Peace Corps Service in Mozambique

2009-05-29T01:19:00.000-07:00

Teaching…
Just finishing up my first trimester of my second year and what a difference a year makes. Right now, I consider myself an adequate teacher where last year at this time I was just a blubbering idiot. In other words, I think I have drastically improved. Im teaching 10th and 8th grade biology this year and I have 7 turmas (classes) of around 50 to 55 students per. I still am encountering similar problems with rampant cheating, lack of effort, and lack of support from the school director, but that’s all out of my control. I’ve been more consistent in engaging my students and keeping their attention, one of the major keys to teaching. Also, I think I have been better at simplifying complicated subjects. Also I realize that I cant assume students have heard about a certain topic or word and I will explain everything to avoid gaps in the subjects. This is all stuff that you just pick up with experience, which is making my second year much much easier than my first year. In tenth grade were going over DNA, Chromosomes, Mitosis and Meiosis, and students are getting really into the subjects. Students will always ask huge genetics questions that are way off topic but thought provoking like, “why do parents who are tall sometimes have children who are short?” or “how can two people of one race have children that are of a different race?”. I really enjoy trying to answer them, because it’s a chance for me to explain on the fly genetics topics in Portuguese and also because the students are genuinely very interested in them. Here are some pictures of me teaching one of my 10th grade classes that Nia took for me. The lesson was about Meiosis.

Dog Blog

2009-03-06T03:12:00.000-08:00

I have 4 dogs. There names are Dama do Bling, MC Rogers, Jose, and Beeker. They are great dogs but they like to chase, bite, and kill goats. They’ve become rather efficient at it recently, biting two goats just this week. Unfortunately, these goats belong to my neighbors, and as a newcomer into the community of Mossuril I feel like this is a good way to make a bad impression. I would love for them to stop killing goats but I just don’t know what to do. My house has a 10 foot tall bamboo fence around the perimeter, but the crazy bastards still get out somehow. I think they can actually fly, and I’m jealous. So they get out at night when im sleeping and just hunt goats until morning. I cant stop them from leaving, so the only thing I can do is pay the owner of the goat when one gets killed. Except, people have been trying to get me to pay full price for a goat that has only been bitten a little. In the most recent case the goat which had been attacked had a small wound in its hind leg but was otherwise perfectly fine, running around and playing with the other goats without a notice to his dog wound. The owner of this goat told me that my dogs put their ‘venom’ in his goat, and now the goat was worthless. He wanted me to take the goat and pay full price for it. I tried to explain that my dogs have received all necessary vaccinations, are very healthy, and actually don’t have any venom, but the owner would not listen to me. I tried to offer him a reasonable sum of money as compensation for the dog bite, but the owner refused. The next day we had a meeting with the Economic Affairs Office (That’s right, there is an Economic Affairs Office in Mossuril) to settle things out. I couldn’t believe it but the arbitrator sided with me saying that the goat owner was being too ‘rigid’, and that today my dog bit your goat but tomorrow your chicken could come into my yard and eat all my corn flour. This would have sounded ridiculous in the states, but it was the perfect way to put it in Mozambique.

Lichinga Reflections

2009-03-06T03:07:00.000-08:00

Last few weeks of Lichinga. Boy how time flies. Today is a Mozambican holiday and for the first time its one ive already celebrated in Mozambique. I remember standing at the praça in Namaacha while people celebrated the dia da paz. A line formed and every person watching waited in line to put a flower on a small monument in remembrance of the civil war. I was in that line and placed a flower on the monument. I think I had been in Mozambique for a whopping 5 days. What a little wide eyed baby I was. I probably thought, wow this is so genuine. I’m experiencing genuine Africa. What would people back home say. Í hate when I feel like that. That’s what tourists think when they think that they are experiencing culture. What an idealistic baby. Today when the procession passed my house today, I barely noticed. There are so many holidays and so many processions I cant keep ‘em straight, let alone go to the praça and place a flower on a monument every single time. I don’t have enough flowers to keep up.

