Evening of Dance Videos: Waterford Kamhlaba 2014

I know that I'm about three months late, but if you are interested, here are a few of the videos of performances from the 2014 "Evening of Dance," at Waterford Kamhlaba, where students perform dances from around the world. Just follow the below links and enjoy!

Indian Dance (choreographed and led by Deepali)

American Dance (choreographed and led by yours truly)

Maldivian Solo (choreographed and performed by Nayifa)

Contemporary Dance (choreographed and led by Sofie)

Contemporary Solo (choreographed and performed by Sofie)

Contemporary Solo (choreographed and performed by Stella)

Hip-Hop (3D, choreographed and led by Fernando)

Tumbling (not sure who was leading this)

Goodbye Dance (performed by the teachers, including MMw's famous solo)

Swaziland, America, and a Boat?

Sometimes I have to pinch myself to remind myself that I don't live in Swaziland anymore. The most difficult part in getting that fact through my head (other than the fact that our hostel family has been scattered across the world) is that my replacement, at least until May, is to go live on a boat (and I'm not exactly sure where after that). I'm so excited about the whole boat thing, but admittedly, this whole affair has got a little bit of the "homeless" vibes to it - but, that's kind of what I signed up for with this whole wandering the world thing :)

Other than that, I have very little to announce, other than that I'm leaving in less than a month! Until then, you can find me busting my butt working long shifts at Toys R Us. I assure you, spending ten hours at a time in a store filled with colored plastic is not helping with my culture shock on being in America... but I just remind myself - one weekend there paid for my flights within India to be reunited with my other half, and that is definitely worth it :)

Upon Returning to America

A few weeks ago, I read quote along the lines of "the point of travelling is not to be a foreigner in a foreign land, but to return to your homeland as a foreigner." Having returned to America after two years in Swaziland, I assure you, that is very much the case. As such, I would like to describe the top six things which have stood out to me over the past two days as points of major culture shock, which I am currently experiencing in my homeland.

1. TELEVISION: I'm not sure if I got just a little bit too used to SABC (South African Broadcast Company) or Swazi TV, but American broadcast television (we don't have cable or satellite) is just bizarre. Infomercials, the extent of repetitive reality TV... I don't know why it's bizarre, but it just is. I haven't seen the United Auto Insurance commercial in a while, and it freaked me out. In other news, apparently if you have had a bladder sling and it has gone wrong, they want you to call their 800 number... I'm already yearning for the South African commercials.
2. TRAFFIC: In America, it's so much more organized, and somehow that makes it that much scarier. In Swaziland, if they have an intersection, one road will go, and then the other. Here, they've got these massive systems of lights and signals and lanes and turn lanes and straight lanes, so that everyone is still driving all the time. I practically had a panic attack yesterday, half because I'm used to driving on the left and everything is backwards here, and half because there were a million cars going every direction when I thought only one side of the road should be driving!
3. FENCES: There are none here. Anybody who has ever lived practically anywhere in southern Africa will understand how weird it is that there aren't any here. No barbed wire, no Inyatsi Security signs, no nothing. 
4. FOOD: It's not a joke. American food is over-sized, over-processed, and kind of weird. The sugar has all these tiny white grains, compared to the big brown grains from the less-processed sugarcane in Swaziland. The pizzas are massive, maybe three or four times those from SD. Cookies are too perfect, and everything strikes me as just being a little bit not-food-ish. Even the vegetables are weirdly shiny. I scrubbed a pepper for twenty minutes yesterday, and then decided not to eat it, because it was just too polished.
5. AMERICA IS A GHOST TOWN: There are literally no people outside. I know that it's cold, but there's not that much snow, and even when it's pouring rain outside there are people around in Swaziland. Even in summer, people aren't outside here. It's bizarre. It's like the aliens have come and abducted everyone in America except for me... and then I see a car drive by. But still, there's nobody outside here.
6. BOILING WATER: Strangely enough, the electric kettles that we use in Swaziland are faster at boiling water than using the metal kettle and the stove like I do here. My tea takes forever, and I feel impatient. Just so you know that Swaziland is more efficient than America, in at least one area.

And that's my list. There are many more, as I'm sure my mother will tell you... apparently I've been walking around the house like someone who has grown up underground and is seeing the sky for the first time in forever.

Diwali at Waterford UWC

Hello! All right, let me try and get this blog back on track.

In July, my friend from India asked me how to write an event proposal. A few months later, we were shopping for, preparing for, and setting up for a Hindu festival called Diwali, which we were hosting as a cultural event here at school.

First of all, there was the food. Waterford so generously gave us funding for the event, so we were able to make a bit of Indian food for everyone to try. So, all morning was spent in the kitchen, working to make pakuras from chickpea flower, onions, and some spices.

Photo Credit: Deepali Tikone

Then, I left to start working on set-up. It took about eight hours to get all the furniture and equipment moved between buildings and set up properly, and then to set up all the decorations, including many strings of lights and about 200 candles, but in the end, I'm really proud of how it worked out!

Photo credit: Sarah Hahn

We rushed around like chickens with our heads cut off for the entire day, but the event itself was well worth it. We set the limit at 80 people to attend, because of the food and space limitations, and every single ticket that we gave out returned to us with a lovely person, complete in their requisite Indian attire, or at least a valiant attempt at such.

The program for the evening included a dance, a presentation about the history and religious significance of Diwali as the Festival of Lights, an lesson in dance, food tasting, and a fireworks display. For all of you who know Waterford, you might have a small inkling of how proud I am that we got fireworks on the field, smack in the middle of the cricket pitch! The following photos are credit to Kim Sinnige.

