veronica just walked in and ceremoniously dropped 200 mets into her 1000 met loan envelope. she is way ahead of schedule and will have her loan paid off in no time. i don’t know who is more proud.
this past week, amidst the rats and snake, i was up in the middle of the night. earlier that day zito had asked me for money. he saw that i had made copies of their homework assignments and he wanted copies of his documents. this whole “documents” thing is a constant concern. i just “bought” m’faume’s (the little dutton boy) and now zito is wanting copies of his. the whole system annoys me and sounds rather oppressive if you ask me. you have to have these documents on your person at all times or else you are thrown in jail. sounds corrupt and like the government is paranoid. i digress. zito wants copies of his documents. i think it is a front for something else. i tell him i had the copies made in town and that they are 1.5 mets. (28 mets=$1USD). he tells me he doesn’t have it. i believe him. i know he came here to attend our bible school and he lives with family here. i know that just a few years ago the majority of this nation had never even seen currency and that this economy is different than the one i know. i know he depends on family for shelter and for food. his cousin, Paul was one of my students. he now sells cement with a guy from Bangladesh. i know he lives with Paul and Paul shares his rice and beans that he buys from the money he makes. it is the African way, you share. it is one of the many beauty’s of this culture. but i am lying awake thinking, “he doesn’t even have 1 single meticais in his pocket? surely that cannot be”? i’m embarrassed to say how many mets i have on my person at all time. i horde money here because it can be hard to get out of the ATM and i get out the maximum i can each time (at $7 a transaction, thank you very much Bank of America). i hide it from myself all over my room. how does the boy walk around with not one met? it’s not just Zito, it’s everyone. it remains day to day survival here. concepts of savings don’t always work. if Paul has money he is obligated to share with Zito, so Paul can’t save. this is all discussed eloquently in the book African Friends and Money Matters. i recommend it if this sort of thing interests you. digressing again. awake thinking of Zito and his empty pockets and how he must have faith and trust on a bigger level than i can know. wondering how often he goes hungry or does he? wondering what i would do if i didn’t have a freezer to stash my prized possessions, Snickers candy bars. i get nervous when the pantry gets bare. and of course, i never have anything to wear. i could open a small pharmacy with my stash of medicines as well as a cosmetics store. selfish me. poor Zito. “God bless Zito”, i pray as i watch the rat dance along my rafters.
the following day i march to maintenance, as i have so many times before, and Iuculi knows what i want before i speak. he tells me he already has the cement and to wait. wait, wait, wait. it doesn’t bother me anymore. i am so good at waiting. i stand. i sit. i walk around. i sit. i stand. i dig through my bag. i jot down notes. i stand and sit and walk around some more. a guy arrives and we have a conversation about what needs to be done and within minutes i am riding on Gloria behind a motorcycle, carrying two men, one to drive and one to carry the bucket of cement and the ladder. the powdered cement is flying in the air and getting in my eyes. yet, i don’t mind because we are on a mission. he comes inside and i point to every hole in the ceiling with a bamboo stick, per his suggestion, and he slaps them with wet cement. cement goes everywhere but his assistant goes outside and brings back a flattened cardboard box to catch the debris and i am impressed. they patch holes and i beam. all i can think about is 8 hours uninterrupted sleep. i am so happy. i could hug his neck. but i don’t because that would be really inappropriate. even having him in my home alone is apparently not generally socially acceptable. so a big huge hug might give the wrong impression. i thank him profusely and fall asleep lying on my back and wake up just in time for afternoon class.
when i get there Zito walks in wearing a pretty white shell necklace. it is kinda like those ones surfer guys wear or those you get in those tacky beach shops at Panama City, but different. it is longer, not tight around the neck and the flat shells are all different shapes. it is quite pretty. i compliment him. he removes it and hands it to me and essentially tells me i can borrow it. i know he has a plan. i wear it during class and remove it to return to him when class is over. he triumphantly tells me he made it himself and that it is for sale. well, surprise, surprise. i knew where this was going all along. he made it for me. and it going to sell it to me for a good price. i am so proud of him i can barely contain myself. again, i want to hug his neck. i have lectured on this concept a lot, thinking outside the box and trying to be creative and look at the needs around us and to create a business around that need. he tells me how one of the visitors who had spoken in class the day before was wearing a certain necklace and how they had had a conversation about jewelry and local products. it apparently got Zito thinking about tourism and local products and he went to the beach and collected shells and made something beautiful and made himself 100 mets! i didn’t even bargain with the boy. i gave him what he asked for and applauded him for taking initiative and finding a way to make money. i am again, so so so incredibly proud.
i wore it on Sunday and my friend Marylou bought it right off my neck. so Zito’s jewelry is already in demand.
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