"This African Life"

8.27.09

Our big day arrives- Swearing in, Season 6 volunteers, diplomats, ministries, NERCHA, Country Director, Assistant Country Director, teachers, training manager, have all come to swear us in as Peace Corps Volunteers. The Swazi Times and newscasters are here to make it public- Swaziland meet Peace Corps Group Seven. Before being seated a pregnant cat weaves her way around the seats- in my traditional Swazi wear- the Lehia (sp?), I chase after her. Simon walks over to me as I'm playing with her belly feeling little bodies inside. "Simphiwe, you've found a cat. This means you will cry today." "Simon you crazy." I respond. Music begins- we're all seated. We sing our national anthem as well as Swaziland's. Peace Corps Season Seven delivers a speech of thanks to Swaziland in English and Siswati. Ministries and country director all have speeches prepared for us. I watch pregnant cat rub her back against dangling crossed legs. American Embassy Diplomat- Sarah stands to deliver her speech. Sarah- the former Peace Corps Volunteer who had me tear up at our last event- the welcoming ceremony for trainees on July 4th- with her friend from Mali's speech. Inspiring heart warming speech explaining how differently we'll see the world when our service is over. Sarah you're killin me with these speeches. Next up- director of NERCHA (National Emergency Response Council on HIV/AIDS) gets up to deliver his speech. I've been watching him throughout the ceremony- seated with the other VIP's. His hand on his brow, long exhales as he sits back on his chair arms occasionally crossed against his chest. I'm sure he has some where better to be. But now it is time for his uplifting "go get em PCV"s" speech. His mannerisms prepare me for what he's about to say.

"You've entered an abnormal depresssing world. You're going to get angry, mad- ask me...Why isn't the government doing anything?! So when you feel absolutly depressed and frustrated- come to my office and i'll give you something to really be depressed about."

Silence follows. I'm desperatly trying hard to keep from laughing. This gloomy speech was exactly what I needed and wanted it to be. Do we applaud this? AWKWARD.

Country Director stands to lead us in our official swearing in- our oath to Service, to the Peace Corps.

"I, Meredith Brooks, do solemnly swear that i will defend the constitution of the United States against all enemies, forgein, and domestic and that I will bear true faith and allegiance to do the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge my duties in the Peace Corps. So help me God."

Against all enemies? Is this the army or Peace Corps- this ain't War Corps. Im confused.

I'm a Peace Corps Volunteer! "Congratulations, you are now a Peace Corps Volunteer." I'm beaming, tears in my eyes. I'm finally here- this moment is finally here. Dammit Simon was right. For a brief moment I think- how sad, Peace Corps giving us a certificate for "toughing" out these past nine weeks. Living a life, doing what Swazis have been doing they're whole life. But being handed that Peace Corps certificate- meant more to me than any degree ever could.

Ceremony over- Peace Corps divides us into our regions: HHoho, Manzini, Schezelwani, Lombombo. Our belongings and those volunteers in our region are crammed into vans. All of us embrace each other- we aren't each other's routine anymore. Only allowed to leave site once a month for the next three months, it'll be a while before we see ecah other again. Group 6 is remembering when they had to say goodbye to each other a year ago- tears of empathy in their eyes. I hug my boys. "Be safe Meredith, take care of yourself." As I'm squeezing myself into my Manzini Region van, I hear a group 6 PCV shout to us all, "It's time to go home guys- go home now."

My home- a stranger- waits for me.

Peace Corps drives as I watch out the window, passing rolling hills, mountains, and valleys. A woman carrying her belongings on her head, a boy with a cow boy hat on- dust from the road blowing past him, a girl dressed in bright colors clings to an equally colorful tree in an open field mountains behind her. You see all these pictures that you've seen in National Geographics before. I've always wondered what the photographer in Africa must have been feeling when he captured these moments of light. How forgein this world to him. But when you stop to put the camera down- when you accpet you cannot possibly capture every beautiful moment- because this is life here. The moments become less surreal and this is just home. I wish I could explain to these people here that their life is art to those of us back home.

We pull into my homestead, unload my things. Make is polishing my hut floor (Swazis will polish anything and everything). Her breasts hanging out her apron- I'm grateful she's so short or else our strong.. strong embrace would force me deciding- do I go left, do i go right, or head right in between? "Ngiyajubula sisi!" I am so happy! "Nami futsi make" Me also mother.

So the moment that has been described over and over and over and over again by Peace Corps- is HERE. Luggage at my side, I embrace my fellow PCV and PC driver. I watch the dust roll up the back of the van as they pull away. I wait for the anticipated, the expected anxiety, the fear. But I get nothing. Dammit Peace Corps- you have robbed me of this moment. I wanted to feel- something.

In my hut, I sat alone, books, manuals, the how to everythings sorrounding me now. Where do I start- where do I begin?