I almost had a change of life plans after this event, thinking I wanted to be an event planner or something. Anyways... I really encourage anybody at a UWC (or even another school) where you think you are lacking in cultural events to get up and do one yourself! Diwali here was something really special, and I hope that it's started a tradition in cultural events for years to come. 

Oh, and one massive final thank you to Deepali, my partner in crime in having the idea for, planning for, and getting this whole event to happen. Also, thanks to Nayifa and Sarah for working themselves silly all day setting up and cleaning up, and also to Waterford's administration for being so generous with the funding for this event, so that nobody had to pay anything to get in the door. And thanks to everyone who came and enjoyed!

No Water? No Problem.

We woke up this morning to a campus without water. I kind of paused, and then brushed my teeth with the little bit of water left in my water bottle. I threw on a shirt, and left my room to go to breakfast. This is rather a normal thing here in Swaziland, at least in Term Two, when it stops raining, because that's where we get out water from ("god bless the rains down in Africa...").

But, upon opening my door to the big, wide world, I had to practically climb over the mangled ruins of IB1s who had never dealt with a lack of water before. I could hear screaming, quite a few moans, and one siren wail of "what are we doing to dooooooooooo?" It's like they were incapable of remaining human without instant water.

I'm not sure if I should say I helped or anything, because there's not much you can do (other than wait) when the water stops coming out of the taps at school. So, I went to breakfast, where there was Muesli, which is massively special, and none of the other IB girls got to see, because they didn't dare go out in public without a shower.

I just laughed. Not showering for one day? That's fine. I once spent five days in Malawi without a shower, and that wasn't even considering the cow pie smeared across my back.

Anyways, gotta go do my siSwati prep. Which can also be done without water, no problem. I mean, other than my tears at the fact that it's so much harder to reach the word count in siSwati because words are combined... example: Ngingatijabulisa = I am able to make myself have fun. DO YOU SEE WHAT AN ISSUE WORD COUNT IS?

Performances - Waterford Kamhlaba UWC Day 2014

(Please read the original post about this year's UWC Day here - this post is just some of the videos of performances from the day)

Here are some of the videos of the performances that took place yesterday at UWC Day - some are full performances, and some are just clips. Apologies to Russian Choir, Indian Dancing, Finnish Duet, Zimbabwean Choir, and Zim-Zam-Malawi Dance, which I didn't get the chance to film. Other than that, here they are!

AZONTO DANCE
SOUTH AFRICAN DANCE
GUMBOOT DANCE
MADAGASCAR DANCE
MEN'S VOCAL QUINTET
SWAZI GIRLS DANCE
SWAZI BOYS DANCE

Waterford Kamhlaba - UWC Day 2014

Today was Waterford's annual UWC Day here on campus! So, since we're such a diverse school and everything, a lot of the times we forget exactly how diverse we are. I mean, I sit between a Tanzanian/Rwandan and a Swazi in maths class, and live across the hall from a Zimbabwean, so it's pretty obvious that "diversity" is kind of an everyday thing for us here.

So, once a year, we have UWC Day, which is our big international festival. Oversimplified, we dress up like ridiculous patriots and traditional people from our respective countries and cultures, make lots of traditional food, and then watch each other singing and dancing traditional pieces.

The great question every year is "what do you wear for a national costume if you're _____?" In my case, what the heck was I supposed to wear as an American? Last year, because I did Indian dancing (my lovely Indian friend in the blue above did it again this year), I avoided the question. But, this year, as the Russian choir I was singing in didn't have a set outfit, I was left to dress like an American - here is what I came up with.

Overall, the day was definitely a success. I performed with the Russian choir, and then spent essentially the rest of the day hanging out, watching different performances (I'm going to attempt to post some videos later today), and eating lots of different kinds of food. Some of my favorites were the banana creme pie from the Britain stall, and the burfee from the south Asian stall, and of course, the caterpillars from the Lesotho stall. There was a specific name for the caterpillar, but I was too busy making this face as I ate it to remember...

Let me tell you - that was not a small caterpillar. Strangely enough, once I got over the fact that I had just ingested a two-inch long insect larvae, the taste wasn't all that bad. Kind of spicy, actually.

At the end of the day - I'm tired, thirsty (from eating Zambian salty snacks) and with aching feet, but I'm also smiling and chilling. Just as I think the "UWC Day" is over, my friend from South Africa walks into my room, and I realize that it's not over, at least until we graduate. And then a Zimbabwean comes in and asks if I've seen her phone, and I hear a Tanzanian laughing in the corridor. Thing is, I haven't thought of anyone by their nationality in a long time. I guess it's just today, and tomorrow, I'll forget we're all from different places, and we'll all just go back to complaining about teachers and homework (some things are the same everywhere).

Control Your Husband Using a Remote?

This is a post about the classified ads in Swazi newspapers (The Times of Swaziland, in this case). It's a lovely paper, with questionable credibility, cited sources ranging from "The Google" to "Wikipedia,"  and pictures from stock databases. But, the one thing they do have are the most amazing classifieds - they start rather similarly to newspapers in America. But then, after a few pages, you reach the sangoma (witch doctor) ads. (Sorry to make you turn your head - the internet doesn't like me, and the connection is simply too slow to do anything about the rotation).

 But seriously - this is no joke. You don't mess with the sangomas.

South Africa - Gay Pride 2014

This midterm, I hauled myself 1,700 kilometers across the continent from Swaziland to Cape Town Pride. And while, over the course of five days, I spent a grand total of 60 hours on a bus, and a mere 8 hours asleep in a proper bed, it was totally worth it. No doubts, no questions - it was absolutely, positively fabulous.

