"I Am Building"

9.05.08

Each night I close my eyes and wonder- what will I wake up to tomorrow?

A noise, a pitch- that always gets my attention- makes my skin crawl. A dog crying. I tear off my covers- run outside. Menzi inside the bed of a truck, rope in hand. At the end, a dog's hind legs tied together. He is raising her in the air. She's screaming- eyes now blood shot, shitting everywhere, she's biting hard at the rust metal of this old truck. Menzie is pulling her higher and higher while her body scrapes up against the jagged parts sticking out. He's going to brake a leg or cut her open. I yell, "Menzie! Wentani?!" What are you doing! He explains but I don't understand. He keeps pulling her- she's going into shock now. I move forward to grab the rope from him. "Simphiwe! NO! She'll bite!" "Yeah I wonder why!" I respond. I think he wants her in the truck with him. I go to lift her in. "Simphiwe NO! I am in here so she does not bite me!" We argue back and forth. I realize he is just simply trying to get a chain around her neck. I explain I can handle her. "Simphiwe, NO!" He turns to grab something- struggling to hold onto her while she bleeds from the cuts. She's on the ground now, Menzie distracted, I gently walk forward. I place my elbows behind her head, I press firmly on the back of her neck. I move my arms down- I hover over her like the pack leader dominating a dog in its pack. "Simphiwe, NO!" Menize notices. She tries to fight back. I hold her steady. I wait for it. I tell Menzie to stand still- she is reacting to his movement now. I wait for it. Finally, she submits. Still holding her down I extend my shit covered hand now to Menzie, "Now hand me the chain." I tie it hard around her neck. I hand over the dog to him. He explains she has been eating chickens and Mkhulu would be happy if she was chained up. "Next time, just come to me- I can handle it." I leave to wipe the shit off me.

I'm thinking- eggs for breakfast.

Getting dressed, I hear a light knock on my door- which surprises me. Swazis don't usually knock- they say, "clunk clunk"- never actually touching the door. Sobinele is back. She enters with a Bible in hand. Inside she pulls out a pink slip. On it, is written in all capitals, "NEGATIVE" and her daughters name, "Andiswa". No explanation needed. I point to the paper and say, "Now that's a beautiful thing." Tears in my eyes. We embrace. I wish I could say the same for her.

It's a Saturday- a day of funerals, soccer games, and drunkness. Pay day is Friday so Saturday you buy and drink booze. Bongiwe and I walk to a big soccer tournament. My bodyguards/brothers are fetching firewood in the mountains today- so I am curious how things will go.

Just yesterday- waiting two hours for a khombie at the carpentry shop/hang out grounds for lazy male youth. I endured two hours of stares, marry mes, whats your cell number, do you like sex, attempts at taking my picture, close talkers. When a khombie finally arrives- it was empty- a sigh of relief on my end. I've waited two hours for this- not sure if I could wait any longer. But then I see in the back, crazy drunk old man who I run into at every corner (the one who said, "I didnt mean for that to be my stomach") I seriously just laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. I get in. He grabs my shoulder. I grab his hand and throw it off. Can't catch a break.

So I'm curious how it will go today- drunk soccer funeral day- at the soccer game with only my sisi. Bongiwe and I have a seat on the grass. The game is an intense one. There's a large audience- but for once- all eyes are not on me. I am happy. In the distance, a drunk Swazi man stumbles. He's headed our way. I prepare myself. His eyes widen when he sees me. He stumble runs over shouting "MHLUNGU!" He grabs my arms. "MHLUNGU MHLUNGU!" I dont like my vulnerable seating. Me on the grass, he hovering over me. His hands go from grabbing my arms to grabbing my breast. I shoot up, throw my arms in the air pushing him to the ground. I shout, "Suka! Suka!" A rude way of saying...go away. He's on the ground, with a look of terror on his face. People just sit and stare. Soccer ball comes towards me, pass the goal. I boot it to the goal keeper. Now everyone looks astonished. I sit back down.. knees up, place my elbows on my knees and lean up again an old truck- piece of grass in mouth. I am Swazi Youth.

Another man walks over and apologizes on drunken man's behalf. I smell the booze on his breath. He leans in and whispers, "I want to tell you- I love you. I want you to be mine." I lean in and whisper back, "Why are we whispering?" He laughs. He follows me for the rest of the game. I ask Bongiwe if we can go home early. When I return, I explain the days events to my brothers. They tell me not to go without them again. "We will shaya anyone who messes with our sisi. And so will Mkulu."

I understand now how protected I am within my homestead. I never understood why- but I started to notice every time a Swazi man would insist on walking me home down the long dirt path to my house. They would always stop at the same exact point along the path and say, "OK Simphiwe let's talk here." My brothers laugh. "Because Simphiwe, that is the point right before the point when MKhulu can see the dirt path from home. They fear Mkhulu, and they fear us."

I think about the social hierarchy in most situations. I need to find the top dogs in my community outside of my own homestead- and befriend them. I must learn how to divert how to bend and transform men's harrasment into fun banter between two friends. I'm a shiny new toy right now- but with time, friendships, and boundaries the harrasment should subside. Statistically speaking a PCV is much much safer in their community than anywhere else in Africa. Within your community you are known, you are apart of it.

That night playing cards with my bhutis in my hut- teaching them games of skill instead of luck, how to shuffle, how undefeated I am at the game SPEED, they say to me, "Simphiwe there is no need to worry. The boys here are scared of you. People are saying, 'Simphiwe must know karate.'" I laugh. Another bhuti adds, " Yes- the way you sit and move- so flexible and your walk- so foreceful and strong. You're confident and your leg muscles are good and strong." I explain it's dance not karate, but to keep that rumor going. "You aren't scared of anything Simphiwe?" "Happy in my own ignorance." I reply.

That night I go outside to collect larger rocks. I pull out my jump rope, and mat. Bongiwe asks me what the rocks are for. "They are my new weights." I respond. She says, "Simphiwe- you are building a gym."

As I'm doing my now rouine push ups and pull ups I think, I am building a defense: my body and my connections.