Condoms and Khisimusi in the Kingdom

We have obtained permission from the major grocery store (think King Soopers, but maybe 1/20^th the size, and 1/100^th the selection) and also permission from a smaller store to leave boxes of condoms for people to take, for free, and we have been regularly replenishing those locations with condoms we bring in our backpacks from PC headquarters in Mbabane (3 khumbi rides away), although now we're all out. Nompumelelo has wanted to distribute condoms and also demonstrate proper condom use at the town bar. The bar is dark, really noisy, and full of drunks most of the day, and is one of the few places here where I feel a little vulnerable. Nonetheless, we arranged with the owner to be allowed to visit with her customers this past Sunday afternoon, but they were watching a football game and there was no way we could be heard inside the bar, so we went to the picnic table outside and gave several demonstrations on our life-sized models of male and female genitalia of the proper installation and use of the male and female condoms. Some heavy kidding and loud interruptions from some of the more inebriated patrons, but the women (very few women were there) were closely attentive, especially when Katherine told them how much more vulnerable women are to HIV than men, because of anatomy and social norms. Then we went inside, where it was dark, noisy and crowded with maybe 70 men and maybe 8 women, and handed out free condoms till we ran out. The women really wanted the female condoms, but they are hard to get and we didn't have many. People don't like having their picture taken, so I did not photograph the demonstrations, but afterwords we bought a beer and went out to the tables outside, and were mostly courteously received. We viewed having this beer late afternoon with our new friends as finishing our week of library work (although we had a full morning of that left on Monday ) and starting the holiday festivities for us.

 

Doing these condom demonstrations in this bar was really hard. Few would have been brave enough to go to that bar and talk about use of condoms, much less pull out models of male and then female genitalia and shown how condoms are used. Some of the drunks were belligerent. Nomphumelelo handled them all with humor and grace , and got her point across, mostly. She really is extraordinary. Working and just living in this country has brought out in her skills and behavior barely hinted at in our 39 years together in the US. I am constantly in awe at what I'm seeing from her. Not just boldness, as at the bar, but quick thinking in remembering the names of many of the people we've met and what is of interest to each of them, and coming up with ingenious ways to move our projects here forward.

As we walked home in the golden light of the end of the afternoon several groups we passed asked for condoms. Initially I was a little dismayed thinking that we were now known in our community as the free condom couple, but on further review, it seemed OK.

We had believed Katherine would be just getting back now from a last visit with her father, and so we scheduled a quiet Christmas at this farm B&B near our site where we had stayed in September for one beautiful night. Katherine's December trip was however canceled when her father died so much more quickly than expected. When we booked this place we'd sent an invitation to the PCVs in our group if they wanted to join us at the “backpackers” part of this place (US$15/night, compared to $65/night in the separate “chalet”), but Christmas with people their parents' age didn't seem to appeal to them, and I think they wanted a little more action, so they all got together at a hostel closer to town, and also at a site in the mountains where they will cook and drink and sleep on the floor.

Here we are arriving at our B&B, loaded with computer, clothes for 3 days, and some gifts my thoughtful, clever and generous sister bought, wrapped and sent before Thanksgiving!

We assembled the small Christmas tree she had sent, to set the right tone, listening to the Nutcracke We had Christmas breakfast on the porch of our chalet

In the late afternoon I “braiied” (South African for grilled) our Christmas steak dinner, from cattle from the farm.

It was overcast and cool (60s, probably) Christmas day. Unfortunately the adjacent travel days were sunny and really hot. The store where we shopped to buy for our Christmas visit (these places are generally self-catering) was packed, check-out lines extending up the aisles to the back of the store – gridlock! We were really glad to get to our B&B and relax, swim, and cool off!

We try to catch the BBC South Africa 6:30 a.m. Broadcast on a shortwave radio Bob Keyser gave us, which we enjoy immensely. The 2^nd ½ of each broadcast is typically soccer and cricket. Imagine our surprise a few days ago to hear of Peyton Manning breaking the season passing record. But it said only that he played “American football,” and nothing was mentioned of the fortunes of his team; we assume the Broncos must have done well, with that much passing success. Not much ground game? Playoffs?

This posting and the previous one were, I know, kind of wordy. Sorry. No worries, there will not be a test. Just wanted to set the scene. Incwala and the bar were not much for photo ops. So I hope all of you had, as we say here, Khisimusi lomuhle (beautiful Christmas).

"'Twas the week before Xmas" plus some July 4 and Thanksgiving too

Friday day we attended part of Incwala, roughly translated as “first fruits festival”, one of the 2 key peculiarly Swazi holidays. (The other is in August, when teenage “virgins” (defined as not having given birth) dance for the king; some years he chooses a new wife from among them, as he did this year. Those of us who are trying to prevent the spread of HIV through what is known in the trade as “multiple concurrent sexual partners” would prefer a different behavioral modeling, but I digress.)

The date of Incwala is chosen in part around the full moon and the solstice, but the particular day was decreed by the king only a week or so ago, and businesses were instructed not to open, or to close by 1 PM. (Imagine the howl from retailers in the US if that occurred 5 days before Christmas – there have been decorations and western-style Christmas carols in the stores since mid-November, or earlier.) Previously “regiments” of young men had walked to the Indian Ocean and to a river in South Africa (the Limpopo) and brought back water; I've noted that both are areas once included in Swaziland, and wondered whether there is some territorial longing involved here, but those I have asked deny it. As these “water people” come through the communities they impose a small “voluntary” fine, which reminded us a little of the monks in Thailand; we think the man who hit us up was disappointed in our contribution, but we are volunteers.

After the water is brought back the regiments and other men camp in fields near the king's residence in the beautiful Ezulweni Valley. Several days of rituals involved gathering sacred herbs, slaughtering a bull (reputedly with their bare hands!), weeding the king's fields, and gathering wood for fires and the King's Kraal (“corral” is derived from that word) culminate in the main event, which we attended.

The stores in Manzini, the commercial center of the country, were mostly closed, and those that were open were nearly empty, as were the streets as we came through in the morning. We took a khumbi to the seat of government, where the King's residence, Kraal, and the building where parliament meets are all located together (so, the equivalent of the Washington DC mall). We arrived by 10:30, and little was happening, met up with some other PCVs, had some lunch, waited some more, and by 2 PM wandered towards the King's Kraal, shown in the background of this picture of Abdul and Lauren, PCVs from the group ahead of us.

