcd1UPmgZqCmbVYh8yafpAjlCvnTGQLtdO240SBs5V8VU7dgx6-cx_2_OS5CxN9MBA-CECfapL8YahgdXj8RLgwuVVmLH/s1600/DSCN1169.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On Wednesday, Kevin, Amanda, and I got up at 5 am to hike Mt. Zobue. The idea was to get up before the heat, which was a good idea since Wednesday was a scorcher.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1t5vxYOUXQ7qwdoVvZ5Hk5C6MrS3RD_AVJQUTOKNBXfVcSanpM6tWA8VOeWikFQWRChhbJv19OUUbiYnPxbswlWN08TSqzJAwPbSZifvPSWfRKEfiowBd40-8VtChaA7iON3KoXRAJSgY/s1600/DSCN1170.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1t5vxYOUXQ7qwdoVvZ5Hk5C6MrS3RD_AVJQUTOKNBXfVcSanpM6tWA8VOeWikFQWRChhbJv19OUUbiYnPxbswlWN08TSqzJAwPbSZifvPSWfRKEfiowBd40-8VtChaA7iON3KoXRAJSgY/s1600/DSCN1170.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We made it to the summit by 7:30am!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGNrO2KivwhMNlKdV3v8J1E3wDKj3DojebuXmOWHdN4L1C7sLr8-mY0fQuQOjJH38Nqj2cCs-fw9SR_PSpbB2P-rZmSI3XLAkooyniBx8yluSS8sQegMnU-F2yfVmAoUaQb7JeWOLFeCaV/s1600/DSCN1171.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGNrO2KivwhMNlKdV3v8J1E3wDKj3DojebuXmOWHdN4L1C7sLr8-mY0fQuQOjJH38Nqj2cCs-fw9SR_PSpbB2P-rZmSI3XLAkooyniBx8yluSS8sQegMnU-F2yfVmAoUaQb7JeWOLFeCaV/s1600/DSCN1171.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View of Zobue and the border marker.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiatd8Lg6AZfWiYyiFa7hnFCwDhS56Abd_pn9894UO-mVIOVl9QJ0wlAvkjGMxNxi6KRhx-7EEti0sKjDAmlzDiu77Lhp5wMRP-XGxLDt6sshIZdpYfd7yfmpXzcQ845gNtUyW2GYyAq1Id/s1600/DSCN1172.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiatd8Lg6AZfWiYyiFa7hnFCwDhS56Abd_pn9894UO-mVIOVl9QJ0wlAvkjGMxNxi6KRhx-7EEti0sKjDAmlzDiu77Lhp5wMRP-XGxLDt6sshIZdpYfd7yfmpXzcQ845gNtUyW2GYyAq1Id/s1600/DSCN1172.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ant highway! This was literally the most ants I've ever seen. There were hundreds of ants crawling along a highway lined with the bodies of dead ants...Mozambique has some crazy inset life! See below for a video of the any highway.</td></tr>
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<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwWur4dzRi5JlxC09QGK-u_6lpyWhSK9MB834V0MrzPjKbniXA9R6bhRQQrp07LrrkxgA1HAYFw_W8Q-nMmwQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGpW9AB3okIINUvxqcgBp_iQ4UIYSojqKzExUnoGNcy3dS9dKmsUrYhIQXDd9O201ZWbZtOwosSdmvFKjvDCI50wwZQxaJU5ed14qjKRuK0cU9SKjAKS8u8_j7aIl_p2Vb19cZyuNsTG1M/s1600/DSCN1175.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGpW9AB3okIINUvxqcgBp_iQ4UIYSojqKzExUnoGNcy3dS9dKmsUrYhIQXDd9O201ZWbZtOwosSdmvFKjvDCI50wwZQxaJU5ed14qjKRuK0cU9SKjAKS8u8_j7aIl_p2Vb19cZyuNsTG1M/s1600/DSCN1175.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the way down the mountain, we ran across a field that was actually irrigated! It was the first example of irrigation I've seen in Zobue so I had to take a picture.</td></tr>
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All too soon, it was time for Kevin and Amanda to head back to Maputo. It was very fun having them visit and I wish them the best for their Peace Corps experience. I can't wait to see where they end up in Mozambique!</div>
<br />Sienna Laughtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08264272138884813622noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7863218770757578141.post-71456177567319315752014-11-05T08:28:00.000-08:002014-11-05T08:28:27.646-08:00Livro Aberto<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
In the past few weeks I've been working on developing the program for the Zobue Community Library, also known as Livro Aberto Zobue. Livro Aberto means Open Book in Portuguese. Since the beginning of October we've been able to do community library programming where the children actually get to choose books to read and read them independently. It is very exciting for these students because many of them have probably never touched a book before, let alone new books with lots of colorful pictures. Right now we are holding the community library program from 10-12 on Tuesday mornings. We've settled on a schedule that has worked well for the past few weeks.</div>
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First, we start with a Bom Dia (good morning) song. This activity helps settle the kids and introduce them by name. Second we go over the alphabet. Our goal is for all the students to know the names of the letters. </div>
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After practicing the alphabet a few times we transition to our letter of the day. We learn about the sounds of the letter, how to write the letter, and we draw a few things that start with that letter. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhtoJqyBggxjWkgK1leq6KM_tOjRUnPz_oGMqeUoPOg8u5Cd4YFpnQciSHl1MGaM9R14FlYk5WeCJPB_kA6yhsrAwUkfNsoMo6c7QR87z7RjbWa5SjvsUO_U39fX-xTMgAnDlQj46b-byP/s1600/DSCN1105.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhtoJqyBggxjWkgK1leq6KM_tOjRUnPz_oGMqeUoPOg8u5Cd4YFpnQciSHl1MGaM9R14FlYk5WeCJPB_kA6yhsrAwUkfNsoMo6c7QR87z7RjbWa5SjvsUO_U39fX-xTMgAnDlQj46b-byP/s1600/DSCN1105.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This week our letter of the day was the letter F. In this photo I am asking the students who has seen a formiga (ant) in their house lately. It is ant season here so almost everyone should be raising their hands.</td></tr>
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Next, I ask for volunteers to name other words that start with F. This week we came up with words like faca, final, Francisco, and falta.</div>
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After going over the letter on the board, the students write down the words in the notebooks.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMo1virQ159LBV6L5_OZbqc-LVF5n-DtJ24iJ-gC2OXWLR101hIi3Dacj1AvmZhWmDxZDyzS48LNaWHaC5Bk8EjjJtnTzIWpxlOeYsTKADEFs6WXqCyMKLeGjOlQz9_oYwWMJFXH6uYrSv/s1600/DSCN1132.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMo1virQ159LBV6L5_OZbqc-LVF5n-DtJ24iJ-gC2OXWLR101hIi3Dacj1AvmZhWmDxZDyzS48LNaWHaC5Bk8EjjJtnTzIWpxlOeYsTKADEFs6WXqCyMKLeGjOlQz9_oYwWMJFXH6uYrSv/s1600/DSCN1132.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In this photo I am helping a students write the letter F.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Children working on writing their letter Fs.</td></tr>
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After the writing and drawing activity, we do a little song and dance to get the kids moving a bit. They love this song because they get to jump around and be silly.</div>
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After a quick break it is time for read aloud. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghPpd9mKjUijLg3TOIiDPdSop_HIW-3vKDUxIsBxXqAwKk28rA8zGbLT4XqEvSeqbm7VaGsV7ihwQiAzhr2nFppeLstam5Xg4sk9SpZ10wJXb9r_nmso9sD17s4u4YZzLUficMZs9kRry1/s1600/DSCN1149.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghPpd9mKjUijLg3TOIiDPdSop_HIW-3vKDUxIsBxXqAwKk28rA8zGbLT4XqEvSeqbm7VaGsV7ihwQiAzhr2nFppeLstam5Xg4sk9SpZ10wJXb9r_nmso9sD17s4u4YZzLUficMZs9kRry1/s1600/DSCN1149.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here I am reading the book David Vai a Escola</td></tr>
