My Ishmael

9.17.09

I make my way to the carp shop. Today *Mctosa, my proud African, will show me how to build a book shelf. I am excited. I am nervous. I bring speakers and Ray Charles on the i pod to ease any tension between two very stubborn, extroverted individuals. *Mctosa and I. Teacher and student. When I arrive, no *Mctosa and four men working hard on a bookshelf. "Uphi *Mctosa?"I ask. They don't know where he is- but that's my bookshelf they are building. "Ugh." I call him. When he arrives he asks me to walk with him.

"Simphiwe, I was trying to keep this from you. I'm sorry but my Uncle, who owns the carp shop, has fired me. I injured my arm in soccer and unable to work now. He mistakes my injury for laziness. So.... no job anymore." While we walk, I hassle him to be my Siswatie teacher- as I have been for the past four days. "No Simphiwe. I cannot." "*Mctosa. I need someone who speaks English very well. Out of school. No job. And challenges me. You. You. You. You." "No. No. No. No." He responds.

Our walk ends at my place where I continue to pick this Proud African's brain. Like reading a good book, he speaks mostly in proverbs and idioms. He speaks seven languages and is on the "wrong side of 29". 30 years old. While we're sitting, suddenly *Mctosa shoots up and points. In his booming Proud African voice he asks, "What...is... this..?" I laugh, it's a bookshelf *Mctosa." Like most Swazis, when shocked, he mutters, "How?" "But I thought you wanted me to make you one?" He asks. "I did. I only asked you to teach me how to make a shelf because I was curious about you. I don't REALLY need a bookshelf." I respond. Look of total confusion on his face. He sits, leans back in the chair, arms crossed above his head, "If Mohammad won't go to the mountains, the mountains won't come to Mohammad. You have my attention." He says and smiles. He's starring at the piece of paper behind my head. He stands, walks over to it and reads. "IMPORTANT PEOPLE" underneath these words- a list of Swazi names. Number 2. *Mctosa Dlamini- Proud African/Carpenter. Next to it I have written in Siswati how to say I want you to show me how to build a bookshelf and Open your eyes Simphiwe, you're in Swaziland. In Siswati. He laughs. He looks through my collection of books. He picks up "1984". "George Orwell." He says. "His novel, Animal Farm, changed my life." I'm intrigued he knows this book. Any book. I live in a world full of people who have no appreciation for literature and Ray Charles. It's Akon and pornography here. I pull out my favorite book. "The Constant Gardner" and hand it to him. "I think you will like this story. It's my favorite." I let him borrow it.

*Mctosa sits and thinks a bit, left lip curling up. His thinking face- a snarl. Words can't describe *Mctosa expressions. In his usual way of speaking- always emphasizing each word epically. He says to me, "So....now.. we....are... friends?" "Yebo." I reply. "Asembe." He says. Lets go.

As we're walking- everywhere we go people shout, "Mctosa!". Mctosa! Mctosa! Mctosa! His cell phone ringing constantly. He is the local soccer star. I've seen him play- fancy footwork like the Brazilians. He's good. I have found my "top dog" in this social hierarchy- hoping to gain some respect. We walk past my favorite tree. This side of Africa, colors are faded. Dry, worn out greens, browns, and the red red soil. All the color wasted underneath your feet. But every once in a while, you come accross this singing tree. Large and booming. Branches extended in every direction carrying petals of purple. This tree, unlike the others, is not tired of Swaziland just yet. She's full of life and motivation. Determined to bring color to this worn out given up world. An inspiration to me- I hope to be like this tree for the people.

"What do you call this tree *Mctosa?" "A jacuranda." He rolls his R's.

We turn right. "My home." He says. Right next to the booming jacuranda. A stop sign hangs on a large gate and a picture of a bull dog, "Beware of Dogs." I like this place. Like most Swazis, his hut is neat and clean. On a table are piles and piles of dusty old newspapers and a few novels. On another table more stacks of newspapers and magazines. "Why do you keep all these papers?" I ask. "When I run out of books to read, I just pick up a paper and read it again. I like the English language. It's fun to play around with the words. Your vocabulary is deep. The words sound so nice." All Swazi papers are written in English. Siswati is mostly a spoken language with a very limited vocabulary. Ironic, I learn that there is no Siswati word for "love". You can "tsandza" (like) a carrot like you tsandzsa the love of your life. Like and love are the same. I explain this to *Mctosa.