 

We then had to separate, with the women going through a separate entrance, and getting a better view, because there were far fewer of them.

My friend Abdul, from the PC group ahead of us, and I went through the metal detector, passed the ornate marching band, and into the Kraal, and joined around 3 thousand men in rows around our end of the Kraal, which was around 120 yards in diameter. The men were dressed as I show in the picture, which is of the Member of Parliament from our area (on my right), although the MP has more of a headdress than most. The man beside him did not go in to “dance;” I was one of only a very few in “civvies” who went into the Kraal. I wonder if that offended some?

The crowd was mostly silent except for a rhythmic low chant and treading of feet in time, and occasional shrill whistles. Manifestly the Kraal continues to be used for its original purpose, when Incwala was not happening, as piles all around, including right at my feet, attested.

Throughout this country we have been generally warmly welcomed, but here we were only tolerated. When I wasn't holding my ritual branch (4 Rand = 40 US cents) correctly (I was leaning on it – a long day), and especially when I tried to take a picture inside the Kraal, I was corrected, sternly concerning the camera. No one offered an explanation, partly because they were concentrating on what they were doing, and partly because men in their 40s and up in this country are the weakest in English, and my siSwati is even weaker than their English. Many men were there with their sons in what was clearly an oft-repeated generational ritual. Many greeted each other warmly; the regiments are drawn from throughout the country, in a conscious and, I think, highly successful attempt to instill friendships and a feeling of national unity.

The King came out and walked around the enclosure and performed some rituals, but I could barely see. I've read about them since. We needed to catch a khumbi and then a bus back to our village and walk 2 km, and we don't like to be on our road after dark, so we had arranged with the ladies to meet outside the Kraal at 4. When we got back to our homestead our host family was fascinated that we had attended Incwala. Their explanation of the fact that this was the first event I'd attended of more than a dozen people in this country that did not open and close with a Christian prayer was that the whole event was worship – thanks for the first fruits, as well as a celebration of kingship. Nonetheless, I was struck by the total absence of any Christian reference, in a central ceremony in a country that is insistently and aggressively Christian in every other public event. My outsider's explanation is that the Christian overlay is only 170 years old here and goes only so deep, and this ritual is older and parallel to, but separate from, Swazi Christianity.

     Those of you who have been reading our blogs probably think we spend all our time in game preserves and cultural events. I wish. Those visits are the photo ops. Everyone has gone home from the schools, but Nomphumelelo has become so frustrated with the unavailability of library at the Railway Primary School (the better school where we have been teaching) that we've spent most days this past week labeling, alphabetizing, and listing on our computer the books they received last fall (May, '13) through the Books For Africa application of our predecessor PCVs. We've been reading to the children on the playground, and they've become more insistent, asking when they can read and take out the books from the library. When, indeed. It's really hard to get some things to happen in this country, and the teacher who was supposed to get the library up is not interested, so nothing was done. Here is the library, as we are working on the organization. New Home Ec classrooms are being completed and construction materials for that are stored in the library which is not, after all, being used for anything now. Grrr.

We have heard from some of you that you have donated to Books for Africa in response to our earlier blog requests. Thank you for your generous responses – we are very touched that you would support us and a project important to us this way. If we are successful in our application (should hear any day now) we will do all we can to be sure the books quickly become available to the students at the local high school for which we applied. We do not have a list of who gave yet, which is why we have not been able to thank you, so we will here – thanks very, very much!! We think these books are greatly desired, and important.

I have been trying to find a way to reduce the size of pictures that I send, to save me and you time downloading and help them fit on your screen. I think I have a way. Let me know if the pictures in this blog are a better size, or not.

Mlawula Game Preserve and some Christmas in Swaziland

I spent 3 days last week in the PC office in the capital, Mbabane, helping produce the December issue of the monthly PC SZ newsletter and learning the Publisher program and how to create a newsletter. Learning the technology to communicate a little in this country has been one of the more difficult aspects of being here: tethering our computer to the different phones, buying and transferring airtime and data, protecting our computer, the many passwords to keep track of and virus attacks to try to avoid. Working through the PC SZ office computers, scanner, printer and router, coordinating with data from the newsletter email and from various other computers, and learning how to insert text and photos, was yet another maize of puzzles. Hope I remember for my next foray, which won't, unfortunately, be till February. The previous year's PCVs were extremely helpful in the learning process. For those masochists inexplicably feeling the need for even more Fulford writing, there are 2 KUF (one on SZ birds – illustrated!) and several Mark articles in the December issue we put out.  It should be posted in Peace Corps at http://swaziland.peacecorps.gov/newsletters.php , but I just went there and noticed our edition hasn't been posted yet; we have much to learn. 

The services for Katherine's father are in Concord, NH January 11, 2014. The PC is flying Katherine back on “emergency personal leave” and they are allowing me to go without charging me vacation time; they love Katherine, and have been very thoughtful, responsive and supportive in dealing with this, although pinning down the travel arrangements in 2 languages, with erratic and uncertain communication, changing plans, and critical people on vacation has been a little stressful as we've worked through the details and caught and corrected misunderstandings and mistakes, re-sent emails and text messages, and coordinated with Katherine's siblings, who have carried all the burden of winding up their father's affairs.

Earlier in the week a volunteer from the previous group whom we like a lot asked if we wanted to go with her and her friend Daniel to a nature preserve in the northeast of the country that can't be reached or explored effectively by public transportation or on foot. He is a German computer specialist whom she met in Bloomington, Ill. (not a typo – Illinois) and he came here and has held several jobs. And he has a 4WD truck!

The preserve is on the “mountains” (2000') on the Eastern edge of the country and is known as a great birding destination because of the variety of terrain, but we had only limited success with the birds. A spectacular Malachite Kingfisher was the high point. We saw some zebra, wildebeest, kudu, impala and tortoises.

It was beautiful, very comfortable, and really nice to be with our friends. We had cool and delicious 10 proof cider on the treetop bar overlooking the valley,

hiked and explored some,

swam in the pool,

and posed after a plentiful breakfast

before we left for the 98°F heat in our hut.