Gay Pride is something that happens all around the world, in various countries, albeit at different times of the year. It's a celebration of diversity, and an acceptance for being one's self, and essentially a big party to promote free love in such a world full of hate. While South Africa has a liberal constitution that allows gay marriage, hate crimes still run rampant, and neighboring nations such as Zimbabwe and Swaziland still have extremely anti-gay laws in place.

And yet, thousands upon thousands of people turned up in the street for the parade and festival. I don't know exactly when I realized it, but I found myself very nearly crying at the sheet sight of so many different people all together. I don't even know how to express the feeling of seeing it, especially after having been living in Swaziland for the last year, which is not the nicest place to be queer (I'm technically breaking the law every time I enter the country). And so, after quite a long time in Swaziland now, being a part of Cape Town's Pride literally made my heart swell.

I guess this is the moment that sums it up for me: at one point, this particular drag queen was on stage. Her name is Mary Scary, she's wonderful, and yeah. Anyways, she was up on stage, and she says, "Let me hear you if you've ever been called a dyke! Let me hear you if you've ever been called a faggot!" Hearing the noise that people made after that made my legs practically drop out from under me. Sometimes (that's a lie - most of the time), it's difficult to be proud, faced with so many of the attitudes and discrimination against being queer in Africa. Many times, especially in Swaziland, where essentially nobody else at school is openly gay, it's isolating. Yet, there at Pride, the feeling of being one of a thousand people standing there, all sharing the same struggle, and all making it, despite every attempt made against us - it's more than powerful.

Then, led by the queens, the entire crowd lurched into a roaring rendition of (this one's for you, Ugandan legislators), "F*** YOU! F*** YOU VERY MU-U-UCH!"

I feel like I can't really articulate what this Pride meant. More than the wonderful-ness of seeing drag shows, more than the freedom of gay bars and clubs, more than the happiness of dancing on a parade float, throwing glitter at angry people watching us from their windows, it was a few days to be really, truly proud. Not necessarily rainbow socks and tiaras "proud" (although that was definitely a thing), but simply PROUD-proud. Proud as in not caring what people thought. Proud as in not worrying about people thinking the whole thing was "too gay." Proud as in showing love.

And while love is not the easiest thing, especially in a place with attitudes that are so filled with hate, love is still love, and that is a beautiful thing.

Superbowl... Monday?

This is going to be a very short post. We spent last night watching the Superbowl, which started at 1:30 am on Monday (today) here because of time differences. Here's a joke: what do you get when you stick a Norwegian, a Bolivian, a Zambian-German, a Dutchman, a Turk, and two American girls in a room to watch the Superbowl?

Cupcakes, because that's what you make at three in the morning when nobody really understands what's happening with the game.

Anyways, I didn't get a single wink of sleep, but it was a wonderful night, and totally worth it. #uwclife.

School in Swaziland

Remember this? Still going on. Thanks!

Today, I was running between classes, studying, getting ready for a physics test, just doing the normal school thing, when I realized... I'm doing the normal school thing in Swaziland. Seeing as how school here has finally become "everyday," I figured it's as good a time as any to write about how school here is different from school in America. I think I did this on the first day of school, but I figure I must have a little bit of a different perspective six months later (hopefully).

SCHEDULE:

First of all, there's the seasonal thing. Schools here run year-round, so we have school from January through April, May off, June and July in school, August off, September through November in school, December off. Keep in mind though, summer is December and January, because it's in the southern hemisphere, so I suppose we do get a bit of summer off. Although, that doesn't help the fact that my Facebook was flooded with "SUMMER" statuses in June, just as I was starting a new term... anyways.

The other thing that goes along with schedules is the lack of bells. Culturally, time is less "of the essence" than it is in America, and so showing up for classes a few minutes (not a lot) late is totally acceptable, whereas in America it's really not acceptable whatsoever. You can see it almost ingrained into the timetable by the fact that there are no passing periods at school here. That doesn't seem so strange at first, but when you have siSwati class that ends at 15h20 (3:20 pm in American time), and French class that then starts exactly at 15h20, being late isn't really an option. Add into that the fact that teachers, unconcerned with time, rarely start on time, and you've got a school that consistently runs about five minutes late.

Except for the end of the day. The teachers always make sure we get out on time.

CLASSROOMS

The next thing is the classroom block, which was designed by a man from Mozambique. That being said, the building is not well equipped to handle winter (namely, now) on the top of a Swazi mountain. The windows don't really fill the frames - literally, there is a centimeter gap between where the glass ends, and where it should end, if they wanted the glass to fill the window. If a room should be lucky to have a source of heat, it comes in the form of a pipe that runs along one side of the room. The pipe is filled with water, which is heated, which provides heat to anyone who goes over and wraps themselves around the pipe - but nobody else. And to be fair, the pipes are very rarely working. That being said, compared to America, where people wear their coats, boots, and scarves outside, but not during the school day, at school here, you see people bundled up all day long - and rightfully so. Contrary to popular belief in America, Swaziland does indeed get cold. It's not as cold here as it is in the States, but it's inescapable (there is no real heat anywhere), and so it almost feels colder.

As far as the classrooms themselves, they're just much simpler. Classrooms in America have computers, projectors, document cameras, overheads, SmartBoards, and so on. Classrooms here are lucky to have more than one electrical socket. Chalkboards, and in some (fancy) rooms, whiteboards, are still in style here. To be quite honest, I can't decide whether I prefer classrooms with or without technology. I think that on both sides, the teachers have just kind of adapted to use what they have, and it works out.

TEACHERS

To put it bluntly, teachers here take the authoritarian viewpoint of a classroom. "Sir" will get you a very long way. I guess ma'am would too, but my only female teacher is my siSwati teacher, and so we call her "make" (mah-gay). Asking questions in class, an encouraged practice in America, is only "acceptable" here. I can think of one teacher off the top of my head who will stare you down for a solid five seconds, before starting to answer your question.