"That's why I never tell a woman how much I love her in Siswati. Only English or Porteguese." He says. "And if she doesn't speak English?" I ask. "Then Goodbye." He smiles. *Mctosa tells me about his girlfriend- 8 months pregnant. A mistake he says. We talk about our first meeting. I remind him of all the offensive things he said to me. He laughs. "You know. Before I met you. People were coming up to me saying, 'Mctosa! Mctosa! There's a white girl living here!' And I thought, a white woman..here? In Nkiliji? I'm going to investigate this girl- figure her out. Challenge her. I thought you might just be some little white girl." "And now?" I ask. In Mctosa booming pausing at every word voice he says, " SO...FIRST. I judge you. SECOND. I try to challenge you. THIRD. I insult you. AND NOW? And now you ask?" He pauses. I interrupt. "We are friends." Mocking his booming pausing words I say, "AND...SOON..." He interjects. "Yes" I continue. "Will"..."Yes"..."Be"...."Yes"..."My"...."Yes"...."Teacher."...."NO." He responds looking down at the ground, shaking his head no, eyes closed. I tell him they almost put me in West Africa, but last minute they decided Swaziland was where I would go. "SO. God said, 'No! Proud African and Simphiwe must be together to learn from each other!'" He shouts.

"So you believe in God?" I ask. "Im agnostic." he says. I laugh. I've never NEVER heard a Swazi say this word. An agnostic Swazi talking with an agnostic American. "And your king?" I ask. "What about my stupid King?" He asks. "A man who hires people like you to come to his world and preach condoms, abstinence, one wife. With his 13/14 wives and about a thousand children. Do you think his majesty uses a condom?" He asks me. "So *Mctosa, be a role model. Swaziland has no role models. Swazi youth has no one to look up to except Akon and gangsters of America. You could help." I tell him. "You're telling me to be a role model?" He asks, curling his lip up in disapproval. "Good deeds? Washing people's feet. Helping the needy. A black Jesus?" "Something like that." I respond. "NO." He says with a twist of his head, elongating the O. " Simphiwe, you cannot force a horse to water who does not want to drink. Swazis don't want my help. A wise man changes his mind- only a fool stays the same. Swaziland is full of fools. Remember that Simphiwe. You can't change anyone." "OK. I take it back. You aren't the black Jeus I hoped you would be." I say. He laughs, "OK. I'm a white Jesus." He says smiling big. "But you, a white woman from America. The most developed country in the world. OH AMERICA! A country with Beyonce Akon and Obama. Preachin' change change change. YOU. They will listen to."

It's getting late. I leave "The Constant Gardner" with *Mctosa and return home. Along the way, I run into Alexander- my once distant secret admirer, but now a constant shadow and constant pain in my ass. Always following me always calling me. Yesterday he saw me hug my sisi, Bongiwe's friend. He told me I was not allowed to hug or look at other men. I laughed. I had to explain the word "possessive" to him. I have told him repeadtly that I am a teacher, he a student. We are only friends. I tell him everyday to stay when he tries to follow me to the store.

And now, I hear he is telling his friends I am his girlfriend. Unfortunatly, I live in a society where boys and girls only interact when they are dating. Each day when they see Alex and I "interact" (he interacting with me) "proposing love" to me- watching eyes are thinking we are together. This is horrible for my reputation. Which is everything and incredibly important to maintain. He has seen me interacting with Proud African and has let me know how unhappy this makes him.

When I return home. Bongiwe and my bhutis tell me to, "Stay away from *Mctosa." There are rumors that an ex girlfriend of his is now taking ARV's. That *Mctosa used to sleep around, make bad decisions, always fighting, wreckless and careless. Everyone is sure he is now HIV positive. Bongiwe places her hands on my shoulders, looks deep into my eyes and says, "Simphiwe. I love you and I am begging you- stay away from *Mctosa. If people think you are with him- they will think you are a stupid silly girl. Promise me you will not be with him?" I tell her he is my friend and I will do everything I can to make sure people do not see us together.

At night, I lie in bed thinking of a billion things as I do every night. I am angry. I've finally found a true friend. A Swazi who's never asked me for anything. My hand in marriage, my love, money, emasweetie (candy). I have found My Ishmael. He helping me to analyze my culture, as I help him to analyze his. Two outsiders.

My Proud African has a name. *Mctosa. And of course, in Siswati means- Strength.