Pictures Again

Here it is, the famous, the only, the familiar, yes, The Look:






















 The Food Conspiracy Lives! People save money together all year, and at Christmas time they buy bulk and divide up what they buy...

Including chicken. Make that chickens. Live. Chickens to go.






















Remember the pictures of the church roof in the trees? The wooden church was leveled, so they will rebuild with cement blocks. Sunday morning found these young me down by the riverside, making those blocks.

 Lots and lots of those blocks.

 Not all of the work is hard... Nomile, Beke and I were washing my blanket, holding onto each other because the blanket made wobbly footing. And laughing a lot, too.

The hike on Boxing Day was so incredible! We were near Piggs Peak, looking into South Africa. We crossed this river on the hike up the mountain. There's a place near my homestead that has muddier water but similar rock formations. Gorgeous. Soda speak.

We hiked up to the top of this ridge


 

Then continued up this outcropping, doing pick your nose trail finding.(For those non-rafters, it means you can never just follow someone, you must pick your own route, or you'll find yourself in trouble. Based on, you can pick your friends and you can pick your nose, but you can't pick your friend's nose. Sorry!)

Rewards at the top:

 

Forest edge, Swazi style!

Processing

January 27, 2014
At the Peace Corps Office so am experimenting - can I get this to load? I will do another post of pictures. For now - Just processing...

January 22, 214

It's the difference between knowing and experiencing. And I can't really define how it gets from the first to the second. But I know that making a difference, once person at a time, is what the Peace Corps is all about. And somehow, that knowledge  is morphing into experience. As experience, it somehow becomes a part of me in - a wholistic? way? Not sure of the word. It becomes a part of who I am. Mind/body combined.

I know my expectations are not going to match what really happens. That the people here need to guide what happens and I'll put my energy where others put theirs. I may end up putting much more time and energy into the library than the career center. I may wind up creating a resource center at the umphakhatsi rather than a career center at the high school. There may not be workshops - rather informal gatherings to learn specific skills. My successes may be because of the stumble technique, like helping Simphiwe get into St. Michael's, or tutoring youth who come to me, rather than something more concrete. My best accomplishments may be mentoring a few, who will pass along what is learned. I just don't know. And I think that's okay.

I keep trying to get my mind around what I 'm doing - and it won't go there. Guess it's that my worth is not in the projects I do or don't do, but in the connections I make along the way. The projects are an excuse to be here to do my "real" work.

from email jan 4 2014

It's been a time for introspection - for finding my balance, searching for "meaning in life", discovering my place in the scheme of the Universe. The lessons have been less than subtle - in fact, kind of slamming me in the face. All in all, I think this was a good decision, but that doesn't mean I don't have lots of doubts. sometimes I count the days left on my way to the latrine, or doing dishes with water I've hauled, or washing myself in a basin <g>. The physical realities are harsh and unavoidable. The warmth of the people and the opportunity to hang out with little kids is irreplaceable. The country is beautiful and full of surprises.

Jan 23
Scene... waiting for my ride to town. hot day. sitting in the shade on a slope above the road. hear a slapping sound. a dozen or so cattle strolling down the road. behind them, a young man with an umbrella for shade follows them, cracking a whip into the road in some complex rhythm all his own. we wave, and when he smiles, I realize it's Mbalekelwa and that cattle he's driving live here.

and on another note entirely, for those who remember, 45 years today...

January 24

I was cleaning up papers and discovered I've been writing some poetry.

Amazing how
we think
a better life

means
Elsewhere
No matter where
     here
         is.

But every there,
     every where
           holds

Here
where dreams
may find us.

~1/9/14


Your artist's eye

Notices
the white space:

     What is not
      what is no longer

Observes
     change

Appreciates
     clear sight.

~1/9/14
  Africa

and finally, written last spring. Hard, in the midst of summer to remember how it felt, but since most of you readers are looking forward to spring:

Drum riffs
of rain
serenade us.

Parched earth
runs soupy brown

Kids surround
the lidlala's cookfire
tossing an occasional cob
onto the coals
under the little
libhoda holding dinner,

Sky darkens into dusk
thunder percussion
blends with soft laughter.

