"Hometown Glory"

11/27/09

Happy Ambassador Giving desperate PCV's food....Day!


5 months away from home so far. 4th of July, our first holiday without family was an easy one. We were all still excited- Swaziland still new. Thanksgiving stung a bit more. It'll be nothing in comparison to Christmas, but still our heads hung a little lower.

My new hero, Mr. U.S. Ambassador, however, saved the day. Ambassador of Swaziland invited every American in Swaziland to dine with him on this American holiday. Thanksgiving day marked the end of IST. The end of ten days that left us all a little bit crazier. All 62 of us try our hardest to look our best for the VIP's of Swaziland. I try my hardest to scrub the black off my feet, shave my legs (around all the cuts and scabbed over mosquito bites), try my hardest to get the dirt out from under my nails. I cover up the circles under my eyes, and put deodarant on for the first time in months. I borrow a pretty dress that isn't full of avocado and mustard stains.

A woman again.

62 big smiling faces pile into a big smiling bus. A care package was just received. A Happy Thanksgiving Day package from someone back home with two People magazines inside. We attack like lions. Pictures of the cast of the new Twilight film sends girls screeching. An article about a dog who can read, "Give me that!" I scream as I tear it from the girl's death grip. Bus stops. Magazines and mouths drop.

New life plan: Become U.S. Ambassador

The Ambassador's palace awaits. A line of who I presume to be important people wait to shake each of our hands. Out of habit, I Swazi youth shake the U.S. ambassador. He looks confused. STUPID! I tell myself. Cheese and candy coated peanuts line the tables. A bucket of ice filled with beer. Before I can notice anything else, I quickly inhale half a block of green olive cheese. GREEN OLIVE CHEESE....GENIUS! They made the wrong decision putting cheese in front of 62 volunteers before the other guests arrive.

The other guests arrive. No cheese in sight. Ambassador's people, internationals, and Country director pour in. Women with bright red lipstick and shoulder pads- babies clinging to their pantie hoes. Mommys important. Mommy gets paid to travel the world with me. I'm five and have seen more of the world than you ever will. I have pigtails and speak five different languages.

I feel uncomfortably out of place. Where's the "kiddy table" I wonder. For once it's where I want to be.

Ambassador stands to make a speech before dinner. I try desperately to push the half block of green olive cheese I inhaled to the right corner of my belly... I know there's lasagna inside there somewhere. "I'd like to read to you, Obama's Thanksgiving speech.." Ambassador says. 4th of July was the last speech I heard from our President. It moved me. Would this one do the same?


"What began as a harvest celebration between European settlers and indigenous communities nearly four centuries ago has become our cherished tradition of Thanksgiving. This day's roots are intertwined with those of our Nation, and its history traces the American narrative.

Today, we recall President George Washington, who proclaimed our first national day of public thanksgiving to be observed "by acknowledging with grateful hearts the many and signal favors of Almighty God," and President Abraham Lincoln, who established our annual Thanksgiving Day to help mend a fractured Nation in the midst of civil war. We also recognize the contributions of Native Americans, who helped the early colonists survive their first harsh winter and continue to strengthen our Nation. From our earliest days of independence, and in times of tragedy and triumph, Americans have come together to celebrate Thanksgiving.

As Americans, we hail from every part of the world. While we observe traditions from every culture, Thanksgiving Day is a unique national tradition we all share. Its spirit binds us together as one people, each of us thankful for our common blessings.

As we gather once again among loved ones, let us also reach out to our neighbors and fellow citizens in need of a helping hand. This is a time for us to renew our bonds with one another, and we can fulfill that commitment by serving our communities and our Nation throughout the year. In doing so, we pay tribute to our country's men and women in uniform who set an example of service that inspires us all. Let us be guided by the legacy of those who have fought for the freedoms for which we give thanks, and be worthy heirs to the noble tradition of goodwill shown on this day.

NOW, THEREFORE, I, BARACK OBAMA, President of the United States of America, by virtue of the authority vested in me by the Constitution and the laws of the United States, do hereby proclaim Thursday, November 26, 2009, as a National Day of Thanksgiving. I encourage all the people of the United States to come together, whether in our homes, places of worship, community centers, or any place where family, friends and neighbors may gather, with gratitude for all we have received in the past year; to express appreciation to those whose lives enrich our own; and to share our bounty with others."

