May 25th-27th, 2012

Bushfire: Swaziland’s International Festival of the Arts.

This year’s theme was “Bring Your Fire” and it was for sure brought over three days of music, dancing, spoken word, giant puppetry, food and crafts. It all takes place in a giant field behind one of Swaziland’s best entertainment facilities, House On Fire. Sponsored by Swaziland’s one cell phone provider MTN, Bushfire is an awesome collection of creativity from all over Southern Africa. Acts and vendors from Swaziland, South Africa, and Mozambique brought people together from all over Africa, Europe, America, Asia and even Australia in the name of giving back. All proceeds go towards an organization that helps students in Swaziland gain sponsors to get a better education. There were also vendors displaying the best of Swaziland’s handicraft business and an entire array of Southern African cuisine!! Acts includes Swaziland’s own Country band, reggae artists, chart toping South African pop artists, dance troupes, rapper, and my favorite act Jeremy Loops – he does looping, a form of music where each instrument gets recorded separate and looped together – soooo cool. He performed a set on Saturday, but then on Sunday did an impromptu set where anyone could come and record and instrument and then they created songs right there. It was really fun and creative. Everything about the festival was awesome and I can’t wait for next year!

I braced the bitter winter nights to camp at a local backpackers near the festival grounds for the weekend. Aside from 35F cold at night camping here was so cool. This campsite provides the best scenic view in Swaziland and resides on a game park. I woke up to breathtaking mountains bathed in morning sun, and had warthogs and springbok sniffing out my tent. And for the amount of sleep I actually got, the cold really wasn’t too awful. The festival went into the wee hours of the morning with Swazi DJs rocking the dance floor (or field for that matter). Having to jump back into “work” Monday was hard; I think I could sleep for a whole week.

 The Venue Jeremy Loops Giant Mozambiquan Puppets

May 23rd, 2012

We have begun our second term for our English class at the refugee camp. This term we are working with several refugees as counterparts. A few have attended the training I mentioned earlier and all of them have been informally taught lesson planning and teaching skills. We are only two weeks in but it is going so well!! It is really fun working with our counterparts, it takes some of the pressure off us volunteers and having their input is so valuable. They hear what the students aren’t telling us “teachers.” They know what the students want, need, and what will and won’t work in our lessons. It’s just nice to have eight heads working together rather then just three. So far we have assessed every student and split them into three different groups: literacy (very beginner/learning to write), beginner English, and Intermediate English. I am teaching the intermediate level with two of our counterparts. I have about 15 males in my group and we are focusing mainly on conversation as well as advanced vocabulary and sentence structure. Obviously our first term was chaotic since we didn’t have any experience or guidance as to how to teach English as a foreign language, but this term is surprisingly 100% better. Its stress free and enjoyable and with our counterparts its sustainable, snaps for sustainability!

We have our planning sessions with our counterparts on Mondays and they really are just fun get-togethers. We meet at someone’s house so its casual and plan and eat snacks and share about our weekends. This last week we had a birthday party for our counterpart Amnesty. We had cake and tea and a little celebration. It’s not custom to celebrate birthdays in many African cultures but as Americans we felt it was necessary and a great way to show our appreciation for all his help. It’s just so awesome to have such reliable, excited, willing, and creative counterparts.

 Mr. Moogee, Amnesty, Ryan, Mudu, Addy at Amnesty's Bday party!

My host dad was so impressed with Beau’s presence on the homestead that he decided to get himself a kitten. So now we have two cats. It’s actually proved to be a really good thing. This new kitten is maybe only two weeks younger then Beau and they hit it off right away. They are best friends now! Beau goes over to the main house everyday and plays with this new kitten, which hasn’t gotten a name yet. I have been calling him Bear in my head but haven’t committed to officially naming him yet. So I will call him Bear in this post to try it out, see if it fits.

Having the two cats is turning out to be a great teaching tool for the host family. They see me do something with Beau and then they try it with Bear. For example my Make mimicked my homemade litter box and made one for inside their home. She also commented to me that Beau looked so much healthier and his fur was shiny. I told her that it was because of the food he ate. I was a great lesson in how maize meal and milk (typical pet food in Swaziland) doesn’t provide the nutrients animals need, but the cat food I feed Beau is made with the correct protein, vitamins, and minerals. I may now get stuck footing the cat food bill now, but eventually the kittens will start hunting and may not require as much. I also explained to here that I would be getting Beau fixed as its PC policy for having a pet. I told her benefits of the procedure and offered to take, but not pay for, Bear. My Make was very intrigued and if she can afford she really wants to get Bear fixed also – we are hoping we can get a discount for multiple cats. She doesn’t want him to become a midnight caller, visiting all the lady cats in the neighborhood. Bear is still afraid to leave the comforts of the main house, but Beau is slowly coaxing him out. Beau has lead Bear to my hut twice now, which has proved to be a fun place to explore.

 Beau is the dark one in front who is scowling and Bear is the whiter one in back looking guilty!

I have been in Swaziland for exactly 11 months now. Living in an impoverished country has really opened my eyes to the world and opened my mind into thinking about how the world works. Not scientifically or biologically, but socially. Why do societies develop so differently, and why are some so far behind then others? I have read books on how societies develop, why some better then others, and why some cease to exist now and others have prevailed. It all seems to revolve around the ability to feed and protect oneself, including the resources available, location on the earth, and relationship with neighboring societies. All of these factors indeed contribute to why Swaziland is in the state it is in today, but none of them have answered my real question: Why didn’t the Swazi’s invent the light bulb? Or any other underdeveloped nation for that matter?

I am currently reading a book I borrowed from another PCV titled Uncommon Genius, by Denise Shekerjian. The author interviews 40 recipients of the MacArthur Award in a quest to discover the essence of creativity. If your like me you probably just said “What’s the MacArthur Award?” It’s an award given out to people who have accomplished something great even when support, money, and societal desire weren’t available. Recipients are not nominated and cannot apply; they are simply found and awarded. They range from writers, to teachers, to artisans, to a clown, to scientists and university professors. There is no topic or subject off limits, simply all the recipients took a chance on something in their field and made it a success.

Anyways this book has really helped me narrow in on answering my question. As I have stated before my biggest frustration here is the lack of anything beautiful. I ask why? Why do some cultures paint every surface available? Why do some take the time to intricately carve designs in everyday objects? Why did the Egyptians decorate the inside of their pyramids? Why did the ancient Greeks and Romans build such beautiful buildings using three different pillars when a simple slab of rock would do the job? Why do Asian cultures value dance and theater so much? From past to present art seems to be everywhere, and then I came to Swaziland. It’s been 11 months and I still can’t find it. Why?

In answering the question “where does creativity come from” the author of Uncommon Genius gives you 200 pages of explanation. It took me 60 pages but I feel as if the light bulb in my head has just been turned on and I have found an answer to my question, or at least a beginning point to narrow in on. Its simple, the answer is creativity. I know your saying “duh” you can’t create anything without creativity but hear me out. Shekerjian argues that creativity is fostered through the conditions in which an individual lives. In essence I already knew this, of course if you never are given a chance to do art you probably will not be an artist. However I never thought of it on a societal level, I always considered creativity an individualistic issue. If you have the creative gene it will show up somewhere with or without the art influence. A big part of creating something successful out of a creative idea is having the courage and confidence to keep at it. This can only be fostered by ones surroundings, which as the author argues is “unlike concerns about personal comfort […] the culture in which you live and breath is largely beyond your control.” Her point is that culture has the power to determine what creative thought will be honored and what will be laughed at.

True most great things today were not so great when they were first presented, but the culture in which that idea was fostered at least allowed the thought to become a reality. If creativity isn’t encouraged, then how will anything ever become? Shekerjian points out that this theory can also bee seen in respect to intelligence: culture can determine an entire societies intellectual capacity. “So, you might have the most wonderful logical and mathematical potential in the world, but if you aren’t in a culture which allows you to pursue math or science or logic or chess, you’re lucky if you can add numbers up to ten.” Here in Swaziland I have never heard somebody say “Swazi’s are smart.” All I hear is “Swazi’s are lazy and not smart like other people.” And as we know a Swazi did not invent the light bulb, see what I am getting at?

I have found in Swaziland the value is in conformity rather then individuality. Considering the current political state, it’s not hard to assume why this is. Many societies in history have periods where the innovator was often thrown out, or the person who was different is weeded out of society. Underdeveloped societies across the history have struggled to embrace the creative mind; Swaziland is still struggling to accept that creativity leads to innovation, which leads to development. However, they have to learn that creativity does not mean that everyone fits into a perfect box, we can’t all play the same role in society and we cannot punish those who think outside that perfect box. I see creativity and individuality starting to be embraced here, so with time we may see great things come out of this tiny society! After all look how long it took our societies to figure it out, even now we still sometimes struggle to accept creativity for what it really is.

So why didn’t a Swazi invent the light bulb? Maybe because no one told them they could. I think I have discovered that my role as a development worker may not necessarily be to develop a country (i.e. infrastructure, income generation, water projects, etc), but it may in fact be to develop the culture (i.e. encourage and instill confidence to accept what is different and think creatively). Maybe with a paintbrush and a little positive reinforcement, I can show Swazi’s how to literally paint there way to a better future!

May 1-4th, 2012

…in hopes that our projects don’t become train wrecks!

Whether its paranoia that we don’t have the proper knowledge, self-doubt that we can make a difference, or we all just want a week of showers, the “Mighty Fine G9” has asked for yet another training.

I Don’t know how the office did it but they organized a four-day, three topic training for volunteers and their various counterparts. Each session lasted about a day and a half. We were allowed to come to any of the three and bring the same or different counterparts. Thankfully I had the same four counterparts with for all the three sessions but some volunteers had different counterparts coming every day. Imagine trying to arrange accommodation and meals for this when so many people are coming and going. The training was held up in Ngonini, in the Northern HhoHho region. To make logistics even worse, the transport situation is still a nightmare. Eastbound transport was not operating the day we were all traveled to Ngonini so PC has to come and fetch all of our counterparts and us. By the end of the training all transport was not operating due to a protest so PC also had to bring all of us back home. It didn’t mind the free ride right to my doorstep!

Anyways, I attended all three sessions with four members of the refugee camp. The three topics we learned about were TEFL (teaching English as a foreign language), Early childhood development, and Permaculture (aka gardening). I actually learned a ton and have a lot of new tools to bring back to my community.

