Superbowl Sunday

February 6^th, 2012

I did get to watch the Superbowl this year (not that I’ve ever really cared to watch it before, but it was a nice American thing to do).  A Superbowl viewing party was set up at one of the backpackers in Mbabane (capital city) and a programming meeting was thoughtfully planned at the office so there was a reason for all of us to come into the city.  The game didn’t start until 1am our time and lasted till 5am but most of us made it through.  One of the volunteers even made a betting board and we all spent our hard earned PC allowance betting on squares.  The winner got 700 emalengeni  (1/3 our monthly allowance), sadly that winner was not me, but the betting board kept me much more focused on the game then I usually would have been.  It was really fun to crowd 30 some people into a tiny room to watch.  Some were more invested in the teams then others and rallied for support. I was rooting for the Pats because if I vowed my allegiance I got a fun sized Snickers bar.  Snacks were passed around throughout the night/morning keeping us all awake.  We all crashed around 5:30 and were all sadly up by 7:30 due to the body telling us that 7:30 would normally be sleeping in so we needed to be awake.  I felt like I was in college again.  Late nights, early mornings, a little hung-over, a feeling that sadly felt so familiar that it was comforting.  The two hours of transport back to site were brutal and I was asleep by sunset but it was great to hang out with my fellow PCVs and celebrate this American “holiday.”

P.S. We may have gotten to see the game but we didn’t get any commercials L.  We saw the same five commercials at every break, it was awful.

Making Mealie Bread with Make (ma-gay = host mom)

February 5^th, 2012

I just discovered the best gluten free food to ever come out of Swaziland… Mealie Bread.

This excellent bread can be made without flour and it’s amazing.  I helped my Make make it tonight and I swear I could eat an entire field of mealie bread.  Here are the ingredients:

Fresh Mealies (aka fresh maize cut off the cob)

Baking powder

Butter

Sugar

Pinch of salt

Fresh milk (straight from the cow if available)

First you pick some fresh maize and peel them preserving the leaves from the husk.  Then you cut off the kernels from the cob, saving the cob (this really is a no waste cooking project).  We did this basking in the cooler breeze that dusk brings in.  We sat outside and worked as the chicken corralled around our feet eating every bit of maize we dropped.  The only problem with this is that my white toes look very similar to maize kernels and the chickens couldn’t tell the difference…ouch.

Once we cut the kernels off we prepared the pot that the bread gets cooked in.  I guess we kind of make an oven.  You take the classic three legged pot and put a little bit of water in it and set it over the fire.  Then you take the maize cobs and stack them on the bottom of the pot to create a shelf so the bread wont touch the water and then you let the water boil.

Meanwhile we ground the mealies up in a hand grinder.  While I held the bowl to catch he grinds I complimented my Make at her ability to so quickly use the hand grinder.  She just laughed and said this was not hard.  She used to spend all day grinding the kernels by hand with a rock and then would have to walk to the river to fetch water after.  That was hard work, today she says no one likes to work, they are lazy because nothing takes that much effort to do anymore.  I guess Americans developed for a reason, so we had more time to go to school and/or to work at a job that earns us money.  Here there are no jobs to get unless you go to University and Uni is almost impossible to get into so what really is the point of development?  In the case of mealie bread the point is that we didn’t have to start making it at noon, but rather could start at 6pm and be done by the time Generations starts (very popular evening soap opera here).

Ok back to baking.  After grinding the mealies you add the other ingredients, mix, and then scoop the dough into the leaves from the husks.  The dough gets wrapped up in the leaves and then they get placed in the pot on the cob shelf and covered.  Let them bake for 45 minutes and then take them out of the pot, let cool, and peel out of the leaves and eat!

It’s so amazing, taste just like corn bread!  Kumnandzi Kakhulu!!  (Very delicious).

How You Are Helping

I am starting a new tab up at the top devoted to how all of you back home have helped me and the people I live with here in Swaziland.  You all have been more then gracious with the sending of packages and I want to show you just how appreciative and useful the items you have sent me have been.  Check the tab every time I add new blogs and see if your item gets featured!