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Finally, the last activity of the day is independent reading. Since we have students from 5th grade and students from 2nd and 3rd grades, I have each 5th grader find one or two younger students to read with. After washing hands (very important before touching books) the children can choose books to read.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH6WPnLXPzHdGrEDpQx_15xANQKajVgh7MSer95KVxCOicWnZ-ACgN2qk-ncJctA4lA8qd-Yq7Ctws0mgRqz_L5oWp-N_I8172GPa6AsJaWK_YZ_74i40m38mLlWv4deSQZ1u6Uzm38nhS/s1600/DSCN1157.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH6WPnLXPzHdGrEDpQx_15xANQKajVgh7MSer95KVxCOicWnZ-ACgN2qk-ncJctA4lA8qd-Yq7Ctws0mgRqz_L5oWp-N_I8172GPa6AsJaWK_YZ_74i40m38mLlWv4deSQZ1u6Uzm38nhS/s1600/DSCN1157.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reading time!</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPZ2cyBJ1EUpjU1OiM3-YrbSL_207TFr7Na6rBaJdjBO0FskNICBfMA_ZjuaL18U5C8eNVWu2wbcodj6_gGYwnl3YTZKz1IJ9AnlFYZGkokwq-E9_YQ21QL1_FiedgzqrCKJxOpF-qPSDD/s1600/DSCN1158.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPZ2cyBJ1EUpjU1OiM3-YrbSL_207TFr7Na6rBaJdjBO0FskNICBfMA_ZjuaL18U5C8eNVWu2wbcodj6_gGYwnl3YTZKz1IJ9AnlFYZGkokwq-E9_YQ21QL1_FiedgzqrCKJxOpF-qPSDD/s1600/DSCN1158.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A 5th grade student helps a younger student read a book about colors.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidcV6J61mPWj3qxiG0kycA4ME5-h69KHwPW6aGUwoziI2ppJ1Pi9NYygpfBSR2OlIw_fa5TytATrDwPh7uouYCHkfkQuttg4aYSLKD0UXuxXWdOBgtHoFQZQtfFlHbcP9uPF56HgNhf_uf/s1600/DSCN1163.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidcV6J61mPWj3qxiG0kycA4ME5-h69KHwPW6aGUwoziI2ppJ1Pi9NYygpfBSR2OlIw_fa5TytATrDwPh7uouYCHkfkQuttg4aYSLKD0UXuxXWdOBgtHoFQZQtfFlHbcP9uPF56HgNhf_uf/s1600/DSCN1163.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Nao David books are a big hit.</td></tr>
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So far the reading program has been going really well. It will be challenging keeping it going during the holidays, but I hope to start up again when school starts again next year. My goals for next year are to train community members or other teachers to help run the program and perhaps expand the program to more days. I am so thankful for the opportunity to develop this program in Zobue. Photo credits to Kevin Nguyen.<br />
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Sienna Laughtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08264272138884813622noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7863218770757578141.post-51508385991149875142014-10-16T05:30:00.001-07:002014-10-16T05:30:39.750-07:00Mountain CookingOver the past few months I've continued to take some kids from Zobue hiking in the mountains on Saturday afternoons. Most of the time it's just a quick walk and then we get cookies afterwards, but last week the kids asked if we could bring rice and cook on the mountain. "You want to cook food on the mountain?" I asked. "YES!" they said. <i>Ok, why not?</i> I thought. So that is how I last Saturday I found myself on the rocks behind my house, helping ten-year old girls cook rice and macaroni while the boys ran around collecting firewood.<br />
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We built the fires using three rocks to rest the pot on and poking sticks through the gaps between the rocks. Everything is extremely dry this time of year and it was windy up there so the fires burned well. In no time we were boiling water and cooking away! </div>
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As we waited for the food to cook, the kids had a great time jumping, dancing, and doing acrobatics for the camera. </div>
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Finally, it was time to eat. The kids crowded around the food with plastic bags and pot lids (we didn't bring any plates or silverware) and the oldest girl portioned out the food using a small tupperware container. In true Mozambican fashion there was a lot of yelling and arguing over who got what, but eventually everyone seemed to be happy. Also true to Mozambican culture, the boys went off to eat in a separate area while the girls grouped around the pots and scooped out food with their hands. Coming from a culture where eating meals together very important, this separation of gender is still strange to me. In Mozambique families rarely eat together, most often members of the family will eat at very different times throughout the day. Conversation at mealtimes is also rare. I miss a culture that values family meal time and conversation. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here, the girls are guarding the rest of their food from the boys who want to take more.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The boys eating in their area.</td></tr>
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After eating, the kids quickly found some pieces of plastic and scraps of cardboard to use as sleds to slide down the rocks. Someone had even built a landing pit made of dry leaves so the kids could do flips and trick landings at the end of the slide.</div>
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This Saturday cooking time with the kids was fun, but it also made the gender roles in Mozambique extremely clear to me. The girls did all the cooking and cleaning up while the boys played around until the food was done and then made a fuss when the food wasn't perfect. These kids don't know any different and are probably fine with their situations, but it makes me feel lucky that I am from a culture with gender roles that aren't so rigid. </div>
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<br />Sienna Laughtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08264272138884813622noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7863218770757578141.post-46421716857881685552014-10-04T01:17:00.000-07:002014-10-04T01:17:54.319-07:00National Science FairTwo weeks after the Provincial Science Fair in Tete I travelled to the National Science Fair in Maputo. Students from each province competed in the fair, including the two students who won the Tete Provincial Fair. Overall, the National Fair was an impressive event. It was two full days in length and included presentations by the students, demonstrations by professors, cultural dance performances, and theater performances. Here are some photos of the event.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdHw8PgYhdTjqqAc8LPyLX8aFoTCKLBuhJZgFZBBd4c4Wl6W81rryvPlfuA3qmFcyJxzzDacGiqHQ-qC3pPUkSM_SCA0rucsEz9Yn04IKk30K9_ya4dcbH4jRrknEedwg4T6eryehh9kik/s1600/DSCN0722.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdHw8PgYhdTjqqAc8LPyLX8aFoTCKLBuhJZgFZBBd4c4Wl6W81rryvPlfuA3qmFcyJxzzDacGiqHQ-qC3pPUkSM_SCA0rucsEz9Yn04IKk30K9_ya4dcbH4jRrknEedwg4T6eryehh9kik/s1600/DSCN0722.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tarcisio, one of the students from Tete, and another competitor waiting for the event to start.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This student built a water distillation apparatus.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghfj68_dZJpWqyx0BdNOVNxGidDgCtI3FMMFCZ_7UzE9NEKekw_6y9spwDwqHI7a9N4srQ0ERw97KQIMYYhot5MxwOc2wjmgzTkqV49FZui3N9yMjNXTbrCey3W7QeYUBt0H_Msz60LEw5/s1600/DSCN0750.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghfj68_dZJpWqyx0BdNOVNxGidDgCtI3FMMFCZ_7UzE9NEKekw_6y9spwDwqHI7a9N4srQ0ERw97KQIMYYhot5MxwOc2wjmgzTkqV49FZui3N9yMjNXTbrCey3W7QeYUBt0H_Msz60LEw5/s1600/DSCN0750.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This student built a security system that would tell a guard which door or window the intruder entered in the case of a robbery.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This student built a scale for weighing vegetables or grains.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This student built an air-conditioner.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the dance groups</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the winners receiving her trophy.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The winners received laptops and medals.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHxTA9OdsMOSVKGDOg4i5Zc7xmtYuKR167gbIsph99TVNxXRodMZofMeDP4BE5soEN4YcqAd12hABJDqSUY5lXplpuZl0WNvawUqfN2Gn0-FGpPmWiQ1_xzStjG1DPIav3mRPNGYxFrGsG/s1600/DSCN0854.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHxTA9OdsMOSVKGDOg4i5Zc7xmtYuKR167gbIsph99TVNxXRodMZofMeDP4BE5soEN4YcqAd12hABJDqSUY5lXplpuZl0WNvawUqfN2Gn0-FGpPmWiQ1_xzStjG1DPIav3mRPNGYxFrGsG/s1600/DSCN0854.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My two students from Tete and me.</td></tr>
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Sienna Laughtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08264272138884813622noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7863218770757578141.post-29625071573072947152014-09-10T02:11:00.001-07:002014-09-10T02:13:11.609-07:00Provincial Science FairIt's been a while since my last post--since then I've spent a week in Nampula at a community library training conference, four days in Pemba visiting my friends Rayna and Kristina, a few days teaching in Zobue, and two weekends planning and realizing the Tete Province Science Fair in Tete City. <br />
