Giving out hot stew on an Easter Saturday

The hardening of John’s heart …

It’s been eye-opening working for not-for-profits here in Mozambique. Eye-opening because you see an amazing world of politics and competitiveness worth billions of US dollars; eye-opening also because you begin to develop insights into what makes various forms of foreign aid effective or ineffective - ultimately both perspectives into the mixed nature of humanity's heart.

Unbeknownst to most donors in Western countries, handouts (giving food/cash/otherwise) to people in third world countries is HIGHLY ineffective. Invariably, once the handout runs out, people are still as poverty-stricken as before. Worse still, the residual curse of a mentality of getting freebies is left – where people stop working in preference for begging (from strangers or other members of family). In fact, I would argue that handouts from often-well-meaning Western countries is one of the reasons Africa’s poverty has been perpetuated.

Having understood this logically and economically, I must say, my heart has been hardened towards the numerous beggars I meet on the street. Easily I conclude that handouts will not help them for long; in fact, it will keep them asking for more handouts and potentially develop less income-generating skills. Thus, turning away from the many beggars (and craft peddlers) that roam the streets becomes second nature.

Honestly, I’ve become sick – hardened? - to the number of open “give me something for free” hands (imagine a cupped hand, palm facing up) that I see in the streets. Actually, what really gets me is when middle class Africans do it too – not with their hands, but with their speech; often asking for things from foreigners like me. “Can you buy me a laptop?” one asked me. “Can you shout me dinner?” another one would ask. In fact, this is part of the problem of doing not-for-profit work here: it’s hard to judge the motives of those that ask for loans or grants – do they actually intend to run a profitable business, or just run off with the money?

Giving out hot cross soup on an Easter weekend …

Every Easter Sunday (when I’m in Sydney, anyway!) youth from our church get up VERY EARLY to give out hot cross buns and tea to all manner of people at the Opera House. Well, seeing I couldn’t do that without spending thousands of dollars on air tickets, I decided to help the “Faith kitchen”. This is where we got this massive (1 metre diameter!) pot of meat, vegetables and pasta and served it with shima (this really bland flour-type Mozambican food - pictured below), serving about 80 homeless people for lunch.



I had the job of dishing out the stew to everyone. Two scoops. I looked all 70-80 of the people who came in the eye. Some were really thankful, and gave me a hug (though I can’t blame them – I am a lovable guy!); some felt too ashamed to look up, others annoyed at having to wait so long (I wasn’t the world’s greatest scooper, I admit!).

And then it hit me …

I then realized what I was doing, in some kind of weird, ironic, confusing way. In the innocent act of giving out soup at Easter, I was doing what I had decided through this trip was not good.

I was giving handouts to people.

This intrigued and confused me. What did that mean? Does that mean I shouldn’t have done that? Does that mean I shouldn’t give out Easter buns in Sydney? Or maybe just not to poor people? Or maybe only those not capable of getting meaningful work?! Maybe just old and disabled people, not others?

I have no idea what to think.

Blessings,
john

My big news … TIME EXTENSION!

For those of you who didn’t receive my email, my big news is that I’ve been offered a contract to stay on with Technoserve as a Project Manager, investigating whether it would be profitable to set up a oilseed and livestock feed industry in Mozambique! I'm loving it here so I decided to stick around, and it sounds like a great experience.

So, I won’t be back until May (insert boos and sighs here) …

… Which has brought me back to my favourite stomping ground, Maputo, the capital. Every time I come here, it’s like I’ve grown up a few years …

• When I first got here, I was a nervous (and jetlagged!) young wide-eyed tourist, not knowing what to do. About lots of things.
• Upon my return, I was a consultant again, confidently interviewing people for information.
• On my next trip, I was even more learned, and assumed the role of a teacher-trainer.
• The last time, I was welcomed as the financial expert in the office, able to analyse clients’s business plans in a matter of minutes and make insightful recommendations (synthesized with witty humour).
• And now – I return as a project manager, no longer a volunteer!

What next?! I guess we’ll find out …

Happy Easter
john

Picture: A cross on a hill on a cloudy day in Zimbabwe ...

