October 18, 2012
How do I feel? Someone from home asked me this recently so I thought I would respond. Honestly, recently I’ve been on an emotional rollercoaster. Its been quite odd. One moment I’m happy, the next I could cry. One morning I don’t want to get out of bed, and that afternoon I am happy as a lark because a girl thanked me in private for saying that she was my friend in front of all the other girls.
I terribly miss wearing shorts. Skirts suck sometimes. They are very restricting, and when the wind blows, up they go. Women are not allowed to wear trousers here, one chiefdom even banned it. Sometimes I sneak in a pair of jeans when I go to the capitol city, but even when I do I feel odd. I feel like people are looking at me, judging me for the pants I am wearing. The females I speak to about this tell me not to worry about it, but it is hard not to.
As a women, when I do certain things people get pretty surprised. I built cubbies this week, and even the Swazi male Peace Corps trainers were shocked when they saw it (but also very proud and inspired by my craftsmanship). As an American I shock people with my skills. People are shocked when they find out I can knit, sew, and chop wood. I even carry my own water! They expect me not to be able to cook or clean.
I am lucky to not get haggled for many too often. Some of my friends have complaints of people asking them for money everyday, just because we are white. Although I was stopped once and a mother asked me to pay for her child school fees, and a lot of times am ask to buy people things when I am at the sitolo (shop), I do see myself as lucky for not being harassed as much as I could be.
Speaking of harassing, being a white woman causes me to be harassed. I am constantly asked to be married and to give out my phone number. Even on the days I know my outfit looks ridiculous and I feel that I look terrible, I know I will get hit on. This was proven one morning when I was walking to my PC neighbors house. I looked silly, hiking shoes and a skirt and hat. As I was walking I thought to myself, I bet even when I look bad I will get hit on. Sure enough, within five minutes of this thought I was hit on twice.
These first months are important for relationship building. This is proving to be extremely difficult. Relationships are hard to build when they all seem so superficial. People talk to me because I am white, because I am an American, because they think I will give them something. Teachers ask for things from me (not all, but some). This relationship building will be important so that I can get past this ‘fake’ feeling.
And it ticks me off when people ask me am I homesick. What a strange question to answer, its not really a yes or a no. Of course I am homesick, but I am ok.
I miss taking showers. I do love me a good bucket bath, they are important after a hot, dusty day, but sometimes it feels like such a hassle boiling my water, than mixing it with cooler water, then just bathing in a bucket where half the time my back hurts afterward from being bent. And grocery shopping sucks. Its not too bad going into town (really I’ve just accepted it), but once you buy one thing you than have to carry it around with you the rest of the day, buying everything else you might need, and than take it on the bus. The amount of people and things that fit into these transports! Its not a done deal once you get on the bus either, because once you get to your stop you must maneuver getting yourself and all of your things safely off the bus, and than walk them the rest of the way home.
I have loved bonding with my family, they really take you in as one of their own. My gogo cares for me, and tells me I am one of her children. This was most touching when one day I broke a vase, and when I brought home a new one (scary carrying class on the transport) she looked at me and said, “But why did you do this, you are my child.” And it is great if my makhulu is there when a man is trying to hit on me. When I tell them he is my babe, they turn to him and ask “How much?” This question is relating to how many cows do buy your daughter. Its heart filling when my makhulu says, “Way to many for you,” following it up with, “Plus, you can not buy her, she is not for sale.” My bosisi and bhuti are also becoming more comfortable with me. It is funny, my sisi being her 9 year old self will ask me to help with things. For example, today she said, lets go to the forest and get firewood. I was not doing much so said sure. I had no idea gogo was out there about to carry a huge log back. When I showed up with my sisi to help, my gogo looked a bit shocked (she never would have asked me to help), and than a look of realization came over her face where I could tell it just hit her that probably my sisi just asked me to come help.
Friday, October 19, 2012
(and than there were boobs)
Thursday, October 11.
International Day of the Girl Child
My first event! It was a success. The girls had a blast. I learned a lot and it was quite the experience.
The girls participated in current dances, traditional dances, sang songs, and some even composed their own! We had girls “Parade,” which meant modeling. I was pretty shocked and didn’t expect it when they came out in their outfits. But hey, they sure were proud of being a girl!
