Head of Household

(click photos to enlarge)I'll let these photos speak for themselves, except to say that, yes, this family of orphaned children is living on their own, and is now headed by the eleven-year-old girl you see above. They receive one visit a month from the Home-Based Care team Scott works with, and they also receive monthly food packages from World Vision International.

Back to school

One experience I never anticipated having while here (or ever in my life, for that matter) was going back-to-school shopping for kids of my own. Yet that's exactly how I spent my entire morning yesterday. Let me explain...

The new school year begins in Swaziland today, and over the past week, many poor parents (and other child guardians & caretakers -- since so many kids' parents have died) have been desperate to get their children enrolled in school. The primary obstacle, as with so many things here, is lack of money. School here is not free. Everyone must pay school fees. Most primary schools charge around $200 per year, and high school costs around $500 a year. That may not sound too expensive, but in a country where the average income is less than a dollar a day, you can see that those charges put school entirely out of reach for many families.

Many of the other volunteers here pay for one or more student's yearly school fees. Scott and I had decided we would do so as well, but hadn't been approached -- until last Friday. Scott was wrapping up his day making home visits when he came across a particularly desititue family -- both parents dead of AIDS, and their two chilren, a 12-year-old boy, Marcoba, and and 13-year-old girl, Nosipho, are now living with their grandmother, who is herself ill, and their paralyzed uncle. It sounds like something out of Dickens, but it's all true -- and all too common here. Scott called me, and we agreed that this is the family we wanted to support. We got the necessary forms and spent a couple of hours on Saturday morning waiting in line at the local bank to pay the school fees for these two children.

Yesterday morning (Monday), Nosipho was waiting for us at the hospital at 8 a.m. She had probably walked about 3 or 4 miles to get there. We had arranged for her to meet us there so that we could give her the bank receipt verifying for the school that their fees had been paid. They also needed some school supplies, although they are going to make due with their uniforms from last year. Both are very small and slight kids for their ages; they look more like an 8 and a 10 year old than a 12 and 13 year old. Nosipho, the young girl, is shy and reserved, and seems wise and resigned beyond her years. Her brother, Marcoba, is a typical young boy, a bit devilish and charming and eager to show off.

In any event, Nosipho hopped in the car with me to go pick up her brother for a shopping trip in town. She lost a bit of her shyness in the car and gave me expert directions to her homestead, which isn't far from town, but is down many winding dirt roads ending in nothing but a rocky track leading to their home. We picked up Marcoba, who quickly relegated his older sister to the back seat and began telling me how to get back to town. We went to PEP, the local (much smaller) version of Target or Wal-Mart. It was a mad-house. Mothers with their kids in tow, were packed into the store buying back-to-school clothes and supplies. I was the only white person and the only male shopper in the store. Luckily, a kind saleswoman saw me looking lost, and came over and took charge. We ended up with new backpacks, sweaters, socks, underwear, and shoes for the kids. Marcoba wanted to buy everything in sight, but his sister, Nosipho, did a good job restraining him and letting me know what they really needed. After PEP, we went grocery shopping so they had some food to take back to their grandmother, and of course I had to get them some a couple of treats to mark the special day -- for them and for me.

The whole experience raised mixed emotions for me. Of course it felt good to be able to help those two cute kids. I fell in love with both of them, though Nosipho especially captured my heart with her sad, sweet smile. But it also made me feel sad for them that they have to live this way -- and they are among the lucky ones! They found someone to help them, while so many others have to go without. And what will happen to them down the line? There is something very wrong with a system that charges so much for school, asking so much of people who clearly cannot afford to pay. The problems here are immense, and school fees are only part of it. We, like most, are just doing what we can to help those in front of us, and I try to keep that in mind and to be content with that, but the thought of all those who aren't being helped, who can't go to school, who have no food or water, is a constant nagging thought in the back of my mind.

One Reason I'm Here

(click photos to enlarge)

The glimpse of a child on a movie screen played a significant role in bringing me to Swaziland. Scott and I were still considering whether or not we really wanted to come here, when we went to see the documentary film "Without a King" sometime last spring. Towards the end of the film, there is a brief shot of a lost-looking young boy at an orphanage here. One of the king's daughters is distributing food to the orphans, and, when this young boy is given his share, he looks confused and vacant and almost hurt because he is so unused to receiving anything or having anyone notice him at all. His lost look haunted me long after leaving the theater, and whenever I wavered in my resolve about our decision to come here, the thought of the look on that young child's face sustained and strengthened my desire to come here and try to help in some way.

