Michelle says Internet Access is getting harder, so I'm posting again. Enjoy!
February 3, 2014
I just have to write about the school schedule. It's unbelievably complex. Although kids go to school 5 days a week, they have 8 classes on M, T and Th, 6 classes on W and F. The classes meet at different times: M,T and Th are the same, different W and different still F. They break it up into 8 periods and 6 days. So one of the 2 classes I co-teach meets Monday this week, Wednesday next week, Thursday the week after and then skips a week. It meets different times on those different days. And, this can change if something interrupts the school and they have to cancel a class or 2. Then, instead of skipping the missed class, they just start where they left off on the school calendar. I'm told the lower forms have 13 subjects per term, the higher ones about 8. Continuity must be a real bear!
February 6
Dirty Hippie Enterprises Lives!
Back in our starving student days we found an amazing amount of creative ways to keep expenses down and bring in a bit of income. Michael and Ben did some VW repairs, the Food Conspiracy (bulk buying) helped us eat well for little money, the Everybody's Favorite Recipe Book was born... But it turns out, for me at least, that the greatest gift of those days is the belief system that if there's a need, there's also a creative, inexpensive solution. I once knew someone who thought the way to solve problems was to throw money at them. Not having money to throw meant developing some skills and ways of perceiving that are serving me very well here in Africa. No shelf space? Hang a line and tie utensils from that line. Need curtains? Try emahiyas (lengths of fabric). No sewing machine? That's what embroidery stitches are for.
It's not feeling things are lacking. Rather, it's that if there's a need, the first solution doesn't involve buying something already made - it's finding the materials and designing something. I like the challenge and the feeling of accomplishment, even when the result is so far from professional it's humorous. If it works...
The other cool self-discovery is that I have a built in clock. For a long time I've been able to tell myself to wake up at a certain time, and generally do it (though I set alarm clocks for really important things). But now I've found that if I decide I want to leave my hut at a given time, I walk out the door within a few minutes of that time. I usually keep an eye on the clock, but even when I don't, I check the clock on the way out and sure enough, I'm at the time I set for myself. Kind of strange and very nice. Time here is not something people pay a lot of attention to, so it's most strange that I'm able to do it. Maybe I'm getting more than my share of time karma since others aren't using theirs <grin>?
February 10
Took a few days away from site to go play - so VERY refreshing. Met Robbin and Pam other PCV's, at Hlane, a game reserve. We had one heck of a time trying to plan it, and finally just gave up and went for it. Discovered they won't let us just walk around, so we went on a tour. Since we opted to stay at Pam's, we wound up on the tour mid-day, which wasn't great for seeing animals, but was just us, which was wonderful.
Lions were sleeping, so we saw none, but the elephants, indolent in the heat, strolled into the road and on both sides of it, eating and gazing into the distance. Their ears beat slowly back and forth, chasing the bugs and flies away. Our guide backed up our vehicle, saying he had tried, 4 years ago, to pass... The elephants charged, and he learned that even if they're not IN the road, being on both sides was the same thing... They moved with such grace. We learned they eat 18 hours a day... The trees were losing the battle for life since the elephant territory was finite and their appetites are not...
On the way to the white rhinos (kept in another area with the giraffes) we saw African Monarch butterflies and some gorgeous birds, wild flowers and even a turtle or 2.
The rhinos would put to shame camouflage experts - light and dark mud, birds on their backs, they grazed slowly across the landscape. The birds eat the ticks and other insects, and warn the rhinos, whose eyesight is very poor, of dangers.
Then off to the ballet. The giraffes. Males and females together, the darker the color, the older the animal. They, too, had birds as symbiotes, and the birds traveled up and down their necks as the giraffes nibbled on treetops, then lowered their heads to lower branches. One youngster stared at us a while, wondering what we were. Then they strolled off.
It was such a strange feeling, knowing that we were going to their habitat, rather than having captured them and carried them off to ours. At the same time, they were in a preserve, behind fences, their natural migration patterns disturbed and the landscape feeling the effect. It wasn't exactly a zoo, but it also didn't feel - wild. Still, it was wonderful to see...
