Moving foward

Six month recap: Two month pre-service training, 3 month integration, 2 weeks technical training….I am set to be a Peace Corps volunteer. It seems so simple and structured, an easy step-by-step process like baking a cake or crocheting (both of which I am mastering during my service). I look back on last spring and wish I would have wrote down all of my expectations of Peace Corps (just like Mom always tells me to do) or drawn a portrait of how I supposed I would be volunteering in a community. Instead, I am stuck in a fluid mental state, constantly questioning my position, influence, and abilities. A daily struggle between cynicism and idealism overcomes me and my knowledge of developmental issues.

A good friend who has already served a year and a half in Swaziland insists that Peace Corps is more about building friendships and relationships than it is about impractical goals like constructing community centers, educating hundreds of people on condom use or abstinence, or building soccer fields. I try to keep this in mind on those difficult days when the cynicism overwhelms me…

So, on that note, the kids are driving me up a wall. But, I do love them. As much as they pester me and misbehave (they know they are trying to take advantage of me!), most of my great moments are having them run down the road when I get off the bus, greeting me with hugs and kisses. The 3 year old boys, Ntsika and Buyisizwe, are such pills and they love to give me lots of kisses and then rub their lips like they are ridding themselves of my girl germs. Ntsika loves to draw lots of scribbles which he insists that I look at for at least 30 seconds before I can turn away. When I ask what he has drawn, he usually says “Inkhomo!” which means cow. Oh…kids. Then, there’s Lindelwa, age 9, who thinks she’s the mother and likes to boss the boys around but then turns to me with a little twinkle in her eye and asks if she can play with my crayons. Typically, I can’t say no and I end up with a nice drawing of flowers or trees. It’s a win-win situation. The hard part is, after 2 hours, when my head hurts from speaking in SiSwati with these kids, and I want them to go home, it’s not so easy. Candy usually does the trick—take a sucker and get outta here!

Gogo and Mkhulu are still doing well, healthy and busy as always. With the rainy season here, so comes the maize. Much to everyone’s surprise, I wanted to help in the fields (boredom does a lot to a person). I ended up with a few harsh sunburns, but was able to learn about planting and am trying to understand the Swazis unfaltering cultural relationship to maize. Interestingly, it was the Portuguese who began this planting trend while colonizing Mozambique. Swazis were historically hunter-gathers but also grew sorghum (a nutrient rich, drought resistant alternative which is indigenous to Southern Africa). I am always telling people they should try to grow sorghum or vegetables, but, to my dismay, it is a futile suggestion. Most people in my community are very concerned about the drought (the rain fall is not what it used to be), so I suggest growing drought resistant crops or building trench gardens. These suggestions, though very practical, are almost offensive. “Get rid of our maize? Build trenches? That is too much work.” So, I ask them what they will do if they are short on crop and don’t have enough to eat (which many people already are). Always the same answer, “The king will bring us food, NERCHA (an AIDS NGO) will bring us food, the whites will bring us food (meaning World Food Programme).” And, thus, my most commonly used 2-word term: aid dependency; it’s a problem that isn’t going anywhere.

On the bright side of everything, I will be flying home next week to spend Christmas with my family. It is an emotional break that is much needed. Physical too, I suppose, in that I will be showering frequently! (What a concept to feel clean!) I think Mkhulu and Gogo are happy that I am going home because they know how much I miss my family. Gogo keeps telling me she will cook chicken to take to my mother; I think she knows I have to take a plane but that must not matter to her logic process. Sorry Mom, I don’t think that chicken will make it.

Kushada (To wed)

The last few weeks have been progressing as a surprisingly fast pace, a sharp contrast to 2 months ago. My sisi’s wedding kept me busy for about 4 days as I was assigned different tasks including decorating the wedding/reception hall (yes, it was a very Western wedding!), baking for our guests from Durban, cooking for the reception, and taking many photographs for my family (including a photo shop at a local garden center!). It was an interesting few days but I was so happy to be included in the celebrations.

The wedding itself was a cultural adventure and a challenge to my tolerance for different perspectives on marriage and gender equality. Though Western in décor, the wedding presented a dichotomy of Swazi life—the merging of traditions handed down through many generations and strikingly modern elements. The external attributes seemingly new, the practice of marrying by a Christian minister, and the presentation of the new couple all claimed from Western traditions. But, the underlying meaning of marriage, the relationships between families, and the role of the new wife was strikingly Swazi. When the wedding ended, the bride’s family including brothers, sisters, Mkhulu and Gogo were asked to leave the reception hall because there was not enough space for the broom’s family to sit. No one seemed offended by the request and it became apparent that it was the groom and his family that have ownership over the wedding ceremony. So, while we sat outside to eat our lunch, we celebrated away from the wedding party. The next day, day 2 of the wedding, was also drastically different from America’s many wedding traditions. The “giving of the gifts” is the presentation of gifts from the bride and her family to the broom’s family. Gogo did not attend this event, as it is traditionally expected that she stay at home and grieve the loss of her daughter. It was a long day as Molli trudged from the truck into the tent where the groom’s family was seated to present gifts such as blankets, pillows, hand-woven mats, towels, dishes, toothbrushes, and scarves. Followed by an entourage of bridemaids and flower girls, Molli wrapped the men in their new blankets and placed the mats at their feet all the while keeping her head down in respect to her elders and new family. When all was said and done, we again feasted but this time, Molli’s family members were the guests of honor, placed at nicely organized tables and served rather than standing in line to fight for a portion of fried chicken. Instead, I had my fried chicken handed to me and I enjoyed every bite.