Rehearsals this week went well, although tough because of the language barrier. The teachers helped out though. We had two young girls MC the show, and they did a great job. After lunch break we all began getting ready. The teachers, well they were MIA. At first the boys did not want to help, jealous of the girls getting their own day. But after a minute of dislike, they soon were drawing on the chalkboards in support of the girls. All of the students helped set up the school hall, which usually holds Grade 7. The kids and I moved out the desks and they swept. Than the grade 7 boys helped set up the chairs, a very chaotic scene. Here, for assembly, every student carries in their chair. Although hectic, we tried to keep things calm and the boys were a great help as the girls were getting ready. They tried to control the flow of chairs into the hall from the 100+ kids trying to jam them in.
The girls were getting ready and I was helping set up the room. I turned, and, not expecting it, saw all the 7th grade performers standing there, topless. And than there were boobs. I should have expected it. These girls were doing the traditional Reed Dance, and so of course were dressed traditionally, meaning no tops. But hey, they wanted to rock it, so rock it! And the judges voted them second place! Just after the sixth graders who also did the Reed Dance.
It is cool how boobs (should say breast, I know, but ‘boobs’ seems like a good word) are so accepted here. What is not as acceptable are thighs, so bye bye shorts and my great looking legs. Skirts aren’t always that bad, but are more restricting! I see breasts all the time, on kumbies with babies getting milked, at school with babies getting milked, out in the day when a woman’s shirt isn’t on correctly and she just doesn’t care. And, in the talent show, of course.
On a different note I have started making my garden.
International Day of the Girl Child
My first event! It was a success. The girls had a blast. I learned a lot and it was quite the experience.
The girls participated in current dances, traditional dances, sang songs, and some even composed their own! We had girls “Parade,” which meant modeling. I was pretty shocked and didn’t expect it when they came out in their outfits. But hey, they sure were proud of being a girl!
Rehearsals this week went well, although tough because of the language barrier. The teachers helped out though. We had two young girls MC the show, and they did a great job. After lunch break we all began getting ready. The teachers, well they were MIA. At first the boys did not want to help, jealous of the girls getting their own day. But after a minute of dislike, they soon were drawing on the chalkboards in support of the girls. All of the students helped set up the school hall, which usually holds Grade 7. The kids and I moved out the desks and they swept. Than the grade 7 boys helped set up the chairs, a very chaotic scene. Here, for assembly, every student carries in their chair. Although hectic, we tried to keep things calm and the boys were a great help as the girls were getting ready. They tried to control the flow of chairs into the hall from the 100+ kids trying to jam them in.
The girls were getting ready and I was helping set up the room. I turned, and, not expecting it, saw all the 7th grade performers standing there, topless. And than there were boobs. I should have expected it. These girls were doing the traditional Reed Dance, and so of course were dressed traditionally, meaning no tops. But hey, they wanted to rock it, so rock it! And the judges voted them second place! Just after the sixth graders who also did the Reed Dance.
It is cool how boobs (should say breast, I know, but ‘boobs’ seems like a good word) are so accepted here. What is not as acceptable are thighs, so bye bye shorts and my great looking legs. Skirts aren’t always that bad, but are more restricting! I see breasts all the time, on kumbies with babies getting milked, at school with babies getting milked, out in the day when a woman’s shirt isn’t on correctly and she just doesn’t care. And, in the talent show, of course.
On a different note I have started making my garden.
No Man Left Behind!
Monday, October 1, 2012
First, let me start out by saying that I have saved this blog entry three different ways, so hopefully there will be no problems this time.
The soundtrack playing in my head these last few days has begun with Passion Pit’s “Moth’s Wings.” Followed by songs performed in Glee. I wish I could remember more, that would have been something really cool to write about..I’ll keep you posted on the soundtrack…Actually, instead, I will just randomly place soundtrack songs into my blog and at the end of the two years we will see how the soundtrack is! I guess officially so far the soundtrack goes like this:
1. Sawubona (a Swazi song)
2. Rent’s “Out Tonight”
3. Passion Pit’s Moth’s Wings
So, news. I have been at site for one whole month. Exciting! And people are actually getting to know me, and not just as ‘the white girl.’ But, I am being seen and having conversations with people, and it is good. The first few weeks I really was a hut-body. I don’t think this got posted because of the mess-ups the last times, but I asked my audience to remember this saying about things in a third world country, “What takes a day will take a week, what takes a week will take a month, and what takes a month will take a year.” Things move slow, and take time. The first three months of this experience is intended for strictly integration, watching how things go, and relationship building. Please remember this about my service! Yet, even though the things I do may seem small (I wont be saving the world) [Side note: I apologize greatly if some of this is repeat, I wrote the last blog twice and it got deleted both times, and some things I really wanted out there, so if it is the second time seeing it, just ignore it. If not, great!], I could inspire a girl to go out for a job when she gets older, and have a man get tested and therefore help him and save some of his future partners. Small things will make a difference J
Transportation time! I think all my complaining about transport here got deleted. Let me recap: Everything is a bit scary and unreliable. Busses break down. Kumbies break down (kumbie, similar to a camp van, hence the song last time). And if there isn’t anything else you can always catch a lift, basically hitchhiking. Transport gets VERY over packed. On busses people stand butt to butt facing windows, with 6 kids to a seat. If you have a child, no matter what age you can bet they are sitting on your lap. Transport comes only a few times a day, hence the packing.
