Africa Dispatch: 2012

Tuesday, December 25, 2012

Africa Dispatch-Stateside

Writing newsletters-a hard habit to break. Our latest is attached, and can also be viewed at

https://docs.google.com/open?id=0BwKvY7cfNnjsbUEtN190b0xCeGs

Have a Merry Christmas season,

The Poglitshs

Monday, December 3, 2012

Africa Dispatch-last from Swaziland

This is the link to our last Swaziland-based Africa Dispatch. I have some more to share, but it will be sent from the USA. Thanks for reading, and God bless you.
Rudy C. Poglitsh for the family

https://docs.google.com/open?id=0BwKvY7cfNnjsX3A0dmZYZGNvZnc

Saturday, November 17, 2012

Hello! Click on the link
https://docs.google.com/open?id=0BwKvY7cfNnjscGZjOTFENVM0R00
to see our 17 November video. Have a good day.
Rudy for the family.

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

16 October 2012 newsletter

https://docs.google.com/open?id=0BwKvY7cfNnjsTl82Y3l5by1weDA

Enjoy!
The Poglitshs

Saturday, October 6, 2012

6 October 2012

Find the newsletter at
https://docs.google.com/open?id=0BwKvY7cfNnjsNjRoUE0tUmRfRDg
Enjoy.
The Poglitshs

Africa Dispatch 6 October 2012

Here's a link. Enjoy
https://docs.google.com/file/d/0BwKvY7cfNnjsNTRnUTdKYjU1d28/edit

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

September 8, 2012 newsletter

Find it at

https://docs.google.com/open?id=0BwKvY7cfNnjsZlNlYmducWpPN2s
Have a good day!
The Poglitshs

Friday, August 31, 2012

Past newsletters

Monday, August 20, 2012

Africa Dispatches archived

With the help of Dan McCoy and google docs, our newsletters are now posted as pdf documents! When we send one out by email, we'll also post it on google docs and put the link here. This will save me a lot of trouble, and will make the newsletters available intact to anyone who's interested. At this time you will have to copy and paste. Maybe later I'll figure out how to make the web addresses links themselves. Enjoy.

June 20, 2012
https://docs.google.com/open?id=0BwKvY7cfNnjsam5fVEdia1dCQXc

July 7, 2012
https://docs.google.com/open?id=0BwKvY7cfNnjsWVlPU09Jd19FM0k

July 20, 2012
https://docs.google.com/open?id=0BwKvY7cfNnjsSmF6MzVsMmY5cFk

Saturday, June 9, 2012

Grace puts the lie to Roe v. Wade

Grace and her mobile device-a bit of knitting, while Dlangeni rolls by

Cowgirl Jabu, back at the ranch

Kit with that precious, but as yet untreated, liquid substance

This sorry little cut knocked me out?

Hello again!

BOIL YOUR WATER

Children have a great way of reducing concepts to their simplest elements. Grace, for example, wonders how abortion can be a fundamental right when America's founding documents include "Provide for the common defense". While studying American history in March this year, she got excited when she heard that phrase. She thought that she had discovered the final word that would settle the abortion question in the US. On her own initiative she wrote "is killing Babys really defend them?"

Kit delivered a similar "break it down" moment recently. We boil the water that we drink; otherwise we'd ingest some fascinating intestinal flora and fauna with their various unpleasant side effects. Ruth and I call water from the tap "untreated water". Kit and I were milling around in the kitchen recently, and needed water for some reason. She said something like "I won't use diarrhea water". I took a moment to figure out what she meant; what she meant was, water from the tap. Albert Einstein is quoted as saying "Everything should be made as simple as possible, but no simpler". Next time you need something expressed most simply, tell it to a child 10 or under and let them rephrase it for you.

HILLBILLY SEAMSTRESS

A couple weeks ago Grace and I traveled to town via pickup truck. We needed to get to town to view a soccer game (the school was playing) and make it to a dentist appointment for our first-born daughter. We found a kombi (minivan) waiting at the station, but it was set to take the team to the game, and we didn't want to overload the thing. We took our chances hitchhiking and got lucky. Grace immediately sat down with her back to the cab and withdrew her yellow scarf knitting project from her purse. I relished the picture of long-blond-haired Gracie sitting as comfortably in the back of this open pickup as she would in the back of a family sedan, happily putting her scarf together as the rural countryside of one of the last absolute monarchies in the world rolled by. Living here has taught her flexibility unavailable, I suspect, in many other contexts.

Grace and her mobile knitting project.

COWGIRL JABU

Equally rewarding and amusing was a recent trip to the river for the girls and I. Once a month the school spends three days giving tests to the students. Teachers proctor for two of those days, and get one of them off to go to town and buy groceries. On my days off Ruth goes to town and meets with Sister Benni, the Italian Mantellate Roman Catholic nun who is Ruth's spiritual director. The kids and I get the day to ourselves.

Last week the girls wanted to go swimming. The water level is low (it's the dry season) and the weather unseasonably warm-perfect for a dip. This is not, however, a suburban community pool; we share the river with crabs, snakes (rare), and cows (common). Jabulile cracked me up when a half-dozen thirsty bovine visitors approached the river. Jabu began to wave her arms at them and shout "Hamba!", which means "Go!". She gave the cows pause, which is something as Jabu weighs about 20 pounds and an average cow about 2000. She was outweighed 600 to 1 (6 cows x 2000lbs/20lbs).

PET GRASSHOPPER

Kit, ever practical. Two weeks ago on our walk to church Cub(who loves animals) found a miniature grasshopper. The black creature would fit comfortably on your pinky fingernail. Cub wanted to take it home and make a pet of it. She put it in her wool hat (Cub started out cold this Sunday morning but warmed up during the walk, so she didn't need to wear it) and squeezed the opening of the hat shut. "You should call it 'Nappy'", offered Kit. "Why nappy?", I asked. "Because it will need a nappy (diaper), because it will go to the bathroom in Cub's hat." That name did not stick, and Cub mercifully released the grasshopper at the church.

FIXING WATER SANS MAMBA

Stan Mamba spent last week at UNISWA, the national university of Swaziland. He is upgrading his teaching credentials. We're glad he's doing that, but "absences have consequences" when he is the man to fix the water.

It went out while he was away.

It was up to three serious amateurs to try to fix it.

A Thursday morning attempt by TJ Mamba (Yenzie's dad), Mbuyiseni Gama (the school groundskeeper, who's not really an amateur), and myself found a couple of valves wrongly set. We did have water until near sunset, when it went out again. TJ and S.W. Dlamini and I set out again in the late afternoon, when we discovered that not enough water was entering the system at the source. This meant we needed to take a trip to the source, and we had not the light for such an operation.

So Friday morning Mr. Shandu and I met Mr. Gama along the road to the source a little after 6AM. Stan Mamba allowed us to use his pickup truck in his absence. I told Shandu that I had not driven a car for 8 months to a year, and certainly not on roads like this. He was silent; I wonder if he was as worried as I was? Worry or no, we had no water and wanted to fix it.

I turned the defroster on, as the inside of the windshield was clouding up with condensed water from our breath. This worked some, but had an even greater impact later.

We met Gama, and after two attempts up a particularly steep and slippery slope, found ourselves at the main tanks. Having decided the problem must be the source, we headed off with shovels, nylon mesh flour bags, and zip ties to try to get more water into the source.

30 minutes later Shandu and Gama were filling bags with soil while I, stripped to my soccer shorts, was wading in the reservoir placing bags to block the water from escaping under the dam. Having done as much as we thought we could, we returned to the big tanks to see what effect our efforts would have.

