Lovin' Mozambique

Tweet

One of our favorite bloggers is African Kelli, who lives in the US but has spent some time in Mozambique. And she is guest posting for us today, reminding us of all the reasons we're missing Mozambique!

---------------
The first time I traveled to Mozambique, I was 23, greener than a new shoot of bamboo and completely unprepared for what faced me stepping off the tiny 12-seater plane from Johannesburg.

I'd traveled for 48 hours to arrive in Beira, leaving my home in Phoenix, Arizona to work on a new public health project in rural Mozambican villages. My employer -- a small international health nonprofit -- was interested in establishing community-based health projects to improve the staggering HIV, cholera and malaria statistics.

At the time, Mozambique had one of the shortest lifespans internationally -- just 37 years. I am afraid today it isn't much better. However, the work I was able to do during my five years of managing the project made a slight dent in the overwhelming tide of disease and despair.

During these years, I traveled back and forth from Phoenix to Beira half a dozen times, making great friendships and strides in the process. Our small health projects fanned out to 11 villages near Beira -- the largest port city in Mozambique.

Village life is simple, sweet and unfortunatley today -- one of complete and total chaos due to disease and poverty. Mozambicans are some the kindnest folk in the world. It is not uncommon to see a young woman with a new baby wrapped in a capulana on her back, in the middle of a rice filed hoing her crops and signing along to herself. Children chase after foreigners, fueled by curiosity and happiness. Folks tend to smile more than not and just about everyone wanted to shake my hand, ask me what I was doing there and understand where I'd come from.

We'd partnered with another NGO to make our projects work and be more efficient. In this process, we helped train more than 150 activistas -- or health promoters -- to go into their communities and speak about HIV, cholera and malaria prevention and treatment. Within this time, we saw a reduction of malaria and a 60% drop in cholera. Simple steps in public health make a huge difference. Teaching folks to sleep under mosquito nets and the cause of malaria made many more tuck themselves and their children under the protective netting each evening. Emphasizing the importance of latrine and soap use to protect the water table and to prevent cholera completely changed behaviors. "Night soil" became less of an issue and children were not being rushed to overflowing clinics in the final and messy stages of cholera infection.

HIV continues to rage through Mozambique. The women I worked with rarely had the option of deciding who they would have sex with. Instead, men dominate and monogamy is not common in village life. However, more and more folk are becoming familiar with HIV and with the life-extending antiretrovirals.

Bill Gates is an amazing man for a variety of reasons, but he has my forever admiration for bringing these expensive and complicated drug regimens to Mozambique. Not only does the Gates Foundation fund GATVS -- HIV clinics -- but they also pay for all antiretrovirals for those willing to take the drugs. These drugs are helping pregnant women keep the virus from their unborn children. They are providing an additional 20 years of life to those willing to stick with the routine. They are not a cure, but they are a Bandaid so this generation can be productive and can raise their children to be disease-free. They provide hope for the future of Mozambique and many African countries.

When I am in Moz, I am more alive. It is hard to put to paper the rush of emotions; I feel connected to my faith with every breath. I feel incredibly and stupidly lucky and grateful for the life I've been given. I feel overwhelmed by poverty and enlightened by the cheerful screams of children running on a soccer field. I feel love and optimism for the orphans of Mozambique. I feel exhausted and embarrassed when I return home. Nothing prepares you for returning to American life -- with its incredible luxuries and extravagance -- when you've spent 6 weeks spending every evening in an orphanage with children clinging to life.

After my trip this summer, I accepted a new position at a different NGO in Phoenix and don't have any immediate plans of returning to Moz. That said, I can easily see myself returning the moment international adoption is allowed. I love that country for its promise and hate it for its corruption. I want the very best for Mozambique and hope to continue my relationship one way or another.

I am incredibly lucky and truly blessed for the opportunities I've been given to travel and work with the poor. Nothing in life is more gratifying.

Flashes of Farewell

Tweet

We are having a breezy balmy day here in the Cape... I went to church this morning and made friends in my class. After class I got into the manger with the baby doll that is pretend baby Jesus.

