Somewhere Between Life and Death

8.08.09

Day Two OJT

It's early- I hear "Shaya Toady! Shaya!" She's after the chickens again- pants off. I then hear the put put of Babe Shongwe's little red jetta. Hat off, he greets me. "OK sisi- time to go, here are the car keys." Always testing me.

Today we go to the secondary and primary schools. Babe will introduce me to the headmasters and head mistresses. I realize teaching in schools is not the most sustainable of projescts- but it will be my in to the youth community- I can branch out from the classroom later. After the schools, we make our way to the local clinic. After each stop I high five him and he tells me, "OK sisi- you pass." I exclaim, "Yebo- Babe Counterpart!" "Sisi, why do you keep calling me that?" He asks. "I tell him we make a good team- that he should be my counterpart. "No Sisi, I cannot- I am too busy, please sisi, do not tell the chief how good of a job I am doing. I cannot be elected for this- too much hard work."

We abandon the car- the road now too bumpy to drive on. As we are walking, Babe Shongwe, like so many Swazis, complains, "Sisi- you walk too fast. Too fast Sisi!" I apologize, "Ncesi Babe, I am American. We Americans always have somewhere to be- always in a hurry." Like so many Swazis, Babe says, "There's no hurry in Swaziland."We have arrived to a very old Gogo's home. She used to be an RHM (a Rural Health Motivator) in the area. She had her own running clinic in her home. We reach the gate. "OK sisi, I go first. You cannot lead anymore. I am the man here." I notice the heavy tall grass that lies ahead. "OK Babe, you lead. You'll just be the first to get bitten by a snake, or bitten by a protective dog. You're doing ME a favor Babe." He stops, he pauses, " OK Sisi- YOU go first." He smiles. "No no no, it's a man's world here. After you- Babe Counterpart..."

Old Gogo reaches her hand out to greet us. Babe Shongwe does the routine introduction of me, I follow. Old Gogo is eager to complain to me about her home. "When it is raining, I go outside!" Im not really sure why we are here. It is important I meet everyone- I suppose. Before we go, old Gogo insists we eat some sour pouridge. Two months in Swaziland- and I have yet to try the staple food- sour pouridge. In America we use descriptors like "sweet" to describe something that most Americans would agree- tastes good. Here in Swaziland- sour, like sweet, is a good thing. Babe Shongwe rubs his hands together in excitement before digging in to his pouridge. So far I have liked everything a Swazi has fed me. They pat me on the head after I finish my second helping of food before grown men have even finished their first helping. I've always been a "good eater". I take my first bite of sour pouridge. It introduces itself to my taste buds, it tries to continue on- sliding down the back of my throat- eager to meet my stomach. I squint my eyes. My taste buds go into shock. My throat refuses to let this vile weed intoduce itself to my stomach. I cannot! Finish it Mere- Finish it. I yell at myself. Dont' be rude- swallow! I swallow. I guess I would say it kind of tastes like- rotten baby flesh with a hint of egg. What genius came up with the idea of eating something that literally was- rotten. "I know.. I got it I got it guys- like Maize is cool and all- but like what if... now now now.. bare with me here.. we let it ferment. I mean not rotten- but you know.. ALMOST rotten."

With a bowl full of sour pouridge (how the f do you spell pouridge- am I getting it right? pourridge?) in front of me and a very hospitable old Gogo behind me- starring. I do what any decent American would do. "Babe- could you please pass me the sugar?" Babe and Gogo stare as I pour.. I mean pour the sugar onto the rot. Glistening sweetness in my bowl. Unfortunatly no amount of sugar could mask the disgust. Babe finishes- smile on his face- he tells me we cannot go with food still on our plates. I slide him my sweet rot. "You arent going to like it Babe." I warn him. He takes a bite. "Sisi! You ruined it! Oh shame!" He pours more sourt on top of the sweet. My stomach starts to turn. Muscles are beginning to move around- preparing for rejection. I hold it together. I will NOT throw up. We thank old Gogo and walk back to the car. I move slowly behind Babe Shongwe, holding my aching belly. "Ah sisi!" he turns back and says, " I think I have figured out how to slow you down and keep you walking BEHIND a man!" He laughs loudly then begins to whistle. I shake my fist in the air.... victory- he has found my chriptonite.