At first it looked like we'd succeeded, then it looked like we'd failed. The water level seemed to rise a bit in the first (filtration) tanks, but after the holding tanks started drawing properly, it appeared to me that we hadn't really raised the volume of inflow very much.

Instead of sitting around worrying about it, I told the other two guys I was going back to the source to see if I could do anything. With sacks and shovel and ties, I tried to identify any other holes and generally raise the level a bit more. 90 minutes later back at the tanks, it looks like our first effort had been sufficient; the water inflow looked pretty good. Maybe we weren't abject amateurs after all!

We went back to the pickup and got in. The truck was scheduled to transport soccer players from the school to a local soccer field for the last game of the group stage of the soccer tournament. When we got into the pickup, I realized that I had left the fan for the defroster on, and the battery was dead.

Back to the bush league, son.

Fortunately we were on a very steep hill, and could roll-start the car. Thing is, I haven't roll-started a car for at least 15 years, and not on a hill this steep and slippery. I failed twice, then Shandu (who has been driving more recently) took over. He got it started-but, unfortunately, put it into a deep ditch.

We had high-centered (the truck was resting on) both the differential and the oil pan while the back wheels were spinning freely. This was a narrow and deep ditch.

We asked a local homestead for tools; they provided a pickax, a second shovel, and a long, heavy, pointed javelin-like piece of iron (looked and weighed like a cave-troll spear from The Lord of the Rings). With these tools we managed, after an hour, to free the car. That hour, however, was punctuated by numerous calls from the soccer coach and the athletic director asking about the pickup truck. Gama explained more than once that it was jammed in a ditch and that they should seek other transportation options (which they did, I guess; I missed the whole game, which really bummed me out-not least because I had killed the car battery which necessitated the roll-start which put the pickup in a ditch, which cost us lost of time...). Anyway, we did get back down the hill. Gama had a very unpleasant incident; while we was pickaxing dirt away from the passenger side of the truck, his hand came down on the pointy end of the radio antenna (the car was at quite a degree of tilt). I thought the antenna just jabbed his hand, which would have been bad enough; turns out the antenna went subcutaneous and traveled about three inches across his palm. I did not know this until later in the day. Gama kept working. Swazis are tough. He later visited the local clinic, where he received an antibiotic shot and tablets.

Anyway, after we got down the hill there was one more valve to check. This is the "400 pounds of development" valve you may remember from 2011 (or was it 2010? Time does slip away). I adjusted that as best I could, hoping it would provide water to both Hlongasibi and Nsukumbili. I was too generous in favor of Hlongasibi, and after getting home, found no water entering the tanks. I got on my bike and pedaled to that same valve, and adjusted it a second time. I phoned Ruth and asked her to see if water was entering the tank; she said it was. I rode back home, about 10 hours after setting out. Got my hot bath and good night's sleep (until about 3AM; more below). The water did go out a second time about noon on Saturday, but that was once again the Hlongasibi valve. Stan Mamba fixed that early Sunday morning, and we've been splashing in water ever since.

So, even though it took 3 men twice as long as it would have taken Mamba, we did the job without him. This is a good thing for the future, as people inevitably come and go. The fact that we could fix the source was really significant; fiddling with valves is important, but relatively easy. Getting water into the system is the crucial step.

HEADS UP!

I mentioned that my good night's sleep ended about 3AM. At that wee hour, Whiskers the cat came into Ruth and mine's room. We don't like the cat in our room, so Ruth asked me to take her out. I felt around on the bed and got a good grip on the feline. I stood up on unsteady legs and, with the help of the backlight on a digital watch, figured I'd found my way out of the mostly-dark room.

We'll, I mostly had, but not quite.

SMACK! went my head on the doorframe. I felt my head and found blood on my fingers. I told Ruth that I'd need a little first aid.

So I sat on the edge of the tub and stopped the bleeding with toilet paper. Then Ruth had me hold another piece of toilet paper soaked in antiseptic to the cut. Next thing I knew, I woke up to find myself laying on the floor next to the toilet with my left hand in the toilet brush bowl.

Man, what was this about?

I asked Ruth, and she said I was sitting on the side of the tub, then I got a funny look on my face (kind of like Frodo's in the Lord of the Rings movies when the Ringwraiths and the Nazgul approach) then I lurched forward and whacked my head on the sink. I sat crumpled on the floor with my head in Jabu's clothes basket next to the sink while Ruth tried to support my head, move my legs, and convince me to lay down on the floor. She failed on all three counts. My eyes were open and I was making noises, but communication was obviously not occurring. After a few minutes of this. Ruth said I came to enough to listen to her and take her direction to lay on the floor (I don't remember this exchange, but I trust Ruth).

I still can't figure out why I passed out. I lost a little blood, but nothing like a serious cut; this was a basketball elbow-above-the-eye-while-competing-for-the-rebound injury.

My wife likes to accompany me in all things. Later in the morning, she and the girls were playing on our bed. Jabu got very excited by all of the commotion and took the 8-inch whelk shell that was in her hands and threw it towards Ruth at point blank range. Ruth crumpled in pain as Jabu looked on in confusion. After the morning's drama, Ruth decided to just lay on the bed for awhile.

SCHOOL DAYS

School goes pretty well. I don't know why, but each year is different. I look back over the years since 2003 and can give a "thumbs up" or "thumbs down" for each one. Perhaps it is the mix of students. For whatever reason, this has been a pleasant experience. If most years went like this one is going, it would be harder to leave. But I have informed the head of my department that this is our last year. I have not told any students, though. One soccer player who has found a place in my heart asked me today "Why were you not at the match?" I explained why--the water, and getting the truck stuck in the ditch, and having to stay back to adjust a valve. "But you were at the Enjubukweni game, right?" Yes I was; we won that game 2-1. "You see, your presence makes a difference." I do not know if he was just being polite or really meant it, but it was touching. "We'll, there's next year" he said at the end of our conversation. For him, yes; but we won't be around. That was a bit hard to realize. But, that's the way it is.

Tell the people you love that you love them. You do not know when you'll have another chance.

A LITTLE NOTE FROM RUTH

I don't know how much this will resonate with you, but I will try. Since I have been here I have realized that one of the characteristics which really marks Americans is a sense that things ought to and will work out for good. If you do what is right, you will succeed. If you work hard, you will prosper. Life will get better even if there are temporary setbacks. Your kids will be better off than you were. One of the hardest things that Americans face here is not seeing progress. We, as a people, are optimists and problem solvers. We will work like a dog to improve things, but we need to see that our labors are effective. When they are ineffective there are several typical reactions. Some quit because their efforts are unappreciated. Some blame the people they work among either individually (saying they are lazy) or collectively (saying they are corrupt). This serves as an easy explanation of the lack of progress. Some despair and detach themselves emotionally or physically. I've at times tried all of these because it is very hard for me to accept that people are facing huge challenges with no easy (or maybe even difficult) solutions.

One thing I have learned is that life goes on. Maybe without electricity. Maybe without nutritious food. Maybe in chronic pain. But it does go on. You work hard to make some progress, then a family emergency demands everything you gathered. And you are glad to give it because you want your Mom or Brother to live. Or you want your kids in school. But you are back to bare subsistence.

What I see here for the majority of folks is no realistic way to get out of bare subsistence. Frankly, bare subsistence is an offense to my American sense of progress. What can you offer in such a situation? What is there to hope for? We have a friend working in HIV education and he says that people won't avoid HIV unless they have hope and a reason to live and that can only come from within their own culture. As Christians we know that our final hope is in heaven. Very few Americans really have their hope set on heaven--we have so many other hopes, but there really aren't many other hopes here.

