All the Single Ladies

This past Sunday, I attended one of the most significant annual cultural events in the Kingdom of Swaziland—the Umhlanga, or Reed Dance. As accurately described on Wikipedia, it consists of the following:

An annual Swazi and Zulu tradition held in August or September. Tens of thousands of unmarried and childless Swazi/Zulu girls and women travel from their villages to participate in the eight-day event. In Swaziland they gather at the Queen Mother's royal village, which currently is Ludzidzini Royal Village, while Nongoma is the site of the royal reed dance in Zululand.
After arriving at the Queen Mother's royal residence, or Enyokeni Palace in Zululand, the women disperse the following night to surrounding areas and cut tall reeds. The following night they bundle them together and bring them back to the Queen Mother to be used in repairing holes in the reed windscreen surrounding the royal village. After a day of rest and washing the women prepare their traditional costumes consisting of a bead necklace, rattling anklets made from cocoons, a sash, and skirt. Many of them carry the bush knife they used to cut the reeds as a symbol of their virginity.
Today's Reed Dance ceremony developed in the 1940's and 50's from the Umcwasho custom where young girls were placed in age regiments to ensure their virginity. Once they reached the age of marriage they would perform labor for the Queen Mother followed by dancing and a feast. The official purpose of the annual ceremony is to preserve the women's chastity, provide tribute labor for the Queen Mother, and produce solidarity among the women through working together.
The women sing and dance as they parade in front of the royal family as well as a crowd of spectators, tourists and foreign dignitaries. After the parade, groups from select villages take to the center of the field and put on a special performance for the crowd. The King's many daughters also participate in the Umhlanga ceremony and are distinguished by the crown of red feathers in their hair.

I was scheduled to attend a weeklong training in Pigg’s Peak in northern Swaziland (which just means all of an hour’s drive from Mbabane!). It had been planned to begin on Monday, the public holiday in honor of the Reed Dance, so my only options were to attend Sunday’s festivities or miss out completely. In fact, as luck would have it, Sunday is the day when the women present the reeds, so I saw that stage of the ceremony as well as some bare-breasted dancing. I have a feeling that somehow this cultural event is fortunately a fairly well kept secret, because I can’t figure out why my guy friends didn’t know about this and try to schedule a visit to Swaziland in time for the big event.

The other significant part of the ceremony is that the king uses this ceremony to choose another wife—although some years he does not pick one, and usually it is pre-determined well before the ceremonial week. I refrained from participating, and thus gave up a chance to be the king’s 15th wife (and launch an internal pro-democracy coup from within the monarchy in the spirit of my dear father—sorry, PapaLo). However, there were three participants who were not Swazi—one white girl and two Asian girls (although the latter two were clothed on top). In any case, I hear that it is quite a process to be able to participate, and I am not up to that challenge.

All in all, it was a perfectly pleasant event, especially since after a few minutes surrounded by thousands of young women (the claim was that 60,000 attended) the lack of female attire loses it shock value (although I will say that the thick middle aged men dressed in only cloth-bound skirts was more disconcerting for me by far). The sounds of singing and the sights of dancing and elaborate outfits and swaying reeds were interesting for at least a few hours. There were also many adorable little girls dressed to the nines. Apparently some of the costumes, such as the beaded skirts are very expensive (the information booth told me that at one point they were tied to the price of a cow), and so they are passed down through families.

Who knows how long the ceremony went on Sunday night or again on Monday? I do not, but I’m glad I got to take in a little Swazi culture for an afternoon.

Hiking 101

I needed it. It’s not that I’ve never hiked before (a two-week trip to Colorado in high school, more than a few trips up Humpback Rock during college, jungle treks during my year abroad before b-school), but it sure has been a while since I took a good long hike. Thus, my first performance in Swaziland was admittedly less than stellar.