Oh, and it's not acceptable to call teachers by nicknames of their last names, which is pretty much how we call all of our teachers in America. If I tried to call my geography teacher "Wekky," I think I'd get slapped.

Anyways.

The strange thing is that despite all the pomp and circumstance in the classroom, teachers are much more chilled out with assignments. In America, they rarely accept late work, but here, late work is almost the norm - probably has something to do with the "late" culture.

Other than that, the only difference I can think of is the marked lack of quirky teachers in America. I know that some of my American teachers who like to think of themselves as quirky will be disappointed by this, but they have nothing on the pure weirdness of my teachers here. My physics teacher has the habit of leaving the classroom mid-sentence, going to get something to drink, sometimes changing his clothes, and returning five minutes later. He then picks up exactly where he left off in the sentence, and doesn't even mention the fact that he left. My English teacher regularly makes jokes about things he probably shouldn't make jokes about. My French teacher once walked into class, said simply "J'ai déchiré mes pantalons. Je dois retourner chez moi." (I've ripped my pants. I must go home). He then walked out, and didn't return.

You know, totally normal.

YEAH.

That's all I can think of. School really isn't that different. I mean, we use textbooks in America, and don't really have proper textbooks for most classes here. We have a bell system in America, and class just kind of "starts" here. Teachers in America are chilled about classroom ceremony, and strict about schoolwork, while teachers here are strict about ceremony, but chilled about schoolwork.

The funny thing is, I go to school in Swaziland. And that's normal. And right now, like any teenager in America waiting for summer, I'm in school, waiting for August, which is the term break. Except that instead of working as a camp counselor in my term breaks, I'm going backpacking through six countries in my term break, but more on that in a few weeks...

Hitchhiking and Kumbis in Swaziland

(Unless you're too tired to move the mouse across the screen to do so, please comment/like/watch this video? Thanks! And if you happen to be too tired to move your mouse - go to sleep. The internet will be here when you wake up).

This weekend was midterm, meaning that I stayed at my link grandma’s house instead of at school. Something that always comes up for midterm is transport, so I figured I could describe how I get around Swaziland, as shown through the course of my weekend.

So, I left school Thursday around lunchtime. Waterford is on the top of the mountain, so I just start walking down, with two options in mind: either I walk all the way to the highway entrance ramp and get a kumbi from there, or I get a lift from whatever car passes me on the mountain.

 The first car to pass me pulled over. They were indeed going into town, as everyone is, because there’s nowhere else to go, and so I hopped in. Ten minutes later, she dropped me a few blocks from the bus rank, and I was set. America was never a good hitchhiking place, but hitching rides in Swaziland is pretty beautiful. It’s just so easy – you don’t even have to put your arm up, you just stare down passing cars and they stop.

Anyways, I get to the bus rank, and find a kumbi to Mbuluzi. My link grandma doesn’t live in Mbuluzi, but she lives on the way to Mbuluzi. Kumbis just go between two places, so you just have to know which two places your destination is between. My link grandma’s house happens to be en route from Mbabane to Mbuluzi, and so that’s the kumbi I take. These two “endpoints” are written on the front of the kumbi, so if you’re deaf, that works, but the drivers are also yelling their destinations at the top of your lungs, so it’s hard to miss.

“KAMANZINI! MANZINI MANZINI MANZINI! UYA YINI KAMANZINI?” is probably what you hear the most in the Mbabane bus rank, as Mbabane to Manzini is one of the biggest routes. In other places around Mbabane, such as Lobamba, Pigg’s Peak, or Ezulwini, you oftentimes see kumbis in bus ranks and parking lots, their drivers yelling “MBABANE-MBABANE-MBABANE-MBABANE-MBABANE-MBABANE!” It’s a very distinctly sound, and kind of blends into itself – “BA-BA-NAY-BA-BA-NAY-BA-BA-NAY!”

Anyways, I quickly find my kumbi to Mbuluzi, because, despite contrary belief, the bus rank is also very well organized, and kumbis to the same places always wait in the same area of the bus rank, and the Mbuluzi one is always on this certain side, and, well, it’s easy enough to find. Plus, you hear, “MBULUZI! MBULUZI!”

Now, the kumbi to Mbuluzi goes through Pine Valley, down Pine Valley Road, which is a two lane little road, nice and everything, but windier than anything. It goes up and down, zigzags, and all the rest of it the entire way. The drivers often have a hard time getting the kumbi up one hill or another, so they go hurtling down the down hills, hoping their momentum will bring up the up hills. It’s always an adventure.

Anyways, there’s no action station at my link grandma’s house, but if you want to make it a station (i.e. get off), you just declare “STATION,” or more commonly, “STAYSH,” the kumbi screeches to a halt, you pay your five emalangeni (currently divide by ten to get USD), and get off. Magic – I’m at my link grandma’s house. I doubt that anywhere in America you could get from door-to-door for only fifty cents, unless you lived adjacent to each other.

So, I’m chilling at my link grandma’s house, and that’s all fine and jolly, but I needed to go to Mpaka Refugee Camp on Saturday. Not sure how familiar you are with Swazi geography, but that’s kind of a haul, and I was supposed to be there at nine o’clock in the morning. Let’s just say that I had very little confidence in my ability to be punctual, but I was going to try.

