Bex in Moz

Guest blogger: Eva

2011-09-10T11:20:00.005+02:00

what i did on my summer holiday

SLIDES!

ICE-CREAM!

PIZZA!

SWINGS!

MADELEINES!

GRANNY!

GRANDPA!

AVOS!

MY FAMILY!

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

The many happiness of the Chinese shop.

2011-07-19T10:49:00.005+02:00

The Chinese shops that have popped up over the last two years in Pemba have greatly improved my quality of life, selling, as they do, a fantastic range of cheap, useful and useless items. Most of all, they provide moments of unexpected levity. At Christmas, I bought the traditional pair of underpants for Paulo's stocking. This one came with blurb that promised, amongst other things, that these pants "give a man a direction". Today's offering, in a small green bottle: 'Sod milk'.

All other lettering in Chinese, so I remain unenlightened.

Guest blogger: Sebastian

2011-07-15T10:40:00.003+02:00

Hello Sebastian, what would you like to tell us about?

S: This is a picture I drew at school yesterday. It's a hedgehog.

Very nice! Why did you draw a hedgehog?

S: We read a story. Biff threw a ball, Floppy chased it. He found the hedgehog and pricked his nose.

And Floppy is...?

S: A dog, of course!

Of course. What do you like best about this picture?

S: His big nose. Hedgehogs have little teeth, like this. That's why I drew them. And teacher gave me twelve stars.

Well done, I love it!

Guest blogger: Joaquim

2011-07-12T11:36:00.004+02:00

Hi, it's me again. I've been doing lots of cool stuff and I want to tell you about it. First of all, I am a karate champion. I won two gold and a silver medal at the Pemba karate championships and they look soooo cool.

I took the medals to school the next day to show my friends, and now I've put them in my treasure box. The gold medals were for the juniors championship, I did a really good demonstration - I've been practising at home - and then I had to fight this mean little kid. He kicked me in the neck - which is against the rules - and made me cry, but I got up again and kept fighting and then won. We shook hands after the fight so it was OK. Sebastian, Eva, Mum and Pai were there to watch, and we had grilled chicken and chips to celebrate afterwards.

S: I love chicken and chips.

Then there was a cowboy party. Sebastian and I looked cool and dangerous. There was a horse, but I didn't get on, it was really big. Sebastian did though.

S: I wasn't scared.

Then there was another karate thing, a graduation this time, and our teacher was really tough on us and made us work really hard in the sun for hours. But I got my next belt.

S: I got a bit bored and took lots of photos, but we had more chicken and chips afterwards. I love chicken and chips.

And then, there was a fund-raiser at school, International Day. Everyone had to go dressed in a national costume. Sebastian chose French, Eva and Mum went Chinese, Pai wore a silly straw hat, and I was an English Country Gentleman and I won a prize: PIZZA AND A SOFT DRINK! Awesome! Mum also won a prize with her cupcakes, for the prettiest cake. I thought they were pretty delicious.

S: I liked my moustache.

Hmmm, that's about it. We're going on holiday in 10 days, which is soooo exciting. Sebastian and I are crossing the days off on the calendar. Pai and Mum seem to be quite excited too. Eva is too little to know.

S: It's MY turn to cross it off today.

Byeeeeeee! Joaquim xxx

PS: This is Pai looking silly.

Big week-end, vol. 2

2011-05-03T11:24:00.003+02:00

So, while you lot were glued to the RW on TV, or perhaps amongst the cheering crowds of well-wishers (really? wow), we were preparing a party in Chuiba for some friends who were leaving Pemba for Guadeloupe via Paris. Turned into a rather big event, notable for one young lady almost severing her toe on a broken glass (although fortunately she was drunk enough not to feel the full impact), another young man splitting his head on the bottom of the pool (ibid), the bar almost completely running out of booze, apart from a few beers, and dancing until 6 in the morning. Even me. I don't think I've done that since I started having babies. Paulo and I were manning the bar, which is I think why I made it through, as the hours of 10-2 are a blurr of tequila slammers, double everythings, and red bull (that's what I was serving, not drinking, although I confess to a few tequilas). Bet it was better than Will and Kate's shindig.

Big week-end, vol. 1

2011-05-03T10:52:00.004+02:00

What with the long week-end and our DSTV subscription having run out, I have only just had time to peruse some images of the RW. Skipping the actual event and just skimming the highlights has the enormous advantage of missing out all the boring bits and savouring the very best of the worst. I like to think of myself as a republican, but who can resist a gawp at the clothes? Well worth it, as it turns out. Kate looked - of course - lovely: elegant, demure, happy, but so SKINNY. Yikes. But thumbs up for the dress - quite beautiful and totally appropriate. (Poor Diana, the 80s were not good for wedding dresses). William made me realise that at least - for a man - being in the military gives you an excuse to wear something funky to your wedding. As for the rest; Eugenie and Beatrice, good grief, girls, I'm sorry but my first thought was "the ugly sisters". Ok, so it may not be their fault that they're not stunners, but do they have to compound it with their choice of outfits? Especially Beatrice's garish multi-coloured, be-ribonned monstrosity. Could no-one have said something? Then there was Tara P-T who looked like she was in fancy dress, alongside Miriamme whatsername, the Dep PM's wife. DREADFUL. Queen looked OK, I guess, though much as she always does, but kudos to Princess Anne who looked pretty cool. As for Chelsy, could she really not do better than that? Those are just the ones that caught my attention. Oh, and then there was the fiancee of the crown prince of Monaco (a former Olympic swimmer, as it turns out, her, not him), who was wearing such a fabulously understated and elegant outfit that she totally blew all those prissy English ladies in their knee-length patterned dresses, 20 denier tights, boxy jackets and boring hats, out of the water. (See what I did there...?)

Thank goodness the Americans went and shot OBL, as it gives us something else to read about. Kind of intrigued about the burial at sea. Was it a kind of insult? A practical way to dispose of the body without there being the possibility of some kind of shrine or pilgrimmage spot being created? A deliberate attempt to generate conspiracy theories? There's already a T-shirt (as posted by my friend Pepe) which shows a stick-man Osama flailing among the fishes and reads "Bin Laden nao sabe nadar, yo" ("Bin Laden can't swim, yo"), which is kind of weird. Get yer memorabilia here: www.caoazul.com.

Warning: contains graphic reptile photos

2011-04-01T10:29:00.007+02:00

Well I may not have had my camera to hand when I fed a hapless grasshopper to a hungry chameleon, but I certainly had it when we found said chameleon's big brother/sister (or perhaps other half?) in the garden.

What a beautiful beastie! (Although I suspect my mother may not agree...)

Sebastian was extremely impressed, and gamely handled it - gently - before we released it into a cashew tree.

Now I think that's a pretty big chameleon, and I know that Northern Mozambique is home to the world's second-largest chameleon (the largest, and also smallest I think, are found on Madagascar), but I don't know enough to judge whether this is an example of it. Any ideas, naturalist friends? (Should that be naturist? Which one means nudist? I always get confused, but hey, my nudist friends are also welcome to air their opinions!)

Chameleons really are exceptionally cool. Fused toes, funky walk, eyes that look in different directions, and of course the ability to change colour at will. This one obliged by going from greenish - as you can see in the photos - to grey/brown when we placed it on the trunk of the cashew tree. I once had to kill a chameleon as part of some field research (humanely, I hasten to add). It went completely black - one the saddest things I ever saw or had to do. But let's hope this one has a long and happy life.

In sickness and in health

2011-03-28T12:44:00.003+02:00

We - and a fair few of our friends - have been struck by a virulent stomach bug, taking out Joaquim and then Eva. Of course, it happened just as Paulo was leaving for a work trip to Zimbabwe. The little ones are now apparently recovering, but it has not been much of a laugh.

Last night Eva woke up every two hours or so, and what small periods of sleep I managed in between were punctuated by Utama noisily dispatching a bush baby (seems she's got a taste for the local wildlife), and Sebastian crawling into bed with me at some murky point in the early hours. As such, I was fast asleep at 7am when Rafina turned up for work and she had to shout from the locked gate for about 5 minutes to be let in. It was a bit of a scramble to get Sebastian to school (Joaquim pleaded for another day at home), and I only made it through the morning by taking my coffee with me. Let's hope tonight is a bit better.

Here are the two invalids on a happier day - notice a family resemblance?

Nature red in tooth and claw

2011-03-17T09:50:00.005+02:00

A good day for nature's predators yesterday.

Spike caught what we think was his first mouse - right at my feet - cue a great deal of excitement from him and us. Utama immediately nicked it off him then chewed it noisily just off the veranda (lovely). We have noticed a distinct reduction in rodent activity at home recently; it seems our Jack Russel investment is paying off.

Earlier in the day, a chameleon that had wandered into the house (much to Rafina's alarm as they are considered by local people to be highly venomous, despite being in fact totally harmless) was relocated to a mango sapling outside the yard. As Joaquim, Sebastian and our neighbour Gen watched, I tempted it with a captured grasshopper. Success! The chameleon snapped it up. A great National Geographic moment - if only I had thought to grab my camera.

Of these little events is our entertainment made.

Meanwhile, in Chuiba, the wire-tailed swallows are lining up in ever-increasing numbers, like beads strung on a necklace of electricity lines, gathering and preparing for the great flight North. Cue cooler weather for us, and warmer weather for most of you.

R.A.I.N.

2011-03-03T10:27:00.004+02:00

The rain it raineth in my car
And also on my kitchen table,
But mainly in my car because

My sunroof is a touch unstable.

(With apologies to whoever penned the original, funnier, version)

Having a pretty intense rainy season again this year.

Eva is 1

2011-02-22T11:01:00.005+02:00

Yesterday was Eva's birthday. Her very first. It was a pretty cute occasion all round.

The birthday girl looked cute (here she is with 14 month old friend Renata).

The birthday cake was cute.

And even the other guests were pretty cute.

Is this what happens when you have a girl?

I'm happy to say that it was also noisy, messy and chaotic, so some things stay the same.

New Year, new beginnings

2011-02-02T10:54:00.003+02:00

I am no longer working at the Quirimbas National Park, as my contract came to an end on Monday. It was not unanticipated, and I'm looking into a number of other possibilities, but at the moment I am enjoying using our office in Chuiba, which has a lovely view over the coconut trees, and a nice cool pool just down the path.

Chuiba Palms was officially inspected, approved and inaugurated in December, which was a great relief and source of some pride to us. So we are open for business, and in the process of getting a website, marketing materials and good promotioanl photos together. (As you can see, I have things to fill my time with.)

Meanwhile, the boys begin a new year at school, with Sebastian happy in Reception at THE BIG SCHOOL and Joaquim in Year 3. The fact that all bar one of Sebastian's colleagues graduated from kindergarten with him, and that he knows many of the older kids already, have made the transition apparently painless. They are both also very proud of their new uniform, which is a rather smart but practical aertex shirt embroidered with the school logo, in a choice of 5 colours, and navy shorts. Have photos, will post.

Eva has also embarked on a new adventure of her own: mobility. She is commando crawling - at last - and I have no doubt will soon be all over the house and into everything. Must get that shelf up in the bathroom before she sidles up to the washing machine and downs a cup of washing powder.

Another baby?

2010-11-22T11:00:00.002+02:00

We have new members of the family to introduce.

First up is Spike, who I think we can all agree, is about as cute as a puppy can get. Currently taking on cardboard boxes, Eva's soft toys, old bones and everyone's ankles, we hope that as a bona fide Jack Russell he will later resolve any rodent issues at home and in Chuiba once and for all.

Next up is Sally (the boys are naming the dogs BTW), who turned up at our gate absolutely starving. You could count every single rib and notch in her spine. She was desperate to be let in and so very friendly that we relented and started feeding her then adopted her once she was givben the all clear by the vet. She's still a bit hectic and jumps all over me when I get home (I think she can't quite believe she's got a family for good), but she's an excellent guard and has woken up our two old ladies who were getting so laid-back pretty much anyone could have walked into the yeard and out again with all our most prized posessions with nothing more than a wag of a tail as acknowledgement.

Next week, we take in a half-dozen cats and an iguana.

Taking Halloween by storm

2010-11-02T11:27:00.003+02:00

On Saturday we celebrated Halloween at Joaquim's school. We forgot our camera, which is a shame, as Joaquim won the prize for the funniest costume. (Also I was wearing a much-admired outsized witch's hat, and plenty of black eyebrow pencil, lipstick and wart to accessorize.) On the other hand, it's not such a shame, as he was wearing his alien costume again (see party pics below), only with new hands as he had popped the last lot, and eyeballs rather than pan scourers on his antennas. I rather over-inflated the hands this time which is apparently what clinched his win.

On Sunday night we had the first storm of this year's rainy season. Huge downpour, loads of dramatic thunder and lightning. Cue plenty of bed-hopping as the boys woke up and got scared: first Sebastian came to our bed, then Joaquim got scared so I went to his bed, then I couldn't sleep so I moved to Sebastian's bed, leaving Sebastian to sleep in our bed. Eva showed great sang-froid. She woke up at the beginning of the storm, drank her bottle of milk and slept through until 6.30 the next morning; as we all did.

That's called a lie-in in these parts.

Boys just wanna have fun

2010-10-01T10:47:00.006+02:00

Joaquim: Hi. Mum's a bit busy so I want to tell you about all the fun we've been having recently. First, Pai got us this great water slide.
Sebastian: It's AWESOME.