October.
springtime in
Swaziland.

~10/18/13

Time

January 9 2014

My father, had he lived, would have been 98 today. Dad, my illegitimate father (his description, not mine, though I love it) will be 100 on February 2. Time. A cultural concept, I think - the way we view it, not the fact that it is.

I am trying to - not sure of what the words are. I've been told Swazis don't pay attention to time - that they are often late, and that's just how it is. Seems to be true a lot of the time (pun intended). For me it means changing how I perceive. A long, long time ago I learned that "It doesn't matter." That is, it doesn't matter if I'm here or elsewhere, wherever I am is a good place to be, and things will happen here. I seem to be relearning this lesson when it takes 5 - 6 hours to go the 40 miles round trip to town and back. Or to have work mostly stop for the 6 weeks of holidays. I focus on building relationships, on preparing for when work does start again. But it often feels as though I can't get there from here because before I start I have so many things that must be done.

We're human beings, not humans doing, so goes the now-trite saying. Living it is a different story. A woman who returned to the states before the end of her 2 years wrote that she wished she had learned to embrace rather than to cope. Oh. Yes. Whatever we focus on, whatever we feed, grows. So what am I feeding? The beauty around me, the warmth of the children's laughter, the sweet birdsong from my roof? The steps forward that seem to be baby steps, but are still going forward? Or some fanciful idea that if I were just elsewhere it would be so much easier? Another volunteer, early on, said we all have things that are easy and that are hard - and it's different things for each of us. All these lessons are so true at home as well as here. Maybe it's just that here there's time to notice, examine, process them.

Thoughts

Michele's computer is not connecting well, so I'm posting for her.

January 5, 2014

Holidays are really hard - they're the time our culture says we should be with friends and family whether we call this time Christmas, Channukah, Winter Solstice or Moslem, Buddhist, Shinto or other holidays that celebrate the turning of the seasons and the lengthening of days once again. Even though here it's summer solstice, the need to connect is strong. Along with that is the realization that I live here - so what I'm doing with my life is lots more than just being a Peace Corps volunteer. And that means... I need to figure out what that means.

For one thing, I need to get out of the fishbowl occasionally. I will post a picture of "the look" - the way little kids, too young to hide it, stare at me. And stare. And stare. I have my own opinions about what it means - and I'll be interested to see if anyone posts comments about what s/he thinks is going on behind those eyes when I get a chance to post a couple of pictures of it. Right now I'm having some technical difficulties, so pictures aren't happening yet.

For Christmas I did get out of the fishbowl - spent it with a bunch of other volunteers. No "looks",  I could understand all of the conversations, the food was outstanding, and we watched silly movies. And we went on 2 nice walks and a bonafide hike, up to a ridge and then up an outcropping whence we could see the mountains of South Africa and a great sweep of Swaziland spreading out below and before us. It filled my soul in a way I'd not realized was empty.

So today, while the family was at church, I walked down to the river - about half an hour away. I couldn't get my feet wet (there's a parasite that lives in the water), but the sound was wonderful, and downstream a little ways there's a small drop. The rocks are granite with some kind of intrusion, and someone had been there and lit a candle. The melted wax and a trace of energy remained. I listened to the river sing and threw twigs in the water to see what the currents were doing. The weight of the twigs made a big difference in whether they made it out of the eddies or not. Interesting.

On the way back, the churches were getting out. From one, the women were wearing white, and some walked down the road, greeting me, while others followed a brown path through a green hillside, winding around a small rise and out of sight. They are beautiful. Then a young woman lugging a large and evidently heavy duffle bag walked towards me. Her hair was braided and her dress was fine. Her very high heels made walking on that uneven dirt road most difficult, judging by the way she teetered along. Made me angry (again) at mass media that defines beauty for women in such unrealistic ways. She's not the first woman I've seen in heels. It seems so - unnecessary? dangerous? restrictive? all of the above? Even here, in rural areas, women are bound by some made up definitions of what beauty means...

