The three older girls on our hike in August. The valley Kit and I explored is behind them. Grace's expression matches how I feel up there near Sibebe.

Merry Christmas 2011

Hello again!
WORDS OF HOPE
No, this is not an early plug for the Obama re-election campaign. We keep a notebook for each of the girls, writing milestones and other anecdotes in them. Perhaps we'll give them to the girls when they turn 18, or get married, or something. They make good reading, because we include funny things they inadvertently say. Hope (Kit, Ntombikayise, the third child) is in a stage where she says really funny things. Examples forthwith:

While walking in town with dad, on the way to meet mom:
Hope: "I know where mommy is."
Dad: "Where?"
Hope: "Somewhere else."

"Mom, there's lions out there. I have to shoot those lions with my sword."

While learning to ride a bicycle:
"It is hard to ride a bicycle side-saddle."
"Does this [left] pedal control the back wheel, and this [right] pedal control the front wheel?"

While spreading the rice around in her bowl:
"Mommy, I'm spreading this out like a crocodile."

While observing a watch placed on Ruth's stomach, which Faith (Cub) suddenly moved:
"You're taking off my TV!"

While playing with fridge magnets with religious images on them:
"Dad, do you know why I like these pictures? Because they have pictures on them."

While flossing their teeth, Grace and Cub shout "Kit's eating dental floss!"
Kit: "It has nice things in it. It has frosting. People like to eat it."

Sung while sweeping the kitchen:
"The farmer takes a [forgot what was in the middle, but it ended with] high-ho dairy-o the farmer takes a 'frigerator."

At church, upon noticing a chicken in a plastic bag:
"That chicken's moving; that chicken's movin' in the bag. That chicken's gonna get cooked."

"Do you know how I make my cheeks bigger? I drink Coca-cola and it makes my cheeks puff out."

In conversation with Cub:
"That's not fair! I have more than you, and you have more than me."

"Mommy, I'm a monkey. Do you know how? I'm eating a banana. That makes me a monkey."

"With popcorn you can be a chameleon, but not with cereal." (The girls sometimes get food into their mouths by picking it off the table/plate/bowl with their tongues. This works with popcorn but not with corn flakes.)

While getting out coins to do organizing:
"Now I get my nickles and dime-ond-back rattlesnakes."

While Ruth was burping Jabulile and the other three girls were playing, Hope said:
"I have a game: you crawl under mommy and try not to get spittied-up on."

"Mommy, it's like a waterfall when the tea starts up here (pointing to mouth) and floods down to here (pointing to stomach). It's like a tea fall."

Hope: "Mom is going to chop my fingernails, so I don't scratch my bugbites."
Rudy: "Okay."
Hope: "I'm going to make a collage with my fingernails."

Hope: "Can we feed Jabulile raisins?"
Mom: "No."
Hope: "Why not?" (in a whiny tone)
Mom: "Because she doesn't have any teeth."
Hope: "But..." (here Ruth interrupts) with "Kit, do you think I know anything about babies?"
Hope: (With an open-faced and honest look) "No."

I won't give you more, for fear of inducing the "endless family slide show" syndrome. If you have young children in the house, consider buying a small notebook and jotting down the funny things they say. They make great re-reads on rainy days.

Swakhile (largest kid) and Sakhiwo (his sister) Dlamini, children of teacher N.M. Dlamini.
Our three oldest: from the front, Kit, Cub, Grace.

FORETASTES OF HEAVEN
A couple weeks ago I took two trips towards Sibebe-one with Cub (where we went to the top of Sibebe, down into Pine Valley, and spent the night with friends) and another one where Kit and I went to the intake for the community water system to tweak it. The intake is near Sibebe. Kit and I went only for the day, but we took a great little side-trip into a valley I've admired many times but had not (until this day) visited. I'll fail miserably to convey to you the joy I feel hiking in those areas, but I want to note it anyway. It is so peaceful and natural and quiet (no electricity yet) and filled with rocks and grass and streams and birds (and occasional snakes-that's not so great) and paths which go who-knows-where...on trips like those with Cub and Kit all my concerns about the world melt away for a few hours and I feel a steady surge of satisfaction and enthusiasm. I'm sure it's not on the scale of seeing Christ face to face and hearing Him say "Enter in to the joy of your Master", but that's the closest comparison that comes to mind. I hope you have a place like that too.



GHOST TOWNS
Kit and I took a hike last week to "the saddle", a high point from which one can look down on the school on one side and onto the former principal's house (M.K. Dlamini's) on the other. We had thought to drop in for a visit on M.K. if he were available, but he was not. We were disappointed not to see him, but the walk was great.

We got chased off the saddle by threatening weather; we heard thunder, and high-tailed it to lower elevations. The rain didn't start falling until we were well out of danger and could stick our heads (and bodies) into homesteads for cover. We shared our first shelter-a half-finished building-with a mom and a little boy. After 20 minutes the rain stopped and we continued our trip home, but the clouds in the west (where the big storms come from) were very dark and carried lightning with them. Time to find another hideout! We approached a nice set of buildings and issued the customary greetings, but no one answered. With nasty weather on the way Kit and I quickly moved to the next homestead and found a mom and young girl willing to take us in. Thank goodness for them, as the downpour began about 5 minutes after we got inside. We explained to our hostess that we had stopped at the homestead next door and found no one there. She said everyone from that homestead had died, and that another homestead just up the hill was also abandoned for the same reason. It's painful that whole multi-generation compounds are now vacant because everyone has died.

ARVs
This is the acronym for "Anti-Retroviral" medicines. I chatted with the parish priest in Mbabane a couple months ago on a Saturday morning. He said he was just back from a funeral (remember, the vigil runs from dusk to dawn, with burial at dawn), and I said "I'm sorry". He said this death was not a surprise, as (I think) it was of an old person. The priest also said that with ARVs people are living longer-which means he is not burying as many young people as he used to. Put side by side with our "ghost town" experience, maybe things are bottoming out and will improve. I do not say this with any authority-it's just an idea.

BUNDU BABYSITTERS
"Bundus" is the southern African term for "the sticks". With school break (basically, summer vacation) in full swing, we have lots more discretionary time than usual. We thought we would offer babysitting services to friends in town-namely, take their kids for a few days and give mom and dad some quieter time together. From the 15th to the 17th, we had Mary, Marcellino, and Emmanuel Rugumambaju. These kids are from Uganda, the children of Lawrence and Winile Rugumambaju. They arrived mid-day Thursday and stayed until early Saturday morning. I took the boys ( Marcellino and Emmanuel) for an hour hike in the nearby hills on Thursday. As with Kit, the weather cut our outing short. The next day, though, all the Poglitshs and all 3 Rugumambaju kids with us spent 6 1/2 hours walking to a nearby waterfall and back. The kids all held up very well, and everyone had a great time. Everyone also slept like rocks that night, which I think is one of the most valuable things we can do for the children. I think of it as our "ministry of exhaustion". Early Saturday morning we piled the 3 kids and Rudy into a kombi and got them back to their parents.

On Monday morning the 19th, Steve and Monica Allen (American friends who live in Mbabane) dropped off daughter Lacie and son Nathan with us. Lacie stayed with Ruth, Grace, Kit and Jabu, while Nathan (3 years old) joined Cub, Mncobi (5 year old son of a teacher) and Rudy on another waterfall hike. We went slow and stopped whenever we wanted to play. This trip took 9 hours. I was astonished at how well the kids held up. I heard only one complaint the whole trip: one kid said to me (through another kid) that his toes were hurting. We were walking downhill in hour 8; I cannot call this whining. Both Allen kids are sleeping now. This has been fun; I hope we get to do it again for these and other parents.


BASE JUMPER
In the context of high-octane entertainment, "BASE" jumping is an acronym referring to jumping from Buildings, Aerials (antennas), Spans (bridges), and Earth. I have no idea what jumping from earth to earth entails, but the other three encompass throwing oneself off high perches with a parachute and hoping one lands safely.

We share our house with scads of earwigs. They look ferocious, but have only given us problems once-when one hid itself in Ruth's asthma inhaler. In the middle of the night, a sleepy Ruth used the inhaler and sucked the earwig a short distance down her throat. She was coughing it out when it bit her tongue with its pinchers. She jumped out of bed with stories about tropical parasites which crawl up your throat dancing in her head and was relieved to find such a mundane explanation for her discomfort. But she always approaches her inhaler with a little more caution now. I usually brush them off the doorframes when I pass by, as they are a little unsightly. They simply fall the 60 inches or so to the floor, sit there for a few seconds, then walk off.

I wondered, recently, just what a 60 inch fall for an insect roughly half an inch long means in human terms. It means falling a distance 120 times your own height onto solid concrete and walking off without a bruise. For someone 5 feet 6 inches tall, that means a plummet of 660 feet: just over 6 1/2 football fields, or about 66 stories, onto the sidewalk and living to tell about it. My respect for earwigs has risen considerably; they do this freefall without a parachute.

TOMMY WORLD
For some reason I occasionally come across and read a book by Tom Peters, management guru and author of the seminal work In Search of Excellence. A couple years ago I read his book Re-Imagine!, wherein he suggested that business environments should be looser, more spontaneous, less predictable, and generally more off the cuff, for the sake of originality and innovation. I wonder, does he run his successful consulting business that way?

I also thought about his suggestion this past Sunday at church. We assumed Father Maseko would not come, as this was not his normal Sunday to do so; but we thought maybe he would, because he had not come on the regular date. So the congregation continued to practice songs for a while as we waited. Make Khanyile came and told me we should just go ahead, and wondered if I would lead the service. Ok, it's Tommy World time. "Ah, Mr. Poglitsh", I can just hear the uber-guru say, "the service should start in 2 minutes. Here's the liturgy in SiSwati (that's not too bad, you've been reading that for a few years now), and here's the Gospel reading in Zulu (a language related to SiSwati, but not really as similar as you've been led to believe). Please read the Gospel aloud at the appropriate time in front of the congregation. Yes, I realize you haven't seen it yet, but you DID read it in SiSwati this morning, right? So, you're a little familiar with it. Now, you also need to come up with a sermon-keep it short, keep your sermon faithful to the reading, make it applicable to our lives today, and use English easily translatable into SiSwati so your friend Godfrey Mubiru can translate it to the congregation on the fly. The topic of the reading? Gabriel's annunciation to Mary that she would be the mother of the Son of God. Theologically freighted, I know, but keep it simple and make sure it's relevant. Here are the books, and the first hymn is underway." Hmmm. Just before the service began I told Ruth "I've had 5 minutes to come up with a sermon. Hey, Tom Peters, come work in my neighborhood and see if you like the taste of your own medicine!" Church did go well, though I'm glad next Sunday is Christmas and SOMEBODY ELSE will lead the worship.

'TIS THE SEASON
Speaking of Christmas, we leave you with this article adapted from a South African pro-life newsletter from last year.

Merry Christmas, from the Poglitshs

A Christmas Story
Professor Pete Tigchelaar at Calvin College (USA) has a story relevant to the Christmas season. For many years, Tigchelaar used a three-month old pre-born baby encased in plastic to explain pre-natal development in his biology class. One day a young female student asked if he still had the model. Tigchelaar said he did, and the student told him an interesting tale.

She said that many years before, her mother had been a student in the professor's biology class. Tigchelaar did not know it, but this student was three months pregnant at the time. The student had already been to a pregnancy clinic, where workers told her about the "products of conception" and the "contents of her uterus." She had made an appointment for an abortion the next day. But when she saw the foetus-with its fingers, eyes, outline of a liver, and other features-she declined the abortion and six months later delivered a girl. "I am that girl", explained the student. "Thank you for my life".

Tigchelaar still gets emotional when he tells the story. "In this season when we celebrate the birth of someone who came to give each of us eternal life," Tigchelaar says, "I am reminded that the unwed Mary would have been the perfect candidate for a similar procedure. I am thankful that her response was, 'I am the Lord's handmaid. Be it to me as you say.'"

In this Christmas season, let us remember and emulate the heroism of Mary in giving her unplanned baby the gift of life. Let us also remember and emulate the heroism of Joseph, who protected and nurtured mother and child through those difficult nine months and beyond. The heroism of these two individuals helped make the world a much richer place. No to abortion; yes to life.

Story from Calvin News, 18 December 2008

Ruth in her Sunday best

Kit and Whiskers

Jabu and Jabu. Jabu Poglitsh was much happier after a service-long sleep.

Hillbilly Princess

Cub and emafohlofohlo

Kit by her waterfall.

Hello again! Hope you are well.

OVCs
This acronym stands for "orphans and vulnerable children". The government and the various school administrations have been at loggerheads over this issue: the government regularly tells the schools to admit all such students, and promises to pay the schools later. The government, like so many around the world today, is close to broke, and so (not surprisingly) the promised money is rarely forthcoming. Saturday's newspaper carried this story reporting that the principals will leave the whole OVC issue for government to sort out. It seems something like an autoimmune reaction when principals and the government argue-one would expect to find them on the same side of issues, but believe me, they are not on this one. About half our students fall into this OVC category. Next year could be interesting!

MORE SCHOOL STUFF
I'm writing on Tuesday morning the 29th; by the time you read this, schools will be closed. This has been the strangest school year in our 9 years here: an exhaustingly-long second term, a third term starting two weeks late, teacher strikes over issues increasingly distant from education (including pay for private security guards and the appointment of supreme court justices), tension between administration and teachers at Nsukumbili, and the constant uncertainty about the government's financial standing (though not a paycheck has been missed). It will be good to be away from this institution for 8 weeks.

RAINS
They have finally come! We went through much of September and October without rain; here in November, it is falling. The lack of quantity is made up for in the way it comes: all-day, steady volumes, not the late-afternoon thundershowers. This slow-and-steady variety is good because the water soaks into the soil and does not 1) just run into the river or 2) cause erosion. It's fun to wake up (before 5AM) to the sound of chickens and tractors. Food's a'comin'!

MABIZO
This is a SiSwati word for people who share the same first name. On Saturday night the 26th, Jabulile spent much of her sleepless night in bed with Ruth and I. This caused some consternation, as Sunday morning featured a Sunday School party at church. Ruth puts lots of effort into these parties, and she had hoped to focus all her energies on keeping the party rolling. The prospect of a sleep-deprived 1 1/2 year old needing constant attention was not a happy one.

Within minutes of the party starting, I passed our youngest daughter to Jabulile Kunene. Jabu stayed with mabizo wahke (her name-mate) happily through the party and the church service, falling asleep in Mrs. Kunene's arms as the liturgy proceeded. What a relief and a blessing! Thank you Make Kunene!
Jabulile and Jabulile before church (Jabu Poglitsh's unhappy countenance improved after a service-long sleep)

SUNDAY BEST
Here is a photo of Ruth taken on Sunday at church. Note the clothes melange: stylized traditional African dress, headscarf (appropriate for married women), and ECHO nail pouch (for Kleenex and her watch with a broken band). She is standing in front of the church door; this mud-and-rock building was completed in the 1960s and though it is showing some signs of age, 40+ years is pretty good for mud block. The car belongs to our friends the Mubirus.


DISCOTEQUE
With the advent of the rainy season, our power supply becomes less steady; we are at the very end of an old electrical line, so a storm in the Ezulwini valley (18 miles away) can knock out our power. One recent evening the lights were brightening and dimming, as through a child got hold of a dimmer switch; I anticipated a blackout, and was thinking what I would have to do to get the house reasonably lit. As if on cue, Grace told me that Stan Mamba was welding next door. His tool-box size welder draws so much current it affects the volume of electricity in our wires. In the States one occasionally goes next door to borrow a cup of sugar; here, neighbors borrow amperes of electricity.

THRILL ISSUES
A week ago I took our girls and Yenzie to the river to play. One of the neatest parts of the river is a large rock area with a "rapids" next to it. Kit got too close to the rapids and, stepping on a wet part of the rock (which is extremely slippery) fell in. This happened while I was looking another way; the shouts of the other girls alerted me and I ran after her. Kit went feet-first down the whitewater; when she stopped in a pool I grabber her under the armpit and pulled her out. I had no idea what to expect: gashes, broken bones, spluttering water out of her lungs all passed through my mind. She was absolutely unhurt. She didn't even cry, though she did lay on the rock like a wet dishrag and neither spoke nor played again that day. I am so grateful to God that she was unhurt. Here's a photo of her next to the rapids. She was, as you might guess, reluctant to get close to the water for this photo. I also attach a short video, wherein Kit describes her experience.
Kit and her whitewater

Kit is also learning how to ride a bicycle. Her favorite part is returning to the house after a session at the soccer field, where we go down a slight incline and back through the school gate. She likes me to hold her steady and let the bike build up speed. This gives her an increasingly-fast and bumpy ride. She laughs along the way. I hold the handlebars both to steer (she's not steady enough to do this downhill alone yet) and to apply the brakes; though she can steer pretty well on flat ground, her hands aren't big enough to keep her going in the right direction and grab the brake handles simultaneously. She's an adventurous spirit!

SPELLING BEE
More about Kit-part of Grace and Cub's homeschooling is (not surprisingly) spelling, and part of learning to spell is a spelling bee Ruth devised. One day this week Kit (one of whose nicknames is "Bee"; I think we picked it up from a friend who calls one of his kids this) wanted to join in. She spelled almost a dozen three-letter words correctly, like her big sisters! Between biking, whitewater rafting (without the raft) and spelling, we have a precocious (and unpretentious) 4 year old in our house!

KIT PART THREE
Here are two photos of her. I like the one on the left for the combination of the taffeta-like dress and the hiking boots; she's my hillbilly princess. The photo of Kit with our cat Whiskers is nice, too; I like how they both wear black and white.




KING SIZE JUNK FOOD
Here's Cub with the 2-kilogram bag of emafohlofohlo (the SiSwati word for "crunchy snacks"; the word is the Swazi interpretation of the sound they make as you chew them). These were enjoyed at the Sunday School party on the 27th. Cub is just under four feet tall. Everything about Africa is BIG.




SIGN OF THE TIME
Yesterday evening Ruth asked Grace what she and the other kids were playing. Grace explained they were playing "toyi-toyi", a term describing how protesters (civil servants, soccer fans, probably some folks at the upcoming climate conference in Durban) excitedly hop in place, sing, walk, etc. to show their displeasure and make their demands. Ruth asked them what they were toyi-toying about; Grace said they were saying "We want our money!" It is amazing how children mimic their elders.

WHISKERS 2: BOSOM BUDDIES
Just as Jabu wanders off occasionally and we have to search for her, so does Whiskers the cat occasionally vanish off the family radar screen and must be sought. One evening this week that happened. Cub returned from her bedroom with a sleepy cat in her arms, explaining that she found Whiskers sleeping on the chest of a sleeping Jabulile in the crib. Whiskers is a great cat.

CONVERSATIONS
We occasionally take some of our dinner to the night-watchman at the gate and share a little conversation. We figure that 12 hours in a little hut beside the school gate through the dead of night is pretty boring, and we can help with some food and kind words. One evening I approached the guard hut and found the door open but the lights off. Upon closer inspection I found Jabulani Gama sitting at the desk inside. I asked him in SiSwati, "Jabulani, why are you sitting in the dark?" He responded in SiSwati, "With the lights on the insects fly in." This is hardly riveting conversation, but the fact that he and I conducted it entirely in SiSwati-with me knowing what I was saying and what he was saying almost effortlessly-felt really good.

Last Saturday Cub and I went to Mbabane. On the kombi ride out of town, we passed a church enjoying some sort of celebration: everyone, young and old, was dressed nicely as they milled around outside the church. One of the church children looked at the kombi and said "Umlungu!" Umlungu means "white person". A former Nsukumbili student sat in front of Cub and I, and I said in SiSwati "Where is the umlungu?" The former student replied in SiSwati, "There is no umlungu here." The folks on the kombi laughed, and I got another warm fuzzy for language.

Sala kahle ("stay well"),
Rudy for the gang

Africa Dispatch
November 12, 2011
Hello again! It's a pleasure to share our experiences once more. Writing these newsletters has been one of theunexpected pleasures of living in Swaziland.
MZWANDILE
Financial Management
You may remember the name Mzwandile Nkambule. When we arrived in 2003, Ruth wisely decided to ask theprevious headmaster, M.K. Dlamini, for the names of genuinely needy widows in the community. He identifieda widow living close to the school, who had two grandsons staying with her. One of those grandsons wasMzwandile. Mzwandile finished school in 2009 and after an extended stint with a vegetable retailer, enteredpolice college. We attended his pass out just a few weeks ago and told you about it in this newsletter. Mzwandile visited one evening recently and shared with Rudy some financial concerns. #1 issue: Three men (calling themselves prophets) whom his mom had become acquainted with were directing him how to disburse
his church tithe. First, Mzwandile explained, they told him he needed to give it to a certain church. Later they said he needed to give it to a particular pastor. Finally, they said he needed to give it to them. Chickzo (Mzwandile's nickname) explained that he had lent these guys 200 Emalangeni to buy a refrigerator and they had not returned the loan. Chickzo was confused as to what to do. I was not. "Mzwandile, let me pass you a bit of advice my dad passed to me: If it doesn't smell good, it isn't going to taste good. This situation doesn't smell good." I told him he didn't need to give these guys his tithe, and that he should do what he had planned to do-give it to a local church he has had contact with in the past. Money issue #1 settled.
Money issue #2: "Mr. Poglitsh, since I passed out of police college I have received phone calls from people I have not heard from in many years, so much in fact that I am considering getting a different phone number." Ah yes, Chickzo has hit the salary jackpot and all those folks are showing great interest in him. I explained that he now has a well-paying, steady government job and it is no surprise that others would like a piece of his newfound pie. I told him to come by some evening for dinner and a 1 or 2-hour financial seminar. Ruth is very wise with money, and we could help him get some sound financial principles and practices in hand. We hope to
see him sometime, not only about money but also about a...
New Arrival
A week or so after this discussion, a young lady with a baby on her back came to the house before school. She had been sent by Benele, Mzwandile's brother, to take some of their chicken from our freezer (they don't have electricity at their house, so we're glad to share freezer space). We asked if she is visiting the homestead; she said yes. She explained that she is also a recent Nsukumbili school finisher, and that the baby on her back is Mzwandile's. Ah. How old is the child? 9 months. Well, you both look very healthy. Here's the chicken, and have a nice day.
Get the phone and text a message to Chickzo-"Mzwandile, we just met a young lady with a baby on her back, and she says the baby is yours. Is there something you would like to tell us?" We haven't heard from him yet. Maybe he did change his cell phone number. Recently Mzwandile said we are like family to him. It's a bit of a shock, as "family", to not know that your "son" is not only seeing someone but is now a father. Perhaps we should have placed more emphasis on the
word "like" than on the word "family". We related this story to the Mubirus, our good friends from church. They said that in African culture often times such things are not mentioned. We told the Mubirus about our text message and the continuing non-response; they said perhaps Mzwandile was offended. The third Peace Corps objective comes to mind: share your culture
with host nationals. If Chickzo is offended, so am I. To not be let in on this development is a disappointment.
GOOD NEIGHBORS
With four daughters 9 and under, sometimes we lose track of a kid. Jabu is particularly adept at slipping off the radar screen. Just about dusk one recent evening, Ruth said "Rudy, where's Jabu?" I said I thought she was in bed-she wasn't. The hunt was on. We checked around the house, we started over towards the school, we started to worry...and then we found her at Sinathemba's house (Sinathemba is Stan Mamba's daughter). That is now the first place we look when we can't find her. It's sure a nice situation when your 18 month old can wander out of
the house and be found in good hands.

WHISKERS/WWF
Ruth and I have discussed getting a cat if the Ministry of Education gives me a contract. I've started the paper chase to get next year's contract, but 2 weeks ago I walked into the house and found the girls cooing over a black and white kitten. We had leaked word of our interest in a cat, and Happy Gama (a former student from the 1990s who now runs a day care and teaches our girls SiSwati) caught wind of it. She has cats at her homestead and brought one with her that day. "Whiskers" is a great cat, and is especially good with Jabu. We have frequently found Jabulile suspending the cat by her tail or a paw, and the cat has not screetched, scratched,
bitten, or anything. Sometimes Jabu holds the cat to her chest with two arms, then lifts her over her head and holds her against the back of her neck. I'm just waiting for her to slip and fall, and with the cat in one of these compromised positions, it's gonna look like a World Wrestling Federation piledriver. We frequently hear the older girls shrieking "JABU!!"; they run over and rescue poor Whiskers. Still, the cat hasn't run away, and still likes us to play with her.

LITSEMBA ALIBULALI-"Hope does not kill"
Last Friday I put Jabu on my back and went for an afternoon bicycle constitutional. While approaching Mdlunkhulu Primary School we rode up behind a 60-something year old man walking with a boy probably 5 or 6 years old. The man wore traditional Swazi clothes, and the boy was carrying a plastic grocery bag suspended by a knobkerrie (traditional Swazi walking/fighting stick). At one point the grandfather reached over and put his hand on the head of the boy. With fathers largely absent in family life, it was exhilarating to see (what appeared
to be) trans-generational male mentoring. I wish I had had a camera on me, but the image is etched in my mind. Perhaps there's still hope for strong Swazi families.
INSECT WEBINARS
Attached are two short videos discussing tinhlwa (flying ants) and sihlongololo (millipede-kinda things). Let Yenzie and the girls introduce you to two of the most familiar species of Swazi insects. Sorry the tinhlwa video is dark; I shot it with our Mavica at night, and it doesn't do too well in low-light conditions.
WETLANDS WRECKLAMATION
Sunday 6 November was my 44th birthday. What better way to celebrate it than with a walk to church, getting to sit with my wife during the service, getting a lift home with the Mubirus, then draining an unattended irrigation tank in the school garden to stem the mosquito explosion! Yep, Cub and I somehow wandered into the garden and decided to see which tanks might be harboring nascent bloodsuckers. We found two. We dumped cooking oil into one of them. We went to the second one and found it had two or three times the mosquito population that the first tank did. We also found a hole near the bottom of this second tank. We ran back to the houses and found a green garden hose which fit right into the hole and into the water. I got on the other end (slightly downhill from the tank) and GENTLY AND CARFULLY sucked on the hose. Without getting any of whatever muck was in that tank into my mouth, the water level began to fall. We got a goodly amount of water out without any more effort, but by the time the hose started sucking mud in its initial location and the siphon was broken, too much
water remained for my comfort. We used sticks and our hands to move the muck around so that the water pooled into one location. We moved the hose into that location, and I once again took up my position at the other end of the hose. I tried to be even more careful this time when starting the siphon, because the hose had had gross water running through it. I had to suck harder, though, because there was less water and it was thicker with mud.

I wasn't careful enough.

I got a quarter-mouthful of grit and who-knows-what behind my teeth. I spit like crazy, went to the water faucet with "clean" (right from the mountain) water in it and rinsed my mouth, and continued to spit. After Cub and I were satisfied the tank was as empty as we could get it, we went home and I rinsed for 1 minute with antiseptic mouthwash, then brushed my teeth thoroughly. I'm showing no ill-effects yet, but I'm not sure the mental scarring will ever go away. It's not that bad, really, but it sure is nasty to think about what chemical and biological crud I had in my mouth for a moment. It was worth it, though; the tank we poured oil into shows no
sign of living mosquitoes at any stage of development, and the tank we siphoned has only dirt in the bottom.
Success.
POPULATION ISSUES
Recently the United Nations Fund for Population Activity (UNFPA) marked the advent of 7 billion inhabitants on planet earth. The UNFPA country director published a piece in the Times of Swaziland, and I wrote one back. I don't know if mine got published, but both are included here. Have a nice day, Rudy for the gang.

Population and Contraception

On Tuesday 19 October Dr. Hassan Mohtashami of UNFPA wrote in the Times "it is critical that Swaziland [strengthen] its family planning interventions. It is more critical against the backdrop of the HIV pandemic which has doubled this country's mortality rates."
"Family planning" always means smaller families and fewer people. How then is family planning the appropriate response to doubled mortality rates? In November of last year, the Times printed a story reporting on the most recent (2007) census. The census indeed found that Swaziland's death rate had doubled since the 1997 headcount. In addition, the census discovered that fertility had fallen over the previous decade-meaning fewer babies were being born. The census also found that infant mortality rate climbed from 78 deaths per 1000 live births in 1997 to 107 deaths per live births in 2007. The report concluded: "If this trend is allowed to continue,
the population of Swaziland will soon be declining at an alarming rate". It does not seem that overpopulation is a live concern for Swaziland at this time.
Near the end of his piece Dr. Mohtashami says: "This requires extensive community mobilisation, political support, increased funding for family planning programmes, a massive expansion of services and increased availability and accessibility to the various contraceptive methods." Those calls for "increased funding" and "massive expansion" make me wonder-who will pay for all that? We daily read about the local and global financial crises. The Swazi government is not awash in cash; neither are most nations around the world. My
home country, the United States, is itself about 14 trillion dollars ($14,000,000,000,000) in debt. I cannot imagine the citizens of any nation, with their own country struggling under massive debt loads, getting excited about their government giving lots of money to increase contraception and family planning in distant lands.
Dr. Mohtashami concludes: "We should try to ensure family planning is still a national priority in most developing countries." I wonder if he wishes developing countries like Swaziland to walk the path more developed countries have. A little background information will help us understand population dynamics. In order for a country to maintain its population, each woman must bear, on average, 2.1 children. If this number (called the fertility rate) gets larger, the population will grow; if it falls, the population will shrink. No European nation today reaches the 2.1 figure. These nations are depopulating themselves because they are not having children. As the number of pensioners rises as compared to the number of young and working people, taxes on
those young people grow. As these working moms and dads feel the pinch of increased taxes, they tend to have fewer children because they have less money (due to higher taxes) to support children. The trend reinforces itself (fewer children, more old people, higher taxes, fewer children, etc.), and the populations of nations plummet. Recently Walter Rademacher of the German Federal Statistics Office said "The fall in the population can no longer be stopped".
Is a smaller population a good thing? Is population a brake on prosperity? One might think the answer is "yes" to both these questions. After all, a libodlo (cooking pot) contains only so much liphalishi (corn mush). Surely if there are more people around the pot, each person will get less and ultimately, if there are too many people, some will go hungry.
In 1996, Professor Julian Simon wrote an article entitled "More People, Greater Wealth, More Resources, Healthier Environment". In it he concluded "Population growth does not lower the standard of living-all the evidence agrees. And the evidence supports the view that population growth raises it in the long run. Incidentally, it was those statistical studies that converted me in about 1968 from working in favor of population control to the point of view that I hold today. I certainly did not come to my current view for any political or religious or ideological reason."
Dr. Mohtashami explains that the Cairo conference in 1994 "replaced the dominant demographic-economic rationale for family planning programmes with a broader agenda of women's empowerment and sexual and reproductive health and rights". A few observations about the 1994 Cairo conference are in order. George Wiegel relates that "On September 5 [at the conference], Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto of Pakistanunmistakably a woman, unmistakably Harvard-educated, and unmistakably a major political figure-took to the
rostrum during the opening statements to defend the 'sanctity of life' and to condemn the Cairo draft document for trying to impose 'adultery, sex education...and abortion on all countries.'" It didn't sound to Prime Minister Bhutto like Cairo had "women's empowerment" in mind. Dr. Janet Smith explains that the Cairo conference sought to make aid to developing countries dependent on those countries installing population control programs. In an address delivered during but not at the conference, Dr. Smith said: "The women delegates to the UN are
outraged by this. They find it insulting and demeaning; like their being treated like breed cows. What they want is better pre-natal care. What they want is better medical care, more access to education and food for their children that's not tied to contraceptive programs." Again, the representatives of the would-be recipients were not convinced Cairo cared much for their empowerment. Thanks to widespread concern from various NGOs, some of the most demeaning and anti-life language (including "pregnancy termination"-that is, abortion-as part
of "reproductive health care") never made it into the final Cairo documents.
So what about women's health and contraception? Is contraception the way to healthier women and moms? Research shows that in Africa, condoms are rarely used in long-term relationships, as couples believe they signify distrust of the partner. The next obvious alternative is the female oral contraceptive pill. By taking a tablet a day, a woman can render herself almost entirely infertile indefinitely. Alarmingly, hormonal contraceptives (like the pill) also render the women who take them much more susceptible to HIV. A report in the journal AIDS in 2009 found that “the risk of becoming eligible for ART [antiretroviral drugs] was almost 70% higher in women taking the pills and more than 50% higher in women using DMPA [Depo-Provera] than in women using IUDS [the loop].” A 1999 study found a “significant association between oral contraceptive use and HIV-1 seroprevalence or seroincidence … increased as study quality increased.” In fact, “Of the best studies, 6 of 8 detected an increased risk of HIV infection associated with OC [oral contraceptive] use.” Over 50 studies have found a connection between oral contraceptives (the pill) and greater risk of HIV infection. Concerning "the loop"-it is outlawed in the United States because it was found harmful to women. Why then are they still legal in less-developed nations? If they're too dangerous for American women, how can they be safe for African women?

On the 21st of October the Times reported that the message for the "World at Seven Billion National Campaign" is "ensuring that every child is wanted and every childbirth is safe and leads to smaller and stronger families." We all agree that stronger families is a great thing. I'm not sure how "every childbirth" will lead to "smaller" families-the birth of a child generally increases the number of family members-but we can also agree that making every childbirth safe is an excellent thing too. Moreover, every child is already wanted-maybe not by the mother and/or father, but by other loving husbands and wives who cannot have their own or simply want to love and nurture some more children. What remians , then, of the connection between contraceptive use, family planning, and maternal health? Dr. Robert Walley, Executive Director of MaterCare International, offered these comments at the 2007 "Women Deliver" conference in London: “By definition, a maternal mortality involves a pregnant woman, not a pregnancy that has been avoided or aborted. We have known for many years how to help prevent a woman’s death by emergency obstetrics and skilled birth attendants. It is a shame that these leaders [of the conference] want to divert attention from the real needs of women -- giving her the best of obstetrical care based on life, hope, and the dignity of motherhood.”

Grace looking out from the nature reserve (I think Mlawula; can't be sure) towards the middleveld.

Rudy after the race. Look at the shine on that head!

The family after the race.

Jabu and Rudy ready for a ride.

Part of the Police pass-out.

RACE TO THE RACE
Earlier I mentioned that some kind folks paid my way to join the Siteki bicycle road race, set for Saturday 1 October. Our friend Vitor Oliverra, the plant manager for Inyatsi Construction, offered to collect our whole family at the school early on Saturday morning and take us to the race. Road trip! We enthusiastically told Vitor that would be great.

Then, it rained heavily Friday evening. Vitor called late that night and asked what he should do. I told him that the roads generally improve once the rains stop (which they did, about 9PM), so he should go ahead and try it and just call us if he hits snags.

Saturday morning we walked out of the house to meet Vitor on the main road. The girls were ahead of me, and the phone rang. Vitor's path was blocked by a bus which had slipped on the muddy road. I asked him where he was; he gave the phone to someone nearby who told me "Emtjolobela". Ha! That's within eyeshot of the school. Still, time was against us (Siteki is on the opposite side of the country, and we had to be there to start at 8AM), and Vitor suggested I pedal my bike to him and just he and I would go. That seemed fair. I told Ruth, and she agreed. I then broke it to the girls, and the look of disappointment on their faces was too much to bear. "Wait here, girls, just a second."

Time to call on the go-to man, the Michael Jordan of "We'll make a plan".

I ran back to Stan Mamba's house and rapped on his door. When he didn't open it instantaneously, I called his cell phone. He did open the door, and I breathlessly explained our situation. Without a moment's hesitation he pulled on his shirt and tincabule (sandals made of old car tires) and got his pickup keys. I ran back to Ruth (who sat in the house nursing Jabulile) and told her Mamba would take us to Vitor. Ruth disconnected Jabu and went to Mamba's, not noticing that Jabu's shoes had fallen off in the excitement.

I returned to the girls, who had not moved from where I left them near the gate. I told them the new plan, and they were excited. We all got out the gate, we piled my bike in the back of Mamba's truck and all of us into the double cab, we got to the bus, we hustled past the immobilized leviathan (the radiator had been damaged when it fell into a roadside gully), we strapped my bike to Vitor's bike rack, and we were on our way.

The rest of the trip was easy. As we were pressed for time, Vitor was generous with the accelerator. We reached 100 mph at least once, on roads not generally designed for such speeds. The girls occasionally get carsick on the kombi trip to town; good thing we had the spare bread bags with us this morning, as they all (except Jabu) got sick. But we did make it to the race on time.

This event didn't have the kiddie attractions (food booths, jumping castle, water slide, etc.) that other ones often do. Fortunately, the girls found a /ishongololo (a harmless millipede as thick as your index finger and about 7 inches long) and played with that for 1 1/2 hours of the 2 1/2 hours it took me to finish the race. After I finished I tossed each of the girls one of the mini-chocolate bars that a generous volunteer at a water table stuffed into the back pockets of my cycling shirt. Our ride back to Mbabane and the school (Vitor is mighty nice to us!) was full of fun conversations. A good time was had by all.

Ruth and the girls after the ride. Kit is holding onto the seat post; you can just see some of her hair.
Rudy after the race. Check that glare on the noggin'! Good thing I wear a helmet when riding; otherwise I might impair the vision of low-flying airplane pilots and cause an accident.
Grace looking west over the Lubombo plateau and onto the lowveld. The bike race started and ended in Mlawula nature reserve near Siteki, just a short distance from Swaziland's eastern border with Mozambique. This is a dry region, with the tough and thorny vegetation commonly associated with Africa.

THE FOURTH PEACE CORPS GOAL; or, HOW TO PRE-EMPT A TONGUE LASHING
20 years ago my fellow Peace Corps Volunteers-to-be and I were told the three goals of Peace Corps were 1) Share technical skills with the host nation; 2) Learn more about the host nation culture; 3) Share our home nation culture with the hosts. The fourth, unwritten, but much more commonly-achieved goal is to provide opportunities for side-splitting laughter for the hosts. Language gaffs, myopic naivety, and stuff we do that just looks silly to them all ensure that at least some of our efforts-even if they are just opportunities for Swazis to say "Do you remember when Poglitsh..."-will remain in the hearts and minds of our friends and neighbors.

I like to ride my bike, I like to do stuff with my kids, and me taking Jabulile out of the house is a special treat for Ruth; hence the photo above combines three good activities. I do not particularly enjoy, however, all the free parenting advice I get when I take the younger kids outside; as most of this advice is usually negative ("Where are the gloves? She's going to catch flu!"), I've tried to come up with ways to avoid it.

A couple weeks ago, I hit on one: fight fire with fire. As I pedaled past the homesteads, the first time I heard a grandmother inside a homestead start clucking "Hawu, intfombatana utawukula!" ("Yikes, the child will get sick"), I cranked out "Aiiiiiiiiii, Poglitsh, utawuwisa intfombatana wakho! Utawufa umtfwana!" ("Poglitsh, you will make the baby fall! The child will die!"). I added some blood-curdling shrieks and slaps to my helmet (this was on a slow, uphill climb) for drama. The other, younger voices in the homesteads erupted in laughter, and I was spared another unsolicited pediatric shellacking. I hope the gogos (grandmothers) didn't take it too hard.


SCHOOLS OPEN
Last time we told everyone that schools had not opened. They did finally open, 7 weeks after they closed instead of 3 weeks later. The government still had not paid the E80 million, but principals unlocked the doors on the promise that the money would be there by the middle of October. Opinions among teachers were about evenly split between those who thought the schools would re-close when the money did not appear as promised (which most teachers thought would be the case) and those who thought the schools would simply finish the year on financial vapors. Ruth went to town this week and read that principals of some schools were directed to come get their checks-so maybe the money will be there. I'm writing on 12 October (Wednesday night); we'll see next Monday what happens.


OUR HEADMASTER
Headmaster Magagula, the man who replaced M.K. Dlamini beginning in the 2007 school year, did not appear at the school for the first two weeks of the third term. Some years ago he suffered an accident of some sort, and apparently it was having repercussions. For the sake of his health and for teacher confidence, I can happily report that he is back at his job. He seems fine to me; I sure hope he stays that way.


POLICE PASS-OUT
No, this is not a headline from the Times of Swaziland about faint-hearted police officers blacking out at the latest rally. Instead, this is what Americans would call a graduation. The newest batch of police officers put on their "dress blues" and take the oath of office. One former student, Mzwandile Nkambule, and one former colleague (and also former student) Lucky Nkambule (no relation) became full-fledged gun-toting officers of the peace on Friday 7 October. Mzwandile's mom stopped me in Mbabane in September and invited me to the function. We put it on our calendar. We took Shining Star to town Friday morning, got some food, then continued on to friends (Todd and Debra Hoskins) in Manzini. These friends knew where the Police College was (good thing, as we did not) and after refreshments at their place, they took us over and dropped us off. Mzwandile told us the event was to start at 9:30AM. Yeah, and he told us his mom's wedding a few years back was supposed to start at that time; on the day of her nuptials, after running uphill with the family and arriving in time, we found only women cooking in the kitchen and one guy decorating the hall. The wedding got underway around 11:30. So, "9:30" at the police college seemed to us unrealistic. Todd dropped us off at the gate at 11, and things didn't rev up for another hour and a half. Maybe we've learned something here.

At the gate a Swazi police officer toting an automatic rifle said "Sorry, sir, as you are a male you will have to remove your hat". Look up at the photo of me after the Siteki race and ask yourself if I thought showing my "cultural sensitivity" by baring my hairless white scalp in the sunniest and hottest few hours of the day was right at the top of my "mix with Swazi culture" list at the moment. Clearly, though, I had no choice. The King would be here. Off went the cap. Sometime later Cub came over with the sunscreen from Ruth, and I promptly slathered some on top.

The event really was fun. We saw Mzwandile and Lucky before they marched in, and we saw a fair amount of the goings-on. We did not get a seat in the bleachers, which was just as well; Ruth sat under a tree on the grass with the girls, while I got a great view of the event by standing right next to the assembly ground. The "newbies", after taking their oath, marched and sang Christian songs (yes, they did; I was there) for about 20 minutes. I also got to see the King 3 times, from only 10 or 20 yards away. Even though a casual observer like me figured this wasn't up to US Marine standards (heights of knees, precision and solemnity of raising and lowering swords, etc.) I did feel a surge of patriotism for our adopted nation and pride for the young people who had just sworn "so help me God" to defend their country.

We left the function before the food was served, as past experience and solicited advice indicated the lines would be excruciatingly long (especially for young kids). A short kombi ride landed us back in Manzini proper, we had a late lunch of barbecue pork and fried chicken at Kowloon's Restaurant, then we spent the afternoon and evening enjoying the company of the Salesian priests at the Catholic Cathedral. We spent the night at the Salesian's guest housing. The older 3 girls had a room to themselves; Ruth, Jabu and I shared our own room. This was a very pleasant day.

Our ground's-eye view of the newly-minted police officers on the marching ground.

GLAM-ROCK GRACIE
Jon Bon Jovi, eat your heart out. A couple days ago Grace said "Dad, watch this!" She began swinging her head side to side and her 21 inch hair (she can sit on the longest parts if she wants to) began waving like a mop in a hurricane. Our girls are maturing, but (like their dad) not always in every behavioral department; she still knows how to have fun, and that's a good thing. The video is attached. You may notice the high-pitched grinding sound in the background; though it's actually Mamba applying an angle grinder to a metal pipe to tweak our water tanks, it plays perfectly into the 1980's screech-rock theme. Enjoy.

SEEMS LIKE OLD TIMES (by Ruth)

Because the government is broke, forward-thinking parents are realizing that their children and relatives who have been on government scholarships might have to pay their own way next year. In a recent week we had two families come to inquire about getting help for school fees. We know of one group that does high school scholarships, so we have been passing out the applications.

That same week, we had a real good rain. It was the night before Rudy's bike race. The power went out. We were trying to get packed to go by candlelight. There was all of the uncertainty--will the transport make it? Are the roads too bad? We had agreed that I would stay home with the kids when Rudy came tearing into the house yelling, "Let's go NOW, Mamba is going to take us!" He parked us on the other side of the bus which was stuck in the mud and we walked through the mud to the other side and I just had this nostalgic feeling, "It's just like old times."

Sometimes you don't realize how things have changed. But slogging around a bus in the mud, having no power, and watching the mad school fee scramble are things that just haven't been happening as often as they used to. We have mini van transport that rarely gets stuck (and I rarely go to town now). The power has become more reliable. And the government sponsorships of orphans and "vulnerable" children (75% of the kids in this community fit into those groups) really reduced the stress levels in our community.

More Deja Vu moments:

Monday evening we got a call. Mzwandile was over at the local shop. He had just arrived in the community for a post school holiday before his work starts. I told him to come over for dinner--just like old times. When he was schooling here he would join us for dinner at least weekly. At the Police Graduation the other graduates had helped us find him in the line-up. He said he had gotten a lot of curious questions, "Who are those people?"
"I belong to their family. I am here today because of them, " he told them (sometimes he gives us more credit than we deserve).
"What? Were they your sponsors?"
"No, they didn't pay my school fees. I was just at their house all of the time."
Nobody seemed to quite understand.

It was really fun to have him here, and if time permits he said he would come by and help in the garden just for old times sake. Frankly though, the girls are really hoping for wheelbarrow rides. He used to collect cut grass and bring it over to our garden. The girls would ride on top, "just to keep it from falling off!" They are a lot bigger now, and there are more of them. But on the other hand, Mzwandile is a lot bigger too. Especially after a year of hard physical training.

On Wednesday, Thokozane Khumalo showed up at our back door. He used to spend a lot of time here while he was working on the moringa project. The girls were again very happy. They wanted to know if he would make playdoh cows with them. But they ended up checking out our garden with him. He helped them harvest the first radishes, and he got to eat radishes for the first time. He liked them. He has a very large garden. He is an excellent gardener and he left with seed for quite a few plants that looked interesting to him.


BROKEN PROMISES (by Rudy)
Edward C. Green, former director of the AIDS Prevention Research Project at the Harvard Center for Population and Development Studies, has just published a book by this title. The subtitle reads "How the AIDS Establishment has Betrayed the Developing World". That's a pretty bold title, and the book lives up to it. Green details from an insiders perspective how successful, low-cost, home-grown, behavior-changed based anti-AIDS campaigns (like Uganda's in the late 1980s and early 1990s) get ignored and overwhelmed by big-budget western projects driven by "all sex, all the time" ideology. Green wrote an article entitled "AIDS and the Churches: Getting the Story Right" (http://www.firstthings.com/article.php3?id_article=6172) in First Things magazine on AIDS prevention in 2008. He also wrote an opinion piece for the Washington Post newspaper entitled "The Pope May be Right" (http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/03/27/AR2009032702825.html) in March 2009 soon after Benedict XVI said condoms may be exacerbating the AIDS problem in Africa. If you're worried Green is a neo-conservative Bible thumper concerned only with the immorality of condoms and not the decimation of Africa, read these portions of his "biographical disclaimer" from chapter 1 of the book:

I was born at the start of the Boomer generation that came of age in the 1960s. I grew up in a liberal family, and I still have photos of my mother with Robert Kennedy and Hubert Humphrey...Later, in Washington, D.C., I distinguished the family escutcheon by cofounding the Sewer Rats gang...Starting at age ten, I attended two boarding schools for almost five years: Fay School, where actor Peter Fonda was as miserable as I was, and super-elite Groton, where my father and Franklin Roosevelt had thrived, and which I hated. The feeling was reciprocal. After I had been expelled for a 'chronic negative attitude' toward authority, my mother informed me that my life was over...I became the first kid in my 11th grade to get a "social" disease. I soon discovered that girls in my school were not quite as thrilled as guys about my accumulating triumphs. Still, promiscuity was the name of the game and I was clearly an all-star. In my high school yearbook for the Class of '62, the prophecy for me was: "Shot by a jealous husband." Friends from this earlier life (including my ex-wife, who left me because of my infidelity) can hardly believe Ted Green promotes faithfulness these days...In other words, you won't find my picture if you look up the word "prude" in the dictionary. And-as perhaps you have surmised-I have a problem with authority. I dislike it, probably more than most people, as shown by my expulsions from Groton, from summer camp, and eventually from Harvard's Center for Population Studies (even as I write this book). I like to stick up for the weak and powerless and stick it to the rich and powerful, especially if they are arrogant. Whether my joy in puncturing these floating, self-important bags of professionalism is a bias to overcome, a form of masochism, or a useful analytic tool, I wish at least to be forthright about it.

Green later confirms that he still supports many principles generally associated with the political and cultural left.

"For the record I am a lifelong, outspoken liberal-progressive-leftist. I have never voted for a Republican. I would have cast my ballot for Ralph Nader in two recent presidential elections if he hadn't been siphoning votes from the Democrats in two tight races. I have always supported reproductive rights and sexual freedom, and I spent many years working in contraception, family planning, and condom marketing. I am not an active adherent of any sect, denomination, or religion. I shouldn't have to say these things, but such is the level of argument that some people judge one's findings by one's politics and vice versa. Of course, that isn't science at all; it's ideology.

When it comes to stopping AIDS in Africa, Green empirically demonstrates that "free love as long as you use a condom" won't work. We have had the pleasure of correspondence and even a couple of meetings in Swaziland with Dr. Green. If you want informed insight into the development and dynamics of the anti-AIDS fight in Africa, buy and read his book. I trust you'll find it as fascinating and exasperating as we do. I cannot help but add that Dr. Green asked us if we had read it. When we replied that we had not, he sent us a copy. I figured he had a box of them sent free to him by the publisher and that he had sent us one of those. In fact he purchased us a copy from Amazon. Thank you, Dr. Green.

Have a good day
Rudy for the gang

Glam Rock Gracie

SCHOOLS OPEN-SORT OF
Schools were due to open for the third term on Tuesday, September 13. The thing is, the government
promised to pay for the orphans and vulnerable children (OVCs), and government still owes E80
million (about $11.5 million) to the schools. It is rumored that some schools have not received any
OVC money for two years. So the principal's association decided not to open schools until the money is
paid. Bottom line-we are still not teaching all the form 1, 2, and 4 students. We are teaching the form 3
and 5 students, because they take their big and important tests beginning in about 1 month. It's Monday
morning when I'm writing this, and we'll see what the plan is in about an hour when the students
assemble.
Opinions on the matter vary. Some say that the students are losing out (of course that's true, though I
saw few long faces on the form ones when they were told last week to come back Monday); others say
schools simply cannot run without money (a teacher colleague has a friend who is a principal in a
school around Manzini; the principal showed my friend a bank balance for the school, which stood at a
whopping E2000. Who among you could run a high school indefinitely on less than $300?). One can
hope the government will learn not to make promises it cannot keep.
UPDATE: "Sidziniwe kunatsa incwancwa ekhaya"
This means "We are tired of eating thin porridge at home". A form 1 student uttered that just minutes
ago after assembly was dismissed. The Deputy had announced that nothing has changed and that only
the form 3 and 5 students will receive instruction while the Form 1, 2 and 4 students will again go
home. They received a letter to take to their parents before they left, explaining that the schools are still
waiting for the government to pay and that everyone should listen to the radio for further information.
School is indefinitely closed. Interesting times.
E2400 A MONTH
I met a student (Bongani Shongwe) on the road last Wednesday and had a good chat. He owns a digital
camera and used to take photos of students, charging E6 a photo. He would take the shot, travel to town
and print the picture, then come back to the school to give the photo and collect the money. Students
know we have a digital camera and sometimes come to us and ask for a photo. We steadfastly refuse
and send them instead to Bongani, hoping that we can encourage private enterprise. I asked him if he
was taking any photos these days at the school. He said he had given up on the students, as Bongani
would often take the photo and return with print in hand, only to have the students never pay (future
government officials?). But, he continued, he can make E600 (just under $100) on a Saturday taking
photos of folks in town. He simply stands around on various streets and runs the same operation he
does at school, though folks in town pay. Ingeniously, one of his locations is a small tree nursery where
his sister works. The customer may arrange a backdrop consisting of vegetation of his or her choice; it's
a sidewalk photo studio! With siblings to watch over at his homestead he can't go to town every
weekend, but he sure has found a money maker.
INGUBO AYINAMALI
Last week Make Silolo (widow of Abner Dlamini) came for a visit. She explained that she wants to
build a second garden, and sought some help with supplies and labor. We sent her off with a promise
that Rudy would come over on Friday with pesticides (to kill bugs in the garden she's already planted),
fencing nails, and a hammer. When he did get over there about 7:30AM, Make had already moved 20
wheelbarrow loads of cow manure from the corral onto her fields for fertilizer. "Ingubo ayinamali", she
said, meaning "There's no money in the blanket", meaning "Get out of bed and get to work if you want
to eat or buy anything". Good for her.

RANDOM ACT OF KINDNESS
On Thursday last week Kit and I went collecting cow manure on the soccer field. I truly enjoy this job,
as it makes the soccer field nicer for the players and provides good nutrients for our plants.
We found two boys and a girl at the field, just out having a good time. After a few minutes one of the
boys walked over to us with a half-dozen dry cow pies skewered on a dried tree branch. He pushed and
shook the manure off the stick, just like you'd remove the meat and veggies from a shish-ka-bob. Later
the girl helped out too, picking up manure with her bare hands and depositing it in the barrow. I did not
expect this. I'm not sure the word "heartwarming" goes with cow pies, but it was touching.
SPONSORED RIDES AND NEW WHEELS
I mentioned in a previous newsletter that some folks spotted me the entry fee for a mountain bike race
in the lowveld on Saturday, 10 September. Friends in town let me spend Friday night in town so a guy
who works for Inyatsi Construction company could pick me up at 5:45AM to get us to the starting line
on time. The ride there and back with Vitor Oliverra was great (Vitor even brought me all the way to
our house), and the race was a blast. Vitor and I dueled for a while on the course, but he eventually left
me in the dust. It seemed I could catch up and pull ahead of him going up hills, but he recovered and
went ahead on the flats and downhills. I passed another guy twice-twice!-on uphills, and we were
wheel-to-wheel for about 6km on some flats (with me in front). But I knew I didn't have the energy to
keep up that pace, and after a while he went ahead of me and I never saw him again. I suspect this has
to do with bike race strategy (something like let your opponent lead for a while then pass him), which I
know nothing about.
So I spent the last few kilometers by myself-until about 2km remained. I saw behind me two guys I had
passed quite a time before, and I did NOT want them to catch me so close to the end. I am making an
effort not to be very competitive about this biking thing (partly because I'll never win anything
anyway), but really-that would have been too much, to have left these guys behind so long ago just to
lose to them at the end. So I really pushed hard the last km or so, at the risk of leg cramps. I didn't look
back (I know that much is important in a sprint) and indeed crossed the finish line ahead of my wouldbe
overtakers. A small success! I was position 26 out of 28-yikes, I thought I'd done better than that! No
matter-it really was fun.
The race passed through 3 game reserves; one guy said he saw a giraffe. I did notice that the manure
along the trails was neither cow or dog (call it hillbilly awareness), and I did see some bleached-out
animal bones. It did cross my mind a couple times, What if there's a lion in one of these reserves? They
are predators, I'm distracted (creaking bike, hot and sweaty, I'm trying to see the trail markers), and I'd
be an easy take. I talked to someone afterwards about that who had the same vague, disturbing thought.
Fortunately, no one suffered such an incident.
That race was on Saturday. On following Monday (the day before school was supposed to open), I put
Jabu on my back and went for a ride. By the time we returned to the house, the back sprocket wouldn't
turn the wheel when I pedaled; my transmission was shot. I thought "Hmmm, don't know how much
this will cost; the shocks are failing; and the rear gear shifter is also going out. And there's an E1400
($200) second-hand bike at the bike shop for sale, which I've pedaled around the parking lot and liked."
My dad was in sales all his life; I approached Ruth, hoping I had inherited a some of his skills. "Ruth,
my back sprocket doesn't work..." etc. I could see she knew where I was headed. "Is the bike still at the
shop?", she asked. I quickly called and confirmed that it was. "Hold on to it for 10 minutes, guys, I'm
negotiating with Ruth!" They chuckled on the other end and said they would. We looked at the finances
and determined that I would go into debt a little bit, while Ruth most generously offered to give me
some of her discretionary money. The deal was set. I called back the folks at the shop and told them I'd
pick up the bike Saturday. Ah, what a great wife I have!
As we did not teach that week of school, I picked up the bike on Wednesday instead. I also caught a lift
with Mamba to town on Thursday and deposited the old bike there; they'll fix it up and resell it. Eddie
(employee at the shop) said I should get about E1000 out of it. That will cover Ruth's generosity and
most of the debt I incurred. Hot diggity!
When I picked up the new bike, the shop owner asked "Do you want to ride in the Siteki race on
October 1st? Some folks have volunteered to pay your entry fee." I was happily shocked. "Why do they
do this?" I asked. "I sent out an e-mail and folks volunteered", is what the owner said. I was thinking it
would be nice if the rest of the family could come, so I asked if there would be kiddie things (jumping
castle, food, etc.) at the finish line. I got a lukewarm answer on that, and decided I would have to put
this one to Ruth gently and not expect too much, and not get bummed if she said no. She said that it's
actually easier if I just go by myself, as it's a bit of a logistics puzzle getting everyone moved around.
So, she let me go. What a great wife again. I hope I help her even a fraction of the amount she helps
me. Accommodation in town the night before is arranged, and Vitor will again pick me up on the way
(he'd already planned to do this race). As this is a road race and I'll be riding the "Silver Queen" (that's
the name Ruth gave it; she had dibs on naming it, as it would not be here without her generosity) with
fat dirt tires and low gearing, I'll be dreadfully slow; anyone who wants to pass me with their thin-tired,
high-geared, sleek-frame road bikes will leave me far behind. But the experience will, I suspect, be fun
again.
Ruth heard many years ago that one trick for living overseas for a long time is to have hobbies you can
only do overseas. I know there's lots of biking in America, but I don't think I'd get as many "free rides"
there as I do here. Neither do I think I'd be able to collect cow manure with my girls as much as I do.
NSUKUMHILLBILLY
Your 4 year old daughter, while helping you collect cow manure on the soccer field, has this to say
about the quality and quantity of bovine-generated fertilizer: "This is the bomb!"
Hillbilly pre-teen
Kit with a load of hand-picked free fertilizer
Have a nice day,
Rudy for the gang

SCHOOLS OPEN-SORT OF
Schools were due to open for the third term on Tuesday, September 13. The thing is, the government promised to pay for the orphans and vulnerable children (OVCs), and government still owes E80 million (about $11.5 million) to the schools. It is rumored that some schools have not received any OVC money for two years. So the principal's association decided not to open schools until the money is paid. Bottom line-we are still not teaching all the form 1, 2, and 4 students. We are teaching the form 3 and 5 students, because they take their big and important tests beginning in about 1 month. It's Monday morning when I'm writing this, and we'll see what the plan is in about an hour when the students assemble.
Opinions on the matter vary. Some say that the students are losing out (of course that's true, though I saw few long faces on the form ones when they were told last week to come back Monday); others say schools simply cannot run without money (a teacher colleague has a friend who is a principal in a school around Manzini; the principal showed my friend a bank balance for the school, which stood at a whopping E2000. Who among you could run a high school indefinitely on less than $300?). One can hope the government will learn not to make promises it cannot keep.

UPDATE: "Sidziniwe kunatsa incwancwa ekhaya"
This means "We are tired of eating thin porridge at home". A form 1 student uttered that just minutes ago after assembly was dismissed. The Deputy had announced that nothing has changed and that only the form 3 and 5 students will receive instruction while the Form 1, 2 and 4 students will again go home. They received a letter to take to their parents before they left, explaining that the schools are still waiting for the government to pay and that everyone should listen to the radio for further information. School is indefinitely closed. Interesting times.

E2400 A MONTH
I met a student (Bongani Shongwe) on the road last Wednesday and had a good chat. He owns a digital camera and used to take photos of students, charging E6 a photo. He would take the shot, travel to town and print the picture, then come back to the school to give the photo and collect the money. Students know we have a digital camera and sometimes come to us and ask for a photo. We steadfastly refuse and send them instead to Bongani, hoping that we can encourage private enterprise. I asked him if he was taking any photos these days at the school. He said he had given up on the students, as Bongani would often take the photo and return with print in hand, only to have the students never pay (future government officials?). But, he continued, he can make E600 (just under $100) on a Saturday taking photos of folks in town. He simply stands around on various streets and runs the same operation he does at school, though folks in town pay. Ingeniously, one of his locations is a small tree nursery where his sister works. The customer may arrange a backdrop consisting of vegetation of his or her choice; it's a sidewalk photo studio! With siblings to watch over at his homestead he can't go to town every weekend, but he sure has found a money maker.

INGUBO AYINAMALI
Last week Make Silolo (widow of Abner Dlamini) came for a visit. She explained that she wants to build a second garden, and sought some help with supplies and labor. We sent her off with a promise that Rudy would come over on Friday with pesticides (to kill bugs in the garden she's already planted), fencing nails, and a hammer. When he did get over there about 7:30AM, Make had already moved 20 wheelbarrow loads of cow manure from the corral onto her fields for fertilizer. "Ingubo ayinamali", she said, meaning "There's no money in the blanket", meaning "Get out of bed and get to work if you want to eat or buy anything". Good for her.Make Silolo and Jabulile. The black clothing is what widows traditionally wear for several months after the death of their husbands.
Grace and Siphesihle, Make's daughter

RANDOM ACT OF KINDNESS
On Thursday last week Kit and I went collecting cow manure on the soccer field. I truly enjoy this job, as it makes the soccer field nicer for the players and provides good nutrients for our plants.
We found two boys and a girl at the field, just out having a good time. After a few minutes one of the boys walked over to us with a half-dozen dry cow pies skewered on a dried tree branch. He pushed and shook the manure off the stick, just like you'd remove the meat and veggies from a shish-ka-bob. Later the girl helped out too, picking up manure with her bare hands and depositing it in the barrow. I did not expect this. I'm not sure the word "heartwarming" goes with cow pies, but it was touching.

SPONSORED RIDES AND NEW WHEELS
I mentioned in a previous newsletter that some folks spotted me the entry fee for a mountain bike race in the lowveld on Saturday, 10 September. Friends in town let me spend Friday night in town so a guy who works for Inyatsi Construction company could pick me up at 5:45AM to get us to the starting line on time. The ride there and back with Vitor Oliverra was great (Vitor even brought me all the way to our house), and the race was a blast. Vitor and I dueled for a while on the course, but he eventually left me in the dust. It seemed I could catch up and pull ahead of him going up hills, but he recovered and went ahead on the flats and downhills. I passed another guy twice-twice!-on uphills, and we were wheel-to-wheel for about 6km on some flats (with me in front). But I knew I didn't have the energy to keep up that pace, and after a while he went ahead of me and I never saw him again. I suspect this has to do with bike race strategy (something like let your opponent lead for a while then pass him), which I know nothing about.
So I spent the last few kilometers by myself-until about 2km remained. I saw behind me two guys I had passed quite a time before, and I did NOT want them to catch me so close to the end. I am making an effort not to be very competitive about this biking thing (partly because I'll never win anything anyway), but really-that would have been too much, to have left these guys behind so long ago just to lose to them at the end. So I really pushed hard the last km or so, at the risk of leg cramps. I didn't look back (I know that much is important in a sprint) and indeed crossed the finish line ahead of my would-be overtakers. A small success! I was position 26 out of 28-yikes, I thought I'd done better than that! No matter-it really was fun.
The race passed through 3 game reserves; one guy said he saw a giraffe. I did notice that the manure along the trails was neither cow or dog (call it hillbilly awareness), and I did see some bleached-out animal bones. It did cross my mind a couple times, What if there's a lion in one of these reserves? They are predators, I'm distracted (creaking bike, hot and sweaty, I'm trying to see the trail markers), and I'd be an easy take. I talked to someone afterwards about that who had the same vague, disturbing thought. Fortunately, no one suffered such an incident.
That race was on Saturday. On following Monday (the day before school was supposed to open), I put Jabu on my back and went for a ride. By the time we returned to the house, the back sprocket wouldn't turn the wheel when I pedaled; my transmission was shot. I thought "Hmmm, don't know how much this will cost; the shocks are failing; and the rear gear shifter is also going out. And there's an E1400 ($200) second-hand bike at the bike shop for sale, which I've pedaled around the parking lot and liked." My dad was in sales all his life; I approached Ruth, hoping I had inherited a some of his skills. "Ruth, my back sprocket doesn't work..." etc. I could see she knew where I was headed. "Is the bike still at the shop?", she asked. I quickly called and confirmed that it was. "Hold on to it for 10 minutes, guys, I'm negotiating with Ruth!" They chuckled on the other end and said they would. We looked at the finances and determined that I would go into debt a little bit, while Ruth most generously offered to give me some of her discretionary money. The deal was set. I called back the folks at the shop and told them I'd pick up the bike Saturday. Ah, what a great wife I have!
As we did not teach that week of school, I picked up the bike on Wednesday instead. I also caught a lift with Mamba to town on Thursday and deposited the old bike there; they'll fix it up and resell it. Eddie (employee at the shop) said I should get about E1000 out of it. That will cover Ruth's generosity and most of the debt I incurred. Hot diggity!
When I picked up the new bike, the shop owner asked "Do you want to ride in the Siteki race on October 1st? Some folks have volunteered to pay your entry fee." I was happily shocked. "Why do they do this?" I asked. "I sent out an e-mail and folks volunteered", is what the owner said. I was thinking it would be nice if the rest of the family could come, so I asked if there would be kiddie things (jumping castle, food, etc.) at the finish line. I got a lukewarm answer on that, and decided I would have to put this one to Ruth gently and not expect too much, and not get bummed if she said no. She said that it's actually easier if I just go by myself, as it's a bit of a logistics puzzle getting everyone moved around. So, she let me go. What a great wife again. I hope I help her even a fraction of the amount she helps me. Accommodation in town the night before is arranged, and Vitor will again pick me up on the way (he'd already planned to do this race). As this is a road race and I'll be riding the "Silver Queen" (that's the name Ruth gave it; she had dibs on naming it, as it would not be here without her generosity) with fat dirt tires and low gearing, I'll be dreadfully slow; anyone who wants to pass me with their thin-tired, high-geared, sleek-frame road bikes will leave me far behind. But the experience will, I suspect, be fun again.
Ruth heard many years ago that one trick for living overseas for a long time is to have hobbies you can only do overseas. I know there's lots of biking in America, but I don't think I'd get as many "free rides" there as I do here. Neither do I think I'd be able to collect cow manure with my girls as much as I do.

NSUKUMHILLBILLY
Your 4 year old daughter, while helping you collect cow manure on the soccer field, has this to say about the quality and quantity of bovine-generated fertilizer: "This is the bomb!"Hillbilly pre-teenKit with a load of hand-picked free fertilizer
Have a nice day,Rudy for the gang

The rock that defeated daddy. I got 2 hands and one heel on it, but no more. Cub is 3ft, 10in. tall

"Where's the trail, Dad?" asks Grace.

Would you hike 6 hours with this troupe?

Walkin' down a country road.

On the way down Sibebe.

Marathon women. From left, Cub, Grace, Kit

Water tank.

Enjoying well-earned pizza and soda.

Cub self-portrait

Cub early in hike.

The bug Grace was gleefully smashing.

Exultant hikers.

SIBEBE MOUNTAIN MARATHON
Last year Grace and Cub both got individual hikes up to Sibebe with dad. Monday (Aug. 29) we decided to send the three oldest girls (Grace, Cub, and Kit) together with dad. IT WAS A GREAT SUCCESS. I had planned to carry Kit (4 years old) on my shoulders the whole way, but in less than a mile I decided my knees would not agree. "Hey Kit, how about you do a little walking right now?" I told her that on the flat/slightly downhill portion of the road leading away from the school. I only carried her two or three times after that, either for safety purposes or for getting us moving faster.

The day started out cloudy but by mid-morning turned sunny (my favorite kind of weather). We stopped for about an hour and played in the river atop Sibebe. Rudy tried scaling a boulder, but failed. We may have caught a glimpse of the national bird of Swaziland, the purple-crested lourie. Man is it beautiful!

After descending Sibebe (using the path my Peace Corps group did 20 years ago), we caught a kombi into town. We quickly purchased two 2-liter bottles of soda, oranges for our hosts the Rehmeyers, and two pizzas. A short taxi ride later we were sitting in the Rehmeyers' house enjoying our soda and pizza. I remember that combination being my favorite meal after a soccer game, and I want to pass the tradition on. We spent the night with our hosts, and returned to school Tuesday morning.

The girls and I spent just over 7 hours outside, and all but one of those hours hiking; not once did they complain, and we had a great time all along the way. I am very proud of them.



AQUA COMPLETE
Our hike took us past the intake pipe (what we call "the source") for the water system. We found that although water was still going in, the level of the water was just over the pipe. This might mean trouble later. I noticed that a lot of water was running under the small dam built to feed water into the source. On Tuesday morning after our hike I bought (for just E3 each, about 42 US cents) 6 woven plastic bags (the kind you get flour or fertilizer in) with 45kg capacities.

Sure enough, when we got to the house Tuesday morning the water was out. I took my bags, zip ties, shovel, wrench and cell phone and headed out. I got to the source, put on some shorts, and waded around until I found where the water was escaping; I found what felt like a rip tide-strength flow about three feet below the water surface. I loaded two bags with soil and wedged them into the spot where the water was moving fast. I changed back into my long pants and headed back down along the water line, adjusting (as best I could) valves along the way.

I didn't adjust well enough; we had no water that evening. So I went back Wednesday morning and found, much to my satisfaction, that the filtration tank was full and overflowing. I'd blocked the escape route well!
Part of the filtration tank. This is how we found it Monday. By Wednesday, water was flowing out of the hole at the top of the photo.

So, the problem was not lack of water from the source. I turned a couple other valves and we had water. One valve I opened spilled most of the water out of the system and onto the ground-nice job, Mr. Roto-Rooter! I had to go back to the big tanks Thursday (when the water went out again, thanks to my opening this particular valve); but once I closed that valve, the water came back-and remains on, here on Friday afternoon.

Though it took me way longer than it would have taken Mamba to do this, I did it all myself. That sure is a satisfying feeling. It's also humbling, because I know I couldn't have done any of it without years of shadowing Mr. Stanford Mamba. I feel I've earned my associates degree from Stanford University.

PRAYER FOR FRIENDS
Some friends of ours have an adult child who has suffered from cancer for a number of years. The prognosis is not good, as the cancer has spread to both lungs and has appeared in some lymph nodes. Your prayers for healing, and for grace to cope with what is to come if healing is not God's will, are very much appreciated.

MAKE SILOLO (from Ruth)
A few days ago a student showed up hoping to get money to go to town. He had been having seizures and wanted to go to the hospital to get medication. Rudy told him that we would give him the money, but he had to promise to come on Thursday at 6:30AM (a couple days after his hospital visit) and work off his debt from previous loans. He understood that if he didn't show up, there would be no loans in the future. At 6:30 Thursday morning we were happy to hear him knock on our door.

He and Rudy headed over to Rudy's Swazi homestead. They went over the help Make Silolo (Abner Dlamini's widow) finish up a fence. She and Lungile redeployed some fencing to make an enclosed garden by their house to do commercial vegetable production. The Dlamini homestead has a long history of growing and selling vegetables, so Make already has contacts for buyers and experience with several crops. A couple days later she came over to explain their plans and see if she could get a loan for the 700 green pepper transplants that she wants to put in. I appreciate her. Since Abner had his stroke, things have been tough at the homestead. After he died things got very tough. She has needed some extra help, but she always tries to see how much she can do for herself. She wants to get back on her feet and she wants to honor Abner's desire for her to make her living through agriculture. In our community most agriculture is for home consumption. Few people use it as an income source, so we are glad to be affiliated with this homestead. She said she has to do well this year because next year there is a big function: the widows will remove their black mourning clothes. This custom requires her to provide a cow for slaughter. Cows cost almost E3000 (about $500). The family has no livestock. I don't think they even have chickens. Fortunately, a relative of Abner has volunteered to pay all the expenses for her to grow sweet corn this year, which makes good money and is easy to sell. I think she will be able to do it.

HAPPY GAMA (from Ruth)
Happy is the local preschool teacher and a friend of ours. She came to ask for help composing a letter to UNICEF requesting a permanent structure for her community feeding center and preschool. The community got organized and arranged temporary housing for these projects this year. It was nice to help her put together a request which highlights the group's accomplishments. I think it will put their request at the top of the stack. She has a nice personal garden. She was approached by the local community leaders to put in a funding request for a loan for fencing and irrigation so that she can expand her garden and do some commercial production. I got to help her fill out that application and gave guidance on how to prepare the quotations for the expenses. It would be nice to see her able to expand.

FISCAL RESPONSIBILITY (by Ruth)
Rudy has a new phrase: "Reality bats last". You can do stupid or ineffective things only so long before reality catches up.

The Swazi government has been struggling to cut expenses to get the budget closer to balanced. Unfortunately, no one wants to have their pay/jobs/benefits cut (no surprise there). But the government made one really positive step recently. Most university students receive government "loans" which pay not only tuition and educational expenses, but provide E25,000 (in one lump payment) for housing and food and personal expenses each year. Since many of these young people have never handled more than E200 at a time in their life, you can imagine how wisely much of this money gets spent. It is a ridiculous amount. A large proportion of working adults are making E800-E1600 per month, so for university students to receive over E2000 per month is quite bizarre. Sadly, w hen they finish university, they have a huge debt to pay back. Government collects this debt by garnishing their paychecks after they start working.

The government recently announced that new students would get just E10,000 and that it would be paid in installments. This is a much-needed change. The students are all crying and screaming now, but they won't be after they finish and compare their payroll deduction with those who got the cushy living allowance.

There are many reports of how lack of funds are hurting government services. Some of our neighbors needed a civil servant to come from Mbabane to do something for the water system. The neighbors had to have someone pick up the person because there is no gas for government vehicles. The headmasters of the schools say that the schools will not reopen until government pays the scholarships for OVC's (Orphaned and Vulnerable Children). At our school 75% of the students are on these OVC scholarships. Reports in the paper tell of government meetings where there is no tea or coffee. Higher authorities have announced that the government will provide employees with hot water, but they will have to bring their own tea bags and sugar. There are dark murmurings that it would not be appropriate for Junior Officers to go without hot drinks if they were still available at meetings for Senior Officers.

This is an interesting time. Up to now the government hasn't enacted any pay decreases or job cuts; it appears that the political cost is too great to do so. But when over half of your budget is salaries, reducing sugar expenditures won't balance it. Years ago, a Swazi told me that firing someone was like killing them. In a country where jobs are hard to find, job security is very important. If that perspective is common, and I think it is, you can understand the protests.

CIVIL AIR PATROL
One evening recently after dinner I (Rudy) heard tappings on the windows. I went to see what was going on, and found an eruption of some sort of flying insect underway. These bugs are a little beefier than wasps; but they do not sting (good) but they are not edible like tinhlwa (the flying termites the girls like to eat). These bugs are drawn to light. Grace opened a door and let them swarm in, then went about smacking them down with various items (like her flip-flops) and smashing them on the floor. Shouts of excitement filled the room, and joyous smiles spread across the faces of all the girls. I must admit it concerns me a little that the girls get kicks out of suckering insects to their demise, but I suppose it's better than first-person shooter computer games. All the same, I'll try not to let her do this again.



A SINCERE THUMBS-UP
I just love standing in line at the bus rank, wondering when the next kombi will arrive and I'll get to try to smash my way past mothers toting babies and 10kg bags of sugar to find a seat next to an inoperable sunny-side-of-the-bus window to spend the next 45 to 60 minutes (with my feet going numb under the weight of corn meal or with my knees shoved beneath my chin) on dusty, bumpy roads. Actually, this ISN'T my favorite pastime. I do like riding my bike, though, and and I've found a way around purgatorial transportation. I ride my bike to the beginning of the tarred road in Pine Valley (near Sibebe), lock the bike there, and take a kombi (these are frequent, clean, uncrowded, travel on paved roads, and require but 10 minutes to reach town) into Mbabane. On the way back to school I just reverse the process. I get to enjoy the great Swazi outdoors, get some bike fitness, and kiss the transport hassle a sweet farewell.

Thing is, most Swazis-and especially rural ones-are not accustomed to folks in bicycling regalia (those too-tight shorts and funny polyester shirts with loud color schemes, with the helmet to top it off). We have slowly realized that we will always be outsiders here, and dressing like an astronaut doesn't further our chances of mainstreaming. Still, we get treated far better than we deserve; people almost always give me a smile and a word of encouragement (which I try to return, although moving at 20 miles an hour down a gravelly dirt road with watering eyes makes me reluctant to take a hand off the handlebars to wave).

On Saturday the 3rd of September I took the "bike route" to town. Pedaling up a hill on the way home, I approached a 3 or 4 year-old boy on the side of the road. He stared me in the eye with grim determination, and had one arm fully extended towards me with a thumbs-up at the end. Something in his facial expression and thumbs-up communicated genuine approval and respect. It reminded me of the scene in an episode of M*A*S*H when Radar O'Reilly salutes his outgoing commanding officer just before the CO boards his ill-fated helicopter. I pedaled slowly towards him with a corresponding thumbs-up, and we touched thumbs. He followed me for a short distance; and I stopped and talked a bit, then turned and pedaled on. As kind and heart-warming as folks' greetings are out here, there was something extra special about this one. Swaziland is quite a place.

Have a good day,
The Poglitshs