J: Then we were invited to a Princes and Princesses party. Mum found some cool stuff in the second-hand clothes shop, and she made us some costumes, and then we made these crowns. I put loads of stars on mine.
S: I LOVE these trousers, they're so HANDSOME. That means beautiful, but for boys.

J: And then, we were invited to an aliens party.
S: SO COOL.

J: Mum went back to the same shop and found all this alien stuff and made us these costumes, with, like four arms, and antennae and stuff. I was a really scary alien.

S: And I LOVED my extra arms. These are the extra ones, not my real arms.

J: Then Sebastian and our friend Matteo did a kind of four-armed aliens dance, I think.

S: I like bread.

J: And it was like, so cool, and we had lots of fun. Oh, and here's Mum with our baby sister Eva.

S: Eva is the cutest baby in the WHOLE WORLD.

J: I don't know why Pai gets so tired.

J: There's no party this weekend. We'll have to find something else for Mum to do. Bye!

Still looking good!

2010-08-16T11:15:00.000+02:00

Me (at breakfast this morning): "blah, blah..., must be because I'm getting old."
Joaquim: "You're not getting old! Your face isn't going all bumpy."

Thanks, love, it's nice to know I still look youthful to my kids. Good way to start the day.

Lateral thinking

2010-08-12T08:05:00.000+02:00

Sebastian, holding a shell to his ear: "The sea is telephoning us."

Kind of back online.

2010-08-09T09:40:00.004+02:00

We are theoretically reconnected but it is so very, very, painfully slow that I cannot even browse for a photo of a snail with which to illustrated this post. Bear with me please.

Communication breakdown

2010-07-28T08:37:00.000+02:00

Due to a problem with the country's fibre-optic cable, we are currently without internet. Normal service to resume asap!

Sleepy lions.

2010-07-12T11:07:00.002+02:00

Aaah, look. Paulo and Eva enjoying a lie-in at the week-end.

Now, where have I seen this before…? Oh yes:

That’s Joaquim at a similar age. And then there’s this:

And where are all the pictures of me enjoying a lie-in with my children? Oh, yeah, I don’t get lie-ins with my children. Or indeed at all. Grumble, grumble.*

But don’t they all look cute?

*To be fair, Paulo tried to give me a lie-in on Sunday, but Sebastian had other ideas. Specifically, another game of airports. We play airports quite a lot.

Beehive

2010-07-01T09:35:00.001+02:00

This girl was made for the 50's.

Massacre de Mueda – 50 years

2010-06-29T10:03:00.001+02:00

My mother has located my camera charger – in London. So while it wings its way here I’ve been taking some snaps with my phone. Not top quality, but better than nothing.

Two weeks ago we all headed up to the Makonde plateau for the 50th commemorations of the infamous Mueda Massacre, where a number (probably around 60, but some say 600, it depends who you talk to) of Makondes were shot dead when they protested the refusal of the Portuguese State to accept their demands for independence. This demand was presented to the Administrator of Mueda before a large number of people, by a Mozambican recently returned from Tanzania where he had been inspired and encouraged by Nyerere. When the Administrator and Governor (of the then Province of Mozambique) refused and made to leave with several people they had arrested, their Land Rover was surrounded by the angry crowd and they ordered the troops to open fire with tragic results. Although the independence war was not to start for some years after the event, it is considered one of the earliest acts of resistance from Mozambicans, and subsequent violence by the Portuguese.

This year the annual celebrations included a reenactment of the massacre, with a Mozambican friend of ours playing the role of the Administrator, an economic fair with all the Districts of Cabo Delgado Province, some private sector operators and several state bodies including the Quirimbas National Park, represented. The President also came to take part in the celebrations.

Here’s Sebastian enjoying an elevated view of the show, although what interested him the most were the Presidential jets. He was particularly delighted when we went to the airstrip to see them take off.

I haven’t been up to Mueda for something like 5 years, so it was nice to see old friends, get a taste of Makonde culture again, and show off Eva and the boys. We did lots of shopping at the fair for the Chuiba houses: beautiful Makonde pots, which are decorated with elaborate patterns, brightly coloured straw mats from Palma, wood-cuts from one of my favourite local artists (remember the story of the frog?) and sculpture.

Eva behaved beautifully, travelling no problem and sleeping happily tucked in between me and Paulo, and snug in her sleeping bag (it’s cold on the plateau in June). Here she is on the way:

All in all we had a fun few days, although I was disappointed to miss the Mapiko dancing (fantastic masked dances with frenetic drumming) on our first evening, as I thought I’d get another chance. But hopefully it will be less than 5 years before we go again.

120 days.

2010-06-21T09:46:00.001+02:00

Eva is four months old today.
She is growing and plumping up nicely.
She is starting to hold her head up.
She is grabbing things: toys, hair, necklaces, clothes.
She is paying more attention to people and things.
She is turning her head when you talk to her.
She is doing that cute hand-wringing thing.
She is sleeping mostly OK.
She is a delight.

Orange Prize

2010-06-10T09:14:00.002+02:00

Ooh, ooh, Barbara Kingsolver has won the Orange Prize for her new novel The Lacuna. I'm a big fan of Kingsolver, but - and this shows how isolated we are out here - I didn't even know she had published a new book (her first since 2000). For those of you who haven't read any Kingsolver I highly recommend The Poisonwood Bible (her biggest hit) but also some of her earlier, perhaps more lightweight, books. Apparently The Lacuna is quite challenging, but I like a challenging (as long as it's not a polite way of saying boring) read. One for my Christmas list.

Eva update

2010-06-09T11:14:00.001+02:00

Well it seems that Eva likes to keep me on my toes, one night sleeping beautifully and the next reverting to a newborn-type wake up every two hours schedule. What fun. Meanwhile, she’s making progress on other fronts: the other day she managed to grab the label of one of the toys that dangle before her on her bouncy chair, which she’s been batting at for the last week or so. She’s also starting to make laughing noises to accompany the big beaming toothless smiles that go so far to make up for the irregular sleeping. Very cute. I’ve totally forgotten the different stages so its almost like starting afresh, each new development a lovely surprise. She hasn’t quite got her head under control yet, perhaps as it is quite big, but the rest of her body is definitely catching up. I don’t think anyone would label her as “dismorphic” now (really, how dared they?), although I think she’s quite unusual-looking for a baby and I can’t really predict how she’s going to look when older. She has a lot of dad and my mother-in-law, but also elements of my younger sister. Interesting. Unfortunately I’ve misplaced the charger for my camera so I have no recent pics to post. Must make a more thorough search as she has a great mohican of hair at the moment which will surely not last (at least I hope not) but should be recorded for posterity. Indeed Eva has so much hair that it’s pretty much the first thing everyone comments on, even some kids who normally wouldn’t be expected to notice that kind of thing. Lucky girl.

Sebastian continues to be totally enamored with his little sister. “How’s Eva?” is usually the first thing he asks in the morning and when I pick him up from school and he insists on sitting next to her car seat on every journey, although Joaquim occasionally complains. He likes to lean over her saying “hello, little Eva” and making funny faces to amuse her. I think Joaquim is waiting for her to grow up and become more interactive; although he happily places an older-brotherly kiss on her brow at bedtime he’s not as interested as Sebastian is. Funny, as I had anticipated the opposite.

As for me, I’m happily giving away the boys’ baby clothes that I had put aside, just in case, and enjoying the lovely little girly things that I’ve been given by many kind friends. Indulge me…

Shhh, dare I say it?

2010-05-28T11:34:00.004+02:00

Loudly sing huzzah (or perhaps I should whisper it), Eva has settled back down, and though she does tend to wake in the early hours needing a cuddle in order to sleep on (with us) until 5.30 ish, it's perfectly acceptable. Phew. I feel human again.

Eva goes to Ibo

2010-05-25T11:44:00.002+02:00

Still struggling with the internet although the situation has improved.

Last week was spent on Ibo, for our second large-scale community consultation exercise. Last time (2007) we invited members of coastal and island communities to come and draw a lot of pretty pictures and tell us what they thought of us (the park). This time it was people from all over the park, almost 200 of them, drawing pretty pictures etc. It's always interesting hearing what people have to say, and though it was hard work it was enjoyable. Plus points: much enthusiasm for park initiatives such as marine reserves (more fish and bigger), blocks of fields (much easier to keep the ellies out, more food) and scholarships for girls (girls staying on in school, fewer premature pregnancies and marriages). Minus points: women still feeling that they don't have a strong voice, falling stocks of octopus and other seafood which they particularly rely on, no-one ever mentions tourism as a benefit of being in the park (note to self: a little more promotion of how many jobs have been created in this sector).

Eva behaved beautifully and was much admired. We are considering several proposals of marriage. But - alas, alas, wail and gnash teeth - her wonderful sleeping habits (an unexpected blessing after the two boys) have been thrown into disarray. She was going to bed at 6, waking only at 1 and then 4 for two quick feeds. Now she goes to bed at 6 and wakes up all over the place, at not more than 2 and a half hour intervals last night. That, combined with a never before seen intensity of mosquito activity (heavy rains this year) has devastated my sleep. I'm hoping, praying, that she settles back down soon. I'm not sure I can do this again.

Welcome home!

2010-05-10T11:21:00.001+02:00

Yes indeed, what a welcome home. No internet, almost no phone, apart from the occasional sms or incoming call, it’s been like the good-old-bad-old days. Until today, back on-line and able to, amongst other things, have a look at my bulging inbox, check out the fall-out from the election and the volcano and the near-collapse of the Euro, and post a quickie here to assure you that I’m still alive and kicking.

Nice to be home, with my boys, showing off Eva. Work is quite full-on, the promising young man I had recruited just before leaving having done a runner after just a month (a fact no-one thought to communicate to me until I arrived), so I’m trying to squeeze everything I used to do in a full day into a mornings-only timetable. But it’s great to have the afternoons to do other things, especially spend more time with the kids.

So no time to waffle on here, but I’ll try to schedule the occasional blog post into my busy mornings.

2s, 1d, welcome number three!

2010-04-26T13:20:00.006+02:00

One or two people have mentioned to me that it's been a while since I last posted and so I have succumbed to the flattering impression that people want to read what I have to say. I can barely remember what I last wrote, but I think it was about my up-coming caesarian which is now - incredibly - 9 weeks past. As it happens, it was not particularly scary - although Paulo was so pale as we waited in theatre for me to be anaesthetised that I thought he was going to pass out ("Who's looking pale?" the obstetrician called out in alarm, and Paulo told me not to worry if he had to slip out for a minute, which I vigorously protested, but which didn't actually happen, I think the big blue screen helped him stay put and stay conscious, and he held my hand throughout, but I digress) - but it was pretty weird. I didn't like the pure medicated nature of the procedure, nor particularly the way the obstetrician had to tug and push and wrench to get the baby out. It was all distinctly unnatural, and I find it strange that women should choose to do it more than once. Give me a vaginal birth with an epidural any day.

That said, the recovery was not as bad as I expected, in fact it was easy, although not being able to drive for 6 weeks was an absolute pain in the *rse, and most importantly of all my gorgeous little baby girl arrived safe and well. As it happens she had the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck three times which may be why she couldn't turn over and which could have made a delivery dangerous, so all in all the c-section was definitely a good thing.

How can I have got this far without posting a photo? Here she is, little Eva at 4 days, as sweet a little bundle of joy as anyone could wish for:
Of course, she looks just like her father, as did the boys when they were born. I am resigned to my role as rent-a-womb.

And then, just as we thought we could relax and enjoy her, the fun and games started. A paediatrician who saw her on day 2 thought she looked dysmorphic, with her widely-set eyes and large head. "Have you met my husband and my sons?" I asked in vain. We were dispatched to see a whole bunch of specialists, including a geneticist who took one look at the lot of us, measured everyone's heads and sent us home. When they all gave her a clean bill of health she went on to fail her hearing test, twice. Cue referral to the ear, nose and throat hospital, where it was revealed that all she had was a little fluid behind her ear-drum, due to a cold, that should clear up by itself. (In between we slipped off to sunny Portugal for a week - lovely - but there were 10 days during which we were contemplating full or partial deafness.) Phew. But what's this little lump that has popped up in her groin? A hernia, no less, that required surgery.

At this point the gods - or to be precise Vulcan - must have taken pity on me for they caused my flight home to be cancelled, giving us time for the op and a free re-scheduling. So for the rest of you inconvenienced by the Icelandic eruption, sorry, it was our fault.

Eva is now absolutely fine, or at least seems to be, and we leave for Moz tomorrow. I have missed both the boys' birthdays (they left with Paulo 4 weeks ago, and are both smitten with their little sister), but I come laden with presents which should make up for it. See you there!

Waiting for number three

2010-01-29T12:23:00.006+02:00

It's very strange to go from having a full-time job, two small children to care for, a house to run and a husband to (for want of a better word) entertain, to having not much to do but sit around and watch my tummy grow. And so, in a moment of ante-natal selflessness, number three has thought up a way to keep me busy. Not just sorting through and washing the baby clothes that have been passed down from grandchild to grandchild (cue cute photo above), but also regular sessions of crawling around the living room and sitting with my head down and bum in the air. Yes, number three is breech, and despite my best efforts looks like it's thinking of staying that way.