At six-thirty, I was standing on the side of the road in Pine Valley, thumbing for rides. There’s such a thick fog in the mornings that standing on the side of this windy little road that people go zipping down is essentially asking for death, but a kumbi came along soon enough, and I hopped in without any problems. It was definitely an interesting kumbi though – it is indeed wintertime right now, and so there was ice covering all the windows, including the windshield, and they hadn’t bothered to scrape any of it off. The side door kept flying open at inopportune times, and the exhaust pipe could be heard banging on the road as we bumped along. This ride was also a reminder of the fact that kumbis are never full. There were six of us sitting in two seats during this particular ride, and nobody even gave it a second glance.

Anyways, we bump along into town, give the driver our five emalangeni as we get off, and everyone goes off to whatever they’re doing in town, or off to seek their second kumbi. My second kumbi on this grand trek to Mpaka was the famous Mbabane-Manzini route, and so I had no problems finding one. We waited about five minutes for it to fill up, as kumbis won’t leave the bus ranks until they’re full, and then we were off.

The drive to Manzini was pretty chilled. It was a nicer kumbi, and there were only as many people as there were seats, and soon enough, I was in the Manzini bus rank. Now, the Manzini bus rank is much bigger than the Mbabane bus rank, and has a reputation for muggings and the like. On the other hand, I much prefer the Manzini bus rank, as there are lots more people, entertaining things to look at, and louder drivers.

“SITEKI! SITEKI! SITEKI!” And I found my kumbi. Mpaka is in between Manzini (pronounced Man-zee-nee, clearly) and Siteki (pronounced steh, as in electric, and then gee, with a hard g – steh-gee, not so clearly, if you don’t speak siSwati).

Now, the challenge at this point was that I had never before taken a kumbi to Mpaka (pronounced mm-pah-gah – if there’s a k without an h after it, you pronounce it as a g), and as towns are never explicitly labeled, I was a little bit worried that I wouldn’t be able to tell that the cluster of building we went through was Mpaka. Fortunately, we pulled to a stop at one moment, and I say a sign for Mpaka High School, and so I hopped off. Getting off the kumbi, I started to ask another man who had gotten off if he knew which way I should walk from here to get to the refugee camp, but then one of the Peace Corps volunteers who lives at the camp and knows me came up, and asked what in the world I was doing all the way out at the camp. Anyways, I thanked the first man, talked to the Peace Corps guy for a few moments, but he was hopping onto the kumbi I had just left, so he had to go. He pointed me down a long dirt road, with no end in sight, and I started walking.

Let me make this clear – no matter how great kumbis and hitchhiking is, that only works when there are kumbis and cars where you’re going. The biggest mode of transportation in Swaziland is by far your own two feet. So, I made us of them, and walked down this long road, until it ended, and then I turned onto another long, dirt road, until that ended, but by then I knew where I was, as I’ve been to the camp before, and recognized the gate.
As this is getting to be much too long of a post, I’ll skip the bit about what I did at the camp, and save that for later.

My way getting back from Mpaka to Mbabane was much easier. I hitchhiked from the camp to the main road with some random Swazi guy who refused to believe that I wasn’t Peace Corps. He wasn’t headed towards Manzini, so I hopped out and promptly got another ride in another carful of Swazis headed for Manzini. There were two loud, obnoxious guys in the front, and a silent girl in the back next to me who just kept doing her nails. They were all really keen on the fact that I could speak siSwati though, which they alternatively laughed at, and were amazed at.

Anyways, they dropped me in Manzini, and I found my way to the bus rank, which is easy enough – follow the crowds. I jumped on a kumbi from Manzini to Mbabane, and then one in Mbabane back to Mbuluzi. A few minutes down the road, I call out “staysh” and the kumbi pulls to a stop, right in front of my door. I’m never going to get over how convenient this is.

Well, that’s it! Hitchhiking and kumbis is pretty much how everyone gets around in Swaziland, with a lot of walking thrown in there. America complains about greenhouse gas emissions – and then you see hundreds of people driving along, with hitchhiking as a lost art. Sometimes I think that America is more backwards than Swaziland.

Physics: Swazi Style

In Physics class today, we were talking about gravitational fields. For those of you who aren't into physics, the main idea is that every object has a gravitational field, and objects within that field are attracted to it, at least a little bit.

Let me paraphrase the lesson. Now, you have to hear this in the strong Ugandan accent of our wonderful physics teacher:

"Now, if there is a very massive particle, he is like the very powerful chief. A very powerful chief has much influence for the people in his chiefdom. But! If you are what? Far away! Then, you may choose to roam further away from the chief, and then you may choose to do what? Insult him! You may even dare to insult him, without fear of getting forced to go back to the chief to be punished! If you are outside your chief's gravitational field, then you may hurl insult after insult without fear of being hit! Remember though, the king will have a very big gravitational field, so if you want to hurl your insults at the king without being hit, you will have to go where? Far away!"

I mean, I guess the complicated graphics and computer simulations worked for physics classes in America, but here, we operate solely with paper, pencils, a board, and some metaphors about the local chiefs and king. I guess these are the benefits of learning physics in the last absolutely monarchy in the world...

UWC Day at Waterford Kamhlaba

(Open up this video in a new tab, let it play while you read this post, and I will love you. I might even marry you if you "like," the video, comment on it, and send it to some friends! The more audience support it gets, the more likely I'll be to go to India!)

Being at a UWC is a constant culture mish-mash. I oftentimes look around the dinner table and see my friends from Malawi, India, Lesotho, Tanzania, Zimbabwe, Swaziland, Zambia, Uganda, and more, all around one table. I'm currently in a musical with people from Kenya, South Africa, Zimbabwe, Swaziland, Denmark, and so on. My physics teacher is from Uganda, my siSwati teacher is from South Africa (ironically), my geography teacher is from Tanzania, my French teacher is from Cameroon, and so the list goes. That's kind of just how UWC works.