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As provincial coordinator for science fair in Tete, I was responsible for making the Provincial Science Fair happen. I worked with a few people from the Ministry of Science and Technology in order to make T-shirts, order food, reserve the space, and make sure the students from the outlying districts knew about the fair. My counterparts were a huge help--I couldn't have done it without them. Regardless, there was certain amount of stress in anticipation of my first provincial science fair. Would we have enough food? Would the T-shirts be ready in time? Would I have enough money to reimburse people for travel to the fair? Would I get all the required forms filled out? Would the HIV testing organization show up?<br />
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I am happy to say that the fair went as well as I could have hoped for. It was a Mozambican event so it started 2 hours late, but we had enough food and T-shirts for everyone and most importantly, enough certificates for all the participants. Eighteen students from four districts participated in the fair by presenting their science projects to a panel of judges. More students from other districts would have shown up, but many teachers are already busy helping campaign for the October election and thus unable to accompany their students to the fair.<br />
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It was fun to see the different projects each student presented. Some of the projects included an electric kettle made from an old water jug, a solar oven, and a model of a city water system. The students each presented their project for ten minutes, then received feedback from the panel of judges and the audience.<br />
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The most frustrating part of the fair was hearing the judges and teachers give such negative feedback to the students. Mozambique doesn't seem to have a culture of positive reinforcement and constructive criticism. Feedback is extremely harsh and negative. As an American who has been raised to always mix positive feedback with areas for improvement, it is hard for me to listen to teachers and other adults harshly criticize and insult students for their less-than-perfect projects. <br />
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For example, one student made an amazing plane out of wire, paper, and other recycled items. He had even wired a battery into the plane so that it would move along the floor. Instead of complimenting the student on his creative project, the judges and other teachers told him that the plane should be flying instead of moving on the floor. They said he shouldn't have even presented the project since the plane didn't fly. The student looked completely dejected and probably won't want to participate next year.<br />
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Next year, if I help to coordinate the fair I want to focus of fostering a culture of positive reinforcement in order to encourage students instead of only criticizing them.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEXEXzLbZt7r73mfNPDKkLTvHnjVxeaOkfMNoPHXIqjwOGcJrUx6B2DLwUO78-rK6QfW81e9B4YEt9-aucmS1CoJxEsNHrFb0snmSRI1Q0c7a1A7bzYbTPPsSIreXMkDmkAeTuRoJ0quBU/s1600/DSCN0638.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEXEXzLbZt7r73mfNPDKkLTvHnjVxeaOkfMNoPHXIqjwOGcJrUx6B2DLwUO78-rK6QfW81e9B4YEt9-aucmS1CoJxEsNHrFb0snmSRI1Q0c7a1A7bzYbTPPsSIreXMkDmkAeTuRoJ0quBU/s1600/DSCN0638.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This girl one first place in the 8-10th grade division by extracting DNA from a banana.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This boy won first place in the 11-12th grade division by making a gel out of soap, wax, and oil that heals wounds and prevents HIV transmission.</td></tr>
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The two winners of the fair get to compete in the National Science Fair in Maputo. I will travel there with the two students on September 17th. It is an amazing opportunity for these students who have probably never left the province. I'm happy to be a part of this program and look forward to seeing the projects of the students from other provinces at the national fair.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjokj3HLTV4UhpbIaNJjR5IrsFTqieJtT5sTmyP1oggMiV00oHCAYIcerb3sQQv7V2FHtELAfK94_7e_z-GUSTGD7-MDAoroVJVVnxq8V-Dp9Tq-jUt8EMRbjPl3lDpIBzmNDQSem8Y79Vg/s1600/DSCN0632.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjokj3HLTV4UhpbIaNJjR5IrsFTqieJtT5sTmyP1oggMiV00oHCAYIcerb3sQQv7V2FHtELAfK94_7e_z-GUSTGD7-MDAoroVJVVnxq8V-Dp9Tq-jUt8EMRbjPl3lDpIBzmNDQSem8Y79Vg/s1600/DSCN0632.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Setting up for the fair</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Opening remarks</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSnIOEM3TlguQfbds825viT_bzpmDwJRvziQUcjA730RrZB31HWITcKyLgb9DJCJtgUbsPxd8VOwGQ3H3dK122jnrQ993zGT3bvyucfKp8HRmxaog6b0feD6v3eKZVc-YYNb6s5pIRBQEo/s1600/DSCN0649.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSnIOEM3TlguQfbds825viT_bzpmDwJRvziQUcjA730RrZB31HWITcKyLgb9DJCJtgUbsPxd8VOwGQ3H3dK122jnrQ993zGT3bvyucfKp8HRmxaog6b0feD6v3eKZVc-YYNb6s5pIRBQEo/s1600/DSCN0649.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There were about 60 people present at the fair</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjGFlXCiaZEAxqXb9lSuOnsquF9RmDRYONCawNwfrlzg5IlNZEFKJztmJeKOvXVAT7RYEcvhW9mo3darTDG-kAbnMZ2nfV4fA8Yh5qwpMgKLHCfTSAbizsYn9cEaz_5vFDnqoSMILluXX0/s1600/DSCN0650.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjGFlXCiaZEAxqXb9lSuOnsquF9RmDRYONCawNwfrlzg5IlNZEFKJztmJeKOvXVAT7RYEcvhW9mo3darTDG-kAbnMZ2nfV4fA8Yh5qwpMgKLHCfTSAbizsYn9cEaz_5vFDnqoSMILluXX0/s1600/DSCN0650.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Solar oven</td></tr>
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<br />Sienna Laughtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08264272138884813622noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7863218770757578141.post-22023092165770638452014-08-15T06:53:00.001-07:002014-08-15T06:53:23.229-07:00Mulanje Massif<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Last week I spent 5 days hiking on the Mulanje Massif, a huge group of mountains in southern Malawi. These mountains are made mostly of granite, a rock that is very resistant to erosion. Over thousands of years, the softer rocks around the granite have eroded, leaving the granite rising up dramatically from the plain. The massif has been called an island in the sky--and that's exactly what it's like. The forest service has built huts in various places on the mountain. Their fireplaces are a source of welcome warmth once the sun goes down at 6 pm. Even in Malawi, it gets very cold at 9,000 feet of elevation! </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrBDPLYikGatFx-ipg9wg8uE_JOSBsrrV93WqLUeMXuYe846cPN26BQSyHWeuwmXWPNIelqSG536zsujNqhkmnML-WvQq4EstW8ui1wjrA7wz_NMq_14X1mv5s9oOuWmSw3tbHjaUcx0Cl/s1600/DSCN0504.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrBDPLYikGatFx-ipg9wg8uE_JOSBsrrV93WqLUeMXuYe846cPN26BQSyHWeuwmXWPNIelqSG536zsujNqhkmnML-WvQq4EstW8ui1wjrA7wz_NMq_14X1mv5s9oOuWmSw3tbHjaUcx0Cl/s1600/DSCN0504.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the view of the massif from the town of Likubula, where we started our hike. Elevation: 200 m</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDfcRNp1IC__GmTJkuEwISeGVtoS_T-0opey5uNWbt63mzkGIgeNDzqsFfRIla8Q932zfLr0KhACqiIDIwIcLOd8g-96XwJ2ggXQ0i9THFuDrBkbA5voS67Owk2xApT214bFxzT9fZU7Vl/s1600/DSCN0506.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDfcRNp1IC__GmTJkuEwISeGVtoS_T-0opey5uNWbt63mzkGIgeNDzqsFfRIla8Q932zfLr0KhACqiIDIwIcLOd8g-96XwJ2ggXQ0i9THFuDrBkbA5voS67Owk2xApT214bFxzT9fZU7Vl/s1600/DSCN0506.