And so I have entered a whole new world: turning breech babies. The above-mentioned exercises so far have given me raw knees and a sore back. According to the midwives and the internet I can also take my pick from the following: ECV, which is basically external manipulation by the obstretrician (30% success rate and we're doing it next week), acupuncture (willing to give it a go), bag of frozen peas on top of baby's head (er, well, ok, why not?), playing music through headphones stuck to my pelvis (getting very sceptical) and burning incense sticks pressed to the outside of my little toes (get real).

My no-nonsense obstetrician has given me the bottom line on what happens if none of that works: "You'll have to have a ceasarian." No discussion of a breech delivery. Truth be told, I don't think I would risk it anyway as the main problem with breech deliveries is that the head has a tendency to get stuck as it hasn't been compressed by engaging in the pelvis and the process of labour. Number three, according to the latest scan, has a slightly larger than average head circumference (in which it takes after number one and Dad) and so I wouldn't want to take a chance. But the thought of a C-section is a bit scary. I know that it's pretty straight-forward and of course there's the advantage of not going though labour, which has never been my favourite bit of motherhood, but still, it does mean someone is going to cut me open and then stitch me back up and I've never had any major surgery. Fortunately for me, I have a friend who has just had one, so I can get the low-down and I'm sure it wouldn't be so bad if it came to it. But, it's OK to be nervous, right?

Meanwhile, where are those peas...?

Slack slack slack - not my tummy!

2010-01-15T14:29:00.007+02:00

Never mind New Year's resolutions, all my good intentions back in - when was it now - November - to be more assiduous in posting here went out the window in grand style. To which there is only one solution, which is to post a bunch of festive-season cute photos of the boys and hope that that will make up for it.

I love the concentration on Sebastian's face. Serious business...

Yes, that was our Christmas tree, and yes, it's still weird for me too that we decorate it in the blazing sunshine every year.

Note the dim quality of the next picture. That's because it was all of 4.45am when Sebastian came tearing into our bedroom shouting "Look what Father Christmas brought me!!!" and after the stocking frenzy came present madness, all well before 6am. Yawn.

I am proud to say that I did make it to midnight on New Year's eve, which is the first time in a long while, which we spent with friends in 3 little rented bungalows some 80km outside Pemba. The all-day pool session (followed by dinner, roasted marshmallows, and sparklers ) ensured that the kids were tucked up nice and early and we adults managed a very civilised dinner under the full-moon partial eclipse and brilliant stars of the tropical night sky. Lovely.

I like the way Paulo looks like he's wearing one of my earrings there, do you think they'd suit him?

And then next day it was more pool and more good food and enough nap time for all of us to head home happy and smiling and feeling up to whatever 2010 has to throw at us.

Which in my case, and very shortly now, is of course a new baby. I'm off to England on Wednesday, and so the next you may hear from me may well be some pics of a very new number 3.

Cheerio!

A weighty problem

2009-11-23T09:31:00.004+02:00

The things you can learn on-line. I was checking on the progress of number three (almost 27 weeks) on one of those all-about-pregnancy sites, and discovered to my delight that over the next 9 weeks I'm really going to pile on the weight. That would be on top of the 10kg+ I've already gained then. Great. But despair not, tells me the site, as this is necessary for a healthy pregnancy and furthermore it will be distributed over various parts of my anatomy. The average breast, I am authoritatively told, weighs 7 ounces before pregnancy and can increase to 14 ounces by the end. Apart from the fact that I am delighted that my own frontage has recovered its pre-motherhood days of glory, however many ounces that is, I am intrigued as to how they weigh the "average breast". I once had a friend/colleague who was exceptionally well endowed. She told me that she and her boyfriend had tried various ways of weighing her breasts - from placing each individually on a kitchen scale, to floating them in water while she stood on a bathroom scale - but with no satisfactory result.

Any ideas, dear readers? Or perhaps you'd like to share your own experiences with the world?

(Sorry, did I promise you a proper post?)

Busy busy busy

2009-11-18T09:06:00.002+02:00

It's been pretty busy here over the last week or so, not helped by the fact that internet access has been erratic to say the least. I'm off to Ibo in a few minutes to do some birding with Malcolm. I'll try to post something more interesting next week!

Saying goodbye to old friends

2009-11-09T10:32:00.009+02:00

One of the harder things about living in Pemba is that people come and go frequently. Many come on 2-year NGO contracts or the like, and just as you are getting to know them it's time to move on. So we have got used to casual, short-term friendships, enjoying them while they last but not investing too much emotion. It's easier that way. It's different when old-timers, like our friends Mike and Gal (3rd from L front row and 2nd from R back row) have decided - after 13 years here - that it's time for something new for them and their girls.

I'm very happy for them. They've found a place they love - Temecula, CA - and they're excited and happy about their new start. But it brought a tear to my eye to close the last chapter on our story.

It's a story of friendship

Of new arrivals that grew together and played together

And a bit of a love story too

And so obviously I hope that we'll start another chapter of another story, not just a Pemba story and maybe a different kind of story, but a good story anyway.

Boa viagem, Karivs! Estamos juntos!

Just and bit of an update

2009-10-22T10:02:00.005+02:00

Hmm, not doing very well in keeping this blog up to date, am I? It's been a month since the last post, and what have the Phillips-Marques clan been up to? Much of the usual as it would turn out.

Joaquim's doing well at school; his report card for last term mentioned an exceptional ability in maths for his age. I think it's a bit early to be proclaiming him a maths genius, but it's certainly his favourite activity after drawing. His drawings are great: full of dinosaurs, boats, planes, aliens (not usually all together), very dynamic and detailed. Sebastian has also discovered that he can draw. It all started with planes - still an abiding obsession - which continue to be his favourite subject, but he's branched out into cars, dinosaurs and stick people. Our fridge is that stereotypical item of a young family's household: an exhibition of frequently changing, many-hued young people's artwork. I love it!

Paulo is as always busy on many fronts, but especially pouring lots of time and energy into the houses in Chuiba. They're really coming together, and we're hopeful that we may have two or three finished by the New Year. Many compliments have come our way, and we think they look pretty good. It occurs to me that I should post some photos...

I am fattening up nicely, a combination of slack tummy muscles and a desperate chocolate craving. Number three is a busy child, wriggling and kicking and generally making its presence felt on a regular basis. I'm in that happy window between the nausea and prodigious burping which characterised the first three months of this pregnancy (completely unlike either of the previous two), and the last three in which I will inevitably be huge, lumbering, and hot. Why do I always time my pregnancies so perfectly so as to coincide with the hottest time of the year here? Have I not learned my lesson? Oh well, bit late now.

Been spending time on Ibo. Last week I was there for a few days, discussing the community camp on neighbouring Matemo island with a possible investor. I hope it works out. The camp is in a beautiful spot, and has huge potential. As I flew back I saw breaching humpback whales from the air for the first time. They were tiny, little white tic-tacs leaping from the water and causing a huge splash. We've been lucky enough to see lots of whale activity from the shore this year, even Joaquim and Sebastian got a good view the other week-end and were suitably impressed. It's an astonishing sight, no matter how many times you see it: this huge creature rearing out of the water almost to its full 14 or 16 metres, 60 or so tons of whale flesh shooting up into the air then falling in apparent slow motion into a pure white explosion of foam. Definitely one of the highlights of the year.

Another of which is of course the season of the beloved mango, officially opened with the consumption of my first two yesterday.
Marvellous
Aromatic
Nectar-filled
Glorious
Orange-fleshed food of the gods. Sigh.

Summer loving

2009-09-23T15:30:00.007+02:00

So I realise that reading about other people's holidays is not always thrilling and as such I shall keep this year's resume to a hit and miss list and a few photos.

HITS:

Family. An all-round winner; many happy hours spent in the company of parents/grandparents, siblings, cousins etc.

Friends. Many and varied and best of all several whose path we haven't crossed for far too many years. Wonderful.

Dinosaurs. The Natural History Museum once again scored highly on the boys' holiday satisfaction reader. The animatronics, the big teeth, the toys! What's not to love?

Aquarium. Going strong in its third summer holiday, the Lisbon Oceanarium is a must-see, and the sea otters don't get any less cute over time.

Food. Daily ice-cream, real cheese, stylish sea-food restaurants, awesome take-away curry, freshly picked figs and super-Maman's home cooking. Yum.

Dentist. Unlikely one this, but we all got the all-clear. Result!

Murtal. 3 days in the country cottage where we got married, eating fruit staright off the trees, swimming in a glorious fresh-water tank, reminiscing and the rest.

London Zoo. Much changed since my last visit (decades ago), my sister and I enjoyed this as much if not more than the kids.

MISSES:

Lost luggage. My bag did not turn up in Lisbon. I think it's still in Heathrow. BA have no idea where it is. Grrrrr.

Sea. Lovely beaches, shame about the bloody freezing water in bot the UK and Portugal. I have clearly lost my nerve. The boys overcame their initial reluctance to romp gaily in the frigid waters of the North Sea/Atlantic. Obviously take after their maternal garndfather.

Pregnancy-related anxiety. I was very much looking forward to sharing the good news of our forthcoming thrid child with all my friends and family when a very dodgy nuchal translucency result - implying a heightened possibility of all sorts of chromosomal and heart abnormalities - went and threw a spanner in the works. Cue biopsy of the placenta (large needle stuck into my tummy, no pain but no fun either) and several weeks of background anxiety until the final results and a further two scans showed that there was absolutely nothing wrong with the little one after all. Not exactly what we had in mind for the holidays, but on the other hand our final HIT is that we are indeed expecting a perfectly healthy baby at the end of February, and no we don't know whether it's a boy or a girl, and although it's pretty obvious what I might be hoping for (Paulo is genuinely indifferent to gender) I am just grateful that all is well and I will love equally whoever turns up in 5 months.

After all, going on past form, we won't do too badly!

Still here.

2009-09-21T12:36:00.002+02:00

We've been on holiday. Normal service to resume soon.

Pemba Open 2009

2009-08-10T11:19:00.007+02:00

After last year's roaring success, Il Pirata hosted the second Pemba Open kite-surfing competition two week-ends ago. Much larger and with more on offer than last time, even the less than ideal wind conditions (after howling gales for 2 weeks the winds dropped to the point of no kiting on day 3 of teh competition) were not enough to dampen the ethusiasm of the crowd and the competitors. Wake-boarding substituted kite-surfing when the wind dropped and Paulo as DJ and MC ran a series of silly competitions to hand out six-packs of cider courtesy of a sponsor. Music on the beach, grilled food, bar and coffee shop, South African Sport TV and a local station and an excellent turn-out in the crowd all contributed to atmosphere which was pure Pemba.

A few pics (courtesy of my colleague Dave Reynolds) to give you an idea of what we were up to:

A Makonde "Just So Story"

2009-08-04T12:14:00.004+02:00

How the toad got his belly.

One day a father toad and his son were in the forest. The father told his son to wait for him in the shade of a tree while he went out hunting for lunch.

As the little toad waited a man walked past. The toad had never seen a man and was astonished at his size. Afraid and in awe, he crouched in the shadows silently and waited for the monster to pass.

When his father returned he told him that a huge creature, the like of which he had never seen, had passed by while he was gone.

"How big was he?" asked his father. "As big as me?"
"No, much bigger," replied the son.
"This big?" asked his father, puffing himself up.
"Bigger!"
"This big?" puffing himself up further.
"Bigger still!"
"This big?" puffing himself up as far as he could.
"Even bigger! He was enormous!" replied the little toad.

But when his father tried to deflate himself, he found that he was stuck, and that is how the toad got his belly.

(Told me by a Makonde artist as I admired his block prints at an arts and crafts fair last week. I was looking at an illustration of this tale.)

A little fun with paints

2009-07-17T12:22:00.009+02:00

A rare foray into religious controversy

2009-07-07T14:28:00.003+02:00

Unusually, today I find myself in agreement with the Pope in his third encyclical:
"The conviction that the economy must be autonomous, that it must be shielded from "influences" of a moral character, has led man to abuse the economic process in a thoroughly destructive way," the pope said. "In the long term, these convictions have led to economic, social and political systems that trample upon personal and social freedom, and are therefore unable to deliver the justice that they promise."

But then he goes on to spoil it all by railing against agencies who promote contraception, especially in poor countries. God forbid that women should gain the right to choose how many children they have. My maid's sister has had 10, 6 survive, she looks a decade older than Paulina who has had five, all living.

I've never really understood this one. Once the Catholic church has accepted that it's OK to have sex for pleasure using the ever-reliable rhythm method, why is actual contraception so different? Is a pill or a little piece of rubber really enough to thwart the omnipotent one if he puts his mind to it?

Rat in my washing?

2009-07-03T08:57:00.002+02:00

We have installed a washing machine. OK, OK, I know this is not big news for most of you, but it's quite something in our household, especially for Aina, who has been doing all our washing by hand for the last 5 years (that's two babies' worth of nappies for a start).

My favourite feature? "Rat cover (optional)."

It's worth it! (groan)

2009-06-16T15:53:00.004+02:00

My family has a long and happy association with the village of Worth Matravers in Dorset, and its fantastic pub The Square and Compass. Which is why it gave me great pleasure to see that it was the only pub in Dorset to be listed in the Guardian's top 200 pubs nationwide.

Now get down there for a pint of Tanglefoot before everyone else finds out about it.