But, once a year, we have what we call "UWC Day," where we have this big festival and performances and parade to share our cultures (and food). (This was before all the South Africa stuff, by the way, I'm just posting it now).

First, there's a bunch of performances outside. There wasn't an America performance, (Next year, I tell you. Next year.) but I did an Indian/Bollywood dance. After a bunch of dances and performances, each country has a stall where they sell food from their country, and we just kind of run around eating food and taking pictures in our national costumes. I just chilled in my Indian dancing outfit, as I didn't really have anything "America" that I was dying to change into.

 

This is the Ethiopia stall, selling their food.

 

Yup! It was a pretty chilled day.

Machetes and Pap

Last weekend, I worked on a community service project removing bugweed from the Malalotja Nature Reserve here in Swaziland. Bugweed is essentially a twenty foot tall stalk, kind of like bamboo, that's from South America, and is invasive to Africa. Mostly, it just sucks out all the water from the ground, which kills the other plants.

So, I was handed a machete (what they called simply a "bush knife") and was told to whack away! It was a really good time - you'd be surprised what good stress relief a machete can be!

As you can see, it was a really rainy day, and we were all definitely soaking wet by the end. Yet, I don't remember the last time I was so sore, wet, cold, and happy all at once. This project was one of my favorite days since getting here :)

Then, last night, my beginner's siSwati class went out to dinner at this Swazi restaurant. The school cafeteria serves Swazi food every Thursday, but it's really not very good, and so to save the reputation of Swazi food, we had to go get some "real" Swazi food. Amazingly, after all my failed attempts at liking the cafeteria's Swazi food, I really, really liked the Swazi food at the restaurant.

Let me describe what we had - I'm sure there are Swazi names for all this stuff, and I'll include the ones I know, and maybe add the rest later. Anyways. I'm starting with the two yellow circles and going clockwise.

1. Sinkhwa nembila (corn bread) - it's not exactly American corn bread, but it's pretty good. Maize bread, I guess they'd say in English here.
2. Umbhidvo (spinach) - it's just finely chopped spinach mixed with some other things. I'm not a huge fan, but I can tell that it's good if you like spinach.
3. Some sort of mashed beans - decent, better if you eat it with the next thing.
4. Corn and beans - Again, I guess they'd call it maize here, but that still sounds strange to me. This one is my favorite thing. I could live off of this stuff - it's so good. It really doesn't taste like anything else in the world, and I can't even describe it properly, but it's so good. So good.
5. Liphalishi (pap) - they take maize, peel earn kernel, and mash up the insides. I would compare it to mashed potatoes, and while it looks similar, it's really not at all the same. It's not rubbery, but it is more rubbery than mashed potatoes. Rubbery probably isn't the best word, but when you squish it, it kind of rebounds back, if that makes any sense. It's really popular here, and admittedly, it's pretty good.

And then for desert, we had fried sinkhwa nembila, carrot cake, ice cream with mint sauce, and chocolate cake. It was actually the best thing ever. After having school food for so long, you really, really appreciate outside food, and when someone gives you unlimited, delicious outside food, you eat. And so we did. It was a really, really nice night with some really awesome people. Definitely looking forward to the rest of these two years of classes with the other "ab swats."

Now, I've just got one more day of classes, and then it's FREEDOM for a month! I've finally got all my plans all hammered out, and I'm ready to go! UWC Day is still Saturday though, so I'll probably post something on here about all that, but then Sunday morning, I'll be leaving on a bus, and exploring for the rest of the month!

We're Gonna Make This Place (Country?) Your Home

Something that has occurred to me in probably the last two or three weeks of being here is that people live here. I know that sounds obvious and silly, but when you go somewhere “exotic,” sometimes the normalcies of everyday life seem like they can’t possibly exist.

I spent Easter break at my link grandma’s house (think house family). The best way I can put it was that it was normal. In a really good way, it was a break from school. No matter how much I love Waterford, it’s full of chaos, and sometimes can get really exhausting. Also, dorm rooms will never be houses, and while dorms are fun, they’re not a “home.” On that side, spending a few days in a “home” was really, really nice. And my link grandma and I get along really well. Sometimes, staying in a host family situation can be awkward, but we just get along really well, and I literally felt entirely at home within four or five hours of being there.

On the other hand, it was bizarre, because I realized that normal things happen when you live somewhere, no matter where. We had to run errands in town, and decide what to cook for dinner, and wash dishes, and lock the doors at night, and feed the dogs, and so on and so forth. After dinner, we watched some program about monkeys on TV, and then read for a while. We walked the dogs. We went to one of her friend’s houses for dinner. It was all fine and well, but I was surprised at how strange it felt to be doing such normal, familiar things in what I had previously considered a really foreign, exotic country. I mean, the country hasn’t changed, but I can’t even imagine myself describing Swaziland as foreign or exotic right now.

Now, the problem with all of this is that it makes me wonder, why in the world did I come to Swaziland anyways? I could be accepted into university already! Why am I here, especially realizing that life here isn’t all that different from life in the States, or life anywhere, for that matter! For a while, I really thought this. But then, I realized that it’s similar only on the superficial level. Sure, dishes need to be washed in America just the same as they do in Swaziland, but they’re washed after a different sort of meal, where there was different conversation, and a different sort of etiquette, as was influenced by a different sort of culture. Sure, some things are the same, but a lot of things are different, and I’m thankful that I get to make the “different” my “everyday.” I spent my morning going to classes, just like I would have done in the States, but then I spent my afternoon teaching computer classes to orphans, tutoring a junior student in French, and presenting about American culture to an audience consisting of people from seven or eight other nations.
I mean, maybe things aren’t that different in some ways, but it’s just lazy to pretend that they’re not that different in all ways, because they are, and if you don’t go somewhere to see the differences, and live with the differences, then something’s missing. I have a hard time articulating exactly why I’m happy with my choice to come to Swaziland, but I am, and now that Swaziland suddenly feels like home, I’m having a very bizarre combination of loving the fact that Swaziland, of all places, is home, and feeling like I want to go on an adventure and get out of Swaziland.

