There's Room in the Inn -- But That's All!

In preparation for our trip to Nampula, I knew that we would have difficulty balancing my first-world expectations with Mario and Samuel's African standards. Any hotel that we selected, I thought, is likely to be below my standards and above theirs.

Despite some trepidation over the conditions that I would face, I wanted Samuel and Mario to be responsible for making decisions, including where we would stay.

Our first night was spent in a small community called Ribaue. We stayed in the only accommodation that we could find, which cost us $4 each. My anxiety lightened as I heard the responses to questions that Mario and Samuel asked: "Yes, the hotel has private washrooms," was the reply to their first question.

Of course, my anxiety wasn't in retreat for long. I soon learned that this is not the same as having a washroom in my room: what they really meant to say was yes, our communal washrooms have doors on them. And I soon learned that those doors latched closed by the strength of a bent nail hammered into the door frame.

"Does the hotel have water?" Mario asked next.

"Yes," was the simple response, which (foolishly) was enough for me. The hotel has water! (Wait a second. Is it usual to ask if a hotel has water?) What I didn't yet realize was that "having water" and "having running water" are two completely different standards, neither one of which I would even think to ask. Asking about the availability of potable water -- now that's something I would think to ask in rural Africa, but of this there was little room for doubt. There would be no potable water and there was no running water. The flimsy-doored washrooms down the hall were equipped with a bucket filled with the cold water of an open, hand-dug well out back, qualifying its proprietors to indicate that, yes, they have water.

I was starting to get the picture that luxury this was not when having sheets on the bed was the next feature described to us.

And that the mosquito net hanging above my bed would be a suitable deterrent, unless, of course, the mosquitoes were clever enough to find any of the dozen or so gaping tears in its side. (Mosquitoes in Mozambique, as it turns out, are rather clever.)

Despite the shock of being plunged into rural Africa, I slept mighty well that night after a long day of travel.

* * * * *

The hotel we stayed at for the last two nights of our Nampula adventure was closer to my standards (though the fact that we had a room at all was enough after our night of the cramped, sweltering faux-luxury of our pickup truck). At $20 a night, it was a little steep for Mario and Samuel, but they had difficulty finding other options.

This hotel, they grinned majestically as they told me, had cable television and running water! Heated running water, we later learned, which made my colleagues feel like they had hit upon the big time.

The only thing that it was missing was a reliable supply of electricity. We were in the comfort of heaven. What, after all, do we need lights for when we're trying to sleep?

Culture Shock: Part I

Laura and I woke up on Sunday morning early enough to wake the roosters – 3:20am. Laura’s dad drove us to the airport in time to catch a 6:20am flight to Indianapolis, where we’ll spend our first couple of weeks participating in a cross-cultural training workshop at OMS International’s headquarters.

We had naively assumed that we would have a couple of weeks' reprieve before having to stare down a foreign culture. That was before lunch.

We were in the Dulles airport, Washington DC for lunch on Sunday. We ordered our favourite sandwich at the Subway fast-food restaurant: a 12-inch chipotle southwest steak and cheese. We like to order one big sandwich and split it.

As Subway's “sandwich artists” were busy preparing our subs, I commented to Laura on the dual wonders of globalization and standardization: here we were, standing in a foreign country, ordering a familiar sandwich that was being prepared by hands trained with a common set of standard operating procedures. Our sandwich would taste exactly like it would were we in Canada. Or so I thought.

“What kind of sauce would you like, Ma'am?” the Artist asked, as he was trained.

“Chipotle sauce,” Laura replied, and – wait for it – “and some sub sauce, too.”

Sub sauce. The staple sauce that is put on virtually all subs in Canada. So ubiquitous that the mysterious liquid is called just that. Sub sauce.

The Artist stopped and stared, and his colleagues followed his lead. I felt as though we had uttered some verboten phrase – like French Fries after 9/11. Apparently the United States isn’t familiar with sub sauce.

They had no idea.

Of the selections that they offered, we opted for some oil and vinegar, but it just wasn’t the same.

We’re only in the United States, and already we’ve taken baby steps away from familiarity. But culture shock is bound to get worse than this.

Displaced

The first step towards entering a new culture is taking one step out of the present one.

In anticipation of having our townhouse rented for July 1st (which hasn't happened yet), we've packed up our belongings and put them in storage in Laura's parents' basement. Packing up and storing one's belongings is a major undertaking -- and one that sobers us to the reality of just how much stuff can accumulate over time. Anyone who has moved recently can empathize with us, I'm sure.

Of course, we aren't complaining. In Mozambique, as in many parts of the world, people would welcome our problem of having sore muscles because of having to haul so many belongings. Instead, their problems are much more fundamental.

Many don't worry about whether or not their stainless steel bread basket matches the decorative theme of the kitchen. Many are too busy worrying about where to get the bread to stick in the basket.

Renting our townhouse is a critical step in our journey: since we have now both left our jobs, we are not receiving any income, but strangely enough the bank is still insisting that we continue with our mortgage payments every month.

Our empty house is a good reminder that our journey is about to begin; the fact that it's not rented yet a reminder that the road ahead will not always be smooth.

We're now homeless, and will be for the next two months -- until we finally get to move into our apartment in Maputo on September 1st. In the meantime, we'll be moving around quite a lot:

• First, we're staying at Laura's parents' house until we leave Canada on July 9;

• Then we'll be staying for two and a half weeks in Greenwood, Indiana at OMS International's headquarters participating in a cross-cultural training seminar;

• From there, we'll fly to Maputo and think that we're staying with Larry and Susan Weil for a little over a month until our apartment is available.
  