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My hiking companions, Laura and James. They are super excited to get started!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6eUkHsSfYhk3z7MwxFEZnxTbIbOw34ZB6pvKJ97Tahmb69fMuUPCszMlwRJzcnXESRTFaRbMQ0ZF3cfHtzearmqGOc8WnLaPU70q3ABwTKe8AgCN4tdqdP55ndiyHCs8whFqQZ4xLa44V/s1600/DSCN0511.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6eUkHsSfYhk3z7MwxFEZnxTbIbOw34ZB6pvKJ97Tahmb69fMuUPCszMlwRJzcnXESRTFaRbMQ0ZF3cfHtzearmqGOc8WnLaPU70q3ABwTKe8AgCN4tdqdP55ndiyHCs8whFqQZ4xLa44V/s1600/DSCN0511.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first day was the hardest--we gained 6,000 feet of elevation in 5 hours. The views, however, were gorgeous.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMuc9Xd97AYM5Kcu5L4f3oLCa3H7M9cR-aKUvzdzseEgMQ10DlaFRgNTrPKB9oy-k_0PWyXvlan9S2x_6TqLqFeSQP_nNqqSuJ8Wu09kcAPMNwZTmmDjmhGhEf7IzeegzN7bM2Rmr_Ik7V/s1600/DSCN0515.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMuc9Xd97AYM5Kcu5L4f3oLCa3H7M9cR-aKUvzdzseEgMQ10DlaFRgNTrPKB9oy-k_0PWyXvlan9S2x_6TqLqFeSQP_nNqqSuJ8Wu09kcAPMNwZTmmDjmhGhEf7IzeegzN7bM2Rmr_Ik7V/s1600/DSCN0515.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitmnHP8typx5jiFKPhF6EuNtOKF4lRkxzJhQPwOnS9o-JgYCAaNbNgz_SqnVyNKr8CJfaU3fSqtbuN18vGcy0VGIZrLq9jOPAamctrKnLkFlTBP4EYwDK_RHL4RGjMHm1oe5S_vzRpe-V6/s1600/DSCN0516.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitmnHP8typx5jiFKPhF6EuNtOKF4lRkxzJhQPwOnS9o-JgYCAaNbNgz_SqnVyNKr8CJfaU3fSqtbuN18vGcy0VGIZrLq9jOPAamctrKnLkFlTBP4EYwDK_RHL4RGjMHm1oe5S_vzRpe-V6/s1600/DSCN0516.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our guide Robert and me on the Chambe Plateau.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRUQyO_SSb33z3e4twDKq7LIZyVJwEhXkGrQnYPW81VygQFIjjB-dmmstds0nWu8QeCb5DbkxMQA8-9SGfX_pX9azvhn6kpm9-vWzwqcod8mtSpW5KtSmHNqxJhRhSOCrpsS2b0hd4aWJr/s1600/DSCN0521.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRUQyO_SSb33z3e4twDKq7LIZyVJwEhXkGrQnYPW81VygQFIjjB-dmmstds0nWu8QeCb5DbkxMQA8-9SGfX_pX9azvhn6kpm9-vWzwqcod8mtSpW5KtSmHNqxJhRhSOCrpsS2b0hd4aWJr/s1600/DSCN0521.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Approaching our first hut, Chambe Hut.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJVNSAxQ4HiytYJ7j-KepFfITnIVIq9RIitclUVX-iKxm7N4HTYLuw8M0DZT88fdAYNMCJFjpmMxs4iqeakwqbGE53jtqNypIVN8IXkreysFgThBevy9gh9xb5Z7IbIfmQZ9sE6Q_4IQR0/s1600/DSCN0523.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJVNSAxQ4HiytYJ7j-KepFfITnIVIq9RIitclUVX-iKxm7N4HTYLuw8M0DZT88fdAYNMCJFjpmMxs4iqeakwqbGE53jtqNypIVN8IXkreysFgThBevy9gh9xb5Z7IbIfmQZ9sE6Q_4IQR0/s1600/DSCN0523.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The hut had a great view of Chambe Peak, the hardest peak to ascend in the whole massif.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9-gD3JIXwnfM7jtzfdi0vYiDorQyAu9ziYKf0zFgBQPhHZG6XwC6iZg6c9C46LgAmYRyk4aZ4p-Ax_6wWny9fVOgsJ1pq0ee397jVictAni0cHambuMiKSOtyUmHp3igCrr8Fu2DkHEAd/s1600/DSCN0525.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9-gD3JIXwnfM7jtzfdi0vYiDorQyAu9ziYKf0zFgBQPhHZG6XwC6iZg6c9C46LgAmYRyk4aZ4p-Ax_6wWny9fVOgsJ1pq0ee397jVictAni0cHambuMiKSOtyUmHp3igCrr8Fu2DkHEAd/s1600/DSCN0525.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The huts were complete with bath houses...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7aJ6ZmDZzoBSWA4BhYsh2bmDkvy4MSB4AJWVrLlr0-Eyti6ox0rvFZFdq4LQp4d5fXfrJWLXL8AOoXLgYVvcHhRtPetWk-jVcebftnY9WzkczqEP9XohS8Vy3YH-s_0Kbx6eSfHKLpY0X/s1600/DSCN0526.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7aJ6ZmDZzoBSWA4BhYsh2bmDkvy4MSB4AJWVrLlr0-Eyti6ox0rvFZFdq4LQp4d5fXfrJWLXL8AOoXLgYVvcHhRtPetWk-jVcebftnY9WzkczqEP9XohS8Vy3YH-s_0Kbx6eSfHKLpY0X/s1600/DSCN0526.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...with lovely views!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the third day we summitted the highest peak, Sapitwa. At 10,000 ft of elevation it was not easy, but the trail was well marked with many red arrows. In ChiChewa, Sapitwa means "don't go there." </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Very exciting: ice in Malawi!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I hadn't seen ice on the ground for over a year...very exciting!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We made it to the summit!</td></tr>
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<br />Sienna Laughtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08264272138884813622noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7863218770757578141.post-77006368407968314822014-08-06T10:57:00.000-07:002014-08-06T10:59:51.305-07:00Life in Zobue: Carvao (Charcoal)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Most people in Zobue cook every day using a charcoal stove. Even people with electricity in their homes prefer to use charcoal over an electric stove. I haven't quite been able to figure out why, except that charcoal is more reliable--it doesn't stop working when the electricity goes out. People are also probably more used to cooking on a charcoal stove because that is how they grew up. When Silvia and Albertina have been over to cook with us, they seem scared to use our electric stove because it is unfamiliar. For me, charcoal is a pain to cook on because it takes a long time to light, but for most people here it is easier than an electric stove. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Most people cook on small charcoal stoves like this one.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWkzcWlav3fHOWNgPJZ0b8pFQMiV7zpEnVbH1efB7zFYACA41Yybdycm9VEJ3_GYAggmYvs5RDhpPQys5uax2Ac2YElaA_y9nh4lD4zw9NM-OmxaPF4L8lXy3Rhd-gGda5X2vl-FR-Fdqw/s1600/DSCN0436.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWkzcWlav3fHOWNgPJZ0b8pFQMiV7zpEnVbH1efB7zFYACA41Yybdycm9VEJ3_GYAggmYvs5RDhpPQys5uax2Ac2YElaA_y9nh4lD4zw9NM-OmxaPF4L8lXy3Rhd-gGda5X2vl-FR-Fdqw/s1600/DSCN0436.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The charcoal is sold in large bags like this for about 100 mets (3 dollars). A family cooking on charcoal would probably use 4-5 large bags per month.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQoUjXDEB8t-lHdn2GAp32eVkSeMyj0PWlaM8IuL3mFXeKJlvtK9NXeO8HgZsAfju715qODWCtVVuhzdZsReAMFdQFPywodPtmz4E7hFq8pTESaGC_jYlgRL3FMP1Pr1mUPV4o1mmJnmdW/s1600/DSCN0485.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQoUjXDEB8t-lHdn2GAp32eVkSeMyj0PWlaM8IuL3mFXeKJlvtK9NXeO8HgZsAfju715qODWCtVVuhzdZsReAMFdQFPywodPtmz4E7hFq8pTESaGC_jYlgRL3FMP1Pr1mUPV4o1mmJnmdW/s1600/DSCN0485.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here are more large charcoal bags for sale.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charcoal is also sold in smaller bags like this for 25 mets (about 1 dollar)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7uhuCGnFcCkZEbX5uxwrw41wIqhnt5yPz5jVdmXngq3imDhWhOlajakCcCbfo-5wAJ8FN9m6dzPUcb-KrAOjrPIqWKf_IinGUxUgOwvYWEMo9jHzKhoysWdiOUMklLpN8rSS5Iv06G5-h/s1600/DSCN0441.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7uhuCGnFcCkZEbX5uxwrw41wIqhnt5yPz5jVdmXngq3imDhWhOlajakCcCbfo-5wAJ8FN9m6dzPUcb-KrAOjrPIqWKf_IinGUxUgOwvYWEMo9jHzKhoysWdiOUMklLpN8rSS5Iv06G5-h/s1600/DSCN0441.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This small store is selling a few small bags of charcoal</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Celena waits for the water to heat up on her charcoal stove so she can take a bath</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipf9iHj3mD4tmh9KnKChioT9yXWbd2ZVT4urd-246md1KZ95DRweiCmAfQ89Fdz0G1ou8uihHfQ2sLA1Uuo79zzeyKtzxUbZ6SjfTYlDhu8bflNG_EWEFm9EzO9OyU2gM_ZWc8WUjXu78z/s1600/DSCN0451.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipf9iHj3mD4tmh9KnKChioT9yXWbd2ZVT4urd-246md1KZ95DRweiCmAfQ89Fdz0G1ou8uihHfQ2sLA1Uuo79zzeyKtzxUbZ6SjfTYlDhu8bflNG_EWEFm9EzO9OyU2gM_ZWc8WUjXu78z/s1600/DSCN0451.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Servina cooks xima on her charcoal stove</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here are some small charcoal stoves for sale at the market.</td></tr>
