Hospitality in Mozambique: A Reflection on Discomfort and Acceptance

   

        

       It’s 3 o’clock pm on Sunday and I’ve been sitting in the same plastic chair watching a church service for the last 5 and a half hours. I’ve been forced to sit in a chair, in the first row, in front of about a hundred women and children who are sitting on the floor on straw mats while their husbands and other men in the church sit in chairs on a stage in front. I’m hot, dehydrated, and my patience is running thin as I listen to the same song and watch the same dance over and over again. About 3 hours ago, I was whisked away into a small room to have lunch with the priests, their wives, and other important members of the church while my host family and new friends had nothing to eat. I can’t stop thinking about that as I try my best to smile and sing along (to words I don’t know in the local language, Xitswa) all while I am anxiously waiting for this church service to be over so I can get a drink of water, talk to my host family, and try to make sense of this grand gesture of hospitality.

That day was by far one of the toughest I’ve had here in Mozambique. I spent a total of about 7 hours in church that day, severely uncomfortable and confused. If it had not been for my host family’s calm attitude and a much-needed explanation from my language teacher (more on that to come), I think I would still have a sour taste in my mouth about it. The entire time I was there, I felt so strange about sitting in a chair while women and children in the community sat on the floor and I felt even stranger about the very clear gender dynamic that played out before me. I felt insecure while eating lunch with the important members of the church because it was both unexpected and almost obligatory. I didn’t know if I was doing the right thing by accepting their invitation knowing that my family was waiting to eat lunch until they got home from church, which turned out to be about 5 hours after I had eaten.

I don’t want this story to seem like I am ungrateful for the hospitality I experienced that day. I don’t want it to appear as a complaint or critique of Mozambican culture. What I learned that day and in the weeks to follow has been valuable to me in ways that I can’t even fully describe right now. It was an experience that brought me back down to earth and reminded me that I have such a long road ahead of me to understand Mozambicans and authentically join them in solidarity and understanding while I’m here.

Yesterday I told this story to my local language teacher, Erlina. She could hear the frustration in my voice while I stumbled through Portuguese to get my point across and could see that I was genuinely confused by the entire interaction. While she patiently waiting for me to finish telling my story, I could see the gears turning in her head. She was waiting to impart her wisdom on me, and I’m so glad she did.

“I want you to know a few things about Mozambican hospitality,” she told us.

“For Mozambicans—and Africans in general, perhaps—hospitality is so much more than what meets the eye. It is part of the legends and stories that we have. When a guest comes to your home, your community, or your place of worship, we believe that they are an angel. It does not matter what they look like. It doesn’t matter if they are rich, or poor. It doesn’t matter what their occupation is or what they believe in. They have come down from the heavens to be with us and we see them as a gift from God. We want them to be happy because there is nothing more important to us than the company of our neighbors and friends and when you come to visit us, you are making us happy with your presence. That is why your family always makes sure you have a chair to sit in. That is why they always ask you to serve food to yourself first. That is why they will always give you the best part of the food and the best of everything, for that matter. Please do not forget that. When you reject our hospitality, you are ignoring our culture and rejecting our kindness.”

What Erlina said proved to be true in so many situations that I’ve been in here in Mozambique. I had been constantly asking myself, why are people treating me like this? I haven’t earned their trust or even worked hard enough for their friendship. They don’t even know me. I didn’t do anything to deserve this kind of kindness and openness. Thanks to Erlina’s patient explanation and many conversations with Mozambicans about this topic, I finally feel like I’m beginning to understand what this all means.

In my culture, we do show each other hospitality in a variety of ways. We are capable of being as warm, inviting, and kind to our neighbors and friends as Mozambicans are. However, it is not as widely accepted (in my experience) for people to do this without any strings attached, without a sense of reciprocity, without thinking about what people deserve or have earned for themselves. I think we as Americans do have these values—unconditional love, charity, and hospitality—and we tell stories in children’s books and oral histories about what those values mean to us. However, I often fail to see how we live them out in our day-to-day lives as Americans. I know I’ve failed myself and my friends and neighbors in this department and perhaps you have, too.

When Erlina described what hospitality means to her, she also told me about a legend where an old, crippled, disheveled man was rejected hospitality by one family and received by another. It’s a story that sounds familiar to ones I heard as a child in various formats, but fail to see demonstrated as an integral part of my American culture. That is not the case, however, for Mozambicans as far as I can see. The way I see it, they truly practice what they preach and have made hospitality a central part of who they are as people. 

Today, I reflect on what hospitality means to me. How have I been received hospitably in Mozambique and other parts of the world? How is that similar or different than my experiences in the states? What can I do to be more hospitable to my family, friends, and neighbors?

The way we treat each other makes such a giant impact on the world and even though the smallest of interactions feel insignificant, I believe that they really do matter in the long run. So whether it’s forcing me to sit in a chair (even when I already planted myself on the floor), telling me to “come mais” (eat more!), or giving me the nicest, freshest banana after dinner, I will always be grateful for the hospitality I receive here and I hope that I can find a way to return it as much as I can.

With love,

Emily




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