It just goes to show how my mindset has differed from when I first got here. It might seem like I’m jaded but I disagree. I feel integrated, enlightened, and knowledgeable. When I first got here I wanted to feel cultured. So every time I did something new I took selfish pleasure knowing that my hopes were coming true. After a years worth of living and service I feel more or less indifferent, which is a good thing. The things I thought were so strange and different about Mozambique are normal to me now. So normal that I don’t give a second look to a mother breastfeeding their capulana wrapped child while carrying two 20 liter cartons filled with water up a hill in 100 degree weather. I don’t think twice about sitting next to a goat on a boat, feel uncomfortable in a car jam packed with 30 people, nor do I find xima bland and inadequate. I rather like xima and it is a staple in my diet. My Mozambican friends are my friends, because I like them and want to spend time with them. I think the younger, denser, green Jamie might say, “I’ve got like 30 Mozambican friends! This is so great! I’m really fitting in.” Luckily, for the most part, I don’t think like that anymore.

Ah, am I here for personal satisfaction or to provide service? The answer is murky. Sure Mozambique lacks trained and qualified teachers, and I have some skills that might help in this regard, but wouldn’t it be cool to say, “Hey I went to Africa to teach biology…in Portuguese…when I was only 22 years old. That’s a pretty fulfilling life. What have you done that beats that?” The moment the service aspect of my life becomes an afterthought, its re-evaluation time. Anytime I do something with personal enjoyment and self advancement as the main priority, I need to stop doing it, and I probably shouldn’t have been doing it in the first place. That’s the closest thing to being selfless as you can get. I used to argue with my girlfriend that selflessness can happen, but, despite how painful it is to say this, I think I am starting to agree with her. Everything you do for others has an element of personal pleasure. You strive for selflessness when your honest intentions in action are to help others and not for your own personal satisfaction. This requires being truthful with yourself.

My service in Mozambique should be about me giving every ounce of energy to my school and community. Everyone has their breaking points so taking vacations and breaks, while being enjoyable, would serve the purpose of motivation and reflection so I can keep providing service to the best of my abilities. Everyone needs motivation and reflection. This dedication to my service gives me a connection to my school, students, and community. Its by default. How could you not be a part of something that you are trying so hard to improve. This is what I’m most proud of.

I am at the end of my time here in Lichinga. PC decided to move me to Nampula to teach next year. So, like at the end of everything, I’ve been thinking about my time here a lot. What was successful? What would I have done differently? What did I like and dislike? What will happen to my school and students? So to organize these thoughts I made a list, using bullet points…which I love to do.

What I liked
My students! Man they are great. They have a great collective personality and individually I appreciate their diversity. Also, some of my students are incredibly gifted, creatively. So many write, draw, paint, and play instruments. Here is a poem one of my favorite students wrote:

One Day
One day…
I had a family
A job and even more
My health

One day…
I was free
Without having to take medicine
And eat a limited diet

One day…
I lost control of myself
I drank alcohol and consumed drugs
And today I am what I am
A slave of HIV

One day…
I was happy
And today I only worry
I have the feeling that
My days are numbered

Being in a city. Our bank was 30 minutes away, we have 4 markets to choose from and these are real deal markets, not like those were lucky to have tomatos or garlic markets. Also, the internet is accessible. There are new people to meet everyday, a basketball court, and a basketball league.
Being isolated. The tougher the better right. I think the temptation of being close to other volunteers would be great and I think I would rely on them too much for friendship, and would in turn neglect possible friends in the community.
My dog. Great dog, swell dog, hot dog.
The direction of the school and coworkers. The direction of the school was very lenient, I was able to do things how I wanted without much interference. The freedom was great. Also, when I was in a bind with work one of my colleagues always bailed me out.
My house. Great back yard, lots of space, if only I had a latrine.

What sucked
Having an American roommate. While it was helpful having someone pick up food in the market, work with on projects, and talk to, I think it took away from my experience. My roommate and I are fundamentally different and having him as my primary American support system was not easy. There wasn’t much choice than to be surrounded by him, we live in the same house and are the only volunteers around for days.
The climate. Lichinga has the unfortunate combination of dust and wind. It is really awful. I wake up every night coughing because there is so much dust in the air that you cant help but breath it in, no matter how much you sweep.
Being in a city. Its hard to feel a part of the community when the community is so big that you haven’t seen half of it. Sure there are some nice neighbors close but I feel like a tiny fish in a big ocean sometimes. A tight knit community has its appeal.
My colleagues. There are a lot of bad teachers here. I don’t want to go to much into it, but they are just bad teachers and bad people.

