Mozambique Summer Camp

Some of us have stories about being dropped off at summer camp, that moment when sheer and utter loneliness hits.   I never had that experience but I now know the feeling.  Last week, a Peace Corps driver dropped me off at my new site, where I will live for the next two years.  He helped to unload my things onto the front porch.  Before I could even unlock the door, he hopped back into the car and drove away down the narrow sandy road. 

Doubt raced throughout my body; my heart racing and my bowels twisting.  I tried to pretend that this was all normal, that this was just where I wanted to be and just what I wanted to be doing.  I had lived with a host family for the eleven weeks of training and was more than ready to be on my own.  I brought my things inside my mud house and placed them in the middle of the floor.

The house had been occupied by a former Peace Corps Volunteer who had brightened up the place by painting the walls.  There was a wooden chair, table and a bedframe without a mattress.  Setting up house would require more than I had anticipated.

I had heard that “The No.1 Supermarket” was having its grand opening.  (Yes, shops here really do have these kinds of names. While  Alexander McCall Smith wrote an entertaining series, “The No.1 Ladies Detective Agency”, the title is credited more to actuality than creativity.)   My mission was to stock up on supplies.  Without refrigeration and owning only a one-unit hot plate, I had to reconfigure my diet, cooking and food storage strategies. 

List in hand I bounced out of my small rural town in the local chappa (mini vans meant for twelve to fourteen passengers that take on thirty).  Arriving to Quelimane, I hailed down a bike taxi and requested in my broken Portuguese to head directly to The No. 1 Supermarket.  Quickly we joined a parade of bike taxis, all heading to the grand opening. I knew the place at once, festooned in plastic banners and balloons.

Immediately upon entering the store I personally confirmed the store name as most appropriate.  Having not seen a store in the past three months that sold more than matches, Kotex, single packets of detergent and cans of tuna fish, I was mesmerized.  Any item ever desired was available.  I started my foraging. 

The first aisles were filled with packaged and canned Chinese food.  Curiosity got the better of me so I grabbed a few unidentifiable items. The refrigerated section was a big tease, but rather than avoiding it completely, I did a quick scan for future reference.  Next came boxed, canned and packaged foods.  Pastas, crackers, a few jars of condiments and a small can of coffee-flavored chicory beverage rounded out my food pyramid.

Stuffing Doritos and coconut cream cookies into my mouth, I rounded the corner.   My eyes glazed over at the sheer multitude of cheap plastic multi-colored Chinese-made products crammed into the shelves.   Most of these products would break at the mere thought of use and I would undoubtedly be purchasing them again in just a few months time.  Quality and safety aside, I found myself considering color schemes and which color had less toxicity.   I decided upon the earthy tones.  Plastic spoons, graters, strainers and containers were heaped atop my cart.  My longing for all things plastic sated, I moved on to small appliances.

There, mid-way down the aisle, at waist level, was the sparkling gem of my dreams: a three -burner gas stove top unit, with fake chrome trim and a lightening bolt painted across the top.   This really was the No. 1 Supermarket, I thought.  I grabbed a boxed unit dreaming of all of the future meals in my mud hut.   In total glee I skated by the fans, grabbing a standing unit with one arm.  I slid into the check-out line.  Mission accomplished.

Almost. 

 I now had to get these items back to my mud house.  No small feat but I got it done.   I hired two bike taxis.  Holding my fan in one arm, my back-pack bulging with loot, I hoped that the other taxi wouldn’t take off, absconding with my precious stove and plastic ware.  It all made it.  I made it, too and am no longer feeling like I’ve been abandoned at summer camp.

PS  It is a month after writing this story and I have yet to find and purchase a propane gas tank for my stove, but I think I am getting closer to solving this challenge!  While I can't use the stove, it looks great on my counter.