There are so many differences, though. Women here can sit up straight, legs outstretched in front of them (as Make is in the picture from July or August) with no back support and be comfortable. When they bend over, they bend from the waist with such grace that you'd think they were all yoga masters. Because they carry weight on their heads, their posture and balance make those of us slumpers envious. And they seem much less self-conscious about their body images, though I don't know if that's true.

These blog thoughts are so scattered. I just don't want to forget the things I'm observing and learning. Already I take so much for granted - like the bomake dresses the women wear, the amazing hairstyles, the muddy roads and muddier rivers, the green rolling hillsides and the role of children. Thanks for choosing to read and wander this land with me.

Contrasts

Posting for Michele.

December 16, 2013

The rain taps gentle melodies on the roof while I marvel at the incongruencies in my life. I sit on the bed, under wooden poles thrust into cement walls, windows decorated with wrought iron bars, covered with cut up mosquito netting stuck to said walls with velcro glued with contact cement (my screens), then covered with lace curtains and finally emahiya (fabric in bright patterns). The cement floor leaves my feet gritty, even though I sweep 3-4 times a day. But on the bed with me are my electronic toys - bluetooth keyboard, ipad, phone that tethers the ipad to the internet and kindle. I feel as though the 21st century snuck in while I wasn't looking.

The other night, getting ready for bed, movement caught my eye. A small bat was flying around the room. I opened the door wide, but it circled around and around, unable to find it's way out. Finally I turned out the light, walked outside and turned on a flashlight. The bat flew free. Whew!

Early December, riding the bus into town, past fields of maize. People were weeding, some were women with small children on their backs. To tie a little one on, a woman leans over from the hips, parallel to the ground. Then she swings the toddler up over her shoulder onto her back, throws a long shawl over the baby and ties it just above her breasts. Then she takes the lower half, pulls it tight, stands up and ties it,  then tucks it under the baby's bottom. The babies go everywhere, and are usually pretty quiet. If they fuss, the sling is pulled around to the front and the baby can nurse. Public nursing is totally acceptable.

The rains have started, and people collect rainwater, so even though the community tap is still dry, water is not, for now, an immediate issue. The roads are. Or rather, transport is. The roads are dirt and sand that turns into mud that cakes onto shoes and slides across what used to be roadbed. For a week the road was impassable, meaning to get to town busses had to go in the opposite direction, make a big circle, charge twice the bus fare and take twice as long. It's frustrating and inconvenient for me, but for those with jobs in town it's a whole different level of problem.

Add to the mix that some of the khombis are not running, and you wind up with 1 bus serving the area of my homestead. Got on that in Manzini 9:30 one morning, and set a new record - 4 1/2 hours to get the 20 or so miles home. Definitely a lesson in patience and in learning what the Universe has in mind for me. We started out, stopped, turned around and took a scenic tour of the back roads of Manzini to - some buildings behind a fence. There, for the next 2 hours, the driver, conductor and workers from the building repaired the bus. First they plugged in some extension cords, then took a skill saw, cut through some rebar, shaped one end into a tool, then soldered it to a handle. Brought that up to the bus, which was on a jack, removed the wheel and proceeded to do some welding and other repairs. Sent someone off to get parts, and 2 hours later, it was done.

Hanging out, waiting, talking to folks. The conductor wants to expand his business. My sisi knows him, so I may be able to get some resources to help him do that. He's also a student at a university. Busy young man. An older man talked about Nelson Mandela, and how he modeled for us the importance of not giving up, of having faith that his goal is the right one, of doing something every day, every day. It was as though that man were talking to my heart, to my self-doubts, the part of me that wonders if being here is right. It is.

So off we went - back to the bus rank, then the long way around. Turns out my stesh is the last one on the route - bus turned around there and headed back. Eish! What a journey.

More bus sights: Busses, understandably, are packed. The woman next to me pulls a little girl onto her lap. The child falls asleep. Little kids, undeterred by manners, stare, stare, stare at me. A first white person? Police stop all traffic. Sometimes they just talk to the driver. Sometimes we all get out and line up and they go through our bags. No one knows what they are looking for. Then we get back on the bus. Even though we were at the end of the line, and people are standing, we wiggle through the mass of humanity to get get to our seats which await us.

Contrasts and differences. look around! friends. What contrasts, less noticeable but notable just the same, do you see?

Picture Time

I am at Simunye Country Club for some R & R and there's real wifi!  Here are some pics.

 

Here is Sinethemba with that hat he made in one weekend. This was the school project he procrastinated starting till the last minute.

 

Life is short, roast marshmallows before dinner... The kids are in the lidladla - the outside kitchen - and dinner is in the pot. I think only one marshmallow, out of 2 bags, fell in the fire.

Siyabonga is about to release the cattle who have been pulling a plow to weed the maize.

 

A huge storm hit, putting dents in my corrugated metal roof. I was lucky! The roof in this tree used to be on a church next to my homestead. The wooden walls wound up on the ground, and all that was left was the cement foundation.

 

 

Here is a better view of the roof.

 

And since it was Sunday morning, the congregation put up a tent for church. Note the pick being turned into a hammer. That's Menzi, looking on.

And they needed chairs, so Nomile, age 6, helped out!

Michele's Latest Missive - November 7-22

November 7

Mangoes are ripening!!! Bought a couple today, and one was perfect. Peeled it and stood dripping over the table, sweet juices fulfilling fantasies. I thought of a time in Mexico when I only ate them on the beach or in a shower so I could readily wash off the sticky mess I made of myself. Ah, a bit of heaven right here.

And another snapshot: sitting in the dining hall at the training center, swallows flying in for quick tours. One lit on the open peanut butter jar and casually helped himself to some...

fines for women wearing pants in town during incwala.

November 13
Do you still feel like a fish?

Simphiwe said to me, when we were walking in Manzini, 'Everyone is staring at me because I'm walking with you.' Naw, I replied, it's because you're beautiful. "No," she insisted, "it's because you're white." Yep, I am visible, I grinned. Sometimes I feel like I'm living in a fishbowl.

The next time I saw her, a month and a tragedy later, she suddenly asked, "Do you still feel like a fish?" The funniest part is that I knew exactly what she meant!

Peace Corps says that by the time I go home and can blend in easily, I'll miss being the center of attention. I dunno - hard to imagine missing not having privacy... Something to look forward to, for sure.

November 14

I thought this blog would be about me in Africa, but it turns out to be also about Africa in me... Big storm last night, and electricity went out. Back on mid-day, out again just now. Sitting on my front cement pad to feel the cool breeze and because the kids had come from church. How humbling to have them come sit by my door. Quietly, because my SiSwati is lacking and their English is, too, because they are so young. but nice. Very nice, to just be.

came inside and took a cool bath in my washtub. by candlelight. the candle standing tall in the empty amarula bottle. dried off, put on my lihiya and climbed onto the bed to peck away at my ipad, writing this. feeling decadent. grateful for all I have. For the juxtapositions that highlight my world.

reading Cutting for Stone. it's about Ethiopia but the descriptions are not unfamiliar. In Manzini, I saw a man on hands and knees, with knee pads, thankfully, making his way down the rough cement sidewalk. No one stared. On the dirt road in front of my homestead I saw a man in a wheelchair. Not so easy in the mud or sandy dry soil on the hills that make this region so beautiful.

Sent: Tuesday, November 19, 2013 10:42 AM

I sent this as an email to Sueji, and she suggests it be part of my blog. I agree.

Dear Sueji,

How delightful to start my morning with a text from you! You asked about school - and I'll broaden that to work. Work is - strange. by that I mean that I'm always on, at least as long as I'm in my community, so though I read a lot, and do home chores, I can have someone knocking at my door
whenever. Or I can go outside and the kids will come to me. Work and my life
are sort of one most of the time. So some snapshots:

The kids rolling around on top of each other like puppies. Nomile sitting next to me, her head on my lap, falling asleep. Beke wrapping the mat I made from plastic bags around herself like a lihiya - trying to make it into a skirt. Sinethemba knocking on my door Friday afternoon and saying the hat he was supposed to crochet from plastic bags - the project assigned at least a month ago - was due on Monday. Would I help him? Sure. As we worked, I asked, what happens if you don't finish and turn it in? The teacher will beat me more than I want to be beaten, he replied matter-of-factly, crocheting away. And he finished! And got 80%! A true miracle, since it was definitely the world's messiest job. But Sunday night about 9:00 p.m. he and the other kids were at my door, asking me to help him finish it, which I did. Then I took pictures of all of them wearing the hat.

