Bird Pix

We have located relatively fast and reliable, cheap, and relatively accessible internet! The couple who proceeded us here reached out to us through Facebook and we've now exchanged messages and received much useful information, including that the town library, which we hadn't yet discovered, has inexpensive and relatively fast internet service.

There were some pix I liked from our break at Mabuda Farm that I couldn't send because we had to move fast on their more expensive internet, so I'm attaching them now.

A crowned hornbill is at the bottom of this picture:

(Its really hard to aim this little cameras, with the telephoto all the way out.)

A white chested, shiney-rumped balding buzzard (quite mature plumage, definitely not breeding season) was sighted:

We also saw a splendid striped kingfisher and black-headed herons – not new to us, but good views of stunning birds.

Phumi on our beautiful veranda:

Back home, we walked over to the high school to see the election. We were told that 250 had voted there in the morning, but when we got there in the afternoon there were many more officials than voters. In fact, the only voter we saw was turned away, because she was registered at a different polling place, maybe 7 kilometers away.

The highest official summoned me over, asking what kind of “observer” I was; I assured him I was the most unofficial kind there could be – the PC does not want us involved in politics in any way.

PTA, Duelin' Pastors, and a break

Just a communication note to our friends. We now can receive email most mornings, and we've loved the news from some friends about babies, weddings, children, trips, and, so sadly, the devastation in Colorado from the deluges. We can sometimes send emails. We can only rarely open attachments.

In our continuing effort to get out into the community, get to know it and introduce ourselves, we learned of a new term parent meeting at the nearby Primary School (not mine, which is the better funded Railway Primary School, but the one (inadequately) funded only by the government. We showed up and, as typically happens, they were delighted to see us, sat us up front with the School Committee, and were very gracious. The meeting took place under a tree in the school yard. The main topic of discussion was how to fund an expansion, because the 5^th grade has 70 students, all crowded into one classroom. The solution was to have the parents show up once a week to work for a morning to help build the new classrooms. A long and fairly animated discussion followed on what amount should be paid by those who do not work. The School Treasurer's proposal of US $5/week was defeated and the decision was US $2. This was all conducted in siSwati, but we got the general facts.

Men do not wear hats at official occasions, women must wear hats. An unfortunate consequence of sitting with the Committee is that we were in the full sun for the 3 hour duration of the meeting, and I got some dehydration and heat nausea, and I was glad to go home and crash. Better the next morning.

When we stopped by the School Monday morning about 30 parents were sitting under the tree, watching a power shovel dig out the foundation.

We learned that, in preparation for the elections in 2 weeks, all the churches in the county assembled at the Chief's house – effectively the county seat – for a common church service. The bus to the service was to leave at 9, we arrived at 9:30 and it had left, or never come, but a man in a private car offered to drive us there (it was probably 4 miles away) for US $1. KUF knew the bus rate was 40 cents, and beat him down to that – he never had a chance.

The service was to start at 10, and when we arrived there were around 8 pastors and a dozen other worshipers. We introduced ourselves. By 11:30 the hall was SRO, close to 300 congregants, more than 3 dozen pastors (around 8 of them women), a youth choir in robes, an organist on an electric keyboard. After some hymns featuring some female soloists, each of whom seemed to try to be more intense than the previous one, one pastor got up to preach, at length, then another, not to be outdone, at greater length, with more fervency. In between, hymns which brought some parts of the congregation to their feet shouting and waving, but left others motionless. The man in front of me sat with arms crossed and head bowed through the entire service, except for one hymn that brought him to his feet. Towards the end of each sermon each pastor would close his eyes, raised his hands, and, I am pretty sure, start to pray (I can recognize a lot of the words because they are also common first names – mine, for instance: “Sipho” = gift. Until I figured that out I wondered whether it was a good thing that I was mentioned so often in prayers.) As the pastor's prayer progressed, many in the congregation – no doubt particularly from his denomination – would start to pray as well, but unlike the singing which was astonishingly polished even as it seemed extemporaneous, the praying was all on an individual basis. I sensed some gentle teasing during some of the sermons, perhaps from rival pastors, but the interpreter whom the moderator had arranged to sit between Nomphumelelo (sometimes shortened to “Phumi”) and me assured me they were in agreement. Nothing metaphysical like, say, transubstantiation (you could look it up, because you have high speed internet), more a matter of how each church described how awful Satan is, I think. During the scripture reading the designated interpreter followed each line of text in siSwati with an English translation that sounded pretty close, read to the whole congregation, but useful only to Phumi and me. Deuteronomy, and Revelations – that's part of the Apocrypha, right? Not even in the King James Bible, I believe. Lots of devils and burning in hell, from what I could tell.