On our way to other RHM's we pass old crumbled buildings- Babe explains. Abandoned Peace Corps projects from former volunteers years and years ago. The unsustainable in front of me.

We arrive at the home of another RHM. It's noon now, she is eating under a tree- a patient dog at her feet. Babe gives the introduction speech- I follow. I joke to him I am now timing our speeches, a contest- who can do it faster. " You love time sisi" He tells me. Gogo leans back, unamused. Why hasn't she grabbed my hand in excitement. Why hasn't she asked me to be her daughter in law- like the others. She crosses her arms above her now gravity driven breasts. In English, she asks me, " What promise are YOU going to break to me- like all the others?" Damn previous PCV's. These people do not forget. I laugh, "Gogo, I don't ever give promises. Thats a promise. I am a learner. I am here to learn from you- and I hope over the next few months you will allow me to follow and assist you and learn from you." She smiles. Babe Shongwe leans over and whispers, "You pass."

Day two of OJT is almost over. Tomorrow he will take me to Manzini to meet the entire Manzini police force- I have no idea why.

I spend the evening with my new Make and Babe, Bhutis, and sisi's. They ask me to come and pray with them before dinner. The kids and I shuffle into the living room. The parents sit on chairs. The kids and I on the ground. Babe asks Bongiwe to read a bible verse in Siswati and for me to read it in English. I read it out loud in English to the family. He then asks me, "Simphiwe, what does that mean?" What does that mean- I ask myself. I was not prepared for this. I look down at the verse again. blah blah blah they blah blah blah thou blah blah TRUST IN THE LORD. "Trust in the lord?" I ask with zero confidence. "No, no, what does it mean to YOU!" He demands. Ten pairs of eyes on me, mouths open in anticipation. Four years of college you'd think I'd be able to bullshit my way out of this one. "I dont know Babe." I exhale loudly with discomfort. Sorry Babe Shongwe- I failed this one. "It's time for prayer." Babe exclaims. Everyone, including make and babe, place their foreheads on the ground in the "craddle pose". They all are praying out loud to themselves. Siswati is all I hear. My name occasionally said. My forehead too on the ground, just trying to integrate- I open my eyes and look behind me- I see Tabisoe, the 12 year old trouble maker, sticking his toungue at me and giggling. We end with a praryer that everyone recites together in Siswati. I recognize the rhythm, the flow, I ask, " Did you just recite the Lord's Prayer in Siswati?" Babe is pleased I know this. He beams.

I pass.

After dinner, I invite Simone to my hut to drink wine and get to know each other. Toady is winding down finally. her mother cradles her in her arms- Toady's eyes become heavy- thumb in her mouth- her other hand inside her mother's shirt, holding her breasts. It was only two weeks ago when Simone weened Toady off breast-feeding. The breast still a source of comfort. Toady turns her head, she looks at me lying on my bed. She unlatches herself from her mother and walks over to me. She climbs into my bed- wiggles her little body into my arms, facing me, thumb in mouth, she looks into my eyes- she says, "Ma." (Short for Make- Mother). She then digs her arm into my shirt searching for that comfort. At first I try to grab her arm out- I mean I cant recall experiencing a child digging into my shirt to grab onto my breasts- ever. Simone laughs, "It's ok- she'll fall asleep faster that way, and she won't stop until you let her." I let her. I think how pathetic- I've gotten more action from a two year old over the past few months. As Toady looks into my eyes, sucking hard on her thumb, I think- I am about to watch this child grow up for the next two years. What impact will I have on her life?

I ask Simone what it was like to give birth. She pauses and thinks, "You feel like you're going to die- you know you are about to die- but then life happens. It comes out between your legs and nothing else matters. Nothing else is around you. You hear life and that is all that matters now. Giving birth is somewhere between life and death."

I hold this tiny life, asleep in my arms. Maternal instincts kick in, and I think..someday, someday I will know.