An Open Letter to My Host Sister

An Open Letter to My Host Sister:


Manaquina,


I hope that I will reach a level in Portuguese before I leave to be able to translate this letter well for you, but as you know, I am struggling to express myself in your language. When I arrived, I can only imagine what you thought about your new “Mana” and all the ways you could see that we were different. For example, being born in different hemispheres, different decades, and into an entirely different set of life circumstances.

There are other things that make us different, too. We like different things and we know how to do different things. Like how I know how to write a 15 page Sociology paper in 8 hours and you know how to take care of an entire household like it’s no problem. I can think of so many things that you know how to do that are so much more useful and practical than what I can do and I hope I can learn some of that from you during the time we have together. I mean, you have already shown me how to do laundry, cook a variety of different foods, fetch water from the well, clean my room, and do all things the Mozambican way.

Even though it is easy to see the things that make us different, I want you to know all the ways that we are the same. We are both strong and resilient with our own set of experiences that have shaped us and how we see the world. We are both female, with all the gifts and challenges that our gender bares. We are both students and we are both teachers. You’re my teacher and I hope I can be yours somehow. We both love to play UNO and cards and we both like to eat mae’s food. And we both are sisters that love our siblings unconditionally.

I want you to know that I think you are so intelligent, witty, hardworking, and kind. I admire your patience and ability to set aside so much time to take care of your family. You have had no obligation to help me learn anything, yet you take the time to show me how to do things, like smashing peanuts and grinding coconut to make some of my favorite foods here. I know that this makes the process slower for you and you could easily just do it yourself, which I sometimes wish you would so I didn’t have to embarrass myself any longer, but I still appreciate having the chance to learn how to do it myself.

I always find you watching me, waiting for me to forget something or mess up so that you can swoop in and help me out. Like the other day when I left the banho (shower area outside) and almost left my clothes in there as I pranced to my room in my towel. You smiled at me with raised eyebrows and grabbed my things for me because my hands were full.

Another time, I insisted it was fine to use the latrine at night because I had my headlamp even though you warned me about cockroaches and other nighttime creatures. You stood in the doorway of the house and waited for me from 50 feet away while I struggled to use the restroom in the dark despite my over confidence and fancy light.

While being away from home is not necessarily new to me, being in an entirely new place and trying to adjust to a new culture isn’t easy by any stretch. It’s a vulnerable place to be, but I’ve felt nothing but patience, guidance, and support from you since the very first day I arrived here. Your presence makes me feel safe, humbled, and loved.

Thank you for everything you do for me each day. Thank you for never making me feel like a burden. Thank you for secretly helping me eat my food when mae makes me fill my plate for the third or fourth time. Thank you for doing yoga with me even though I have no idea how to teach in a language you understand. Thank you for being you, and thank you for sharing your world with me.


I’ll leave you a poem by one of my favorite poets, Rupi Kaur:











With love,


Manamelia

My views and opinions are my own and do not reflect those of the United States government or Peace Corps organization.