Then Mommy & Daddy had this funny idea that I would sit still through church. Not me! So they got lots of exercise running after me. Though during the children's story I got to walk up front all by myself. Daddy finally came after me when I disappeared for a little bit, but I was just inspecting the textures of the wall up front.

Mommy's been collecting tidbits of memories from our last few days in Mozambique. Here are some of those memories...

1. Pondering star-studded skies through coconut palm fronds.
2. Watching our own personal fireworks display as a big transformer blew and burned.
3. Getting ready for bed by flashlight.
4. Cold baths/showers.
5. Fresh fried doughnuts outside Shoprite.
6. MCel vendors in yellow vests jumping in front of our car as we drive.
7. Mango juice dripping all over my clothes.
8. Living out of suitcases.
9. Bartering for unnecessary batiks from street vendors while eating pizza at Mimmo's.
10. Watching Groban leaving the yard to go back to his owner - with his head high and tail wagging.
11. A last swim in the pool.
12. Ignoring the chaos while listening to my MP3 player.
13. Hiding behind packing boxes and walking through mazes everywhere.
14. Trying to find stuff that had been accidentally packed away in boxes.
15. Playing with Grandma & Auntie Susan and my cousins while Mommy and Daddy are busy.
16. Playing Barbies with my cousins while ignoring the chaos all around.
17. Saying goodbye and haggling over pay with Ms. Cathrine and Ms. Precious for the last time.
18. Police trying to wave us over after running a yellow light on the way to the airport - Daddy just shook his head at him and kept driving.
19. Sleeping in the car at the airport loading zone while Daddy got our baggage checked in, and then almost getting ticketed for being too long in the loading zone.
20. Paying $250 for excess baggage since South African Airways didn't want to honor our British Airways ticket baggage limits.
21. Learning to fasten my seatbelt on the plane - over and over and over.
22. Learning to butter my bread on the plane.
23. Practicing my new jumping skills on the plane. (That wasn't turbulence, folks...)
24. Eating chips with my new (boy) friend on the plane.
25. Watching South African TV.
26. Internet/Barney withdrawal symptoms.
27. Making the transition from buying grapes for outrageous prices to buying mangos for outrageous prices. We are gorging on grapes right now in the Cape.

Wordful Wednesday

Tweet

Esmé's Mommy here.

Today's posts are long. I won't apologize for that.

I promised the story behind the story today - it was supposed to be a story of an AIDS orphan center that we visited last Friday. I'll get there.

But first I have to share yesterday's story.

Last year we loaned $40 to a Maranatha worker who needed to pay for his little one's coffin. Yesterday my husband found out this same worker had a baby who was dying. Determined to do something, he took the baby to Sommerschield Clinic, one of the best medical facilities in Maputo.

The baby is 14 months old, but only weighs 13 pounds. Developmentally normal, just small and sickly. He started out healthy, but at about 3 months of age his growth slowed down. Lately he has been throwing up whatever he manages to eat.

Diagnosis? Probably HIV/AIDS. We're running a test to confirm, but because of the baby's age, it has to be done in South Africa. His mother is HIV positive, so the doctor's suspicion is that he was born HIV negative, but contracted HIV during the first two months when he was breastfeeding.

If that's the case, this sweet baby boy is dying. Because of his age, we're told the available AIDS medications are of no use to him. We're crying here. The statistics are no longer just statistics.

Backtrack to Friday. In late August, Maranatha was approached by a Mozambican gentleman, Mr. Macamo, about drilling a well for his organization, AACOSIDA (the direct translation is "Association of Friends of Children Orphaned by AIDS," or something like that). That well has now been drilled at their orphan center, and on Friday several of us went there to deliver used clothing for the children there. You can see many of the photos from this trip in our Wordless Wednesday post, and it also inspired Monday's story.

Mr. Macamo and his wife decided to foster some children from their church who had been orphaned by AIDS. Many church members pitched in to help. This got the couple thinking. There are so many others who could use help, and the government and expat charities can't do it all. How about organizing local villagers and getting local businesses to donate to assisting these orphans?