Stranded in Mpaka

January 31^st, 2012

Today being Tuesday we had our English class at the Refugee camp in Mpaka.  Mpaka is my “community” but its more like the next town over.  It’s a five-minute drive away and transport is very frequent, or at least has always been until today.

We finish up our lesson at 5:00pm, which means that I am not leaving the camp until 5:30pm, getting to the bus stop around 6:00pm when a bus comes.  However today the bus came at 5:45 and I saw it pulling away as I was still half way down the dirt road.  No problem, I usually miss the bus, but there are tons of khumbis going to Manzini that I can hop on.  Well not today.  I waited for an hour and half.  Only two khumbis came by.  The first wouldn’t take me, and the second had probably 30 people in it (capacity is 15), kute space (no space) the driver yelled as he pulled away leaving me in his dust.  I wasn’t the only one stranded, there was a whole group of us.  Nothing like sharing the same fate that brings people together.  I had a lot of great conversations while waiting ranging in topics from condom use to how the US recruits their military men.  By 7:15pm it was dark and I was assured no more transports would be coming.  Thankfully Addy and Ryan live in Mpaka so I called them thinking I could sleep on their floor, instead their Babe (host dad) has a car and said he would drive me home.  It was pitch black my now and not safe to be out, but at least I had a ride coming. 

However dark and alone I felt I knew I was safe.  I almost cried at one point, but then one of the bomake (mothers) at the market, who was still around came and asked if I had a place to go.  I had just sorted out my ride, but it was nice to know my community was worried about me and working together to make sure I got home.  All the MTN boys (who sell airtime aka cell phone minutes) were helping me flag down any vehicle to try and hitch me a ride, with no luck, but the help was still appreciated.

As Babe Tsabedze pulled up across the street everyone yelled, Tengetile your ride is here and I was safely brought to by front door.  I paid him for petro (gas) to say thanks and he got to meet my host parents.  It was a fun little meeting between the two families.  My family knows Addy really well and her family knows me well but our families had never met so that was fun.

If it weren’t for Addy’s Babe I would be sleeping on some strange homestead of the thoughtful Make who would have brought me home with her, but thankfully I get to sleep in my own hut and can add this to my crazy adventures in Swaziland list.

As a side note, our English class was awesome!!!  Snaps for Addy who planned a fantastic first lesson for us to teach our 60 students.  We are starting extremely basic and have to write our own curriculum, which is a challenge but it’s working.

Biff’s guide to using a Swazi Pit Latrine

January 29^th, 2012

Having now been using a pit latrine for eight months I feel I have mastered proper pit latrine etiquette.  These rules may also be useful to anyone using an outhouse, a port-a-potty, or squatty potty (toilet in the ground found in parts of Europe and Asia).

Rule #1:  Only use the pit latrine in the morning unless it’s an emergency.  During the winter months this rule doesn’t have to be enforced as much, but in the summer the less time spent in the loo the better.  You see most latrines are made of bricks and corrugated tin that trap heat very nicely.  The summer sun does a great job of cooking everything inside so you can imagine the smell that is produced from this box of poo by afternoon.  The amount of bugs that are active in the latrine are also less in the morning when it’s cooler.  By midday the flies coming out of the seat are enough to give you a very unpleasant bum message. 

For the remainder of the day (and especially after dark) it is very much appropriate to use your pee bucket.  It feels just like sitting on the pot after awhile.  So why use the latrine at all if you have the luxury of a pee bucket right in your own hut?  Well there is that pesky #2 business that needs to be addressed.  If you are one of those lucky people to have regularly scheduled bowel movements in the states then good for you, but if you were like me and ate meals mostly consisting of on-the-go options then you probably weren’t that regular.

Rule #2:  Become regular and schedule it for the morning first thing (for reasoning see rule #1).  This will also ease your fear of needing a “facility” when you are out working.  The “facility” available to you will guaranteed not be as nice as your morning latrine experience and you probably don’t want to dig a hole and squat, so get the job out of the way in the morning.  Exception: if you are going into town and you plan to make a stop at KFC or Riverstone Mall for the sole purpose of using the bathroom.  Then you may forgo your morning ritual if your body lets you.

