Babies and Beans

3 April

So I am sitting here, listening to Mozambican music – Dama do Bling’s Fazer Striptease is obviously on the list, as I am cooking my beans. As any of you who have actually made beans from scratch know, this is quite a lengthy process. Thus, I have decided to spend my time pondering teen pregnancy.

Yes this is sort of a strange framework, but as I peeled my tomatos (because the Mozambicans have truly rubbed off on me, and now I do this in most dishes even though I know it peels away so many vitamins.) I began counting how many of my students have already had to transfer to night classes or drop out of lessons to give birth. This of course led to me then thinking about the number of students I have run into as I meander to the market,

“teacher teacher, meet my baby.”
I say:“hello baby”
I think: mama, you cant be more than 17.

But what actually spurred this preoccupation with pregnancy was the sudden influx of people under the age of five in my house.

As I have said before, my little house on the hill is a veritable hotel at times. This week was no different… except this time the tenant required babysitting.

Hortência came home from a weekend in Maputo, and in addition to her sister who is a usual visitor/I think she sort of lives with us, I was surprised to find her brother’s 4 and a half year old vicious vicious but oh so cute when he isn’t biting you baby boy.

So, I like kids, and its all well and good to take your nephew for a week, but the simple fact that I work in the morning and you work in the afternoon does not automatically make me a babysitter thank you very much. I have tests to grade, and grades to record, and just generally like to take a nap or leisurely stroll to the market.

Well, I couldn't really do anything between feeding, and keeping food from the little man, between playing with him and trying to keep him from hitting/biting me. Let’s just say we got off to a rough start when he ate all of my laughing cow cheese, tootsie rolls, and bananas – luxury items around these parts - then proceeded to have diarrhea from eating too much. He got what he deserved if you ask me… but unfortunately I had to deal with the consequences as well.

Baby mania then continued when my embregada came to cart water, and left her baby sleeping on a reed mat on my porch, and Meghan, the volunteer who was at my site before me but since finishing her peace corps service has now decided to stay here and live with her Mozambican boyfriend and his 3 year old, Bruno – yes it makes for interesting dynamics having her in this tiny tiny little roadside village, but she is very nice, and that's another story altogether.

Talk about uma casa cheia de bebes.

As one was trying to fall off the veranda, the other was trying to hit himself in the head with the car door. The baby was waking up, spitting up, and just generally crying, the five year old asked me to nurse him, and the three year old danced precariously on the stairs.

To top it all off, later that day, after being totally totted out, the boy I am dating told me he had 2 kids.
“Everyone here has kids Caitlin”

Now that I think about it, the man has a point. 50% of the population is under the age of 18… if you visit you will notice, practically every female has a baby strapped to her back with a capulana.

Luckily, it turns out that April Fools Day exists in Mozambique too, “dia das mentiras,” and he doesn't actually have any children. I should have known he wasn't serious when he said his sons name was Sammy. No one in Mozambique is named Sammy.

So anyway, after a long day busting with babies I have decided to begin a girls group. Well, I sort of had the idea already. Peace Corps has an organization called REDES – Raparigas em Desenvolvimento, Educação e Saúde, and I have wanted to start a chapter at my school.

Shoot, I think I just burned my beans… but I am beginning the good fight against HIV and teen pregnancy. So I guess it’s worth it.