An accidental visit to the witch doctor and the “face off”

Hey everyone,

This morning I decided to get in touch with my exercise side (since negated by my consumption of an entire Hawaiian pizza this afternoon … my stomach now hurts. Mmmm, sweet pineapple) and 4 of us (me, an American, and 2 Canadians) thought we’d get up nice and early to walk to Chimoio’s most famous – and only – mountain, nicknamed “the old man’s face” (?!).

It was a nice long walk, and quite pleasant – 5 kilometres to the base of the hill, mostly through dusty Chimoio villages and farms. Along the way, there were plenty of interesting, “rustic” sights … including my favourite, some philosophical graffiti …



As aforementioned, this mountain is called “the old man’s face”, because apparently it looks like the profile of an old man’s face, lying down on the ground. See what you think* …?



The hill itself was nice, but unexciting (particularly compared with the gorgeous Zimbabwe mountains). However, it had a few interesting features – including a near-impossible steep climb up. It was only later we discovered that the path was actually on the other side of the mountain. Doh!

When we actually got up to the top, it was pretty unexciting – there really isn’t that much to see in Chimoio at all. At all. Though, despite the bland-ish views, it’s beautiful with the fresh wind blowing in your face, fresh in the morning (to simulate this, try and make blowing noises whiles looking at these photos)



The only really interesting part of the trip (apart from getting some good exercise, and discussing Canadian-American politics) was, once we were up the top, we realized that we were sharing the peak of the mountain with the local Chimoio witch doctor. (“Which doctor?”, I hear you ask. Exactly.) In fact, the steady stream of people running past us were all going to see her. We only realized this when she started screaming loudly, face thrust towards Chimoio, waving her hands and shouting angrily in some kind of local language. She wasn’t too happy to see us either, when we realized we were temporary neighbours, and gave me a rather unhappy look …

God bless
john

*Don’t worry, like those funny magic eye puzzles it took me a while to see the face. See what you think looking side on at the face – pretty realistic, huh?

Luke 15 – The case of the lost parrot

I’m not an animal fan. In fact, I really only like animals that have been cooked, roasted, barbequed, stewed … (I think you get the picture). (Mmm … sweet chicken) I like sweet jelly animals also, preferably ones doused in chocolate.

Anyway, at this great bed and breakfast where I’ve been staying, the owners love animals. They have this massive dog heavier than I am walking around the house (it has taught me never to show fear around dogs … they really can smell it!), as well as a little one, just for good balance. I’m allergic to dogs (and kiwifruit, incidentally).

But the most annoying animal they have is this rare grey African parrot worth $1000, I discovered, and come from obscure parts of South Africa. This thing is unbelievably noisy, particularly when there are people around (attention seeker!). When I’m having breakfast each morning, this thing – Jethro – does NOT shut up, shouting “Hello” around 5,000 times an hour, making this annoying whistling noise inbetween words. How it manages to achieve continuous sound seemingly without breathing is simply a medical phenomenon. For some reason, everyone (especially the owners) loves this bird, and many guests to the house play with it – often with the cage open (anyone who has seen the Hitchcock movie ‘The Birds’ will think twice before doing this).

On Saturday, however, Jethro flew away. Initially I was elated – finally I could watch TV over breakfast in peace! – but when I saw how sad the owners were that Jethro was gone, I felt terrible (and somewhat guilty for feeling elated earlier). They tried to put on a happy face for us guests, but I could see in their eyes how sad they were that one of the family was gone, presumed alive, but possibly dead.

For days we searched in vain, making whistling noises and trying to see if any of the locals had picked him up, but to no avail. We even prayed for Jethro in church! The days wore on, again, no change. The rain came. We worried that the thing would freeze – or worse – already been killed by a car, maybe some local looking for some feathers or a snack.

But, just a few minutes ago, we got a call that someone had found the parrot (we’re picking it up tomorrow). Oh, the sheer elation! I remember the look of excitement in the eyes of the owners, the excited jitters a child gets when opening Christmas presents, the sleepless nights before holidays started for primary schoolers. It’s an emotion of joy we (sadly) experience less and less as we get older and older, but what a buzz to be around!

My favourite writer Phillip Yancey once discussed a time when he had lost 4 months’ worth of book manuscript on a work trip, only to have it returned by a cleaner a few days later. I still (roughly) remember his words:

“It was a heartwrenching loss. How could I ever write those chapters again? … But when it was found, the joy of finding that manuscript far exceeded any joy I ever had in writing it in the first place.”