The TEFL training was great, especially since we had with us the members of the camp that serve as our translators during our classes. We have just completed our first 12-week English class at the camp and needed some guidance and to where to go with our next term of lessons. We had a chance to learn how to better assess our students and to strategize how to plan our lessons. This next term we will be working with our translator students as co-teachers. Ryan, one of the PCVs I am working with lead these four and some other camp residents through a teacher training class over the last three months. They now know how to write a lesson plan and teach a class. We will be planning our lessons with them and dividing the teaching responsibilities. Hopefully this way, not only will the knowledge we are giving be sustainable, but also the lessons themselves will be able to continue after we are back in America.

The second topic was Early Childhood Development. This is such a critical part of development and has been severely lacking here in Swaziland. It is getting better, but it’s simply a lack of knowledge so the more we can teach and set an example the better this society will become. I am not working with a pre-school (or kresh as they are called here) or a primary school, but I hope to use a lot of the stuff I learned during the session with my bobhuti on my homestead. We learned all about games that stimulate development and I plan to start an activity box and organize a time every week when the boys can come and play with anything in the box. Simple strategy games and puzzles are so important here. We take them for granted at home, but this week at the training I saw first hand middle-aged women who teach pre-schools who had no idea how to do a 25-piece puzzle for age 3+. As is evident not being taught this critical thinking and decision-making has major repercussions once kids reach adulthood. I also hope to help with emotional development. If it can’t be seen in how children are treated here it is sure evident in how animals are treated. Pets don’t exist here. This society doesn’t see reason to treat an animal nice. By setting an example and treating animals with the care and respect any living being deserves, we as PCVs have the power to change how everyone is treated. It has been found that this society doesn’t want to beat when someone is bad, or say mean things to get people to behave a certain way, they simple don’t know what else to do. So I hope that I can set an example by showing my family and neighbors that there are other solutions to problems that don’t involve physically or emotionally hurting a person.

The last session was on permaculture. Having just ventured into the world of sustainable gardening I really enjoyed this session. We were taught and did a practical with an organization called Vusenotfo developed by an RPCV (returned PCV). This organization works to train communities on how to build sustainable gardens on a budget (or no budget as most people are working with). By using live fencing, using manure from animals, making compost from food scrapes, and planning and preparing your soil and garden bed, one can produce more food by doing less work. Food security is a major problem in Swaziland. A combination of things has left the current generations feeling they can’t grow their own food. Food security at the refugee camp is also an issue. Our four counterparts got really into the practical we did building a garden. They learned a lot of new techniques, asked great questions and want to start their own personal gardens at the camp. I am excited to help them with this. Just by setting an example I think a lot of the refugees will follow suit.

Overall the training was really helpful and I learned a lot. I really enjoy these workshops that include our counterparts. We may all be from different countries, have different levels of education, different reasons for being in Swaziland, but we were all at this training for the reasons: to make life better. It is easy to forget all the differences when people from five different countries can all sit together and joke with each other over a card game.

April 29th, 2012

So my garden is three weeks old now. Two weeks ago I planted my first round of crops. I planted Lettuce seedlings, carrots and spinach from seeds, and green onion that I transplanted from my Make’s garden. Today I Planted the second round of lettuce and green onion. I am out of room unless I decide to extend my garden, but my Make told me that I could now have a plot in the big garden. I guess I have proved I am responsible enough to manage a garden lol.

Everything is growing really well. My seeds have sprouted and the things I transplanted have successfully come back to life. I had a slight problem with birds however. Little birds live in my roof and were eating my lettuce. PC gave us old mosquito netting to use to screen our windows so I used some of that to make a tarp to go over my garden. It worked. The birds haven’t been able to figure out how to get in under the netting. The goats and cows are now allowed to roam onto the homestead since the maize fields have been harvested so the netting will also keep them from sticking their heads in and eating my vegetables. I have also started tomatoes seedlings in my house and am trying to grow some herbs.

I started this garden for only personal reasons. My host Make has got the green thumb and this project was for her to teach me the ropes of this garden business. However, I came home the other day and asked my host Sisi what she had been doing all day. She said she was in the family garden all day. “Planting?” I asked. “No Building a door,” she said. I went and looked and saw that it was constructed out of scrap corrugated tin roofing. I said, “It looks like the door to my garden.” She said, “yes, we liked yours and wanted to try it.” They previously had a hand crafted wire and wood door. It just goes to show that even when we don’t know what we are doing, we still have the power to make a difference.

April 27th, 2012

I brought home a new friend from my extended vacation; I new little kitten I have named Beau. My friend Emma’s cat on her homestead had babies in February and this little guy needed a good home. I’m a sucker for orphaned cats so of course he came home with me. He was originally named Belle until his gender was identifiable; I simply changed Belle to Beau. He will take my Swazi surname… Beau Dube…that translated from French and siSwati means Beautiful Zebra. Not to be confused with BoDube, pronounced the same as Beau Dube, which translated from siSwati means many zebras or multiple members of the Dube family. Thankfully his markings slightly resemble a zebra’s stripes.

He will be a homestead cat eventually, responsible for killing rats and mice, but until he is comfortable he will be my hut mate. He is really snuggly and loves to play. I bring him into the main house for Generations every night and we spend some time outside everyday getting all the other animals and him acquainted. The dogs are the biggest challenge. They are so far extremely afraid of Beau and wont come near him. The chickens find him interesting and the goats and cows could care less.

The family has been way more excited about him then I expected. Swazi generally don’t like cats. They find them scary. However, my four Bobhuti love him. They call him by name and play with him. It has actually broken down the small wall between me and my host brothers. We have been shy with each other but now with Beau as a buffer we are talking much more. If I don’t bring him into the main house in the evening I have to go get him so the family can play with him. Even my Babe told me he is happy to have a cat to help with the mice and is helping me introduce the cat to the dogs. Through working together I have also found out my dogs have names… only took 8 months to learn that. One is named Spring and the other is named in siSwati something that means to jump.

The transition to having a cat on the homestead is going much smother then I anticipated and I hope that it will promote respect for house pets with the children (not something that’s really taught here).

P.S. Its official my pet chicken Henny Penny is actually a Cocky Locky. He is not the top rooster yet but maybe someday, once we kill off all the bigger ones. Fact #1: a rooster will never grow larger then the alpha rooster. Fact #2: roosters crow every half an hour to mark the time – I’ve tested this and its true, they are always right.

April 23-26th, 2012

I planned a one night get away to visit two PC friends who lived up in the northern part of the country. It was suppose to be just a quick overnight but turned into a 3 night, 4-day vacation due to a transportation issue. The eastbound transport operators coming from the Manzini bus rank decided they wanted to use a satellite bus rank. There is a satellite rank already across town, however the transport operators didn’t want to use that one, so they created their own on a bit of private property. It is the opposite end of town from the normal and the satellite bus ranks and is just in a giant field. I’m an eastern volunteer so this move includes all of my transportation. The situation was deemed possibly hostile so us volunteers were not allowed to move in and out of Manzini, thus my one night get-away turned into a mini stay-cation.

I wasn’t complaining it was a fun time. The first two nights I stayed at my friend Emma’s homestead. We made dinner with her Make every night and I hadn’t eaten that good in a while. The first night we made individual pizzas – my first pizza since May of last year. I tired making mine with gluten free flour - looks like a pizza, tasted like a pizza, but doesn’t stay together like pizza so it had to be eaten with a fork; the one and only fork that is usually in a Swazi kitchen (they use spoons if they use silverware at all). We then made makeshift s’mores in the oven. The next day Emma helped her Make slaughter a chicken and pluck it. Her Make then made us chicken stew with rice and we made a tomato and fruit salad, and hot chocolate for dessert. It was a feast. The last night I spent at my friend Mia’s, who lives in the same community as Emma.

It is really fun to visit other volunteers. We are all in the same situation yet our homesteads, projects, and communities are all so different. It was great to get walking tours of their community, meet their host families, and see just how they make life work. I always get great ideas of things I can do around my house when I see other volunteer’s homes; PCVs are really creative when it comes to hut living. I am now inspired to revamp my hut!

April 16th, 2012

I have been in Swaziland exactly 10 months and 7 days. Today I feel I had my first “completed” success. I am involved in many successful projects in my community, but most of them are in progress and will be for while. Today Addie and I held our last HIV Prevention class at the Refugee Camp… officially completing our first project… it feels good to be able to say I did this and it was a success!

Every Monday evening since the end of January we have taught this HIV Prevention class which also covers decision making and goal setting, all while learning English in the process. We have had an average 35-40 students present at each class. We teach outside, the students sit on a crumbling cement wall and we sticky tack flip chart paper onto the side of a building as our “chalkboard.” Ironically the building whose wall we use is a large classroom that I have never seen open. Only “proper facilitators” are aloud to use it; we have been assured we are not proper facilitators. The levels of English speaking is everywhere from no English to conversationally fluent. We teach in English and then have every step translated into Somalian, then into Swahili, then sometimes into French. Thankfully we have willing students who translate for us, but it makes for some interesting lessons.

The student’s last piece of homework for the class was to create posters with messages of HIV prevention to display around the Refugee Camp. We had never given group homework before so I was not sure it would be a success. However, today they all surprised me. We had five very well done posters. Detailed drawings, great messages, and ALL of the information was correct. I guess despite the language barriers the students proved that they had gained some knowledge.

To celebrate their hard work we made them each a certificate for completing the course and thanks to PSI (local NGO that promotes male circumcision and condom dispersion) we gave each student a box of 100 condoms. The condom conversation was always a hot topic in class, but by the end of course each poster stated that using a condom was one of the best ways to prevent against HIV, STIs, and pregnancy. Addy had contacted PSI and asked for a box of condoms and they delivered nine boxes totally 27,000 condoms. We are passing them out like emaswedi (candy). To really drill condom usage I even did a condom demonstration before giving them out to our students. This got a lot of embarrassed giggles, as I am a young, single, female, showing a group of mostly men, mostly Islamic students how to use a condom. However, I also saw a lot of nodding heads taking in my directions. We had a little ceremony where they got their certificate, their box of condoms, and got to shake our hands and get their photo taken, and of course a round of applause. I was so proud to see how happy they were to have participated and be acknowledged for their work.