The service lasted 3 3/4s hours. I'd love to have had a picture inside, but all I felt free to snap was outside, afterwards, Phumi with one of the ladies who is introducing her to the community. More on these “Rural Health Motivators” in a later post, because they are extraordinary.

We were to submit a report on our initial settling in activities, and we got it done early, because of uncertainty about how well we could submit it by email. I wanted to then get away to a B&B on an old farm originally built by a mining and sugar magnate from Jo'Berg 80 years ago, on a hill 20 k away. Phumi wanted to stay and interview some more pastors and makes in destitute homesteads. So here we are at a beautiful cabin on a dairy farm kind of reminiscent of Vermont, and it has high speed internet so we got our reports off! And we've already seen a long-crested eagle, a white-eared barbit and a crowned hornbill (all new birds for us!), some magnificent black crowned herons, and some other interesting big and colorful birds we haven't been able to identify yet. Then a swim, a walk as the sun sets, some wine with dinner tonight, watching the full red African moon (yeah, its always red as it rises and sets, I think because of the wood smoke and dust in the atmosphere – never fails to stun me when I see it), catch some more birds Friday morning in a wooded ravine down from us (“Grandpa's Garden – this property has been in one family for generations), then to back our site, which is not quite as comfortable.

 

Getting down to work

The attached picture shows Mark about to head off for his second day of teaching, as he was being advised by Katherine to avoid stepping in poop. Aside from being a necessary precaution every step around here, this was a family echo of one time when I walked our children into school for their first day. An unfortunate misstep in the park that that day that followed me to school and even to the office, became a theme on other recurrences of the first day of school, through the years. I'm sure they also remembered through the years the useful wisdom and sage advice imparted that first day of school, just as vividly.

After “assembly” at 7:30 a.m.at my school here in Swaziland, the teachers spent 15 minutes “settling down” the children in their classrooms, and then every single one of the teachers adjourned to an all morning faculty meeting, leaving the children in the classrooms with no adults and nothing to study. My class was to be ½ hour starting at 11, but after the ½ “lunch” break ended at 10:30 I excused myself from the meeting, which by then had mostly lapsed into siSwati, and bravely entered a classroom of 41 sixth graders. The PC trainer had taught us to try to get an opportunity to prepare the teaching environment before the students arrive, but they were fully in possession of the premises, and watched in amusement as I pulled out my various supplies. They were attentive, and anxious to please, when they could get past the language barrier and figure out what I was asking. We talked about long-term goals, to lay the groundwork for next week on short-term goals and challenges. Many want to be doctors, mechanics, engineers. No one mentioned being a husband, mother, father, wife, son, etc. Maybe because of how I posed the question? When I finished the discussion of goals they could see we had time, although my ½ hour class period had expired, and they said they had questions for me! After I understood what they were asking, and the particular questions, it was revealed that I don't know JayZ, I have (sort of) met Pres. Obama (well, there were around 79,999 other people there at Mile Hi Stadium), that I have 2 children, and they are too late in seeking to marry my daughter. I said I would tell them how long I'd been married . . . some other time. Isn't the old Las Vegas showman's expression – leave them wanting more – applicable to teaching 6^th grade?

I've had some contact with our son and daughter-in-law as they've prepared for teaching graduate students and undergrads. I bet they had better classroom management skills than I did my first day, but not for lack of effort and attention on my part. I'm not sure I saved anyone from HIV yet, either. I'll be with this class a full term, till December, so there is a little more time yet.