I have two touching transport stories. One day my handigas ran out. My mukhulu’s brother had to go get fertilizer for his garden, and so I was lucky enough (truly lucky) to take the ride and go with him to fill my tank. On the way we dropped off one person at the clinic past the valley (both sides of my town have a valley). There a woman flagged us down to see if we could give her and an older man a ride. Catching a lift seems a bit scary to me, but it really is the way people get around here. Shamus said yes, and the woman called over to the man. The man than hobbled over with his cane, barely able to walk. Who knows how long he would have had to keep standing there in hopes of a different mean of transport, one he probably would have had to of stood on. Swazis care so much about each other, always offering you a cup of tea when you enter their house. If they are cooking they offer you food, even though they have little, they are generous. This mentality must go into the driving too, just help each other out.
My second transport story is this. On Saturday I went into town to do some shopping. I was getting nervous as I waited for an hour and a half for, hopefully, a kumbie. I was nervous because I did not know if anyone around me was waiting for the same town, no one had said my name and said hello (an often occurrence). After this time had passed, I finally turned to someone next to me and asked where they were going. “kmfkmsf” Oh good, same town as me. One woman had nicely from a distance asked me how I was, so I had hoped she knew me. I think I was right. Anyway, the kumbie drove up and we all swarmed to. Quickly! It quickly filled up, and a girl inside with two kids took hold of my bags and told me to climb in. Two men, one old and one middle aged, had let me step in front of them to get into the kumbie before the girl grabbed my things. Than, bam, I had the last seat. I felt awful! The old man was standing outside. I turned to the girl and told her how I felt bad because that man gave up his seat for me. She said no he didn’t, that was my sister’s seat (a girl about 6), we gave you the seat. Her sister and son were now sitting on her lap. I still felt bad. Than the kumbie driver came back and the two men explained how they did not have seats, or so I thought. The backseat had four people in it, the middle two with three people, and my row with three people (plus the two kids). The man in the front seat had a huge box on his lap blocking his view of the street. The kumbie was filled, or so I thought. We would not leave anyone behind! (Here I would like to say that when I was climbing in I offered to squeeze myself as a fourth in the third row, I could see I could fit and that way the old man could have had a seat.) The old man climbed into the third row. At first than another woman climbed in and sat on his lap! That didn’t fit. The other man who let me pass climbed in and stood/hovered/crouched over the old man. Than the second row seat was put down and the woman sat as a fourth. We all fit! I was happy to be in the front with only all of my things piled on top of me. Halfway through the trip, a baby from the back started crying. All I could think was, “There’s a baby back there? Who knew!” In what was a 15 passenger van, we fit 20 adults and 3 children. Unsafe, yes, but I was happy we all had a way home.
The ride got better. When we left we noticed our window was gone, there was tape instead. Driving along the tape got annoying, so the woman sitting next to me ripped it off. Lucky she did! We were almost home and the girl starts speaking to the driver, he says no. That’s when the woman held her son by the hips, pulled down his pants, and the 1 ½ year old just peed right out the (lack of) window! Quite the adventure.
School has begun, now that the teacher strikes and exams are over. I am excited because for “International Day of the Girl Child” we are putting on a talent show. I am hoping girls will sign up.
First, let me start out by saying that I have saved this blog entry three different ways, so hopefully there will be no problems this time.
