MozamWeek

Yesterday we passed a guy selling pineapples... the kind from Zambezia, not from Manica. I know because I have lived here a long time. I have weekly reminders of the accumulation of years of knowledge of this place. It kind of feels good to recognize how much I've grown even if the areas of growth are somewhat trivial... at least, on the surface! January marks the abundance of mangoes... greens abound, but lettuce is too wet and so are tomatoes (seems to be many with black spots right now.) Last week I bought avocados that seemed pretty local (bigger, kind of beat up and flavorful, instead of perfect and shiny and tasteless!) Avocados are usually most available in February. We just finished the November/December glut of lichies, small plums and peaches from orchards in the north of the province were also easy to find... if you know where to look for them! I do... I've been here since before the dawn of the supermarket chains. The local stuff is generally better and cheape

Mozambique is generally accepted as being one of the poorest countries on Earth. That said, a lot has improved since we moved here in 1996 for the first time. My first confrontation with street begging was in Portugal in 1995. I was torn: Give to whom? How much? How to say "no" and not feel guilty? After living with my uncomfortable wealth and struggling with odd reactions to my giving and refraining, I asked God what to do. To my surprise, He answered.  In Portugal, I realized there was a 10 escudo coin that would buy a bowl of soup at any corner cafe. It wasn't extravagant, but it was something substantial enough to help someone who was hungry. This wasn't the most common coin in my pocket. It was almost rare. God "said" through a still, small voice in my heart, "Give those to me and trust me with them." I understood that if I had a 10 escudo coin and someone asked me for money, I could willingly give it and trust God to do the choosing. I did

We have been in Mozambique for a very long time. This is our oldest daughter visiting a village a half hour out of town in 2003. This was most of what she knew about the world at the time. This village was new to her, but not scary or strange. Our home was surrounded by a green, lush garden. Tea time under a guava tree was a daily ritual with Rosa and Maria. I admit, this looks a little "colonial" in some ways. But that is just life in Africa: our kids are white and everyone else is not. When you have a picnic this is what it looks like.  By 2012 my kids were happy in their school. The translation project was well under way. I was out and about visiting friends and finding places to share Nyungwe stories. There weren't many. Not many people were interested yet. We were on the verge of a new big thing, but we didn't know it.  After our "furlough" for a year in 2012-13, we returned to Mozambique. Little Zebra Books started publishi