Anyway, this is a long windup to give you the context of a short experience. I had to go to town the other morning. I ended up waiting a very long time for transport, so I had a lot of time to think when I couldn't do anything. I have been studying I John all year. What struck me was that God desires our love. I could consciously give love to God. He gets a lot of grief; he deserves a little extra love. So I did that, just sending up love while I was sitting. I realized that this is a gift that everyone can give in every circumstance. You can have everything or nothing and still give this gift. You can lose your health and still give it. If you never get past bare subsistence you can still give it.

As we plan to return to the US and face a great deal of uncertainties, I've been recently reciting our wedding vows as a prayer "For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness or in health..." meaning, "No matter what happens, I love you, Lord" or in the words of a Steve Taylor Song "You don't owe me nothing, need I even say, you don't owe me nothing." I think I am coming to learn some value in knowing that life goes on and everything doesn't have to work out right in this life. We Americans have it right after all--it can all work out well, for everybody; we just need to move our time frame to eternity.

Have a good day,

The Poglitshs

Saturday, April 14, 2012

WHACK THE MOLE AT THE SPEED OF LIGHT
In the last newsletter I mentioned Mfundo Khanyile, who had is questions about how scientists know the sun stands 150 million kilometers distant. More recently Mfundo's class began investigating mirrors. We talked about how the image in a mirror is the same shape as the object, how the image is laterally inverted (the left side of the object looks like the right side in the mirror), etc. I also gave them a fun mirror game: during a lunch break on a sunny day, take a palm-sized piece of mirror in hand and stand a long distance away from a group of students. Then, surreptitiously open your hand and reflect a brilliantly-bright spot into the eyes of a fellow student. The unwitting student "standing in the limelight" will cover their eyes and look for the source of the light. Then, close your palm again and look away. After a minute, choose another target and repeat. I learned this trick from students in Mississippi.

I had a bathroom mirror with me this day, and after the lesson passed by this classroom on the outside. The sun shone brightly, and so I "practiced what I preached" by reflecting a not-palm-sized light into that class. Of course some students saw the bright spot on the wall and stood up to see where it came from. They got it in the eyes. When they sat down with stinging eyes, other students wanted to know what was going on, so they stood up (this was between classes, so I didn't disturb any colleagues' teaching) and looked out the window. I directed my spot at them next. We continued our game for about half a minute. It reminded me of my mom's favorite amusement park game, where mechanical moles randomly pop out of 5 or 6 holes on the playing surface and the player gets points for whacking them with a big foam mallet. The difference was my students were flashing their wonderful smiles and laughing all the time. I laughed too.

WHAT'S IN A NAME, THE SEQUEL
My desk sits beside Stan Mamba's, the SiSwati teacher. He recently showed me a student's test paper. "Hey, Sg'coko (my nickname), look at this. This question asked the students to name a word from another language which has been adapted into SiSwati. This student wrote 'poglishi'". How about that; we will have left a language legacy here in Dlangeni. I wonder what "poglishi" means to the students.

LIVE WIRE
A couple Friday's ago, the same Stan Mamba and I set out to splice an electrical cable which a student had inadvertently chopped while tilling some soil. We could not locate the key to the room to make sure the power was turned off, so we gingerly touched the cut ends together to see if they sparked. No spark, no problem, so we drew out my decade-old electrical tools and proceeded with the splice. After the repair we tucked the wire away beneath a line of concrete blocks so that it won't get cut again.

Later, Stan told me that students found the switch controlling power to that cord in the "on" position. Either another problem exists along that line, or we were just lucky not to get a 220 volt zap on this job.

EASTER TRIDUUM
Last Friday, April 6th, we boarded Shining Star bus to Mbabane to celebrate the Easter weekend ("Triduum" refers to Good Friday, Holy Saturday, and Easter Sunday). We had the treat of having Yenzile with us on this trip, as she would otherwise have been at the school with no other children around (most people go to their home or church for Easter weekend; Yenzie's family was not going anywhere, so we asked her parents if we could take her with us, and they agreed). We had a great few days. The nuns in Mbabane let us stay in the small accommodation beneath the chapel, so lodging was free and close to the church. The girls got to spend 6 hours in 2 days at the park, a place where they love to play but which they almost never visit for that length of time due to logistical constraints on most trips to the capital. And the girls got three consecutive slumber parties with Yenzie, a treat beyond compare.

The high point for me was Saturday night, the occasion of the 4-hour Easter vigil. We put all the girls to sleep before the 8PM Mass began, and I checked on them once during the service. I found them all asleep when I looked in on them. Ruth and I enjoyed the alternately solemn and exuberant service summarizing salvation history, from Creation to the Resurrection. When Ruth and I came back around midnight, they were all up. "We've been partying!" shouted a smiling Kit. Turns out Grace got violently ill after I checked on them, and Jabu got to shouting for some reason. The girls were excited to tell us how it all happened, and after an hour they were all happily sleeping again. Easter Sunday at the park was, however, a lot calmer than the day before; they were some tired girls after their "party".

SET 'EM UP, KNOCK 'EM DOWN-HOW TO DISPATCH CROP PESTS
This week the water went out. It's been a long time, and I must admit I was excited "to go to the mountain" (as Mamba puts it) to set things right. Mbuyiseni Gama, the school groundskeeper, came along. The fix was routine and easy; within a few hours we had water in the taps again.

Such occasions provide opportunities to share stories from our respective lives. Mbuyiseni described how to dispatch monkeys raiding a corn field. Turns out monkeys are smarter than your average crop pest; they will set a "lookout man" to make sure the coast is clear, while the other simians steal the crop. Mbuyiseni said that if you manage to shoot, with your first shot, that lookout monkey, the others will return to their recently-deceased colleague for some reason. You then get to dispatch the rest of the troupe, like ducks in a shooting gallery. We all laughed and wondered aloud what would happen if Mbuyiseni had one of the rapid-fire shotguns the security guys transporting large amounts of cash in Mbabane carry. He quickly explained that he does not roam the countryside looking for animals to kill, but only shoots to protect his produce. Fair enough.

AJ PLAYS DLANGENI
On this same trip Mamba's truck radio was set to the Swaziland Broadcasting Service; we caught the mid-morning show, which carries American country-western music. It's been nearly a decade since I heard Alan Jackson's song "Chattahootchie" (my apologies to CW fans if I misspelled that), but I heard it today. Fixing the water on a sunny day in the country with AJ on the soundtrack was a perfect fit. I learned a country line-dance to this song in early 1994, just after I returned to the States from Swaziland after my Peace Corps experience. Which brings us to our next subject.

TRANSITION (by Ruth)
Dear Friends and Family,

We have an important decision to share with you. We moved to Swaziland in January 2003; January 2013 will see us moving back to the US. This has been a challenging decision to make. Rudy has lived in Swaziland longer than any other place in his life. This is the only life that our girls have known. The weather here is probably some of the best on the planet. We are surrounded by a lovely natural environment. We will be leaving good friends. We will be leaving a lifestyle that has been supportive of good family relations and a non-materialistic focus.

When we first came, we planned for Rudy to teach for 3-5 years and then move into something else. Rudy's heart hasn't been in teaching for awhile. In this context, a classroom education has very little value for most of the young people at our school. If one Nsukumbili graduate gets into the university it is a good year for the school. For the rest, knowing how a blast furnace operates and how to test for the presence of carbon dioxide is not too relevant. At one point we seriously considered trying to switch to working for an NGO doing agricultural work in this area. We were wisely counseled to start doing something small while employed, to test the waters and to wait until our children were older. We tested the waters and realized that most people in this community are primarily focused on other tasks and only do agriculture when other more important tasks are finished. Agriculture ranks even with washing the dishes on the interest scale, and for good reasons. Good agriculture demands good fencing, water, labor, and inputs. Those things are in short supply at most homesteads. People would much rather look for paid employment than try to make a living off their land, and for many people that makes good economic sense.