Since the wedding, I have been happily busy with planning for Walk the Nation, an event being planned by volunteers to traverse the Kingdom of Swaziland while educating people about HIV/AIDS and providing mobile testing units along the route. I am also working with a teacher at the local primary school to initiate a few clubs at the club and another teacher at the high school to organize a Culture Competition in which students use the traditional Swazi dancing/singing to create new songs to raise awareness about HIV. Both are slow-moving projects but at least they give me something to look forward to.

For my last bit of story telling, I was riding on a khombi (15 passenger van) the other day in Mbabane and 2 kids about ages 5 and 6 were speaking in English to one another. Most of it was nonsensical but I suddenly heard the boy say to the girl, “Don’t speak to me, speak to my lawyer!” I burst out laughing as did the boy’s mother. Apparently he picked it up from a TV commercial but it was hysterical to hear Swazi kids banter about lawyers and especially while practicing their English!

There's a first time for everything...even a blog from Swaziland!

For those of you who have been checking this blog from time to time, I profusely apologize for my complete inattention to the website. But, it’s never too late to start, right? Here it goes…
This week will be busy (a bit of a change of pace from my status quo) as my family is preparing for the wedding of their youngest daughter, Molli. Weddings in Swaziland can be just as much of a headache as their American counterparts. Each marriage is celebrated in a slightly different way, based on the families’ inclinations to incorporate Western traditions. In Molli’s case, lobola (Swazi dowry) was paid in July which was a weekend celebration consisting of the groom-to-be presenting 17 head of cattle to Gogo and Mkhulu and the subsequent slaughtering of 2 cattle for braii (barbeque). The original price was 25 but because this is very expensive, Mkhulu was lenient. (Each head of cattle costs about 2,500 Emalengeni or $400) So, with lobola paid, wedding time has come! Molli and her fiancé, as Christians, have chosen to do a “Western” wedding (i.e. in a church) and will be married in Manzini on Saturday. Sunday will continue the celebrations when Molli presents the groom’s family with gifts. After I told Molli that in American weddings only the bride and groom receive gifts, she sighed and said she wished it was that easy here. In Swaziland, the bride and her family have many gifts prepared and bought for each individual of the groom’s family (parents, siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, etc.). They receive emacasi, the Swazi sleeping mats hand-made by Gogo and other Swazi women, pillows, blankets, towels, scarves, dishes, toothbrushes, and combs. These items are not inexpensive in Southern Africa—the blankets and pillows were purchased in Johannesburg and delivered here. So, this past weekend, all of Gogo’s children came home to help divide and prepare the gifts so they would be organized for next Sunday. In the meantime, I helped Molli clean the guest houses for Gogo’s family who are coming from Durban, South Africa on Wednesday. I was also informed that I would be baking for these family members—chocolate cake and pineapple cake. And, on Friday, I will go to Manzini to help all the female family members cook for the wedding. Guess how many guests? Four hundred! I told Molli she was crazy when I heard that. She just laughed in agreement!
In other news: the community has started preparing their fields for growing maize. Ploughs are being hired and planting season will begin. This time of year is very important to so many Swazis who rely primarily on subsistence farming. Unfortunately, with climate change, drought, and obsolete farming practices (slash and burn), their soil has been damaged and their need for water is increasing. I remind myself that convincing Swazis to change (grow drought-resistant crops such as sorghum or cassava or use trench gardening methods to save water) is much like convincing Americans to stop driving their cars (or decrease the amount they drive). Either way, people get stuck in their ways. Swazis love their maize just as much as we love our cars. So, what do you do? Change when the necessity arises?
On the work front, I have plans. So many plans. Cultivating these plans is another thing. But, I just have to keep chugging along, meeting more people in the community, attending events/meetings, and trying to find partners to help cultivate these plans and assess whether or not they will be effective in teaching about how to protect against HIV/AIDS.

Count down! 4 days!

The anticipation of change is undoubtedly the most challenging part of change. But, the anticipation serves a necessary purpose as it forces me to prepare! Time waits for no one and as I ready myself for the adventure ahead, I realize that both the discomfort of anticipation and excitement of change have moved into the pit of my stomach. I have a strong notion these emotions will not be ready to move out any time soon. So, how do I evict the discomfort, let excitement hang out for a while, and then settle into this new lifestyle of living and working in Swaziland?