After class we were treated like celebrities. Everyone wanted a picture with us and they were so thankful. It’s a bittersweet ending. I am happy to see the successful end to a project but I am sad to say goodbye to Monday nights at the camp. However, we are continuing our English lessons on Tuesday nights so I still get to hang out with all my new friends!

Presenting the Certificates

The whole group in front of the building we can't use!

One of the posters the students made

April 11th, 2012

I have been really lucky until now when it comes to my water situation. Swaziland has a water service and each homestead can have a meter and tap installed so they don’t have to fetch water. My homestead does have a tap fortunately as well as a Jojo tank (very large, green container) used to collect rainwater. However, we have a broken pipe between our water meter and our tap. When the tap is turned on half of the water leaks out before it gets to the tap and we still get charged by the water service for it. For months we have only been turning the tap on every once in a while, and have been using collected rainwater instead. To avoid large fees my host family has now decided to not use the tap on the homestead until it gets fixed. The water service says the family is responsible to buy the new pipe and then they will replace it. The new pipe cost E2000 (that’s a lot). Since it hasn’t rained here for a long time, the rainwater collection is now low.

So I find myself in the unpleasant situation of having to really fetch my water. Compared to America I have always had to fetch my water, meaning filling up a bucket everyday and hauling it to my house. But now I’m really fetching my water. I take my two 25 liter barrels and haul them in a wheel barrel through the African bush (literally through the bush, I have gotten lost every time I have gone) to our water meter. It only takes 15 minutes to walk to but the whole process takes about an hour. And hauling 50 liters of water back on uneven ground, dodging thorny branches, while trying to keep your wheel barrel balanced, is quite challenging.

My host Make and I have been fetching water together this week and she has vowed to get it fixed soon. She worked really hard to not get stuck living as a servant to tasks Swazi women traditionally are burdened by. Today she told me how she escaped.

When she was my age she was walking everyday long distances to fetch water, several times a day, with a baby on her back, one on the way, and two small ones at home. She was living at her in-laws, like a Swazi wife traditional does, while Babe (host dad) worked in town. One day she decided this was not the life she wanted. She didn’t want to get stuck doing the same thing everyday, not being able to do anything else. The next time Babe was home she told him she was going with him, she wasn’t going to live at the homestead anymore as was culturally expected. Babe warned that the homestead would be angry at her, but permitted her to go. Without a word to anyone else, she took her youngest daughter and went to live in Manzini (urban town) and “started her life.” She got a job and spent her lunch hour learning to sew (is now her source of income). After two years she went back and collected her two oldest daughters and raised all four of them in Manzini. She worked to send them to good schools so they could have opportunities and not get stuck at the homestead like she almost did. She raised them “on love” and has proved that even a Swazi women has the power to change her life if she really wants to.

April 6th, 2012

It only took me 10 months but I have finally started a personal garden. Having never really gardened before and feeling very unconfident in my ability to successfully do so I asked my Make to teach me. She eventually suggested that I build a personal garden right next to my house. A small one that I can manage and grow just what I need rather then try contending with the big family garden.

So I went to town, bought three meters of cheap fencing, a hand shovel, and some gardening gloves. Blindingly being guided by my Make’s design and with the help of my 4 host brothers (really just the neighbor kids who have made my homestead their permanent residence simple because no one will send them home), we built a garden. Using the fence I bought, a house wall, some logs, some wire, and some scrap corrugated tin we managed to enclose a small area. I am doubtful that the chickens will stay out, but we will take on that challenge when we cross it. My BoBhuti (host brothers) then created a mixture of cow manure and ash from the fire to fertilize the dirt inside. Now I just need to heavily water the area for a week and then I can start planting.

It actually didn’t take that long, in the matter of an hour or so it was complete, and I am grateful and excited about it now, but I have to saw it was a quite frustrating hour. I felt totally out of control of what was happening and I felt guilty for mostly watching while this garden was created because I wasn’t really sure how to help. Yes I needed the help to complete this project but it was a bit overwhelming for me. Despite my discomfort I could tell my host family didn’t mind helping. The boys thrived in the building aspect and my Make, I think, appreciated the distraction from idleness. My Babe (host dad) is on a, for lack of better description, church prayer retreat for Easter, and my host Sisi is at her son’s father’s family’s homestead for Easter. She wants to get his hair cut now that he is one year old and Swazi tradition claims that the father’s family gets the honor of cutting it. So the homestead is quiet and Make was looking for something to keep her busy… and now I have garden!

March 31st, 2012

My oldest host sister is expecting her second child. She lives in the capital city Mbabane and kindly invited me to her baby shower this past Saturday. Turns out Swazi baby showers are the exact same as American baby showers: tons of food, fun games, presents, and an afternoon with your best girlfriends.

They say Americans are loud, but I think Swazi women could give any group of American women a run for their money. I had never been with so many Swazi women indoors before. Most Swazi events are held outside and the noise isn’t evident, but inside I would have never believed how loud it could get. It was all sounds of happiness though… tons of laughter. It was really fun to just hang out with a bunch of women all afternoon.

I unfortunately didn’t get to experience the full shower. Keeping with true Swazi culture the event didn’t start until 3:00pm, when it was scheduled for noon. Since I had to catch public transport back to site before dark I had to leave at 3:30pm. Even with the effort I still didn’t make it home until way past dark.

I caught the last bus home and let me tell you once the sun sets public buses basically become party buses. I am fairly certain every single man was drinking and we even had an aisle dancer. Of course I didn’t go unnoticed, a loud outburst of excitement roared through the bus as I made my way from the back to exit. Many “I love yous” and shouts of “white person” followed me. However, I survived the experience and my host family met me with a vehicle at the bus stop so I didn’t have to walk home alone in the dark. There just so happened to be some male family members visiting my host family and they had a truck that they let my host mom borrow to fetch me. She told them she needed to collect her daughter and when they saw me they were perplexed. The only explanation my host dad gave them was “she has my last name, she is my daughter,” meaning don’t be rude to her.

Sometimes belonging to a family here is the best thing about this whole experience.

Unless you’re in Swaziland… then please go chasing waterfalls.

One of my major struggles here in The Swaz is the lack of appreciation for beautiful things. Yes the nature of Swaziland is breathtaking, but the lack of beautiful designs, architecture, art, landscaping, anything aesthetically pleasing really is a bit of a downer for me. I just want to marvel at something.

Well I finally found something to marvel at … a waterfall!!

Another PCV lives about an hours trek to an amazing waterfall. Of course this also means there are mountains to marvel at as well. It was amazing. Myself and some fellow PCVS spent the better part of Sunday morning soaking in the sight and sounds of cascading water. It’s a popular spot for Swazis to come to also, but thankfully it was Sunday and they were all at church so we had the spot all to ourselves.

The waterfall is also a religious site for Jericho’s, a religion originating in Swaziland, and they hold a pilgrimage here every year. Remnants of their last visit were evident in candle wax dripped over rock and trees, wherever a suitable candlestick holder was found. They also believe it is where the seven headed snake lives, however the snake never made an appearance while we were there. Aside from bugs and a frog, the only wildlife we saw was a village chicken looking very out of place struggling to climb the boulders.

At the grief and loss workshop one of the exercises was to create a reflection of a loss we had in our life. Like everyone I’ve experienced loss of family, friends, and pets, but the only thing I could think of to create was a torn out collage of an orange cat. Now many of you know I have a particular fancy for orange cats starting from when I bought my orange and white tabby when I was 11 years old.

So I’m missing my cats, is what your probably thinking. Well yes I do miss them in a sense but that was not the message my little collage was giving. Why am I telling you this, well I guess the reflection was surprising for me. I know most of you come to this blog to read about my adventures in Africa and with the Peace Corps in hopes that I ate something weird, participated in a bizarre traditional ritual, or singled handedly eradicated HIV. Well the Peace Corps experience is much more then eating worms and talking about safe sex. It’s teaching me way more about myself then I ever thought it would.

So back to the cat reflection, it actually represents my 11-year-old self. At 11 I was desperate to be passionate about something. I thought 11 was much too old to be passionless so I decided to take up liking cats. I bought a cat and became obsessed. Embarrassingly, talk about cats all the time, obsessed. I would share stories about my cat’s daily doings everyday during my 6th grade share-and-tell moment. I didn’t care what people thought of me or my intense passion for felines. However, as soon as 7th grade hit I realized my passion was socially unacceptable and I quickly shut it down, unfortunately closing down most of myself that was ever genuine. I’ve been struggling to find my 11-year-old self ever since.

However there is more to the story. I was 11 years old the very first time I ever traveled abroad. My parents blessed me with the opportunity to travel to the UK. I remember my mom asking if I wanted to go and no questions asked I said yes. I was fearless at eleven. If that opportunity has come to me at twelve I may not have taken it, I may have never gotten the “travel bug,” I wouldn’t be here in Peace Corps.

So as you can tell the Grief and loss workshop has opened up another path on my road to self-discovery. I am finally figuring out just who I am, and it turns out I’ve been hiding the better part of myself for a long time. Yep the Bethany you are all going to get when I come home is not going to be who you last saw… she is going to be better.

March 21st-23rd, 2012

To finish up our week long training we had a grief and loss workshop with our PCMO (medical officer). Talking about grief and loss sounds like a whole lot of crying and sadness but it wasn’t entirely about that. Yes there were tears, and sad stories, and surprise discoveries, but for me it was much more then that.

As Americans we tend to forget to take time for ourselves. There is always something to do for someone, somewhere to go, some responsibility pushing at us. Having packed my American work ethic I struggled as many volunteers do to adjust to the slower pace of life the majority of world operates at. If we are sitting it means we are wasting time, or at least that’s what I thought before this whole experience. Here sitting really is no waste of time at all, its time to recharge.

A simple task here equals the effort, emotional stress, and physical drainage of several tasks back home. My job at home was 5 miles from home and it took me 10 minutes to get to it. I didn’t have to talk to anyone on the way, I could listen to music of my choice, and I could control my temperature with air conditioning or heat. Here one place I work is about 5 miles from my house. It takes me an hour to get there. I walk, take transport, and then walk again. I walk when it’s hot, I walk when it’s raining, I walk when it’s windy, and I walk when it’s cold. I talk to every neighbor I pass, everyone at the shops, the transport operator, the person I am sitting next to, the bomake at the market, all the neighbors on the way to my destination, and then eventually the people I work with; all while caring my lunch, my materials for the day, a first aid kit, water, a book, and my umbrella for protection from the sun. And after I’m done with work I do it all over again to get home. One simple lesson takes all day and is exhausting. So moral of the story, take time for your self and don’t feel bad about it. It’s a struggle for me every day even here, but I think once I master “the art of doing nothing” my life will feel much more complete.