I’m not going to enjoy having Jethro back. But hey, it was too quiet around the house anyway. And it is great to be part of a “was lost, but not is found” story! And a great reminder for me.

Blessings
john

ps this is NOT the parrot (I presume), but the WORST chicken I had on my trip, in Lichinga ... tiny little fried thing (I ate it anyway, out of duty ...)

(Ex-) Patriate Games: The African Olympics

After spending a morning walking around Chimoio city looking for action (well, kind of), my mate Rui and I went up to one of his friend’s places, about halfway between here and Zimbabwe. Again, these were some expatriates – not ones working for NGOs – but people from Zimbabwe and South Africa who were now doing business here. They had set up four houses next to the lake/dam and had wired it with water, electricity, and, of course, cable TV.

We had a great time eating food (as always) along with watching the rugby (go the Waratahs and Brumbies … yes, we get Super 12 action here!).

But, as afternoon moved into evening, and inspired by the rugby coverage, the group of men (about 8 of us) decided we would “test our manhood” by creating a rather random series of tribal games made possible by the somewhat unlikely availability of a javelin.

My favourite one involved throwing a javelin …



… To hit a garbage bag placed 10 metres away that was full of, well, something:



We would do this in pairs competing against other pairs (a bit like a 2-on-2 pool game at the pub). The unfortunate losers, regardless of size, would then have to carry the winners on their backs to the palm trees and back (about 30 metres).



… All I can say is, ouch! And, for that particular person, welcome to the wonderful world of backpain! Though, for us spectators – when a smaller team lost to a much bigger team – it sure was a great laugh …

God bless
john

Training people who speak a little bit of English = hard

Well, I’ve been back in Chimoio all week, training various people in the art of putting together a business proposal (which I found was more effective when I called it “the art of persuasion”) as well as training them to train the people who will train farmers in business planning (yes, it’s a long food chain I know).

I love conducting training. Okay, maybe not physical training, but training in bible and business stuff I definitely enjoy. However, this week presented me with a new challenge – training people who didn’t speak English. Or, to be more specific, who spoke a little English.

If training people who don’t speak the same language (via an interpreter) is frustrating, training people who speak a little of the same language but not quite enough to completely understand you or feel comfortable speaking in is actually more frustrating.

Why? I hear you say (I have very big ears you know).

At least if they completely don’t understand English, EVERYTHING has to go through the interpreter. But if they understand just a little …

1. I’m not sure whether they’ve understood me or not, so I keep pausing and looking.
2. If they don’t understand me, they’ll start speaking in Portuguese to one of the other students, meaning that both of them can’t hear me.
3. If they have questions, because there’s no clear interpreter, often they’ll just ask one of the other students
4. I don’t know if they get me jokes, damaging my ego …

Well, we got through it. Later, I heard from a reliable 3rd party that this was 'the best training they had ever given by an Australian'!

God bless
john



(Yes, for those with keen eyesight, you’ll notice we have the 3 Ws – the who, the what, and the why!)

Random collection of pictures Volume 1

Hey everyone,

sorry I've been pretty non-blogging over the last few weeks. Dissatisfied customers can apply for a 200% refund*!

Just wanted to share with you some of the highlights of some of my favourite places (and favourite things) before I forgot to post them ...


In Lichinga ... (three weeks ago)

Sometimes people tried to sell me random things in the street. Here is a monkey that was going for $15 I think. How could people possibly sell animals like that!

I mean, I would've paid $10 max!*



*just kidding - johninmoz.blogpost.com does not condone the selling of monkeys, even if profitable

In transition between Beira and Chimoio ... (two weeks ago)

I made my way from Beira to Chimoio in a crowded bus. And I mean really crowded. This baby was sitting on my lap half the day. The rest of the time (pictured below), it was trying to impersonate Arnie in the final scene of "Total Recall" ...



(apologies if joke doesn't make sense - it's the altitude)

In Swaziland: (two weeks ago)

Here's a picture of something eating, well, something else. I like to think of it as "fattening the calf for the banquet" ...



Zebras are everywhere in Swaziland! Well, in the game parks anyway (strangely) ...



