We left the hostel early, got on the Baz Bus with 2 older German guys and a young French couple and our driver Jesse, who is Indian and hilarious, and drove to Nelspruit, where we picked up a British couple. Then we drove to the South African/Swaziland border, jumped out into the cold, cold rain, ran into the chaotic South African customs/boarder control building, got our passports stamped, ran back to the bus, drove about 5 feet over the border, then ran into the Swaziland customs/border control building, which was 10 times nicer and more organized than the South African building. Got our passports stamped, ran back to the bus, and watched a policeman chase a cow out of the whole complex. Very amusing.
It was a 7 hour bus ride from Johannesburg to Mbabane, Swaziland. Beautiful scenery, but it was very foggy and rainy for much of it. We arrived at our hostel where we met Michelle’s friend Eli, spent the night in a tiny private room with one bed, and the next day went grocery shopping and got on a local bus with Eli going to his rural Peace Corp site. The three of us plus one other Peace Corp volunteer were the only white people on the bus (which looks a bit like an old prisoners bus from the 1960s). It was the greatest bus ride I’ve ever taken. We rode along a dirt rode the entire time, the scenery was breathtaking, the people were friendly, we ate steamed corn, and I listened to Boards of Canada on my ipod with my noise-isolating headphones, which greatly helped, since it was also the noisiest bus ride I’ve ever taken.
The bus dropped us off down the road from Eli’s homestead he’s been living at for the past 15 months. The homestead consists of 2 pit latrines (one of which was built specially for Eli), 2 small concrete buildings (one of which is Eli’s private room), a main house with a small kitchen, bathroom, living room, bedroom and kid’s bedroom, and a wooden storage shed along with about 3 pens for cows and chickens. When we arrived at the main house we were greeted by Babe (father) and Make (mother) Shongwe (surname), who are actually the grandfather and grandmother of the four children who live on the homestead: two girls, Mpilo, 10, and Debe, 6, and two boys, Insika, 6, and Sandila, 8. The family doesn’t speak any English, but Eli has learned some siSwati, the language of Swaziland, so he was able to roughly translate. We shook hands and hugged and laughed as we tried to communicate, and Make gave Michelle and I siSwati names. Michelle is Sibongile, which means “We are thankful,” and I am Jabulile, which means “We are happy.” We had a blast introducing ourselves with these names to the many community members we met the next day, all of whom thought it was hilarious that the foreigners had siSwati phrases as names.
After meeting and greeting, Michelle, Eli and I hung out in Eli’s little concrete room until dinner was ready. Then I had another one of those mind-blowing experiences that seem to come so damn readily on this trip (and I know, it’s only been a week...). It was dark by now, and the stars were amazing as we walked the short distance from Eli’s room to the main house. Then we entered the small kitchen, which, since the homestead has no electricity, was lit by a single candle on the table we ate at and another candle being held by one of the children to light the way for Make as she prepared dinner. Eli gave us a short tour of the main house using my headlamp, and then the three of us sat at the small kitchen table with Babe while Make served us pap, the staple starch of this area of Africa, along with the cooked vegetables and beef we had brought from Mbabane. Make then joined us at the table while the four grandchildren sat silently in the corner by the warmth of the woodburning stove. And that’s when my head exploded in a wonderfully beautiful way. Here I was, eating a traditional Swazi dinner with two village elders in their home, the dim candlelight flickering off the plates and cups and furniture and walls, the four silent children dark silhouettes in the corner, nothing but the sound of insects outside, the occasional dog bark, and clinking silverware. And I had the thought that my entire illustrious academic career in anthropology had led up to this moment. And it was 100 times better than sitting in a classroom and learning about these distant cultures. Instead I was actually experiencing it, true participant observation, and I completely loved it.
We woke up early the next morning and followed the four grandchildren to their primary school, where we met all the teachers (the school is jointly sponsored by Swaziland and Japan!). We watched the morning assembly at the school and then walked an hour along the dirt rode through amazingly beautiful scenery to the Red Cross Clinic that Eli has been doing some work at. After getting a tour and taking a little break, we then walked back to the homestead to make ourselves lunch and collapse on the bed for a bit.
Later that day, the kids got home from school and were running around the homestead. I came out with my ukulele and started playing it for them, then handed it over, and the crazy happy fun time started! (see videos)
That night after dinner we gave Make and Babe a picture book of DC, which they seemed fascinated by. Babe said (in siSwati): “Now that I have seen what your city looks like, I want to visit!” And we said, “Yes, please visit!” We also gave them a bag of mints we had bought in Mbabane, and then we said we have one more gift for them: the gift of music!!!! (cheesy cheesy cheesy). But alas, it’s true, earlier that day Michelle and I composed a 3-chord song on my ukulele set to siSwati words that Eli wrote down about how we are happy and thankful to be in Vusweni, how the stars are beautiful in Vusweni, and how our heart loves the family Shongwe. After our amazing performance in the candlelit kitchen, Make said “Encore” (I have no idea why she knows that word!), and I ran back to Eli’s room to get my little “learn ukulele” book with the sheet music for a bunch of basic songs. I sang This Little Light of Mine, Amazing Grace, He’s Got the Whole World in his Hands, and a few other oldies but goodies, while Michelle and Eli occasionally chimed in and Babe, Make, and the kids hummed and swayed along. Then I sang Siyahamba, which anyone who’s sung in a middle school choir in the U.S. should know, and low and behold, the real Africans knew it, too! So we all sang the African verse, then Eli and I sang the English verse while the Africans sang the African verse, then I stopped and said I just want to hear the Africans sing it, and they did with Make calling and the kids responding, and it was fantastic. Finally, Babe and Make asked for one more song, and even though Eli and Michelle suggested I do Somewhere Over the Rainbow (Iz’s version, of course), I opted instead for a Radiohead song, Last Flowers. I absolutely love this song, it’s gorgeous, and despite the fact that at one point the lyrics are “Snot-nosed little punk”, I still think I touched the family (particularly since they don’t understand English). Here was a strange, beautiful woman playing strange, beautiful music in their home, her rich mezzo voice filling the small kitchen (okay, I’m making myself want to vomit). But seriously, they seemed to really appreciate the song, and I have to say it was perhaps the most un-self-conscious singing I’ve ever done in my life. The evening pretty much evolved from there into a cultural exchange, with the kids doing a dance or singing a song, then the Americans doing a dance or singing a song (we did the Macarena, the Electric Slide, and Eli and I waltzed around the kitchen), Make did a traditional Swazi dance/song, and then we ended the impromptu performance with Michelle and I dancing and singing our favorite Japanese song from childhood, “Po, po, po”, with the kids.
Before we went back to Eli’s room to sleep, Make said she wished we could stay with them forever, and we heartily agreed. Babe said he will build us each a house to stay in when we return. Sweet.
Tags: swaziland