I'm moved. It's during these moments when we ban together- all Americans in one room- not a mhlungu, not a foreginer- but an American, trying to do good and what's "right" for the world. It's these moments that I feel truly apart of something bigger than myself. I belong. It's a rare feeling for me to have. It's truly inspiring. We all pause for a moment after the speech. My tilted head, twinkling eyes, and feeling of awe quickly vanish when I hear my two favorite words, "Lets eat!". Internationals, Ambassadors, country directors...all the VIP's aside...I'm still first in line.

I need a third plate. I need another hand. I know every PCV is kicking themselves for not bringing tupperware, or lining their purses with tin foil. The last thing I remember before blacking out is shouting, "I LOVE FOOD!" with two large plates in front of me. I definitely don't remember the food going in. Black out. Next thing I know I'm lying on the lawn amongst other digesting volunteers grabbing my belly shouting, "I'm never eating again!" Friends roll their eyes, "By 6 tonight Mere, you'll be stuffing your face again." I crawl my way back to the table, suck in my gut, focus on breathing, and try to act at least semi professional amongst the VIPs of Swaziland. One of the ambassador's minions, a young man in his thirties- attractive, comes over and sits next to me. He introduces himself along with some title of importance- that quickly leaves my brain- something to do with traveling, learning lots of languages, and a big fancy pay check. He has two little ADORABLE girls with him. "Their MOTHER is back in the States. It's JUST me and them." I think he mentioned "their mother" back in the States three times in five minutes. We get it, you're single.

I realize he chose the only table full of young ladies. "You ladies are welcome to come over anytime- my home (mansion) is close to here. I have wifi and I can cook..... I go ball room dancing during my spare time.....OH I need to go change my daughter's dirty diaper. I'll be back." Female PCV's heads huddle together . "Oh my god Vanessa! We are so hooking you two up. He is pretty cute. And his girls.. ADORABLE! Not afraid to change a dirty diaper..."

I'm making this guy out to be a total schmoozer (one who schmooooozes over the ladies) but I do appreciate one thing he said. "You know I spent a few years in Germany... I was all about integrating, wouldn't be caught dead hanging out with Americans. But you know, it's ok to hang out with people from America. You're a PCV in Swaziland, yes, we get it. But you don't have to be Swazi..." It made me think of how overly dedicated a volunteer can get to integrating and "roughing it". During IST so many of us were complaining we just want to get back to site. Sometimes it's hard for us to admit- we enjoy a warm shower, mansions with pools, and talking with Americans. As "soft corps" as that sounds.

Our overwhelming ten days are over. I don't even remember saying goodbye to anyone. We were free to go and suddenly we were gone. I hadn't really slept in ten days. Ten days of I can't miss anything, people are talking till 2 in the morning so I must join them. People are up at 5 in the morning talking, I must join in. I can barely keep my eyes open now. My heart beating slowly beating loud inside my chest. The hustle and bustle of Manzini is in slow motion now.

And it's the end of the month. The last weekend, the last bus. And I don't care. Gogo's and babies run to get on. I slowly drag my feet towards the bus, bouncing off of others. I'm herded and jostled inside this big machine. I have a seat next to the aisle. Next to big Gogo by the window. She'll be safe there. My head falls foward then back. My eyes open then close. People keep piling in. A mother with a baby on her back, a bag of rice in one arm, a child in the other. There might have been something large balancing on her head- I don't know. Without even thinking or looking up, I grab the toddler and place him on my lap. She thanks me. Sweat pouring down my face and back. Shoved close to fat Gogo. I lie my head on her shoulder, or is it a breast? I can fight it no longer. My eyes close. Toddler sucks on his thumb and plays with my hair. Wrapping a braid around his fat little finger. His eyes shut. We doze off together. I hear chickens screeching, babies cyring, men shouting, 150 people are being josstled around as I sleep now on Gogo's breast and a toddler on mine.

Next thing I know, I feel a nudge on my shoulder. "Simphiwe, wake up. You are home." Gogo next to me laughs, "You are Swazi now."