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Mozambique uses a lot of trees every year to produce charcoal, make bricks, and build houses and I'm afraid of what is going to happen when there are no more trees. Currently the rate of tree use is much greater than the number of new trees being planted. How will people cook? Build houses? Stay cool during the hot season when there are no shady trees to sit under? It is hard for people who are barely making a living to care about their environmental impact, but it is something Mozambique is definitely going to have to deal with in the near future. The population is growing and Mozambique is in need of more sustainable practices to support the growth.</div>
<br />Sienna Laughtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08264272138884813622noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7863218770757578141.post-37675870136604093572014-07-24T23:50:00.000-07:002014-07-24T23:50:45.310-07:00Rata de Mato<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
So far in Mozambique I've tried a lot of new foods: hippo, goat, and corn beer to name a few. One thing I haven't been able to try yet is the rata de mato, the bush rat. People sell these little rats at a good price on the side of the road or at any market. They are roasted--skin, hair, bones, and all--and sold for about 50 cents per half dozen. At first I thought people just ate them like that, as a kind of street snack, but I haven't actually ever seen anyone eating them. The other day I was on a chapa and the people on either side of me bought multiple sets of rats so I was able to get some photos and ask questions. Apparently they don't eat them straight off the stick, but usually cook them in a stew with tomato and onion. It seems really gross to me, but these rats are a good source of protein in a place where many people are severely protein deficient. So I won't judge people here for thinking they are delicious. I just probably won't be trying them any time soon. </div>
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Sienna Laughtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08264272138884813622noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7863218770757578141.post-9631146478350755562014-07-17T11:43:00.001-07:002014-07-17T11:43:18.149-07:00Brick making part II<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
After the last post about brick making in Zobue a friend of mine asked if I had a picture of the mold used to make the bricks. At the time I didn't have a photo, but have been on the search ever since. A few days ago I asked a young man I had seen making bricks if he had the mold and he said he had borrowed the mold from someone else and had already returned it. Yesterday, I was running along the road and saw a man carrying a brick mold, but I didn't have my camera. This morning I went for a walk around Zobue with my camera and had the good fortune of walking by a man making bricks with his very own brick mold. So, here are some photos of the brick mold plus some more photos of the brick making process.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS7G_BLtVIkqjUxtBrkCuqrPgM33xynFsC9-h-ctEFRJNuO6RYHnXqozpk5c-bntXYK2SKV83ZULsAgQYp9ShD6XRACnFT5pq13vFk_NjbaE7D1dU9UlJFk2_t4NER2Grt8fPYokIsIS1U/s1600/DSCN0459.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS7G_BLtVIkqjUxtBrkCuqrPgM33xynFsC9-h-ctEFRJNuO6RYHnXqozpk5c-bntXYK2SKV83ZULsAgQYp9ShD6XRACnFT5pq13vFk_NjbaE7D1dU9UlJFk2_t4NER2Grt8fPYokIsIS1U/s1600/DSCN0459.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">These men are piling up the dried bricks, leaving room at the bottom to build fires underneath and bake the bricks.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjroeTnljsUW3HtRsrQy1kEGmrd_8XcS7gThqZAxEI_Ifc-U7KztLePKhPW4j6Fy-aBa1o84qbFRwEdvqfhJnAcJXI5mGEAZqCdQiSn3wth5KZbg10PLYQDgldVEvcMe-DL0MT-GzeAuIrU/s1600/DSCN0474.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjroeTnljsUW3HtRsrQy1kEGmrd_8XcS7gThqZAxEI_Ifc-U7KztLePKhPW4j6Fy-aBa1o84qbFRwEdvqfhJnAcJXI5mGEAZqCdQiSn3wth5KZbg10PLYQDgldVEvcMe-DL0MT-GzeAuIrU/s1600/DSCN0474.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I asked this man if I could take a picture of him and he struck this pose. The mold is supporting his right hand.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8_9eYge2oxMg9AWeBIW1vEFEHbNtt0lJlO8PPG2vbGPkjXcGmLvz4t4MvrGqcmuuPRzeU3j05LauAqS2SWOMRw9k2AgzJcCmMml-g8fvkMMjojo3wED6ke2Ib-kjwqoBRQj4p4sU8dD8P/s1600/DSCN0475.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8_9eYge2oxMg9AWeBIW1vEFEHbNtt0lJlO8PPG2vbGPkjXcGmLvz4t4MvrGqcmuuPRzeU3j05LauAqS2SWOMRw9k2AgzJcCmMml-g8fvkMMjojo3wED6ke2Ib-kjwqoBRQj4p4sU8dD8P/s1600/DSCN0475.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Here is the brick mold. You can make two bricks at a time. Simply pack in the mud, carry the mold to where you want your bricks, and flip over the mold, letting the new bricks fall out onto the ground to dry.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">
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<span style="font-size: small;">In the previous post I showed a picture of a house being built. Here is it a few days later. They are making progress!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi21CZN36ujeAJqWu0EmnnBoRUt4_OeShYlm_srE8HEsp0TN-DcveHN5Ah_oHRL9-iwZnZHYvyxYpB7P3q1YczrjZS1c5i3hhlZgX0FYyH2MMSgQak6TxKt9bjSMG-anECIUD3G4MrV0hOR/s1600/Photo0110.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi21CZN36ujeAJqWu0EmnnBoRUt4_OeShYlm_srE8HEsp0TN-DcveHN5Ah_oHRL9-iwZnZHYvyxYpB7P3q1YczrjZS1c5i3hhlZgX0FYyH2MMSgQak6TxKt9bjSMG-anECIUD3G4MrV0hOR/s1600/Photo0110.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I thought it was interesting what they use to make sure the walls are square. Just some string and a stick. Seems to work pretty well.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge4ZIufVoA4Cp9_o-fBHqnG7YaEfNRWDagn3Qmu_uyj1vZrRJ6LHkMKAZ1kX9_-AQML6KkUiBr9_DYZ6rc5pE_GWAgoh4jKl4cX5_ecjk2kVI1z4gJFpDaswkjbYkaxMsbUuVzzmIM5Wbf/s1600/Photo0111.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge4ZIufVoA4Cp9_o-fBHqnG7YaEfNRWDagn3Qmu_uyj1vZrRJ6LHkMKAZ1kX9_-AQML6KkUiBr9_DYZ6rc5pE_GWAgoh4jKl4cX5_ecjk2kVI1z4gJFpDaswkjbYkaxMsbUuVzzmIM5Wbf/s1600/Photo0111.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a><br /><br /><br /></td></tr>
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<br />Sienna Laughtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08264272138884813622noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7863218770757578141.post-65697890622776200682014-07-15T11:56:00.000-07:002014-07-15T11:56:02.955-07:00Life in Zobue: WaterContinuing my Life in Zobue series, here I'm going to talk about water. Most homes here in Zobue do not have running water so every day women and girls carry water from the nearest pump back to their homes for bathing, cooking, washing dishes, drinking, and cleaning. To carry this water, they balance the full jugs on their heads. Emma and I employ a local woman named Rute and her mother Fatima to bring us water every other day. The jugs are quite heavy and our nearest pump is pretty far away so these women are very strong. One day I carried the smallest of our jugs home from the pump on my head and it was hard! I made it home, but barely, and I spilled about a quarter of it on myself on the way. <div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPbGZpL_FxqkGo0IioKwud_Q49VY2qH6jy3wCbZUFkRus4b0ioBInwFqyiO2gz0BWtKkTHeER7EYefzAkA9gcLYEoBJ1DD_bCYPbbWgtuNuDWnR-F5z7bpHcOIC228d4kvs_ipnWz1lcVL/s1600/DSCN0415.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPbGZpL_FxqkGo0IioKwud_Q49VY2qH6jy3wCbZUFkRus4b0ioBInwFqyiO2gz0BWtKkTHeER7EYefzAkA9gcLYEoBJ1DD_bCYPbbWgtuNuDWnR-F5z7bpHcOIC228d4kvs_ipnWz1lcVL/s1600/DSCN0415.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">Here is our water storage area. Rute even carries the big blue one in the middle/back on her head. It holds about 50 liters...which weighs over 100 pounds.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqvEGAKzfW50qYcJWvirGZqliOIh4M91Ye-Ea_uSTNuUkiLQ70zpWv0_u8VgZPGa9kwWo_AtVf7uZuHtxfWqv37xSjOZ8VCKGnWydp77Dthuj7qL2GKEdpzo09VKj79Y1AuRpQvwsAvzgS/s1600/DSCN0365.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqvEGAKzfW50qYcJWvirGZqliOIh4M91Ye-Ea_uSTNuUkiLQ70zpWv0_u8VgZPGa9kwWo_AtVf7uZuHtxfWqv37xSjOZ8VCKGnWydp77Dthuj7qL2GKEdpzo09VKj79Y1AuRpQvwsAvzgS/s1600/DSCN0365.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Doing dishes with baby Wilder.</td></tr>