(Photo courtesy of www.southwestseakayaking.co.uk who obviously rate the area - and the pub - highly.)

Facebook

2009-06-12T15:35:00.004+02:00

I have quit Facebook. I never have time to go to the site, don't really see the point as I email my friends anyway, and quite often can't even access it without crashing my computer.

So why do I feel like I've done something wrong?

Boom, shake shake shake the room

2009-06-09T09:18:00.003+02:00

This morning as we had breakfast what felt like a huge explosion shook our house and vibrated in our chests, leaving us shaken in more ways than one. We looked at each other astonished, and for the first time in my life I realised to some extent just how horrific it must be to experience a true bombardment. Gaza, Afghanistan, Iraq, my God, the Blitz. No wonder my grandmother used to hide in the downstairs loo during thunder storms.

Happily, it turns out it was the army on training exercises nearby and not some undiscovered ordinance accidentally dug up at the building site down the road.

Scary.

World environment day: a late contribution.

2009-06-08T11:11:00.006+02:00

On the evening we spent in the Himlayan Homestay houses the four of us in our house had a long discussion with our hosts and translator/guide from the Snow Leopard Conservancy. Somewhat unexpectedly we found ourselves discussing global environmental problems and climate change. The Ladakhi people in rural areas live on the whole in very small villages, largely dependent on their livestock for wool, dairy products and fuel, plus the small amount of barley and potatoes that they cultivate during the short summer, apples, apricots and a few other goods traditionally traded for but now mostly bought in Leh town. They remain self-sufficient to an impressive level, and an unusual one in this globalised era, which I suppose is an essential survival technique if you live in a place cut off by snow for 6 months of the year.

Or at least it was. Now, in Ulley village at least, the roads open a full 2 months earlier than previously. Good on the one front, as it allows them better access to town and the facilities therein, but bad - very bad in fact - in that it represents a much smaller annual snowfall. The snow is their only source of water; as it melts it irrigates their fields and feeds the grass that feeds their livestock. The glacier above the village, a fail-safe source of water for time immemorial, is visibly shrinking. Our guide, Jigmet, was seriously concerned.

Do I have to spell out why the glacier is melting? Do I have to point out that it has very little to do with the way of life of the people to whom it represents their entire livelihood? Do I have to add that it has everything to do with our lifestyle? Do I have to remind us that there is no emergency exit on this particular spacecraft and that sooner or later this is going to catch up with us when we find we can no longer buy our way out of trouble?

I acknowledge my part in this problem. Our summer holiday involves a trans-continental flight from which our share of carbon emissions are over 6 tonnes. For our trip to Portugal, I have checked out ferries and trains as an alternative to flying: they are so much more expensive that I cannot justify the extra expense. It was the same last summer. Please, I would like an alternative.

Technical incompetence

2009-06-03T11:20:00.002+02:00

Hmmm, will I ever work out how to format my text and photos? It looked OK on the preview. Oh well. Here's the one that is covered up by me at the Taj, it's of Thiksey monastery. And as for how the text relates to the rest, I'm sure you can work it out for yourselves.

Land of contrasts

2009-06-03T10:13:00.011+02:00

As I believe I have mentioned, I have just spent 10 days in India, my first visit to that most dazzling and description-defying land of contrasts in 12 years. I was lucky enough to have been invited on an exchange visit courtesy of the African Safari Lodge Foundation, a South African organisation working to secure benefits for local communities from tourism. Our hosts were Equations, an Indian research and advocacy group with much the same aims. An interesting two-day workshop in hot and hectic Delhi was followed by a trip up into the high and chilly Himalayas, around Leh town, where the highlight for all of us was a night in a local home, participating in a homestay project facilitated by the Snow Leopard Conservancy Trust. (I'm giving you all these names because I really feel they deserve a plug!)

The SLC have been doing great work to protect the endangered snow leopard - and other rare wildlife - through working with local communities to develop alternative livelihood options like the homestays and ways of protecting their livestock from predator attacks. They have been so successful that livestock losses have been reduced to near zero, and retaliatory attacks on snow leopards have ceased completely. Once-resented predators are now described as the "ornaments of our mountains". And their homestays, with an amazing cultural richness and true warmth and hospitality, put mine to shame!

Rather than waffle on any longer, I'll let the pictures do the talking.

First it was all a bit:

But then off we flew and it was all...

Once we arrived it started looking like this:

We visited some beautiful and spiritual places...

...and met some interesting people.

But there was still time for some sight-seeing at the end.

And last but not least, if you are ever in Delhi, I highly recommend the absolutely awesome Cocoberry frozen yoghurt place in Defence Colony market. Without a doubt the best way to beat the heat! (Headline during our stay: "Summer Cool: storm drops Delhi temperatures to 39C".)

Let them eat cake

2009-05-27T10:47:00.013+02:00

I don't think either I, nor you - dear readers - nor indeed the computer have the stamina for a full run-down of the last two months or so. So let's ease ourselves in with some easy viewing pics of the birthdays of the men in my life, starting with that lovable rascal Sebastian, who turned three on 18th April. Here is Sebastian opening his presents at breakfast:

Nice of his big brother to help him out with all that tricky paper tearing don't you think?

And here's the birthday boy with his Cars cake:

Which was duly admired and then destroyed in post-Happy Birthday 15 lap race to the death:

After which much fun was had with new toys and old favourites (it was raining so we just brought everything inside):

And we moved swiftly on to big boy Joaquim, who turned five on the 26th of April, for whom a slightly more elaborate party was in order.

So we had lots of games and the now-traditional treasure hunt.

And of course cake, this time a Spiderman motif, wddaya mean you can't tell (and those chocolate ladybirds are doing quite a good job standing in for spiders, don't you think?), although to be fair I feel that this year's efforts do not quite reach the dizzying heights of last year's pirate ship, though they wipe the floor with Sebastian's rabbit/mouse (it had long ears I tell you!) from two years ago, so I must be making progress. (At this point I wish I could remember how to link to my old posts so you can judge for yourselves.)

So here he is blowing out his candles, and isn't nice of his little brother to help him out with that?

As if this weren't enough, Paulo turned 40 on the 4th of May, which we decided to celebrate not once but twice, first at the week-end at Russell's place (gloriously renovated and reopened to a collective sigh of relief), with a friend who was also celebrating.
The fantastic gold confection is - alas - not mine, but I think you can see a few crumbs of mine here if you look closely:

And then again, on the day itself, at home with some good friends.

After which I found it hard to look a mixing bowl in the eye for a while.

Next up...India.

Headless chicken

2009-05-08T14:28:00.005+02:00

Or blue-arsed fly. Either way, that's been me over the last month or so. And on Monday I'm off to India for 10 days. So all my good intentions of posting photos of Sebastian and Joaquim and Paulo's birthdays and my latest birding trip with Malcolm have gone out the window.

So see you all in a couple of weeks when I shall endeavour to make good!

Wheeeeeeee

2009-03-09T14:56:00.002+02:00

Some friends have just returned from South Africa with what may be Pemba's first Wii. I am emphatically not a computer game person. However, today I'm aching all over from tennis, bowling and baseball, where by my own reckoning I scored moderately, reasonably and undeniably direly. It's absolutely brilliant!

Seafood/soulfood

2009-02-27T13:48:00.002+02:00

Although Paulo has been in Maputo for nearly two weeks and as a result I have been trying to coordinate dropping and picking up the boys at two different schools at two different times, all household and staff issues, shopping, car maintenance, carpenter supervision, thatch ordering, and DIY veterinary treatment for one of the dogs who has been fighting and has a huge hole in his neck, as well as putting in the occasional appearance at work, I shouldn’t really complain.

At the week-end, taking advantage of a bank holiday, the boys and I hitched a ride in a stylish fishing boat (no sarcasm, this is a serious game fishing boat not a local dhow) to Sito, a simple yet lovely beach lodge about 30km up the coast, where we were spoiled rotten by our hosts Craig and Tessa. Alongside the swimming and snorkeling, delicious food and generous sun-downer cocktails, we were treated to not one but three dolphin sightings, much to the boys’ (and my) delight. The last of these was on an otherwise unsuccessful fishing trip, when a large pod of spinner dolphins (small and fast) came to the boat and swam with us for about 5 minutes, weaving in and out of the bow-wave, hopping over wavelets, passing bits of sea-weed from flipper to tail to flipper, seeming to check us out as intently as we – hanging over the bow about one metre above them – were them.

It was magical, and the three days away from Pemba were a life-saver for me, as my fuse was burning dangerously low.

“I think we should stay for years and years,” said Joaquim. I have to say, it was very tempting.

That was written two weeks ago, since when our interment connection has been so bad I haven’t been able to post anything at all. Paulo is back from Maputo, and we’ve been back to Sito, where at about 7.30 on Saturday morning we were doing this:

If it’s not immediately obvious to you what this is, look carefully under Paulo’s elbow: you will see the liquid eye of an enormous green turtle.

It had been caught in a fishing net; on purpose or by accident is unclear, but what is quite clear is that it was heading for the pot had we not arrived on the scene.
I won’t go through it blow by blow, but it was an utterly thrilling experience, both for Paulo and me who were actually disentangling the poor creature, and for the boys (including Joauqim's best friend Milan), who were astonished at the sheer size of it, and must have imagined that sea turtles were something like land tortoises: “it’s giant! It’s huge!” And it was: the shell alone was at least a metre long, the head almost the size of a rugby ball. An informed diver friend who saw the photos estimated it to be about 200 years old.

Sadly, many turtles are still being hunted and consumed in the waters around Pemba and inside the Park. All the fishermen are aware that it is illegal, but enforcement is weak (especially outside the park). Of course it’s difficult for people who have hunted these animals for generations to understand that – through no fault of their own – turtle populations have reached such a critically low mass that every individual counts. It is unfair that while long-liners and drift netters account for thousands of turtle deaths each year and are not penalized for it, local fishermen who are principally aiming to feed their (hungry) families are bearing the brunt of conservation initiatives. But looking into that animal’s dark eye, feeling the tug as it freed its last flipper from the net and armed with the knowledge that for every 1000 turtle hatchlings only one reaches adulthood, I can only hope that our efforts to protect these amazing animals to the best of our abilities are as successful as they could possibly be.

PS: Our dog is much better, thanks.

Happy holidays

2009-01-14T15:36:00.005+02:00

When your friends think you may have died it's definitely time to post something.

We had a family-tastic Christmas and New Year, with a wonderful visit from my parents and sister - you know, the once struggling author who talks too much. Feel free to pop over to her blog for an envy-inspiring pic of the beach we were on at New Year's. I really must add to her eulogy that Nkwichi Lodge was without a doubt one of the loveliest places I have had the pleasure to stay in. The boys loved the jungle adventure mixed with fabulous beach, Joaquim discovered to his delight the joys of swimming underwater with a mask (aided by the presence of hundreds of multi-coloured and very tame fishies in the crystal clear water), and Paulo and I found it hugely relaxing (no mobile phone reception, for one, how blissful is that?). All-round a big thumbs-up. Aside from that there was the usual present frenzy at Christmas, the highlight of which for me was Sebastian's reaction to my urging him to open his other presents after he found an all-singing all-dancing Lightning McQueen at the bottom of his stocking: "I don't need that, I just need this!" (He has barely let it our of his sight since, he sleeps with the big hunk of plastic, bless his cotton socks.) Great Super-Maman Christmas lunch: turkey and trimmings and chocolate roulade (if you ain't tasted it you ain't lived), and all the rest.

Since then it's been back to work, where I have a new member in my team; we are now three (my management skills are being stretched). He is taking over responsibility for the community-based tourism projects, leaving me freer to concentrate on other stuff, like strategic tourism planning and working more closely with the operators and er, blogging. He seems promising.

For Joaquim, Monday was his first day at "The Big School". He has been counting down the days, so excited is he at joining his best friend Milan and the other big kids there. He was so confident and happy, waving me away with barely a glance as he showed off his new exercise book and pencil to his teacher that I was filled with a warm glow of pride. Sebastian is back at nursery next week, which he is equally keen on, but meanwhile has been kept busy playing with his new best friend, Samuel. And what a beautiful pair they make.

Curtains

2008-12-11T08:39:00.003+02:00

Like Gandalady, I have just received Joaquim's end of year report. Among other nice things, it says that "he is happy to perform before others". Well, that was not in evidence last night at his second end-of-year school play. Last year he was supposed to play a shark, refused to go on, and then sobbed inconsolably when he realised he had missed his chance. This year he was supposed to be the narrator, refused to go on, and was not particularly phased when his teacher had to step in. I suppose that's progress. It would seem he's just not cut out for the stage, but on the way home he recited his part perfectly.

Sebastian, however, participated gleefully. He was a monkey; how apt.

New yogi on the block

2008-12-08T14:19:00.003+02:00

For years now I have been intending to start practising yoga. Everyone always says how great it is. My sister's been doing it for something like 7 years. Two weeks ago I gave myself a kick up the butt and joined Pemba's one and only yoga class. I had been lead to expect that yoga was a gentle, transcendental experience. Imagine my surprise when I discovered it is a sweaty, difficult, at times painful and effortful affair. It turns out that Pemba's one and only yoga class is power yoga. I have been yoga'd.

Nevertheless, it feels damn good.