So, guys, newsflash: people actually live in Swaziland. They have normal lives. They do normal things.

So, self, newsflash: I live in Swaziland, and it feels entirely normal and entirely abnormal, all at once. I figure I'll have this sorted out right about the time I graduate and have to leave... figures.

Sifundzani, WWOOF, and Link Families!

(Dear lightning, please stop knocking out the internet randomly. Dear internet, thanks for finally working! Dear readers, this was written Saturday, not today).

Today has been the most absolutely fantastic day ever imaginable!

First, I woke up this morning to go to the Sifundzani High School public speaking competition, which is the only one in Swaziland, which makes it the national competition (I just need to make the comment about Sifundzani – really nice school, but “sifundzani” translates into “what are we studying?” WHICH IS A RIDICULOUS NAME FOR A SCHOOL).

Anyways, the way that speech tournaments work here in Swaziland is that everyone gives a five minute prepared speech, there’s a break, and then everyone gives a two minute impromptu speech. The difference between speech tournaments in the States, where there’s maybe a five person audience, and this tournament, where it’s a proper PUBLIC speaking tournament, is that here, you give the speech in the gym, with every single person watching. Lots and lots of people. Which is always a bit intimidating, but it went well. My impromptu was a little bit rough, which was embarrassing. After years of giving six and seven minute impromptu speeches, stumbling over a two minute speech wasn’t my shining moment. On the plus side, the practice of making friends outside when the people before you give their impromptu speeches? Same in the United States and Swaziland. I was pleasantly surprised to find myself in a circle of conversation with students from all the other high schools, talking about the same things we always talked about in the States. Good times!

The other strange thing is that everyone else wore their school uniforms, but Waterford doesn’t have a uniform, so I wore what is normal for speech tournaments in the States – a suit. I mean, dress to impress and all, but I’ve never felt so overdressed in my entire life.

Anyways, after the speeches are done, I find out that I’ve been volunteered to do a debate. I’ve never debated before. I don’t do debate. I speak. Debate? No.

Anyways, it wasn’t really a choice, so I was tossed outside with some people to prepare a debate about banning bride prices. We were “yes” to banning it, so we prepared, and then went inside.

During the debate, it was the strangest thing. I realized that most of the audience thought that bride prices were acceptable. I mean, I guess I shouldn’t say that it’s strange or whatever, but it was bizarre to realize that something I thought was a total non-issue is actually a pretty strong topic, depending on the region, the audience, and their culture.
Anyways, after the debate, they finally announced the winners. I was second place for my prepared speech, and third place for my impromptu, and second-best senior level speaker overall. All of this came with a total of E125 prize money, which is highly appreciated, after breaking my last pair of sandals the other day. E125 can buy me lots of sandals and washing powder, which are the two main things I need right now. I actually love money prizes, instead of trophies. Good choice, Sifundzani.

AND, Waterford as a team won. As in, first place. As in, we’re the new Swaziland national champions for public speaking. YEAH!

There was one other random thing that happened at this speech tournament. When I found out I was going to Swaziland, oh-so long ago, I googled Swaziland, and found this Peace Corps Volunteer’s photo blog. I followed it, and just nonchalantly looked at the pictures as I was preparing to leave. Once I was here, it occurred to me that Swaziland is a small country, and so I emailed her, saying I was an American, and would love to meet her sometime. She said she’d be in Mbabane the day of the king’s visit, but you know, the king took precedence, and so that was that. I hadn’t talked to her since.

But then, today, at the public speaking tournament, I saw this girl with brown hair, funny bangs, and green glasses that just looked too familiar. When I heard the American accent, I realized that it had to be her. It just had to be. In the end, it was, and we talked for a while. She’s really chilled. It just made me laugh that after all this time, I’d just happen to stumble into her. Small world, huh.

So, I took my E125 prize money, and got back onto the bus for Waterford. Once arriving there, I checked my email, and found an email from WWOOF South Africa. For those of you not really into the permaculture and sustainability thing, WWOOF stands for World Wide Opportunities for Organic Farmers, and it’s a sort of work-exchange where you live and work on an organic farm in exchange for room and board for the duration of your stay. Since I cannot fly to the States for the month of May, which I have off of school, I was looking at WWOOF as cheap plans, where I could actually be doing something awesome, instead of just touristing around.
So, today, after registering, and figuring out how to wire transfer a small fee to the WWOOF South Africa organization, I got the list of hosts, meaning I got the list of farms to pick from. THEY’RE SO COOL. It just made me happy to read through them. Registering is kind of a gamble, as you can’t see the hosts until after you pay, but it’s going to work out so well. The farms sound wonderful – I’m so excited for break now! I’ve emailed a few of the ones that stood out to me as really cool, and I can’t wait to hear back!
Okay, so speech tournament and WWOOF. That’s two great things today, but that’s not all.

When I was getting ready to check into hostel tonight, the teacher who coordinates link parents stopped me. Link parents are kind of like a host family. We live in hostel, but it’s kind of a home away from home you can go to for weekends, breaks, and whenever you need a home other than the dorms. Anyways, I’d registered for a link family A REALLY LONG TIME AGO, and was getting kind of frustrated that everyone else was getting them, and I wasn’t.