The organization now has 50 volunteer members. They've acquired 10 hectares of land - 9 being used for growing maize, potatoes, tomatoes, onions, and cabbages for distribution. And they've built a center on the remaining hectare, which is still very much unfinished but already in use as a distribution and feeding center.

Their statistics indicate that they are helping 2,059 orphans. Most live with older brothers and sisters, cousins or extended relatives, and 624 have been placed with "substitute" families. These families are providing housing and care, but most are unable to provide much in the way of food and other material goods.

Mr. Macamo has not asked us for money. As he puts it, "Money just complicates things." At one stage the organization attempted to assist the families fostering the orphans with cash, but quickly realized that the cash wasn't always used as intended. But he does approach organizations and people to help with goods.

When we arrived on Friday during school hours, there were over 60 children getting lunch. A few of them were obviously sick and not feeling well, but for the most part they looked healthy and well-fed.

Here are a couple of photos of Esmé making friends and teaching them how to high-five!

Wordless Wednesday

Tweet

The faces of AIDS orphans - the photos behind the story...

Ghosts of Mozambique

Tweet

I glance through the doorway of the dimly lit hut, observing her shallow breathing as she sleeps on her floor mat. Her head is covered with crusted sores, hair falling out in patches. A ghost of who she once was.

Turning back to the courtyard, my eyes adjust to the bright sunlight. Our brothers toddle in the dust among the chickens and goats, giggling and discovering stones. I half-smile at the sight and then check the position of the sun. Soon a group of neighbor kids will be rushing by, squealing and chattering and gossiping and playing pranks, as usual. And I'll try to wake Anna so we can join them.

Normally I would be in school right now, but Anna was feeling too weak to go this morning, and I decided to stay with her. Anna is my best friend.

We learned to walk and talk together while our mothers carried water and cooked over charcoal fires and scrubbed clothes together. When our baby brothers were born, we quickly mastered the art of carrying them on our backs as we played.

Then Anna's mother and father both got sick and died. She and her brother moved in with us. We learned how to cook and clean for ourselves when my mother got sick, too. Soon my mother was gone, and my father died not long after.

Some neighbors from church offered us a spot on the floor of their hut to sleep. The lady was happy for our help with the housework, but she soon made it clear that there was barely enough food for her own family to eat. Anna and I snuck portions from the cooking pots for our brothers. We climbed mango trees for green mangos, checked out trash heaps, and begged food wherever we could.

Then a man came by and told us about a center opening up for AIDS orphans, where they would provide food every day for lunch! We ran to the site and found men working on an unfinished cement block building. Some of the village ladies there who knew us signed us up on their roster and told us to come back the next day after school for a meal.

So we've been going there every day. We sing songs and pray. They serve soup and bread and fortified pap. Some days they give away used clothing or school supplies. And so we survive, unless AIDS takes us away.

I think Anna will die, just like our parents have. Many of our friends at the AIDS orphan center are sick, and some have died already. I've been watching both of our brothers by myself, and I think my brother is getting sick, too.

I'm one of the lucky ones. I don't have any symptoms. Since the orphan center has opened, I've been feeling stronger and more energetic.

And I wonder why. Why me? Why not Anna? Why not my mother? What am I supposed to contribute to this world?

The group of chattering orphans comes by our hut. They call for Anna and me. I quickly rouse her, helping her up and staying close by to support her. If she can get some food today, she will feel better. For a little while. Our brothers toddle behind, some of the other kids prodding them in the right direction when they get distracted.

At the center, we sit in orderly rows as the village ladies start the songs. I look solemnly at the cold, unfinished walls surrounding us, at the other orphans. This room is haunted, filled with memories of lost fathers and mothers, broken homes and wounded hearts.

Filled with the ghosts of Mozambique.

---------------
This post has been submitted to Scribbit's Write Away contest. The characters are fictitious, but based on reality. Come back on Wednesday for the story behind the story in our Wordless and Wordful Wednesday posts.