Last week 2 PCVs from our group came by, we showed them around, and they came back to our hut for lunch. It occurred to us that was our Christmas party for '13; we should have put out the decorations my sister thoughtfully sent us before Thanksgiving. In weather always in the 70s, sometimes close to 100 F, its hard to feel very Christmassy.

We showed them the refugee camp, where we were happy to see that some beautiful new playground equipment had been installed. But the gates were locked and blocked with barricades of acacia branches; a functionary from some ministry had to come to “launch” the playground. We see this frequently – a project gets nearly ready to be useful, but is then stopped, and no one can enjoy it. In showing our friends the library, the gate was left open, and soon dozens of children had streamed into the playground. Two of them were students I have taught at the local primary schools; when they came up and greeted me I had them pose.

Christmas came early this year for me, in a sense. The Peace Corps pays part of the purchase price for a bike it you can make a case you need it for work. I was awarded US $250, and after much investigation I bought an 18 speed Axis (I think its South African) with front shocks. Brought it back to our site from Manzini in the boot of a bus; I'd have loved to have ridden the 25 miles, but not on the 2-lane road with the heavy trucks speeding by.  So when I got back, I had to take it for a spin, even in the rain.

 

Thanksgiving, and Katherine's father

The PC Country Director had all 70+ PCVs and whomever wanted to come from the embassy to his house for Thanksgiving. It was really fun to see all of our group, find out about their sites and work, and madly trade media. (“So great to see ya – didja bring your hard drive? Got Parks & Rec, Seasons 3 & 4? Ah, any Mozart or Beethoven?” Much better luck with the former than the latter.) It was also good to be on a closer to equal footing with the group who have been here a year; we've now finished “Integration Period” so we can travel and stay anywhere in the country for 2 nights or less and it doesn't count as vacation, and no prior approval required, as would be the case if we left the country. This is one of the few contexts in which I regret the small size of this country, but there are still many interesting and beautiful places we want to visit here. And plenty to show any visitors who choose to come through!

I was immediately volunteered to assist the Country Director in surgery on 7 turkeys cooked at the local grocery chain's kitchens – interesting how certain age/gender role stereotypes linger.

He addressed the group on his lawn, his house in the background. You can't see, but there's a 10' wall all around his property.

And then we plowed into a terrific Thanksgiving feast.

When we got back our Babe (the father in the homestead, pronounced bâbē) was shaking something from the tree to the ground and gathering them for his Make (the mom in the homestead, Babe's wife, pronounced mâgē) and Gogo (the grandmother in the homestead, actually his brother's widow, but here roles are more important than actual relationships; bosisi and bobhuti (sisters and brothers) can have 1 or even 2 different parents). Yumm, caterpillers. I think you roast them. We told them we already had dinner plans.

The next morning Babe and 3 neighbor boys who were helping him poured milk out of a gourd, where it had been sitting for 3 days, ladled out the more solid part (curd?), filtered that, and set it aside to be eaten – emasi = sour milk. A delicacy!

Katherine learned 2 weeks ago that her father's cancer has come back and was all through his body, and that he did not have long. She quickly arranged with the PC to fly out yesterday to see him one last time, but he died Monday; she was able to talk with him briefly 2 days before he died, and she had been talking with him about weekly all this spring. His loss is hard for her under any circumstances; being so far away, with the erratic communications, compounds the pain and has been stressful as plans have had to be quickly revised.

Fred Upton was, in his time, the preeminent lawyer in New Hampshire, doing it the old-fashioned way: a bank charter this morning, estate plan this afternoon, securities offering tomorrow, and a jury trial next week. And tops at all of them. Vigorous, witty, widely read and full of wry humor, he's been fighting various cancers for 10 years now, not to mention 3 joint replacements. He was loved and respected in the legal community, and was brought in, even in his retirement, when they had a tough problem.

He'd have been 95 Dec. 21. We should all have such a full life.

Katherine's family have been extremely loving, understanding and supportive to her, letting us know of developments, and scheduling a memorial service when she would have been in NH and then re-scheduling for January 11, in Concord NH, when Katherine will now go back. And the PC has also been responsive and supportive, swiftly making and then canceling travel plans this week and then reaching out to get Katherine “emergency” personal leave for the trip back in January. Like everyone in SZ, the PC management loves Katherine and wanted to help her all they could, and our fellow PCVs have, in their inimitable ways, shown their support and sorrow – one lovely letter in particular, and then a play list of appropriate songs on a flashdrive. We were really touched.

Katherine will go back for the January 11 service, and Mark – I'll be just fine; I'm learning to cook beans - you have to wash them a whole lot to get the gravel out, and then boil them and let them soak for a day. Some other stuff too. No barbecue or pizza joints within walking distance.

Books for Africa

Some of you have inquired about sending books directly to us for the libraries we are helping to establish. It would be prohibitively expensive for you individually to ship books directly to us. Books for Africa/Books for Swaziland is a nonprofit in the US which has teamed up with the Peace Corps and has a good system for collecting and shipping used and overstocked books. The books are sent by cargo ship to Durban, SA and then trucked to Swaziland. If you feel so inclined, giving a donation would help more than sending books. PC volunteers in Swaziland need to raise approximately $7,000 or half the cost of shipping and training school librarians. Here are the links for contributions: https://donate.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=14-645-001 (Books for Swaziland

or

https://donate.peacecorps.gov

Request to consider a donation to Books For Africa

This blog is a request that you consider a donation to Books for Africa, an organization to which we have made an application for a library in our community.

The High School in our community is across the dirt road from our homestead. There are 536 students in forms 1 to 5 with between 40 and 80 students per class. The students and teachers have been very welcoming to us. Mark is helping teach the Shakespeare class and we both helped coach the Jr. Achievement club. We plan to make the school one of our main volunteer projects, teaching Life Skills, which includes the fundamentals about HIV transmission, some general information on health and nutrition, and some exercises in trying to make good choices and stand up to pressure. The kids who go to this High School are mostly poor. Their parents, if they have them (many are single or double orphans) typically struggle to pay their school fees.

