Day 1

Tonight I have arrived. I am in my bedroom, in my Mocambican house. The first thing that I did was grab my bacia and head out to the water pump to collect water for my bath tomorrow morning. I met with some kids in front of my house who practically begged to help me, so I followed them across the street, through the grounds of the secondary school where I’ll be teaching in a month, and down a red dirt hill to the water pump. The view – oh my god, I live in paradise. Canico houses down the hill that Ile sits on into an expanse of green, and on the horizon you can see the mountains of Gurue.
My house. The walls are concrete and gray; paint is expensive, but I’m going to splurge. The ceiling is zinc sheeting, held up by wood beams. There is a bedroom, three small rooms, and a tiny potential bathroom coming off of the living space. One of the small rooms will be a kitchen some day soon. I should be getting a toilet in the next few days.
I share the house with a few roaches, several concrete-coloured lizards, and I think I might’ve seen a rat tail flicker on one of the beams in the corner of my room. Oddly enough, I find the roaches comforting. There is one in the corner of my room near the door, hanging out on the wall. His told me that his name is Ralph, and when I’m away he plans to throw a huge party. A little while ago, when I was eating my dinner of a Toblerone bar that my mum sent in a package, he turned 180 degrees to face the floor and seemed to be watching me from then on. I don’t have a trash pit yet, so I’m not sure where a safe place would be to dispose of the wrapper so Ralph doesn’t invite his friends over sooner.
A pretty sizeable lizard crawled up my wall a few seconds ago. For the last few days, I stayed with the director of my school in his house, and I told Mussa, his nephew – who is an 18-year-old version of Ergilio, that lizards were good luck. He didn’t believe me. I am in love with my director and his family; they’ve been feeding me, and giving me bath water and entertainment for the last few days. It was an extension of my host family stay.
My sort-of-neighbor just came by with beers to christen my house. Although every neuron in my brain fired “Do not let him in, you crazy-woman,” I opened my door. And, he came in, with his Italian beer, and proceeded to tell me that American women are simpatico and beautiful, and that I was excellent. I just learned number one of living by yourself in a foreign country; do not let men force themselves into your home after dark. I think I did a pretty good job of acting oblivious.
I’m not really sure how to work this. In this culture, the men are a lot more forward than in the States, and being an American – apparently – has a certain mystique. I think the best solution would be to have a husband. Darn… I missed that boat. I think when my novelty wears off I’ll be less appealing. Also, when my roommates return. I am glad to be getting roommates. I’m enjoying the solitude and independence now, but the security of roommates (and company, I’m sure, after a week alone like this) is going to make me feel much more comfortable. Plus, I hear they’re good people.