What was successful
Sending students out when they deserve it. I used to let students stay in the class when they were loud, inattentive, and even sleeping. Now when I ask a question I think a student should know (i.e. its written on the board in front of them) and they give no effort, they are sent out of the classroom. This really gets the other students on the same page with me. Maybe a bit dramatic, but whatever works.
Group projects. My students performed so well on a group project test. I was and still am impressed.
Field trips. Maybe it was because they were well behaved but it worked out great.
Having extra-curricular groups. This was great, there is a lot of student interest and very few projects. All of the groups I started I consider a success, even the music group that had to stop because of a lack of instruments.

What was not successful?
Being nice in the classroom
Expecting students to come to meetings when you tell them, and expecting things to work out as you planned in general
Trying to do everything. You end up spreading yourself too thin

So, these were just some thoughts I had at the end of my first year in country. This year was an adventure, with various highs and lows. Living in Mozambique is concentrated living. There’s not much fluff. This second year will most likely be much different in my new home of Mossuril, and it will be filled with new highs and lows, but I’m looking forward to the adventure.

South African Christmas

2008-12-24T01:56:00.000-08:00

After a year of tough work teaching in Mozambique I'm spending the holiday season in Cape Town, which is about as different from Mozambique as possible. I feel like I'm back in the US, which is strange. There are a lot of things that im not used to like really fast and expensive cars, coffee shops, myriads of restaurants, cool stores and bars, museums, and creativity and stimuli in general. Its a nice change of pace.

Im here with Nia and we originally thought that we would stay just a couple days in Cape Town, but weve sort of fallen in love with the place and are staying about a week. There is great hiking and beautiful beaches to explore and cage diving great white sharks. The cage diving is going to be a financial haymaker but i think its going to be worth it. Also, we are staying in a really cool hostel here called the Cat and Moose and its been great talking with other people traveling. We met some PC volunteers from Namibia and were all planning on having a big dinner tomorrow to celebrate Christmas.

Then after Cape Town were planning on continuing our trip up the eastern coast of South Africa and eventually making it back in Maputo for our midservice conference on January 11th.

So, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year and hopefully I will start blogging more regularly now that I have a lap top. Its my New Year's resolution.

Ferias (Dec 2007-Dec 2008)

2008-04-16T04:19:00.000-07:00

Sumario
After being placed in Lichinga, Niassa I traveled to Nampula by chapa and train to spend the holidays with some volunteers in Angoche. We spent our holidays relaxing on the beach, singing christmas carols on Dhows, gaming, sharing christmas traditions, making movies, having odd interactions with Mozambicans, fishing, taking pictuesgetting weird, rolling down sand dunes, burying treasure, dj-ing, festejaring, tuchering, and decorating my friend Alex's house.

Historias

Tucher- When New Years came the only ones left in Angoche were Hans, Alex, Nia, and myself. We didnt have any big plans for the night, and it seemed like we would take in the New Year with some intense gaming (This would have been a perfect way to spend New Year's or any day for that matter). But, earlier in the week we had talked to the Dono of the local pub "Tucher", and, jokingly, we told him that I was a DJ of international notoriety. He was obviously impressed and invited us to return on New Years to mix some music. We had initially written this off, but as the night wore on and our options were dwindling, we decided to make a cd and go check out Tuchers. This may have been the best decision of our lives. As soon as we entered the bar we were ushered onto the dance floor, and the owner put me behind some state of the art dj equipment (had this been December 31, 1987). After a brief orientation I was behind the wheels armed with the Dono's conspicuous CD collection. He had musica romantica, Mozambican pop music, and lots of bad music from the 1990s. Needless to say, I was in my element. Rod Stewart, Milli Vanilli, Akon, R Kelly, Phil Collins, and Bryan Adams kept the party going until the wee hours of the morning. The highlights of the night were receiving free Tuchers, the count down to the new year, and the dance move of the year where this guy got down on his knees with his hands reaching for the heavens belting "Summer of 69" by Bryan Adams with prodigious gusto.