Last year the school did poorly on the English section of the national exams, receiving a 12% credit rate (C or above – necessary for college admission) and 24% pass rate. We want to help them improve those scores, because knowing English will greatly enhance their futures. With our help, the school has applied to Books for Africa/Books for Swaziland for a grant of 1000 books to replace the decades-old, tattered, dusty and generally unappealing books in the school library. While we don't know if our High School will be chosen, the program hopes to start or improve 30 libraries in Swaziland this year, and our personal view is that this High School is a top candidate to receive a grant.

We attach a picture of the current library and the newly formed Library Committee, submitted with our BFA application.

Many of you have asked how you can help us. The books for this program are donated, but need to be shipped from the US. Additionally, there is training for the designated “librarian” from each school. The Peace Corps has set up a way for family and friends to support volunteers. If you are interested, please check out the following links: 
https://donate.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=14-645-001 (Books for Swaziland) or go to https://donate.peacecorps.gov and put in the project number 14-645-001  

 

 There may be other opportunities in the coming months to help us help the people in Swaziland, some perhaps where all of the funds go only to our particular project, as distinct from BFA, where your donation helps 30 different libraries in the country.

Reading and teaching

We were at the public primary school earlier this week, and because exams are done (there are 2 more weeks of school, but the teachers show up and grade exams, and the students pretty much do nothing), we had an easy audience. Katherine read Roald Dahl's The Fantastic Mr. Fox, which I think our children enjoyed. These kids ate it up. We've learned that, among the things which we don't want to leave home without (TP, camera, small binoculars, notebook to record yet another polysyllabic name), one is a book we can read to 5 to 15 year olds (not easy to find in these spare libraries) should we have some downtime around one of our 3 schools. They push in on us, as those in back press in to see the pictures.

So we did the same during the ½ hour mid-morning break at the more prosperous “Railway” (subsidized by the Railway) school, where the students are way more advanced. As I'd hold the book up to show the pictures, the kids would start reading aloud the next part, but I would do the fun voices myself; my ogre from Jack & the Beanstalk (“Fe, fi, fo fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman”) got especially good reviews. Haven't had so much fun since I played Santa for neighbor Molly's children, and frightened most of them, till I was told I had to dial it back.

Then we team taught (but mostly Nomphumelelo) the Railway 6^th grade a lesson in “self-esteem”, which is thought to be important in making good choices, especially for girls. When they got a little rowdy, she did her piercing whistle – boy did that get their attention. My outing with them last week to the 7^th grade farewell pizza party helped me get to know them better than before, which makes this more fun, seeing the different personalities.

 

Phumi had them write 10 sentences about themselves, describing themselves, each beginning “I am . . . .” Some were just borrowed from our discussion, others were quite moving. “I am lonely.” “I have no friends.” Others very encouraging: “I am smart.” Many had picked up the Girls, Inc. motto from Phumi: Strong, Smart and Bold.

Spring birding

It is spring time in southern Africa! With the rains our dry lowveld part of Swaziland has turned green. There are some spectacular flowering trees in vivid red, purple and orange and even some colorful wildflowers. One flower, in particular, is a bright orange puff ball. In the last few days we have seen quite a few new birds. A new bird always makes me happy and I am learning to find joy in simple pleasures. We have found a bird-productive loop to walk taking us past homesteads of people we know, pastures, and kraals. There are always baby chicks, but lately new born calves and kids. Below is a list of birds seen since my last listing at the end of July.

White-face duck

Spotted Thick-knee

Crowned Lapwing

Black-shouldered Kite

Namaqua Dove

Lesser Striped Swallow

Crowned Hornbill

African Hoopoe

White-eared Barbet

Forked-tailed Drongo

Groundscraper Thrush

White-browned Robin-Chat

Violet-backed Starling

Scarlet-chested Sunbird

Amethyst Sunbird

White-bellied Sunbird

Southern Double-collared Sunbird

Marico Sunbird

House Sparrow

Southern Grey-headed Sparrow

Southern Masked-Weaver

Southern Red Bishop

Fan-tailed Widowbird

Pin-tailed Whydah

African Firefinch

Common Waxbill

African Paradise Flycather

Cape Glossy Starling

Chinspot Batis

Southern Black Flycather

Kurrichane Thursh

Diderick Cuckoo

Red-billed Oxpecker

Birds, pizza, and a loss

We now appear to be entering kind of a 3 month quiet spell, from what we can tell. The students are taking exams this past week and our classes were canceled (but not before we'd prepared a lesson plan on “self-esteem” and showed up ready to teach it), school ends in 3 weeks and the students and teachers all go home. Our 3 month lockdown “Integration Period” ends Thanksgiving Day, which we'll celebrate with Thanksgiving dinner at the home of the PC Country Director, with Embassy staff. The following week we have a 3 day training with our Swazi counterparts on “Project Design and Management.” Although it sounds hideously bureaucratic, which the PC easily slips into sometimes, we hear it's one of the better training sessions. I'm bringing a bright young English teacher/librarian from the local High School – part of the goal is to get us working well with our local Swazi counterparts, so they take ownership, do a lot of the work, and so that our projects here are sustainable once we leave in 2015. Once school ends in the first week of December we understand the country more or less shuts down for the Christmas break, until school resumes January 21. KUF is having more trouble landing a good counterpart because her first and second choices were too busy with the last week of school

It's now boiling hot, and in our metal-roofed hut the temperature is in the high 90s or worse by 11 a.m., and doesn't cool down til 8 PM or so. All of which is preface to say that Thursday morning, after a visit to one of the primary schools where we've been working to try to line up a counterpart for Katherine for the December training, we took the bus 45 miles further east and north to Hlane Royal National Park, a game preserve where the Kings used to kill lions, but now it is well-preserved, has giraffe, elephants and hippos, plus fine birds. Here we are, having got off the bus and walked 100 yards to the gate. Once we got there we were accompanied by an armed guard until we got inside the electric fence protecting the reception area, but curiously lions were viewed as uninterested in passengers disembarking from the bus outside the gate; anyway, we survived.

We saw a total of 7 new birds. Here we are at lunch, where we saw 2 new birds, I think. This looks out 150 yards to the hippo pool.

Practically the first bird we saw, nesting in a low-hanging bough just 15 feet away, was an African Paradise Flycatcher, a 3” bird with a dark blue head, bright blue eye-ring, reddish-brown back, and then an improbable reddish-brown tail 20” long!