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But where does the water come from? Is it clean? Safe to drink?</div>
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In Zobue, some people have hand-dug wells in their yards that provide them with water. They have a bucket on a string that they lower down, fill with water, and bring back up again. This source of water is convenient, but since the top is open it can easily get contaminated.</div>
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Other people in Zobue (including me) pay 20 meticais (about 60 cents) per month to use one of various closed water pumps to get their water. Since the top is closed there is no way for trash and debris to get in and contaminate the water, so it is very clean. I still filter and bleach my water before drinking it though, just to be safe.</div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijGYTqrdhdBB8zjGOup4BmJRTh6zVM1hppnNGubJB6gxfb6ZhGOrEXmeewdH7fhcmvoVk9aTsiP8znXXB9uHVDZmvx7fjlB1F8k_H32jkA5A5Imu4MfbFNR6zmrLcidWvkcMkeCvjtbJs5/s1600/DSCN0380.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijGYTqrdhdBB8zjGOup4BmJRTh6zVM1hppnNGubJB6gxfb6ZhGOrEXmeewdH7fhcmvoVk9aTsiP8znXXB9uHVDZmvx7fjlB1F8k_H32jkA5A5Imu4MfbFNR6zmrLcidWvkcMkeCvjtbJs5/s1600/DSCN0380.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">This is an example of one of the closed water pumps that exist around town.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjGRHkO-omUxyUHIerzEf7YDeAZx6MSi8HDoxE5McKO5Z2PTimoBqkW7dVknn0jGfp0kK2KnxQpM17AWuF7gO_T9GBFPB0Sy44BY7dtsfMcTZpDCVbgSuBe_UrW_GnmWxMzqPkrahuDIKm/s1600/croped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjGRHkO-omUxyUHIerzEf7YDeAZx6MSi8HDoxE5McKO5Z2PTimoBqkW7dVknn0jGfp0kK2KnxQpM17AWuF7gO_T9GBFPB0Sy44BY7dtsfMcTZpDCVbgSuBe_UrW_GnmWxMzqPkrahuDIKm/s1600/croped.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">This girl is stabilizing the water jug with her hands, but most women are able to balance these heavy jugs on their heads without requiring stabilization. They sometimes even carry two more smaller jugs of water in each hand while still having the big one on the head. Amazing.<br /></td></tr>
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Some people get their water from the small streams that run through town. This water is not very clean, but serves well for clothes washing and bathing. Many women carry their laundry down to the stream and wash it there to save the trouble of carting lots of water just for washing clothes. They then bring the clothes home and hang them up to dry in their yards.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjICVxFi6kKA7mFEIk80fw4Z6Hsi83hlX8huCX6QHT0QylGfjmT6kW9B8skS8jx_IR_WfGfeOPF8U4aFJzh9NpTbtv0tfUHOMiFM2WRlP41PXfz5GStEdLVWGspMB_0pESKr9Wkw6QyolKY/s1600/DSCN0129.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjICVxFi6kKA7mFEIk80fw4Z6Hsi83hlX8huCX6QHT0QylGfjmT6kW9B8skS8jx_IR_WfGfeOPF8U4aFJzh9NpTbtv0tfUHOMiFM2WRlP41PXfz5GStEdLVWGspMB_0pESKr9Wkw6QyolKY/s1600/DSCN0129.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is Silvia carrying her laundry to the stream to wash.</td></tr>
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So far we haven't had any water shortages, but I haven't yet been here in the height of the dry season so I don't really know how scarce the water gets. I've heard that in the dry season some of the hand-dug wells go dry so there is more demand for the closed pumps since they are deeper. This means that the lines for water start getting long and people have to line up at 4 am to get a good spot in the line. Hopefully this year the ground will have enough water to last through the dry season and there won't be any problems, but you never know.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Sienna Laughtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08264272138884813622noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7863218770757578141.post-84139757760918808232014-07-10T09:17:00.002-07:002014-07-10T09:17:54.880-07:00Hiking<div class="MsoNormal">
Probably anyone who knows me knows that I love hiking. I love mountains and I love being outside in
nature. So, not surprisingly, when a group
of the 5<sup>th</sup> grade girls I’ve been doing reading classes with asked me
to take them hiking up the mountain it was like Christmas had come early. It took a few weeks for us to get organized,
but two weeks ago I was able to take a group of 6 girls up the little mountain
just outside of Zobue.<o:p></o:p></div>
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These girls, ages 9-14, have grown up their whole lives in
Zobue, but have never explored the hills and mountains just outside their
town. I was so happy to be able to show
them around. On Sunday afternoon I
packed my backpack with water and snacks, put on my hiking boots, and set out
towards the primary school where I said I would meet the girls. The first girl I met was Maria. She was standing outside her house.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Esta pronta para subir a montanha?” I asked. Are you ready to climb the mountain?<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Sim, mas quero comer,” Maria responded. Yes, but I want to eat first.<o:p></o:p></div>
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My heart sank. Who
knew if the food was prepared already or if we were going to be waiting two hours
for it to be done. Figuring I had plenty
of time, I entered her house to wait for her to eat. Luckily, the food was already prepared. I sat with her baby sister on my lap while
Maria ate about 2 bites of xima and one bite of chicken before saying, “Ja,
vamos.” Ok, I’m ready. Let’s go.<o:p></o:p></div>
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We set out, now a group of two. A little further down the path two more girls
joined us. These were actually 8<sup>th</sup>
graders from my REDES group who saw us walking and wanted to join. Four strong, we continued across the bridge
and up towards primary school to collect Eunicia from her house.<o:p></o:p></div>
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When we arrived at Eunicia’s house there were a few of my
students on the porch (Eunicia’s mother is a teacher at the secondary school
and my REDES counterpart).<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Eunicia esta?” I asked. Is Eunicia at home?<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Dio? Nao,” one of the students responded. (Many people here
have house names they use at home and school names they use for school and
official documents. Dio is apparently Eunicia’s house name).<o:p></o:p></div>
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I was disappointed because I knew Eunicia had really wanted
to come hiking.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">“DIO!!!”</span> Maria yelled. (When you don’t know where someone
is, just yell for them…they are probably nearby).<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Sim?” Eunicia’s voice called from a few houses away. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">“Vamos subir a montanha!”</span> Maria yelled.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Soon after, Eunicia appeared with two more girls and a boy. <o:p></o:p></div>
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“Voces querem subir a montanha tambem?” I asked. Do you want
to come too?<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Sim!” the girls said. The boy looked like he wanted to come
too, but then responded, “Nao, fome.” </div>
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No, I want to go home and eat something.<o:p></o:p></div>
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After asking all the girls their ages and assessing their
sizes I decided they could all make it up the mountain. We
were now a group of seven. We set out. The girls jabbered in local language while I
tried to pick out words I recognized. I
