Technically
classes were scheduled this week. If you
remember how the last trimester started, it should come as no surprise that
there weren’t actually any students or teachers at school. In fact, my student and neighbor, Marisa,
stopped by the school to find just 13 students.
This is the reason why I didn’t feel guilty not going into school
yesterday and why my “one week” break turned into a nearly three week break
(the last week of the first trimester was, quite frankly, a joke).
As a result, I have been enjoying
some extra, lazy days off. Mireya and I
didn’t even leave the house the other day.
Early that evening, I was sitting at the kitchen table working on my 24th
consecutive page of a puzzle book and listening to my Ipod, my glasses
discarded somewhere nearby. It was dark
outside but I hadn’t yet closed the door because it’s just starting to get cold
in Montepuez and we have been enjoying the fresh air.
In middle of figuring out an anagram
“virgo,” I saw some movement out of the corner of my eye. I look up to see the shape of a man in our
doorway and instantly I’m doing and thinking a million things at once. Where are my glasses? Take off headphones. How long has he been
standing there? Why is he standing in
the doorway – why didn’t he ‘censa’ from a respectable distance from the
porch? Do I know him? Check my capulana is secure around my waist
(I’ve already been caught today in my workout spandex by the school janitor who
visits a little too frequently). Nope, I don’t know him. Smile and try to act like I didn’t just jump
out of my skin.
The guy seemed to be about my age
and despite standing in my house uninvited, had a friendly smile on his face
that said he wasn’t there to cause trouble. I said ‘Boa noite’ but he didn’t
reply. He excitedly shook my hand with
the ultimate secret Mozambican handshake that I still haven’t quite mastered
(normal handshake, switch to arm wrestle hand hold, swtich back to normal, then
snap with the thumbs and dramatically pull away). He looks around the room
before making an hourglass shape around his body and then a questioning gesture
with his hands, still smiling ear to ear.
Deaf. This should be fun. I took the hourglass shape to mean that he
was looking for Mireya, not me. I go to
grab Mireya and a little notebook.
Mireya remembered him from a similar
visit last year and so we began a half-signed, half-written exchange. Brighton Mirige was born in Zimbabwe. He came to live with his brother who works in
the ruby mines just outside of Montepuez.
Anyways, just about as fast as he appeared in our doorway, he
disappeared. Huh. This place is weird.
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