The Book Thief

So to briefly connect this post and book experience, the book thief is about a little girl who steals books (in case you couldn’t guess that last part). But she only steals enough to keep her occupied, and only once she has finished her previous book.

I’m a bit different. Sometimes I feel like I’m stealing moments in Mozambique, and forever guarding them in my memory. Though I cannot say that I’m only taking the moments that I need, I’d like to think I’m not depriving others of those memories either.

One such moment happened today. Let me set the scene.

I walked myself to the restaurant in town to have a nice meio frango (half chicken). As I sat outside in the covered verandah, the gray skies gave way to a moderate rain. I started the afternoon with a Fanta, but had since moved to a milk stout tallboy brewed in South Africa. My chicken had just come out from the kitchen, and as I sat eating, I watched local boys running naked in the street with the rain washing them off, and listening to the call to prayer from the mosque half a block away. I sat back for a moment, contemplating the simple fact that nothing in this situation is any longer out of the ordinary. Which then led me to the thought, “I should take a mental picture.” Which of course I did.

How many times after I leave Mozambique will these things be ordinary? When in my life after Peace Corps will I be able to sit down at a restaurant and order a half chicken? When can I enjoy a Fanta from a glass bottle, then get a quality beer in a 16oz (well, 440ml) can, and still be keeping it classy? When will a moderate drizzle classify as a shower for a child, especially one running naked down the middle of a dirt road? How often will I hear the call to prayer? These are integral parts of my life here. A year ago, nearly all of these things would have made me pause for a moment. Now I don’t think twice about any of it. What will life look like without these?