housewarming

Have you ever seen a goat slaughtered, cut up in the open air, and become meat stew? Sorry, I don’t mean to be graphic, so I will stop there and refrain from posting photos. Needless to say, it was a rather gory but eye-opening sight, although I wouldn’t particularly care to watch again.

My housewarming or inauguração two weeks ago generally followed Mozambican tradition. Colleagues said that I needed to throw a party with at least two cabritos (goats), nshima (cornmeal), five cases of beer and two cases of soda – all of which should serve around 40 people. Starting at 8:00 in the morning, my colleague Dona F and my empregada (house helper) M did all the cooking outside over a fire. The stew was amazing, with really tender meat and a garlic & tomato sauce that soaked into the nshima with relish. It turns out there were two pots of stew – one for the regular meat, the other with the parts many people don’t like. Namely, the head, intestines, and hooves – all intact. I didn’t eat from that pot. I did watch, however, a colleague scoop out with his hand some goat brains straight from the skull, which traditionally should go to the eldest member of the party.

Some of my neighbors also joined in the festivities, after I went over to invite them in my broken Portuguese & Xangaan. I was glad they came – it gave me a chance to let them know that they are welcome to come by anytime to visit. I really love how Africans feel so comfortable just dropping in to visit with their neighbors. During the past six years of living in NYC, I probably exchanged less than 100 words total with my neighbors, all of which in the context of forced elevator conversations. I thought my neighbors were a bit standoffish, but I certainly can’t blame them for not talking to me more – I’m as guilty of setting up such walls around my life as any other stereotypical New Yorker.

Have my mentality and attitude changed just because I now live in Africa? I’m not sure yet. I have always wanted to be more of a neighborly person, but I have a hard time being “vulnerable” with people in general. (Okay, I admit blogging doesn’t exactly demonstrate a fear of being open, but I’m still not all too comfortable posting.) I moved to Mozambique with the hope that I would get over my issues with vulnerability and somehow become a part of the “community” in my neighborhood, even though I am a muzungu or foreigner. I can’t hide any of the obvious differences that exist between me and my Mozambican neighbors, particularly when it comes to language, cultural background, and of course money. But, there probably are commonalities that also exist between us that we are not yet aware of (couldn’t the fact that we’re all human be enough?), and I’m counting on these to surface and be the basis for new friendships. I feel that it will be slow-going, but I’m hopeful.