Life just comes in buckets.

So like with many of the things here in life in Mozambique that are simplified down to the bare minimum, so is my way of usage with water and bathroom dealings.  And how my life around this is currently set up, my life is technically run out of 3 buckets in my room.  I have my bath bucket and my drinking water bucket, that are used for obvious reasons.  And my last bucket is called my xi-xi(she-she) bucket, which unless you speak Portuguese is less harder to see the obvious meaning.  So what it is in a simple explanation, it is my midnight pisser.... Yep I get a simplified master bathroom in my room in my house in Africa.  And as grossed out as you might initially be reacting, which I did too at first, but after a few uses out of serious necessity of waking up at 3 am because the dang roosters already started chirping.  I actually became pretty happy I had such a simple luxury. 

Alright, so this is not where this post ends but rather starts with this background info.  I tell you this in advance so that you will get the full appreciation and unfortunate-ness and or gravity for the rest of the story to which it would rather not be a story worth posting at all.  One other thing, in my short time here I've quickly learned from my own and hearing other peoples' experiences that to stay sain it seems you really gotta learn to laugh at yourself. So I am currently chuckling.

When I am taking my bucket baths, outside in my open air "shower" area that is also conveniently made from the same structure that also holds our "toilet" area, I've been trying to let my bucket dry out as much as possible while I'm drying off to drip less water in the house when I go back in.  So, to help dry it out lately I was hanging my bucket upside down on a wooden pole that was attached to the bathroom structure holding my door up on its hinges.  While up there after one of my recent rejuvenating baths, the bucket slipped off and cranked upon hitting the ground putting a good size hole in the bottom.  Well me being the McGuiver I am, I decide to try out at being that resourceful volunteer that can fix anything and role with the punches.  I jimmy-rig a patch with some e-tape and cardboard for rigidity.  Looks good and I test it out the next night.  Holds water ok in the house so I go for it.  Make it to the start of bath and I see it's leaking already.  So screw it I tried and I know we have other buckets in the house.  I take it to my Mae and show here, tell her I'm really sorry.  She shrugs me off and takes the bucket form me. 

Morning after that, I return home from my morning run with a good sweat and am in need of that bucket bath.  So I stroke up to my Mae on the living room couch and ask her which bucket I could use to take my bath?  She says some stuff quite fast which I miss and points in the general direction of  both the kitchen and my room.  In the kitchen above the dish shelves are the buckets for laundry.  Cool, perfect I'll just use one of those for the time being.  I go and start taking down one of the buckets when she comes in the kitchen and tells me to stop.  I do and back away into the doorway of my room to get a view of her and ask here which bucket I should be using, I point at the laundry buckets and say, "isto?"  She shakes her head and points threw me into my room behind me and says, "isso." 

My stomach instantly drops, I know exactly what she is getting at.... I remind you, I live out of 3 buckets; one is full of my drinking water and another just broke, yeah.  So I quickly try to change her mind with my weak/broken Portuguese but nope, she sees no foul in this or reason why I shouldn't use my xi-xi bucket.  And me standing there all sweaty and with no good enough reason, the deed had to be done.  I used it, TIA(this is Africa).  

P.S. As grossed out as you might be now and I kinda don't blame ya.  I have to try and save face.  In my defense every morning after I ever used my xi-xi bucket during the night I rinsed it out with water.  But yeah, the principle is all the same...

The Trio

Bath bucket with hole

Drinking water bucketXi-Xi bucket......

Inny. Outy.

So I am about as stereotypical western as they come on my mind; Caucasian, male, brown hair, blue eyes, and I only speak English (hopefully only for the time being). While I expected to look physically very different from the Mozambiquen locals and they rarely spare any chance they get at letting me know that.  Pretty sure it's almost a universal mothers topic that they teach their children that it's not polite to stare, but what are the kids suppose to do when momma is doing the starring too.  Haha it's not something that bugs me at all.  It has been kinda of nice so far being the center of so much fascination and curiosity to so many people since for my entire life I've only been publicly seen as a basic white guy.  Even though all the girlies say, I'm pretty fly for a white guy.  

The children easily get the biggest kick out of the differences between us volunteers and them.  During my first day with my family.  My brothers must have told all their friends I was coming because we had quite the crowd for at our house while we were lounging and playing catch in the front yard.  When I would take a break from tossing the old pigskin around and sit on our front stoop the little tikes would all gather around me and begin to study me.  Their collectively biggest fascination had to be with hair difference, all body hair difference.  All the little guys must have ran their hands through my hair at least twice and the entire night when I'd turn to look at my little brother or take in the scenery I'd feel a lite touch of a hand stroking my leg or arm.  Just enough to feel the hairs without actually hitting my skin, like they were playing operation and if I was touched I'd buzz.  I let them get their fill of hands on operation because it wasn't like I was gonna be able to answer any of their most pressing questions. 