In the meantime, my health has deteriorated. I am extremely allergic to things and have developed asthma (which is common for people who move here). Our GP, Doctor Wasswa, has said that because of the irritation to my lungs from the asthma, I need to go on antibiotics every time I catch a cold to keep from developing persistent and difficult-to-treat sinus infections. These conditions clear up when we go back to the US for visits.

The girls like the house, their friends, and living at the teacher housing, but they are tired of being stared at like circus animals (from other girls) and the marriage proposals (from the guys) whenever we go out into the community or to town. I was so used to immigrant children in the US picking up English in a year that I did not envision how difficult it would be for children to learn the local language in a place where English is the second language, where education is done in English, and where the children are homeschooled. As the girls have gotten older, this has increasingly become an issue; it hinders their relationships and their ability to enjoy life here.

As we considered our situation, we decided that it was time to return to the US and for Rudy to move into work more suitable to his personality and interests. He spent a lot of time in the early part of this year looking at what he really enjoys and is good at doing. He now has a one page summary of his
interests and abilities. Rudy likes spending a significant amount of time outdoors. He enjoys doing concrete tasks and physical work. He prefers to be part of a team and enjoys interacting with both co-workers and strangers. His interests include Catholic and general
Christian apologetics/theology, pro-life issues, hiking and biking, and marriage and family life. We were repeatedly advised that Rudy would be very well suited to work at a Christian camp. We are looking into that possibility.

My family lives in Orlando, and my sister's family bought a house just down the street from their previous house. They have generously offered to let us stay in their "old" house during our transition time. This will allow the cousins to spend a significant amount of time together and allow our girls to adjust to life in the US in an easy environment. I am really looking forward to that time too. Rudy would spend that time picking up some training and getting some experience that would be helpful for our next step.

The current plan is that after a year in Orlando we would move to a place with a more interesting physical environment where Rudy could work at a camp, a park, or in another natural resources-type job. Rudy really enjoyed Colorado in college. We are considering Wyoming or the other Rocky Mountain States too. Our children have been singing, "Yippie-ay-yai-a, get along little dogies for you know that Wyoming will be your new home". A friend wants us to move to Alaska. We will see what happens.

We will keep you appraised as we make this transition. If you know people who work in parks, camps, or other jobs with a significant outdoor component, especially in the Rocky Mountain States, we would be very interested to get in contact with them to get a better feel for those fields.

Thank you for your love and support. We will keep sending newsletters until our time in Swaziland is very short.

Sincerely,
Ruth

PS-Rudy here again. After we fixed the water, I told Mamba that this is increasingly looking like our last year. We had a brief but difficult discussion; it seemed to me (though maybe I'm reading into this) that his body language indicated he was disappointed that we may really leave. Our first contact was when I loaned him a hacksaw to modify a desk frame to make a barbeque stand; I will really miss our various handyman jobs together. We still have almost 8 months here, and I will try to avoid "marking the days". I told Mamba, maybe we should sabotage the water system every night and go out and fix it every day. We laughed.

Saturday, March 31, 2012

The silver bike. Can't wait to see Sibusiso's face when he realizes it's his!

The new bike. Love the low gearing.

Muzi Khanyile, budding astronomer.

Jabu enjoys the burning.

St. Allexus congregation, 2005. Zasho is in the front fow, blue coat, hands in praying position.

Girls stoking the flames.

I never met a mouse I didn't like. They taste like chicken.

Whiskers contemplates a catch.

Jabulane Gama

28, 29, 31.....
Now 32 and counting! That's the number of mice Whiskers, our gift-cat, has caught and killed since she arrived at our house. We felt some initial trepidation about Whiskers, as she spent the first 2 or 3 days hiding behind the furniture or the fridge. She has come into her own, and unfortunately, she also likes to come into the house with her not-quite-dead mice. Still, we appreciate her taste for rodents as it reduces the presence of snakes (which also like mice) and increases the cat's protein intake (and vary her diet; I can't imagine what it's like to eat the very same thing day after day).

My favorite catch took place when we had a guest trying to set up his phone to access email. We were patiently tapping away on the phone keys when Whiskers entered the living room, furry gray snack in mouth. Our family forgot we had a guest, and the "Get out cat!" and "Whiskers has a mouse in the house!" cries went up as they always do at such times. In the uproar she dropped the mouse while momentum carried her forward; she could get no traction on the poured concrete floors. She turned as fast as she could and started scrambling back for the mouse, like a hockey player chasing a loose puck. She reasserted her grip on the furball and fled down the hallway, into the girls' room, and hid under one of the beds. I pursued and bellowed at her and thumped on the mattresses (nothing like having a dying mouse lying under someone's bed to make for unpleasant dreams) and flushed her out. She ran back into the living room. With some more shouts and waving arms, we chased her out of the house. Once the cat was outside we remembered our guest (Yenzile's dad) and apologized for the noise and chaos; he smiled and told us not to worry about it.

The cat has caught two or three a day recently; we suspect it is because Mr. Gama is cutting the 5-foot-tall grass down to size, thus destroying safe havens for the mice. And Whiskers continues to grow in girth and sleekness of coat!

TO CATCH A THIEF
Jabulane Gama is the school's gatekeeper, tracking who enters and leaves the school and ringing the bell to mark the periods. During the course of a day he also wanders about the school grounds, keeping an eye on things. One Friday afternoon he relayed to me a good story. I will relate his story in his "voice", to reduce the use of quotation marks.

One day I was walking in the school garden, and came across some students eating Mr. Mamba's sugar cane. "Oh, please Mr. Gama, do not report us to the Deputy", they said. "Alright", I said, "write your names on a piece of paper and give me some money, and I will not report you." "Oh, thank you" they said. I took the piece of paper with their names and did not take their money, and I gave the paper with the names to the Deputy.

Some might cry "Entrapment!", but the theft was ended and the guilty party positively identified. I suppose, however, such a trick works just once.

THE PLANETS
A few weeks ago the Form 3 students and I began discussing light. Lew topics always start out slow, this time with "sources of light"-things like candles, electric bulbs, and the sun. I asked them how far away the sun is. No one knew, so I told them: 150 million kilometers.

One student raised his hand and asked, "How do they know that?" At the moment I could neither remember what I was told about how that distance was known, nor how it could be calculated. After shamefacedly admitting my ignorance, I praised this young man for asking the question "How do you know that?" I told him it took me about 30 years of life to start asking that question of things ("It must be true if it's in print" dies hard), and that it is a very good question to ask. So much Swazi education is rote memorization, and rote memorization certainly has its place. Unfortunately, Swazi education attaches very little value to critical or higher-level thinking, while the end of Form 3 and end of Form 5 tests do.

So I used the internet via our cell phone (that's old news to you guys, but it still impresses me) and found a website that explains how it is done using simple geometry. The next day I presented the answer to them. They have not had enough math yet, I think, to grasp it. But the overall exercise was a good one.

SLEEPOVER
A few Fridays back Ruth hosted her afternoon Girls Club activity. The afternoon wore on, the clouds turned dark, and suddenly we found ourselves in a downpour. Phayo Gama lives a short distance from the school, but we were hardly going to send her home in a thunderstorm after dark. Yenzie lives on the school compound, but shoot-if Phayo was spending the night, why not Yenzie too? The membership of the Phi Omega Gamma (POG) sorority swelled to 6 this evening. Unlike most sleepovers, though, they couldn't have movies and popcorn; the storm knocked out the electricity. I don't think they missed it.

