Eva goes to Ibo
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.
Labels: Eva, Ibo, working mum
Just and bit of an update
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.
Labels: Ibo, Joaquim, mangoes, Paulo, Pemba life, Sebastian, waxing lyrical, working mum
Land of contrasts
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".)
Labels: environment, waxing lyrical, working mum
Headless chicken
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!
Labels: birds, birthdays, Joaquim, Paulo, Pemba life, Sebastian, working mum
Seafood/soulfood
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.
Labels: environment, Pemba life, working mum
City living
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).
Labels: politics, working mum
Pancake Day
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.
Labels: food, Joaquim, Paulo, Sebastian, working mum
To work or not to work?
Just read an article about how by the age of 3 children from disadvantaged (is that now the polite way of saying poor?) backgrounds are a year behind those from middle-class (and mostly white) families in terms of language and other pre-school development. Sad, if not very surprising. But what is especially noteworthy is the following:
72% of children with a single mother (of 15,500 children) are living below the poverty line (under 60% average national income). And, both children from Scotland and middle-class children are doing better than their peers and in both groups they are more likely to have working mothers, and therefore have more out-of-home care.
It is quite clear then that families with single mothers need extra help on several fronts, as 72% poverty is shockingly high. But also, I have to re-assess my opinion of the pressure put on single mums to go out and work. I always thought that perhaps this was not in the child’s best interest, that it might be better to have mum at home spending more time with them then out working and the kids at nursery. Apparently not.
Also nice for once to read something that doesn’t make working mothers feel guilty but in fact suggests we are doing the right thing for our children. Unless of course you remember the research that says children who spend more time in nursery are more disruptive at primary school. Damned if you do and damned if you don’t.
Labels: working mum