My most interesting difference though that was brought to my attention by my little brother Costa during my first night here.  So aside from all the awkward pointing, nodding, and hand sherades I had to use to communicate with my family then and the seemingly endless game for catch with the American football we played in the front yard, my little brother was just excited to be all over me all the time.  All night and even during dinner he was on my like a monkey in a tree.  Used to it though from years of chucking kids into the SJ River during SJJF summers.  Costa was at one point later in the night on top of my head and trying to get perched like a bird in a nest.  Sensing something bad about to come , I picked him up to move him to a more manageable height.  His shirt though had gotten tangled up and lifted above his stomach when doing so and it was at this moment I saw he had the largest outy (belly button) I had ever seen.  It was sticking out about an inch and half, I was fascinated and my eyes just happen to do a double take long enough for him to notice my curiosity.  Which must have led him to wonder why I found his button so interesting.  After being put down he immediately went for my shirt.  Lifting it up enough to see my button he was instantaneously AMAZED by my inny.  And I am not exaggerating how much he was blown away.  He quickly tried to jam his finger as deep as he could into my button acting like it was a door to Narnia because he was just giggling and smiling non stop while he examined me.  This new discovery was such a big deal that after pulling his hand out of my gut he immediately turned around and slapped my other brother, Pedro, in the face, who was sleeping.  Shouting at him to look at my lack of belly button. Pedro turned around, looked and was not nearly as impressed as Costa and mumbled what must have been him telling Costa he was crazy.  Though this didn't deter Costa in the least as he went right back to trying to jam more fingers and at one point a cell phone into my stomach.  I couldn't do much besides sit back enjoy the attention and laugh, and keep him from proding me in the gut with something too dangous.  

Was fun being someone's first anatomy experiment and since then we just point to each other's belly buttons and get a laugh out of it.

 Smiling just ain't cool. (Costa is on the far right)

 But they do love the camera.

Moz25 to ground control

Alright, so enough with the deep-minded philosophical jargon about why I'm doing this and the personal reflections about what I experiencing.  Because frankly I'm on this plane half way across the Atlantic to Johannesburg and there is little turning back unless I'm deathly ill or I can't stand Mozambique more than a whole herd of pregant women taking the pleasure to let me know that they are going to "pee."  Plus I'm promising there will be more of that vast psychological mind magic later to come.  

I just want all you beautiful people at home to conceptualizer some of the experiences I'm going through and some of the hilarity that I'm bound to witness.  I will more than certainly be wishing some of you experienced it with me.  But for now this is the closest it can get and will hopefully do.  

Being that I've never flown on an cross oceanic flight before my imagination of what to expect was slighty on and far off as well.  For starters, when I first started picturing this flight I couldn't help but conjure up scenes in my head of Samuel L. Jackson in Snakes on a Plane with that iconic line, "All these Motha F^€%ing Snakes on this MOTHA F^€%ING Plane!"  Also the idea that we were going to Africa and I would problem encounter more deadly snakes in my trip than the sum of my time spent in the reptile room on field trips growing up, it seemed plausible.  And then of course Liam Nessiam, after watching the Taken trilogy more times in the Cougar Hunter with the boys than I care to admit. The epic hostel hostage situation in Non-Stop came to mind as well.  Though I'd vote trump to get a personal recording of him telling me, "Good luck." But I'll do without the plane bomb scenario.  

What I have had to experience though in this air pilgrimage to Africa has been some what entertaining as well.  At least for me. Being someone who enjoys flying, 15 hours in the air ain't nothin to F^€% wit. After being informed of the crippling possibility of acquiring swollen ankles from the lack of movement, struck the fear of having kankles he size of bread loaves in me.  So I've been on the strict regiment of walking around, standing up, or using the head every couple hours.  Safe to say so far my calves have not begun to sag into my achilles.  Second on my air time journey has been the somewhat young and hipster European newly wed couple that is seated right in front of me.  The guy rocking a beard like he's Dan Balzarian and looks like his lankier dopple ganger and the petite little blonde arm piece he has with him.  These two have been exchanging sweet nothings like their in the back of math class, probably my math class, and their PDA (public display of affection) rivals that of the underclass first "love" we would witness at St. Joe High in between passing periods.  And they just went to bathroom, $5 this flight has been christened , what UPP.  Feel bad for Rob, my roommate from staging, who has been enduring their endless love for the duration of this.  But third of all that has appeased me on this flight is the on par food and beverage service we've been getting.  Salmon with mashed potatoes and a lager for lunch, game on. Along with the great accents of the stewardesses. Which I'm sure to hear more of in Moz, has been quite fantastic.  All in all, I'm like a kid who road his first roller coaster, hooked.  And the best part of this international flying is that when we do touchdown, I'm gonna be even more (aye aye) blown away and taken back by the place where we make port.  Can't wait!  And if you can't tell; I'm soaking in all the luxuries into my sanity bank for myself during those expected low points during service. 

Hungry Peace Corps volunteer XXL TV dinner

Not two-hearted or keystone, but it's beer.

P.S. Sorry, Couldn't snake a selfie with the the sweet hearts :/

Yes, it's real.