March 19th-21st, 2012

We have reached our mid-service training. While we still have a few months until we hit our actual mid-service, its still feels like a major accomplishment. Most of our “Mighty-Fine Group-Nine” converged at Thokoza Conference Center in Mbabane once again with visions of showers and catered meals in our heads. However we weren’t alone this time.

For the first three days of the training we had our PDM workshop with our counterparts from the community. Addy, Ryan, and I brought two counterparts with us. We had Bashin, our Kagogo Center Manager, whom we all work with and is our link to the inner council of the local community government. We also had Amnesty, our counterpart from the refugee camp. I am giving Amnesty a major shout-out here. He agreed to come to this workshop where not only was he be surrounded by Americans speaking English, but also Swazis speaking siSwati, neither of which are his first language. And he did fabulous!

We spent two days working with our counterparts on the step-by-step processes of identifying, developing, implementing, and evaluating a project. It was really nice to be able to work with our counterparts with PC right there to answer any questions we had. I think it gave everyone a boost of energy to get projects going.

It was also really fun to bond with our counterparts out of the community. We could hang out in a neutral environment; get to know each other outside of just working with each other. We taught Amnesty how to play some American card games, and he taught us and Bashin how to write our names in Arabic and is educating us on Islam. The great divide between cultures is melting away slowly and the laughter and smiles that replaced it is infectious.

New Wheels!

March 7th, 2012

Peace Corps has approved about 10 of us volunteers to purchase a bike. Based on our need, the terrain of our site and our desire we were each allotted money for a bike and a helmet. So I am now the proud owner of a bike… and its pink. It’s a bit hot for biking at the moment but once it gets cooler I hope to bike from my homestead to Mpaka where the clinic and the refugee camp are. Right now I take local transport because it would be about a two hour walk from Malindza Highway where I live. It only cost 4 rand each way but after several times a week it adds up. However that being said, biking here is not as easy as it sounds. Sure I have no hills to encounter but the only option to bike on is dirt path. A packed down dirt path no problem, but a loose dirt path, kind of hard. And then you have the attention factor. Seeing a white person is cause for commotion enough. Seeing a white person riding a bike creates a lot of excitement. I think I will finally discover the back paths through my community as to avoid as many people as possible when biking. Its just some days you cant take everyone laughing at you when your tired and hot and just want to get to where your going. Besides the embarrassment of riding, and the rough terrain, there are also the thorns. Almost every plant here in the low veld has vicious thorns. Roll over one of those and it’s a guaranteed popped tire. We will see how long my tires last until I’m walking again due to a flat tire.

March 6th, 2012

So many volunteers decided to invest in a mini oven with a stovetop. I haven’t as I’m not much of a baker to begin with and with the whole gluten free issue there aren’t many options of things to bake. However, I was sent some g-free all-purpose flour and my Make (host mom) just so happened to borrow our neighbors oven that a past volunteer left them. Two days ago I went into the house and said “Make I want to bake something sweet.” She just looked at me and held up her dessert cookbook, we were on the same page evidently. So we decided to try out one of my recipes from my PC cookbook. We baked a coffee cake, and get this friends, it actually turned out looking and tasting like a cake. Can you believe I baked a cake made from scratch? Not only did I bake a cake from starch but I also made frosting from scratch to go with it! Granted my Make, who worked at the one coffee shop/bakery in Manzini (my shopping town), helped me, but still this is a miracle. Many of you know of my past baking struggles and failures. I always would resort to boxed cake and frozen cookies.

So g-free flour works fairly well. The cake is crumbly as is to be expected but tastes like real cake and after not having cake for 9 months it was heavenly. It wasn’t intentional but this cake could have been baked in celebration of having been in Peace Corps for exactly 9 months now! We actually had really cool weather today also, around 27C, so it felt good to heat up the oven and get the whole kitchen smelling delicious. The cake was cooled, frosted, and ready to eat just in time for everyone to come into the house to watch Generations. Nothing makes a day great like dessert!

February 29th, 2012

Lion King reference:“Hey kid why you look so blue?” – Timon“I’d say he is more of a goldish brown.” – Pumba

While my skin may be turning a very nice shade of golden brown, I am feeling really blue lately. It the natural emotional cycle of a PCV to go in waves of extreme highs and extreme lows. I’m in a low and not entirely sure how I got here.

One reason is the heat. I think I have SAD (seasonal affective disorder) but because of too much sunlight, rather then the typical not enough. I just need winter, and I need it to come now now (in Swaziland ‘now’ means sometimes in the future, ‘now now’ means at this very moment). We have had a week of extreme heat with no breaks and its tearing me down. Today I had to walk to the High school to teach the Health Club. I was already grumpy and after the 30 min trek I was miserable. I was dripping sweat, I couldn’t see from the sweat in my eyes, my clothes were stuck to me; my legs from the knees down were a shade darker from the combo of sweat and dirt. My hut had been sprayed with indoor pesticide (that I was told it more poisonous then DDT – great) to prevent Malaria and I was having a not so good reaction to it. My nose would not stop running and I felt like I had a mid-winter MN cold, but it’s the middle of summer. I felt so out of control of everything.

Once I got to school Addy and I found a shaded step to rest on in the back out of sight. It seemed like the perfect place until I heard the whack of the punishment stick coming from the library. Seeing the tear stained faces of the students emerge was enough to send me over the emotional edge I was teetering on. I looked at Addy and said “I’m loosing it,” and tried with all the effort I had left to stop the tears from running down my face.

Addy, being the awesome person she is did help me by reading a blog post of a PCV in Ethiopia. I have attached it below and want you all to read it. He expresses what needs to be said. Being a Peace Corps Volunteer is amazing, but it’s also the hardest thing I have ever done, its not all frolicking baby goats and rainbows (but frolicking baby goats are seriously one of the greatest things ever).

http://waidsworld.wordpress.com/2011/08/07/the-real-peace-corps/

February 28th, 2012

One of my favorite parts of my community is being able to look at the night sky.

My community is in a very flat part of Swaziland, in the Lowveld. We can see hills in the distance in every direction but its flat for miles all around. Makes you feel like you’re at the bottom of a bowl, always looking up. Since the maize is almost ready to harvest when walking through the fields, which are everywhere, you literally get swallowed up in the scenery.

Being “below” everything has its advantages. The sky seems very broad with nothing to break it up. At night it makes you feel like you are at the Omni Theater at the MN Science Museum, completely surrounded. That first moment when the screen opens and the first image appears, that feeling of complete awe at such an engulfing sight. Often I also feel like I’m in a snow-globe, however it’s more of like a summer globe at the moment.

Since there are no city lights to pollute the night sky the stars are phenomenal. The moon, in its various stages of weaning and waxing, is extremely noticeable. When it’s full it lights the entire community in a silver glow, but when new, it unbelievable dark out. When its new is when you get the best star show. At this time I can see the Milky Way, which runs right over my hut. I sit on my steps, turn out my outside light and just take it all in.

February 11th-12th, 2012

I had my first Swazi funeral experience last night/this morning. My family is going to funerals every month but I had never been to one since none were in my community and Swazi funerals are not just a day trip. This funeral was in my community and was for a cousin of all my host siblings. All my older host sisters came home and I attached myself to them so they could show me the inner workings of a Swazi funeral.

A Swazi funeral is a several day affair. Family and non-family come in from all over and help prep for days. The day before the funeral a large makeshift tent is erected. Its really quite amazing these tents. They just find large tree branches with forked ends. Shove them into the ground so they stand upright and build a structure that tarps are then spread across to create an enclosure. This enclosure is used for sheltering the guests and to house the worship part of the memorial service. Grass is spread over the dirt floor for people to sit on and I couldn’t help at one point imagine that Jesus’ birth manger may not have looked all that different from this. Animals roaming around, wind threatening to take the whole thing down, people coming in and out to pay respects. However, we were participating in a memorial not a birth.

A Swazi memorial service and funeral are combined into what is called a night vigil, and it literally lasts all night. To prove myself as strong African women I mustered up some adrenaline and stayed up all night, from sunset to sunrise. Around 8:00pm everyone begins to arrive and continues to arrive throughout the night. There were probably 200 people there, and if I had just been blindfolded and dropped into the setting I would guess it was a wedding not a funeral. The whole thing was strangely full of energy it was bizarre.

One side of the homestead has the tent, where a nightlong church service is held. Singing, preaching, and testimonials fill the surprisingly crisp night air. The other side of the homestead is a tailgating party. It’s marula season here. Marula is a small tree-grown fruit that Swazis home brew into beer. Women can’t drink at these social events but the men sure can. All the men had gathered around a giant bonfire, they sat on the tailgates of their pickups and drink marula beer all night. Being thee only white person, or mlungu as they call me, I was the main attraction for this drunken group of men. I got at least 10 marriage proposals and hours of unwanted attention. Thankfully I had a safety net in the large group of my female Swazi relatives. They helped me fight them off when it got to be 4:30 am and I couldn’t react fast enough to get myself out of the situation.

In between the drunken men and the tent was the outdoor kitchen. This is where I spent most of the night with all the other women. This is were a Swazi women shines. It’s her safe zone. They can gather, gossip, complain, sing, laugh, sleep, and most of all cook. I spent the first few hours of the evening inside this mud and stick hut that has a thatched roof and dirt floor, very worn from years of everyday use. I helped my host sisters, cousins, and aunts hand grind peanuts, chop cabbage and carrots, and make jelly sandwiches for the 3:00am teatime. There were up to twelve of us in there at a time. I loved listening to them talk. I didn’t understand much but it felt comfortable. We worked under the glow of the single light bulb that illuminated the hut. Gogo (grandma) sat in the corner peeling boiled beetroot. Her purple dyed fingers working diligently form years of experience as our shadows danced around her. Right outside the hut was another 10 women who were managing the three-legged pots that were boiling over a very large fire. The floor became so hot that once teatime came all you had to do was place the teapot on the floor near the fire and it heated up quickly.