Meet Mavinga

Tweet

This is my new friend, Mavinga. He is 4 years old. He came to work today with his daddy, Mr. Antonio, who is our gardener. He likes to sweep, just like I do!




Mavinga's mommy died several weeks ago, so his daddy brought him here to the city with him. I would miss my mommy if she died.

Mommy says that Mozambique has one of the lowest life expectancies in the world - just over 40 years. That means there are LOTS of children here missing either one or both parents.

Thursday 13 - Things We Miss

Tweet

Here is a list of 13 things we miss while living in Mozambique:

1. Taco Bell. At least that means less fast food on our waistline.


2. Chocolate Chips. They are itty bitty and come in itty bitty bags for outrageous prices, if you can find them at all here. But Mommy says it's a little early to start my chocolate addiction now, anyways.


3. Berries. Strawberries, blueberries, blackberries, raspberries, cherries. Well, just give us 3 months and we'll be in mango season again, so the lack of berries will be less painful.


4. Produce. Noticing a food trend here? We miss the ability to find just about any kind of produce at the grocery store. There were no bananas yesterday - and there are plenty of bananas in this country. Often there is no lettuce. Or no onions. Or something else very basic. And those cool recipes with exotic produce? No chance of trying those. At least we don't have to stress over whether we're buying local or not.


5. Michaels (or other craft stores). We've got to look long and hard to find simple things - still haven't found tempera paints here yet. It does make us more creative, and before we throw away trash, we think, "Can we make something out of this?"


6. Garage Sales and 2nd Hand Stores. We miss hunting for barely used books, craft materials, educational toys, dressup costumes, etc. It does cut down on clutter, though.


7. Smooth Roads. The potholes here are a bit much, not to mention the crazy drivers. It keeps Mommy from driving just for the joy of it, though, - and that conserves fuel (and our pocketbooks).


8. Reasonable Cell Phone Companies. Argue with this one if you will, but how many of you have had a phone company turn off all your phones for a bogus $35,000 phone bill? And they insist it's your responsibility that they have no record of your request to cancel the stolen phone's card and that someone forged letters to acquire 8 new phones on your account? At least the company reps don't speak English, so Mommy doesn't have to be the one to deal with them.


9. Clean Roads and Beaches. The roads here are completely littered with trash. There are periodic little "official" dumps on the sides of the road, and some smaller roads are overtaken by the dumps. People here are great at sorting through and reusing that trash, though, which has got to be good for the environment in some way.


10. TV. Well, we could pay to get cable, but choose not to. And too much TV is bad for little developing minds, they say. Plus we've got Totlol.com . . .


11. Sense of Security. Maybe it's a false sense, but there's a feeling of relief upon arriving in the US that not everyone is out to grab your purse/diaper bag or hijack your car. We are reminded here that God is our only sure security, though.


12. Libraries. Can't come up with any positive spins on this one.


13. Gyms. With day care centers. Or safe walking/jogging trails. No positive spins on this one, either. Well, we do have a pool that will be really nice once hot weather kicks in.

And we do get to meet lots of cool people here, and while we don't like saying goodbye, we'd have to do some of that no matter where we lived. Tuesday we had a farewell dinner for George and Jack, who volunteered for a month on our well project.

And here are the beautiful African place settings my friend K and her family put together for the dinner. They made animal shapes from black "play dough" (using charcoal) for each spot. And they had candles, and a punch bowl, and hibiscus flowers, and everything. The African animal place mats were gifted to the departing men at the end of the dinner. This was my first dinner with my very own place setting!

Thursday 13 - Growin' Up in Mozambique

Tweet

Esmé’s Mommy here.
Esmé had an “accident” late this afternoon on our bed that went all the way through the duvet, pillow, sheets, and mattress. Let that be a lesson to anyone who thinks it is cute when their babies escape during diaper changing sessions.
And of course when the duvet was in the washing machine, something weird happened and the water overflowed all over the garage. So now I’m waiting for the duvet to dry, and I don’t want to think about the garage.
Let’s think about good things, instead. The dog still has not eaten the bunnies! He literally salivates every time I let them out of their cage. And those things eat, let me tell you! I’m feeding them three times a day and they don’t leave a drop, a scrap, in their cage. Why didn’t anyone tell me this before?
On to Thursday Thirteen – how you know you’re a 15-month-old American bebe growin’ up in Mozambique.