Training (Sept 2007-Dec 2007)

2008-04-12T07:37:00.000-07:00

Sumario

From September 2007-December 2007 i lived in Namaacha, which is a small town outside of the Maputo (Capital of Mozambique) set at a high elevation. The landscape was more soft green hills than abrupt rocky peaks. This is where my Peace Corps experience began. I lived with a host family on the perimeter of the town (I was the furthest volunteer out). Upon my arrival, I met my host father and we walked to our house. We trekked through steep muddy paths with my bags in tow, and rain was falling hard and fast on our faces. Our house was made of rocks and mud, and on the inside there was a cement outer coating in some rooms for aesthetic purpose. A zinc roof covered our heads and created illusion as if thousands of passaros were nose diving into our house every time it rained. The kitchen and bathroom were not attached to the central building of our home. They were also made of rocks and mud.
During the first part of training I studied portuguese during the day with my "turma" (4 other Biology teachers) and spent the rest of time with my host family. This is because inicially we had an 8 o'clock curfew, and, due to lack of ideal communication, I continued to follow this curfew weeks after it had been lifted. I also spent a lot of time in the casa de banho (a hole in the ground with a cinderblock serving as a guide) with diarrhea. I had a bucket with which I used to bathe. I did this in the other side of the casa de banho behind our house. About 50 other volunteers lived in Namaacha, but I was isolated in a remote part of town. Our days were meticulously planned out for us by Peace Corps training staff with classes, meetings, and curfews. I had no free time. Halfway through training all of the trainees went on site visit. We stayed with volunteers for a week to experience life as a volunteer. I was lucky enough to get to the beach during site visit.
Toward the latter part of training we began focusing on our various disciplines and a two week "model school" was the culmination of this focus. Peace Corps picked our sites for us, and we left for our sites in December.

Historias

Chicken-In general, money was tight for my host family and we ate meat once a week. This happened on Sundays at dinner. We had goat stew once and fried duck a few times, but we usually had something with chicken since it was the cheaper option. We would get these animals from our yard, because my host family (like most Mozambicans) raised goats, ducks, and chickens for sustenance. My host mother was an expert at killing and cleaning chickens. She could get a chicken ready to cook in less than 10 minutes. It was unbelievable. I never really helped out in the kitchen, and after about a month at homestay I decided that I needed to earn my Sunday chicken. So, one Sunday, I told my host mother that I was going to kill the chicken and clean it myself, without help, in under 5 minutes. She laughed, but told me I could try. This proved much harder than she made it look. I was handed a dull knife and was told to cut its neck. I was hoping for an easier way and my host siblings (all under 11) thought my hesitation was hilarious. Partially due to this peer pressure, I grabbed its head and started sawing away. It was horrible. Blood was everywhere, and after it was done i stood back frozen in shock. As all expert chicken killers know, this was a mistake. The chicken was violently flopping about for a good 30 seconds after its head was off, and all of my clothes were covered with blood. This was too good to be true for my host siblings who were now rolling on the ground in uncontrolable laughter. I think the youngest might have peed himself out of sheer amusement (Although he often peed himself without any reason at all. He also breast fed. He was 4 years old. Im obvious still bitter about the public humiliation). After that experience, I have decided to avoid killing chickens if I can. You can forget sometimes that someone actually has to kill the chicken whose breast you buy at your local grocery store. This 'cultural' experience reminded me of this, and I will never walk through a Stop n Shop the same way again.
Halloween-All of the trainees wanted to celebrate halloween. No one wanted to miss out on all the goodness this holiday brings just because we were in Mozambique and Mozambicans have no concept of Halloween no matter how many times you explain them in broken portuguese. Whats so good about Halloween? If you dont already know, shame on you, but there is candy involved and people dress up really weirdly. I decided that due to limited resources I would be a robot with two other volunteers. I had cardboard boxes and I had silver duck tape. That is all you need to be a robot. You do not need to go to the mall to buy some fancy suit. When we were finished making our robot costumes, the other robots and myself began walking to the volunteer house where we were having our bash. Sortly after we started, I noticed that we were getting some very strange looks. This really wasnt new to me, as being white in Mozambique is about as rare as being a Mozambican who doesnt pick their nose in public (nothing wrong with this, its just an interesting cultural difference). But I began thinking how extra strange it must have been for Mozambicans to see a white person dressed up as a robot. I bet that half the people in Namaacha have no concept of what a robot is. This made me think about the clash of worlds that was taking place. Me, a robot from a futuristic computer world had stumbled upon the underdeveloped world of dirt roads, mud houses, and rampant goad herds that was my neighborhood in Namaacha. It was crazy to think about, and I made my friends take some pictures. My favorite is the timid robot meeting the indifferent goat (see picture).