The picture is in our living/kitchen room. Propane to the left, water filter to the right. Kind of like the 10^th Mtn Division Cabin. But much smaller. The table, chairs, and shelving on the left were left by the previous PCVs, and not appropriated by the host family.

While I was at school Katherine was to meet one of the 5 “Rural Health Motivators” in the vicinity, who was to take Katherine around to meet families in neighboring homesteads. During this 90-day “Integration Period” we are in now, one of our big tasks is to take a “census” of the community, listing the people in each homestead and noting how many orphans (some in every homestead), children in school, people who are HIV+ (you don't always get the truth on this one – kind of hard to ask, but the RHMs are a really good entree), whether they have electricity, water, a latrine (some don't). how they are employed outside the homestead(so far maybe less than ½ the adults), some things they like about living here. How we were to do this community survey had been a puzzle to us, but Katherine walked with one of the RHM's to one homestead after another, until around 2:30. With no appointment they just walked up to the homesteads and sat down to get to know them.

The RHM's are (barely) paid by the government to provide instruction and some care for people in outlying areas. They are typicallyly women in their 50s or 60s. They know and are welcomed by everyone, and are remarkably well-informed about health matters. They are the perfect key to the community.

This required “Community Assessment” is a little “make work,” in the sense that there is not a big need for the data we assemble. But the process of visiting each homestead gets us out and meeting people, and gets us known by them.

There are “single” and “double orphans in every homestead. The concept of “single” orphans (lost one parent) is important because children who have lost one parent are far more likely to encounter problems – health, academic, social – than children with 2 parents, even when they are mostly raised by both parents. The prevalence of children being raised by their grandparents reminds me of some drug- and crime- afflicted US inner cities, and hints at the pain and loss we felt among young adults in Cambodia when we were there in 2006, who had been raised without parents, lost in the Khymer Rouge genocide in the 1970s after the US left Vietnam.

Wedding in SA, and then a sudden loss

When we arrived August 30 at our permanent site we were repeatedly asked to join our host family at a wedding of our Babe's (head of household) niece in Barberton SA, a mining and agricultural town NE of SZ. We received expedited approval from the PC Country Director to leave SZ, and left at about 5:30 PM Friday, 9/6/13, but not before one of the family's goats had made his ultmate contribution to the festivities to nourish the dozen on so friends and family who came to the homestead Thursday and Friday. We'll try to include a picture of butchering and cooking. Unfortunately, we missed the call for dinner, and by the time we arrived only the parts involved with locomotion and digestion remained. Turns out goat is really tough, and . . . gamey. Probably an acquired taste. We've got 2 years. Vigorous brushing and flossing helped.

It should be about a 2 hour drive to Barberton, but there was a mix-up on the paperwork and we had to go by a 5 hour route through a different border crossing. The border closes at 8 PM. After much stress we got through, hearing the barricade slam shut behind us as we walked across with about a minute and a half to spare. The bride was with us, so they needed to get there. The hired khumbi was crowded and hot. We arrived at the bride's family's home (actually here daughter's home) around 11 PM, and they produced buckets of Kentucky Fried Chicken, ubiquitous here, and the Swazi omnipresent staple lipalishi – like grits, but with less flavor. The family had arranged for separate houses for the men and women, and we spread out on foam mattresses on the respective floors. We had not known what to expect or what to bring; we were glad we'd brought our sleeping bags.

We had heard that South Africa generally is notably more prosperous than SZ, and this visit was consistent with that. The houses we slept in had hot showers, kitchens, microwaves, indoor plumbing – these houses would have fit easily into Crestmoor Filing 2, except for the walls around the gated community and then the separate spiked fences around each house. The community was mostly white, from what we could tell.

The PC had been at pains to help us understand important aspects of Swazi culture, particularly marriage, but I'm not sure we have that system entirely figured out. This step of marriage is the final one of a long process, and seems to occur after the groom/husband has saved enough to pay the “lobola” = “bride price”, currently around 18 cows, we understand, to the bride's family. This couple were in their 50s, grandparents; their oldest child is 34. I assume some equivalent for the cows was tendered, or they were kept elsewhere, because this was a housing subdivision, and there was no place for livestock. We understand that there were also at some point both civil and church ceremonies.