At 5:00am, just as the hint of sunrise threatened the dark night, the entire party walked to the cemetery. We followed, single file at times, along the cow paths, guided by the faint sound of singing coming from the front of the procession. At the cemetery, located deep in the African bush under a tree, the crowd gathered around the gravesite. The women in the family had a chance to pay their respect at the site, a prayer was said and then the men took turns burying the casket. I couldn’t really see what was going on as I was standing in the back, but this was the first moment I realized this was a funeral. It felt sad. The man who died was my age. His name was Mduduzi, which means to bring comfort. He discovered or finally accepted he had HIV too late, and only started taking his ARVs (anti-retroviral therapy) a week ago. This one funeral was enough for me to emotionally feel the awfulness of this virus. Swazis are attending these funerals every month, why isn’t that enough to make them want to change their behavior to stop the progression of HIV?

By 6:00am everyone was back at the homestead and the meal we had been preparing all night was served: rice, samp, beetroot, cabbage, potato salad, beef, and chicken. I was on KP duty and washed everyone’s dishes. By 8:00am I was so exhausted, completely filthy, and now that it was daylight I was being shuffled around and introduced to the dignitaries of the community who were there. Thankfully my eldest sisi (sister) saw me when I finally got a chance to sit down and rescued me. She put me in a car and sent me home to bed. I slept for eight hours, woke for four, and then slept for another ten. It was glorious.

My family was really appreciative that I attended and helped with the funeral. I met a lot of relatives, made new friends, and truly bonded with my community. It was a crazy night that feels a bit blurry but a very unique experience.

February 6th, 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.

February 5th, 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 powderButterSugarPinch of saltFresh 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).

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!

January 31st, 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.

January 29th, 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

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.

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!

January 12th, 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.

January 11th, 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.

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.

December 24th-26th, 2011

They say the sun dances on Christmas morning.

So I decided last minutes that all I wanted for Christmas was to visit my training host family in Khiza, so I did.

On Christmas Eve it was down pouring and I boarded three different transports for 5 hours, bracing extreme crowds of holiday travelers, and very muddy roads. Normally this would make me real crabby, but it was Xmas Eve and I didn’t get flirted with or hit-on once. I thought the proposals would be much more frequent with the increase in people on the transport but not a single Christmas marriage proposal. I thought for sure at one point a guy was going to spit it out and he surprised me and instead said “Merry Christmas.” That moment made me tear up a bit. Maybe people felt bad that they knew I wasn’t going “home” for Christmas or the holiday really does have magic but everyone was so nice and I didn’t feel like a foreigner that day.

While I wasn’t able to go “home” for Christmas, I have to say I felt like I was at home. My training host family is so welcoming. They moved me right into the main house (not the lonely house I lived in before). I shared the girl’s room just like another daughter, helped make Christmas buns in the wood burning stove, and simply fell into the daily workings of the Mamba household.

Christmas in Swaziland has much less grandeur then in America but it’s the same in many ways. Everyone is home, food is a central part of the celebration and church is attended. There were no stockings hung by the chimney with care but that didn’t take away from the feeling of Christmas.

Christmas Eve we stayed up and watched Harry Potter 4 while we baked the Christmas buns for the next morning. Christmas morning everyone gets up to watch the sun dance as it only does on Christmas morning, or so they say. I wasn’t informed of this little tidbit until after the sun danced its way into morning. I will know to wake up for it next year. We spent the morning preparing food for later. Then we got on our Sunday best and went to Church. Everyone shows up to church in sections (I still don’t know why). Thabo and I went at 11 and as we walked up to the little brick, one room church the familiar sound of Silent Night (in SiSwati) came from the open windows. It was perfect.

Then it was time for food!! The pastor came back to our house and my host brothers braaied (BBQ) up the pig that was slaughtered for the event. We had potato salad (the exact way by mom makes it), beetroot salad, lipalishi, and pork. It was really good! After lunch our church took on another church in the community in a soccer game. The whole community gathered on the soccer pitch and cheered on their teams. Nazereen (my church) won in a shoot out! The evening ended with a walk around Khiza and a call from home. It was a great Christmas!

The next day I got to celebrate my first Boxing Day. This is when the family gives their gifts to each other if they can afford them. This year no gifts were given, but I had brought gifts for everyone and the happiness that filled the room as I handed them out were priceless! It was such a great moment, and they were such tiny gifts but meant so much to the recipients. It was the least I could do for a family who gave me a home for Christmas.

December 9th-14th, 2011

I have officially been in Swaziland for six months December 9th!

To celebrate half a year I am getting the heck out of town. Haha. No it’s just that December marks many celebrations in Swaziland and so not much is happening in the community. Schools are out, men are attending Incwala, people are preparing for Christmas. So it’s a good time for us volunteers to use some of our earned vacation days. We acquire 2 a month, so I decided to spend six of them relaxing on the beaches of Tofo, Mozambique.

I traveled with 7 of my fellow volunteers (including the other three from MN, funny how these thing work out). We spent a night dancing in the Capital city Maputo, and then took public transport 7 hours up to Tofo. Tofo, as a fellow visitor said to me, is so nice because it is secluded enough that all you meet is travelers, not tourists. I had never thought of the difference before, but it makes so much sense. I didn’t meet a single tourist in Tofo. Everyone was there either to scuba dive at one of the best dive sites in the world, or are volunteers/students who heard about Tofo through the grapevine, not in a travel guide.

We camped at a backpackers situated right on the beach. We basically had the beaches to ourselves. No symmetrical pattern of beach umbrellas or cabana boys to bring you drinks from the beach bar. Just local boys calling out to you to buy their bracelets… they make good price, banana price, and the sound of the waves crashing.

I did take advantage of this world-class dive site. Since I have never been diving anywhere except Square Lake, MN I didn’t really know what to expect. Well expect the amazing, that’s what Tofo has to offer. I did one dive, 17m down and saw more fish then I can even remember. We saw large blue starfish, tons of coral, crabs, and an octopus that was camouflaging itself on the ocean floor. Since it was my first dive it seems like a big blur now but it was awesome and the staff at Tofo Scuba are amazing! I had my own personal dive master with me at all times, and he could have been Ashton Kutcher’s Belgium Twin, which didn’t hurt.

I also went on an ocean safari. Here you go out for two hours and hope to be able to jump and swim with something cool. Well I did get to swim with something really cool! About 10 min. after setting out we got to jump in and swim with two Whale Sharks! They were feeding on a plume of sardines and we circled around each other for about 15 minutes. It was one of the most amazing experiences. Whale sharks are the largest fish in the ocean. They are sharks but because of their size and the fact that they are filter feeders they are called whale sharks. They are giant, probably 20 feet long. Their mouths alone can be 4 feet wide. While it was so cool to be so close to them, when they turn towards you with their mouth open its really freaky. They are harmless to humans but my heart raced a few times when I felt a little too close for comfort. We didn’t get to jump in again but we did have bottle-nosed and humpbacked dolphins swim near our boat.

When not enjoying the scenery below the ocean surface I was relaxing on the beach. Spreading my toes out in the white sand, body surfing the waves, and just enjoying the beauty that is Mozambique. We met a lot of locals who sell their wares to you on the beach. Living in Swaziland makes you feel more like a local then a visitor so it was fun to just sit and talk with them. They are so nice and I got a lot of sweet souvenirs out of the deal. Seriously I bought way to many bracelets.

Overall Mozambique is truly a place worth visiting. Totally underestimated by the American perspective. It’s a hidden treasure only know to those true travelers willing to venture slightly off the map. And it has the Indian Ocean!! How exotic!

December 6th, 2011

So I met my host brother yesterday as he came home on break from University. He is attending a Uni in South Africa learning to be an electrician. His name is Sifiso but everyone calls him stixs because he is super tall and skinny.

Anyways, the first question he asked me was… wait for it… I literally just stared at him in disbelief at this question… he asked me “Do you know the Free Masons and their plot to form a new world order.”

I was like come again thinking I was hearing him wrong. We were chatting about music and then he through this question out of nowhere. No I heard him right, I am half way around the world and here my host brother wants to talk about freemasonry. I guess I have Jay-Z to thank for this inquiry since he apparently has some clips talking about the theory that the illuminati and the Free Masons are in cahoots to take over the world and “do evil” as my host brother says it.

After my sudden shock and initial statement of “no I don’t know what you are referring to” because I was still processing that I actually understood him correctly, I had to make a quick decision how to deal with this question. I could immediately tell him that several men in my family are Free Masons and really freak him out, which I secretly would have gotten joy out of, but no if God insists that I have the “No Freemasonry is not evil” conversation once again then so be it. But really God? I am on vacation from real life.

So I launched into a very abbreviated and simple explanation that its just a theory. I know he wasn’t trying to attack me since how could he possible know that I am connected to Freemasonry, so I had to make sure not to get defensive in my explanation. I explained that masonry was in fact started as a form of support for stonemasons, and then transformed into a social fraternity for men and their families that is deeply rooted in the ideals of brotherhood, charity, and honor. I told him that I actually knew members of the Freemasons and as far as I’m aware they are not working towards a new world order. I explained that yes they have “secret” meetings that only members are allowed to attend but that is no different then meetings most governments have. I also explained the illuminati connection and the theory that people have used Freemasonry and its prominent place in society, historically connected with the elite, to get ahead or perhaps to accomplish something that does not have the best interest of society in mind (also no different then many governments, but just because a government is corrupt does it mean all its citizens are equally as corrupt?). Looks like that final paper on Freemasonry to earn my History degree paid off. Who would have thought that it would come in handy in Africa?

The convo ended with my host brother saying, “Well then I guess we are just miss-informed.” Just like that conversation over. I expected a rebuttal towards the contrary or a multitude of questions that this conversation usually stimulates, but no. Either I had confused him completely, scared him with my intimate knowledge of the topic, or he simply doesn’t care that much. Whichever way, that was that. Then we got back to talking about music for the rest of the afternoon.

December 5th, 2011

What’s a grub? This is a grub:

If you’re going to stick with us kid, you’re going to have to eat like us! Bottoms up!

Guess what was for dinner tonight on the homestead? Yep grub.

Its caterpillar season here and the marula trees are swarming with these large, squishy, hairy caterpillars that are a “good source of protein.” You collect a whole bucket then either boil them or braai them. We had braaied caterpillars tonight and they actually tasted ok. They had the grill smoked taste mixed with a real earthy taste. Not squishy, not slimy, not even hairy in texture. Before indulging, I asked what they taste like and everyone told me it just taste like inyama, like meat. And well it did, like a little caterpillar jerky. Now I didn’t get carried away and eat a whole one bunch, just a few sections that my host mom ripped off for me. She said the boiled ones are “much more delicious” so I will have to try them.