Now, it is the looks of children I have witnessed since we've been here that inspire me: of Thembeline, a 13-year old girl with TB and HIV, who is the only caretaker for her sick and blind grandmother; of a six-month old HIV+ baby, crying weakly because his mouth was so full of thrush; of an eight-year-old boy, Mthobisi, also HIV+, wandering down a muddy road in his pajamas all alone to meet our truck, because his mother was too sick to accompany him -- he wore a look of infinite resignation on his face, and showed only the faintest glimmer of satisfaction when we gave him some candy to suck on while Scott examined him. And last week, at a homestead full of children and HIV and TB, a young adolescent boy, perhaps 13 years old, nattily dressed in a shirt, vest, checked coat, and striped shorts -- all mismatched and ragged and dirty, but still worn with pride and a sense that he had chosen those clothes carefully -- and his wide, toothy, endearing smile, somehow yearning for attention among all those other kids. He wasn't sick, he was just one of a dozen or so children in that family, and I sensed he was a bit lost in the crowd. Whenever I'd catch his eye, he'd smile broadly but shyly shrink into the group of people gathered around the truck. I went over and shook his hand and said hello, but the language barrier kept us from communicating beyond that. All I could do was give him some candy and pat on his shoulder, but his shy smile has stayed on my mind -- all of their looks have stayed on my mind.

For me, a big part of this journey is figuring out how best I can help such kids. As I wrote in my first entry, I believe that even small steps can make some difference. Perhaps my smile and that pat on the back encouraged that young boy in some way that day. I'd like to think so, but I don't know.... I think I'll still be trying to figure it out long after we leave.

Mabuda Farm

(Click photos to enlarge.)
This is our home for the next 11 months. In case you think it looks too grand for medical volunteers, the house is divided into three apartments. The three windows in the right side of the photo are ours. (From left: living room, bedroom, bathroom. There is also a large kitchen at the back of the apartment.) The French doors in the middle are part of another apartment. That said, it is a very nice place to live and we are glad to be here.


The view from our windows down the valley, across southern Swaziland, all the way to South Africa.

Sawubona: To New Beginnings

"Sawubona" means "hello" in Siswati. Welcome to my blog. I've had rotten luck corresponding by regular mail (average delivery time for a letter seems to be about 3-4 weeks) and email is slow and spotty service at best. Scott has had such good luck with his blog (www.scottinswaziland.blogsport.com), that I thought I'd try this method of keeping you all up to date on what and how we're doing from my point of view. If you read both of our blogs you'll end up knowing more about our lives than you did when we lived in New York.

It's hard to believe we've been here for nearly two months now. So much has happened and we've experienced so many new things and met so many new people that I'm not going to try to cover all that we've been through so far. I'm just going to start from where we are, and I hope that over time you'll get a good idea of what life is like for us here.

Today, like most of you, I presume, we are basking in the good feelings from Obama's inauguration yesterday. A group of about 25-30 of us, mostly other volunteers and employees of the hospital, gathered at the Siteki Hotel to watch the festivities from Washington D.C. on CNN. It was a great experience to watch the inauguration with such a diverse crowd. Besides Scott and I and our American volunteer friends Susan, Andrew, and Kristin, also in attendance were Dr. Kalungaro and his wife Valerie, who are from the Congo; our parish priest Father Emmanuel, who is from Uganda; a TB nurse, Wiseman, who is from Zimbabwe; and about 20 Swazis. Everyone applauded loudly throughout Obama's speech, especially when he mentioned his father's village in Africa.

As you might imagine, the Africans are uniformly proud and gratified that the U.S. has chosen an African-American president. Ever since we've arrived here we've been peppered with questions about Obama and how he came to be elected. Because African politics are so based on tribalism and watching out for one's own, most Africans can't quite believe that a majority white nation would elect a racial minority candidate. One man asked me "What will happen to the southern states now? Will Obama punish them for not voting for him?" I explained that it doesn't work quite that way in the U.S., but I don't think he bought it. Some of the locals also play devil's advocate a bit -- as if not wanting to seem too biased for an African-American candidate. So I've heard a surprising amount of support for both Bush and McCain as "strong men." One man told me he supported Obama, but he is worried about Obama's policy toward Asia. I don't really know much about Obama's Asia policy, but I told him not to worry too much, that Obama will deal with Asia fairly.

All in all, I'd say it's a good time to be an American abroad, especially in Africa. Scott and I brought a lot of Obama memorabilia with us -- caps, calendars, political buttons -- and they've been a big hit. They've helped smooth our way out of more than one tricky spot. When Swazi customs didn't want to let us in the country without more documentation than we had for the medical supplies we brought with us, we distributed a few Obama caps and the customs officials grew much more friendly and amenable. Likewise when we went to establish electric service for our house at the deaf school: an Obama calendar greased the wheels of what could have been a bureaucratic nightmare, and it is now front and center in the waiting room of the electric company headquarters.

Everyone seems aware that Obama won't change things overnight and that slow steps are required. That attitude pretty much mirrors what Scott and I are experiencing on a personal level here. We know we're not going to change much in this thoroughly -- to us -- dysfunctional system. Nonetheless, it feels good to be part of the broad movement of volunteerism Obama has spoken of, and to be contributing our own small part toward creating change and helping some truly needy people here.