I catch a khombie to my nearest shopping town- Manzini. It's about a half an hour khombie ride. My hatred for this ridiculous transport is dying down- now it's just entertainment. Akon blarring out of crackling speakers, khombie packed so full everyone must suck in and turn their heads to the right (you think I'm joking). I'm pressed against a sliding door that flaps open. You imagine the most horrific dramatic graceful deaths as you're winding around a 'slow" moving vehicle ahead. You're going atleast 80 mph. The road turns, you're on the wrong side of the road- AGAIN. You let go of fear- you accept This African Life.

In town I rush to the internet- outside world explodes into my inbox. I've given up trying to keep up with American news. I'm relieved mom is online. "Facebook has chat?!" She exclaims. I explain my frustrations, my concerns. How am I going to be productive without a counterpart? Who's going to plug me into this society? Her words are encouraging. I'm in a hurry now. The sun is about to set and I've got to find my khombie statin. As if God was ease dropping on my conversation- a woman literally drops from the sky and accidentally runs into me when I make a turn out of the mall. "Oh ncesi!"(Sorry). We're walking side by side now. I'm amazed she's keeping pace with me. No Swazi ever has. I ask her if she knows where Satellite Khombie Station is. She says to follow her- she is haeded that way. She asks me where I am from. I tell her where I am from and what I am doing here. She explains she is doing similar work with Elsium Society. An organization that works with OVC's (orphaned vulnerable children) all over Swaziland. She tells me she is living in Nkiliji. I laugh. She tells me she trained in Ngonini. How can it be, doing the same work, living in the same place, from the same area, the same age even. We exchange numbers and have two scheduled interviews later this week.

I return home to find my bhutis hanging around the khombie stop. With them is Alexander- my secret admirer. He has written such works as:
"To: A special Lady
Although it is my first time to see you but I, want to elaborate that I, love you with all my heart and there is no one like you in my life you are so pretty to me, so please may you do for a favour accepting my love so please may you think for your future with me and the luxury life we will leaving with you. Please reply soon.
From: Alexander

His works also include but are not limited to:

To: Special Lady of my Heart
"So if you are not willing to give me yoru love why don't tell me. Today you are gong back but even if you make me an ass I will always love you, you are my desire, you are everything t me so I wish you a good journey and days. Please may you give me your cell number."

I greet my brothers and walk past. Alexander stops me. He asks if he may accompany me home. The walk- to say the least- was awkward. He understands and speaks English well, but I've never seen someone so nervous. "Why...gshhesh..I mean.. ahh.. Why do you... not..ah.. write me back?" I explain he cannot possibly love someone who he does not know. "Have you heard of love at first sight?" Simone notices us and runs over to me. She greets Alexander, "Hello Sibali." She laughs. I shout, No no no no! Sibali meaning brother in law. "Simphiwe Alexander's Siswati name is Bosisoe. It means blessing. Simphiwe is a gift. So- you two have something in common then." She can't stop laughing.

It's dark now. I realize I have no water. "We must go and fetch water then!" Simone shouts, slapping me on the back. I get my water barrel and the wheel barrow. Simone and I walk to the neighbor's tap- a 5 minute walk. (Swazi walk keep in mind). The 25 litre barrel full of water now, I struggle to lift it into the wheel barrow. A five minute walk lies ahead, with many bumps, rocks, and a ridiculously steep hill. I struggle to keep the wheel barrow from tipping, trying hard to balance it, water splashing everywhere as I hit rock after rock. I'm struggling. Simone laughing ahead of me, "You're Swazi now Simphiwe! Come on strong swazi woman! Alexander wants his water! He's hungry! You need water to cook for your husband!" I've stubbed my toe somewhere along the way and can feel the warmth of blood seeping out from underneath the toe nail. Im laughing at how ridiculous this all looks. I can't stop laughing. "Come on Simphiwe! Alexander is waiting. He's calling your name! Lets go Swazi Woman!" Pushing as hard as I can, I shout to her, "I thought there was no hurry in Swaziland?!"

Twenty minutes later I make it back to our homestead- only to realize my hut is at the bottom of an even narrower bumpier incline. I barely get the barrel out of the wheel barrow. Simone walks away laughing. "Simone! How do I get this to my hut!? Simone! SIMONE! Simone?" Her laughter growing fainter and fainter. I take a seat next to the now 3/4 full water jug. Laughing to myself. This is all so cliche...white girl fetching water for the first time- shouting for help. I try to push it down the hill. I stop to catch my breath. I take a seat and wipe the sweat off my brow. I look up and see Sipho standing in front of me- looking down. Sipho is my mother's cousin. Middle aged and mentally challenged. He takes care of the cattle and dogs. He loves the dogs. He shuffles around the homestead with a half smile on his face. He looks down at my water jug and points to the right of us. Smiling he picks up the barrel with ease and walks over to a much softer incline with no bumps and even steps. I follow. He sets it in front of my hut, stands still looking at me- smiling. "Ngiyabonga Sipho." He shuffles off.

It's 8 pm now. I'm dying of thirst. But I first must boil then filter my water before I can drink it. To thirsty to wait, I inhale extremely hot water and collapse onto my bed. I forget about the dirt, the sweat, the bloody toe. Within minutes I am fast asleep with no fan, no ear plugs, and about a dozen roosters screeching and seven dogs howling outside.

I am home.