December 1st, 2011

To celebrate World AIDS Day (December 1st), Addy and I held our last Health Club meeting for the year on November 30th (The school year ended this week and summer vacation will go until end of January). School was not actually in session that day but we met with six members of our Health Club and had a poster making party. Each member created their-own slogan about HIV prevention and designed a poster. They were very creative and come up with some great posters to decorate our meeting room.

Addy was offered a great opportunity for a University professor from the University of Swaziland to come and film our Health Club. He is a Fulbright Scholar from America who is teaching a film class at the university. He is putting together a documentary on how people in Africa are promoting HIV prevention. He asked to film our Health Club and will be coming early December.

We spent the rest of our meeting (which, ended up being 5 hours long) preparing a drama (a skit) to perform for the filming; the drama is about the importance of being faithful and not having multiple concurrent partners. In a traditional polygamist society, like Swaziland, having multiple partners at once is what makes a “real” man, its one of the hardest behavior changes to overcome here.

We asked the students if they also wanted to sing a song for the filming and out of nowhere they composed one about protecting yourself by wearing a condom. The main chorus says “uvikela ngecondom,” which means protect your self, with a condom. It was fantastic and then they decided that they wanted to each say their slogan they had created for their posters within the song. I was soooo impressed and proud of them. I took a video of them practicing because its so great and uploaded it for all of you to hear.

HAPPY WORLD AIDS DAY!!

November 27th, 2011

As many of you saw on my Facebook status that I found my first scorpion in my hut. I actually new it was there, but didn’t know what it was, and cohabitated with it for about an hour. It wasn’t until I was shaking out my pajamas (as I was instructed to do after a safety session at IST) that I decided to really find out what was in the middle of my floor. It was then I realized it was a tiny, orange scorpion (public thought is the smaller the more poisonous, but I don’t know how true that is). I think it had fallen from my roof because it had a spider web stuck to it. It hit it with some cardboard and it took off. Those suckers are fast. I threw the cardboard on top of it and it thankfully stopped. Then I calmly swept it out my door into the night. I didn’t even have to have my host dad come and deal with it. How’s that for integrating? My host mom said she found a really big one in her house last week. Uhg, I hope that’s the only one I have to deal with. A fellow PCV was stung by one a few weeks ago and her foot swelled up twice its size but she is fine now. Still I don’t care to find out first hand what a scorpion sting feels like.

This same day I was also informed that a snake killed the female turkey on my homestead. No one saw it but they found her dead in the field as if she died mid-run. She was nesting so my host mom had to transfer her eggs to a chicken to sit on. We have dozens and dozens of baby chicks right now. More chicken = more snakes. But we finished plowing our fields and they say that helps keep snakes away because they prefer living in bushes and vegetation. We are advised to keep chickens away from our huts and many of my fellow volunteers warned me to keep Penny out of my house. I told them not to worry; she has her own house. She really does and she insists on sleeping on a bed. I have started calling her Princess Penny.

Here is a rundown on all the wonderful snakes here in Swaziland:

Black Mamba (imamba): grey body, black mouth, lifts head and hisses before striking, poisonous.Green Mamba: green body, long and slender, likes orange trees and humidity, poisonous.Puff Adder (Libululu): short and fat, rough scales, triangle shaped head, strikes in S position, poisonous. Gabbon Adder: diamond shaped head, has long fangs and clings to bite, poisonous.Spitting Cobra (Phemphetfwane): brown with black-scaled edges, spits in a circular motion without raising its head, poisonous.Python (inhlatfu): Can get to 6 meters long, coils and squeezes pray to death, not poisonous.Boomslang (lidloti): green body, long and slender, very large eyes, very poisonous – you’re dead in 24 hours.

Who is coming to visit now?

Swazis when they see a snake they decide that it must be killed rather then back away from it as us PCVs are instructed to do. Their method of killing is the classic stick or stone beating. Imagine throwing rocks at a very poisonous and now very angry snake hoping that it will die before it bites you. Doesn’t make much sense but hey what do I know; all MN has had to offer me in 24 years was a Garter snake.

November 24th, 2011

This year I am Thankful for the U.S. Ambassador to Swaziland.

For the third year in a row, he invited the entire American community to his house for Thanksgiving dinner. There were around 100 people there: the entire Embassy staff, their families, the PCVs and PC Staff, American students attending Waterford High School (one of the most prestigious High Schools in Africa), and Fulbright scholars.

It was so nice. We had a real Thanksgiving meal with turkey and mash potatoes and pie. It really felt like Thanksgiving even though we are half way around the world.

It also helped that Mbabane decided to throw us some fall like weather and gave us a cool, crisp day. From what I hear between your warm Thanksgiving and my cold Thanksgiving we may have had the same temperature.

I of course I fell into a turkey coma once we got back to our training center and the poor kitchen staff had to store dinner in the fridge because none of us could possible eat another meal.

It was sad to be away from family this Thanksgiving but my Peace Corps family was great company!!

No Black Friday however… oh shem (a siSwati word pronounced shame and used as many forms of expression like wow, whoa, no way, really, too bad).

November 19th-25th, 2011

IST marks the end of our three-month integration period. The mighty fine group 9 gathered in Mbabane for a grueling 5-day training session. We debriefed our first three-months, learned how to apply for funding, practiced filing out our trimester reports, and met representatives from local NGOs and government organizations that can assist us on our future projects. We had sessions from 8:00am to 5:00 or 6:00pm most days, which is a much more intense schedule then I am used to. After the first day I couldn’t even sleep because my brain was so energized. I had had more brain activity that day then I think I’ve had in three months. The last two and a half days was an all-volunteer conference with Group 8 and Group 7 extenders. We elected our members of PSN (Peer Support Network – who you call when having a break-down), VAC (our official group reps to the office), and Sojo (our newspaper editors).

Honestly, the best part of the whole thing was… the showers. We stayed in a dorm like hall but I felt like I was in a palace. The showerhead is situated at my shoulders and the warm water was either scolding or freezing but once you got the temp figured out it was the best shower of my life. After three months in the field I have come to appreciate the shower as one of man’s best inventions. It also helps that Mbabane is in the Highveld, which is much cooler then Malindza, so I wasn’t sweating all the time. I could shower and feel clean all day, it was amazing.

The second best thing about IST is that I didn’t have to cook one meal or wash one dish. I gained at least 5 lbs because I was eating three very full meals and sitting all day. My host sisi even said I looked as of I’ve gained weight and I couldn’t even be offended because I new it was true. However, it was weight gained in a state of bliss because I know it will be another 4 months before I can overindulge like this again. No OCB or Chinese Lunch Buffet to fatten up on here.

The third best part of IST was the social life. It was so great to see all the volunteers again. It felt like being at college again and I loved every minute of it. We had late night movie parties, went out dancing one night, celebrated a birthday by seeing how many adults we could fit into a 15-passenger van (its 30 by the way), and just socialized like old friends. We are old friends by now in our sixth month here in Swaziland. Hard to believe it been half a year already, it really does go by fast.

Overall it was a great week. It was a much-needed break from village life and refueled me to continue with my work in my community and gave me the tools to start new projects.

Snap Moment (when I give myself snaps for getting something accomplished): Malindza High School (where I have my Health Club) had applied to participate in a Peace Corps and Books for Africa sponsored library project. Addy and I found out at IST that the High School was selected as one of the participants, so we will be getting a shipment of 1,500 books next spring (your spring, my fall) to supplement the library and our librarian will get some further training. It is all very exciting.

November 14th, 2011

Today Addy and I went to the refugee Camp Clinic. At the end of the day we met the head nurse’s sister who teaches at a nearby school. She said something about a cable breaking and said a lady got hurt. I didn’t ask any questions, it only seemed like she was sharing the daily news.

She gave me a ride to the bus stop and when we approached the police had closed the road off. I saw the cable she had referenced laying across the road so the police had stopped cars from driving over it. I went around to one of the road blocks to try and get across to the bus stop. My around, however, was actually through and I quickly realized that I was in the middle of the scene that ran off to the side. The first thing someone said to me once I joined the crowd that had gathered was “she’s dead now.” He pointed to the lady whom I had just walked by.

It was an electricity cable that snapped and hit her when it fell to the ground. She was electrocuted. I don’t know how long it happened when I walked by but she was just laying there. Not covered, not roped off, just there in the position she died in, shopping bags and purse still in hand.

How did this happen? Had she just come from town and stopped to rest from the heat? Was she waiting for someone? Does she live here in my community? Is she one of the Bomake who sells fruit at the bus stop? Again how did this happen?

I was too shocked to think properly and it felt weird standing and watching so I just got on the bus and left. The police where just surrounding her body with caution tape when I boarded. I went home and told my Make because I still was processing what happened. She said near December every year something bad happens in Mpaka. Mpaka has had a string of bad luck in the last two months, but this scene really shook me up. Death is no stranger to Swaziland, but of all the ways to die here, to be electrocuted simply for sitting in the wrong place at the wrong time, it seems unfair. It could have been anyone sitting there.

Our power was out needless to say and I spent the evening eerily reading by candlelight as a strong wind blew in some very nasty looking clouds. The sky reflected my feelings at that moment; a hazy mix of grey clouds sending an altered brown light across the land as the sun set. It was dark and light at the same time. The wind was powerful but gentle. It was just a weird, somber night.

November 12th, 2011

I disagree. Yes I have my frustrations at the constant begging rather then providing for themselves, or the complaining with no willingness to make change, but I don’t think Swazis are lazy.

They are just hot.

For real, the Spanish think they need a siesta? From 10:00am until the suns goes down is pretty much worthless hours once it is 40°C (that’s over 100°F).

Now that I have had a constant stream of 40 degree days, I get it. The heat makes you lazy, and crabby, and impatient, and tired, and hungry, and thirsty, and it’s too hot to even begin thinking about fixing any of those problems.

Seriously, when the wind feels like someone just opened the door to a sauna, your water is at a degree suitable for a class of tea, and you realize that you haven’t slept in days because your drowning in a pool of our own sweat it makes you just want to give up. You just lay down on the coldest cement you can find, and move as little as possible. At this state your brain can’t even function and proper sentences don’t exist. I believe at one point when describing a fan I bought I said “it work good don’t it.” I knew it was wrong but couldn’t figure out how to make it right. Things that aren’t funny become hilarious, ideas that would never be deemed sane seem plausible, and visions of venti iced chia tea lattes bring real tears to your eyes.