1. You fall asleep while riding on the potholed roads and wake up on the smooth tarmac. And you pray before every drive in the car – even just around the block.
2. Going to the doctor for shots is an all-day excursion across the border. And when you get funny bumps on you, you’re treated for both chicken pox and fly maggots.
3. You have to add pages to your passport before you’re 15 months old.
4. You spent your first Christmas at the beach eating sand.
5. You know the word “no” in four languages.
6. The first animal you REALLY saw in the wild was a giraffe. And one of your first words was "monkey." And you know the sound a monkey makes for "Old MacDonald."
7. Your first pet dog is a vicious looking Rottweiler mix watchdog with a reputation for biting (though never you, of course).
8. You complain about cold water in your bath, only to have Mommy tell you to be glad you didn’t have to carry that water 2 miles on your head.
9. The first fruits you ate were mango and papaya. And you never ate Cheerios until you were 13 months old. And when you don’t eat your food and your Mommy tells you she’s going to give your dessert to the starving children in Africa, she means it. Literally.
10. You sleep under a mosquito net. And you started using mosquito repellent long before you were “old enough.”
11. There is ALWAYS sunscreen in your diaper bag. All year long.
12. As far as you know, Shoprite is the only grocery store in the world. And you always check the ice cream before you buy it to make sure it hasn’t melted and been refrozen.
13. You know that frangipani blossoms are edible.

I was looking for something profound, like “You know what it means to share with those in need” or “You know how blessed you really are,” but at 15 months, I think those types of lessons still escape the little mind . . .
The best I could come up with is "You know it's just as much fun to play in the dirt and ant hills with the village kids as as it is to watch Sesame Street on the BIG screen TV with your rich buddies." And she DOES know that.

Thursday 13 - Blog Keepers

Tweet

Esme’s Mommy here.

I came across this post from African Kelli – one of my “keeper” bloggers. She just arrived in Mozambique on a short-term health project, and her experience so well describes the quandary, the dilemma, that is Mozambique. If you’re short on time, please read her post instead of mine today!

Yesterday was Independence Day here in Mozambique, so we celebrated with a potjie at my sister’s house around the block and down a ways. Here is a photo I snapped on the walk – just to give you a visual for Kelli’s blog post.

Sudden change of topic and on to my Thursday 13 – specifically for bloggers.

When I first figured out Google Reader back in March, I started subscribing to feeds at a crazy rate. I knew I was in trouble when I went on vacation for a month and had limited internet access. Within the first week, my inbox had 1000+ items in it. Now that I’ve been home a bit and started working through it, I’ve been unsubscribing from a few blogs. Not as many as I should, but a woman’s gotta start somewhere.

And it’s a TERRIBLE process. I feel like I’m saying goodbye to good friends, just so I can have a real life. Selfish, isn’t it?

I’m no SheSpeaks seminar speaker, but I’ve been analyzing what makes a blog a keeper and what annoys me, and thought my very amateur perspective might be interesting to some.

Trying to see the glass half full, I’ll start with the keepers. Next week we’ll do the (more exciting) pet peeves.