Rule #3:  Always carry your own toilet paper.  The only option you will find in the latrine for wiping will be yesterday’s newspaper.  While this provides great reading material your bum wont be happy if you receive a paper cut.  TP is also essential if the person who used the latrine before you does not have good aim.

Rule #4: Upon approaching the latrine pay attention.  If the door is open its most likely that there is someone using the facility so kindly wait out of viewing range for them to finish.  If the door is closed it is still important to make as much noise as possible upon arriving at the latrine and if you feel like it giving a courtesy cough letting anyone who may be inside know that you are there.  This little trick was a suggestion from another volunteer and it really helps deter any awkward moments at the latrine.

Rule #5:  Always thoroughly check the latrine for the following: snakes, scorpions, lizards, rats, and spiders.  They like to lurk in this dark, confined area and can easily hide from you.  They wait for you to get comfortable and then either attack or aggressively try and escape; either of which you are bound to severely freak you out.  Best to make sure the area is clear beforehand.  If you do encounter something sweep it out or let it make its way out before going in.  If it’s a snake best to just walk away and use the pee bucket, informing someone on the homestead on your way so they can kill the snake.

For the most part I don’t mind the latrine.  I enjoy the early morning walk across my homestead every morning and then forget about using it until the next morning.  However, that being said it has gotten to the point that I was using my pee bucket one day and thought to myself, how great would it be to have a bathroom facility inside your house?  One with a way to just let the excrement flow away rather then having to empty your bucket every time.  I was half way through a brilliant design of how this would work when I realized that I had just reinvented the toilet! 

My lovely pit latrine

What does God and Cyclones have in common?

I sit staring out the window down onto the busy workings of the Manzini bus rank (bus/khumbi depot of sorts).  I am exhausted from a days worth of travel, glad to finally be on my sixth and final leg of transport.  I am transfixed on the ladies sweeping the parking lot and putting the trash into a giant bomake bag.  My brain waves are so low they probably register as off and I’m not thinking of anything in particular. 

I am suddenly rocked out of my tranquil state by the over exaggerated preaching of a bus pastor.  The phenomenon of separation between church and state has yet to grace Swaziland and religion is not something you can choose not to participate in, at least not when you’re on a bus.  The style of worship here in Swaziland is loud; it is filled with passion, strained vocal cords, and flying spit.  Most passengers seem to enjoy it as they gladly provide an offering to the bus preacher. 

Its when the bus preacher stands, I quickly pull out my ipod hoping I can get a song playing before the first cry of “Siyabonga Jesu (thank you Jesus)” fills the bus.  Today I was too consumed by the actual picking up of trash that I failed to see the preacher rise and my peaceful state of being was invaded with the beginning of a sermon.  I slowly got my ipod out but by the time I chose a song he was done.  I guess we were only getting a prayer for a safe journey today.  The bus driver, to supplement the lack of sermon put on a video of church services from the 1980s in the USA; one of those services where the congregation is really into it, standing, singing, and overly swaying with their song of worship, big 80s hair bouncing all over the place.

Anyways I finally got my song of choice playing on my ipod and I listened to the sinful sound of American pop music while I watched the sermon (its like an accident, awful and uncomfortable but you cant help but watch).  My song of choice was ‘Cyclone’ by Baby Bash Feat. T-Pain.  It was selected in honor of Cyclone Funso that is festering over the Mozambique Channel.  As I listened the video switched to another church service where the congregation was dancing in a circle.  All of a sudden I lost it.  I was consumed by a fit of laughter that I couldn’t stop.  These faithful churchgoers were no longer passionately praising God, but were now dancing to the smutty lyrics of Cyclone.  Their circular movements matched the beat playing in my ears so perfectly.  I felt like I had beat the system, instead of having religion forced on me I was forcing my inappropriate music on them.  Their expression of praise I had reinterpreted as dance club moves, it was great.  Of course I was the only one to get the joke as no one else could hear Baby Bash telling me ‘she moved her body like a cyclone.’