A big group of expats had been out on Friday night, at a benefit concert at House on Fire (a cool music venue--think House of Blues, but in the middle of fields and mountains in the valley outside Mbabane). I probably did not return home until 2am, so when a 9am wake-up call for a hike the following (ahem, later that) day was proposed. Me? On a Saturday?? Seemed highly unlikely, but I managed to drag myself out of bed. A group of 6 of us started out from the backyard of one expat’s house (one which put my darling little cottage to shame—the places here are lovely and have the views to match), which sits just opposite Sibebe, the largest exposed granite rock in the world. We trekked some yellowed grassy fields towards the mountains strewn with boulders, rising out of the ash and soot of grasses burned by the clearing of winter grasses. The air was thick with dust and ash kicked up as we maneuvered up the slope. That and the altitude got the best of me, and just 15 minutes later, I was huffing and puffing, and very much bringing up the rear of the group.

But about an hour later (for me, perhaps 15 minutes behind most of the others), I reached the boulders perch on top of the mountain, and took in a 360 degree view. Completely worth it. After a few photo shoots (Exhibit A):

And snacks, water, and chatting, we made our way back down the slope (much easier!) and walked through the fields past a small series of waterfalls and pools (a must-return once summer fully arrives!).

I felt a bit sore that night, but decided to fight fire with fire. I was up at 9am Sunday morning, this time for a hike in Malolotja—a nature reserve an hour NW of Mbabane. The views were spectacular, and I was assured that they would only be more so in the coming months thanks to summertime. We set out on a trail in search of a large waterfall, and trekking down some boulder-filled mountains and across a small river, promptly lost any trace of a trail. Thus we spent the next one or two hours scrambling through dry and thorny brush, trying to get sure footing on the rocks. We finally arrived at an outcropping that looked out over a waterfall far below. After a snack break, we continued around the mountain to the other side for an even more death-defying view. There were four of us hiking, and I was still lagging towards the back, but it still felt a whole lot better than the day before. On the way back, we spotted more of a trail and ended up returning towards the car much faster than our way out. However, there was still what looked like a wall of small boulders on the final mountainside. The day concluded with a stop at the main lodge for some well-deserved beers matched by a peaceful and stunning view.

Back to Work

As someone who has not worked in 3 (yes, count ‘em, 3) years, and prior worked in the publishing industry, which stressed work-life balance (even if I therefore couldn’t afford much of that life in NY), the transition to Swaziland has included not just cultural adjustment but major lifestyle adjustment. As my parents assessed on the phone the other night, after I had told of my early to bed weekdays and early to hike weekends, it’s very healthy. (As long as you ignore the chicken & chips consumed at least 3 days per week.)

I was surprised at the early work hours, but most employees are at their desk by 8:00am, if not earlier—as attested by the 15-minute rush hour that exists in town from 7:45-8:00am. My boss has been picking me up on her way into town as I’m still carless, so I rouse myself by 7ish and stumble blurry-eyed to the most-wonderful-shower-on-earth-or-at-least-in-this-hemisphere: Super-hot waterfall in an instant—bliss. It’s been quite chilly in the mornings (it’s true, as much as I could not fathom as I packed in the summer heat of DC, Africa does get cold), so I’ve been wearing every layer I brought. My days so far have consisted of meeting with my boss and getting up to speed on all things public health, specifically HIV/AIDS.

My first project is a big one—very interesting and challenging—implementation of a national sample transportation system, a network of 5 trucks and 4 motorcycles that will drive various routes weekly to collect blood samples for testing at major laboratories around the country (most clinics only have the capacity to do routine tests) and then bring the corresponding results back for patients—hopefully improving the rate of accurate diagnoses and resulting in more timely treatment. Swaziland is a small country, with just 1 million people, but 80% of the inhabitants live in rural areas spread across four regions, so coordinating the moving parts of the 160+ clinics is still a lot to assess and coordinate. This project has been in development for nearly 2 years, and implementation is just weeks away.

Wish me luck!