Africa - Swaziland - seems a land of intense contrasts. We made our way back to Pam's, up to the top of a plateau, then through Siteki, a dusty town that somehow feels - not sure of the word. Uninviting. Pam has a kitten who made off with our hearts. What a bold little guy, full of love and life.
The next day we walked to a backpackers (hostel) that is also a working farm. We strolled through fields and trees, marveling at the rich greens, redolent with lush vegetation, stopped to talk with the horses and to pet our escort of dogs. The afternoon was decadent in and by the pool, the air just warm enough to be comfortable. What contrast to town, a short walk away. I felt wrapped in luxury, even though the room we shared had bunk beds and a bathroom out the door and down the porch. The beauty, lush vegetation, quiet and glorious views made it luxurious. It was so very far removed from our daily life on homesteads.
Robbin said walking with me was great - no one accosted her with marriage proposals (and other less savory ones as well). I think I could be a successful duenna. Age is respected here, and I've had only a couple of untoward things said to me. Hard to remember the difficulties the younger volunteers face.
Today it was back to reality. Refreshed, a little sleepy and slow. Tomorrow there'll be plenty to do.
February 15
A few more glimpses of life, then I'll post this.
Perspectives. I think I've written ad naseum of transport. But what it can mean... Everyone is aware that missing a bus can mean hours till the next arrives, so the drivers watch for people running and wait for them. No one on the busses complain - it could be any of us dashing down the road next time. A few days ago I saw a woman running towards the bus with a fabric-wrapped something balanced perfectly on her head, despite her running. She gave it to the conductor, then headed back down the road to encourage the other woman with her, who was pushing a full and obviously heavy wheel barrow as fast as she could. Passengers just smiled and laughed, admiring the mad dashes. Now that's community!
Dinner last night to celebrate Babe's two sons (not twins, 2 weeks apart) turning 40. I sat with the extended family, and felt comfortable, remembering how at first I didn't know names and even less about the youngsters who bear those names. The 2 1/2 year olds fell asleep on the floor and slept through the thoughts and prayers. The other kids were quiet and well-behaved, sitting on the floor, smiling and everyone ate with their hands. We had goat, raised here, slaughtered that day, and cooked until tender and tasty, pap, rice and birthday cake.
Animal and insect deportation continues. Found a frog hopping around, deported some humungous cockroaches, a few spiders and whatever else finds its way in. Discovered another bat in the hut, and tried to lure it out with light. It decided to exit the way it entered - in the space between the roof and the top of the wall. Not a large space, but not a large bat. I like insect-eating critters, but don't really want to share living quarters with something dive-bombing my head...
So life here continues to teach me and teach me. Chipped a tooth, and at the dentist's office asked him questions about when he hires people so I can take the information back to my community. I'm shameless, it seems, when gathering resources and information. I've decided that trying to organize workshops will be more work than they are worth. Instead, I want to meet with a small cadre of people who are interested in job seeking skills and who are willing to share whatever information they learn from the meetings. I hope this informal way will work, as since it's not a workshop I won't be as likely to have to fight non-involvement. The first meeting is planned for March 1, a Saturday, and several people have been invited. We'll see how it goes.
A big challenge is that people want to be polite, so often they tell me what they think I want to hear rather than what they really think or want. I'm working on ways to encourage them to tell me what they really think, to communicate that their thoughts and beliefs are way more valuable than agreeing with me. It's a cultural difference, so it will be an ongoing mutual learning experience. I keep reiterating that I will be leaving in less than 2 years, and I want to leave knowledge and resources to help them achieve their goals - not mine. The process is helping me see that in my own relationships, the times friends and I have been able to be open and honest is because we have established trust over a long time. It's something that will continue to be cherished and developed.
I am learning so very much from my time here! Surprising lessons that humble me and make me appreciate how very strong, sweet and special you, the people in my life, are. Thanks!
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
Monday, January 27, 2014
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.
We hiked up to the top of this ridge
Rewards at the top:
Forest edge, Swazi style!
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.
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!)
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
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
Thursday, January 9, 2014
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.
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.
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.
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
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?
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?
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
Picture Time
I am at Simunye Country Club for some R & R and
there's real wifi! Here are some pics.
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 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.
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!
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