Pessoas

As I stated above I stayed with a host family during training. This was one of the most unique experiences of my life and I consider them my second family. I will always remember my time with them.

Mae- My host mother (Mae) was a huge breasted, very pregnant wall of a woman. She chops wood and kills chickens all while singing church hymns. She has a bellowing yet endearing laugh. She is loving but also can be greedy. She cooks, cleans, and washes all of her families clothes. This is her daily routine. She has a round baby face with the body of a woman twice her age. She recently had another son and named him Jaimito after me. I was so honored by this.

Pai- My Pai is a man with responsibilities. I like to get him animated about the need for factories in Mozambique, a topic he has talked about over 20 times with me. He loves sitting around the house and listening to the radio about news and sports. He can fix about everything and is a respected man in the community. He is a pastor and a secretary of the neighborhood and he works in construction, having built many of our neighbor's houses. He is short, well dressed, and wears tiny but perfectly shined shoes to church. Church is where you will find him most nights.

Avo Atalia- She is my host grandmother and had my host Pai when she was 14 years old. This woman can do it all. She is a master cook (any green vegetable with coconut and peanuts she cooks is amazing). On Saturdays, she sells shirts in the market. We had a hard time communicating because she could not speak portuguese well, but it really didnt matter much. She was great. She always wore a hat or wrap around her head (bald?). She opens bottles with her mouth, pilars with authority, plays cards with me, and once offered to split a caixa (case) of beer with me. She is a no nonsense woman, but she only shows her kind and loving side to me. She sometimes laughs at the young ones in our family and plays juvenile tricks on them. She knows how to survive in this world, and if i had to describe her in one word that word would be scrappy.

Dino- He is 11 years old. He loves to draw and listen to music. He always seems to be happy and has an adorable smile. He is not very athletic but always tries to play sports. He is always dancing, and I have learned some great moves from him. He is smart academically but is lacking in common sense (But hes just a kid, and I'm probably being hard on him).

Neto- He is 7 years old. He has middle child syndrome, and is always craving attention or getting jealous of his other brothers. He is so silly and says crazy things that don't make sense in any language. He is scrappy like his grandmother. He is a young engineer and has made a guitar, glasses, and a water gun out of scraps and garbage.

Jose- He is 4 years old. I love Jose so much! I remember once when I made him smile when he was sick by tickling him, and he made me smile when I was sick by pushing around a broken wheelbarrow. He loves playing my guitar and is the cutest child I have ever seen in my life. He has a spark and glow about him that might make him the most affable living creature alive. I miss him.

Pensamentos

I don't think I have ever felt more overwhelmed in my life as I felt in the first week of training. Everything was new. I felt like a wide eyed baby, dizzy from all the new stimuli. In essence this was what I was, and it was how Peace Corps and my host family treated me. I didn't know how to bathe myself or use the bathroom, the food was new, the climate was unpredictable and unforgiving, I was living with strangers, and my health was fragile and my body was not reacting well to the malaria medication I had started taking, and I could not speak portuguese save for a few crude phrases. The days dragged on and seemed like weeks. It was truly a struggle. But, as time went on everything became easier, and after my first lesson in model school (Introduction to Mendelian Genetics given to 13 11th and 12th year old students) I know that I could be a Peace Corps Volunteer (see picture of model school). It is remarkable how quickly humans can adapt to their surroundings.
I would like to point out that I thoroughly enjoyed my time with the other volunteers. Whether it was going out for some ice cold....cokes, playing basketball next to the secondary school, spending halloween and thanksgiving together, experiencing the 'joys' of mozambican transportation, rocking Mohawks, or just sitting around sharing stories it seemed like we were always having fun. We were a family.
I only felt home sick one time, but it was very strong and overwhelming. I was in the market and I asked a vender for something in portuguese. She couldn't understand me, and then she and a group of other market venders started laughing at me. I felt totally alone in a strange land. I was totally lost. I was able to get over it by talking with another volunteer, talking with my Mom on the phone, and writing in my journal. It lasted only about 2 days.