1. People I Know. This trumps all. If I know you personally, I’ll read your blog. Period. It makes my life more interesting if you’ve got the other things going for you, of course, and thankfully all my personal friends do!
2. Similarities. I like people who have common interests. In most cases, that means kids. I love mommy blogs! Ones with a spiritual emphasis and wholesome lifestyle are even better. And Africa-related blogs are awesome, too.
3. Human Tragedy. I find myself drawn to others’ stories of personal tragedy. I’m sure there’s a happy ending somewhere, so I keep coming back to read more.
4. Regular Posts. I need to feel a part of the blogger’s life. This means at least a post or two a week. More than one a day on a regular basis, though, and it gets overwhelming.
5. Comments and Replies. If I get a reply or a comment on my blog, it makes me feel like you’re listening. That means I’m more likely to listen to you!
6. Personal Stories. I want to feel a part of your life. The more stories, the better. Intimate details are cool – though not too MUCH information, please.
7. Jumping In. I like blogs where I don’t have to go back to the beginning to figure out what’s going on. Photos help with this, as well as details on the sidebar. (Gotta work on my blog in this area – I know . . .)
8. Giveaways. I’m a sucker for these, especially where all ya gotta do is comment! Shameful, but true. Though I haven’t been winning anything . . .
9. Good Writing. That had to be on the list somewhere, right?
10. Humor. I prefer writers who don’t take themselves too seriously. Or ones who thoughtfully leave a smile on your face.
11. Lessons and Hints. If I can walk away feeling challenged to change or having learned something meaningful, I’ll read you.
12. Easy Reading. I have an MBA and can certainly read at college level, but when I’m speed reading through 101 posts, I prefer the eighth-grade level. Short sentences and paragraphs work for me. Big words that challenge my ever-shrinking mommy vocabulary are splendiferous, though.
13. Appropriate Use of Photos. Run-on blogs with no photos get tiresome. Related photos keep my attention. On the flip side, please give me some words to provide context to those photos.

So that’s what works for me. Oh shoot, it’s not Wednesday, is it?

Yeah, my own blog needs lots of work. I’m learning!

Mozambican Heavens

Tweet

As daylight breaks, he pedals his bike through the dusty village streets, rushing to get to work by 7 a.m.

Not quite 20, still a teenager, he moved to the city several months ago to further his education. He had brothers here; a place to stay. But it quickly became evident that his sisters-in-law did not want another mouth to feed. So he moved out and got a job at my husband’s metal shop, putting together steel structures for churches and schools.

The lunch provided at work is his one meal of the day. When the shop closes at 4:30, he washes himself in the stagnant rainwater pond and pedals again, this time to class. At midnight, he finally arrives home, only to start the cycle again in five hours.

He’s been investing his hard-earned $100/month. Realizing the chapa (African taxi) was taking a huge chunk of his pay, he bought the bicycle. He purchased a variety of locks and now sells locks during his free time on the weekends. And he borrowed funds from us to buy a piece of property, slowly acquiring materials to build a house one of these days.

He’s going places - reaching for the sky.

----------------------------------------

She knocks determinedly on our metal gate at least once a week, demanding an audience. She knows her persistence will pay off here.

She speaks no English, and we speak no Portuguese. But she manages to get across her message. Some days she needs money. Her teenage daughter needs school books. She needs medicine for malaria. Other days she brings evidence of how she’s spent the money: pharmacy receipts; her daughter’s test scores.

We might give her an odd job, we might give her school supplies, or we might just give her money. She always leaves with what she needs. And she will come back again, for her daughter’s sake.

Through her daughter, she’s going places – reaching for the sky.

----------------------------------------

By western standards, she looks much older than her 30-something years, but in this country with a life expectancy of 42 years, she IS one of the elderly.

Her four-year-old son had meningitis. And he needs medical treatment. And that costs money. And she doesn’t have any.

So she’s looking for work as an empregada (maid). She doesn’t have the experience, skills, or references, but is willing to do anything. ANYTHING.

It may be hard to see, but she’s going places – reaching for the sky.

----------------------------------------

“Ah, but a man’s reach should exceed his grasp -- or what’s a heaven for?”
- Robert Browning

----------------------------------------

This post has been entered into Scribbit’s Write-Away contest.

Back Home!

Tweet

We are safely back home in Mozambique! We got back last Tuesday, but our internet wasn't working. Repeat - This is Africa! Never mind that it costs $140/month.

Anyway, I got lots to catch you up on, but Mommy has lots of work she needs to get done now that internet is working again, so I'll check in with you later - maybe in the middle of the night or something. More about jetlag later!

