Risk, Opportunity and Education

Living as an American in the country ranked 184th out of 187 on the Human Development Index, it is nearly impossible not to be hyper aware of the differences that exist between life the US and Mozambique. Many are physical and obvious: the deficit of paved roads outside of major cities, an unreliable power grid even in more developed areas, poor-to-non-existent sewer or drainage systems. But the intangible differences become clear after spending some time here, talking with people who grew up here, and of course learning the country's history. One of the most glaring differences is the educational system.

Escola Secundária de Namaacha

First a little commentary on some cultural differences. Most of the Peace Corps training staff is Mozambican, including all of our language teachers, who also serve as "cross-cultural facilitators." One of the most interesting aspects of training has been hearing from them about cultural values and norms. They have been invaluable resources regarding the traditions surrounding birth, death and marriage, explaining some of the practices we may not be comfortable asking our host families about. Recently, we had a conversation with a group of teachers that really stuck with me. We started out comparing how Americans and Mozambicans regard the older members of their families. Frequently, many generations live together in one home here. Our teachers explained that older people are seen as "libraries" here: keepers of history and tradition. Families tend to sprawl in Mozambique, as people absorb children when they lose brothers, sisters or cousins, or sometimes just because a town may have a good school or a father is working in a different province. People look after all of their family members; when someone is doing well, they help out the others because they know that the care will be returned if they fall on hard times.

Later in the day, the conversation turned the concept of risk. I tend to feel that Americans as a culture value taking a risk. Our country as it exists today was founded and populated mostly by immigrants, many of whom took great risks just to arrive there. Although the American Dream is based on hard work and perseverance, we seem to hold people who risk it all for success in high regard. And don't always look well on those afraid to take a chance. Our teacher thought for a little bit before responding that the way he saw it, for every Mozambican tempted to take a chance on an opportunity, there is likely to be an older person in their family reminding them of how many others are depending on them. A risk can't easily be seen as an individual decision with a large, tightly-knit family depending on the outcome. He paused and then added, "And when you take a risk, you can expect to be rewarded, right?"

One of our great Language and Cultural Facilitators

It was a great point and really made me think about what exactly a risk entails in the US. We simply have more wealth and opportunities to spread around. In Mozambique, there just is not as much that makes taking a chance worthwhile; there aren't as many rewards. On the flip side, America also has many more safety nets in place for its citizens. When someone takes a huge financial risk, they will usually have something to fall back on: bankruptcy protection, welfare, a homeless shelter.  None of those are great options, but compared to the support available here, they are at least options. The very environment holds more risk here: bacteria in the water, landmines left from the civil war, Malaria running rampant. If you don't have the means to protect yourself from these threats, why take on more risk voluntarily? Families have created their own safety nets and support systems, why endanger them?

This of course leads to the question, "Why would a bunch of well-off Americans leave the comfort and security of their homes for a country where danger lurks around every corner?" I think that most of us here had at least someone out of their friends and family ask them something similar. The truth is, we come here with the same safety net of American citizenship and governmental support we had at home. While we face more daily challenges here, we can opt out at any moment, unlike the Mozambicans we live with. Additionally, before any of us are placed in a community, it is thoroughly inspected for safety and security. Any area with uncleared ordinance is immediately out. Mozambicans may live there, but we won't. No volunteers are placed in cities with high crime rates. Although Malaria is endemic throughout the whole country, PC volunteers are provided with weekly or daily prophylaxis, a rapid test and treatment on hand. If PC staff finds out someone isn't taking their prophylaxis, this is grounds for administrative separation. We are given a water filter, a mosquito net, a well-stocked medical kit, and most importantly, two phone numbers that allow us to reach an English-speaking doctor 24-hours a day, 7 days  week. In a country with 889 doctors serve the whole population (that is 1MD for every 30,000 people), we have three doctors treating about 200 PC volunteers. If they can't treat us, we will be medevac'ed out in the blink of an eye. My mind was blown when I heard that a volunteer had been flown to South Africa with severe malaria-induced kidney failure in 2008, because there was no dialysis machine in all of Mozambique. And this is a country where malaria accounts for 29% of deaths.

But beyond any of this, what separates us from most members of the communities that we will serve is what we already had when we arrived: education and technical skills.

A little detour into some history: Portuguese colonization, followed by a brutal civil war, left the country severely lacking in the building blocks of a modern nation state. Throughout the colonial period, much of Mozambique's infrastructure was built by a combination of the Portuguese colonists and other European powers, who had a vested interest in developing Mozambique's ports. The British and Portuguese concessionary companies also ran enormous plantations on slave labor until the 20th century and continued to use forced labor until it was abolished in 1961. The conditions were so extremely harsh that many Mozambicans simply up and left the country. The Portuguese also excluded indigenous Mozambicans from the education system they developed in the colony. Mozambicans were sent instead to separate missionary schools overseen by the Catholic Church, but set up in such a way that very few could progress beyond the first three years of education.

Escola Secundária de Manjangue

 When Mozambique gained its independence, most of the Portuguese left, simply abandoning their houses and businesses and frequently destroying any animals or equipment they left behind. At independence, less than 10% of land was being used to grow crops, most of the population was illiterate (over 90%), and there were not even 1,000 indigenous Mozambicans high school graduates. There were 87 doctors in the country, 6 economists, and 2 agronomists. Much of the infrastructure that had been build was destroyed in the ensuing civil war, leading to an even lower rate of land use - down to 4% of land under cultivation in 1988 to provide less than 10% of the food needed. Almost half of the country's clinics had been forced closed due to the violence and only one of four rail lines was still running.

I was here to celebrate the 20th anniversary of peace in Mozambique. Needless to say, it has been a long trudge uphill to begin to recover since the war ended. While the economy has been growing rapidly (averaging 7%) over the last decade, with increasing foreign investment due to rich mineral deposits, the country remains poor and the education system still faces many challenges. According to USAID, the adult literacy rate in 2008 was 47% (32% for Mozambican women). A study in the northern province of Cabo Delgado found that 59% of third grade students were unable to read a single word and 26% of primary school teachers working in the province had no training.

Namaacha celebrates 20 years of peace

So while I did take a risk by quitting a good job to come here, it is a risk tempered by the very life I left behind. I arrived here with the benefit of a stable, supportive family willing to mail me just about anything I might need; friends with the means to reach out and offer words of encouragement from thousands of miles away; a government willing to foot the bill to keep me healthy and happy; and years of quality education that provide me with the wherewithal to make my time here of benefit to those around me. All in all, I think I will come out better off for my time here and with an even greater appreciation for all that I have in my life. Something I love about Peace Corps is that it isn't about giving money to countries in need, but "helping the people of interested countries in meeting their need for trained men and women." In other words, spreading that most valuable of resources: education.