Peace Corps Service in Mozambique

2007-09-04T10:36:00.000-07:00

I recently accepted an invitation to serve as a Peace Corps volunteer in Mozambique. My primary duty will be to teach biology to secondary school students (8th-10th grade), and I will also be very involved in HIV/AIDS education and community development.

I will be in Mozambique for 27 months and I leave on September 26th, 2007.

For the first 10 weeks upon my arrival I will be able to receive mail and packages at the following address:

James Mangan, PCV

Corpo da Paz/U. S. Peace Corps

C.P. 4398

Maputo

Mozambique

It is recommended that packages be sent in padded envelopes if possible, as boxes tend to be taxed more frequently. For lightweight but important items (e.g. airline tickets), DHL (an express mail service) does operate in Maputo.

If you choose to send items through DHL, you must address the package to the following address:

James Mangan, PCV

c/o U. S. Peace Corps Mozambique

Avenida Zimbabwe 345

Maputo

Mozambique

(These addresses will be valid from Septemeber 27, 2007 - December 7, 2007. At that point I will find out where I will be placed in Mozambique for the next 2 years and will post a new address.)

It is important to number letters sent to that address and write "Airmail" and/or "Par Avion" on anything sent out. The mail system is not as reliable as the U.S. system and there may be delays and people may tamper with letters or packages. It is a good idea to write "god bless" on letters, draw religious crosses, or put 'father' in front of my name in order to prevent tampering. I have been told that people are less likely to mess with your mail if it seems to have a religious purpose as to avoid a curse or bad karma. For real. Writing school supplies on the package is a good idea in order to prevent stealing or tampering.

Also, I will have a cell phone when I am there, but I do not have a number as of yet. I will let people know as soon as possible.

I am embarking on the biggest adventure of my life and I couldn't be more excited or nervous. I will try to post updates of my experiences in Mozambique on a regular basis.

Fox

2007-06-02T19:36:00.000-07:00

My mom is renting a house in Plainfield, CT, which is in the middle of nowhere. There is farm land, forest, and that is about all. The property she is renting encompasses over 40 acres of forest, and Connecticut's largest state forest continues the veil of wilderness that surrounds the house. There are many wild animals that are right in our backyard as a result of this forest. We were told to watch out for bears, because they are getting more aggressive and have been known to approach houses.

So, it was hardly a surprise when my mom began to see two red foxes on a regular basis this past winter fraternizing in the side yard on the edge of the forest. Soon after, she noticed four fox puppies romping around with one of the foxes she saw during the winter. When I came home from college for the final time, my mom had told me about the fox family. I saw them the next day from a window and became instantly infatuated. I watched them for over an hour. Some of the puppies were lounging in a patch of clovers, while the other puppies stealthily approached and pounced on their sleepy siblings. They hid in tall grass and gently hopped onto each other like a frogs onto lily pads. The mother fox looked over the entire scene and occasionally cleaned one of her babies by licking their face. Watching from my hidden window I saw the family act as they naturally would. The foxes were playful, loving, and happy. It was endearing to watch them. For the next week my mother, my sister, and I would peek out the window hoping they would be out in the yard. We would all just sit on my mom's bed and wish that we could go out there and play with them. They were having so much fun. I felt lucky to share a home with this fox family.