All the while, we're living out of suitcases. Already we can't find some of the things we need. I know I packed that somewhere...

What a relief it will be in September when we have a home of our own, and can unpack these bags!

Further Reading:

Our friend Dave recently sent us a link to a website at which you can enter your salary and receive an estimate of your global wealth ranking.

Volunteers-for-Hire

It's a peculiar bit of reality; an irony if ever there was one. Much of our world teaches us to fixate on wealth, that salary is a scorecard for success in life, and yet it's generally taboo to strut around showing off an impressive scorecard.

Yes, at risk of making you a little uncomfortable for a moment, I'm going to talk about money.

There are as many ways of approaching missions and international development work as there are people, but the spectrum can be roughly divided into two approaches, based on whether or not there is a salary involved.

The first approach is arguably the easiest to understand: apply for and receive a job with a salary with a well-funded organization such as one of the many United Nations agencies, World Vision or Opportunity International. Under this approach, you become an employee with a supervisor and clear expectations.

The alternative is to participate on a voluntary basis as part of a smaller organization (often a faith-based group) who are motivated to do good work but cannot afford to pay for that work. Under this approach, you become responsible both for your work assignments and for seeking donors to cover travel and living expenses.

Laura and I have landed in the latter camp, but there's no value judgment between the two -- neither is superior or inferior to the other, both having their benefits and drawbacks.

As we embark on this strange new frontier of volunteering-as-occupation, Laura and I have been making presentations to large groups and small, hosting fundraising events and writing many letters, all with the hope of capturing the imaginations of people who are willing to contribute to missions and development work with their money.

And people have been responding!

In fact, some of the people that we talk to are only too pleased to give money, seeing it as a way to relieve any obligation to actually travel to Africa themselves. It's perhaps the first time in my life that I've heard people express relief to be asked to provide financial support!

So far, about 75 per cent of our estimated budget for the year has been provided: over $30,000 from 100 different families. That's an absolutely amazing testimony of support from a very broad range of people.

And it's a wonderful encouragement from family, friends and some perfect strangers as we set off to tame the wilds of Africa.

We're Going to Mozambique!

It's official! We will be spending a year in Maputo, Mozambique starting in July.

Planning and discussions have been in the works for many months, and now our departure is just two months away.

Just two months until we set our careers on the back-burner, sell our car, rent out our home and move to Maputo to volunteer alongside a Christian church planting organization called OMS International.

We're excited, yes, and a little nervous too. We don't think of ourselves as the overly adventurous sort. Nor overly religious, though we do try to follow wherever God leads.

We're not theologians or fanatics. We're normal. Average. (Doesn't everyone think they're average, or perhaps just a tad above?)

My purpose in Mozambique will be to establish a micro-enterprise development program to help poor people create their own employment opportunities through training and small loans. A seamstress may need money for a sowing machine and some fabric; a chicken farmer may need money for his first chickens and feed. As these businesses make money, and their family’s financial situations improve, the borrowers repay the loans, which are then re-circulated to a new family.

My wife Laura will be teaching at the Christian Academy of Mozambique (CAM). This is a small Christian school of about 50 English speaking students from around the world -- generally children of missionaries, foreign diplomats and business people. The school offers an accredited American education so that the students can go to North American universities, if they so choose.

Laura, who worked in Canada as a biomedical engineer conducting laboratory research, will be teaching math and science courses to high school students.

She'll find out exactly what classes the school's director needs her to teach a couple of days before starting.

* * * * *

This won't be our first time in Africa. Two summers ago, we travelled to Mozambique as part of a team of seven Canadians from St. John United Church in Hamilton, where Laura's dad was then serving as the senior Pastor.

On that occasion, we were in Africa for about two weeks, and in Mozambique a grand total of four days. Maybe five. This coming year will be very different.

We spent much of those days in Khongolote, a suburb of Mozambique's capital city, Maputo, working alongside Mozambican nationals to build a cinder block church building.

We learned through this process that construction in Mozambique is an activity done from scratch: in order to build a wall, we had to start by mixing concrete and casting cinder blocks in a mold, lining them up under the heat of the African sun to dry before setting them in place.

The new church building in Khongolote was a much-needed improvement over the church's previous make-shift home, which was a large canvas tent prone to collapse under heavy wind or rain.

Prior to the tent, the church's first home, shortly after the community was relocated here as a result of severe flooding five years ago, was the shade of a tree on the same site.

Before leaving Maputo two years ago, we caught the smallest of glimpses of life in Mozambique, including:

• shopping in a local open-air market, where price negotiation and high-pressure sales techniques are tested to the limit

• visiting some of the local church sites and a seminary, which is a cramped and sweltering two-room building

• walking on the Indian Ocean beach -- we were advised not to walk barefoot on the beach in Maputo, advice which we took to heart once we saw its state of cleanliness!

• visiting the school where Laura will be spending a large part of her time.

This brief exposure to Maputo is helping us to be a little more excited -- and a little less nervous -- than we would otherwise have been for the coming year.

But we're also keenly aware that our view of Africa won't be the sheltered, romanticized view of constantly upward progress that we acquired on our first visit. We'll be challenged in the year ahead to live on the edge of stress and discomfort. That's where people allow God to do His best work.