A moral dilemna

2008-11-27T09:53:00.003+02:00

A plan to reduce HIV infection rates in the worst affected countries (read sub-Saharan Africa) to 1% within 50 years has been formulated. It will be expensive to launch but get progressively cheaper and is probably no more expensive than the alternative which is to supply anti-retroviral drugs to an increasing number of sick people over the next 50 years, not to mention the cost to the economies of these countries of the AIDS-related deaths of many productive adults. Cause for celebration, right?

There is, of course, a catch. The catch is that this plan involves the compulsory testing of everybody in those countries and obligatory medication of all HIV-positive people with anti-retrovirals, irrespective of whether they are actually sick or not. This treatment - over several years - reduces the level of the virus to a point where the carrier is no longer able to infect anyone else, but at the same time the toxicity of the drugs causes some unpleasant side effects. So we are talking about the forcible medication of people, with potentially harmful effects, for the greater rather than their personal good.

Without getting into a discussion of the practicalities of applying this on a universal level in counties with limited if any health and transport infrastructure (think Somalia, Darfur, Chad, Eastern Congo), the human rights considerations are complex. It's an issue that interests me not only on an intellectual but also a personal level. On Saturday our mechanic - a young and highly skilled man - died of a severe malaria, quite possible acerbated by his HIV-positive status. I don't know if he knew he was HIV-positive. I do know that he employed half a dozen people, had several children, and was sexually promiscuous. Last year an exceptionally talented local carpenter died of what was almost certainly AIDS-related illnesses. I also know that my maid's daughter (c. 20 years old, mother of one) and one of my neighbours (a musician) are also HIV-positive. I'm quite sure that many other people I know here are also infected, whether they know it or not. Behaviour is not changing, people are dying, the country needs all the able-bodied workers it has to keep the economy growing, and the health service is severely over-stretched. Does that make it right to impose an aggressive medical regime on all of them? I don't know the answer, but I'm pretty sure that I'm going to see a lot more people dying of what Mozambicans call "the disease of the century".

City living

2008-11-10T09:37:00.005+02:00

I've just got back from three days in a city which features buildings designed by Eiffel, live jazz bands at every other eatery, fancy boutiques and shining new 5* hotels, a thriving arts scene and possibly the best prawns in the world. That last one should have told you that I was not on a short break to Paris, but actually in Maputo, capital of my adopted country. What a revelation! My memories of Maputo - I have not visited in three years - were of a dirty, congested and polluted city. I found it cleaner, more cosmopolitan and friendlier than I was expecting. It may have helped that my nice pensao (Jacaranda) was located in a fancy neighbourhood, and that the seminar I was attending was in one of the smartest hotels in town (Avenida), but I also enjoyed the Latin vibe, the cafe culture and the relative sophistication. It occurs to me that I've perhaps been in Pemba for too long and need to update my expectations of African capital cities, but if you're coming to Mozambique, give Maputo a few days of your time. You won't regret it.

An aside: the first day of the seminar coincided with the US election results. We were lead in a round of applause for Obama's victory - directed at the one US participant, irrespective of her actual political views - by the Minister of Tourism in his opening address. Kind of cool. The whole world is watching; no pressure, Barack (Kenya's most popular boys' name this year).

Small clarification.

2008-10-29T10:57:00.002+02:00

It occurred to me, reading over the previous entry, that the last line has a rather spooky saints' relic-like association, and may in particular confuse readers for whom English is not their first language. I mean, of course, that my hands have the same shape, down to my fingernails and a particular kink in my little finger, as my grandmother's and my mother's, and I think Sebastian may have it too. I have always liked that, and I think of them as a kind of living heritage, which I suppose it what genetics is all about. It is comforting to have such a specific reminder of my grandmother that is part of me too.

Heather Durr, nee Turner

2008-10-29T08:21:00.002+02:00

The day before yesterday was my grandmother's 91st birthday. Here are a few things I know about my grandmother:

She was born and grew up in Algeria, ever proud of her English heritage (her parents came from a small town near Manchester), in a predominantly French colonial society. I don't know much else about her childhood, but in her twenties she married a Frenchman called Maurice Doreau, my grandfather.

As a young, attractive woman, one of the few who spoke English, and blessed with a fine pair of pins, she was very much in demand at dances with the English officers during the Second World War. For many of those young men she probably gave them their last taste of youth, beauty and fun. She often advised us to get up to as much as naughtiness possible whilst young to look back on in our old age. I've tried to follow that advice.

Also during the War, she helped her father smuggle secret messages and hide stranded Allied soldiers, in stories reminiscent of scenes from "Allo Allo".

The War left her with an abiding fear of loud noises, thanks to incidents such as my mother's birth in hospital in Algiers, as bombs fell all around and everyone else huddled in the basement for safety. Her coping strategy for loud thunder storms: lock herself in the loo and sing until they had passed.

She experienced her fair share of tragedy: when she left her first husband (my grandfather) for the man who would be her second she begged to be allowed to take her two daughters. She wouldn't see them again for over a decade. She gave birth to 7 children; one little boy died shortly after birth, her only other son died at 18. My cousin, I suspect her favourite grandchild, died in a motorbike crash when he was 13.

When we visited as children she would lay on a feast, tell naughty jokes, pop her false teeth to make us scream, feed us forbidden sweets and do this funny thing with her knees and hands - flapper style - that never failed to have us laughing hysterically. Her husband was a frightening presence: old (or perhaps not so old), large and prickly, he mumbled at us incomprehensibly and then gave us little presents and went out to the garden to pull up carrots for my sister.

She used to send my father outrageous lacy, feathery, sequinned knickers for his birthday, because it amused her that as a barrister he received briefs.

When I was five I went to spend a week with her, during which time she spoiled me outrageously and I earned her admiration by negotiating arrivals, passport control and baggage reclaim alone, the airline having forgotten that I was travelling as an unaccompanied child.

She died yesterday morning, having remained independent, living in her own home, and abosolutely lucid until her last few days.

I have her hands.

Got to fly.

2008-10-14T15:10:00.003+02:00

Well I know you're all dying to know whether I was successful in my appeal in the case of the tinted windows, but unfortunately I've been too busy to go and check. (I should mention the value of the fine at this point: about $8.) And as I'm off to the bush tomorrow for 12 days birding with Malcolm, you'll just have to hang in there a little longer. Ta-ra.

Birthday message

2008-09-26T10:17:00.003+02:00

A little while ago my sister posted some unusually lyrical spam on her blog. I am likewise moved to post this message I received today:

Strait in a bag, and when it is boild, butter up several times in bed, and had begun to talk it doth anybody that is of lofty birth and the ? Well, yes... I was trying to
make a decision also he promised to supply me with two reliable.

Personally, I am all in favour of being buttered up several times in bed, though I'll skip the boil in the bag bit thanks, I'll take the two reliable whatever they ares, and as for being of lofty birth, I can honestly lay claim to only a small dash of loftiness in my otherwise very mixed heritage, and as far as I know my mother gave birth to me in UCH (35 years ago today) and not a treehouse or some other raised platform, although for all I know it may have been on the 5th floor. Does that count?

The plot thickens

2008-09-24T14:24:00.003+02:00

As I'm not one to take these things lying down, I went to the department of roads and asked them to alter my car documents so that they say I have tinted windows. Which they cannot do because they are stick-on, not tinted glass, as verified by the polite young man who is dealing with me.

"OK, so the police say they must appear on my documents and you say they can't, what do I do?"
"Take them off," replies the young man.
"But I like them! They provide shade for my children. Is it illegal?"
"No, it's not illegal."
"Then I'm not going to take them off!"
"But then the police will hassle you."
"So can you put them on the documents?"
"No."

By then we are back in the office and I ask to see the Highway Code, to see what is says about tinted windows. My fine says I am in breach of article 38/3. Article 38/3, I discover, refers to the correct nomenclature for motorcycles under 50cc. I am appealing.

The rough with the smooth

2008-09-20T10:23:00.006+02:00

It's Saturday, I'm a bit bleary-eyed after a later-than-usual Friday night and an earlier-than-usual wake-up call from the boys, and I'm on my way to a meeting at work with representatives of our major donor, AFD. So you could call my mood middling. I'm driving around the ringroad, which follows the shore line into Pemba Bay proper when a huge splash catches my eye,and there's only one thing that can cause a splash like that:

Immediate upgrading of my mood to excellent. How often do you get to watch humpback whales breaching, visible to the naked eye? One good reason to love living in Pemba.

2 minutes later I am flagged down by the traffic police. My car is 100% legal, I imported it myself and everything works. My driving license is valid, never besmirched by an offence. I am fined for having dark windows in the back, which should - apparently - appear on my documents. Immediate downgrading of my mood to slightly pissed off. I've been driving this car for over 2 years without anyone ever saying anything about the dark windows. I could surely have been given a warning and told to have my car documents altered. I grit my teeth, refuse to offer a bribe, accept the fine. The fine is small, mood returns to middling. On my way home I shall take the ringroad and look for whales.

That's Pemba all over!

Happy birthday!

2008-09-16T10:44:00.004+02:00

Toblerone. Surely one of the finest chocolates in the world. What could be more satisfying than those chunks of top quality chocolate (intense dark or rich milk, as you prefer, and I prefer the former) peppered with perfect nuggets of almond and honey nougat? And the excellent presentation: triangles of bliss. And yet – and I’m sure I am not alone in this – I only ever buy Toblerone in Duty Free. Which is how I come to have not one but two (see options above) large bars nestling in my fridge. When and how did it become such an airport staple? In the course of our five-hour stop-over in Heathrow I had the chance to compare the special offers on this Matterhorn of chocolates, currently celebrating its centenary (and may there be many more). I plumped for 3 for 2 on the large bars, spurning the arriviste limited edition fruit and nut, and sticking with the classics. The third bar, pure white, has found a happy home next door.

So it would appear that we have survived the flights and had a smashing holiday. I will not bore you with the details of our return journey which took a whopping 30 hours from the moment we entered Lisbon airport to the moment we left Pemba airport, but I must give credit where it’s due and in this case it’s due to my boys who were exceptionally well-behaved, all things considered. It did help - a lot - that they are very keen on planes and as a result relatively easily entertained watching take-offs and landings at the various airports, and remaining remarkably enthusiastic about every flight, yes even the eighth. Bless ‘em. What could have been Hell was downgraded to Purgatory.

So, highlights of the holiday.

Joaquim’s: Mekyla, the theme park in Johannesburg and in particular the big wheel, dinosaurs at the Natural History Museum, running with the pack (of cousins) in France, discovering mini-golf, pony-riding, the big sunfish at the Lisbon Oceanarium.

Sebastian’s: the elephant doing a poo at Jo’burg zoo, the “robot pick up rubbish” (wall-e), riding a chairlift up the mountain, late bedtimes in Lisbon, so many enormous aeroplanes.

Mine: being with my parents, siblings and all their offspring for a week against the background of the beautiful Alps, the London Eye (at last!), spending a night and a day at the house we restored for our wedding, exactly 8 years earlier, with a bunch of my favourite in-laws, eating figs straight off the tree.

Paulo’s: dramatic walks in the Alps, bonding with the lads (my brother, brother-in-law and oldest nephew), having his phone on silent for 4 weeks, seeing his 3^rd sister for the first time in 3 years, late-night sessions with old friends.

What more do I need to say?

Boys on a plane

2008-08-14T14:40:00.000+02:00

On Saturday we are leaving for our holidays. Four weeks of fun, family and friends. Oh, and lots of flights. 8 in fact.

First stop is Johannesburg (2 and a half hours), where we'll be staying with the lovely family who made friends with Joaquim and me during our 6-week stay in Milpark hospital and made us feel human again. Joaquim is besides himself with anticipation at being reunited with his "best, best friend", 10 year-old Mekyla. Sebastian is unaware that anything is up. I'm wondering just how chilly it will be (it's mid-winter here, down South) as I have no closed shoes and can just about remember what it feels like to have cold feet.

Then we'll be stopping-off in London (10 hours) for three days, followed by a week in the Alps in France (2 hours), another brief stop in London (2 hours) and ten days in Portugal (2 hours) before flying back to Pemba via London (2 hours) and Joburg (10 hours plus 2 and a half hours). That makes 33 - count them - hours in a plane with two children under 5. (I wanted to take the train to the Alps but our tickets would have come to almost 1 grand, and on Ryanair they cost 280 quid. That's how easy it is to take the environmental option.) Much as I am ardently looking forward to the holidays, in fact Joaquim and I have been crossing the days off the calendar for getting on for 2 months now, this prospect is slightly scary. I have plasticine. I will take a couple of books. I will buy some cartons of juice. Our portable DVD player is - alas - broken. I'm a bit wary of sedating them as Joaquim is unbelievably heavy to carry. Any winning tips?