So are ostriches. The thing to the left is a snare ... made of wrapped up iron and barbed wire, intended to catch animals at night (insert evil laughter ... again)



In Zimbabwe: (one week ago)

Beautiful roasted sweet corn. The fact that it cost 20 Australian cents made it taste even better ... (it nearly tasted as good as free samples you get from the supermarket ... mmmm .... free food)



Blessings
john (aka Picasso) (wasn't he some famous photographer or something?!) =)

Telling people that their entire company is bankrupt = awkward silences

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been doing what has become my specialty during the course of this trip: analyzing the profitability of a Mozambique company – rapidly.

As I’ve gotten better and quicker at this, I’ve noticed that there are a LOT of Mozambican companies NOT making money. Here’s one of my experiences over the past time …

Unfortunately today I had the responsibility of preparing and facilitating a presentation for a company that, despite the owner’s best efforts, is losing money and is quite bankrupt, to say the least. Our responsibility was to put together an analysis, pure and simple, of the current state of the company – for full view of financiers and creditors.

Nice, slick powerpoint presentations can’t hide the raw emotion of pouring years into a venture that isn’t making money. We spent about two hours presenting graphs, breakdowns, profit analyses and what would need to change in order for the company to make a profit.

Exasperated, the owner and key creditors began to think of inventive ways how profit could be lifted. We entered it into the model – still making a loss (Excel financial models are a bit cold like that. They don’t smile at you either. Except for that stupid office assistant paperclip …).

Finally, the owner turned to one of the financial consultants into the room and asked a question I’ll never forget …

Owner: Honestly, what do you think of our prospects?
Expert: Honestly – you guys are #$%##@!!
(awkward silence)
Owner: (turning to potential financier) What do you think?
Financier: Yeah – you’re $#@#$@!!

It was an interesting day, and there are increasingly more of them ... =)

Blessings
john

A beautiful, yet sad place

Zimbabwe the beautiful

1. Whilst falling out of favour with the tourist market (in fact, very few tourists come through Zim anymore, unlike the 1990s) Zim people are very friendly. In fact, I spent the entire weekend with people I met for the first time on Saturday – playing golf with some, and going to church and the mountains with another!

2. I went to church on Sunday in the beautiful Nyanga mountains, which are some of the most beautiful mountains I’ve ever seen. Apparently the reason they are so rocky is because it used to be quasi-volcanic or something. But hey, I’m no scientician …



3. I hitched a ride with a rather random set of nice old people to another set of mountains, the Vumba, to a large hotel called Leopard Rock. Leopard Rock has a beautiful 18-hole gold course with an incredible view.

Unfortunately, not many people who are left in the country can afford to play it, meaning it is usually very empty. I can’t play golf to save my life, so I decided to enjoy the view with a cup of tea (20 cents). I then got bored, so after taking some photos I went to the beautiful yet completely deserted driving range ($1 for 50 balls).



Seeing it was only $1 for an hour, I decided to get a caddy for an hour to watch my technique. He was very thankful – he explained that he only gets a job once every 2 weeks, and that’s his only income. Here he is pointing out where my balls lay (I wasn’t very accurate at all).




Zimbabwe the not-so-beautiful

1. Much of Zimbabwe enjoyed its mecca during the 1980s. Unfortunately, Mutare (the city where I stayed) looks like it has been frozen there. In fact, it quite eerily feels like being in Newcastle, frozen in 1987 but slowly aging …



2. In fact, everything is ageing in Zimbabwe. I got invited to afternoon tea at this huge estate, boasting a massive botanical garden. Everything was overgrown and full of weeds. The botanical gardens even boasted a maze (!) – but, when I went to try it, I found it to be all dead and full of holes. It still looked scary though …



3. Whilst being in a cheap country makes me happy (just calculate the savings!), being in Zim ultimately makes me sad. The newspapers and TV are 1984-esque (amazingly so), most of the skilled labour has fled the country, despite being peace-loving and upbeat, the remaining locals have reducing amounts of hope. I questioned them, suggesting that things are now so unsustainable economically and socially that SOMETHING has to change. They commented that they felt that way four years ago …?! But since then, inflation has increased more, unemployment is officially at 80%+, and there are shortages, queues ...