A few days ago my mom called me from her cell phone and told me that one of the foxes had been hit by a car in the middle of the night. My mom, who has done extensive fox research of late, told me that foxes usually go out hunting at night and probably had gotten caught crossing our road. I felt dejected but tried to keep it out of my mind. My day was packed with appointments and driving, and I did not want to get distracted. But when I pulled out of our driveway onto the main street, I noticed an animal lying in the middle of the road. As I approached the animal I realized that it was one of the fox puppies from our side yard. There was a dead mouse just in front of the fox. I also realized that the fox was not lying, but it was very dead. Fresh blood was visible from his opened body, and the air above his spilled innards was saturated with hungry flies. The fox's face shined a naive smile. The fox did not know the danger of cars, did not know to avoid roads, did not know how short life can be. Seeing that fox in the middle of the road was one of the rawest images I have seen in my life.

My first thought was "what happens to this fox's soul?" In our side yard the fox lived. I watched the fox live, and I am sure that this young fox had a soul.

I had to move the fox's body. I put it into a box and brought it out to our side yard. I dug a small hole near the clover patch and buried the fox. I used a large rock that I dug up as a head stone. There was no epitaph, but a head stone seemed appropriate. At the time I had a silly notion that the mother, brothers, and sisters were appreciative of my symbolic gesture. I thought somewhere in the forest the mother was calmly watching me bury her child. I guess I expect storybook endings. I don't know if foxes have emotions. They probably don't have emotions, or there could be a study from an animal science college that suggests that animals in the dog family are capable of morning. I really do not know. But I do know that the fox family has not returned to our side yard since the burial.

Dream

2007-05-04T17:03:00.000-07:00

Well, this is the first entry, but today is probably a good day to start since I am officially a college graduate. While I am excited and will celebrate appropriately, its a sobering experience to be done with school. Its abrupt. Walking back to meet my family after the graduation ceremony, I asked myself seriously, "that was it?" I have grown and changed so much in these four years, that the picture in my Uconn ID card looks unfamiliar.

I had an interesting dream last night and decided to document it. It seems like you can only remember dreams the day after you have them so the interesting ones should be written about so they are not lost forever.

I was graduating, in my cap and gown, and was sitting in the audience of an auditorium next to my sister. She had come to watch me graduate and I was very excited to be with her. I also had a dog on a leash, that was calmly sitting next to us both. I don't own a dog, but in this dream this dog belonged to me. I went along with this in my dream, probably because I have always wanted to own a dog and this one was rather well behaved. He would sit when I asked him to sit, and he wasn't one of those annoying dogs that always barks at nothing.

My name was called and I walked up to the stage with my dog along side. The graduation proceeded as normal and at the end we all threw our caps in the air as a continuance of tradition. All of the graduates needed to take planes to get home. Half of the graduates were on one plane, and the other half was on a separate plane. When we were off the ground I noticed there was a violent storm outside. The plane I was on began to make violent motions that made my heart sink in my stomach. The motions of the plane were wild and unlike anything I have every experienced during flying. Despite this, I remained calm and had faith in our pilot, who happened to be a recent graduate and a close friend. The plane continued its shake, and it was announced through the intercom that the plane was going to have an "emergency landing".

The crash was surprisingly smooth despite ending up in the middle of a dense forest. I was a bit dazed and banged up but was still alive and able to walk. I got out of the plane and looked around. All of the passengers were dazed but fine. I saw my old blue Pontiac Sunfire sitting in the woods about a football field away from the crash. A couple friends and I went to see if it could start up. Despite not running for months in the real world, this dream Pontiac started right away. My friends doubted its abilities for maneuvering through the woods. I knew better, and the jalopy plowed through leaves and dead logs. Eventually we came out of the forest into a clearing with a familiar looking building with a familiar looking group of people congregated on the back stoop. They were excited to see we were fine, because thy had heard about the crash. Then they told us that the second plane had also crashed, but that no one had survived. I cant remember what I felt after hearing this news, but I looked up into the sky at the tall trees making up the fringe of the forest that we had just exited. At the top of one of the trees, dangling by a parachute, was a school mate of mine. His whole body was visibly pale and was swinging in the wind. His neck was surrounded by tangled rope and nylon. This is the last image I remember before I woke up in the morning.