Family Ties

The Corleones, the Kennedys, the Kardashians. Heck, the Simpsons. All tight-knit, powerful families in their own right. A bit touchy on who gets in though.

Keeping it in the family.

And family is something I’ve been thinking a lot about because in a few short days my brave mother, who until recently has never had a passport, will venture to Mozambique to not only see where I’ve been living for the past 2 years, but to help me say goodbye to my Mozambican family.

And a big Mozambican family I have because here, selection is not very exclusive. Everyone more or less considers each other family. Walking down the street people address each other as Brother, Uncle, Mom, or any other appropriate family member. It took me the longest time to figure out that not everyone was actually related in that way. For a while I thought I was living in the most incestuous place in the world. What I eventually learned is that family is a more general, inclusive concept. Everybody claims everybody as family. You could be the blackest of black sheeps and have nothing to worry about because family is so communal. You are the daughter, son, or nephew of everyone so your immediate family would have lots of help sharing your embarrassment.

And no one is just Fatima or Mussa or João. They are Sister Fatima or Brother Mussa or Uncle João. The whole Mozambican culture operates as one big family. Addressing someone, even if you’ve just met, as Uncle or Mother or Sister is a sign of respect and endearment.

In Angoche, I am known as…

Tia Margarida=Aunt Margarida
Filha Margarida=Daughter Margarida
Teeeeeecher Margarida=Teacher Margarida

But mostly as…

Mana Margarida=Sister Margarida.

I absolutely love it. It is nice here to always be considered part of the family. And I’m sorry to those back home if I have annoyingly started addressing you as Mano or Mana or any other Mozambican family term. I’m not trying to be esoteric. I can’t help it. I just love it and what it means. You are not just my friend or acquaintance. You are my family.

Plus, despite being here 2 years, there are still some names that are not only hard to pronounce, (Iahiah, Muazarea, Zainadine) but hard to remember. In which case I can just call this person whatever family member I pluck out of my head. Maybe it is enabling my laziness, but Mozambicans love it. I am part of their family and they are part of mine.

Through the years, a name undergoes transformations. I can always tell if someone knows my Mom from high school, college, or work by whichever name they call her.

I grew up Margaret. At college, I was Margo, and in Mozambique I am Mana Margarida.

It will be hard to not have the Mana. It will be hard to not have that family.
Still, I am so excited for my Mom to get initiated into the Mozambican family system. Several of my students here are already preparing for the arrival of “Nossa Mãe,” or Mother Nora.

I can’t wait for my Mom to see that although I’ve been away from my real family for so long, I’ve been adopted into so many others.

And soon enough, she will be too.