Blessings
john

Zimbabwe, the cheapest country I’ve ever been to

Hey everyone,

Sorry for not blogging for so long. I’ve been busy, distracted – last night I broke the lock on my bedroom door whilst trying to get back in and spent the night sleeping in the spare room at the bed and breakfast!

I spent the weekend in Zimbabwe, having met some people at this party I went to on Wednesday night with a whole lot of Zimbabwean farmers. I spent most of my time in Mutare, one of the biggest cities.

There is SO MUCH to tell about Zimbabwe but for you economists out there, Zimbabwe is officially the cheapest country I’ve ever been to. And there’s one good reason – hyperinflation.

Zimbabwe’s official inflation rate is “only” 129% (for the uninitiated, that means that something that costs $1 today will cost $2.29 in one year’s time – the current value in Australia is about 3%). The real inflation rate, from my conversations with small business holders though (who I randomly happened to have lunch with on Sunday?!) is about 600%.

This makes doing business there almost impossible as inflation spirals – unions anticipate that prices will rise by 600+% and ask for 1000% wage rises, pushing prices up even more. And, as inflation increases, the actual value of the dollar decreases. Dramatically.

In 1980, the Zimbabwe dollar was worth MORE than the US dollar. Now, the official exchange rate is 6000 Zimbabwe dollars for 1 US dollar, with the black market rate as high as 20,000 Zimbabwe dollars for 1 US dollar!?

The funny (yet tragic) thing is, all the notes from when the dollar was worth more still exist. For example, while I was over there, we used $50 notes (worth less than one Australian cent!).



Also, they have had to introduce larger notes, such as the $20,000 one – which is still only worth between $1 and $3 US dollars.



If you look closely, you’ll see that this is one of the few currencies on earth that has an expiry date?! And isn't actually a "note" ... it's a "bearer cheque" ...?!



Even once I spent the money, deep inside the aging Zimbabwe supermarkets lay one of my deepest, darkest enemies* …



More to come.

Blessings
John

*for those of you who don’t know, I don’t like kiwifruit, for a variety of medical/emotional reasons

john

A visit to Swaziland (+ note about the pictures!)

Hey everyone,

Firstly - sorry about most of the photos not working. The image hosting website I use has decide to stop hosting photos until it ''beefs up our server cluster''. I don't know what that really means, but (i) I hope it involves actual beef, (ii) I need to find another free image hosting website when I get a moment and transfer them there. In the meantime, if you haven't seen the photos yet, feel free to use your imagination ...!

On a completely different note - I went to Swaziland today. Swaziland is an amazing little country. Nestled in the midst of gorgeous mountain ranges and with a million people, it is one of the world's few remaining absolute monarchies - where King Mswati III can, well, pretty much do whatever he wants, and no one can stop him (insert evil laughter here). Despite this, Swaziland appears to be substantially more advanced than Moz. Heaps.

Once I get this photo upload thing fixed (has anyone here done an IT degree?) I'll share some of the snaps ... but five of my top ten highlights included:

1. Getting far too close to a giraffe in a game park, before my mate Neville warned me that giraffes, whilst friendly looking, punch using their head and long neck, then kick you when you're down. Ouch.
2. Finding an awesome backpackers hostel which used to be run by the guy running the Lodge I was consulting to for a week - they literally have zebras, buffalo and gazelle prancing around the car park! Oh, and ping pong!
3. Eating a kudu. (here's a photo of one I've 'borrowed' from another website) It takes like steak, except ... different ...
   
   
4. Getting told off for taking photos. Swazis assume that if you are holding a camera, you are taking photos of them (I usually ask for permission). I was taking a photo of some fruit at the fruit market, when a big lady starting chasing me back to the car, shouting "I'll kill you!" (A little excessive, I thought - luckily I was as fleet footed as a gazelle and got back to the car in time).
5. Is it bribery if they make it really, really obvious? It costs 5 rand (just over $1 Australian) to bring a vehicle into Swaziland. The lady at Swazi customs took out 100 rand note, and wished us well.

We said: Don't you have change?
She said: (without even hesitating) No, no change!
We said: Umm ... okay. Do you take US dollars?
She said: Yes. Two US dollars (equivalent to about 12 rand, not 5).
We said: (after scouraging through our wallets, only to find $5 US). Do you have change?
She said: No, no change! (again without even hesitating)
I said: This is unbelievable! You know this is not right.
She said: Don't worry, it's not for the government, it's for me!
We said: (Nothing - we were flabbergasted)

Will update soon. I'm off to a new province tomorrow - Sofala, on the coast, to the second biggest city in Mozambique (insert drum roll and sound effects) Beira.

