Different in Mozambique

School Supply Shopping is Different in Mozambique.
There are other things to like school clothes shopping, and well....you'll see what I mean. It's different!

We finished school supply shopping for our boys on the weekend before their first day back to school. We had to get the final details, like a protractor and ruler, markers and more dry-erase markers for each of our three boys.

It’s so different shopping for three kids in Colorado, instead of shopping for notebooks and pens in bulk in Chimoio. In Chimoio, we know some of the shop owners where we frequently bought materials for the Iris Chimoio ROG children center, missionary house, and annual school materials. We spent time making sure that the notebooks would be enough for the children according to their grade. That seems similar to school supply shopping here. Then there were textbooks to buy, not for first through 6^th grade. But, we did have to purchase books for the kids who had passed primary school grades. That is very different from what I see here. The shopping process is very different too!

I remember walking down dusty roads looking at the books laid out on the sidewalk. Some of the vendors had a stand with books up off of the ground, others laid a tarp on the edge of the street to mark their ‘area’. We tried to get enough books for our kids to have one each if they went to school at different periods.

The public schools in Mozambique have early morning period, late morning period, and afternoon classes for minors. There is also an evening class offered at most schools for adult learners. We requested many times that our children have the same class periods, but sometimes that wasn’t available. Our kids who have morning classes would pass their textbooks over to the kids who have afternoon classes. They shared their textbooks to do homework. It wasn’t because we didn’t want to purchase more textbooks, there were lots of shortages in textbooks. The textbooks were also renewed pretty regularly, so older versions were no longer wanted in the classroom.

I just ordered my university textbook online, it will be shipped for free by the website to arrive on Saturday. There weren’t enough textbooks in my campus bookstore, so I bought it online. I don’t have to wait into the semester until a shipment of textbooks arrives in our city. Its so convenient.

I didn’t have to barter with a vendor, or find a student who took the class last semester to wrangle a deal with in order to secure a copy of the text. Its actually kinda refreshing. I miss the dust sometimes. I really miss the smells in the air, but only some of them.

I really miss the children. Their laughter and smiles as they opened up new backpacks filled with new notebooks, pens, protractors and colored pencils. It was always a highlight of our year gathering backpacks from the market.

We tried to find the least worn, newest looking second hand bags available. We wanted sturdy bags – hoping that some of them would last more than one school year. We would beat off the dust and make an offer to the seller. Some of them were students themselves, or the age of other students. They sold merchandise that comes in large bundles from shipping containers. We buy from them.

This year my hubby and I bought three brand new backpacks for our boys, from a store. We only bought three backpacks and school is just starting over here, while the school year is moving into a final trimester in Mozambique and soon enough exam season before summer (December) holidays.

It’s so different, yet so much the same. Summer break. Fall Start to new school year. Kids anxious to get back to their friends, some kids a little timid about making new friends. They’re happy to have a nice backpack with school materials inside. Their thrilled about new shoes for the new year. Our kids have a few new outfits to wear to school, but no uniform is required. We have to have our kids in Mozambique fitted for a new school uniform every year. If they change schools, we need to buy two new uniforms. The kids wash their shirts every afternoon since they are required to wear a button up shirt with the school emblem on it, a tie, a pair of long pants, or a skirt for the girls. Its routine to hand wash the shirts, and trade them out each day.

Our boys are really happy they don’t have to wear uniforms. And the other thing that is really different about the schools in Colorado and Chimoio is haircuts.

Our youngest son has a Mohawk/mullet. It’s not a problem. I remember getting notes from the schools in Mozambique about hair length. One of our Mozambican sons came home from school with a chunk of his hair cut out by the professor. They are only allowed to have short trimmed hair – no flat tops. His professor turned his flattop into a mess that required short hair all over – acceptable for the school he attended.

It’s different.

I like the liberties we have here with the school. The clothes, haircuts, and available textbooks are something to celebrate. They don’t replace the joy of bulk shopping, market strolling, dust battling, Matewe learning, and a successful barter, but they are worth celebrating. Of course I miss it, I will miss here when I'm gone...

Where ever you find yourself, there is something worth celebrating. It may be really different than somewhere you spent time before or not. Celebrating doesn’t require a list of comparisons and contrasts; but it does require stopping a few moments and recognizing the smooth things, the easy comforts, and the conveniences that give you more time to do the things you really love.

I really love our kiddos enjoying school. I really love our opportunity to gain a broader education in Colorado. I really love that our kiddos in Mozambique are enjoying their holiday as our kids holiday ended. I love that we get to chat with them on facebook, because the contrast of realities isn’t so distant. Our teenagers have cellphones with a facebook app installed on them. They ask us for help with their school work, their issues, or just say, “Hi, I love you.”

I really love that our kiddos are so well cared for, and so loved. I’m so thankful that there are hands to hold them when we are far away. I’m learning a lot more than just textbook material. I’m learning to celebrate the good things and get back to the essential things that I wanted to do in Mozambique, but just didn’t have this kind of internet connection…..I did what was essential there, now I want to write about it.

I’m posting a blog again, and it’s random. I’m just writing to celebrate, to remember, to evaluate, and to encourage. You are more blessed than you know.

