There are 3 elderly people on the
homestead, in addition to ourselves: a Grandmother (“Gogo,” aged
82), who is actually the widow of our Babe's deceased brother; the
father (“Babe”) on our homestead, a vigorous 72-year-old; and
his wife, the Make (“mother” 63). Both Gogo and Make have
diabetes and limited eyesight, and walk with difficulty. In January
and February Make had become very frail and was taken for numerous visits to
doctors, clinics and hospitals. And perhaps to a traditional healer,
or 2, as well. At one point in early February, when she could not
longer walk or even leave her bed, church friends of theirs arrived
around 8 PM one Saturday night and prayed, preached and sang through
much of the night. In later February her health turned around, and a
“party” was set for last Saturday, August 16 to celebrate and
give thanks. We were just back from our Durban school trip.
Even before we left for Durban changes
started to occur on the homestead: a tool shed was enclosed in
cinder-block and turned into 2 rooms, another small house that had
sat open since before we arrived was enclosed.
When we arrived back from our
4-day trip to Durban on Thursday night there were many more people on
the homestead, and much work more work had been done. All the
buildings on the homestead, including our own little 2-room hut, had
been repainted. Maybe an additional 10 people slept at the homestead
Thursday night, and by Friday night another 30 had probably arrived;
I have no idea where they all stayed.
Thursday afternoon a cow was
slaughtered and taken to the butcher, but the head was preserved, and
Friday afternoon the head was slowly cooked over a fire in an
enclosure built specially for the occasion. Only the men entered the
enclosure, and only the men cooked the head.
That is our Babe, seated on the right.
Only the men eat the head – that's where the brains are.
We offered to help, and pitched in
several times on Friday, but there were many hands, nearly all more
skilled than ours. So we rode off to the Public Library 2 miles away
where there is internet to get back into communication with our
world, do some shopping, and re-supply some free condom distribution
points, notably the local bar. When we returned at 5 a rented tent
about 20 yards by 15 yards had been erected. We visited with the
many new arrivals, many of whom we had first met when we went to a
family wedding of Gogo's daughter in Barberton SA way back in
September, 2013, right after we first arrived at our “permanent”
site.
We had settled in our hut for a
dinner of some fried hot dogs and baked potatoes when our Babe
knocked at the door with some choice pieces, especially for Mark, it
seemed. I tried. I ate several pieces. I ate tree snails in
Ecuador and I always sample the home-brew when offered; I thought,
“I can do this.”
One animated little girl, maybe age
9, seized my wrist enthusiastically and dragged me around back of our
hut where we have a (mostly) enclosed shower area and stepped inside
saying “I can see you” showing how she could peer around the
curtains partially covering the window of our hut opening into our
outside shower.
Around 9PM singing, then
preaching, then simultaneous “testimony” or preaching, or spoken
praise, started in the tent outside our hut. That lasted less than
an hour, and then the children and many of the adults went to sleep,
although I heard talking in the cook-sheds after 1. Saturday morning
people started stirring around 4, and by 6 the homestead was in full
swing with party preparations. The men spent the whole morning
braiing (grilling) beef parts, some men never coming into the tent.
The women prepared the rice, potato salad, beets and, most of all the
lipalishi (like grits – a big staple here) and frying chicken.
The service was due to start at 9,
and was mostly under way by around 11. Hymns, Old Testament
readings, sermons, and speeches by Babe and family friends. Swazis
speak without notes, but with pace and, when they want it, humor and
wit, I think, judging by the reaction. (I understand little, at
best.) This is our Babe, again, in the center in the dark suit, with
Make next to him, and surrounded by his friends from the county
government; he's related to the Chief (chief executive of the county,
appointed by the King, but then hereditary, it seems) and fairly
influential.
Effusive praise and thanks were given
to God; if there was any mention of medical professionals or of a
government health care system, I missed it. By around 2 the praise
wound down and people lined up for the “refreshments.”
The crowd continued to grow, reaching
around 250 when the meal was served.
Friends lingered after eating.
People we knew from the High School were there. The crowd quickly
thinned but many stayed as dark fell.
We leave at the end of this week
for our 2 week trip to Victoria Falls and then Botswana. We'll take
a khumbi on Friday to JoBurg (when we flew back to the US in January
for the services for Katherine's Dad we took a private van, which is
twice as expensive and wastes a lot of time because it only goes
twice a day), fly to Vic where we'll celebrate our 40th
wedding anniversary (how did that happen? Better as time goes by.)
then 3 nights of camping in Chobe Park across the Zambezi River in
Botswana I'm told critters routinely wander through the campsites, especially at night, which would, as a pink sheets prospectus would say, bespeak caution. Then a private chartered plane into a remote camp in the
Okavanga Delta for 2 nights, ending with 3 nights in Maun, on the
edge of the Okavanga Delta, at a backpackers many PCVs have enjoyed,
described as “the bar at the end of the world.” Then back to
start the 3rd school term.