April 2, 2014
April, and it's autumn (think October). The maize harvest has begun. This means folks go to the fields, use a slasher (similar to a machete) to cut the maize stocks and lean them against each other to form heaps - sort of standing - piles. Had to go ask what they are called. The next crew comes in the morning, working about 7:00 am to noon, before it gets too hot, with a nail sharpened and tied to a string which slips over a wrist. Then the stalks, which have one ear apiece, are pulled from the pile, the husk cut with the nail (from the center towards the top), the husk removed and thrown to one side, the maize thrown into a pile. If it looks like rain, the husks are then pulled over the pile to protect the maize. Otherwise, it's left until the kids get out of school; then one will drive the tractor pulling a trailer, and whoever is around goes out to load the maize onto the trailer. From there it's thrown into the crib to dry. The husks are left in the field, along with the ears that aren't fully developed, for the cattle to eat. Later, the dried maize will be taken off the cobs and either stored or ground.
As I work with the family, they ask if this is something we do in America. It's so hard to explain that No, we don't have fields around our homes, we don't even really have some kind of staple, as they do. I ask if they ever grow sweet corn, and they say no. I don't know how to begin to talk about how we don't live on homesteads, most homes are not multi-generational, and consist of one building housing people. We have no outdoor kitchens, we don't cook over open fires, we do barbecue (called braii), but... If we have a garden, it's small, mostly for our own homes, and not a required part of survival. When I say I've been driving since I was 16, and have had a car most of my life, it sounds like I'm really rich. It's difficult to describe the lack of public transportation in rural areas - or anywhere except big cities, and even then (think Los Angeles), not necessarily. I know they don't imagine the beater cars I've been known to drive (do any of you remember the 1970 Toyota that had a beer can in the engine compartment to catch the dripping oil?).
So life has its own rhythm here. Today I was helping get the maize before it rained, and we cut it a little close. I was walking back to my hut, the rain already beginning gently, soon to be a downpour, when I heard a sound that made me stop and let the raindrops soak me. I was going past the pumpkin patch when I heard the rain playing sweet melodies on the leaves. Once again, I went home, walking in the woods, transported by sound alone. Made me smile all the way inside.
I am learning so very much. I wrote this when I got home from school the other day.
March 25, 2014
In the morning I leave my homestead,slip-slide-sway down the path to the road, then begin the 1 mile trek to school. It's almost all uphill, so I put in my ear buds, try to stay out of the sand and the obvious ruts and avoid cars by guessing which side of the road they will pick as smoothest.
On one side, the land rises, on the other, it slopes gently down, but my main view, straight ahead of me, is the road and whoever else may be traveling on it. I arrive warm from the exercise and steeped in the music filling my ears.
Ah, but the journey back is very different.
I walk the shady, muddy drive, past the pre-school chorus of How are you?'s, past the primary school, then turn onto the road. A few steps and I begin to descend. What appears is brand new each day. The valleys and rolling hills stretch out before me: rich greens and endless sky. I am transported to a land both open and secret: fields interrupted by buildings, tree-lined creeks, distant hilltops and valleys. Colors blend indescribably and the world suddenly holds adventure, promise, tingles of joy and something intangible - something - more.
Now, as I walk, the music is background, as something inside slakes its thirst for beauty and peace. Moving to some unknown rhythm, I make my way back to the path leading to my hut. I begin the climb, looking uphill. To home.
Work projects morph and evolve - some seem to be disappearing, others to be growing in new directions. The job search seminars are petering out, but individuals are asking me for help. We'll see if they really want it. The pre-school teacher has asked me to read a story to her kids, and I hope to get the primary school involved in vision screening. I'm going to be working on a GLOW (Girls Leading Our World) camp, helping with food organization and teaching interviewing skills one day. We continue to prepare for the 1,000 books arriving in May or June from Books for Africa. I'm still mentoring my sisi from my training homestead, and playing with the kids here on my current homestead. I hope to take them to the library over school break, and have been bringing home books to read with them. I'm even doing a bit of tutoring as needed. And of course, I'm still co-teaching the careers class, which is really fun. We've been dividing them into groups and having them report back, and we decided they're getting tired of that. Think for decision making we're going to divide them into 2 groups, tell them what decision they have made (We're still deciding on the question, but it should have decent pros and cons for either way. Maybe whether to have a sugar daddy, or to try alcohol. Half will decide to do so, half will decide not to do so). They will have to work backwards on how they made the decision, then tell the other group why their decision is a good one. We'll give them guidelines to address, but rather than have one person reporting, anyone who chooses may speak. Don't know how it will work, so keeping our fingers crossed. And next month will be a training on positive discipline/classroom management. I may even be able to invite more than one counterpart. Hope so.
It's all so scattered, but I feel it's all good. Little baby steps. So much of life here is teaching me patience. And to let those I'm trying to serve decide how I may best serve them. Life lessons that I will certainly bring home. I wonder what else Africa will send home with me.