It is at this point in my PC experience that I forget the awesome adventures that I’ve had here and the goals Id like to see accomplished for this community, and I sulk on the fact that I am living in poverty and its f*#$ing hot out.

But then the wind picks up and I notice that it contains a hint of a cold front, and within hours a storm has rolled in. The night gets cooler, the birds seek refuge in my roof, I wrap my sheet around me (its still too hot for a blanket) and I get sent into a much needed slumber by the sound of raindrops; cooled at last until the next heat wave. I wish on the first star I see every night that tomorrow won’t be another hot one.

Follow ups:

Penny my chicken is in her ugly teen-age phase. She thinks she is a human. Just the other day I was sitting eating dinner and she jumped into my lap. Scared the crap out of me but it was kind of endearing.

The King’s men came back through my community and I had to pay them one rand when they came to our homestead. They were much more cordial this time around, probably because it was Sunday and they were sober, but I still would rather they skipped my community next year.

November 7th, 2011

It’s a Swaziland ambulance. I have now taken my first, and second, ambulance rides and I expect many more in the future.

I have gotten permission to work at the refugee camp in my community, which is also the primary medical clinic. Eventually HIV classes and English lessons will be given to residents of the camp but to start Addy and I are volunteering at the clinic one day a week.

Today was our first day and it was super busy. No appointment necessary and the line wrapped around the waiting room and went outside. We have been visiting another local clinic (it’s a 3 mile walk away) that is very, very small, and while they are willing to have us, really have no place for us. The refugee camp clinic is much bigger. Today we helped out in the “pharmacy.” We counted out pills, filled liquid medicine bottles, and ointment containers. The clinic is always very busy on Mondays and the medications go fast so they really needed us there to fill them up. It was really nice to have some mundane work to do for an entire day. Most days we have to literally create work for ourselves so it was a pleasant change to actually be told what to do.

At the end of the day we said our goodbyes and headed out on our walk home, when one of the nurses asked, “You don’t want to ride with us?” We looked at her puzzled and she points to a van and says, “We take the ambulance.” We never turn down a free ride so we hopped in and sat on the gurney in the back. Aside from the gurney and an IV drip thingy I didn’t see any life saving tools. But it does have a cool red flashing light on top. I imagine it would be comparable to a 1940’s ambulance. The whole clinic is very mid-20th century in looks. Either way the ride saved me a 20-minute walk, and it actually picked Addy and I up a pervious day when it was really rainy and muddy, so in its own way it’s a lifesaver!!

November 5th, 2011

Incwala is one of Swaziland’s National Holidays. It is meant to unite the country in entering a new year with joy. It is divided into seven stages. The first of which is Bemanti or Water Party. This stage requires all the King’s men, or emajaha, to assemble at the royal residence. The emajaha regiment is made up of men from the King’s family and men from the families of his wives. The men are divided into two groups that go to collect water for the ceremonies. One groups collects from the Indian Ocean, and the other from nearby rivers. After a certain cow is slaughtered and the men are given instructions from the King, they leave at night when the moon is dark.

The group sent to fetch from the ocean is then divided into three groups; two of which are sent to the Lubombo region to collect sacred herbs and shrubs used by the elderly during the ceremonies. The third group collects the water from the ocean coast of Mozambique. The route to Mozambique is through the Lubombo region were I live and the road that leads to the border is the road that runs right through my community. Can you see where I am going with this.

The regiment wears traditional attire of emahiya, emajobo (an animal pelt warn over their emahiya like a loincloth, and a crown of Baboon skin. They sleep at the imphakatsi (place of community governments) as they travel.

Today the regiment rolled into my community. They arrived by truck but then got out and ran forcefully into the umphakatsi where they will be spending the night. All community meetings were canceled and a cow was slaughtered this morning to offer to the men.

These being the King’s men, they have the right to fine community members if they are not dressed appropriately. This means that men must wear pants not shorts, women must wear long dresses, and married women must cover their heads and wear a lihiya over their skirt. No nail polish can be worn and shoes must be close toed. While I’m not married I wore a headscarf just to avoid a fine. It’s not much, 50 cents, 1 rand, but I didn’t want the confrontation or the harassment, which is much worse. I did witness some of these fines as the men hung around my community all day and had to stand there and watch my host sisi cry because of their harassment. It was an interesting tradition to observe.

October 30th, 2011

I woke up today with no intentions of doing anything productive. I was coming out of homesickness funk and felt like wasting the day away being unproductive, but by 2pm I had somehow channeled Tim Allen and completed three home improvement jobs.

What sparked the productivity was the much-needed prevention of bugs getting into my hut. With the recent rainstorms we have also gotten a fresh batch of creepy crawlers and flyers that like finding refuge in my house. I decided to finish an already started project of putting screen up on my windows so the bugs don’t get in. PC gave us old mosquito nets to cut up and use as screens. I bought some Velcro in town and super glued one side of it to my window frame and then the other side to the net. Takes a while, but now I have one window that I can have open and not have to worry about what may be getting in.

I needed something to stand on to finish the window project so my host sisi (Nosipho) and I went to borrow the ladder from a neighbor. On the walked I discovered what are. They are biting ants. Of course no one warned me until I found myself hopping as my feet began to burn. I looked down to find them covered in ants. I was instructed to stomp to shake them off, not to kill them. You cant kill them because once one gets killed the rest freak out and attack even more. It was awful. I really almost cried and vowed never to leave my hut again. Since I was half way to the ladder I sucked it up and marched like a continental soldier the rest of the way. Oh but you better believe I gave those ants the death stare all the way.

I somehow managed to still be productive after the ant battle and once finished with the window I moved onto the unfinished paint job. With the ladder I was able to get my last wall painted with just enough paint, not a drop to spare. Once the wall was dry and I had cooked lunch for Nosipho and I, she decided to hang around and help me construct a closet. I have a spare broom that I disconnected the handle to use as a closet poll. Nosipho climbed up to the rafters in my hut to suspend the pole with rope and boom I had a closet. I then, finally after almost 5 months, unpacked my suitcases!! You could say I have officially moved in to Swaziland and it feels great! I am almost ready for my hut warming party.

Enjoying my new closet!

October 29th, 2011

Being a Saturday, Addy and I went to the KaGogo Center. Our Community government meets on Saturday so we go and sometimes sit in on meetings and sometimes just sit in our “office” and talk to people who visit us. We are present more for exposure then to actually accomplish anything. And today was fairly standard until we herd a band. Seeing one marching band in Africa was exciting but now to hear a second in two weeks, we had to investigate. We walked outside the royal kraal to find another parade marching in.

Turns out the final game of the Langa Bricks Football (soccer) League was going on at the local soccer pitch. I didn’t even know we had a soccer pitch let alone a league that would require a final game. We were invited to watch so we went. The field is about a 25 minutes walk back (I can’t describe the direction better then that, its just back from the main road). We walked through the old coalmine housing complexes, which now stand semi occupied and very deteriorated. It had the eeriness of a ghost town, holding lots of secrets within abandoned buildings. Just past the complex we found not just a soccer pitch, but also a whole “stadium.” There is a set of stands to sit in and we snagged some fount row seats. The entire sidelines were also filled with fans sitting on the ground.

My favorite student Noah found us and sat with us. There was some pre-game entertainment provided by a local group that dresses and sings traditional Swazi songs. Noah translated for us and my favorite song is one called “Ufunani?” It is about a man who is asking his wife who cheated on him, “what do you want, wife, what?” It’s real catchy and gets stuck in my head. A close second favorite was one about, as Noah translates, “Stepmothers. You know how sometimes stepmothers smother their stepchildren.”

Anyways the marching band then led in the teams: Liverpool (orange) vs. Bhelebani (green). I was wearing a green skirt so I chose to support Bhelebani with Noah. Addy chose to support Liverpool for added drama and her and Noah bet that who’s ever team loses they have to sing a song in front of Health Club next week.

It was an intense game. The community Chief showed up in the second half, at which point I realized that he was the person who gave Addy and I a ride to school last week. I guess I have officially met the chief. An announcer also showed up for the last half hour of play and ironically the only part of his commentating that I understood was when he said, “I don’t speak siSwati well.” Apparently he is from Ghana. However, he commentated without fail until Bhelebani claimed victory with a 2-1 win for the trophy.

The game lasted about 2.5 hours due to that fact that every time the ball went out of bounds it usually flew down a hill and into the African bush. It took some time retrieving as most African bushes have thorns. Then we sat for another 2 hours for the presentations. Everyone and their mother gave speeches and then each team in the league was given money, and then finally the medals and trophy were given. It was really hot and Addy and I near lost our minds. At one point we were both clutching our stomachs and wiping our eyes with tear inducing laugher over a poor translation that sounded real dirty in English. At one point we even met the chief’s young son who was introduced to us as “Kato, like John Kate.” In our dreary sun soaked mental state the only logical explanation of this was that they were referring to Jon and Kate Plus Eight (they get a fair share of American TV Shows so it was completely logical). Out of curiosity we asked if our assumption was right and we got a confused look and a response of “No, his name is Johnkate, Kato for short” (no idea how to spell it but that is how it sounded). This of course sent us into another fit of uncontrollable laughter.

We finally left just in time to get home before dark, singing unfunani all the way home.

October 21st, 2011

Black magic, or as its locally called muthi (moo-tee), is much to all Swazis dismay present here in Swaziland.

Of course no one has seen it but its here and is to blame for many trouble, like the current drought. When having a conversation about this with a neighbor I smiled and told him to do a rain dance to call the rains. He just stared at me and didn’t think my idea so funny. Muthi is no laughing matter of course. He then went on to explain that a witch doctor could even make lightening strike a person if he/she or someone else asked them to. Swaziland does have a high rate of human lightening strikes so maybe my neighbor has a point. He asked if there was white magic.

I took this opportunity to explain the Salem Witch Trials and introduce the great American holiday Halloween. I was having a hard time explaining this to other people but I finally figured out what to call it: A night of Muthi. I explained we dress up in disguises to hide from the magic and children take the chance to collect treats rather then tricks, and we carve faces into pumpkins to scare off the evil spirits of the night. Explaining it from the perspective of Swazi culture makes the whole holiday sounds bonkers, but I have never had a more superstitious desire to scare away evil spirits then I do here. It must be all the muthi hanging about or the fact that the darkness of night is a really scary thing here. Did I mention I live next to a graveyard? Anyone up for an séance this Halloween?