Kite surfing in paradise

2008-08-11T10:24:00.003+02:00

We have just had a fantastic week-end. Our good friends Carlo and Suzanna, owner-managers of the beautiful Il Pirata and Pirate Kites in Murrebue, hosted the Pemba Open: Mozambique's first ever kite-surfing competition. Anyone who knows me will be able to confirm that I am not an avid sports fan. I just about do World Cup footie and the opening ceremony of the Olympics. But this was different: 18 kiters from Pemba, Maputo, France and South Africa, a beautiful beach, an enthusiastic crowd, and - on Sunday at least - perfect conditions: 20 notts of windpower and a bright blue sky to set off the colourful kites. There were high jumps, long jumps, fancy tricks, spectacular wipe-outs, speed, foam and lots of laughs. The deserving freestyle winner was a local friend's cousin on holiday, but the Pemba crew did themselves justice by winning the course race, the "king of the air" (most time in the air) and heading up the "loosers' group" in freestyle. It was all very good-natured and loads of fun for competitors and spectators alike. Even the boys, when not playing with the gang of feral kids who roamed around to their hearts' content, were impressed: "Big jump! Biiiiig jump!" cried Sebastian, whilst Joaquim delightedly shook hands with the winner and offered his congratulations when we met him in the showers afterwards. He asked us two dozen times afterwards who the winner had been, just to make sure he had actually met him. Perfect pizza, camping under the trees and a damn good coffee at breakfast dotted the i's and crossed the t's. Couldn't have been better. We're looking forward to receiving 40 kiters next year...

If I were a bit cleverer I would post their website here (need a tutorial from my siter again), but it's: wwwdotmurrebuedotcom. Have a look. Will post photos when I have some.

Lake Kagavero

2008-07-31T08:51:00.004+02:00

Yesterday I went to Lake Kagavero. It was my fourth visit. Kagavero is a scenic little lake, home to a nesting pair of Fish Eagles and many other water birds, and a stopping off point for many more - or so I hope - during migration, as well as visiting hippos and assorted small wildlife. I'm intending to set up a picnic spot cum bush campsite on a rise overlooking the lake, and a bird hide down on the lake shore. The community are on-side, as long as I organise a blessing involving large amounts of goat meat and rice. The picnic site is great: funky overhanging vegetation and a lovely view, and the birdhide should be easy enough, although we may have to consider building it on stilts (a first for me) as the water level of the lake varies considerably between rainy and dry seasons. It's even strategically en-route to the Park's most sought-after destination, Ibo Island. But here's the catch. It's a mere 100km from Pemba to Kagavero, which should be a bonus, but at the moment it's a three-hour drive from hell, through massive holes, over vicious corregations and around unhelpfully placed boulders, all accompanied by vast quantities of red dust. Although I wasn't driving, my back is telling me all about it today. That's not a great selling point. Some days, my job seems more challenging than others.

A wee post

2008-07-18T13:40:00.004+02:00

Today, for the first time, Sebastian went to nursery without a nappy on. Thanks to the close attention of his carer, he came home wearing the same pants and shorts as when he left. Cause for celebration indeed!

Chew on this

2008-07-03T11:28:00.000+02:00

Six months ago, a 25kg bag of rice cost 280 mts.

Now it costs 600 mts (about ₤12.50).

600 mts represents about half many families’ average monthly income.

25kg of rice represents about a quarter of many families’ monthly consumption of staples.

Maize cost about 45 mts per10kg bucket last year at this time.

Maize now costs 75 mts per10kg bucket.

It is harvest time and prices should be coming down, but are instead going up.

Poor rains mean that most urban machambas have produced almost nothing this year, and in many rural areas heavy early rains and then an abrupt end to the rainy season means that first-sowing maize seedlings were washed away, whilst late-harvesting crops such as sorghum have also suffered and not matured.

The price of bread has increased twice this year, from 1,50 mts per roll to 2,50 mts per roll (about 5p).

Beans, onions, potatoes are all more expensive, fresh veg and fruit not so (but these are consumed principally by a wealthier minority).

Fuel prices have doubled over about 12 months, to around ₤1 per litre of petrol

The minimum wage is 1,700 mts, or approximately ₤35.

My neighbours are worried.

Bible studies

2008-07-02T15:14:00.003+02:00

One inescapable element of life in Pemba is that, as a white person, I am asked for money pretty much every day. Some of the petitioners are obvious beggars, most of whom I know, others apparently perfectly well-off random strangers. Many are the sob-stories they have poured in my ear, most of which I ignore, but the funniest approach so far was the man who acosted me the other day and asked for 10 mts (20p). When I turned him down, he replied (this is a loose translation) "Jesus said, those who feel shame will go hungry." Now I may not be fully up to speed on all of Jesus' pronouncements, but I'm prettty sure that that is a pretty unorthodox interpretation of his dictums. I blame the American missionaries.

PS: just in case I come across as a totally insensitive tight-fisted hag in this story, I would like to mention, for the record, that I do regularly dispense small amounts of cash to the beggars I know and who are genuinely needy. And just in case I come across as totally naive, I am aware that many of them spend it all on hard liquor, but probably so would I if my life was anything like theirs.

Spacial editing of the post below...

2008-06-23T11:29:00.003+02:00

Never can master placing words and pictures right, somehow it always gets out of sync. I'm sure you can work it out!

New house

2008-06-23T10:40:00.008+02:00

Well we've been in for a while, and we're still all loving it, so I thought you might like to see it. Apologies for the over-exposed pics of the boys' room, it was a very sunny day.

This is how it looks from the outside (at least in the rainy season, when the garden is green):

These are the two ends of our open-plan living room...

and kitchen:

This is our bedroom:

And this is the boys' room:

That's Sebastian having his afternoon nap btw.

Didn't think you needed to see the bathrooms.

As you can see, we need to do some decorating and get some more furniture and curtains and the like, but it's a wonderful, big, light, comfortable, cool (in both senses of the word) space and we LOOOOVE it.

In no particular order and for no particular reason

2008-05-26T13:18:00.002+02:00

5 things Joaquim loves:
His best friend Milan
Pancakes
Planes
Munchy Mike (his tiger cub)
The colour pink

5 things Sebastian loves:
His best friend Noa
Pasta
Cars (with a capital C, as in Disney-Pixar)
Kissing
Dragonflies

5 things Joaquim does not love:
Onion
Spiders
Cutting his hair
Wearing shoes
Hurrying up

5 things Sebastian does not love:
Bedtime
The straps on his car seat
Wearing clothes
Potatoes (except chips)
Washing his hair

5 things I love:
Their smell
Their feet
Their hugs
Their brotherhood
Their dad

Birthdays and bird days

2008-05-06T10:21:00.006+02:00

It's been a while, hasn't it? I have been submerged in birthday cake making, birthday party throwing, and - for a change of scene - bird watching.

Following hot on the heels of Sebastian's wonky plane came Joaquim's rather better rocket (easier design) and then on the day of the great pirate party, well, see below. My boys were born 2 years minus a week apart, which is convenient when it comes to parties as I only have to do one a year. Thank god. No doubt there will come a time when they insist on having one each, but for the time being they are content enough to share, and I'm happy with that as I seriously doubt that I have the stamina to do this twice in a 10 day stretch.

So there were two birthday boys. One had a rather extravagant curly moustache, which didn't last long in the paddling pool.

The other spent most of the party stark naked, apart from a brief appearance in a dino costume, which was not really in theme, but that's hard for a two-year-old to understand. Perhaps it was a sea-monster.

There was also a treasure hunt, pass the parcel, a pin-the-tail type game, a bouncy castle/paddling pool combo, more party games and a rather fabulous pirate ship cake (if I say so myself). We nearly burned the new house down with the canons, which were these candle-style sparkler-ish fireworky things which are probably illegal in any developed country, but looked fantastic stuck in the side of the cake and also set fire the paper tablecloth in a rather dramatic battle-scene simulation.

The kids were kept busy and sugar-fuelled, the parents had plenty of cold beer and wine, the boys got lots of presents, and it seems that a great time was had by all. But by the end of the day it was all I could do to stay out of bed until the boys were in theirs.

So the next day, I jumped ship and headed off to the bush with Malcolm, a visiting ornithologist who I last saw 11 years ago in Uganda. We spent a week with binoculars at hand, assessing the Park's potential for bird-watching and starting a training course for some of our rangers and community guides, who - we hope - will at some future point become top-class bird guides. I love spending time in the bush, and this time the pleasure was compounded by re-discovering an old friend and by finding out that we do indeed have great bird life and that this might just be the saving grace in terms of tourism for the interior of the park, where we don't have enough big game to compete with such neighbouring giants as Tanzania, Kenya, SA, Botswana, Namibia and the like. But who needs rhinos when you have brown-breasted barbets, Zanzibar red bishops and Livingstone's fly-catcher? None of which are the fellow in the pic below, but isn't he beautiful?

Happy Birthday Sebastian!

2008-04-18T11:45:00.003+02:00

Today number 2 turns 2. He celebrated by waking up about an hour earlier than usual, at 5am. This slightly dampened mum and dad’s enthusiasm for present opening, especially as we’d been up until midnight making his cake. But Joaquim was very gracious, “Look, Sebastian, presents!” and offered generous assistance in tearing open the wrapping paper (“But I’m just helping…”). Joaquim’s birthday is in one week, but as it’s hard to wait even that long when you’re only nearly four, he too got one small consolation present to keep him going.

How he looked then

We set off for nursery with Sebastian delighted clutching his new school rucksack, emblazoned with Sally and Lighting McQueen (“Car! Ka-tow! Ka-tow!”), which is nearly as big as he is, and a rather wonky, pale-blue, Smarties-decorated plane cake on the passenger seat. The boys were very impressed with the cake, thanks to their not very advanced years; it looks best from a distance, although I felt the silver-ball swirly S’s on its back and tail fin were a nice touch. Hope nobody chokes on one.

How he looks now (he's the one without the visible body hair).

Joaquim learns to fly

2008-03-31T15:14:00.001+02:00

It turns out he didn’t need the super-power after all.

“Look mum! Look at me fly!”

And with that he leaped from the edge of the pool and executed an impressive belly flop, as close to a dive as you can get without actually letting your head go in first. No armbands. Out of his depth. No problem.

Joaquim discovered on Saturday that he can swim. He did five lengths of the pool, and it’s a pretty big pool, maybe 8 metres. Not only can he swim, but he can dive down to pick things up off the bottom. His style is not yet great, but he’s certainly got the idea. I am SO proud.

Sebastian, meanwhile, thinks he can swim. In other words he’ll climb or jump into the pool or simply walk off the steps into deep water without a care in the world. Fine when he’s wearing armbands. Not so when he takes them off. I had to pluck him out several times on Saturday (oh yes, I stay close) but he continued, undeterred, coming up wide-eyed with surprise at his unexpected lack of buoyancy.

At least now I only have to watch one of them like a hawk.

Disco diva

2008-03-27T08:45:00.003+02:00

Last night I dreamed that I was going to perform a dance in public to "I will survive". In my dream I was supremely confident that my routine was going to be fantastic, although, of course, I had never actually practised it. Sadly, I woke up before I got to dance.

Any idea of what that was all about?

Is it a bird, is it a plane?

2008-03-13T11:39:00.000+02:00

“Mum, can you buy me some super-power so I can fly?”
“Where do you think I might be able to buy some super-power so you can fly?”
“Nampula?”

Pieces of eight

2008-03-13T11:36:00.000+02:00

On Friday we went to a pirate party. It was not, as you might expect, a children’s party, but rather a party to celebrate the official opening of ‘Il Pirata’, our friends Suzi and Carlo’s new Italian restaurant on the beach, and by far the best place in Pemba for pizza (ultra-thin and crispy) and kite surfing. (Never heard of it? Take one huge kite, one harness, one small board, and you’re away, very quickly in even a moderate wind.)

Joaquim is quite into pirates at the moment. He was very excited at the prospect: “Are we going to have treasure? And swords?” Yes indeed. Thursday afternoon we made treasure and swords and a treasure chest out of cardboard and silver foil. Friday afternoon we got dressed: stripy T-shirts, cut-off trousers, head-scarves, and, best of all, big curly painted-on moustaches. We very much looked the part, although Sebastian was not sure about the moustache and tried to rub it off.

When we got to the party which was already in full swing, however, Joaquim had second thoughts. He didn’t want to join the crowd, which was in grand pirate regalia, especially Gustav, who is a tall, densely-bearded South African and was sporting a fantastic costume complete with feathered hat, jacket, and boots. With some difficulty I persuaded Joaquim to come in, then found some other small pirates for him to play with, after which he spent a blissful night chasing girl pirates, burying and unearthing his treasure chest, waving his sword and making scary pirate faces. Sebastian slept for a bit, but then woke up and joined in with gusto, both boys only finally falling asleep at about midnight.

Meanwhile, I was drinking vodkas that were being poured by a Ukrainian friend, who obviously knew what he was doing. Great tunes were playing courtesy of another friend and his decks, and before you could say yo-ho-ho and a bottle of Smirnoff, there was no holding me back on the dance floor. Many people here in Pemba have known me for four years or less. For most of the past four years I have been pregnant or breastfeeding, and therefore abstemious. It has come as a surprise to these people that I am not as quiet as they thought, an opinion that was relayed to me several times on Friday night. Perhaps it had something to do with playing outrageous air guitar to ACDC, or perhaps it was my interpretation of “Lady Marmalade”. Could possibly have been both.

We eventually rolled home at 1am, and, bless their cotton socks, the boys slept in until 7.30. Joaquim’s waking words were “Where’s my treasure?” When I asked him if he’d enjoyed the pirate party, he replied: “I was a bit scared. I was a bit scared of that big man with the hat and the feather.” Pirates. They’re a bit scary, you know.

Busy busy busy

2008-02-29T14:39:00.000+02:00

Crazy busy at work, both me and Paulo. Promise to return when I have more time.

Cats and dogs

2008-02-11T15:27:00.000+02:00

Rain. In vast quantities. Which puts me in mind of a little rhyme I've always thought funny.

