The-Real-World

(Photo: My school)

When I was nearing the end of my days in college there was a buzz-word making the rounds; it was 'the-real-world' (actually it's more of a phrase, even with my invented hyphens). It would show up in cliche off-hand remarks like 'I guess it's time for the-real-world', or 'I'm not ready for the-real-world', or upon my announcing that I'd be doing 2 (or 3) years with the Peace Corps, 'putting off the-real-world, huh?' But 2 years later, with the majority of that time spent with Peace Corps in Africa, I wonder if I haven't started to indeed taste what the-real-world is all about. I'll tell you why I suspect this to be so, but seeing as I really don't know, I would love feedback from any of you out there who happen to be in touch with... well... 'how it really is'. (email me at zachcenter@gmail.com)
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I live by my schedule. When I was coming through training (both times) there was a lot of talk about having to let go of the 'American fixation' on punctuality and time efficiency, and adapting to 'Africa-time'. But this has not turned out to be my reality. I live my life (Monday through Friday) in tune to a bell that rings at the school and that I can hear from my bedroom. With the only other English teacher at my school gone, I now have 9 turmas which comes out to 27 class periods a week. These classes are spread out among the morning, afternoon, and evening sessions in such a way that you suspect the schedule-maker had some evil plan in mind to absolutely monopolize as much of my day as possible (ok, so I guess I do have a fixation on time efficiency). Take Thursday for example. My class schedule is as follows: 7:50-8:35, 9:40-10:25, 11:20-12:05, 15:05-15:50, 15:55-16:40, 16:45-17:30, 19:25-20:10, and 21:55-22:40. The point being, never before have I been so obsessed with my watch, or so enslaved to the bell. The day often flies by and I don't have a clue where the time went. I keep a list of things that I want to do on my free time, and they don't get checked off (true, that's always been the case). But I wonder, is this what the-real-world's like?
(As a note, I should mention that this notion of 'Africa-time' does exist here in Mossuril. When a meeting is called for 8 you shouldn't really expect people to start rolling in till about 8:45, with the first words to be spoken around 9:30. And at public holiday ceremonies, which occur once a month on average, you're a fool if you show up any more than 2 and a half hours before the appointed time. Africa-time's real, I just don't get to partake in it as much as I'd like.)

Last point in mind; the day's are more or less the same. I roll along to the beat of the routine. Run in the morning (if I can tear myself out of bed), hit the market before they sell out of fish, teach classes, and get food on the table (in the literal sense). I'm coming to a point, now that I've been living in Mossuril for about half a year, that a lot of the exotic newness of it has worn off. Most days pass by in an unremarkable fashion, filled with small highs and lows, but overall just another day. As a result, I find that I often plan way ahead to the next 'get-away', the next 'adventure', which I then keep in my back pocket in case I should need a little jump start to keep me moving. A few weekends ago Jorge and I took our two puppies, Dama do Bling and MC Roger, respectively, on a weekend trek down our pristine coastline. Carrying little more than the clothes on our backs and beers to help us along our way, we spent two days on the move, ultimately reaching a crystal clear seaside lagoon overlooking Ilha de Mocambique with not another soul in sight. That one I have since returned to my back pocket. In my other pocket I have a visit from my family who are coming in late November.


(Photo: Beach, beer, pups)


Money sure is a bitch. I either don't have enough, or it's in the wrong place (like the nearest ATM a day's trip away), or somebody wants it, or it just simply ups and vanishes without me knowing about it (spent, not stolen). It's complicated, really. When I first found out what my monthly stipend/salary was going to be (about 180 USD) I felt pretty poor, because in my experience that's just not a lot of money. Then I got to Mossuril and saw the market, which didn't have much to spend money on, and I felt pretty rich. 6 months on, with my humble but comfortable lifestyle established, I find that money is always tight. I'm not exactly sure what I spend it on, I just know that I spend it. Jorge and I regularly take out loans from one another, and when we're both strapped we go out on credit (I currently owe in 3 different towns). The Peace Corps philosophy on stipend/salary is that we 'volunteers' should receive a monthly sum of money that is on par with that of a basic middle class Mozambican salary. From what I can make of it, I do get paid more or less the same amount as Mozambican teachers with little to no experience (although the older teachers receive a significantly higher salary).
But money is a really tricky and often uncomfortable thing for me, being in the situation I am. With my stipend alone I would be able to live more comfortably than most in Mossuril, and if I'm willing to dip into the little savings I have at home (which I have done repeatedly) I start to live way more comfortably than most (mind you I still don't have electricity, so we're not talking grand extravagance). What it all comes down to is 'inequality', which is not a new concept to me, but never have I personally stared it in the face like I do now. In my previous experience (in the States) people of the same general economic class always seemed to segregate themselves (or be segregated by others) making life far more comfortable for some. To be clear, I've generally just learned about inequality, not lived with it. Now I have a close relationship with a family of near starving children (my neighbors who I wrote about recently) who I think about every time I spend money, be it frugally or lavishly. It comes down to the feeling that for various reasons I have money hanging around my neck, slowly taking a tighter and tighter stranglehold; that sound real-worldish?


(Photo: My neighbors - Tahabo (the little one), Adia and Nando)



















There is so much damn potential. And this one is important, because as I read back over what I've written I can see things turning to the negative, when really it's all headed in the other direction. There is so much good stuff ahead, and that's why I'm still here. There's professional potential in the sense that I'm part of a new, young school. Teachers and students alike are eager and energetic, and everybody claims to be dying to learn English (and I believe about 20 of them). There's personal potential in the sense that I have this entire community opening up to me and expressing interest in who I am and what I'm doing. And there's learning and growing potential that spans the gamut. Each day I'm here I feel like I'm forced to look a little further inward than I ever have before (it can get a little frightening). The point is that I feel like I have a really clear view of what could be done and what I could achieve, I just have to go ahead and do it; I sincerely hope that's what the-real-world is like.
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So I'll keep plugging along, to the sound of the bell, and to the beat of the routine. I'll keep spending money, because ultimately that's just what you do with it. And I'll keep trying to fulfill that potential, because otherwise what's the point.

Still training for the-real-world,
Zach