looked down at the ground. Other than my
hiking boots, all I saw were feet in flip flops. One girl didn’t even have any shoes. Well, I thought, they are used to walking
around barefoot. They will probably do
fine. And they did. The hike was a short one—just up a small
mountain outside of town—but requires some scrambling up rocks and walking
through some uncleared trail. The girls,
flip flops in hand, climbed right up the granite hillside, through the bushes,
and over the boulders to reach the summit.
<o:p></o:p></div>
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At the top, we ate trail mix (they were very excited about
the chocolate pieces and tried to save them by tying them to their shirts
because they didn’t have pockets), drank water, took pictures, played games,
and danced. After about an hour, we
headed back down, the girls singing and chatting with excitement. They immediately asked me when we could go
again. We’re going again tomorrow.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Sienna Laughtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08264272138884813622noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7863218770757578141.post-88325214485071422542014-07-09T10:28:00.000-07:002014-07-09T10:28:12.199-07:00Life in Zobue: Making Bricks<div class="MsoNormal">
For the past couple of weeks a main project in Zobue has
been brick making. Apparently it’s brick
making season. The process is quite
extensive. Luckily, all the materials
are readily available. Here’s a quick
how to for brick making. Most of the
information in this tutorial was gathered by simple observation, so I apologize
if there are some factual errors, but I think I have it about right.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">1.</span><span style="font-size: 7pt; text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Find a spot of bare dirt that can serve as a
good source for bricks.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Most of the time
this can be found directly in your backyard.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span></div>
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<br /><o:p></o:p></div>
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2. <span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Start to dig up the dirt to loosen the
soil. Dig about 4 feet deep.<o:p></o:p></div>
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3.<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Add water to make a mud pit. <o:p></o:p></div>
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4.<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Mix the mud until it is a good consistency. <o:p></o:p></div>
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5.<span style="font-size: 7pt;"> </span><!--[endif]-->Use a brick mold to form the bricks.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">6. Make a lot of bricks.</span></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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7<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">.</span><span style="font-size: 7pt; text-indent: -0.25in;">
</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Lay the wet bricks out in the sun to dry.</span><br />
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8.<span style="font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]-->Once dry, make a huge pile of bricks with slots
in the bottom to build fires and bake the bricks.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Sometimes, the baking never actually happens and the bricks slowly return back to the earth...</div>
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9.<span style="font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]-->Unload the bricks and carry them to your desired
building location.<o:p></o:p></div>
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10.<span style="font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]-->You’re ready to build your house! You don't even need cement, you can just use more mud as these men are doing.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />Sienna Laughtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08264272138884813622noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7863218770757578141.post-78037745009444661402014-07-08T06:02:00.000-07:002014-07-08T06:02:16.005-07:00Life in Zobue: Corn<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I'm starting a series called Life in Zobue to share stories about everyday life in my village. First, I'd like to talk about corn.</div>
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Corn is a huge part of life in Zobue. A lot of people grow corn as a main source of food. When I arrived in December all the fields were prepared and ready to plant. After the first rain, planting began and by March the corn in the fields was 10 feet high. Paths that previously had an open view of the surrounding mountains were now obstructed on either side by a wall of corn. Around this time some of the corn began to mature and people started eating the young corn on the cob. This corn on the cob is nothing like our sweet corn in the states. Here, it is tough, chewy, and dry. I tried to eat it, but every time I was disappointed by the lack of flavor. It was still pretty good when it was fresh with some butter and parmesan cheese. The rest of the corn was left on the stalks to dry before harvest.<br />
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In April, the harvest began and suddenly the fields were clear again. Piles of corn appeared in people's yards for drying. After harvest, the next step is to remove all the corn kernels from the cobs and store them in bags. Once this is done, a family will take a bucket of corn to the mill to grind into corn flour as needed throughout the year. For many people in Zobue, xima, a kind of corn flour gruel is a daily staple. If the harvest is good enough, the corn reserves will last until the harvest next year. If not, there may be a time of hunger before the next corn can be harvested. Luckily, Zobue is a productive area with good soil and adequate rainfall so most people here have enough to eat year-round. Unfortunately, this is not true of many parts of Mozambique where sandy soil and a long dry season prevent good corn yields. In drier areas, millet is also grown as it requires less water than corn.<br />
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Besides an important source of food, the corn grown in Zobue also provides the villagers with a local source of alcohol. Bombe is a popular drink in Zobue and is made from fermented corn mash. To make bombe you simply coarsely grind the corn, boil it in water for a few hours, then wait 3-4 days for the concoction to ferment. Then you rent speakers and play loud music to tell everyone in town you are selling bombe and there is a big party at your house! I've tried it--not my favorite. It is thick and chunky and tastes like sour corn. I definitely couldn't drink a whole cup of it without feeling nauseous. But, I supposed it is an acquired taste.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A corn field after the harvest</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Corncobs</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The corn kernels waiting to be ground into flour.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">Washing corn kernels</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">Grinding corn into corn flour at the mill</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOzY5Rc6ADCAyoKh7mwM2dETBTuwT7VHmTFkxUlTUQE3TAG25H8PFwrTyUbfnPxgvH_1OJEiRfXvOQc-apv7kAkT_qHHVyL5GWlCXX_7q7ZoNO7xW9kGVrUnjGQ-2qlvcreZYc1Pczu1jj/s1600/DSCN0424.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOzY5Rc6ADCAyoKh7mwM2dETBTuwT7VHmTFkxUlTUQE3TAG25H8PFwrTyUbfnPxgvH_1OJEiRfXvOQc-apv7kAkT_qHHVyL5GWlCXX_7q7ZoNO7xW9kGVrUnjGQ-2qlvcreZYc1Pczu1jj/s1600/DSCN0424.