The rain it raineth on the just,
And also on the unjust fella.
But mainly on the just, because
The unjust steals the just's umbrella.

To which I might add:

The rain it raineth in my door,
It wets the walls and floods the floor,
It furs my clothes and makes them smell,
But, hey, at least it fills the well.

Pancake Day

2008-02-06T11:05:00.000+02:00

Pancakes are probably Joaquim’s all-time favourite food. His record is six at breakfast. So imagine his delight when I informed him at the week-end that Tuesday was Pancake Day. We usually eat them on Sundays for breakfast, and consumption goes thus: first 2 for Joaquim, then 1 for dad, 1 for Joaquim, 1 for mum, 1 for Joaquim etc. (they come out one at a time). Sebastian hasn’t yet quite realised how great they are.

Yesterday morning Joaquim asked me if we were going to make pancakes. “At dinner,” I said, “because we have no flour” (I have not replenished our stocks since the great fairy-cake binge that was Christmas). Paulo picked the boys up from nursery at lunchtime. He called me: “You’d better get some flour for pancakes. The first thing Jaoquim said to me was “Are we going to make pancakes?” I told him it was your department.” I go out, buy flour and milk. We have eggs.

That evening when I get home from work, Joaquim asks me “Did you bring lots of flour for pancakes?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s make them!”
We wash our hands. (Thank you “Big cook, Little cook” for making this an obligatory pre-cooking act.)
We crack eggs and mix them with flour. Joaquim adds a pinch of salt.
I pour milk and Joaquim mixes. Joaquim pours milk and I mix. A little effort with the whisk and most of the lumps disappear. It’s looking good. We’re ready.

The electricity goes off. This is not uncommon. It’s also pouring with rain (please remember my kitchen is outdoors, although covered.) Also not uncommon for this time of year.

I no longer own a handy head torch, and our solar lighting system has been relocated, perhaps somewhat prematurely, to the new house. It is pitch black. I convince Joaquim to go indoors, where dad is lighting candles and the boys’ very handy night-lights (thank you super-maman), to wait. I clamp my mobile between my teeth and use its paltry torch to illuminate the frying pan and begin to fry pancakes. As is traditional, the first one is a bit dodgy, but Joaquim wolfs it down. The second goes down too. Dad is allowed the next. My jaw starts to ache. Fortunately, Joaquim has had dinner and is not very hungry. After the third he’s had enough. Dad wants another, but as I start it an exhausted Sebastian comes and wraps himself around my legs, crying. I flip the pancake, serve it up, call it a day and dash, with Sebastian, 5 metres through the downpour to the house. Joaquim has a bath, falls asleep in the bath, is carried to bed. The electricity comes back on! Dad has had his dinner and is sleepily watching TV. He doesn’t understand why I get cross when he asks me to go and check whether water is coming into the new house. Sebastian insists on being carried on my back until he falls asleep (he’s used to being carried in a sarong and loves it). I have my dinner. No pancakes for me. I am beyond caring.

However, all is not lost. We have plenty of left-over batter for breakfast today, hooray! (I know, I know, that’s not the point, it’s Lent, but we’re not a very religious lot). I have the first. Joaquim has four.

Really exciting post

2008-02-01T15:57:00.000+02:00

I really feel like I should be writing some great posts about dramatic floods, political unrest or some such typical African story. However, both these events are happening a long way from here, and there is really very little to report from Pemba. Let’s see: Sebastian has started going to nursery with Joaquim and seems to enjoy it greatly. His latest words include no, pasta (that was yesterday), juice, and ‘bong” (any kind of bump or bounce). Joaquim is fine, and is learning to swim without armbands – at his instigation – at the hotel pool. He’s very proud of being able to swim a width unassisted, and so am I! (No, I can already swim widths, and indeed lengths, unassisted, I am proud of him.) It’s a bit of a doggy paddle, but it’s a good start. Paulo is busy with a number of projects, including the very start of our beach development: Chuiba Palms Beach Villas. Watch this space. Speaking of building: no, we’re not in yet, you don’t need to know more than that do you? And as for me, I’m throwing myself at my new job – Tourism Officer for the whole park and not just community-based tourism officer – with some late-come New Year’s enthusiasm.

Edge-of-your-seat stuff, I’m sure you’ll agree. I’ll try to make something up for next time, it’s got to be better than this. Toodle-pip.

In case you were wondering where I'd gone

2008-01-18T11:41:00.000+02:00

My laptop has all but died on me, with a resultant reduction in my ability to work, and - more importantly - blog. However, as of today I have a brand new gleaming desktop at the office and so normal service will now be resumed. Or it would be, if Iwere not going to be away from my desk for the whole of next week. Will try harder from then on.

Happy Christmas!

2007-12-21T10:02:00.000+02:00

Today is my last day at work before the Christmas holidays, and I'm looking forward to a well-earned break. I've succeeded in making mango jam, decorating the Christmas tree with the boys, baking (and eating) biscuits and fairy cakes - this is one of Joaquim's favourite activities of the moment, and buying all but one of my Christmas presents. Not bad going. I'm pretty sure that much of my time over the next week will be spent chasing the plumber, the painter and the builders so that we can actually move into our new house before the end of the year. If I succeed it will be worth it! I'll keep you posted.

Meanwhile, I thought I'd just wish you all (yes, that's all three of you) a very happy Christmas and New Year and see you some time after the 3rd of January.

Jaws

2007-12-11T14:04:00.000+02:00

Ok, you didn’t like the politics, so let’s move back to the safer grounds of domestic trivia, with a little run-down of the week-end.

Saturday was a busy day. In the morning we attended the graduation ceremony of Maria Moneiro. We met Maria in our very first months in Mozambique, as we camped out in her uncle’s back yard up on the Makonde plateau, trading cashews with our single-cab hilux. She was pretty, plump and sweet-natured, studying in the local secondary school, and earning some pocket money doing our washing and that kind of thing. Soon afterwards, she moved to Pemba to finish her education, and we offered to pay for her to do so. She had a baby, missed a year of school, but then went straight back in. When she decided to train as a teacher at Pemba’s teacher training college we contined to support her financially, and on Saturday we were there to witness the culmination of her efforts. I admit to a tear in my eye; it’s been quite a struggle for her as she comes from a poor rural family and single motherhood and studying are not easy things to juggle. She was obviously extremely pleased that we were there, and I felt a great sense of pride in her acheivement and a certain amount of satisfaction at the results of what has been essentially a very small investment on our part. Small gestures can make a huge difference to people’s lives here.

Elements common to other graduation ceremonies I have attended were the graduates smartly turned out in black and white, the crowds of proud relatives, the heat, the grandees handing out the diplomas and the festive yet (initially) formal atmosphere. Elements unique to this ceremony were the singing (national anthem but also a rather moving teacher’s hymn sung with great tunefulness and emotion by the graduates), drumming and dancing (following the handing out of diplomas) and joyful ululations (during the handing out). I know I’m getting soft in my old age, but it was a very emotional event. It was clear that for many of these families the professional qualification of a family member was a very important event, one that had cost them a lot in terms of financial and emotional commitment and perhaps even the first time this had happened. A far cry from my own Cambridge graduation, which was emotional too, but in a different way.

Then in the afternoon was Joaquim’s school play. The set was beautiful, but the costumes were absolutely breathtaking. Martie, who runs the school, was a professional upholsterer in her previous life, and the lady can sure wield a sewing machine. There were delighful mermaids, colourful fish, a red crab, a blue sea-horse and a delicate pink star fish. But the stars of the show were Joaquim, an impressive black and white orca, and Milan (his best friend), a scary grey shark. All was going well – in the way of performances by 3, 4 and 5 year-olds – until Joaquim’s big entry. Overwhelmed by stage fright, he refused to go on, despite Martie, Paulo and my coaxing. Then, when he realised they had continued and finished without him, he burst into tears: “But I didn’t go (sob) I didn’t go and go grrrrr to the fish (sob) I didn’t go…” I was nearly in tears myself, so intense was his disappointment. He did at least go and join the group for the singing afterwards, although he didn’t actually sing, and after that he also cried “But I didn’t sing…”. It was heartbreaking, especially as he had apparently been one of the best in rehearsals, going at it with great energy and enthusiasm, and he had been so excited about being a shark. I didn’t know what to do to make him feel better, until my friend Gal (mother of Joaquim’s friend Yael) came over and asked if he wanted to come to her house to light some candles and eat some cake, at which point his tears dried and he beamed a happy “Yes!”.

And so we spent the evening with our Israeli friends celebrating Hannuka with candles and doughnuts (Jewish readers, care to deepen my understanding of the event?), and Joaquim was entirely restored. Since then, he has only talked about it in a positive way, so obviously no long-term trauma there. Amazingly resilient, these little people.

Bear baiting

2007-11-30T08:57:00.000+02:00

Am I alone in finding Vladimir Putin a very scary man? I’ve been following his political reforms (increasingly centralised power) repeated ratcheting-up of military posturing and indeed threatening behaviour very much aimed at the “West”: huge financial investments, re-starting long-suspended surveillance flights, upping long-range missiles and so on. Now I read in today’s on-line Guardian (would someone please remind me how to put in links?) that the forthcoming elections are being rigged through massive intimidation and bribery of voters, in particular state employees, but also students and the general public. Ballot stuffing is predicted, international observers number a puny 400, the evening news is showing 16 minute slots of his party’s electoral rallies. I am not surprised by any of this, but I do find it worrying. Obviously it is naïve to believe that Russia can entirely break free of Soviet-style authoritarianism in a matter of a few years, but it looks very much to me like they are regressing, with Putin ever more powerful and untouchable.

It’s difficult to know what an appropriate response should be. Antagonising Putin risks all-out hostility and withdrawal of cooperation on many important issues, and there is of course the real politik considerations of having them on side in the war on terror. (I don’t want to get into that one here, suffice to say I am not sold on the war on terror.) On the other hand, it’s a huge and powerful country, massively armed and potentially dangerous. Shouldn’t there be some murmurings from the international community?

Home alone

2007-11-27T14:48:00.000+02:00

I suppose it’s not all that surprising but after such a long break I seem to have got out of the habit of blogging regularly, and then I end up with too much to say and too little time to write it in, and also the worry that you’ll get bored and tune out before your each the…er, hello?

So before I launch into what I’ve been up to, I’ll just share a couple of pieces of news with you. My sister, no longer very struggling author Marie, has just sold her book ‘Gods Behaving Badly’ (as if you didn’t know) to Ben Stiller’s production company to be turned into a TV series. It will still have to get past the pilot stage, but nevertheless, exciting stuff! And my dear friend Lizzie, whose great blog Switzerlady has generated a cult following, has been reborn as Ganda Lady (she’s moved to Uganda) and I wish I could remember how to do links so I could send you all whizzing over to her new place. Anyway, you can always google it.

Meanwhile we’ve been having a fairly hectic time of it since I returned from SA. Paulo is involved in something called the Initiativa das Terras Comunitarias (Community Land Initiative), set up to help local communities register their land rights in order to be able to utilise them to better and more lucrative effect. At this stage, he’s implementing a series of meetings and film showings with community leaders, government bodies and the communities themselves. Not, as you may have guessed, in Pemba, and indeed not even close to Pemba. The furthest away he is working is on the border with Tanzania, quite literally as he’s been bathing in the waters of the great Rovuma river which is the border. That’s about 500km from here. So to cut a long story short, of the 17 working days since I’ve been back, he’s been away for 9, and this week he’ll be away all week. As for me, I’ve also been away on Ibo and Quirimba islands – it was my turn last week – for 4 days. So, we’ve had 4 working days and 3 week-ends together. This is quite emotionally stressful after a 6 week separation, then add in the fact that both being at home, i.e. working full time and caring for two under-4s, one of whom still needs special attention, and travelling for work are tiring and stressful in their own way (Paulo recently drove 1000km in 4 days) and you’ve got two rather worn-down adults looking forward to a week off at Christmas with no travelling and minimal stress. Enough whingeing. We’ll survive.

The week before last, when Paulo was only away for three days, I was able to make a flying visit to Meluco. The idea was to inspect the guesthouse that we’ve been putting some money into rehabilitating and consult with the owner on next steps. She wasn’t there, in fact she was in Pemba, but the house was looking much better, definitely meeting minimum standards for minimum-standard tourists. What saved the day (it’s a bit frustrating to drive 7 hours in order not to meet the person you wanted to meet) was the fact that Meluco was celebrating 35 years as a town. So, in typical fashion, everyone was drunk or on their way, and there was a lot of drumming and traditional dancing. The variety of drums is always astonishing: huge great bass drums made out of oil barrels cut in half with a tightly-stretched goat skin laid over the end, tiny little drums that have a wooden spike to fix them to the ground and which are vigorously beaten with thin sticks, round drums and hexagonal ones, deep, high, fast and slow. I’ve seen most of the dances before, but it’s always enjoyable and this time there was one where all the young men were dressed as women (“Why?” “Because they have to dress as women for this dance.”) and another where they were also playing little wooden flutes. But by far the highlight as far as I was concerned was a little group off to one side who appeared at first glance to be playing a tape of traditional music. Far from it! They were in fact playing home-made instruments through two clapped out old tape players that were serving as amplifiers, and a megaphone as a speaker. Three guitarists, including bass and lead, playing guitars made of shaped planks of wood with a few strings attached, accompanied a singer/rapper whose mic was made of an old torch with something rigged up inside, and kept time with the drummer, whose drum kit comprised of a bass drum (as above, but with pedal), two traditional drums, and two cymbals hammered out of sheet metal of some kind. It was FANTASTIC. I have lost the cable that downloads photos from my camera, but I’ll make a plan and post a photo here as soon as I can. Got to see it to believe it.