Causes

Tweet

Esme's Mommy again:

There’s a blog festering in my head about why life is so much more comfortable in the US than in Mozambique, even though we have a spacious house there with AC, a house cleaner, and a gardener. It hasn’t come together yet, though, so I thought I’d mention a recent irritation of mine here in the US.

It seems like every day on the news there is something new for us to panic about. This week I’ve heard about the toxicity of flame-retardant sprays, the danger of using hard plastic water bottles, and the fact that government spending on cancer research has stayed flat in the past year or so.

You know, this stuff is so NOT news in Mozambique. When people are struggling to come up with food for the next day, transporting water in 25 gallon jugs miles by donkey cart (or more frequently human cart), and we have a cholera tent just around the block from our house, it’s hard for me to care what kind of plastic my baby’s water is bottled in. And when we’re loaning people $40 to bury their babies for NO GOOD REASON, I wish we could spend a little more on those diseases that cause the majority of deaths in this world.

Per UNICEF, in Mozambique the under-5 mortality rate is 138 per thousand. Forty percent of children under age five suffer from stunting as a result of malnutrition. 1.5 million children are orphans. Life expectancy is 42 years.

Can we not work on solving world hunger first? Infant mortality? Malaria and AIDS?

OK, off my soapbox. I know every worthy cause needs its advocates, and it IS possible to support more than one. And ultimately, maybe everything is interconnected – is the hard plastic letting off pollutants that contribute to catastrophes such as earthquakes that kill hundreds of thousands? I don’t mean to minimize the tragedies of infertility, terminal cancer, and the like that we see so often in the US. And I should also add that infant mortality has dropped significantly in Mozambique over the past 15 years, though life expectancy is still low.

Speaking of causes, we just watched the movie Amazing Grace, which was an excellent portrayal of the abolitionist cause. A good reminder that it may take years of seemingly fruitless advocacy before a change takes place, but without that advocacy, the change would never happen. Baby steps!

Videos Starring . . . Me!

Tweet

Today I worked with Mommy on getting some videos on MySpace so my grandpas and grandmas and everyone we left behind can see some of my cool tricks. Since they can't see me in person, I guess that's the next best thing, but I wish I could see them too.

We also put Selah's "You Raise Me Up" music video on the site. Daddy saw this when he and Mommy were deciding to come to Mozambique, and it made a big impact on their decision. Take a look and you'll see why. I like it too, since Mommy played Selah music in the middle of the night when she was walking me those first few sleepless weeks of my life.

Hola from Mozambique!

Tweet

I am FOUR months old today, and I think it's about time to get started blogging. Mommy will have to help me type, of course - I can hit the mouse pretty good (especially when Mommy's reading the online books too slow and I want to move to the next page), but my spelling is not so good yet.

So, where do I start? Well, who am I? We sing in the mirror every morning: "Who am I? I am Esme'. I am special to Jesus." I really like mirrors - sometimes they make me giggle. And then Mommy and Daddy giggle, too. Today Mommy and I had several giggle sessions; they were so much fun Mommy is going to add them to my daily checklist. We'll have to talk about the daily checklist later.

But I digress. Back to who I am. I was born April 3, 2007 at 1:06 a.m. in Roseburg, Oregon, and I weighed 7 lb 7 oz. My parents' names are Mommy and Daddy, and they are the BEST parents in the WORLD. (I have to say that, since I would have a hard time making a living right now if I got kicked out of the house.) They are also VERY OLD. Daddy just turned 38!

Just before I turned 6 weeks old, we got on a plane and started flying to South Africa. It was a LONG trip, but I did really well, and only one plane was delayed while Mommy changed my VERY POOPY diaper. She calls me a world class traveler.

After spending a few days with Daddy's family there, we flew to Maputo in Mozambique, where we live now. We are working with Maranatha on building 1,000 churches here, and I am the youngest worker. If you want to keep tabs on this project, check out Auntie Susan's blog.
And now, a lifetime later, I am much bigger. Last week at 16 weeks, I weighed 16 lb 12 oz (7.6 kg).

Well, I have lots more to say, but it is past my bedtime now, so check in again later!