We suffered a setback on our return; when we arrived home we could not find the pocket-sized book of Birds of Southern Africa. Maybe left in the restroom – we were tired and hot, or maybe it fell out in the cab of the truck in which we hitched a ride home. (We get rides very quickly, and feel quite safe; South Africa would be a different story, we are told.) We are asking our daughter, who found this for us originally, to try to get us another.

The 7^th grade has now taken their high-intensity national exams and finished primary school (those who passed), so a farewell pizza party was held 25 miles away, at a chain restaurant in one of the nicer shopping centers in the country. We all piled into public transport, and arrived at about 9:30, and then sat and all 80 students (the 6^th grade came, as well) waited patiently for the pizza and plates of sausage and wraps to be served, around noon. All remarkably well-behaved. That broke down a little as they served the dessert, thick chocolate cake with ice cream, and the sugar high set in. I failed to get a picture of the little boy in a shiny black 3 piece suit, or the girls in their cocktail dresses – aged 13 and 14, mostly. Here they are waiting to be served, 7^th grade at the table, 6^th in 2 very crowded rows in back. The 2 mugging are 2 of the brighter 6th grade girls, whom I like a lot, although they can be mischievous.  I had sat next to the one on the right in pink and started reading to her from a Disney book about Princess Jasmine, and then she took over and read it to me.  I need to get her more books.  The school library received 1,000 new books in March through the previous PCVs, but they have not been "registered" (listed, I guess), so the students aren't allowed to touch them.  Makes me crazy.  We're going to get past that.

Tailoring, diabetes, and the Principal's Office

Last week Mark had some pants and jeans altered. Our friend Daniel in the cluster of shops at the crossroads took in the waist of 2 pairs of pants and shortened my new jeans, all for US $5. Services in this country cost nothing. Daniel took just over 24 hours, because he was very busy preparing the gowns for the pre-school graduations, which are a big deal around here. Here is his shop.

We have been struck by the prevalence of diabetes in our communities, both during initial training, and here at our permanent site, especially among women over 50, and we had wondered whether some targeted health education might bring big returns. When we heard that one of the PCVs whom we like a lot from the previous group (now 17/27ths into their 27 month service) had organized a day of instruction and demonstration on preventing diabetes, we took an early morning series of bus, khumbi, and hitching rides 30 miles back to the west and attended the days event.

90% of the diabetes here is type 2, resulting from excess body weight and physical inactivity, similar to what is found in some inner cities in the US. So the focus was on nutrition and exercise.

The event started with a march, complete with drum majorettes from the local primary school, and then a session of aerobic exercise. We helped prepare a healthy lunch of locally sourced healthy foods that are within the Swazi food preferences.

We may try something like this in our community, although the “counterpart” (Swazi involved in the project) for the event we attended is the daughter of the president of the nascent Swazi Diabetes Association, and was extremely enthusiastic; we do not know of an equivalent counterpart for us in our community. We are learning that the best projects are ones originating from the enthusiasms of the counterparts, not the volunteers, because the counterparts will work on and bring their friends into projects in which they are interested, and those projects meet the PC “sustainability” goal. We are now at the stage where we are planning our work for the next period, and we are exploring what we will do. We know we want to teach at all 3 local schools, one affluent primary, subsidized by the railroad, and another primary and the high school, the latter 2 severely under-funded and lacking in many areas. We plan to teach “life skills,” including goals, decision-making, self-esteem, nutrition, and sex and safety information. We are having a lot of success, we think, with team teaching, and this enables us to separate a class into boys' and girls' groups, get and give candid answers and information, and then sometimes compare for the whole class what the different groups were thinking.

Here is a picture of Katherine waiting outside the High School Principal's office. No, she hasn't been bad; we are waiting to see him to try to pin down exactly what we will do at the High School next term, starting in January; we need to coordinate subjects and schedule among the 3 schools – they are several kilometers apart, and we walk everywhere. We also need to get his authorization to bring a “counterpart” to training in December.

 

sorry, I think the pix got all mixed around, but this connection is so slow, and I forgot to bring the wireless mouse Martha and Tyler got us with the computer, and I can't get them straightened out.  Sorry.

 

COMING HOME

We were welcomed back into our community after being gone for almost two weeks of training,
and it felt good. We ran into friends, students, teachers, and bomake (women vendors) at the local shop and on our long walk to our homestead with heavy packs who greeted us by name and asked where we'd been. One of our favorite high school students Joanah gave me a big hug and said she'd missed us. With somewhat improved siSwati, we have been able to communicate better with out host family. We are the only white people (balungu) in our community so it is easier for them to remember us than for us to come up with their names, quite often. Sometimes I have to ask how a person knows me, but I recognized by name an English teacher from the high school who was on our return khumbie.

One of our personal goals in joining the Peace Corps was to become part of our new community; to become friends and neighbors to those living around us. I hope we will do meaningful work here, but it is the one-to-one connection with people, sharing the good and bad, which will have lasting value. My Site Support Agent, Sizakeli, an umgcugcuteli or Rural Health Motivator, joined us for lunch yesterday. She had showed up 2 hours early for work at the kitchen of the high school just opposite the gate to our homestead, because she does not have a watch and lost her cell phone 2 months ago, and we were coming back from a walk, so we invited her in. She is a poor, hard working woman with 4 children, and a deadbeat husband whom they haven't heard from for years. She has a gap-toothed grin, is cheerful, savvy and resilient. Over French Toast (a first for her) we talked about commercial sex workers, handing out condoms and religion. She is a devote Jericho. Sizakeli told me she would cry when I leave, because we are good friends. This is beginning to feel like home.

Halloween

So most of our group and the previous group got together at a “backpackers” hostel near Manzini and near the training facility, for Halloween (actually, the weekend before Halloween). It was really fun.

Our day started out early, because we wake up early, and headed out and, just as we stepped off our homestead, weighted down with full backpacks with clothes for really hot and quite cool weather, computer, and language books, a small pickup stopped to pick us up on the 2 K walk up to the main road – really nice. Only 2 kids already in the back and no dogs, and the truck bed was pretty clean – a very good start! And as we got to the bus rank at the junction, a partially empty bus was about to pull out, so we got to get on with our backpacks, which meant the backpacks didn't have to go in the boot where we couldn't see them – with the computer that prospect had made me a little uneasy. And a little bakery where all the PCVs assemble near the Manzini bus rank was open, and we had a delicious breakfast there and visited as our group started to arrive, did some shopping and took a short khumbi ride to the hostel.