FIRST AID
In our last newsletter I mentioned "Friday Afternoon Improv", wherein we fixed the water in part by stomping the head of a shovel into the ground to make up for the fact that we had no proper shovel with us. I said that my knees still ached from the experience. The pain and reduced mobility in the right knee continued long enough (three weeks) to really worry me, so we went to nearby (2 hour drive) Nelspruit, South Africa (with the generosity of our friend Daran Rehmeyer) to have an MRI and see an orthopedic surgeon. The MRI did not show anything conclusive, and a better pair of shoes, some anti-inflammatories, and changing my exercise routine has much reduced the symptoms-though running and slam-dancing are no longer an option.

A couple of years ago I received some sage advice about age and health: don't talk about your age-related health issues, as most people (outside spouse and maybe immediate family) don't really want to hear it. This was my first big opportunity to keep my mouth shut. Still, we were going to miss church on the Sunday before we went to Nelspruit, and wanted to explain why we would not be there. We sent a text message explaining the situation. We later learned that the congregation prayed for us. That was very touching.

Equally touching was last Saturday morning when the three older girls and I stood at the bus station, awaiting to board Shining Star Bus. The bus pulled up, stopped, and off hopped Zasho Khanyile, a member of the St. Allexus church we attend. Zasho is quite a character. He is an old Swazi man who usually wears animal skins and traditional clothing to church. His voice is rough and gravelly. When he speaks, people pay attention. I would hate to have him angry at me. He is the grandfather of Lungsile and Nsiki Tfwala, the daughters (and friends of our girls) of a teacher who left Nsukumbili several years ago. Zasho is of inestimable age and can be seen moving about the community, reminiscent of an itinerant prophet. This Saturday morning he hurried over to me and tapped my knee, asking how it was. I told him it was much improved, and he said that the church had prayed for us. I gave him my heartfelt thanks, and he quickly reboarded the bus. It is good to have friends-and praying friends!

FREE WHEELING
Wishing to continue bike riding but not wanting to damage my knee in the process, I started wondering how I could make bicycling easier on my legs. A friend said getting a lower set of gears on my bike would help. I spent some time wondering how to get a new gear arrangement, when some long-lost friends in Mbabane called and said they had a bike they wished to donate. We had lost contact, so they called the bike shop in town and got our number that way.

Long and short-the new bike has 27 speeds, and the overall gearing is lower. Perfect!

The shop also connected our family with a Dutchman staying in Swaziland until early May. He and his family (wife, 2 children, and one on the way) are traveling the world via four different locations for a year (Berkeley, CA; Swaziland; Chile; Vietnam, in quarterly installments). They are, understandably, looking to cut costs wherever possible. He wants to do some biking, and the bike shop told him we live in a good place for it. We loaned him my silver bike and Grace's bike; when he returns them both, we will pass the silver bike to Sibusiso Gama, the young man in this community who loves to cycle but is always riding 4th hand bikes and trying to keep them together with used bubble gum and grass substituting for brake cables (not really, but it seems like that). The Dutchman got the rear gear changer tuned at the bike shop, so "Sibu" will get a better bike than I had. We can't wait to see his face when he realizes the silver bike is now his. These charitable donations sure are nice; thanks, friends.

MABUZA
Sometime before 2006 (I should keep better track of dates), Khetsile Dlamini (daughter of former headmaster M.K. Dlamini and his wife Ruth) said, in the course of conversation, "You know, Rudy, that I'm married." "Uh, no, I did not know that until just now." I walked home for lunch and told Ruth, "You know what Khetsile just told me? She's married." Ruth said I looked stunned, like I had just been told that the moon is indeed made of cheese and that men really are from Mars and women really are from Venus. We had absolutely no clue at that time that she was even thinking of getting married. News travels mighty slow at times around here.

Her husband's last name was Mabuza, and sadly, we learned two weeks ago that he died after a short illness. Khetsile is now a widow with two small children. They had been married seven years at most. At least Khetsile has good family in M.K. and Ruth, and in his side of the family also. Please keep Khetsile and so many other women in similar circumstances in your prayers.

FIRE CREW
One evening this week the girls rushed outside to help Mr. Shandu with his fire. Shandu was trying to reduce the small stand of very tall grass in his backyard. Such stands can be cut with a weedwhacker- but fire is fast, and fun. Our girls used to lament the fires which burn during the (dry) winters here; this time they enthusiastically collected piles of grass, twisted them into bundles, and tried to spread the fire throughout the thicket. Perhaps they are becoming a little Africanized.

FIRE CREW II
Wednesday afternoon Grace ran into the house breathless saying "The trees are on fire!" "Which trees? Our avocado trees?" "Yes!" responded Grace.

Out we ran, and sure enough, someone's trash pit fire had escaped. It's been a low-rain summer, and this is the time of year when the grass turns brown and ready to burn. Though this fire had the potential to do a lot of damage, a bunch of other teachers were already out there dousing and beating down the flames; the fire did not escape the school ground, and only one or two avocado trees will be affected (and will survive just fine I think). It is particularly important that the fire did not go past the school fence into the larger community; if it had reached any corn fields (the ears are still on the plants and the stalks are drying out) it could have destroyed some portion of some families' staple food crop. It was great to see the teachers pull together on very short notice and stomp the flames.

[Note from Ruth: This was the first time I have ever seen a group of people here jump in quickly to put out a fire. Usually fires are viewed with indifference. I don't know if the difference was that the teachers knew that Rudy cared about the avocado trees or if they didn't want it escaping out of the school grounds. But it was nice to have everyone working together.]

Have a good day,
The Poglitshs in Swaziland

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

After the girls knocked the dirt off the termite pole.

"Sudsbuster" Poglitsh

Bernanke, eat your heart out.

"I went to a garden party, to reminisce with my old friends"

Cub and the mud-covered termite stick.

Normal (background) and termite-attacked poles.

JABULILE MAMBA-KHOZA
We have mentioned that Jabu likes to visit her friend Sinathemba Mamba (daughter of handyman Stan Mamba). She also enjoys visiting Ms. Khoza, the school secretary who lives on the other side of the duplex from Sinathemba. Not infrequently we find our daughter does not eat very much dinner-because the Mambas or Khozas have given her corn on the cob or (most recently) a sit-down (on the floor) meal of rice and fish.

Ruth and I were joking recently that we were very exacting and careful with the first three girls-making sure they were properly dressed, that they sat as they should at the table and ate their three square meals a day, knowing their whereabouts at all times, etc. With Jabu, we've grown much "looser" in our childcare, farming out much of the supervision to the older girls and losing track of her for an hour or more at a time (knowing that we can always find her next door in good hands). I related this conversation to Ms. Khoza, and before I began giving details about clothing, eating meals, etc. Khoza smiled and said "You don't care about Jabu." She did not mean to say we don't love her; just that we've slackened the reins quite a bit. Khoza and I both laughed.

SECRETARY OF THE RESERVE, JABU POGLITSH
One way Ruth found to keep Jabu at home for a couple of hours is to put her on our bed with a pile of coins and a cupcake tin. She will pick up, sort, re-sort, and play with money for two solid hours. Ruth has wondered if people like money so much just because it is such fun to handle. Jabu sure thinks so. Who needs television (the "electronic babysitter") when you have coins?

She's also enamored with washing clothes; we'll frequently find her sitting on the floor or outside with (or without) a basin of water and some random sock or other piece of fabric, going through the motions of hand washing it. I suppose of all the games she could play, this one might really help in the future.

GARDEN PARTY
This past weekend Sakhiwo and Swakhile Dlamini, daughter and son of teacher N.M. Dlamini, came for one of their occasional visits. They attend school closer to N.M.'s homestead, where his wife also stays. To celebrate, a half-dozen kids put together a "chocolate" baking session and enjoyed their confections on a backyard picnic table. It was great to see them having a good time together-and they are astonishingly creative with their baked goods.