A young woman asking me to help her with biology - no book - what are the functions of the liver? pancreas? big intestine? little intestine? and by the way - what's that (pointing to my little oven/stove. It's about the size of a large toaster oven with a couple of burners on top). It's an oven and since I was making bread and it was ready to bake, I turned it on. She lives without electricity, and didn't understand how it worked. I don't know if she just had never seen such a small stove/oven, or if she didn't know about ovens at all. She touched the sides (warm, not hot) and felt the heat from the glass in  front. Sueji, she's going to be a senior in high school, and didn't know what an electric oven is. She was also interested in the refrigerator (can you explain, off the top of your head, what keeps it cold?
I mumbled something about freon gas circulating, but I really couldn't explain very well). She asked what would happen if she left the door open. In the midst of this her older sister came in - same questions. Wake up calls keep happening. This from a young woman who could talk about biology
more knowledgeably than I could.

At school I worked with the librarian to finish the grant application toBooks for Africa - if my school gets the grant, we'll get about 1,000 books! check it out here: https://donate.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=14-645-001  Then met with Gladness, the guidance counselor. Yesterday she informed me and my supervisor that she and I would be co-teaching the career classes for Form 4(there are 5 forms). Today we talked about what that might look like. I'll be helping the students with career research and assessments. Tuesday I was in Manzini and applied for a library card (no mean feat in itself), then walked around the library looking for career materials.  My heart broke. There were very few books, and those were 15 - 20 years old! The world is changing way too fast for them to be useful.  I  need to go to Mbabane, to the library there. I also need to check with the Ministry of Labor and the Ministry of Education, hoping to get employment projections and other information on  possible career choices. Maybe scholarship info, too.

I so miss the resources so readily available in the the states. But - bright light - one of the reasons I'm going to Mbabane is that Anne, the PC nurse, worked in Human Relations for a hospital. I'm hoping she will be able to guide me in what students need in job interviews, job seeking techniques and anything else we can come up with. Having a local resource is gold. There's another PCV who put on a job search workshop, and I'll see her at Thanksgiving and will pick her brains then. And I still want to contact the Rotary Club in Manzini and see if I can get a contact there for information and maybe mentoring. The work helping the youth groups has slowed to a snail's pace since they aren't really following through, so it's good to have many things happening.

I think by December things will slow or stop as Swazis take the whole month off. But by then integration will be over, and I can leave site for more than one night per month. I really want to visit some of the game preserves, and hope to make that happen. Maybe even a trip to South Africa. Oh, and Saturday I'm going to help out at a National AIDS Day event with some group
10 (I'm group 11) volunteers. I'll be staying with Christine, who has a shower, I hear! And there's a pool nearby, so I'm hoping to get to swim, too, before I head back home.

So that's work! And life. Time for bed soon.

November 20
This morning I noticed Sibusiso had a spot on his head missing hair. What happened? I asked, concerned that he had fallen or somehow hurt himself. Lots of embarrassed giggles, and it turns out that he was caught chewing gum in class. The teacher stuck it i his hair, all the way down to the scalp. That must have hurt, getting it cut out, I ventured. Oh yes! was the reply. None of us mentioned the embarrassment of having a patch of no hair, advertising what he had done...

November 22
50 years since President Kennedy was shot. Another PCV asked those of us old enough to remember where we were and what we were doing when we heard. We all could give amazing details of an event 50 years old. sigh. It's most strange to be in a country where that event is unknown, where Thanksgiving not only doesn't mean the world is shutting down, but where it not doesn't even appear on calendars.

My computer is in the shop, but I hope to post pix when I get it back. Thanks for putting up with my stream of consciousness writing. And you get away with no challenges. Count your blessings <grin>.