Child's Birthday Party: A Potential Landmine of Social Blunders

The kids were invited to a friend's birthday party the other Saturday. It was quite the ordeal for our three little kids ages four and under (not to mention their mommy and daddy). You may remember from a previous experience we posted that birthday parties in Mozambique are very different than in America. But like in America, the birthday parties can vary quite a bit depending on the individual's culture and values and what a "party" means to them. It was a privilege to share in celebrating our friend "Prescott's" birthday...and once again it was quite the experience!

The invitation said the party was at 3:00pm.

We arrived just after 4:00 pm (taking our cue from the last party!) and were still one of the first families to arrive. The party was held in the (small) apartment of the family and children and adults mingled and sat chair to chair in the living room and veranda (a few meter's square). A variety of loud music was playing from the stereo system when we arrived, and apparently in our honor, was turned up even louder when we entered the house.

By about 5:00pm the kids were soaked in sweat and getting restless from just sitting. (Incidentally, children don't typically play structured games at a Mozambican party--they just run around and entertain themselves). My attempts to correct any of my own boys' roudiness was promptly condemned by the surrounding adults with the typical Mozambican expression of "e crianca"--literally,"he's just a child" and with the meaning/implication "don't be so hard on him" and "let him do what he wants".

We finally gave the kids freedom to just run around the hallways of the apartment building with some of the other kids--it was much cooler out there than in the house even though it was a bit more difficult to keep track of them. I was pretty...um...bored...myself, to be honoest. And every time I offered to help with something I was given a shocked expression and told that no, I needed to just sit!

By about 6:00pm Stefan disappeared with Wesley and I found him a while later outside the apartment trying to get some fresh air. :). Soon after that the kids all sat down--filling the veranda, the living area, and the hallway--to await the food.

Finally I was allowed to help! We spent about 45 minutes serving food to all the kids--a banquet of typical Mozambican food--grilled chicken, fried potatoes, rice, xima, matapa, baked fish, cabbage salad, lettuce salad, potato salad and lots of fried batter-type apetizers. When the kids were finished eating, most of them were shooed out into the hallway while the adults finally all rushed to the food--and I mean literally rushed! An orderly line and taking turns at the food plate is not so much valued here. One lady offered to hold Wesley for me so I could get some food and I could tell she was getting frustrated that I wasn't forcing my way in there and that I was allowing others to push me out of the way.

At that point (around 7:00pm) there was still no end in sight. So after Stefan and I politely juggled a plate of food around the swarms of people while trying to keep track of our kids, I tried to figure out a way to politely excuse ourselves. You can sort of imagine at what point of melt-down our kids were in after spending three hours in a hot, packed, house with loud music! And there was not a single space in the house--bathroom included--that didn't seem to have bodies filling every square foot. So feeding Wesley, who was quite hungry, with any sort of peace and privacy was not an option. However, telling our hostess "the truth" wasn't going to translate accross the chasm of our two cultures. Leaving a party because your kids are tired, hot, and overstimulated just would not make sense to most Mozambicans. And the need to feed a baby with privacy and/or quiet is also just not understood.

Eventually I just thanked the hostess and told her we had to leave (no reasons given!) and she insisted that we could not leave without staying for the cutting of the cake. Seriously. That was not just a polite invitation to stay longer, it was a big huge hint to the apparently ignorant foreigner who had the audacity to suggest they leave before singing to the birthday boy! And who should appear on the scene at just that time? Prescott! The two-year old birthday boy who had just woken up after sleeping through the first four hours of his birthday party! So we stayed. And we sang. And ate some cake. And then wearily packed into the car and drove home around 7:30. We said lots of things on the way home like, "Wasn't that fun!" and "That was so nice that Prescott invited you to his birthday." I think we (Stefan and I) were mostly trying to brainwash ourselves.

Whew! Who knew attending a friend's birthday party could be such an ordeal and provide so many opportunities to commit huge social blunders?

Beautifully Expressive

(It seems forever since I've managed a post...have lots of material FOR a post...and yet no post. However, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to share a picture of Wesley that a friend recently took. )

Our little girl is nothing if not expressive! At seven months, despite being unable to talk, she somehow manages to remarkably and actively convey what she is feeling, wanting, and sometimes even thinking. She is opinionated, quirky, delightful...and the boys and I agree: absolutely beautiful.

And thanks, Grandma, for the advice to never shy from telling her so!

Mozambican Meal

The other day some ladies came over to our house to work with me to prepare a Mozambican dinner in honor of a new family that had arrived. It was a lot of fun to work with them (and a little bit of a stretch for me to turn over my kitchen to prepare food in the traditional way) and a really neat time of getting to know these ladies better.

On the menu of this very Mozambican meal was: grilled chicken seasoned in salt and garlic; oven-roasted fish with garlic, chicken bullion and lemon; a rice salad; "arroz novo com coco" (freshly harvested and pounded rice cooked in coconut milk); a lettuce salad and cabbage salad; "xima" (traditional African staple made from cooked white cornmeal); and "matapa" (made from greens, pounded peanuts, and coconut milk).

This meal took about 5 hours to prepare with the three of us working--and much of it had already been done up ahead (such as pounding the peanuts and rice). I had decided in advance to do my best to "let go" of my Western ideas about cooking and cleaning (and yes, even food poisoning) so that I could really learn from these ladies and enjoy our time together. I got down on the floor with them to grate the coconut, cut up the vegetables, and pound the garlic. I looked the other way when the same knife and board that were used to cut up the chicken were again used to make the salad (without being washed with soap or bleach!). And, well, some of the other things are best left unmentioned... The point is: the meal was delicious. No one got sick. And more importantly I had a really neat time growing in friendhip with these women and learning from them.

Dona Vera, recently widowed and without any children of her own, came over early to get a start on the meat. She was incredibly gracious with my own little ones running around and constantly pulling me away from the preparations.

Paula, a girl my own age, came over a bit later since she had to prepare an entire meal up ahead of time for her five children that she left at home. I asked her to teach me how to grate the coconut in the traditional Mozambican manner since we had to use three for the meal.

Cohen and Christian hung out drinking coconut water and snitching pieces of coconut for snack as they watched their Mommy learn a new skill. As for Paula--she laughed most of the time. And finally shook her head and took back the job saying that we would be here forever if she didn't finish up. Just for good measure, she mentioned out loud that her own (8 year old) daughter already knew how to grate a coconut.

I'm thinking Cohen and Christian like it better when I prepare food on the ground anyway. This way they don't have to hear my constant reminders to get their feet off the counter and stop messing.

Mts. Nairuco

This past weekend we got together with some of our team members who also live in Nampula. We went to a place called 'Montes Nairuco' that is about a half hour away from the city. It is a beautiful place that has camping options and little shelters with nearby grills. It was SO great to get away from the city for a bit and it was particularly nice to enjoy the outdoors on a cool day (as we are in the middle of our 'winter' here in Mozambique).




Christian decided that one of the guys was going to be his new friend.

He pretty much spent the afternoon with him. The poor guy didn't have much choice. Christian is quite loyal if he recieves any sort of positive affirmation.

Cohen and his friend spent much of the afternoon "fishing". I say "fishing" (in quotes) because all the bigger kids had the real fishing poles with fishing line and hooks, leaving Cohen and his friend a makeshift stick with a string and a wight on it.

However, they had a GREAT time pulling up all sorts of scum and plants and trash from the pond and exulted triumphantly over each and every catch.