On to Ibo and Quirimba, last week, where I did lots of good work and spoke to lots of interesting people and also spent an hour reading in the shade of two huge, ancient mango trees. I believe I have mentioned my love of mangoes before, but I feel I should add that mango trees also give the best shade of any tree, and as such I was in a good place to enjoy my novel (a bizarre book called Wild Sheep Chase). My love of mangoes, however, pales into insignificance next to the enthusiasm of the local children. It’s an annual feast: free, bountiful, wonderfully sweet and juicy fruit literally falling from the heavens. A dozen or so dirty kids were hanging out under the trees where I was sitting. The rustle of leaves and thud of a dropping fruit triggered a scrambling flurry of bony elbows and knees culminating in a dusty dive into the sand to grab the prize. Then a triumphant grin and a sticky face. As the children are spread out under the tree and as the mangoes fall randomly, there is a pretty even distribution of fruit, although the bigger kids often get the better of the smaller in a one-on-one. Usually there is no squabble over the winner, although I did see one foul: a nasty tackle from the rear which drew a sharp reprimand from a watching adult. The fallen child lay in the dirt and wept rather over-dramatically, but she kept the mango. I also got lucky: a mango fell near me and the kids were too scared to come and claim it. It was delicious.

M is for Mango

2007-11-13T13:28:00.000+02:00

Looks like we’re in for a hot “summer”. Well, it’s always hot at this time of year, but this year it’s kicking in hard. On the other hand, and this is no scant consolation, it’s mango season again. I have already posted here about mangoes and how they fill me with joy (and my teeth with hairs), but really, is there anything more wonderful than that succulent orange flesh, tangy and sweet and juicy? And, as we’re going to spend Christmas here for the first time in 3 years, and the office will be closed for a week, I may have time to make mango jam this year. Mango jam is breathtakingly fantastic, and extremely easy to make, although I will need some help in keeping the boys away from the huge vat of bubbling sugar and fruit. In fact, I’m planning a very homely Christmas this year, and I need your help. I want biscuit/cookie recipes to which to apply my new star-shaped cookie cutters. I anticipate much fun with J and S (although perhaps I shall enjoy it the most) and then tins full of yummy golden biscuits. If someone sends me a good recipe that is. Please?

My book club

2007-11-09T14:06:00.000+02:00

As I said, probably the best thing about being in hospital was having time to read, something in short supply at home. I read 8 novels (8! O bliss), of varying quality. Of these, I strongly recommend:

The Road, by Cormack McCarthy

Utterly bleak and totally without hope but as always beautifully written and absolutely compelling. Stayed up late to read it in one sitting.

Cold Mountain, by Charles Frazier

You’ve probably seen the film, unlike me, but the book is great: beautiful, understated, pretty bleak but full of hope and redemption.

Sacred Games, by Vikram Chandra

A massive, rollicking, hugely entertaining romp through present-day Mumbai: gangsters, cops, actresses, prostitutes, gurus, it’s got it all, and it’s very well written to boot. Not one for those who don’t like 3 inch spines and small print.

Suite Française, by Irene Nemirovsky

An exceptional classic, dealing with a period of French history I had never really engaged with, that draws you into each private drama, and brings home the tragedy of the author’s own untimely death. I desperately wanted to know how it was all going to turn out.

Have only read a quarter of a Guardian Weekly since I got back.

Milpark Hospital, Johannesburg...

2007-11-06T15:06:00.000+02:00

...is where I’ve been living for the past 6 weeks. Joaquim had a horrible accident: on the 21st of September he fell into our rubbish pit where for two days previously we had been burning lots of garden waste: branches, leaves etc. As a result the pit was full of hot coals and he ended up with 3rd degree burns on both feet. It was horrific, I don’t want to describe it. We flew to Jo’burg where an ambulance was waiting for us and we checked in at Milpark. At which point a lot of very competent and caring people took over and Joaquim began to recover. We avoided skin grafts, just. The plastic surgeon was great, keeping me informed about progress at every dressing change (first 48 hours then 72) and then at the end allowing me to stay in theatre so I could have a look. By then the worst had long passed, and I could see the skin healing at 3 day intervals.

Joaquim was amazing. Once the pain had gone (about 2 weeks) he was cheerful, uncomplaining, patient, playful and positive. He went off to theatre for dressing changes with a smile, put the mask over his nose and mouth and took deep breaths – pausing to tell me it was yucky – and passing out with minimal fuss. He didn’t try to walk until the doctor said he could, and then was brave enough to put his feet down and have a go. Once he could leave his bed we went to the zoo (4 times), the park, shopping malls and so on. And we made some new friends: Chris, Dez and Mekyla, a lovely South African family who took us in with open arms and took us out for week-end “jols”: picnics, candle dipping, monkey park. Joaquim loved it and Mekyla in particular, who, although 12 years old, was incredibly sweet and lovely to him. Meeting them and the 10 day stretch that super-maman (that’s my mother for those of you who don’t read Marie’s blog) spent with us to give me moral support, were the highlights of our stay. And the only other good point was that I read more in six weeks than in the last six months. Apart from that I spent a lot of time playing with plastic dinosaurs, cars, plasticine and mega-blocs, colouring in and reading children’s books.

We were both very happy to be back in Pemba last Saturday, and were met by a very excited Sebastian and a beaming Paulo. Home at last. Joaquim is very nearly better. His feet are still bandaged to protect the new skin, which is thin and fragile. I change his dressings every three days. In about 10 days we’ll progress to socks and slippers, and a few weeks after that, if he’s comfortable, soft shoes. For six months we have to be very careful with the sun, and the surgeon says that although they will look healed, they won’t actually be fully healed for 12-18 months. It’s a long and slow process. Nonetheless, he’s already walking with support and playing with his friends at nursery (he was determined to go back on Monday and his teacher says he’s doing fine) and at home. I reckon when the bandages come off he’ll regain full mobility very quickly. On the whole, we’ve been very lucky, he should have no or minimal scarring and hopefully no long-term trauma. Although he’s a little sensitive (cries easily, easily startled), he’s generally happy and cheerful so I think he will soon be fine, if very wary of matches, candles, stoves, hot drinks, etc. (maybe not such a bad thing). So the long-term perspective is very good.

And now we both want to move on and get back to normal, so I will not be saying much more on the subject here.

Could do better

2007-09-18T11:23:00.000+02:00

Did you catch last week’s two extremely depressing simultaneous publications? Those of you wishing to remain cheerful, look away now.

Firstly, IUCN’s red data list, which looks at the state of the world’s biodiversity at regular intervals. Without fail, every animal, plant or other living organism in the world is at least as badly off, if not considerably worse off, than before. I lie. There is one bird that has been moved down one level of endangeredness. Certain corals, gorillas, orang-utangs, tigers, and lots of birds lead the list of most likely to be extinct within a few decades. Why? Overwhelmingly, because of human activity.

Secondly, the IISS’s report on international security, which shows Al Quaeda stronger than ever, Islamic fundamentalist terrorist organisation growing by leaps and bounds, and young men signing up by the dozens across the globe for martyrdom in the fight against the morally bankrupt West. Another 9/11 is perfectly possible they say.

What a wonderful contribution we as a species are making to – as far as we know – the only living planet in the known universe.

JJ

2007-09-10T15:01:00.000+02:00

Introducing the newest member of our family.
Is she cute or what?

Granny and Grandpa

2007-09-10T14:55:00.000+02:00

We’ve just had a fleeting visit from my parents, en route to a conference in Nairobi. It’s always lovely when people come to see us, I certainly feel the distance and isolation out here. And they brought us some exotic treats: couscous, wholegrain mustard, cheese, pop-up books for the boys, not to mention an exceptionally bulky and heavy lamp from IKEA which – quite frankly – I’m sure I would have dumped on the way. For which THANK YOU!

I think the highlights of the visit for Joaquim were:

bacon and pancakes for breakfast at the hotel where Granny and Grandpa were staying (our spare room – alas – not yet ready)
swimming pool at the same
a day-long boat trip that included catching an 18kg yellow-fin tuna (he talked about that for several days)
riding in the boot of the car with Grandpa (what a thrill, has been asking for a repeat ever since)

For Sebastian

the bacon, again
the pool, where he gained a lot of confidence – he finds the sea a bit big and scary
the pop-up book full of construction machinery (brrrrm brrrrm)

For me:

the bacon, of course!
managing to wangle my work load so I could take my parents to see a couple of projects I’m working on, and have a night in a top-end eco beach lodge along the way
being with lots of people I love at the same time.

Zzzzzzzzzzz

2007-08-23T15:22:00.000+02:00

Oh how I wish I wasn't writing this - yawn. Sebastian, who had been sleeping so well, has started waking up again (sometimes several times a night). All he wants is to sleep on my chest in my bed. No, no no. Shouldn't really complain as I do have two wonderful little boys, but really, surely I deserve some uninterrupted sleep by now. Roll on the week-end, I think I shall pay our fantastic nanny some overtime to take the boys to her house (just down the road) on Sunday morning for a few hours. Always works wonders.

Lil' rocker

2007-08-20T14:12:00.000+02:00

Things I wish you could see (a new occasional series):

1. Joaquim playing air guitar to my sister's latest CD as we drive to school.

Back at last

2007-08-16T14:31:00.001+02:00

Swisslil has tweaked my conscience. She's in bed suffering from hideous morning, afternoon and night sickness and is likely to be so for some time and yet she manages to update her blog. I have no excuse.

Or maybe one. Joaquim is sick, again. Respiratory tract infection, maybe laryngitis. If it were not for the reassurances of the paediatrician, I would be really quite worried, as it seems he gets everything going. In fact, the next time we spend a long period in Europe, I may take him to a homeopath and try to discover if there is some underlying cause for this tendency to have terrible coughs. We've had a couplke of bad nights, but it's not all bad, he's taking his meds and improving daily.

As is our house. While we were away, little happened. Nothing unusual there. Since we got back however, the roofers have been thatching like crazy and it's really starting to look fantastic. Builders still have a long way to go: no bathrooms, kitchen or floor yet, but it's coming together. Our carpenters have made some solid, handsome doors, and the electrician has finished his installation. A few mistakes have been made, inevitably, but it's starting to look like the house I was dreaming of when I first sketched it many months ago. I even know where I'm going to put the beautiful hand-painted tiles I bought in Portugal.

Work is fine. Again, not much progress made in my absence, more being made now. I have not yet lost that just-back-from-holiday enthusiasm and energy, so I must make the most of it while it lasts. Going out to check progress next week.

One shocking piece of news though. Our housekeeper's daughter - early 20s and 8 months pregnant with her second child - is HIV positive. She just found out. Her mother is calm, as she is an HIV-AIDS activist for her church and as such well-informed, but nonetheless it's a terrible blow. Pemba, as the Provincial capital, has an anti-retroviral treatment programme for those who develop AIDS, so in that way she's lucky, but luck has really nothing to do with it. My fear is that there are so many more young people out there, infected but without knowing it, and nobody seems to be changing their behaviour. Sorry to be grim.

To end on a cheerful note, my sister's book, Gods Behaving Badly, has reached number 19 on the bestsellers'list. Fantastic or what? Get out there and buy a copy, if you haven't done so already. It's a rollicking good read.

Still on holiday

2007-08-04T20:24:00.000+02:00

So my wonderful holiday continues in the UK with a visit from my sister and her 4 kids (much mayhem in my parents' garden and Joaquim covering his cousin Katie with kisses), my other sister's book launch (great party and am I bursting with pride? oh yes), more parks and unexpected fantastic sunny weather.

But, either LAM or Kenya Airways or possibly both have made a mess of our booking, which has effectively been cancelled, leaving us without seats on Monday's flight back, although they may squeeze us in at the last minute, which means we may have to stay a few days longer. Why am I not too gutted at the prospect?

Ola malta!

2007-07-21T21:44:00.000+02:00

No, not hello, Malta.

It means Hi guys! in Portuguese, but it's kind of cool in a way that "hi guys" never will be. Great holiday so far: Oceanarium (third visit, just as good, both boys loved it, will definitely go again), park (lots of, but with a great tower slide that J loves and P and S do together to mutual delight), zoo (today, lots of growling with the tigers, hooting at the monkeys and J awestruck by the dolphin display), lounging (family, friends, food, drink, all the usuals), late nights (Lisbon-ers, or little lettuces as they are rather sweetly known here, love late nights), bacalhau, and those fantastic little custard puff-pastry tarts.

What´s not to love?

Reasons to be cheerful

2007-07-12T14:46:00.002+02:00

Just in case you were worried, the boys are much better, thanks, Sebastian is sleeping very well, my breasts, although a shadow of their former glory, no longer hurt, I have managed to do more in the last week than in the previous month at work, the house is looking better and better, and we're going on holiday in two days. Yippee! Much cause for celebration, wouldn't you agree?

I doubt whether I'll have much time to blog whilst away, so see you in August, if you can be bothered to wait for my return.