Because of the border crossing timing issue our Babe was anxious for the in-laws, putting on the wedding, to keep it moving along. He'd have been as productive pushing on a wet string. “Swazi time” applies, even among Swazis living in SA. One of the “bhuti” (brothers) joked that the in-laws were ½ Swazis, but the men who heard the remark suggested it not be shared with the in-laws.

After a delicious and bountiful breakfast we assembled at the house the bridal couple is just completing. A major part of this wedding stage is the bride's family giving gifts to each of the in-laws. The gifts were typically blankets, grass matts, or grass brooms, brought from SZ in a pickup by one of the bride's cousins.

Many of the men wore the lihiya, traditional dress. I wore traditional US wedding dress, although my bow tie was fabricated from Swazi print material. Katherine wore her “little back dress”with a lihiya tied on top.

After the gift giving all adjourned to the nearby tent, carefully decorated by the bride's family. I sat at the men's table and was, of course, served first. Nomphumelelo was at the most senior women's table, and refrained from bringing me my plate, to the amusement of the men at my table, but one of the in-law sisi (sisters – all-purpose terms for young women) made sure I was well taken care of .

During and after the meal there were numerous hymns and prayers, including a vigorous blessing by the 5 pastors in attendance from the bride's side, and some generous gift-giving to the newly-weds, including a slow-cooker and an electric bidet.

After the meal the bride's family dismantled the tent decorations, packed them and us in the khumbi, and we headed back across the border, making it in plenty of time. There was no alcohol, except for a bottle that looked like Chivas (!) shared among some men in the back of the khumbi. It wasn't offered to me, and I did not ask. The only music was the hymns, mostly from the (very religious) bride's family. No Western style dancing, though during the gift giving part the women sang and kept rhythm with their feet. Some had on shell ankle bracelets which made rhythmic rattles.

The morning after the wedding the homestead was very quiet as everyone slept late and visited quietly. We too have twice had those “it's all over” blues. Midmorning the family got a call that a cousin had “unexpectedly” died, and there were some issues on caring for the child of the marriage. This lead to a discussion between KUF – whose cross-examination skills should be required instruction for trial lawyers – and the domestic worker at our household, that the cousin died of complications from AIDS and that several members of our household are HIV positive. The PC has taught us that, with advances in medications, people who are HIV+ can live out a natural lifetime, although HIV can't be cured, and a panoply of drugs must be taken meticulously and have some side effects still being discovered. Everyone on the homestead was subdued and somber. Visitors have come and gone. We've mostly stayed out of the way. It was a good day to try the electic hair trimmer I bought; probably best to wait a few weeks before sharing pictures of the result. We are developing many useful new skills.

Uploading pictures to our blog is lengthy, expensive and uncertain because we keep losing our connection, when we can get one at all. We plan to take the computer into town where we understand there is free internet, and there we may risk trying to include some wedding pix with this narrative. Or we may get the narrative off and then send each picture as a separate post. Sorry if that is cumbersome to deal with. We can get and open email early each morning; we haven't enough connection to open attachments – pictures and documents. We'll try when we go into town.

2nd Picture from Cultural Village

Pictures from Cultural Village

Settling In

We moved to our permanent site on Friday, August 30. It was an impressive operation, considering the number of moving parts, with a dozen or more vans, khumbis, pickups, etc. arriving before 7 a.m. at the training facility, helpers from the previous PCV group helping move, and one of the full-time PC staff in each vehichle going with of the new volunteers to site. We were dropped off at our site by 10 a.m. I confess to feeling a little low as the PC SUV drove off. The wind blew hard all day and the tune running through my head were “They Call the Wind Mariah” which I think is from Oklahoma.

The next 4 days we spent buying and getting furniture delivered, and settling in, and we are now feeling more at home and more comfortable.