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
Wednesday, March 12, 2014
Musings
February 16
Water at the tap today! That's a big deal, since although it's still raining, we want to save the rainwater for the dry season when the tap may go dry, as it did last winter. So I dragged out my 5 and 7 gallon water jugs, borrowed the wheelbarrow and made 2 trips. Eish! I've lost my muscle tone. I was huffing and puffing, both trips. I'll get back in shape soon, though. Helps me appreciate how decadent those jojo tanks are. Spilled some of the water pouring it into a bucket, so the floor got washed. Sponge cake, as Rachel Naomi Remen wrote. Seeing opportunities rather than accidents. Life here is great practice in seeing opportunities.
February 28
So I did it. I used an umbrella as shelter from sun. And while I felt ridiculous, I LOVED having shade from the intense sun of summer. Ah, the comfort of body over the demands of ego. And what a lesson about giving up my notions of "acceptable". Pants are often a no-no, but two different patterns on garments are fine, as are major amounts of cleavage and nursing in public. Very tight clothing is often the norm, and shoes, including spiky heels, that, to my eye, have no place on rough sidewalks and dirt roads, carry wobbly women. Cutting in lines that have been forming for an hour to catch a bus is "the way it is", and personal space has no meaning on busses. Makes me wonder what people from other cultures find interesting in our givens...
Now I'm learning about patience and how to honor the Swazi customs without giving up my own. And balance. It seems to always come back to balance. How to find my place in my host family, in the workplace, in my interactions with other PCV's?
The people with whom I work do not want to say "No" to me. But they also don't always want what I offer. It's a dilemma, because if I can't trust that they will say "no" then it's hard to offer ideas and opportunities. At the same time, when they say yes and mean no, then it still doesn't happen, I just feel as though I'm trying to get them to do something they don't want to do. It’s a great way to make sure I am including them in the input and decisions.
As always, as I write, thinking it's so different here, I recognize similarities to home, just different ways those things manifest. Wake up calls - interesting stuff.
Something that is different is life for teenagers. All of the kids have chores, starting when they are very young. The older they get, the more responsibilities, so that often teens do all the cooking and cleaning, especially in homesteads with grandparents raising the kids. I went to visit my sisi from my training site - Simphiwe. She is at a boarding high school. At her homestead she cooked (over an open fire, as well as on a wood burning and electric stoves), cut wood, hauled water, cleaned, helped garden, did laundry... you get the picture. At school, she is responsible for her school work and probably also has some cleaning tasks. But visiting her at school is a delight because she's giggly and goofy and laughing and concerned with how she looks and her grades. Who knew that what we consider "normal" teen behavior can be such a joy to see? I consider myself her mentor, and notice how she sometimes pushes the envelope with me. It's okay - I know how to draw boundaries, and want to encourage her trying new things. After visiting, I walk back to catch the khombi with a lightness in my step that I didn't even know was missing.
March 7
I remember my earliest posts. They had themes, and flowed. Now it seems these posts are snippets and snapshots, bits and pieces that I think might interest you readers. No themes, no flow and little connections. Sort of like my life.
So for those of us who are visual learners, picture this:
I'm on my way up the (dirt) road to my tutor's house, ear buds in, the Grateful Dead singing Truckin'. I've got a silly grin on my face, I’m bouncing a little and feeling good. I see a truck being pushed. A couple of men have pushed it one way, the wheel turned, now heading around to the front to push it so it will be lined up to be pop started. I do what any of us would do - I run up and help push, not bothering to take out my earbuds. We push, get the truck lined up, and then I take out an earbud and smile at the men. Okay, now imagine you are one of those men. Here's this old white woman bouncing up the road, and she runs over to push a truck. WHAT!?! I totally loved the expressions on their faces as they said thank you. Doug Burns told me once that it's important to blow your image every now and then. Mission accomplished.
Here's another picture:
On my way to catch a bus to Manzini this morning I crested a rise and tears came to my eyes. The valley in the distance had become a white fog lake, a few hills poking out of the mist. I haven't seen that since I left Orygun, and my heart filled with joy and longing and sweetness and beauty and... I went home for a brief moment.
I wore my Josephine Community Library t-shirt today. JCLI folks, be proud! You're now known in Swaziland. Wound up meeting the librarian at the National Library, partly because I was wearing this shirt. And, noting said shirt, said she saw a passion for libraries in me, then she invited me to read to kids - we'll start with ages 8 - 11. I'll read, she'll translate and we'll both try to intrigue them with the magic of books. If it works, maybe we can expand it to teenagers reading plays aloud. Hilary, I may ask to draw on your experience with reader's theater to help me reach these kids. I so love the stumble technique! It works beautifully...
March 9
Taught a class on the importance of self-esteem to a group of high school juniors (though the age range is much greater here than at home). At the end I asked them to tell me what they would remember from the class. One young man synthesized it this way, so I asked and received his permission to post it here.
"Between possible and impossible there is a fine line. Self perception is the bridge between the two." Castro Gama, Form IVA, Ekukhanyeni High School, March 6, 2014.
Oh yeah, that's why I'm here...
And, a friend sent me down a path that wound up here:
Left Brain
rants and raves,
reasons and rumbles,
powerless
to touch
Beliefs
elusive
unyielding
Beliefs
quietly
creatively
constructing and shaping
our realities
Right Brain
wordlessly
laughs
~Michele
March 9, 2014
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
Catching Up February Posts
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!
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!
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.
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