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two women leaving the mill with their baskets of corn flour</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguVPfMVZ2HmjO7FNqVrgvDluD1peR8bjrsPE4-vXx9g_QdWKZI2suFrWPA967J8mKNEZ3A-pw6fdIK7GdAK63mYJBycovRm55xv6OESLgPw7xLDoJWtshnZIVG3VY6h0a2WqjwdfQDTuZm/s1600/DSCN0448.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguVPfMVZ2HmjO7FNqVrgvDluD1peR8bjrsPE4-vXx9g_QdWKZI2suFrWPA967J8mKNEZ3A-pw6fdIK7GdAK63mYJBycovRm55xv6OESLgPw7xLDoJWtshnZIVG3VY6h0a2WqjwdfQDTuZm/s1600/DSCN0448.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After going to the mill, the corn flour dries in the sun.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvE7RrDy-9x7xKxUhJI3GbU10DrJo7-2qiSMiItx1q12yi7YDmeUrAuEtLzcjJG98JsuBrs2kW71jgxyajqiH-8EmhLmzItiHk9VunN6OcqmnSpARecvyouV3M-jADHmOvZsV939-daAOA/s1600/DSCN0383.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvE7RrDy-9x7xKxUhJI3GbU10DrJo7-2qiSMiItx1q12yi7YDmeUrAuEtLzcjJG98JsuBrs2kW71jgxyajqiH-8EmhLmzItiHk9VunN6OcqmnSpARecvyouV3M-jADHmOvZsV939-daAOA/s1600/DSCN0383.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Before using the corn flour, it is sifted using the flat baskets shown in this photo.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgatKHGzYvax1F3vKOjh4uh1xqkrMU3RYL5Tp_f9a-MS8JsxLjuW_BBRRV9fXjSjp8URVMB4CuMizfqWLYhZ0LgFm_0CqTHgLpjL8L4UscDB1q0u1PpJxKJADxBzTTwNw1y7wg_N7cODhN/s1600/DSCN0374.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgatKHGzYvax1F3vKOjh4uh1xqkrMU3RYL5Tp_f9a-MS8JsxLjuW_BBRRV9fXjSjp8URVMB4CuMizfqWLYhZ0LgFm_0CqTHgLpjL8L4UscDB1q0u1PpJxKJADxBzTTwNw1y7wg_N7cODhN/s1600/DSCN0374.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bombe, the corn beer, being boiled over an open fire.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_PkgPs4-MMqlEniFUyxncdDo0lJV1894AeOpbU8IvYmnTq8ptrnuXds_LBZfsFdg6_k-Cv3U81SjJr1e1OkIgjiCmgY0bJ7_cMeJcVKA7BD5Vp_0IbvTSXuRoGcG_GY_CQlbPP9gwQHHj/s1600/DSCN0375.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_PkgPs4-MMqlEniFUyxncdDo0lJV1894AeOpbU8IvYmnTq8ptrnuXds_LBZfsFdg6_k-Cv3U81SjJr1e1OkIgjiCmgY0bJ7_cMeJcVKA7BD5Vp_0IbvTSXuRoGcG_GY_CQlbPP9gwQHHj/s1600/DSCN0375.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two women waiting for their bombe to finish boiling.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />Sienna Laughtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08264272138884813622noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7863218770757578141.post-16515300829159586882014-06-30T00:59:00.000-07:002014-06-30T00:59:11.079-07:00Time<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
In the United States daily schedules revolve around the
hours in the day, regardless of the time of year. In the winter when the days
are shorter, people simply go about life in the dark. Even though the human body just wants to curl
up in a cozy bed and hibernate, the iron schedule does not yield to the changes
of the seasons. Even when it gets dark
at 4 pm, there are still errands to run, meetings to go to, events to attend,
and work to do. This schedule is
completely contrary to our biological clocks.
Before electricity was common, people would simply stay up later during
the summer when the days were longer and sleep more in the winter when the days
were shorter. Last winter I remember
talking to a friend about this phenomenon and wishing we could still live that
way. Because let’s face it: nothing is harder than getting out of bed at 6 am
in the winter when it is still dark and freezing outside.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In Zobue, the daily schedule adjusts to the length of the
day. The market opens at daylight no
matter if that time is 5 am or 6 am. The
kids on our porch stay until dark regardless of what time it is. In December, they stay until 7:30. Now, they are gone by 5:30 and I stand in my
house wondering how it feels so late when it isn’t yet 6pm. The longer winter evenings mean more time to
rest and prepare for the next day.
Granted, since we are closer to the equator here the days don’t
fluctuate as much as they do in northern latitudes, but it’s nice for these two
years to live more closely with nature’s rhythm than by the unyielding schedule
of the clock. <o:p></o:p></div>
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There are disadvantages to living this way as well. Lately, one of my classes has been missing
out on instructional time because even though the class is supposed to go until
5:35, by 5:15 the sun is setting and all the students are restless to
leave. Usually I try to keep them in
class anyway, but when I can’t even read the numbers on the chalkboard I
concede defeat and let them go home.<o:p></o:p></div>
Sienna Laughtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08264272138884813622noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7863218770757578141.post-46500462056526867532014-06-28T01:49:00.001-07:002014-06-28T01:49:13.402-07:00June 25: Mozambican Independence Day<div class="MsoNormal">
Mozambique actually celebrates two independence days. September 25 commemorates the day in 1964 that
Eduardo Mondlane proclaimed the beginning of the armed struggle for
independence from Portugal. June 25
commemorates the day in 1975 when Mozambique was finally declared an
independent nation. </div>
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This past Wednesday
we celebrated the latter. For many
people in Zobue the day is simply an excuse to drink all day, but the day was
also full other activities. Classes were
canceled and everyone gathered in the town square for cultural dances and
presentations. Groups from the primary
and secondary schools performed, but to me the most interesting was the dance
of the Nyau.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The Nyau (sorry I have no idea how to spell that) are a part
of the Chewa culture, a cultural group that exists in Northern Tete province and
most of Malawi. My impression is that it
is like a secret society of men from the community who meet in secret to
perform certain ceremonies. They dress
up in different costumes and come out during funerals to chase people in the
town. Everyone in the town has to run
and hide from them as a form of respect. I’ve been told that the Nyau will beat
people who don’t run from them. And I
believe it—they carry machetes, whips, and tree branches. For those of you at home who are terrified for
me, I’ve also been told that they won’t beat me up because I’m not part of the
Chewa culture. I believe them, but when
everyone else around me is running, I run too.
Better safe than sorry. <o:p></o:p></div>
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One afternoon there was a funeral near my classroom and
there were many Nyau roaming the street.
I was giving a test that day and it kept getting interrupted by people
running into my classroom to hide from the Nyau. Another time I was walking with Seni and
Romao and we saw a large Nyau yelling and brandishing his machete on the road
ahead of us. We had to hide behind
someone’s house and cut through a few random yards to avoid facing the Nyau.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Every time I’ve seen the Nyau around town I’ve been too
scared to take a picture. I haven’t
known if it is allowed and am afraid I will break some cultural taboo. On Wednesday, they came to do a dance
presentation during the Independence Day festivities and luckily we were told
photos were allowed. I got some great
video of them dancing as well, but unfortunately can’t upload it until I get
some better internet. <o:p></o:p></div>
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To a lot of people, the Nyau sound very scary. When I first heard about them I
thought, wow, I hope I don’t get placed in a region of Mozambique where they
are. But here I am in Zobue where the Nyau are fairly common. When we first came to
Zobue, I was afraid of them because I didn’t understand them and wasn’t
familiar with them. Now, I am more used
to them and see them more as an interesting part of the local culture than as
something scary. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Sienna Laughtonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08264272138884813622noreply@blogger.com0