So the answer to the question ‘What do God and Cyclones have in common’ I guess is that they both have influenced people to move their bodies in circles from time to time.

Cycle Funso has yet to move down and pour heavy rains onto Swaziland like Cyclone Dando did a week or so ago, but you better believe that if Funso does makes an appearance I will be moving my body like a cyclone to the song Cyclone during a cyclone.  Not everyone gets to check that one off their bucket list.

Penny all grown up

I know Penny is very popular among all of you back home.  She is all grown up now and no longer sleeps inside on a bed.  She sleeps in the tree with all the other chickens now, however she does feel entitled to come into the house whenever she feels like it so search for dropped food.  I expect her to get knocked up soon, and then maybe there will be some baby Pennys running around!

Mpaka Refugee Camp

January 12^th, 2012

As the New Year begins so do some new projects in my community.  This week I have met with several committees at the refugee camp here in my community.  We (Addy, Ryan, and I) have decided to teach a weekly HIV/AIDS education class and a weekly English class for the camp residents, as well as plan a massive cleaning campaign to be held in the future that will focus on keeping the camp tidy as well as sanitation, hygiene, and safety.

Its been a lot to think about but I am excited to become really busy.  Today we had a meeting with the youth committee and the camp committee.  The leader of the Youth Committee is a 26 year old man nicknamed Amnesty who is from Somalia.  He I think is going be a very crucial part to the success at the camp.  Within the 1.5 days between our first meeting and our meeting today he managed to compile a list 70 camp residents interested in our classes.  He also organized our meeting today bringing together people from all different areas of the camp.

There were about 20-25 people at this meeting, which to date, is the largest meeting ever gathered during my service for the sole purpose to talk about a project.  We started by introducing our names and why we were there.  Peace Corps prepares you for one language barrier, but try six.  We had people there representing Swaziland, Somalia, Congo, Rwanda, and Burundi.  Despite their native languages they also speak French, Italian, Swahili, and thankfully English.  With the help of many English-speaking refugees serving as translators we got everyone introduced.  About halfway through one man made the comment that he is thankful we are all here, working together, as a family.  I really liked this comments because not only are there extreme language and cultural differences that separate all of us, but there is also religion.  Christian, Muslim, Traditional, it’s a giant mix.  The camp also hosts refugees from Mozambique, Uganda, Ethiopia, and Zimbabwe that I know of.  I guess the one thing that we do all have in common is not being Swazi.  We can all bond on the fact that we are all separated from our own countries (although us Americans it was by choice not force) trying to make a life in Swaziland. 

We had a really good meeting filled with two-way conversation and what I hope is a sparked desire to work together.  We ended with a resident guided tour of the camp.  Some of the residents let us see inside their homes.  The camp housing is giant brick buildings that are divided into “houses.”  Residents are required to build any dividing walls and furnish their space.  Most of the refugees are here for years so they have really been able to set up functional homes with separate sleeping, living, and cooking areas.  It was humbling to see how they live; makes me think twice about complaining about my next bucket bath or pit latrine experience.  The “bathrooms” at the camp aren’t even accessible, weeds have over grown and made it impossible to get to them, so residents relieve themselves wherever and in plastic bags that just get thrown outside.  The cleaning campaign is going to be a real great benefit to the quality of living at the camp. 

Some of the refugees have shared parts of their stories.  I hope to hear more.  They are sad; many of these refugees are young adults who had the fortune to be sent away by their parents to escape whatever they faced in their home countries.  They talk of leaving, going to some other camps just to be chased out by Xenophobia (fear of foreigners), until finally landing in Swaziland.  They say they will go back someday, hopefully with skills that will help their families live better lives.  I guess that’s where I come in.

Ngiyatsandza

January 11^th, 2012

This phrase, Ngiyatsandza, is one of the most frequent phrases said to me here in Swaziland.  It directly translated means ‘I am loving’ but when said to someone it means ‘I am loving you.’  Swazi culture is rooted in the tradition that a male cannot let a female, whom he finds marriage worthy, pass without telling her he loves her and asking her to marry him.  Needless to say I get a lot of this unwanted attention.  It’s at the point where I usually play along with their game and say ok but I’m worth so many cows (which my host mom has officially upped to 100 because I proved I can weed the maize fields like a good swazi wife can).