A 9 year old boy and 6 year old girl are living at our homestead for about a month during school break, I think because their parents work back towards the capital. They are quite cute and clever, and we've enjoyed reading to them and playing with them, but they are horribly bored because adults do not play with Swazi children, so they hang around our place, calling to us and peering through the windows incessantly. They are endlessly fascinated with all our stuff, and can easily make nuisances of themselves, such as one time padlocking us in our house. We're going to need to reach some understandings.

Our family is going about 70 miles NW to Barberton, South Africa Friday evening for the wedding of the niece of the father in our household. The family repeatedly asked us to go, and we got special expedited permission from the Country Director to leave the country. Thursday morning the women raked and picked up the homestead ... dog and chicken poop, litter, leaves, weeds … Katherine joining the effort and family started to arrive. Friday is the gift giving day, here at the homestead. We have delegated one of the aunts to get us an appropriate gift, with we hope an appropriate ceiling cost. Friday evening we take go in a hired coach with 2 dozen family members to the wedding site, although the bride's mother and grandmother are not allowed to go?

Pictures: I am now able to connect my camera to email , a little - we get a little signal very early in the morning through a complicated deal KUF figured out with our 3G smartphones creating a “personal hotspot” to which we connect the laptop; it is very slow and expensive – we really can't download atachments. (I was using my iPhone to blog in July and August.) I had a few pictures on the camera which are now dated, but I thought might be fun.

For our “break weekend” after mid-terms at the end of July we visited a recreated “cultural village” on our way to the game reserve. Seeing the way Swazis lived “traditionally” helped me understand a lot about current mores. They did a high-kicking traditional dance, and then got some help from visitors, particularly those (unlike the typical PCV) accommpanined by spouses/parents who appeared likely to leave a tip (we did – they guesed right!)

We moved to our permanent site on Friday, August 30. It was an impressive operation, considering the number of moving parts, with a dozen or more vans, khumbis, pickups, etc. arriving before 7 a.m. at the training facility, helpers from the previous PCV group helping move, and one of the full-time PC staff in each vehichle going with of the new volunteers to site. We were dropped off at our site by 10 a.m. I confess to feeling a little low as the PC SUV drove off. The wind blew hard all day and the tune running through my head were “They Call the Wind Mariah” which I think is from Oklahoma.

The next 4 days we spent buying and getting furniture delivered, and settling in, and we are now feeling more at home and more comfortable.

A 9 year old boy and 6 year old girl are living at our homestead for about a month during school break, I think because their parents work back towards the capital. They are quite cute and clever, and we've enjoyed reading to them and playing with them, but they are horribly bored because adults do not play with Swazi children, so they hang around our place, calling to us and peering through the windows incessantly. They are endlessly fascinated with all our stuff, and can easily make nuisances of themselves, such as one time padlocking us in our house. We're going to need to reach some understandings.

Our family is going about 70 miles NW to Barberton, South Africa Friday evening for the wedding of the niece of the father in our household. The family repeatedly asked us to go, and we got special expedited permission from the Country Director to leave the country. Thursday morning the women raked and picked up the homestead ... dog and chicken poop, litter, leaves, weeds … Katherine joining the effort and family started to arrive. Friday is the gift giving day, here at the homestead. We have delegated one of the aunts to get us an appropriate gift, with we hope an appropriate ceiling cost. Friday evening we take go in a hired coach with 2 dozen family members to the wedding site, although the bride's mother and grandmother are not allowed to go?

Pictures: I am now able to connect my camera to email , a little - we get a little signal very early in the morning through a complicated deal KUF figured out with our 3G smartphones creating a “personal hotspot” to which we connect the laptop; it is very slow and expensive – we really can't download atachments. (I was using my iPhone to blog in July and August.) I had a few pictures on the camera which are now dated, but I thought might be fun.

For our “break weekend” after mid-terms at the end of July we visited a recreated “cultural village” on our way to the game reserve. Seeing the way Swazis lived “traditionally” helped me understand a lot about current mores. They did a high-kicking traditional dance, and then got some help from visitors, particularly those (unlike the typical PCV) accommpanined by spouses/parents who appeared likely to leave a tip (we did – they guesed right!)