Blessings
john

Technology is in the eye of the beholder

2 months ago, when I first got to Maputo, I think I described the place as 'a dump'. The streets were dirty and often deserted, and food took half an hour to get here.

It is now my 4th trip to Maputo, and every time I come, it keeps getting better.

Having arrived back from Lichinga, Maputo is seriously like New York. I've got a new appreciation of infrastructure, time and cleanliness. Here are some of thoughts that have run through my head since I got back ...

• 'Wow, we have mobile reception all the time here!'
• 'Wow, the taps work!'
• 'My food only takes half an hour to get here!'´
• 'Electricity ... 24 hours a day!'
• 'There are no queues at the ATMs! And they have money inside!'
• 'Gelato!!!! In fact, refrigeration in general!!!'
• 'Roads with tar, not dirt!'

Technology and advancement ... it's all perspective.

Sitting in an old house eating cheap pastries in a storm on a summer’s night … Goodbye, Lichinga

After two and a half weeks, my last night in Lichinga came.

A few of us young volunteer/lowly-paid NGOers met up in the new café in town, enjoying my first kebab of the trip and the first hamburger in Lichinga’s short history (they’ll even have pizza once the head chef gets over malaria)?! Then, grabbing some pastries before the bakery closed, we ran home in the rain and spent the night talking about what on earth we planned to do with our lives next.

One was heading off to London to look for NGO work there, another one going back to, another had signed up to do water/AIDS work here until 2007 (!?!), and there was me, heading back to Australia.

We then spent the rest of the night transferring Simpsons movies off my laptop on CDs to those remaining behind (“You’re a lifesaver!”, they said). This was to prevent them from re-watching their selection of DVD movies for a 7th time on “lonely rainy Lichinga nights” …

What will I mss about Lichinga? Well, there’s a few things I WON’T miss. 2 hours of electricity a day (sometimes less), a lack of running water most of the time (again unpredictable), days with the entire mobile network not working, unusable land telephones, lots of people roaming the streets looking for work (someone tried to sell me a monkey for $15 before I left! I couldn't believe it. For starters, I could get them for $10 at the markets ...).

But it was nice there. Lots of interesting missionaries to talk to, nice sunsets, young people, no traffic lights, kids playing soccer in the fields, hectares upon hectares of unspoiled forrest ... this was innocent Africa, the real Africa at last?

Goodbye Lichinga. Until next time (Somehow, I don’t think there’ll be a next time …!).

Blessings
John

Postlude: pictures that summarise Lichinga

An etching on a wall I found in the middle of Niassa on a house …


A dunny for a house next to Lake Niassa – my tribute to Lichinga, “the forgotten armpit of Mozambique”, as someone said

The life of an ex-patriate missionary in Lichinga …

… is not easy at all.

The great thing about Lichinga for me has been two groups of people who I haven’t really found elsewhere in my travels around Mozambique: young ex-pats working as volunteers (or low-paid workers) here in foreign aid, and a group of missionaries, including some Aussies (yay, token Aussies!). In fact, there are heaps of missionaries here.

Which is strange, because it is really tough to be a missionary here. As I’ve fellowshipped, sang songs, and ate with these people (and for free! I tried to pay, honest…!), I’ve really enjoyed their company, but become increasingly aware of the difficulty of their task.

So, on that note, I’ve compiled a list of ...

7 reasons why it’s hard to be a missionary in Lichinga

1. Everyone stares at you. It probably doesn’t happen much in Maputo (heaps of white people there), and I didn’t really notice it in Chimoio, but I notice it here. It is hard, never quite fitting in, always being looked at (though for a while I thought it was because of my overwhelming attractiveness).

2. You are the handyman for everything. Pastors think they have it tough in Australia, having to do paperwork, admin etc (and I agree they probably have to do too much). If you’re a missionary in the middle of Africa, you have to do everything, from physical things (fixing doors and pipes and houses) to admin things (standing at the bank for hours to get money out), not to mention all the spiritual things of teaching and prayer and outreach.

