My House - in the Middle of My Street

Check it out, y'all, another post already... Several people have been asking me to put up photos of my house so you can see how I’m living over here in my third-world country. And yes, it is MY third-world country. And it will continue to be so right up until someone comes over here to visit me. Then it will be OUR third-world country :-)

First a disclaimer: This is one of about twenty houses of this caliber in Cuamba… Ironically, it’s nicer than anywhere I’ve ever lived before. The people I’m working with have dirt floors and grass roofs that blow away in a strong wind. They almost never have electricity and usually have to walk a considerable distance to fill a water jug each day. Without even considering the rest of the house, they think I’m rich just because I have a refrigerator. Seriously.

So needless to say, I feel a bit ashamed each time I walk in the door – and I feel like this is a barrier between me and the people I’m here to work with. I didn’t choose this house, and I wouldn’t have, but that doesn’t mean I’m not grateful for it. I am extremely grateful that this place has been provided for me. I’m also extremely grateful that 90% of my ministry takes place away from my home here so that people don’t see how much nicer my things are than theirs…

Okay, all that aside, first here is a pic of my apartment in Nampula where I lived for my first three months while studying Portuguese. The orange Volkswagen was a permanent fixture - apparently it hasn’t moved in a long time because I could use it to give directions. “Yeah, I live in that part of town, right behind the orange VW.” My apartment was the one with the lovely teal colored exterior on the bottom floor – right behind the car. A word to the wise: if you ever live in a third-world country, don’t live in an apartment on the ground floor. Beggars were constantly coming right up to the window. They’d just stand there for a while, looking in, and then they’d ask for money. I gave them food, and they usually walked away disappointed.

And here is a shot of my new house in Cuamba. The owner just renovated the entire place, so everything is new. Of course, that doesn’t mean that everything works, it just means that it all looks nice. This next one is my monster-truck-of-a-Toyota. I get complimented on the size of the wheels all the time… it turns some heads as I’m cruising the strip, let me tell ya. The majority of my work takes place out in the countryside where there aren’t really roads, so most of what I do would be called “muddin’” if you lived in Kentucky. I must admit that I have a good time with it, but all in the line of duty…

And here we’re entering my front door. Notice the microwave on the nicely tiled floor there, that’s because at the time of the photo I only had power on one side of the house (a whole other story). That’s my bedroom straight ahead, with my only collared shirt hanging to keep it wrinkle-free. And next is my living/dining room. That’s my water filter sitting on the table. Check out the table cloth, eh? I’ve never used one of those in my own house before, but I thought I’d try living the high life.

Here’s my hallway, nothing too exciting about it, but it’s funny to me that I have my fridge in the hall because my kitchen only has enough room to turn around (barely). And next we come to my water retention system. Remember how I said that new things don’t necessarily mean working things? Well, the house has pipes, but we haven’t been able to get water into those lovely pipes just yet, so I have my guards (I’ll get to them in a minute) fill the wash basin behind the house whenever the city water is running, and then I take buckets of water into the house from there.

And finally, I want to show you all the trees around my house. They very rarely plant a tree here that won’t produce something edible, so I’ve got all kinds of fruit trees in my yard. These are some papaya trees; I’ve also got mango trees, some type of pear, and several that I’m not familiar with. On a normal day I eat three to four different types of fruit, so no worries about me getting scurvy. Wasn’t that what sailors used to get because they couldn’t get fresh fruit? I read a magazine article in college about a guy who tried to live on a diet of Skittles instead of fruit, and he got scurvy… but I guess that’s a bit off topic…

So yeah, I’ve got guards for the house because I’m gone so often. I also broke down and got a house worker. The local Mozambicans really look at us poorly if we don’t employ a few people. They see us with nice houses and cars, and if we don’t contribute at all to the local economy then they think we’re stingy. Which I am, but I think they’re right on this, so I’m employing two guards and a guy to help me in the house for a couple hours a day. He doesn’t really do much, and he’s not a very good cook, but it’s nice to not wash my own dishes any more… I tried to pick guys with a lot of kids - between these three men they have sixteen children.

And that’s my house. It wasn’t what I expected, so I doubt it’s what any of you expected either, but it’s a place to hang my hat… Maybe I’ll take a stroll through town to show you around sometime in the near future-