It has been brought to my attention that perhaps you (the readers) don’t actually live here in Africa with me hahaha. I of course know that but forget that some everyday things here that I don’t think to explain need explaining for you back home. So here are some basics to living Eswatini (in Swaziland).

Lets start with basic ammentaties. I live in a hexagon shaped hut (that means it has 6 sides). It is approximately 10 of my normal walking steps wide. It is made out of cinderblocks and cement. The outside walls are painted cream except for a foot at the bottom, which is painted brown to show less dirt. It is raised off the ground enough so I have to walk up two steps to enter. It has a tin spirred roof. There is no ceiling between the tin roof and the hut space so it makes the inside feel really big because the spire is really tall. If that wasn’t an adequate description see the photo below for a visual. Inside I have a tile floor. Typical flooring is just cement but my family went the extra mile and had tile lain on top of the cement. It makes my hut classy! It has three windows so it’s bright and airy! I have a real bed. It’s about college dorm quality but its real and I bought fun sheets for it.

My toilet is a pit latrine across the homestead. It is a cinder block structure with a raised plastic toilet seat over a large hole. It has a door with a piece of wire that you wrap around a nail to lock it while inside. When it is windy there is a breeze that gives a whole new meaning to air-drying. My shower is a bucket that I awkwardly wash my body in. I have many methods as to this and depending on if I’m washing my hair my bucket bathing style changes. However I have gotten it down to only having to use approximately half a small bucket of water to wash with. I get my water from an outside tap on my homestead. I fill up two 25-liter buckets every few days and lug them the 40ft to my hut but I don’t have to get it from a river so I am really thankful!! Once I get my water I boil it, filter it, and then bleach it before I drink it. Peace Corps gave me a water filter that can hold quite a bit so I can treat a lot of water at a time and continuously keep up with it so its not such a chore.

I do have electricity (my original site that I was in for a month did not so sorry for the confusion)!! My hut has one light bulb inside and an outlet so I can charge my computer, camera, and cell phone. Peace Corps requires us to have a cell phone for security reasons and my cell phone here gets internet! You have to pay for it so I only use it for facebook, which is basically free. I can’t see photos on my facebook however because the price depends on how much info is downloaded and pics are really large so I have the photos turned off. Having my computer is a blessing. I have peace corps reports to write so it helps with that and I pre-write my blog post so I just have to upload them as to not waste internet time once I get to internet. I get to internet about every two weeks. I also store my photos on the comp so that’s nice and other PCVs brought tons of media that I have loaded onto my external hardrive. I have had up to 10 people on my homestead crowd around my laptop for a Saturday night movie party. Very fun! I do pay my family each month for electricity use and water, since they have to pay for both monthly.

Grocery shopping is done mostly in Manzini (largest “city” near me) since they have full grocery stores with the most variety. However I can get very basic stuff at my local corner store but its much more expensive. The next community over has a decent small grocery store that you can get all the basics at more normal prices. I go major grocery shopping every two-three weeks and supplement produce in between. There are local produce stands run by women in my community and my family has a large garden that I can get produce from. My family has a small refrigerator that they let me store some things in like cheese when I splurge to buy (its expensive for not a lot of product). Things do go bad fast here when it’s hot so I have to really plan my meals out. If I have leftovers, will they go bad before my next meal or not?

Laundry… there is a poster in the room at the high school that we hold our health club in that says, “Expose all your dirty laundry.” It’s a poster to promote people to report sexual abuse within the family. However, all my laundry that is dirty does get exposed as I do it outside for all to see. On Average laundry takes me 3 hours. It’s all done by hand in my trusty green bucket, which is none other then my bath bucket. It’s a very multi-functional bucket. Here is how laundry is done. You soak your clothes in powdered laundry soap appropriately branded ‘Sunlight’ and then suds up each garment with green bar. I have no idea what green bar is but its looks exactly like it sounds… a green bar of soap. You buy and 1.5ft pieces and then just cut off chucks when needed; it’s amazing and gets very dirty clothes clean. Each piece of laundry gets smothered in green bar and then hand scrubbed. Then they each get rinsed twice unless you choose to use fabric softener then they get soaked in that after the 2nd rinse and then hung on the clothesline to dry.

I hope this helps paint a picture of life here. The way everything has become familiar leaves me overlooking how unfamiliar they once were. I am slowly forgetting how convenient things were back home as the time goes on. I don’t know if that means that things are getting easier here or if I’ve just integrated that far that the inconvenience is no longer shocking. I’ve stopped thinking how much easier tasks would be in the US and just do them as if that’s the way its been done forever. Surprising how a forever can be created in just 4.5 months.

October 15th, 2011

Today the Malindza community police joined together with the Royal Swaziland Police (RSP) and held a crime prevention campaign in my community.

The event took weeks and weeks of planning and was postponed twice but finally came together on this hot Saturday. The campaign kick started with a march from Mpaka to the royal kraal in Malindza. I joined in here and marched with the RSP and the rest of the community. I even got there early so I got a great t-shirt that proves that I like to prevent crime. We marched down the main road surprisingly led by the RSP band and the Malindza High School drill team. I didn’t know what to expect but a marching band was not on my list of possibilities. It was a legit parade. The RSP blocked traffic while we marched and school groups sang songs while holding news headlines that warned against drunk driving (or drink driving as its called here) and speeding. No one lined the streets waiting for emasweeties (candy) to be thrown but neighbors did wave us on as we passed their homesteads.

We eventually made it to the Royal Kraal where large event tents had been set up. The community assembled into seats and the real fun began. For the next 4 hours there was an array of entertainment. It was like the community found its spotlight and was not letting it fade until it had proven what it could do. It pulled out all the stops. Full sound system, live entertainment, and charity giveaways, the whole works. The drill teams performed routines. The school kids did some dramas (skits) about crime prevention. Boys from the Mpaka schools displayed some high kick routines (traditional Swazi dances) that were led by the hypnotic beat of the drums. This was my favorite part by far. These dances are super impressive. There was even a boy, I would guess around the age of 7, who did a solo and the crowd just roared with joy. I was sitting behind a group of Gogos (grandmothers) who were having the time of their lives watching. They were loving the dances and wailing with excitement. The RSP band played a few pieces and a gospel group, dressed in shiny pleather suits, got the crowd moving with their upbeat songs of worship. Several families living in poverty in the community were also given clothes, food, and bedding. I am not sure who sponsored this but the families were really happy.

Swazi’s are so funny. When they really liked a performance they would get out of their seats, dance up to the performers and throw down money. Each time this was done the crowd went wild cheering on the giver. It was really uplifting to see the whole community come together and be excited about something. Life was present here. The old, the young, and everyone in between were out celebrating. It was like a town festival, all we needed was a corn dog. And just when you thought the fun was over a giant rope was brought out and guess what they did with it… they played tug-of-war. No joke; RSP vs. Community Police. RSP won in a best out of three pull.

The RSP then fed everyone afterwards. It was such a fun day and made me realize that this community can come together to get something done. You just have to spark that fire. Now how to spark that fire on one of my projects?

Like I mentioned in an earlier blog post, there are many OVCs around my homestead. OVC stands for Orphan and Vulnerable Children. This can mean that they are orphan by one or both parents, living in extreme poverty, and vulnerable to the harsh side of life. Some are living with 10 of their siblings and cousins and being raised just by their elderly grandparent because its all they have left.

My family has created sort of a refuge for some of these boys. They come to eat and some sleep on the homestead on weekends and school breaks. Behind every door I find beds and I am beginning to realize just how many of them are living here on and off. I am starting to recognize them but I am still working on names. They play soccer outside my hut and we are still kind of shy with each other but through simple greetings we are getting better acquainted.

My favorite boy is named Wiseman, literally that is his name. He is about 13 and everyone fondly calls him Bebeba (baybaya). Whenever they yell for him is sounds like “hey Bebe” and I am reminded of that song that was uber popular about 4 years ago that goes “Hey Babe, hey Babe.” I sing it to him whenever I see him now. He has seen me struggle to haul my 25 liter barrels of water across the homestead and decided that he wants to help me because he can tell it’s hard for me. Haha it is hard for me and I appreciate his help a lot.

Last night there was a soccer game on TV, Pirates vs. Sundowns. Like eight boys show up in the doorway wanting to come in and watch. Make (host mom) was adamant that they must bathe first after having played soccer all day in bare feet. She had to tell them to bathe like 3 times before they went off. As they left she shakes her head and says, “African children always dirty. They hate to bathe, its like they are scared of the water.” I must be an African child. I hate bucket bathing too.

October 12th, 2011

Does anyone know how peanuts grow? I know it seems like a dumb question, but they grow in the ground like potatoes. I learned that here and never before had I asked the question “where do peanuts grow?”

Peanuts are a big part of Swazi cuisine. They roast them for a snack, grind them up and cook it with spinach, and now my host Make makes peanut butter. One day she saw another Make selling homemade PB in town and told me she wanted to learn. I said I could teach her. I really don’t know how since I have never done it, but I know how its done in theory. So we ventured to the local market and bought a 1kg bag of peanuts. Then we roasted them over the fire (my family cooks on an open fire every day but they also have a gas stove and wood burning oven that they use sometimes). After letting them cool we shook the skins off and ground them through a hand grinder. I have never gotten a better ab workout then grinding these peanuts. We accidently over-roasted the peanuts so they ground up very dark, but it just makes roasted peanut butter. Then we added oil, sugar, and salt, and boom we had peanut butter.

We have some things to tweak for the next batch, but we are learning by our mistakes. We ended up with a large peanut butter container amount. This amount cost E40 in the grocery stores and we made the same amount for E20. It’s so economically smart to make it rather then buy it. Most Swazis grow their own peanuts also so its basically free, unless you add in the labor and time cost, but it only took us like 1.5-2 hours and for a stay at home mom why not.

Once we were done my Make was so happy. She had no idea she herself could make peanut butter. She kept saying she was so proud of herself and I said I was proud to! I would never decide one afternoon to just make PB at home in the states, but here it just made sense. Make eventually wants to perfect her recipe and sell it if she can find a market.