Me too.

Lots of love and blessings,

Missionary Momma Mia 

Growing a family on the mission field

Today is our oldest son's 11^th birthday. I’m amazed at how that boy has grown. Right that is something that almost every mother says. It’s because we know how true that statement really is!!!

We know exactly how many times their life was flashing before our eyes. We know exactly how many times those scrapes and bruises healed so much faster than we imagined. We know how many colds turned into an ugly flu or sinus infection.

It’s not just some common thing to sum up motherhood, it’s an open ended statement that can be applied or interpreted to mean many things. It can be almost always understood as some level of astonishment. We are astonished. Our oldest son has faced so many challenges and life threatening situations and illness that no mother wants her child to face.    

He’s had malaria more times that his little brothers. He’s been closer to black mambas than I want to admit. He’s been too close to open electricity in a construction site. He’s survived a missionary birth in Mozambique.

I can still hear the words in my memory. “Of course you can have your baby in Mozambique. Thousands of women do that every day!” Heidi was so encouraging and loving. We could come back to Mozambique and have our first baby on the mission field. She wasn’t worried, so why should we be? 

His birth didn’t go as planned (not sure how many natural births do follow a birth plan) but nothing could stop our first little guy from showing up right on his due date. I know that his birth was a miracle. That is a story worth fourteen blogs. He was the first Iris Ministries Missionary baby born in Mozambique. Are we proud of that? I don’t think so. I’m thankful to God for protecting us. I’m thankful that sometimes ignorance is bliss, and sometimes God send’s you to Africa with a couple midwifery books, and send a lady missionary who thinks it will be an honor to learn about midwifery and help out at the private clinic.

He was the first. Now that is a loaded statement. It means so much. It means we as parents were brave, maybe a little naïve, but definitely not afraid. It means that we were willing to do something that no one in our tribe had ever done before. Was it seamless without any problems or unknown territory? Um NO. It was brand new. We were pioneers for growing families on the mission field. It works! Kids are alive and growing. Our three boys are doing well in life. Guess what other Iris Missionary families have grown their families on the mission field, and their kids are growing just fine.

Our oldest son is a testament to the faithfulness of God, and to miracles. He was so squishy and a little blue that my husband was worried. We just prayed as he took a moment to draw his first breath. Then there is was, a little tiny cry and a big newborn breath. We look at him now and know that the goodness of God on his life is a rich American, Brazilian and Mozambican inheritance. Our beautiful Mozambican friends told us that Jonathan belongs to Mozambique. We can go back to our countries when we need to, but he is African. He is Mozambican. We would all laugh when our friend Aida said, that he is much lighter than most other Mozambican’s, like cream in coffee! We would laugh. All of our friends know how much we love to drink coffee with cream.

Happy birthday to our firstborn son! We love you forever our little Mozambican, Brazilian, American!!!

Missionary Momma Mia

Missionary Momma Mia

We are definitely an international family, and that will come up now and then, so I should start this little blog about our ‘life’ with a bit of a character description.

Right then, here it is:

Husband is Brazilian. Wife is American. Oldest Son has three nationalities, and all three boys were raised for the majority of their lives in Africa.

So, as you might imagine we do actually have an international family, not very modern, but definitely international. I wasn’t just making that up cause it’s a funny reference to a TV show. Anyhow.

We are actually missionary people. Neither my hubby or me are able to make the claim as the worst missionary because, as so many people already know, that claim has been made by a blogger ‘Jamie the worst missionary ever’, and we won’t pretend to claim being the best missionaries ever. The best is dead, that was Paul –Hands down. No one is really going to be able to win an argument against Paul being the best ever Christian missionary. Evidence is welcome, but it probably won’t shake my opinion.

I’m not gonna be arrogant and pretend like we are perfect. There was only one perfect man on a mission thus far, and his name is Jesus. We are however, interesting missionary people somewhere between the worst and best missionaries. Do we want to be perfect like Jesus? Well that’s the aim people. I’m tired of sucking in life, and repeating the same lessons. It would be nice to get the point and move on. Right? That is kinda my version of sharing in the sufferings of Christ. He suffered unto perfection. He doesn’t ever just do something hard for the sake of it being hard or painful. So I feel like his perfection is attainable, on different levels in different areas of our lives as we follow Jesus.

I don’t try to be the worst or best missionary. I’m not gonna pretend that I am perfect. There might be some areas in my life that are perfected. We all tend to take for granted the childhood lessons that we actually have perfected and are the foundations of our successful living as youth and then adults. I’m really glad that my beautiful brain did accomplish awesome things like regulating my breathing, heartbeat and functionality of other vital organs. It might not be perfect but pretty close to it. I don’t usually have to think about breathing….

I don’t want to take that for granted anymore, or other parts of my life that feel pretty close to perfect. I feel like sharing some of the lessons that I’ve learned as a “not so great, not so terrible” missionary wife and mother of an International Family will be a great foundation for me to perfect writing, even if it is only for my kids.

So here is the beginning of me talking about the things I’ve noticed, learned, am learning, and find literally too funny not to share.

Momma Missionary