TERMITES
The older girls and I wandered about the yard Sunday morning before going to church. We visited a small garden plot established by a student last year as part of his agriculture project. After he finished his project, we inherited it and tried some carrots, beans, pumpkin, and beets. This Sunday morning we found one of the wooden poles used to hold strings that the beans could climb was covered in mud. A closer examination revealed that termites had moved in. After taking some pictures, the girls whacked the infested pole to see what was underneath. Sure enough, the termites had eaten a good portion of the top of the pole. This is not something I am familiar with; it sure was interesting.

WHAT'S BEHIND DOOR #3?
Y'all remember the TV game show "Let's Make A Deal" with Monty Hall? A few weeks ago I heard strange sounds coming from the agriculture storeroom. Gingerly opening the door, I found a handful of schoolboys playing cards. Turns out they do not have a teacher for technical drawing (hasn't been one for 3 years; he's been getting training in Botswana and he wasn't replaced). They closed the door and returned to their card game. I came back later, kicked open the doors, snapped some photos, and laughed my head off. I promised I would not show the pictures to the deputy; after they knew that, they were happy to see themselves on "film". I don't really blame them for doing what they did; what are they supposed to do with no teacher? They could be into a whole lot worse things than blackjack with a free period.

FRIDAY AFTERNOON IMPROV-FOR THE LAST TIME
On the 24th of February Mamba, Mbuyiseni Gama and I went out to fix the water. Mamba's "set and cap" program-wherein he sets critical valves along the line so that all parties get sufficient water, then covers those valves with 200-300 pounds of concrete-has eliminated tampering as a cause for water outage. These days, we go straight to the main tanks from the source and check things from there.

We found water entering the tanks at a very slow rate. That meant a trip to the source. At the source, we found very little suction on the intake pipe. Mamba decided we needed to get more water above the pipe, thus increasing the pressure and pushing water down into the pipe. This meant raising the water level, which meant packing the bottom of the pool with clumps of soil to plug the escape routes under the dam. But, we had no shovel.

"We were supposed to have brought a spade", said Mamba.

I have described Mamba's chronic aversion to bringing tools. Generally he also says, when it's just a little too late to return to the school, "You know, we made one mistake. We should have brought..." This day, I started a mental list of tools to bring on every job. When I got home, I wrote this short list on a piece of paper and stuck it to a bookshelf where the keys to our school water tanks hang. From the next trip onward, I resolved, we would have lots of tools-just in case. No more looking around for discarded plastic grocery bags, or improvising hammers, etc etc. Whenever Mamba says "You know, what we need is..." that item will go on the list and travel with us the next time out.

Back to the present-at this point, we were a 20 minute walk from the nearest homestead where we might borrow a shovel, and a shovel we absolutely needed.

I mentioned to the others that the last time we were up here, we found the head of a shovel lying around. I had no idea now where it was. Gama wandered off for 5 minutes and came back with that rusty, handle-free shovel. Unbelievable. Still, it will be the LAST time when I'm helping that it will happen.

Ever tried to dig using a shovel with no handle? I got my chance a week and a half ago. Gama would hold the shovel in place, and I would stomp it down with my boots-working hard, of course, not to amputate his fingers. It required the same action as stomping aluminum drink cans into hockey pucks for recycling. My knees still ache from the experience. One more reason I will always carry plenty of tools in the future.

We got the water running-for about half a week. Last Thursday, we returned to the tanks-this time, with lotsa tools!

At one point we had to slide two pipes apart from each other. "You know", said Mamba, "it's too bad we didn't bring soap."

"WHO didn't bring soap!" I gleefully shouted, simultaneously pulling a small plastic bag with bits of bar soap in it from my pocket. Earlier in the week Mamba had said that he would have appreciated having some soap on a previous trip, when he needed to connect some pipes. I'm pretty sure the soap did not help get the pipes apart this day, but the fact that he had a bit of material he wanted-and did not expect to have-was great fun for both of us. I may become a walking pile of shovels, rakes, bowsaws, pliers, pipes, soap chips, PVC cutters, keys, plastic burlap bags, zip ties, etc. on our water outings-but I look forward to the extinction of the phrase "You know, we should have brought..."

Hoping YOU carry enough tools for your next project, we bid you-
Salani kahle ("stay well")
Rudy for the Poglitshs

Saturday, February 11, 2012

Africa Dispatch
Hello again! We really enjoy producing these newsletters; here is our latest.

PHOTO UPDATES
I loaded a bunch of photos onto poglitshphotos.blogspot.com from our January trip to Mlilwane Nature Reserve with the Brocks. I also posted a number of other photos there today. This most recent batch is drawn from the "archives" and have no particular order or theme; I just like them. For a nice set of photos of the countryside out here, go to the "Trek 1" post. Visit and enjoy!

ONLY YOU CAN PREVENT FOREST FIRES (RUTH)
Nowhere is the gap between American and Swazi culture larger than in our attitudes towards fires. A prime example of this occurred last week. I walked outside and noticed an unusual amount of smoke (between trash and cooking fires some smoke, of varying degrees of noxiousness, is often present). I decided to walk around the house to investigate. I found the school grounds ablaze. The fire had escaped from the trash pit and torched the grass. Since some grass was quite tall, it was blazing vigorously. What I found interesting was the total lack of concern. Several students were loitering near (but not in the smoke of) the fire. One student (the one who started the fire?) walked up, dumped more trash in the pit, and walked off. I have learned to be much less concerned about these things, but when the fire started heading under our neighbors parked tractor, I reached my limit. With visions of melted tires and exploding gas tanks in my head I went and told the tractor owner's wife about the situation. She turned on a hose that reached about half way to the tractor and sent out a 12 year old who looked at the situation and decided that it deserved his watchful eye, but not his action. I got my watering can and using the water from the hose put out the fire near the tractor. Grace and Selu (a 6 year old neighbor boy) had a high time beating out the fire with leafy branches. Rudy was walking past on his way out of the school grounds and grabbed a student who filled a trash can with water and between the kids and the two of them they put out the side of the fire that was spreading into the school grounds. Rudy then left to take a much-needed walk (does fire apathy now afflict him?) I saw a couple of students filling a bucket. "Good", I thought, "we will get some help now." I had to refill my watering can so I rudely cut in at the faucet (there is a fire happening here after all). The students walked off in the opposite direction with their bucket of water; they had been filling it so that they could mop their classroom. Not once did I see any school staff or students show the slightest interest in the situation. At this point the fire was crossing the fence into a wooded and weedy area of the school garden. Grace and Selu were still dancing around beating out the remnants of the fire that hadn't crossed the fence and at that point I gave up. I told them not to go into the school grounds (there was a lot of fuel there and it could be dangerous) and I went home. I figured if no one else cared, I wasn't going to either.It turned out that in spite of my visions of apocalypse, the fire in the school gardens did burn itself out and didn't incinerate everything in the garden and in the surrounding countryside. Maybe everyone here knows that fires won't cross plowed fields full of green maize. Maybe a few semi-wild peach trees aren't that important. Maybe the garden benefits from occasional fires to help keep the brush down. I don't think I will ever fully understand or appreciate this aspect of Swazi culture.