The hostel is a sprawling old house set back from the main road among some trees on a hillside. Most of the PCVs stayed in bunks in a co-ed dorm for US$12 each, but we splurged for US$15 each and got a separate little house all to ourselves – with a lovely hot shower and a sink, with hot running water and a mirror. You could also camp on a grassy lawn for US$8, and some put up tents, but it rained from 3 until around 9 PM, and they all moved inside and crashed on mattresses in the lounge.

Here we are, as we left, on a gray chilly Sunday morning.

It was really nice to reconnect with these kids and hear how they are doing. Its hard out there, and some of the most capable are having a hard time, just because they are in difficult situations: remote and can't get around well, or far too much to do and not enough help at an orphanage, or trying to teach 5^th grade math to deaf students using sign language – in siSwati! Yeah, the thought of even trying that dumbfounds me. There are some really smart kids here. Really, really smart.

The PCVs got dressed up in very clever costumes.

Mark is on the far left, back row. Middle row, standing: a mosquito net, then a Swazi school girl in school uniform, an 80's workout instructor, cat woman, a greek goddess, spider woman, a 60s hippy. Front row, kneeling: Not sure who the 1^st person on the left was trying to be; then Pocahontas in a clever costume made from a slip and parts of old mosquito netting; Pipi Longstocking, and a “Care Package” - my favorite.

Mark went in a double costume: a scary old guy wearing the attractive hair extensions frequently worn by Swazi women, which were then removed upon request to reveal an even more scary Swazi haircut, now 3 weeks old and still showing parts that had never previously seen the sun. KUF wore a pink spotted dress and was the elusive pink spotted leopard..

Rumors Sipho danced on the bar, wearing a wig, joined by a scruffy guy with a moth-eaten beard wearing a red dress, are false and have been referred to our solicitor for an appropriate response. Well, OK, there was a small wall near the bar, I admit that. And there may have been some tastefully arranged hair extensions. And Abdul is a PCV (Yup, Abdul Ahmed – Muslim, from Oklahoma – ah, the diversity of our country!) from the previous group who has helped us with some lesson planning and whom we like a lot, and he looked really good in his girlfriend's dress. But dancing on the bar, like some kind of inebriated college kid? Nah.

Now we're back at the training facility, settling in for intensive language instruction and a “resource fair” later in the week with vets from the group that has been here a year showing us what materials can be helpful to us for lesson plans and youth group activities that have been loaded onto a flash drive and onto the Kindle the PC issued to us. And pursuing mutual exchange of resources – I've been getting some fine tunes from some of these kids – exploring new areas. Plus of course, exchanging movies. Don't tell ASCAP. The technology issues are daunting, but we're getting better – some of the other PCVs are very patient and helpful, and I'm getting exposed to lots of music that's new to me, including South African – Ladysmith and Xhosa, and the Vitamin Quartet and Civil Wars. It's taken me 3 or 4 efforts to learn the multiple steps involved (you can't copy directly from a flash drive into iTunes; you have to copy into My Music, then open a new folder in iTunes), but I'm now successfully downloading to the computer – its really complicated. Aren't you proud of me? Of all the challenges of this PC endeavor, the technology is right up there near the top. Where's the Sherman and Howard Help Desk when I need them?

Well, so far there is no WiFi at our training facility, so I'll just keep adding, because I can't send this out. After sitting in classes all day Monday and way over-eating because . . . well, the food was there, we didn't have to fix it . . . , anyway, some of our group were doing the “Animal Flow” exercise cycle Monday evening (pictured, MAYBE) and then some of us got up at 5 a.m. Tuesday to do the “Insanity” workout Katherine's walking group friends had sent us (also pictured; we understand there are some who have come to anticipate – is that the word? Dread? - the repeated topless pix of Mark. Kind of like a centerfold, or when the Sports Illustrated February bathing suit issue came out and immediately disappeared from the magazine stack at the gym.). We all go to sleep so early at our homesteads, and we're doing that here too (except for Saturday night, when we partied), and so we wake up early, so that wasn't as tough as it may seem in US terms, at least for some of you. Its a good workout – I'm still sore! Thanks, friends.

 

Lots of training during the week on language, teaching skills, and what we need for a successful project. Saturday morning we were unscheduled, so we went back to the homestead where we had lived in July and August during Pre-Service Training. Well into the spring now, it is all green and very beautiful there, and the avocados, mangoes and peaches are developing on the trees, but won't be ripe until later in the summer – January or February.

rain and packages!

We had heard that it can rain hard here in the summer, and that the spring rains are late this year, which is a serious issue in a region where there is much food insecurity. But we were not prepared for the rain, which started Thursday evening, and continued for four days, until Tuesday morning, sometimes just spitting, sometimes coming in torrents. On the corrugated metal roof of our hut it was sometimes deafening.

We had planned to go on Friday to a game reserve 30 miles away, but awoke to a continuing, driving rain. Pretty much the same Saturday, Sunday, and Monday. We never really left the hut. When we did we had to pick our way around increasingly deep puddles. You really plan your trips to the latrine – 50 yards away – under those circumstances. Sometimes the clouds would part briefly, then it would suddenly cloud up and pour. KUF stayed after a meeting at the local high school on Monday to try to get on the internet at their computer lab, and got pretty soaked on her way home.

The picture shows our homestead Tuesday morning. A sea of mud. The domestic helper tried to fit a wash into a brief opening Monday – no luck. Our hut is behind me; the main house is to the left of the picture.

And this shows me on the 1+ mile walk to the crossroads. We pass dozens, perhaps hundreds of chldren on their way from the bus rank to the local high school and to a primary school different from the one Mark teaches at. We bought the rain boots a few weeks ago in our local shopping town. Glad to have them.

We've now been in at least 2 classes at each of these schools, and we are fairly distinctive here, so many of the students we pass on the road know us, and some greet us by name as we pass, or just call out “teacher.” Kind of nice. We know a few of the students by name, too, which is even nicer. Some of the students walk in the rain with no rain gear. One yesterday was wearing plastic bags around her shoes.