 NO LONGER! She found me a link family! Well, not so much a link family as a link grandma. She’s this seventy-five year old woman living in a rondoval (a fancy word for the circle huts with grass roofs) near Mbabane. She does karate and goes mountain climbing, and is self-described as really weird. In essence, she sounds like the perfect link parent EVER for me. I’m so excited! I haven’t met her yet, but I’m going to get in touch with her sometime next week.
I COULDN’T BE HAPPIER! Won the national public speaking tournament, getting once step closer to having plans for the month-long break, and got a link family! LIFE IS SO GOOD!

King Mswati at Waterford

Yesterday, King Mswati came to Waterford to celebrate the school's achievements over the last 50 years. Highlights of the day? I danced a traditional Swazi dance in a traditional Swazi outfit for the king, and then he mentioned in his speech that the non-Swazi dancers did such a good job with the Swazi dance. I felt so special :)

 

Later on, attended a Q&A session with the king. To be blunt, his answers were awful, but I'll blame politics instead of him.

 

I'm just going to stop there, before I complain about how excessive and overly formal the whole day was, and how for a celebration of a school, the school was rather neglected, just so that the king would be comfortable.

 

Instead, I'll just post a bad picture that we took later that day in hostel of my Swazi outfit. We weren't allowed to take pictures at the event itself, but this is the outfit.

 

 

I guess that despite everything, it was still a good day, even though everyone returned to hostel that night exhausted. I've never heard hostel so quiet on a Friday night before - we all just went to sleep!

Ward 8

(Written yesterday. Gotta love the internet).
 This afternoon, I spent several hours volunteering in Ward 8 of the Mbabane Government Hospital. I was helping a woman who works with an organization called “mothers2mothers,” which deals with pregnant women and HIV/AIDS. Today, I learned how to fill out the patient records, which, while it sounds really lame, is actually an amazing opportunity. Can you imagine letting some random teenager fill out medical records on her first day in the States?

Anyways, so what happens is that when they see a patient, they write down their information in a little notebook, but then it needs to be transferred into the actual logbooks at the hospital. (Forget about computer systems; it’s all just written and re-written. Manual “copy-paste,” I suppose). Once I got into the mode of reading the nurse’s terrible handwriting, recognizing the more common Swazi names, and figuring out how to spell the various towns the women came from, I started paying more attention to the details of the forms.

There are several things that they log. First, there’s a column for whether the woman knows her partner’s status, and if so, what it is. Then, there’s a column for what the woman’s status is. At least in the ones I copied today, it was positive about half the time. There’s a column for how many children the woman already has, and whether they are HIV positive or negative. I didn’t mark a single child as positive today, which was really encouraging, as it means that these women are taking the right medication during pregnancy to prevent it from being passed onto their children.

Then came the treatment columns, where you had to mark whether the women were on all sorts of different anti-retroviral treatments, and what the child was on. This is where I had some issues, because they only wrote down one, and it was assumed that a nurse would know that “if they’re on this, they’re on this, and can’t be on this,” and so on. At first, I was just confused. But the nurse I was working with explained to me what was what, and why someone would be on something, and by the end of the time, I could de-code the medical markings and fill out the whole form.

Lastly, there was the comments section. The main thing that got written here was that the baby came out dead, which I wrote too many times. It’s technically just a form, but you can’t help but see it.

“18 years old, HIV positive, partner unknown, five months pregnant, CD4: 150 (an indication of how badly the HIV virus has impacted your system – 150 is not good), dead fetus removed.”

The last thing about it was a column to fill on whether they’d be on a certain medication for life. The nurse said to just always mark it “yes.” When I asked her why, her only response was that when they stop taking the medication, they die. They take the medication for the duration of their lives, whether they want to or not. It’s a necessity, just like food or water.

When I got back to hostel later that evening, lightning had knocked out the internet, and the power was going on and off for a while. For a moment, I was annoyed, and then I realized that I didn’t need it. I didn’t need the blanket on my bed, or the sweatshirt I was wearing, or the laptop I was holding, or the apple I had just eaten. I didn’t need ANY of it.

Maybe paperwork isn’t the most exciting job, but I’m learning about HIV/AIDS, treatments for it, and I’m working in a hospital, speaking siSwati, doing something I could never have done in the States. But regardless of all that, it’s knowing that this organization and these forms are the reason that these women have children who are HIV negative, and why they’re living into their twenties and thirties, and why some of them are still here to on this earth. Right now, to know that I’m some teeny-tiny part of all of it is all I need right now to make me fall asleep happy.

Superbowl in Swaziland

Here's my timeline:
Yesterday, 8 am - Realized it was Superbowl Sunday.
Yesterday, 8:01 am - Realized nobody else here even knew what that was.
Yesterday, 5:00 pm - Realized that with the time changes, the Superbowl was going to start at 1 am here.
This morning, 7:00 am - Realized I didn't know who won the Superbowl, and felt like a terrible American.
This morning, 7:30 am - Googled who won the Superbowl, and was just kind of confused. The Ravens?
This morning, 7:31 am - Wondered why I just Googled who won the Superbowl: I'm in Swaziland and nobody cares.
This morning, 7:32 am - All sports attention goes back to AFCON (African Cup of Nations).

The funny thing about sports here is that I've realized America is a really isolated country. Most other sports are international leagues, meaning that they play against teams from other countries. American sports? They're all national leagues, meaning we only play with other US teams. Football? The NFL. Hockey? The NHL. Baseball? The MLB. Basketball? The NBA. With the exception of a few Canadian teams in our leagues, we refuse to play anyone but ourselves!

Also, we have a weird set of sports. School sports offered here at Waterford are rugby, football (soccer), netball, squash, badminton, cricket and athletics, among other things. They're missing the Big 3 (in America) - American football, basketball, and baseball! It's strange, but to be honest the sports here are cooler.