SCHOOL HAS STARTED
During the school break the government and head teachers were fussing about the OVC bursaries (orphaned and vulnerable children scholarships). The headmasters said they would have nothing to do with the selection process. The government is broke so many parents and guardians were concerned that there would be no money available. I thought the headmasters were unfeeling, but finally got a report which explained their concerns. It turns out that in a bid to fight corruption, there is a commission to punish those who fraudulently give or get OVC bursaries. The principles don't want to be hauled in for corruption. One of their complaints is that there is no definition of a "vulnerable" child. How can they be expected to identify such children and then be liable for prosecution if they don't choose them correctly?School did start and the OVC's were admitted, but school fees are so high now that the government money doesn't cover the cost of the fees. Even the neediest child has to pay E600 during the year, not to mention uniform costs. That amount is roughly equivalent to a month's salary at a poorly-paid job or two weeks at a reasonably paid low-level job. Our school is one of the cheapest. In town, OVC's may need to pay E3,000-E5,000. Most people come up with the money, but it is a mad and stressful scramble. One friend reported that her mother had to go to the hospital because of the stress of getting her children's school fees (but everything did get taken care of). Another friend was very distressed when the rains caused one of their houses to collapse. All of her money had gone to school fees and there wasn't enough to buy the nails to rebuild. But, against the odds, once again she has all of her children and her dead sibling's children in school. A couple of students at the school applied for a St. Vincent de Paul bursary. The scholarship fund doesn't announce its decisions for new applicants until after school has started. This left parents and guardians in a great state of uncertainty, but at least one Nsukumbili student was selected for this year.

LAY UP TREASURES IN HEAVEN
Kit asked me to read her a story the other day. In it there was the verse "Don't lay up your treasures on earth where moth and rust corrupt and where thieves break in and steal; but lay up for yourself treasures in heaven where moth and rust do not corrupt and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also." She was asking what it meant to lay up treasure in heaven. That brought to mind a verse we used at the Tuesday night children's meeting when Jesus was judging, "I was hungry and you fed me, I was sick and you visited me...whatever you did unto the least of these my brethren, you did it unto me." So I said, "Well Kit, today I went to the clinic to make sure our friend got proper medicine, and then Sibane had a cut finger and I bandaged that. Make Silolo came over and wanted a cold drink of water because she and Lungile were thirsty. And they were hungry so we made them a sandwich." Jesus says that all of these things were done for him and they are laid up as treasure in heaven." That is one advantage of living here: we do have more opportunities to do these little things in an average day for people outside of our family. Later in the evening I was opening up a bag where we keep the shoes that don't currently fit our children. Faith and Hope had outgrown their shoes and needed to change out. There was a strange smell and I had to take out and clean several pairs of shoes that had white fuzz growing on them. That evening I also had to talk to one of our neighbor kids who has apparently taken a few of our toys home with him. Hopefully it will be a good character building experience for him; he will return the toys, and things will go well. We will see what happens. But these things do remind me that mold and thievery and sickness and poverty and the ugly side of human nature are part of our experiences here on earth. In many ways, living in Swaziland has taught me to make peace with many of these unpleasant aspects of life. My brother was saying that we often have a discrepancy between what we believe in our heads and the way we live. We say, "God is my provider," then we worry excessively about money. That struck me since Rudy and I have been working on a transition plan as to what we will do when we return to the US. That has forced us to think about what it costs to live in the US and job options in an economy that is less robust than it was when we left 10 years ago. We may be faced with the irony that we might earn 3-4 times as much and have less discretionary income. Thinking through these things has helped me to examine where my treasure is. We do a lot to avoid the unpleasant experiences of poverty, physical pain, and death. We also do a lot to build up stockpiles and assurances so that we can allay our fears associated with every scenario where we could suffer poverty, physical pain, and death. In the first situation we are responding to actual events and easily foreseen future events. In the second we are responding to imaginary possibilities. After living in a place where poverty, physical pain, and death are common (and unpleasant--don't get me wrong), I am confronting my fears about these "what if" scenarios. I am not advocating living without any margin-where there are no savings and any little unplanned event causes a major crisis-but I am learning that the world wouldn't end even if one or more of those experiences were to occur in my life. Those events can't touch my treasure if it is in heaven and tough situations give us special opportunities to increase in faith, hope, and love and build up more treasure in heaven. I am slowly getting these things in my head, but we will see how they translate into my life.

ROAD TRIPS (Rudy)
This weekend we went to town for the surprise birthday party of a friend, and spent the night at the Youth With A Mission (YWAM) campus. The whole experience went well, and what struck me most was how well our daughters travel. We wake them up around 6AM on such mornings, and they complete their entire morning routine (potty, dress, brush hair, shoes and socks) in about 45 minutes-just in time to walk out the door to the bus station. Bear in mind we have four daughters 9 and under, the youngest of whom will be 2 in April. They then patiently endure (better than dad, I suspect) the uncertainty of when and how we will get to town (will Shining Star bus come this way this morning? Will we take a kombi? Will we find our places in the back of a pickup truck? Will it rain while we stand here? How will the roads be?). When the transport came (it was a kombi) they endured the sardine-like conditions for the 45 minute trip without a bit of whining or complaining. After a bite of food (their first in the two hours after getting out of bed), they trooped around town with mom while dad ran other errands. They then sat through "boring grown-up conversation" between mom, dad and a Peace Corps Volunteer (though they did get sodas and ice cream) for an hour. Then they waited around for our lift to the party; this waiting included running and playing at the pickup point near a grocery store as customers streamed in and out of the shop. They showed no signs of feeling like the gypsy/vagabond that dad did. They then gleefully piled into the back of our friend's SUV ("Wow, we get to sit in the FAR BACK!") and traveled well all the way to the party.After the festivities we got dropped off at the YWAM campus and made dinner-canned baked beans on spaghetti, seasoned with leftover Ramen noodle mushroom seasoning packets. Again, no complaining. I very much doubt I would have been so sanguine about such a meal when I was their age(s). We all bedded down in one big room and slept quite well.At 8:15 the next (rainy) morning, they again coped well with the uncertainty of getting into town (YWAM is too far from the city center to walk, and Grace had a mildly-twisted ankle, and we did not have any umbrellas to deal with the rain); but when I whistled and shouted that the taxi driver had indeed found the place, they trotted as fast as they could to get in the car. After Mass, the Rugumambaju's (our Ugandan friends) packed us into their compact car and dropped us off near the ATM. We got money, jogged over to the bus rank, boarded the next kombi to Dlangeni, and an hour later entered the front door. The girls were magnificent, and this is not rare for them. I am very proud of them. I like to think they are gaining useful skills in coping and being helpful and having fun in different situations, even when they are not exactly sure what is going to happen next.

JABZILLA ATTACKS THE BANANA PLANTATION
The photo says it all. We recently purchased a very large bunch of bananas (about 200) from a community member, and they quickly ripened. Jabu likes bananas-for eating, but especially for peeling. We found a pile of peeled bananas and their peels sitting beside the front door. See here where Jabzilla peeled one of the sweet yellow fruits and told the Chevy Tahoe where to get off. Call in the jeep-mounted rocket launcher-Jabzilla is on the loose!

PRAYER REQUEST
On Sunday February 5th Jabu and I went for a bike ride. As on previous outings, I got warnings of Jabu's immediate demise ("She'll fall!") and requests to take her (I still can't get my head around this one: "Yeah sure, here, take my daughter home with you forever. She's yours! Enjoy!") and the much-tamer "I am asking for sweets".Climbing one of the last hills towards home, we passed two grade-school boys. One of them started in: "I am asking" (and I braced myself for the money/sweets petition) "that God" (oh boy, this kid's gonna try to leverage me with an appeal to God) "will give you a boy".I was stunned. Having a son is a big deal here, as they inherit the homestead, care for you when you are old, and maintain the family name. In regular conversations I gently explain that we don't mind if we have boys or girls, because we love all the children God gives us. But the gravity, sincerity and selflessness of this boy's request caught me off-guard. I just said "Thank you very much". If he really prays with the same conviction and earnestness with which he explained his prayer request, I would not be surprised if God grants him his wish. We would be fine with that.

