Annie and I spent 7 weeks in Mozambique after our wedding. We were teaching English among other projects at a small teacher's college near the capital city of Maputo. Our accommodations were austere by most western standards. Sporadic running water, rickety home-made beds with old foam mattresses, difficult public transportation, no phone, etc. Not really austere, but remote. Annie was in the process of shooting a documentary style film about the growth of the LDS church in Mozambique, and as a new husband, I found that a great deal of my time was focused on lugging around camera equipment and running errands.
On one such errand I was running along a dirt road with a camera in my hands that Annie had sent me to fetch. There were eucalyptus trees planted along one side, presumably or shade, and brush on the other. I liked to take my time walking this road because earlier I had found a flat chameleon that had been run over by a tire. I have never really recovered from my boyhood fascination with snakes and lizards, and the discovery of the chameleon filled my with wonder and hope that I might happen across some interesting African wildlife.
On this particular day, I was running. I don't remember why I was running, but I was. On my right, several women were walking along the path with heavy loads balanced on their heads. Fruit, laundry, groceries, balanced with perfect skill as their dusty feet shuffled along in bright flip-flop sandals.
As I ran, the setting sun glared in my eyes, and the insects of the evening began to swarm. I felt them pepper my skin as I ran through clouds of small black gnats. Soon my hair was an ecosystem of insects and I ran my hand through to brush them away. It was bound to happen and it did. One of the little blokes went directly into my right eye. Now, all of you have had a bug in your eye, but this one was different. As my blinking eye mashed the poor fellow into mud and my tears began to flow, I felt one of the most intense stinging sensations I have ever felt. Almost in a panic I rubbed and pushed on they eye. The insect must have had some venom that punished runners, for ten seconds hadn't passed before my eye was so inflamed and blurry that I couldn't see out of it. Of course this slowed my pace. I walked for some distant and was really quite alarmed at how intense the sting was, but I couldn't dislodge the black blur from my eye.
I had no choice, so stopped one of the passing women and said as politely as I could in Portuguese, "Excuse my could you help me please? I know this is odd but I have something in my eye, could you see if you can get it?" She understandingly lowered the basket from her head and approached. This is where it got weird. Without a word she grasped my head quite firmly with one strong hand in back and one on my forehead, one thumb on each eyelid upper and lower. She forced my eye open with the force of a seasoned mother and looked. "Eu acho bichinho." She said assertively, (I think it's a bug). "Yes it is a bichinho," I said, "can you get it out?" Then without any warning, she spat, powerfully, but with pinpoint accuracy. I felt the spray on my face and a wet gob in my eye, and the black blur....gone. Like salivary artillery she had honed in and spat the bug out of my eye! She released me and I could see through the blurry tears her hand on her hips and a satisfied smile. I was stunned. Did that just happen?What could I say? "Obrigado minha senhora" I stammered. (Thank you Miss.) She gave a polite bow and said, "Nao a de que." (It was nothing). I wiped the spit from my eye and trotted on, trying to process what had just happened. Although grateful, I confess I was looking forward to splashing some water on my face, perhaps even with a bit of soap. To my amazement, the stinging sensation immediately dispersed. Once recovered from the shock of the spit wad in my eye, I couldn't help but smile and finally laugh. It was a strangely exciting and not altogether unpleasant dose of African mothers medicine. And as I trotted off into the sunset and through the bugs, I couldn't help but think, "Can't wait to try this one on my kids."
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