Bruxismo

Bruxism.

A trip to the dentist today. On the way I saw a bloke talking to a friend in the street, and he signed off by saying ‘bs’ as he walked away. I am not sure but I hoped it meant beijos, or ‘kisses’ in English. Although Mozambican society bristles with machoism in many ways, I love the way that men showing affection to each other, especially physically through hand holding, isn’t stigmatised as ‘less manly’ as it would be in the societies we traditionally (and stupidly, outdatedly, patronisingly, we’ve just gotta stop…) label as more ‘developed’. If development means more stigma attached to two mates clasping hands as they chat, then give me undeveloped…

Anyway, I digress. As I am still suffering from mouth pain and am on soups and yogurt like a toothless invalid, the dentist x-rayed and poked around for a while, gave a puzzled look, and went to consult with a colleague. She returned and announced a diagnosis of bruxism, or teeth grinding, to explain the jaw pain. Suddenly the random jaw clicking that first appeared during the first UK lockdown made sense. I hadn’t been aware of teeth grinding but it makes sense based on the stress I’ve felt since that period, especially up to the point where I left my old job.

Considering two main factors, 1) the desire to open my mouth wide enough to eat a sandwich pain-free, and 2) my new job having decent dental insurance coverage, I decided to go to town with the suggested treatment of a mouthguard to wear at night. Fairly soon after I was spirited into the room of another dentist, João, who slapped a handful of fruit flavoured orange paste into my mouth to create a mould, and sang along to the background track of Alejandro by Lady Gaga. I wanted to join but was too busy gagging, which he assured me was quite normal.

Maputo Cathedral rocks.