We go Saturday to a “backpackers”, a species of low budget hostel that caters to the income (or lack thereof) bracket in which most of the PCVs can be found. Many of the 70 PCVs in the country (2 groups, one that had been here a year when we arrived, and our group of 33) are gathering to celebrate Halloween there this Saturday night. The hostel is near Manzini, the country's commercial hub. Then it is a short khumbi (van) ride to the training facility, where we stay Sunday night and then for another 10 days, till Nov. 7, for intensive language classes and training in “monitoring and evaluation” - an effort to see if we are doing any good here, and put quantifiable numbers to it. It would be easy to be skeptical, but I've learned to suspend disbelief, and the Peace Corps ends up making sense remarkably frequently.

Today was a special day. The Peace Corps driver, on routine rounds about the country (it's a very small country – the size of New Jersey), dropped off 2 packages, one from Mark's sister Martha, the other from KUF's “walking group” friends. These were very thoughtful responses to our needs. All the senders put a lot of care and effort into these packages.They are very, very much appreciated. Thanks very, very much.

XXX

Our clever, thoughtful and loving children sent off a care package which arrived Friday and contained, in addition to speakers which can play my iPod (Offenbach and the Dixie Chix – more similarities than you might at first have thought), a solar shower, which we've hung in the nifty tiled curtained shower area the previous volunteers and one of the young men on the homestead had built. Continuing the X-rated trend in this blog, the shower is pictured, in use! This was, unfortunately, one of the rare cool and cloudy days, so my shower was brief.

We administered to two 5^th and 6^th grades and to an 8^th and an 11^th grade class (250 students, total) a 32 question Family Health International survey of the students' knowledge of how NIV is transmitted, whether they know people who are infected (they do, but may not know it – 31% of the adults in this country are HIV+!), how they feel towards people they learn are infected, and to whom they turn for information about HIV. The idea is to see what is needed and who the persuaders are. Then we returned to each of the 6 classes and told them what the survey showed, focusing on correcting erroneous understandings and trying to persuade them to be more accepting of those known to be infected, because apparently secrecy and shame are major obstacles to treatment. We ended up team-teaching most of these feed-back sessions, which generally went really well; we both felt more comfortable with the other to help out in a strange classroom, and I like to think we modeled a respectful male/female sharing relationship.

Here is Katherine explaining the survey results, with, behind her on the board, a list of the four substances that can transmit HIV; you try explaining to a class of 6^th graders, boys and girls aged 11 to 16, what semen and vaginal fluid are. (Why is it that the teacher whose classroom we've taken over, and just as often the school principal, always seems to enter the classroom just as I'm about to try to explain to the students what semen is?) This is one of the less crowded classrooms; the 5^th grade fits 3 of the little ones behind benches about that size. The girls all have extremely close-cropped hair, and sometimes shaved heads, so at this age I really can't tell the difference; it is helpful that the girls all wear skirts, even when on cold days they wear pants underneath the skirts.

Then we went outside to do an activity to make our points memorable. The PC used this approach of learning through activities this winter in training us, and I thought it worked well; I despair of achieving the needed behavioral change through lectures (see below). The class is in the courtyard, under the purple flowers of the jacaranda tree. To illustrate that people are easily fooled by appearances so you can't tell whether someone has HIV just by looking at them (so if you're not going to abstain, you better wear a condom; yup, we're telling that to 11 year olds – and none too early for some, from what I can tell), each line of students passes an apple behind their backs, and the other line facing them tries to guess who has the apple. When we did this in training, I watched KUF in the opposite line because I knew I could tell when she was trying to hide that the apple had been passed to her – she's the one who, many years ago playing Clue with friends, was randomly selected as the murderer, the only one allowed to lie, and she had to withdraw and we re-started the game because she is congenitally unable to lie, even in playing a parlor game with friends. I successfully identified the apple that way in training, but none of the kids in the 2 classes we did this activity with guessed right, which we think nicely made our point that you can't tell from appearances who is HIV+.

I received quite a few really helpful, thoughtful and remarkably learned responses to my plea for Biblical references for my school “ministry.” I chose the gospel of Mark (!) passage on Jesus and the leper, and then the “Suffer the little children to come unto me” passage from Matthew. I thought my presentation out pretty carefully, because I needed to try to hit an audience of boys and girls aged 6 to 14 with widely varied English comprehension, and I was treading a fine line on how free I felt to tell these kids exactly what God wants from them; the other teachers are very emphatic in telling the students what God wants, but I'm less sure of myself here. I gave my presentation to KUF the night before, and she was enthused, but the unexpected is always the most predictable outcome for me on this continent, and my “ministering” did not go especially well. It was a slightly windy day, blowing towards me, and I began with the students after they had been standing, praying and singing, for 15 minutes. (They line up, shorter to taller, under a corrugated metal roof, at 7:30 for assembly each morning.) I did not hold for very long the attention of the younger grades, whose English and attention spans were limited and, as the younger ones right in front of me started to whisper and fidget in their places, I started to lose some of the older, as well. They are used to a more declamatory, less explicating “Opening Statement” style than I have. I did not get much response from the other teachers, only about 1/2 of whom attended; the one comment was that a bi-lingual pun I tried to make with my name (Sipho Tsabedze = gift and blessing) was incomprehensible, and ended up sounding as if I was praying for myself. Oh, well. I've got lots of good additional material. I'll listen to the other teachers, and try to see what works. Thanks for your responses to my plea. Hope I'm asked to share again.

Lizards, and Spiders and Snakes, Oh My!

Lizards, and Spiders and Snakes, Oh My!

Oh yes, there are many creepy crawlies in Southern Africa! This is not safe Colorado any more. We share our hut with lizards, sort of like geckos but without the accent. Most of them are small and help control the bug population. There has been an occasional big yellow lizard which has gotten my attention, but mostly we know about their presence by the small droppings they leave behind, and sometimes by quiet skitterings we hear along the roof at night. I did see one big and very colorful lizard, maybe a monitor, during training, and hope not to encounter him again. The lizards for the most part are good neighbors.

The spiders come in all shapes and sizes. The big ones in our latrine (outhouse) can be pretty scary. Mark has been wonderful to rid the outhouse of spiders, but one recent spider even surprised him. Its body was bigger than a man's thumb and the rest of him (the spider) was the size of your palm. I didn't stay in the outhouse long! The centipedes are a good four inches long. To keep our huts bug free, we were advised by the Peace Corps to use “Doom”, a white powder which I have generously sprinkled around. We find lots of dead bugs and I can only wonder what effect the powder has on our bodies.

