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