3. It can take years to see fruit (not that kind of fruit, spiritual fruit!). For most ministry things I’m involved with, we prepare for an event for a few weeks, maybe months, and then it happens. For missionaries, they spend YEARS preparing – learning the language, building a house, getting settled … before they even start spreading the gospel.

4. You don’t have many friends (just through sheer lack of supply, not because you’re not likeable!).

5. You still have to worry about money and fundraising – particularly for unexpected costs. For example, in Lichinga, you need to purchase a license for just about everything – having a car radio, the right the carry more than 3 people in your car, put stickers (or even pieces of paper) on your car, take photos of buildings – these are the results of having excess government bureaucracy, each department creating ways to increase revenue and bribes (This is Africa, boss!).

6. A lot of people don’t like you and think you are rich. The local YWAM base here has been robbed 3 times in the last week, including twice yesterday (once during the night and then once during the morning when the guard went to report it).

7. When you’re sick, you’re sick! I went to the hospital the other day to have a look, at it wasn't pretty (and I'm not talking about the matron). Vials of blood and pieces of glass being wiped with recycled towels ... ugh! You are hours (and a number of roadblocks) away from decent medical treatment.

On a brief side note …

I always thought that if I ever became a missionary in the middle of Africa, I would leave behind all my business and management consultancy training. Far from it! Missionaries here need to be smart with both time and money (just getting enough time to do actual ministry with all the bureaucracy is tough!), and I’m finding in my discussions with the problems they are going through I can add a lot of value by using issue trees* and a lot of the efficiency/effectiveness analysis tools I learned at McKinsey …

God bless
john

*The tree of the knowledge of good and evil perhaps? =)

The mother of all marketplaces

There are two places in Lichinga where EVERYONE hangs out. Firstly, the airport (on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays anyway). The only place which is crowded everyday, however, are the massive Lichinga markets. Despite Lichinga having a tiny fraction of the population of the capital, Maputo, its markets are much bigger, and wilder. Here’s a quick visual tour of that it’s like, what’s on sale (both on the stands and modeled by people), and some random murmurings ...

1. GENERAL VIBE

First of all, it is incredibly huge and crowded. This doesn’t really describe how big it is …



And whilst there is no room for trolleys, there are some inventive ways of transport …



… And the colours are awesome!




2. SHIRTS ON SALE

There are heaps of interesting, multicultural shirts! From the quasi-American (the Africans are not quite as good at piracy as their Asian cousins … yet!)



... not to mention some APPALLING shirts - even $2 was not enough to lure me to these ...



… but there were just plain weird sarongs on sale (lots of women wear sarongs here). Here is a sarong with a rather disturbing picture of the Twin Towers …!?!



A more familiar sight however, awaited me with one particular shirt walking around …




3. THE PEOPLE

There’s a lot of love going on the market (and in Lichinga in general). On a side note, each morning I walked past a school, where heaps of kids played soccer. Often there were boys huddled together, chatting and giving each other massages!



But whilst the market is incredibly crowded with many people – only some are selling, with most doing nothing (like these guys playing checkers).



The reason? The formal unemployment rate here (and across Africa, actually) is extraordinarily high – estimated at around 90%?! – which is not hard to believe when you see it with your own eyes. Particularly in cities like Lichinga, where not everyone has their own farm, very few people have jobs, many relying on the occasional pay day and the few people in the family circle (of 30-40 cousins and uncles and aunties) who happen to have jobs at that moment. (On a side note, even those who do have jobs have typically inactive ones - for example, literally standing around for 9 hours a day watching a gate, etc)

This makes me feel really strange. On the one hand, I feel desperately sorry for them – they are the victims of being part of the only continent in the world to have grown poorer over the past three decades. On the other hand – I feel annoyed at them. CAN’T YOU GUYS DO SOME WORK? HAVE SOME AMBITION? HAVE SOME DRIVE TO DO SOMETHING DIFFERENT? I know handouts are not the answer for these people, where every day is a weekend day.

So easy for me to say, to criticize. And – for once! – I am genuinely doing something about it. But, if anything, as I’ve seen their plight with my own eyes, I’ve grown more aware of the difficulty of the challenge and less compassionate.

Weird huh? Not what I expected …!

Blessings,
john