It is the equivalent of early April here – remember we are in the Southern Hemisphere so our seasons are just the opposite of yours - with hints of a long hot (very hot) summer ahead. Summer here is the rainy season and brings much anticipated moisture. Last year there was little rain and a poor maize crop. The result is many hungry people. With the rain also come the mosquitoes. Swaziland has almost eradicated malaria, but not quite, As a result we are on Mefliquine for 2 years and sleeping under mosquito nets. We spent some time this past weekend putting up netting on our windows. At night I feel a nice sense of security (maybe false) with my mosquito net all tucked in around me.

And now the snakes. First, I really don't like snakes and Swaziland has many snakes and they take them seriously. There are several types of vipers and the black mambas. I am told you can encounter them day and night. So far I have managed to not have any close encounters, but a small black mamba was killed just outside our hut recently. I was happy to miss his demise, but have had to alter my nocturnal habits as a result. Our latrine is some distance from our hut. I no longer visit the latrine at night. We have purchased a pee bucket! I know it is just a matter of time and the snakes would rather not see me, but rationality doesn't help.

Parents Day, and more adventures in African coifure

Since the 3^rd term started Sept. 9, much attention has been devoted at my school to preparation for “Speech and Prize Giving Day,” (pretty much like Parent Day at Graland, although there were some differences) which occurred last Friday, October 4. More than 300 parents assembled in a large tent erected on the School grounds. The program was scheduled for 9 and got under way around 9:45. The Chief of the County and his entourage and also the Ministry of Education Guest Speaker and other national administrators arrived around 11. The students demonstrated their skills in reciting poetry (pre-school) and reciting in french (4^th grade). Awards of 1^st, 2^nd and 3^rd position were given for academic excellence, and also awards for cleanliness.

Towards the end of the program, around 2 PM, after speeches and entertainment by drum majorettes, choirs, a fashion show from the Home Economics class, and more, some of the older children did the traditional high-kicking dance, dressed in the skirt-like wrap that is their traditional wear (we posted a picture of Katherine attempting this dance from our July visit to the reconstructed “cultural village.”) At the school presentation, I am quite sure that some of these topless performers, including the one in the center of the picture, in the front row, closest to the camera, were 12 to 14 year-old girls. (For those of you feverishly searching our earlier blogs, Phumi was not topless in our earlier post. Anyway, not that day.) Girls wear long dresses, always below the knee, any time they are in any formal gathering, typically over a pair of tights or trousers, because apparently a woman's thighs are to be concealed, but these young women perform topless in front of their classmates and parents, and no one sees any incongruity. I guess its just what you are used to, or what you look for. Or something.

On an uncharacteristically cool and overcast Monday morning, with the never-ending wind, we walked up to a Neighborhood Care Point (“NCP”), one of 3 such locations within 3 kilometers of us, where volunteer moms cook and distribute food to between a dozen and 30 children 5 and under (over 5 would get at least one meal a day in school.), when food is available. They have these NCPs throughout the country, I believe. No child under 6 is turned away, I believe, but the target is Orphans and Vulnerable Children, especially those within “child-headed” homesteads. The food is distributed by the World Food Program, but WFP has told us they will terminate all food distribution here in December, 2013, because funding has run out. Since the US is typically a major funder of such programs, we suspect a change in US giving is threatening that devastating result here. The picture shows the unroofed enclosure where the Makes cook and serve the corn meal, enriched with powdered milk. The children bring the plastic buckets to the NCP, where the women help the children wash the buckets, which are about to be filled with corn meal, to be taken home and eaten. Usually they also serve beans, but beans take a long time to cook, and they did not get started in time.

Last Wednesday we went into Manzini, the nation's commercial center, with 2 missions: buying lighting; and getting Katherine's hair cut. Manzini has the only store we've been able to find that carries table and other lamps; Swazis don't read much at home, it seems, and go to bed early from all I can tell (but they stay up to watch Generations, a South African soap opera along the lines of Dynasty, I think – but more repetitive, and angry, and not as well acted, if you can imagine that), so apparently they have no need for lamps. We did, and bought the place out.

But no such luck on finding someone willing to cut a white person's hair. That's not racist – our hair is demonstrably different. (An 18^th century Swazi king had a dream telling him to welcome the pale people with hair like cows' tails who would come with a book and coins; the dream told him they should take the book – the Bible, which they certainly did – and reject the coins; they are re-thinking the latter part of the dream.) No one in town would take on cutting Katherine's hair, except for one salon that wanted $US 18, which we certainly weren't going to pay – we're volunteers! So on Saturday we walked up to the salon at our little cross-roads, and they called in the specialist, who did a number on us: $3 for a cut and shampoo for KUF and worth every penny of it, don't you think? And $1.50 (US) for me – I think you'll agree I got my money's worth – about 1/8^th of an inch left, in every direction. Next time I think I'll try to sweet-talk Phumi into doing mine with the electric scissors we bought; more . . . stylin', don't you think? What do you think my chances are?

The picture shows our bedroom behind us, with the mosquito netting over the beds (really not very necessary yet, and we have the departed PCV groups used mosquito netting velcroed to the windows as screens, but even one of the little fellows is annoying; we don't have much fear of malaria – its not very prevalent here, and we take Meflaquin every Saturday morning), the bedside table we made from the box the electric oven came in, and our precious lamps. (Actually the lamps don't work that well – we're each asleep within about 2 minutes of getting in bed, often with the light still on.)

Some have expressed concern about the effect on us of the shutdown of your government, but, remember, we are volunteers, we get only a living allowance, so cutting off funding wouldn't pay to polish Ted Cruz's or John Boehner's shoes. But going on furlough – that would have been nice! We were advised Monday afternoon by text message (the means of communication when they want us to know something, because text messages, to phones, get through, whereas emails are a sometime proposition) that furloughs would not be “required” of overseas personnel, and that we should keep up the good work. Oh, well. Thanks all the same. Hope they get it figured out before someone notices. We can tell from emails from family and friends, and some NY Times headlines, its making a difference back home. Sorry.