Some Common Reminders that this is not the Western World

It is not entirely uncommon that men have more than one wife. Just last week when I was asking my co-worker how her kids and husband were, she replied nonchalantly, "I assume my husband is fine, but he works an hour away and lives with his other wife and family during the week. He spends the weekends here." I tried to mask my disbelief. I assumed that it was only women with low education levels and in rural settings that were part of polygamous relationships. Yet here was my intelligent co-worker with a good job and four kids of her own telling me she was a "casa dois" (casa dois is the term for second wife).

· One of the main campaigns my organization is working on in partnership with big INGOs such as WorldVision, Save the Children, and UNICEF is child registration. This entails visiting the homes of orphans and vulnerable children (those directly affected by the AIDs crisis) to fill out registration forms. In the US this is automatically completed at birth, but since not all babies are born in hospitals many births go unrecorded. I observed as my counterpart Paula went through a series of questions. Again, I found myself astonished by how many small children busy playing in the dirt nearby were orphaned from their parents' AIDs-related deaths. Time and time again, Paula checked the boxes on the registration form for both "mother living" and "father living" as no. In the boxes that indicated their weekly food consumption, only rice and vegetables were checked. The boxes remained empty for meat, dairy, fruits, etc. If they had a nutrition pyramid, most of the food groups would not be on it.

· Child safety is practically unheard of. We see young kids playing with sharp knives instead of rattles. There are not labels reading this is dangerous for a child 8 and under. What's more is, they have little parent supervision. The amazing thing is you do not see many accidents, though you can tell they do occur by all the scars.

· These are the most resourceful kids I have ever seen. I love observing the games they play and the toys they make because it takes talent and creativity. In place of juggling balls we'd buy at a toy store, they use round fruit from the trees. In place of an expensive toy car, they use recycled cans and wire to construct handy toy vehicles. Just goes to show you don't always need expensive things.

· When you take public transportation, count on two things: it is always PACKED and PUBLIC in the largest sense of the word. The main public transport is a chapa, which is essentially a mini-van converted into a small passenger bus. In the States, I am accustomed to riding in cars with air conditioning and personal space. Not so here! The chapa experience can be likened to two American games. o Public: You often find yourself in more compromising positions than on a Twister board – sometimes standing, limbs intertwined, a free-for-all. You have a simple choice to make: be supremely uncomfortable or embrace the experience. I try to embrace, but thank God for the heaven on Earth I will experience when I ride in an air-conditioned private car again! o Packed: Every chapa ride is a game of Sardines. How many people can we pack into one small space? At the very least, 18 people. 4 people in each of the 4 back rows and 2 more up front. To top it off, you squeeze assorted babies and live chickens to fill in any remaining spaces.

· Their version of a movie theater in small Mozambican towns is far from the luxurious American movie-theater experience. Instead of stadium seating, surround sound, and grand multi-showing air-conditioned theatres, the Chibuto movie theaters are bamboo buildings. Rather than high-quality films, the movie is some English-speaking action-packed movie without subtitles like Rambo. This does not sound appealing to me so I have yet to enter. I am holding out to once again be my dad's movie date next December. The difference is one movie ticket in the States is about $10 a pop while Moz theatres cost 1 metical or about 4 US cents. They do say you get what you pay for…

· I do not shop for food in a grocery store because they only exist in the capital, Maputo. Rather I go to the market. I alternate between loving it and dreading it. It's convenient to buy fresh vegetables and fruit and know they'll be available everyday. The market is chaos that somehow works – the constant movement of buying and selling, women weaving about in colorful skirts and baskets on their heads, dodging the steady stream of cars. It is a vibrant scene that keeps you on your toes, which I appreciate. I also enjoy the friendly interactions and not having to deal with cash registers and long super market lines. However, some days the thought of entering the market exhausts me because as a foreigner you get a lot of special attention that I do not want to face some days. Alas, regardless of my mood I brave the market everyday equipped with my woven basket (I still have not carried it on my head, maybe I'll brave that by year 2) and a smile.

· While I'm on the subject of food, you can buy an entire cow's head at the butcher. Each time I walk by and see the cow's head it surprises me because it looks like it might moo at me any minute. The live chickens, goats, and pigs you take home to cook for dinner do not faze me, but I can't get over the cow. My parents reminded me that it is how you buy food in most of the world, but I spent the first 22 years of my life buying frozen meat that bears little resemblance to the animal. I think seeing how the rest of the world lives and where my food really comes from is good for me….hey girl heyyyy this is reality. (I couldn't resist a small, cheesy tribute to my fabulous senior year).

· If there is not a dressing room when shopping, it's perfectly acceptable to create your own in public. Yesterday I found myself in thrift store junky heaven in our second-hand clothing market. The occasion was finding a chique de doer top for my first real Mozambican girl friend my same age. She is the oldest of 5 kids and about to start studying journalism at university, so we hit it off. It was comforting to shop with my new friend Netty because it reminded me of being home with my sisters and friends. Netty found a top she liked and tells me she is going to experimentar (try it on). I tried not to laugh out loud when she stripped down to her bra right there on the spot as people continued passing through the market. I will not follow suit because I am a foreigner, but I love that it doesn't matter here. This is probably Reason #465 why I love Mozambique.