We're off, out the gate, lit the fuse, in THE FINAL COUNTDOWN to leaving America in the dust and starting our new lives in Africa as Moz25 volunteers of the US Peace Corps.  Even though there are a few hours left until we are really at the no turning back point of take off; as I write this on the bus to NYC's JFK from Philly.  We really in my mind have begun the service.  Staging is in the books and the offer to rethink our decision and feel the gravity of what really is about to be our lives has been told to us and made clear.  That being said it's nice to say I still saw all 63 of us up this morning and willing to through our packed lives on the bus.  We are in it together and that was one of the better things that was clearly made to us at the close of our staging.  No one else, not friends, family, significant others, or phone line therapists will really understand and be able to weigh in on what we are going through.  Even though I'd like to think you all will live pretty vicariously through me in this blog, giving you the sense of sitting on my mud porch with me soaking it all in.  But never have I been in a situation with a group of strangers and very new friends that will have to band together and lean on others to struggle, persevere, and succeed like this.  Which is cool to think that just a group of somewhat young people can instantly become so close just over a mindset and common goal.  

A quote that one of our staging instructors had said that almost brought this whole idea of what I'm doing onto a whole other mindset level was, "while some of you have been waiting almost even three years to serve in the Peace Corps, you need to think about the communities you will be serving and that they also have been waiting a long time for you to arrive and help them," which caught me by surprise because I never occurred to me to of it being that serious for those people too.  Being kind of selfish I really had thought mostly of myself having to give up things and put forth the time and effort. Though she continued with, "and if you are to ET(early terminate) and leave, think of how they might take that.  As if they screwed up, made you unhappy or unwelcome and messed up with a person they had hoped for a good while to be in their community."  So already I feel more responsibility and sense of purpose for this than I had ever previously though about.  Which with as much pressure as it adds on my conscious, it feels a lot better to have than to not.  Giving me some more confidence and determination for this role I'm looking to step into.  

So next time I post in this, it will probably be from the good ole continent of Africa.  Excited for this 17 hour flight, being my only previous preparations of 2 hr max flights to condition me; it should be a blast! 

Deuces!

 Yeah.

The great migration begins, 

By waiting for the terminal to open.

Sundays

I've never really liked Sundays, the start of a new week and the end of the relaxing weekend along with more homework more errands mo problems less money. Whether it was a Sunday in high school and a full day of classes to come loomed over my head or in college and a late night of studying was probably needed from the neglectful weekend filled with road trips, regattas, or a legendary Cougar Hunter banger.  Either way many Sundays all felt pretty similar and predictable of what they would hold. 

This last Sunday was different though, despite waking up and heading to the 11 o'clock mass at St. Bernard's with the rest of the Radenbaugh and visiting Flores clan, the predictability was gone after that. Which was a weird feeling, like the stuff you get before a drop of a roller coaster or the moment before meeting a blind date. My mind was restless as the thought of what's next began to sink in and really I have no clue to what I am truly about to experience this next week. Yeah, I know my itinerary and plans of where I'll be but everything in between is a great big blank and there's nothing I can expect for sure. I'm excited to meet my fellow volunteers, worried I'll do well at this, nervous to take the first step off the ledge of certainty and free fall into a world completely different from anything I've every been apart of.  

But I know these feelings are good, they are what I've chased for most of my life and reveled in these moments when I have experienced similar emotions before.  So I embrace these feelings and pack my bags like I have times before as this Monday is the start of what I believe will be some unreal journey. 

Start'n somewhere

English was never my best subject, not in the least.  And if you have spent anytime around me in the recent decade and heard me try to articulate well formed statements, debates, and/or comebacks; you've probably gotten a decent laugh out of my amazing use of proper grammar and word choice.  And you've probably heard my excuse... I'm a math major.  So, I digress. (NAILED IT)

   You also probably know some of my root stories and how I was brought up 1/2 the time in a household of two teachers, one being an English teach and the other a linguist of the Romance language Spanish. Both subjects of which I can't say I particularly excelled at, not for the lack of effort on the rents end of it (Spanish Wednesdays) ;) When friends and acquaintances I would tell this to their usual and logical next question would always be, "so, do you want to be a teacher yourself?"  To that I would say, "HELL NO."  Not that I never thought highly of my rents or my past teahers noble pursuit of educating the next generation.  I just never pictured myself in that setting OR dealing with parent teacher conferences and administration fiascos. 

  Though as cliche as it is, and I like it when cliches are true, fate works in mysterious ways.  As I am about to attempt to master and take part in all three of my previously renounced subjects and career path.  Keep up a blog (English), teach math to secondary students, and live/work in a Portuguese speaking country.  Fate, you crafty SOB.

   So if you are reading this and have some sort of affiliation to me, or not, I hope that you and I will be able to enjoy my attempt at writing throughout the next chapter of my life.  I extend my sincerest apologizes now for any grammar mistakes or improper word usage you might find along the way, just laugh at it. My goals are to stay as up to date with this project and all of you as humanly possible, god (wifi access) willing.  I'm not very sure what to expect for very much of what lies ahead, only a few ideas and expectations with a whole lot of trail magic in between. 

Take it easy & stay posted.

-Cole