The soundtrack playing in my head these last few days has begun with Passion Pit’s “Moth’s Wings.” Followed by songs performed in Glee. I wish I could remember more, that would have been something really cool to write about..I’ll keep you posted on the soundtrack…Actually, instead, I will just randomly place soundtrack songs into my blog and at the end of the two years we will see how the soundtrack is! I guess officially so far the soundtrack goes like this:
1. Sawubona (a Swazi song)
2. Rent’s “Out Tonight”
3. Passion Pit’s Moth’s Wings
So, news. I have been at site for one whole month. Exciting! And people are actually getting to know me, and not just as ‘the white girl.’ But, I am being seen and having conversations with people, and it is good. The first few weeks I really was a hut-body. I don’t think this got posted because of the mess-ups the last times, but I asked my audience to remember this saying about things in a third world country, “What takes a day will take a week, what takes a week will take a month, and what takes a month will take a year.” Things move slow, and take time. The first three months of this experience is intended for strictly integration, watching how things go, and relationship building. Please remember this about my service! Yet, even though the things I do may seem small (I wont be saving the world) [Side note: I apologize greatly if some of this is repeat, I wrote the last blog twice and it got deleted both times, and some things I really wanted out there, so if it is the second time seeing it, just ignore it. If not, great!], I could inspire a girl to go out for a job when she gets older, and have a man get tested and therefore help him and save some of his future partners. Small things will make a difference J
Transportation time! I think all my complaining about transport here got deleted. Let me recap: Everything is a bit scary and unreliable. Busses break down. Kumbies break down (kumbie, similar to a camp van, hence the song last time). And if there isn’t anything else you can always catch a lift, basically hitchhiking. Transport gets VERY over packed. On busses people stand butt to butt facing windows, with 6 kids to a seat. If you have a child, no matter what age you can bet they are sitting on your lap. Transport comes only a few times a day, hence the packing.
I have two touching transport stories. One day my handigas ran out. My mukhulu’s brother had to go get fertilizer for his garden, and so I was lucky enough (truly lucky) to take the ride and go with him to fill my tank. On the way we dropped off one person at the clinic past the valley (both sides of my town have a valley). There a woman flagged us down to see if we could give her and an older man a ride. Catching a lift seems a bit scary to me, but it really is the way people get around here. Shamus said yes, and the woman called over to the man. The man than hobbled over with his cane, barely able to walk. Who knows how long he would have had to keep standing there in hopes of a different mean of transport, one he probably would have had to of stood on. Swazis care so much about each other, always offering you a cup of tea when you enter their house. If they are cooking they offer you food, even though they have little, they are generous. This mentality must go into the driving too, just help each other out.
My second transport story is this. On Saturday I went into town to do some shopping. I was getting nervous as I waited for an hour and a half for, hopefully, a kumbie. I was nervous because I did not know if anyone around me was waiting for the same town, no one had said my name and said hello (an often occurrence). After this time had passed, I finally turned to someone next to me and asked where they were going. “kmfkmsf” Oh good, same town as me. One woman had nicely from a distance asked me how I was, so I had hoped she knew me. I think I was right. Anyway, the kumbie drove up and we all swarmed to. Quickly! It quickly filled up, and a girl inside with two kids took hold of my bags and told me to climb in. Two men, one old and one middle aged, had let me step in front of them to get into the kumbie before the girl grabbed my things. Than, bam, I had the last seat. I felt awful! The old man was standing outside. I turned to the girl and told her how I felt bad because that man gave up his seat for me. She said no he didn’t, that was my sister’s seat (a girl about 6), we gave you the seat. Her sister and son were now sitting on her lap. I still felt bad. Than the kumbie driver came back and the two men explained how they did not have seats, or so I thought. The backseat had four people in it, the middle two with three people, and my row with three people (plus the two kids). The man in the front seat had a huge box on his lap blocking his view of the street. The kumbie was filled, or so I thought. We would not leave anyone behind! (Here I would like to say that when I was climbing in I offered to squeeze myself as a fourth in the third row, I could see I could fit and that way the old man could have had a seat.) The old man climbed into the third row. At first than another woman climbed in and sat on his lap! That didn’t fit. The other man who let me pass climbed in and stood/hovered/crouched over the old man. Than the second row seat was put down and the woman sat as a fourth. We all fit! I was happy to be in the front with only all of my things piled on top of me. Halfway through the trip, a baby from the back started crying. All I could think was, “There’s a baby back there? Who knew!” In what was a 15 passenger van, we fit 20 adults and 3 children. Unsafe, yes, but I was happy we all had a way home.
The ride got better. When we left we noticed our window was gone, there was tape instead. Driving along the tape got annoying, so the woman sitting next to me ripped it off. Lucky she did! We were almost home and the girl starts speaking to the driver, he says no. That’s when the woman held her son by the hips, pulled down his pants, and the 1 ½ year old just peed right out the (lack of) window! Quite the adventure.
School has begun, now that the teacher strikes and exams are over. I am excited because for “International Day of the Girl Child” we are putting on a talent show. I am hoping girls will sign up.
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