MOVIE RECOMMENDATION
Sunday night is movie night at our house. This Sunday we watched Bella, starring Eduardo Verastegui and Tammy Blanchard. If you would like a movie that does not have 1) violence, 2) foul language, and 3) gratuitous sex; but DOES have 1) interesting characters, 2) personal loss, rescue, and redemption, 3) unexpected plot twists, 4) family values (but not overdone so as to distract from the story), 5) great music, and 6) a happy ending, then PG 13-rated (for seriousness of themes and a non-glamorous car crash) Bella is for you. It won the people's award at the Toronto Film Festival. Highly recommended. Enjoy.Have a great day!The Poglitshs

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

Dear Family and Friends

A couple of years ago I [Ruth] had a rough time at Christmas. We were in Swaziland and needed to be in Mbabane on Christmas day for church. Since there is no transport early enough on Christmas Day, we had to go into town a couple days ahead of the 25th. We were having trouble finding a place to stay. We pondered staying at a hotel. I had visions of going from inn to inn looking for a place to stay. Finally, Sr. Beni, an Italian nun working in Swaziland since 1968, said that we could stay at a little guest room at the church. That room had no cooking facilities. I was faced with the prospect of Christmas away from extended family, away from my house, away from all Christmas food, and feeling isolated and unconnected, like I was begging for lodging. I was in a funk. But eventually I said, "Ruth, how many times in the States have you wished that you were more able to focus on the religious aspects of Christmas? How many complaints have you heard about the hecticness of the Christmas Season?" I decided then that we were going to have two radically different types of Christmas experiences. One would be when we returned to the US and had all of the traditional Christmas blessings--time with family, traditional meals, decorations, family customs, etc. The other would be a religiously focused ascetic celebration. We would fill our Christmas stockings with food you can eat without cooking and do stockings, attend church, and spend the afternoon having a picnic in the park if we didn't have anywhere else to go.

This year has been more of the latter type of Christmas and I have really enjoyed it as it has been; I've not wished we were somewhere else. We have been celebrating the Advent season and now look forward to entering the Christmas season. During Advent we have lit the Advent candles and read aloud the readings from the prophets, readings which focus on the hope of the coming Savior--hopes related to both Christ's first and second coming. The girls love lighting the candles and Jabu has this really cute puffing that she does to try to blow them out, so we let her do that at the end. We have a gold candle in the middle and that is our Christmas candle. We got to light it for the first time yesterday and will continue with all of the candles lit through the 12 days of Christmas.

We have books for each of our girls and Rudy and I wrote them Christmas letters. The older girls prepared for confession during Advent. Rudy Sr. (grandpa Poglitsh) sent us a great book to prepare children for confession with a list of questions related to the kinds of situations children face. I went through it with Grace and Faith. It was interesting. "Do I have trouble sharing my things?" Grace would say, "I don't know?" I would say, "Why don't you ask your sisters?" Faith and Kit would reply, "You don't have trouble with that." After such exchanges I sat wondering about all the arguments and disputes I hear on a daily basis. But over and over I was hearing my children affirm that they think that their sisters share, don't tease, and treat them well. So that was encouraging--I must remember their grievances longer than they do. But we were able to write up a list of things they did do and I was able to share experiences relating to my sin and the benefits of confessing it to others. It was Grace's first confession.

Years ago, I made simple Christmas stockings. The three older girls have them. They decided to "fancy them up" last week and were busy sewing on beads to make their names and to decorate the stockings.

On the 23rd we went to town. On the bus I realized that we had forgotten their stockings and were going to have to use plastic shopping bags for stockings. We hazarded a trip to the grocery store (Shoprite is busier the few days before Christmas than Times Square on New Year's Eve) to get food for the weekend and presents for the stockings. Close to Christmas, the lines go from the front of the store most of the way down the aisles to the back. But early on the 23rd they were still manageable. The food aisles were crowded. Helping (?) traffic flow was the fact that the store had narrowed the aisles by putting cases of Sodas on the floor on both sides of all of the aisles. Then there were employees pushing big carts for restocking the shelves as the food flowed out of the store. Interestingly, the toy aisle was empty. Rudy and I split up the girls and the teams ventured out. Grace and Faith wanted to get presents for the family this year. They know that Grandma Poglitsh shows love by giving gifts and their Mother doesn't show love that way. They have a little Grandma Poglitsh in them.

One of the things the girls like best about staying at the church is snail collection. The gardens are full of snails about the size of a 50 cent piece. It was raining on the afternoon of the 23rd, but they had a great time running around in the rain gathering a pan full of snails. We joked about cooking them up since the room now features a little two burner stove/toaster oven.

On the 24th, we had planned to take our girls and meet the Rugumambaju's, a Ugandan family with 4 young children, and go to the park but the rains continued all morning. The girls went to confession with Father G., a priest who had to flee his own country because priests were getting hauled off by government authorities and never being heard from again. He gave gifts to each of the girls. Grace, I, and Wiseman (a seminarian), had a nice time talking afterwards and sipping sodas. I started thinking about what it is like for our priests and sisters who are far from family and never get to spend Christmas with them.

By 1:00 the girls were going stir crazy in our room. We got a message from the Mubiru's that the roads were a mess and they probably wouldn't be able to pick us up and spend Christmas with us. I did briefly wonder if this Christmas would be a disaster for the girls. The rain let up and we decided to don rain jackets and go walking around town. We ended up at the park and the girls had a great time, even though things were wet. At 3:00 we went to the Rugumambaju's and they had a great time running around playing with their kids.

Christmas day was beautiful. We didn't know if we should make alternate plans or hope that the roads had dried. The roads had dried. We saw the Mubirus after the second service, they took us to the house of a friend of theirs and we had a Swazi Christmas meat fest. We roasted meat for about two hours--chicken, beef, pork, and two kinds of vors (like Italian sausage). I realized that Americans have a lot of sweet foods that they associate with Christmas. For Swazi's, Christmas dinner means meat.

Now we are home. It is the 26th. Some of the kids have transfered things from their plastic bag into their Christmas stocking. Grace just came us to me and said, "Now it is Christmas, so we get to have special foods. Faith and I are supposed to cook tonight so can we have Ramen [noodles]?" I love it that for the girls, Ramen noodles are a special food worthy of Christmas. I will go to town and we will get some other special foods, which we will spread out over 12 days. I think this Christmas will be memorable--just a very different set of memories.

Rudy is over at the homestead now--Make Silolo is wanting to do a little more planting. As she says, "Ayimali ingubo"--"There is no money in the blankets" [You have to get up early and work if you want to make a living.] Her green peppers are ready to sell. She'll have sweet corn ready for sale soon. She has peanuts and sweet potatoes also planted as well as maize for eating. If things go well, she will be able to make some money weeding for other people; that cash should keep the family fed until the other crops are harvested and sold. She is hoping that she will be back on her feet in 2012. We hope so. It has been painful to see a formerly prosperous farming homestead fall into poverty. We are grateful for the people who have helped her through this terrible year. It has been nice to see when the extended family has stepped in and really fulfilled its traditional role here of providing for and protecting those in need. It has been painful to see when people have taken advantage of her vulnerable position and made it worse. She started with a homestead where there was water and some fencing so she had something to work with. We have been able to provide some much needed emotional support and startup capital and we do hope with her that she is over the hump.

Hope you had a wonderful and memorable Advent and Christmas season. Ours was so pleasant that I hope to incorporate some of it into our family customs even after we return to the US.

Much love to you all,
Ruth Poglitsh

PS: Special Christmas Birthday greetings to Xolile Mubiru (December 24), Godfrey Mubiru and Carol Poglitsh (Dec 25), and Mary Prince (Dec 26).

Africa Dispatch