However sometimes they spice up the comment with some other phrases that just make you laugh out load.  Here are a few that I have gotten in the past few days.

While trying to get to a khumbie you get grabbed a lot by drivers who want you to take their van.  The other day a driver grabbed me and I just pulled myself loose and kept walking.  As I ignored him he called after me “Hey, touch me back, touch me back.”  Who says that?

Then today as I was boarding a bus a guy came up to me and kept saying “lets dilute, lets dilute.”  I was like huh?  He explained “I’m black, your white, lets dilute.”  I just laughed, patted his arm and said not today bhuti, not today.

It gets annoying but when you have so many of these encounters everyday you just have to laugh it off.  Today I got hit on three times.  My neighbor on the bus (happens everytime I end up sitting next to a male), the guy who wanted to “dilute” with me, and an old man who tried getting my phone number to “work on a project.”  When I’m with my host mom I get hit on even more, I don’t know why, but she no longer finds it entertaining, she just straight face asks them how many cows they are going to give her for me.  She rejects any number they come up with.

Happy New Year

To celebrate the end of 2011 and the start of 2012 I stayed on my homestead in Malindza.

All of my host siblings but one came back to the homestead for the holiday.  Each of my four older host sisters have a son so there were four young boys, with endless energy, running about.  It made for a very busy homestead.

For New Years Eve, we all stayed up, had a mini dance party, and then lit off small fireworks at the stroke of midnight.  It was full of the usual excitement and the night was flashing with blurbs of light as all the homesteads welcomed 2012.  We got the fireworks off just in time to, a very heavy rainfall came at 12:30am.  Rain is a perfect way to start 2012, we need it bad, lets hope its a sign of more to come!

On New Years Day my host sisters spent all morning cooking a feast for lunch.  I helped a little, but lets face it I’m not the best in the kitchen.  I did make some pretty tasty Kool-aid however.  We had grilled fish and chicken, local mushrooms picked from the field, rice, beans, and vegetable stew.  Then we spent the rest of the day napping off the heavy meal.

It was really fun having all my host siblings home.  I got to talk with them individually and really connect with them.  Its very weird not being the oldest (in this family I am the fifth born).  For the first time in my life I have older siblings and I’m not totally sure how to act being a younger sibling.  I’m not so sure I would have enjoyed not being a first-born. 

In this family I have three very successful older sisters.  They are really good role models for Swazi girls.  They all have sustainable careers, are married, and waited to have kids until they were married.  That’s somewhat of a rare combo here so I am proud that my sisters are proving that Swazi women can be modern, independent, successful, yet still respect tradition. 

Anyways back to New Years.  They don’t really do New Years resolutions here.  They know of them but they aren’t so committed to making or breaking them here.  I have made the resolution to just keep on surviving Africa.  Even though its been seven months, there are still battles everyday here that take fighting.  For example like not freaking out when I came home after Christmas to a snake in my house.  Not a big one, and in the snakes defense I think it was just resting under my door and I pushed it into my house, but still.  One of the boys killed it right away and honestly it wasn’t scary, just makes you very aware about what you might be living with.  I also resolute to keep my house neater.  This factor did not contribute to the snake getting in but the neater my stuff is the easier it will be to see a creature hiding within. 

I am also trying to speak SiSwati more.  I realized when going back to Khiza that there are accents within SiSwati.  I could understand so much more in Khiza because they are influenced by the Zulu language, which is more enunciated and the words are more broken apart.  In Malindza they speak “Deep SiSwati,” meaning they string all of there words together, no breaks, and talk very fast.  Its no wonder I spend most of my time say “angiva,” which means I don’t understand.  I honestly can’t understand.  I have gotten a tutor to meet with every other week.  Hope it helps some.

So here is to a New Year; a new whole year in Africa.