24 Hours in Mozambique

Last Thursday, at a brai (South African for “BBQ”), a co-worker fresh of a previous weekend trip to Mozambique for a Frisbee tournament, proposed a trip to the capital, Maputo, for Friday night. We would be back in Mbabane in time for a big party on Saturday night. I anticipated that this plan was lacking any real follow-through, but packed a few items on Friday morning before running out of my cottage to catch my ride. I really mean just a few items: a sundress and bikini, thrown in a ziplock bag with my toothbrush, as Maputo is much warmer thanks to its coastal locale. But in the office that morning, I asked, “So that was just a joke fueled by a couple of beers?” I was proven wrong. There would be 5 of us heading to Mozambique that evening at 5pm, undertaking the three and a half hour drive.

We departed Mbabane and headed east, crossing the boarder just after dark, after a 40-minute wait for a few single-entry visas. We arrived at our backpackers, Fatima’s, dropped our bags, and made way for dinner, ending up at a local restaurant, Miramar, for some delicious seafood—calamari, prawns, fish and some large draft beers. We went out to a couple clubs around town, ending the night at a tasteful place known as Coconuts. It was packed, and stayed open late, as in NYC late, a novelty coming from sleepy Mbabane.

The next morning we headed to a great breakfast spot, Café Sol, for some excellent Mozambique coffee (brought a bag home with me) and bagels! Then we made way for the beach, which stretches far, far out at low tide. It was a lovely sight, but not the best for swimming, although the waters did not seem the cleanest anyways. But the highlight of the trip still lay ahead. We hopped back in the car and headed over to the fish market in town. A couple of the group had been to the fish market on their last visit and recognized their restaurant hostess, so we joined with her, and she escorted us around the cramped, aromatic market, but we did the bargaining. Not sure how well we really did actually, but we got a good haul of fresh seafood for less than $15/person. There were heaps of fresh, whole fish—bright pink skin, glossy gray—piles of lobsters and crabs, and water-filled bins chock full of prawns and clams. We picked three fish, a couple pounds of clams, a couple dozen prawns, and a one and a half kilogram crab (over three pounds), and walked around the corner to the open-air courtyard surrounded by restaurants and many hawkers selling their wares. About 45 minutes later, out came the freshest steamed clams, followed not long after by garlic/butter prawns, grilled fish, and steamed crab. Along with some large Laurentina Preta (a great dark beer) sitting in the warm sun, I was one happy girl. Then it was time to cram back into the car for the trip away from the sea, back across the border, to peaceful Mbabane.

Sawubona, Swaziland!

Hello--"Sawubona"--from Mbabane, Swaziland, my new home for the next six months! I have been here exactly one week as of today, and am decidedly in that time warp period where it feels like I have been here for months and then again like I only arrived a few hours ago.

After leaving Washington, DC, last Tuesday, I managed a 12-hour layover in London, raced into the city and saw my brother and sister-in-law, a high school friend, and a couple of friends from travels in Vietnam and Brazil, then hightailed it back out to Heathrow Airport to catch my second overnight flight to Johannesburg. From Johannesburg I had one final wisp of a flight--45 minutes in a tiny plane--to reach Matsapha International Airport, which has only one gate and ten flights per day. A coworker came to pick me up from the airport and drove me from the town of Manzini to the capital, Mbabane, (pronounced "Buh-baah-neh") and to our office for a bit (pretty standard but with a great view of rocky green hills surrounding the city. Then my manager whisked me off on a mini-driving tour of Mbabane surroundings and I saw my one potential apartment, by which (going in with some useful "lo" expectations of course) I was very happily surprised.

I have rarely been so decisive, but I think it also helped that I was eager to stop lugging my enormous, heavy suitcase around as soon as possible. But I really love the place: a very clean, bright one bedroom attached to the back of the large house of a local judge, on a property that includes geese, ducks, chickens (delicious organic eggs), a stream and a small swimming pool. Not bad. It is cold here (I mean it, I didn't fully believe my coworkers either, but Africa does get cold), and the heating has not wowed me, but I have 4 TV channels (often playing American movies) and delightful internet that's allowing me to post this, so I'm a happy girl. I'll leave the rest up to the pictures: