Thulani Gule and Rudy Poglitsh at end of City to City 65km mountain bike race. Thulani gave me the shirt I'm wearing here, as well as the biking shorts you can't see. He and the other cyclists, though they are far better than I am (Thulani fihished 3rd, I finished 14th), are a great encouragement. They are a classy group of competitors.

Double-decker kids

Hillybilly hair salon 1

Hillbilly hair salon 2

Hillbilly hair salon 3

End of the City to City race

Meat-henge 1

Meat-henge 2

Meat-henge 3

Corn report

Hillbilly hair salon 4

GOOD FOR 65,000
65,000 meters, that is. On August 6 Rudy will participate (not compete; I don't have a chance of winning) in his second City to City mountain bike race. The race travels from Mbabane to Manzini through the backcountry. It's a mighty good time. I hope to improve on my dead-last, 7 1/2 hour completion time of last year, though I harbor no illusions about finishing the race with the "lead dogs". On Friday July 22 (the birthday of the previous king, and a public day off) I rode 5 times between Esitseni elementary school and Nsukumbili. Each round trip is 12km, so the 5 back-and-forth laps gave me 60k. A trip to the other local primary school (Entfubeni) and 3 laps around the soccer field rounded out the 65. I did it in 5 hours (a vast improvement over last year's time), but these roads are much easier to negotiate than the root- and rock-strewn trails we'll see Saturday. Still, I did each lap in about the same amount of time, and felt fine afterwards; no crippling cramps or exhaustion. So, I have some hope. Last year I was also working against a stomach bug for the week before the race, and that hindered me some. The bug seems to have returned at the same time this year; more below. Still, I'm looking forward to the race.

One of the most interesting parts of these events is getting there and back. This year's transport details go like this:
* Take Friday morning (5 August) Shining Star bus to town; bike goes on luggage rack atop bus;
* Pile family (and bike) into a taxi at bus rank in Mbabane; taxi takes us to the YWAM base just above and out of town, where the YWAMers have most graciously allowed us to spend the night;
* 5:30AM Saturday, Rudy rides his bike back into the city center for a 6:30AM start;
* At their convenience later Saturday morning, Dan and Amy McCoy (missionaries residing at YWAM) cart Ruth and the girls to the finish line in Manzini; they enjoy the kids' entertainment (jumping castle, slides, swings, piles of junk food) as long as they wish, then leave the Poglitsh women there to await Rudy;
* After Rudy crosses the finish line and spends a 30 minutes with the oxygen mask on his face (hopefully not!), we get over to the Salesian community in Manzini where Father Mikel (a Spanish Salesian) has offered us accomodation for the night;
* We attend Mass Sunday morning and then find a bus (with the big luggage space underneath for the bike) back to Mbabane;
* We buy some groceries in Mbabane, then put Ruth and the girls on a kombi back to the school;
* Rudy finds some form of transport to the Mbuluzi/Sibebe gatehouse with his bike, then rides it back to the school (I did this last year with no real trouble; besides, the little bonus ride is fun)
* We all sit around the house Sunday and talk about the fun we had over the weekend
As you can see, it's not only a matter of getting the body and the bike in shape for these races. Thanks go out to all the people who helped us do this. These are the things family memories are made of.

2 DAYS AFTER
Mission accomplished. I'm now writing on Monday afternoon, and the race was on the Saturday just past. We got up to the YWAM base just as planned. On Saturday morning at 5:40AM I walked out of the house with my bike, into a pea-soup mist and deep darkness. After getting out the gate, I realized this bordered on the insane: I knew this walk well enough in the light, but not being able to see 10 yards ahead of me due to the dark and mist, with who knows who eager to relieve a wandering umlungu (white guy) lurking in the woods (there is some problem with this in the trees around the house), I went back to the house and sheepishly knocked on Dan's door. He graciously gave me a ride to the starting line for the race. I think I would have missed the start even if I had not been mugged or lost on the way; you don't find streetlights until you are close to the city center, so I would have been riding blind.

Anyway, a little after 6:30AM we (about 30 riders) took off. My goal in this race was to finish decently-which meant no extended periods sitting in a latrine, wondering if I was going to have a heart attack, as I did last year-and to not be dead last. I met both goals! I finished in 5 hours 37 minutes-a full 2 hours less than last year. The first place finisher crossed the line in about 4 hours. At this rate, I'll be the winner next time around! The year after that, I'll be Olympic and Tour de France material and Lance Armstrong will be but a quaint memory.

I only crashed once, and neither the bike nor I sustained any serious damage. I made a point of drinking and eating more along the way. If you are looking for an excuse to eat as much chocolate and drink as much Coke as you can stomach, ride a bike for long distances. After one water table (volunteers set up drink and snack tables along the way), I got two Milky Way-sized chocolate bars peeled and put into my left hand. I ate them one right after the other. Some Swazi kids 50 yards from the water table shouted "Chocolate please!". I enthusiastically replied "For me!" Not today kids; the umlungu is mighty hungry and has a ways to go yet. But I did feel lots better this time around.

Along one stretch I rode with a guy named Adrian (okay, so you can see that this isn't a cutthroat competition for every participant, if you have conversations with other riders along the way). He was born in Zimbabwe and moved to South Africa in 1980, when he was about 17 years old. He now runs a paint contracting business in Johannesburg. I asked him when he thinks Zim will right itself. He said he had no ideas. One problem is that diamonds have now been found in Zim, and you can imagine how carefully Mugabe and his colleagues will steward that new-found resource for the good of all Zimbabweans. I mentioned that, in my perspective, this region of Africa (I don't know any others) should be prosperous, and yet it remains a basketcase. Adrian rattled off the resources some of the other countries in the region posess, and yet the poverty remains. Really frustrating.

Anyway, we got separated at the bottom of a really nasty hill and I didn't see him until the end. I hope to get back in touch with him. That last hill was something. He and I went through the plants a little to the side of the main dirt path; it must have been a 30 degree incline on dry-but-slippery soil. We asked a photographer if the other racers had gone down the hill; he said they had. I told Adrian "Yeah, those guys are half our age and have no kids and think they're indestructible." The photographer replied that the previous year he saw a racer flip himself into a 4-foot deep gully to the side of the path, landing with his bike above him. The rider pulled out and ate a candy bar, then got back up and continued.

The only cramp I got was 10 yards from the finish line, when I gave it a burst of speed to I could bunny-hop over the finish. I then slammed on the back brake and spun the bike out from beneath me, jumped up and slapped the nearest tent peg in excitement. I then returned to the bike and knelt and prayed, thanking God for a safe and successful trip. I wonder if people thought I was praying to my bike.

The McCoys, Hlengiwe Shongwe (another YWAMer) and the girls arrived about 10 minutes later. After talking to a few more folks, Dan took us all to the Salesians where we bid the YWAMers a fond farewell.

In my mind this race is the "Ruth and McCoy Memorial". Without their help, I would not have been able to do it. Thanks a lot, friends.

PHOTO FINISH
After our night at Salesian, we loaded up our backpacks and bike and kids and headed for the Manzini bus rank. Some generous friends (Brett and Lesley) had given us some bike supplies to pass on to Sibusiso, a young man in this community who loves to ride bikes but has no money for parts or supplies. So, with kids and bags and tires in tow, we made our way along the sidewalk on a Swaziland Sunday morning.

A pickup truck pulled along side us and asked to take our photograph. We smilingly agreed, and the lady riding in the passenger seat produced her Blackberry and snapped a shot. What fun when the locals take the visitors' photo because of their curious cultural habits.

STOMACH BUGS
Unfortunately, as mentioned above, I've "enjoyed" a stomach bug visitor this week. I felt something wasn't quite right starting Friday the 29th, and by Monday night had vengeful diarrhoea. Ruth put me on clear liquids only for Tuesday and emahewu (a thin corn-mush drink) only on Wednesday. I did get all the hard candies I wanted; I probably ate two dozen of a variety of them. Tip: don't mix Hall's "blue ice" vapo-effect sweets with chewy choc-clairs; the combination is reminiscent of the fumes emanating from an organic chemistry lab. Here on Thursday, I get white bread all day and chicken soup for dinner. We hope the bug will be out or at least in submission through Saturday. The other concern is that given the limited diet, I haven't been loading up on energy stores. Well, my goal is to just finish anyway, so I'll give it a try.

More siginficantly, Jabu also had the stomach bug. She was spouting at both ends, and with a 15th month old, that's cause for concern. We called Dr. Wasswa, our Ugandan GP, and he said a rotovirus is making the rounds. He said there's little useful medical intervention; just keep giving her liquids in small doses, and let her rest. Ruth figures that if she weren't breast feeding (which she did a lot of this past week and a half), Jabu would be in the hospital. But Jabulile turned the corner about Thursday, and here on Monday she is fine. It's funny how welcome it is to hear your baby crying and cranking again, after a week of listlessness.

Writing here on Monday afternoon, I'm happy to report that my stomach got better under Ruth's program and gave me no problems during the race. All's well that ends well, but this bout of stomach bugs reminded us that in the words of a long-time expatriate friend, Africa is NOT a feminine continent.

RUTH RANTS
One of the hazards of living here is the potential for discouragement.

One of our friends here put it well, "We are living in a slow motion disaster."

One thing that has been getting my attention lately is that fact that eventually reality intrudes. For years there have been reports here that the government has been spending more than it brings in. For years very little has been done to address this problem. Now the money is gone. Swaziland asked IMF to help. IMF said, "You have a civil servant force 11 times the size of some comparable countries!" They said that Swaziland had to cut their wage bill for civil servants by 10%. No one is willing to budge. There is a widespread fantasy that "government has money". This is spread throughout the population. If we just stop paying for wastage and corruption there are boatloads of money floating around to pay a huge civil service and provide free education and healthcare for everyone. Swaziland is going around looking for a "loan" and they have had requests to the IMF and the African Development Bank turned down because of failing to implement the recommendations given. At home, they are afraid of social chaos and strikes if they implement a 10% wage cut.

The economic woes just add to the ongoing discouragement about HIV which stems from habits about sexuality which have led to the disintigration of family (only 25% of children have married parents) which leads to young people who have no models of responsible males in their lives, which leads to a continuing cycle of poverty.

We have a Ugandan friend who regularly bewails the laziness and lack of business sense of Swazi's compared to his experience in Uganda. And as I was listening to him recently I thought, "Why would these young people do anything different than what they have seen?"

So we live with this on a regular basis, and globally it doesn't seem like many are much more financially responsible than the Swazi government. And it doesn't seem like many people are much more responsible with their sexual lives than we see here. I am becoming aware that sexual customs are the basis of culture. Different sexual practices yield vastly different cultures. Sex is not a private matter. People's "private" sexual decisions inexorably lead to different child raising arrangements which lead to vastly different childhood experiences which leads to vastly different beliefs, attitudes, and practices among the adults in the community.

So usually here, we hear the bad news. I remember when I was in high school and all of the media reports about my generation were glum and I looked around and thought that those reports weren't all that accurate. So please help me out here. Culture is made of people. Can you send me an encouraging story about someone you know? If it isn't too long, send it to poglitsh@ovi.com (our cell phone). We rarely hear about the people who are doing things right and well.

Thanks for your help!
Ruth Poglitsh

CORN FUTURES
At least the food supply looks good for this year. Read the story below.

PET PARADE
Cubby is quite the animal lover, and wants some pets. She has talked about a bird. Ruth figures pets are fun for about a month, then just drudgery. What to do? Aha! We will "borrow" pets, then return them to their owners! The pets will be chicks (baby chickens are birds, right? Give the cute little fuzzballs back after a month, then eat them a month after that), baby rabbits (same routine), and maybe pigs (MAYBE; pigs are big and messy). The girls have to raise the money for the birdcage, and we'll go from there. This seems like a good bridge between the standard suburban pet and living in a rural, agricultural area.

WALK TO CHURCH
We've described the 2 hour walk to church before, but recently it was a little more special. Three kids (Mphendulo (boy) and Futhi and Nomphumelelo (girls)) often join us along the way. On a recent Sunday two of the kids spontaneously took one of my hands each as we walked along. The sense of trust was quite satisfying. I hope these children turn out okay.

GUEST SPEAKER
We had another treat at the outstation church recently. Sister Grace from Mbabane came out and spoke to the congregation about the life of a nun. Sister Grace is Swazi, and unmarried and childless life for a Swazi is a difficult concept for folks here to understand. She gave a great talk (what we could understand of it), and the parishioners young and old paid real attention. Father Maseko also celebrated Mass this particular Sunday, so the congregants enjoyed a second example of a life fully dedicated to God. This was a good Sunday.

A CLOSE SHAVE
Given a receding hairline and thinning hair, Rudy now opts for a shaved head. "Shearing day" has always been fun, but our most recent haircut was a real ball. The girls decided to give themselves and each other hair implants using my recently-released hair and bostick. See the photos. Welcome to the Hillbilly Hair Salon.

MEATHENGE
The photos say it all. We had vors (kielbasa) recently, and the girls got creative.

DOUBLE DECKER KIDS
I change Jabu early in the morning. Kit had been near-vomiting the entire night before the photo was taken, so Ruth put her in the empty bathtub to sleep. She was content, and woke up later with her stomach in good shape.

TAMRA'S VISIT
Tamra Rich is a pre-med student at the University of Florida (Ruth's alma mater) who is studying drug and alcohol issues among the youth in Swaziland for her undergraduate honors thesis. She came out to interview teachers and get a taste of the backcountry. She had success on both counts, and the girls loved having another (FEMALE) visitor. I am forever outnumbered here. Maybe that's why I like the bike races so much. In all seriousness, it was great to host someone from home in this beautiful country.

CIRCUMCISION
This is the latest nationwide campaign in the hopes of ending the AIDS scourge. A team from the Ministry of Agriculture came out a month ago and spoke to the teachers about the issue. The team said circumcision reduces the chance of getting HIV by 60%. After an hour, they asked for questions. I said "You're promoting an intervention that works at 60% in a country that's 40% HIV+. That's only about half-good. If we just preached 'Wait until you're married, keep it only in marriage', we'd be out of this mess very quickly." One member of the team replied "All along, we have been preaching abstinence..." "Excuse me, excuse me" I rudely and forcefully interrupted. "I have been keeping track of this. You have spoken to us for an hour and you have mentioned the word 'abstinence' three times. I would not call that preaching abstinence." The speaker deferred to a nurse on the team, who fed me some gobbledy-gook. After the gobbledy-gook, the woman who initially took my question said "I hope you're happy." Consensus and mutual happiness is a big deal here. "No, I'm not happy, and you're not going to make me happy, so you'd better move on to the next question."

Later I relayed this exchange to Ruth. When I said they told us we have tried preaching abstinence, Ruth said "No they haven't." Ruth is right. Abstinence has never been enthusiastically promoted here. The ABC approach in Swaziland is pronounced "abstain, be faithful, CONDOMIZE AND MAKE SURE YOU'RE IN LOVE!!!!" HIV is still running at 40%. I wonder if Swazis will simply disappear between death, outmarriage (Swazis marrying non-Swazis), and adoption (somebody needs to take care of the kids; why not loving moms and dads from somewhere else?). So now the school sports a poster in the main hallway that says "Circumcise. Condomise. Test." This is going to solve the problem? Howzabout save it for marriage? Naah, too difficult. We need some interventions. Just remember-40%. This is a discouraging situation.

PYTHON PLUMBING
It's been a while since we've talked about water. Here goes!

Though winters are dry here, we usually have a mid-winter rain at some point. That point was about a month ago. The flow was irregular after that, so Mamba went to the source and fixed it. It was steady for a few days, then went out again. I went along the line and looked for the problem. I found that a valve which directs water either to us or a community across the way was set 100% for the other community. A little adjusting made sure both sides got their fair shares.

A few days later, no water again. I went along the line again, and the problem was the same. So I opened the valve again.

The day (July 28) before Tamra came, I went out at 6 am to again open the valve. By 10:00 the water had stopped flowing into the school so once again I went across the mountains to fix the problem. I appreciated the chance to get some hill climbing on my bike, but I did not appreciate the outages. That afternoon, Mamba and I went out in his car and rearranged some things at the main tanks, so that almost twice as much water was in the system as usual. We then went to the querulous valve and adjusted it, so that (once again) both sides were getting their fair share. Mamba joked that we should put a python snake (big and scary, but harmless) inside the concrete ring where the valve sits. We would bring the snake a mouse every two weeks, and no kid would have the nerve to put his hand inside the ring to play with the valve. We returned home (after dark now) and enjoyed increasing water pressure.

400 POUNDS OF COMMUNITY DEVELOPMENT
In the morning, an open tap issued the gasping sound of running air. Air. Air. The water was out. Someone had gone to the valve after nightfall to shut off the water to our community.

I get up a couple hours before I leave the house. Lacking cable tv, a home internet connection, and PTA meetings, my mind does not experience multiple distractions. All my ruminations could focus on this latest twist in the water saga, and how to fix it.

I stode out of the house at 6AM to ride my bike. Mamba was outside his house, and asked "What is happening!" I strode towards him (Tromans and PCV friends, see if this sounds familiar) wearing my bike gloves, biking shorts, and bright red helmet and shouted "I'll tell you what's happening! Right after assembly you and me and 3 big boys are taking those concrete covers and closing that valve! We fixed that valve three times in a day, including nearly doubling the flow of water in the system, and it's still out! We fix it, seal it, and walk away! 'Cause this is ridiculous! Unbelievable!"

I don't know if the tirade had anything to do with helping Mamba make up his mind, but that's the plan we followed. We took the needed concrete rings and covers from other valves and went to the now-notorious valve with four brawny juniors. The combined mass of the concrete and 6 grown men caused Mamba's pickup truck tires to flatten appreciably; I do think we had 400 pounds of concrete with us. When we arrived at the valve, it was sure enough the full-open for the other community. We adjusted it, gave it time to settle down so we knew it would be fair for both sides, then sealed that thing like King Tut's tomb. We've enjoyed as steady, uninterrupted flow of water ever since. 400 pounds of community development.

Have a nice day,
Rudy for the gang