January 26, 2010

MONEY MAKERS
Three great stories about income generation recently.
1) Stan Mamba told me he knows a man who has an arrangement with a local poultry company. The man has built a chicken house up to the company's standards. The company brings chicks (I forget the age) and food for them for the next 9 weeks. At the end of 9 weeks, the company comes back and pays the man E2 for every chicken that is up to the minimum weight. With the numbers of chicks running into the hundreds, and the 9-week process taking place year-round, this is a money maker! I was glad to hear about it. One catch: you have to have a steady supply of water to keep things clean. Still, with a relatively small input, this is good and steady income.

2) Thokozane Khumalo tells us that two local health food stores have sold 30kg of moringa powder since November. 30kg might not sound like much, but multiply 30 by 2.2 and you get 66 pounds of a powder with the approximate density of parsley. Harvesting the moringa leaves and turning them into powder also takes place numerous times a year. I didn't ask the price per (small) bag, but even at just a few bucks this looks like a money maker too.

3) I spoke with a young man at a computer firm in Mbabane last week. I told him I was a teacher and that I wanted to pass on to my students stories of people who have "made it" in the work world. I asked him, then, how he ended up doing this computer work. He said he just liked computers and got himself a desktop and a laptop, and started using them. He knows them inside out, and he's got steady work from it. He also said he's worked with people who have taken training courses in town, and they know almost nothing. As with a plumber and an electrician I've known, motivation and hands-on practice make a huge difference in getting paying work.

87:1
That's the ratio of the number of minutes I (and hundreds of other people) stood under the January sun in southern Africa waiting to sign a new contract to the number of minutes we needed to put our names on the dotted line. I arrived at Mjingo high school in Manzini (the first school in Swaziland where I taught a full term) at 7AM, and signed a contract at 2:15. The process ran like Swiss trains-which have been hit by avalanches during a week when the snow removal guys are on vacation in Miami. The man in charge showed up at 9:30, spent some time introducing the folks at the front, then said people from two regions (Lubombo and Shiselweni) should stay in the hall to sign contracts, while teachers from Manzini and Hhohho regions should go to the appropriately-marked classrooms outside. Too bad he didn't add "Let the games begin!" for flourish. Our Ugandan friend Godfrey Mubiru happened to be in front of the appropriate classroom when the announcement was made. He later told me he was so pressed by teachers trying to get into the room that he could not move forward or back. I thought the pileups to get into kombis were bad; contract signing day made them look like a stroll in the park. One could occasionally hear women emitting long, high-pitched cries of fear and pain near the door. At times the door itself would slowly and erratically open and close, clearly under the opposing forces of people trying to get in and the Swazi police (who attended the event) trying to keep people out. I stood for 45 minutes in the "wrong" line (the one for elementary school teachers), but it didn't really matter, as the lines for high and elementary schools converged on the same classroom. What was the point of that? Another teacher and I came up with ideas for streamlining this process, mainly by decentralizing it. All the same, we teachers didn't show much professionalism with our pushing and shoving. And yet every year the process takes this long. Why does the ministry of education insist on bringing everyone together in one place for one marathon "see-if-you-can-figure-out-where-to-stand-and-hope-you-can-catch-the-last-bus-to-your-house" paperwork extravaganza?

The process isn't quite over yet. I have to make a copy of one of the forms they gave me (um, howzabout you guys make 2 copies and keep one?), and return these with another form from my headmaster to the office in Mbabane.

Two bright spots, though: I got to speak to some teachers from Zimbabwe, and they said things are better (if not perfect) there. Food and gas are available again, and one teacher attributed it to the national unity government of Mugabe and the opposition guy (whose name I can pronounce but cannot spell off the top of my head). Apparently US dollars are now the currency; perhaps that has also helped.

Also, the contract I signed is good for two years. That means, hopefully, no 7-hour suntanning session next year; so the ratio above can perhaps be cut in half.

CORRECTION
Some time back I wrote about AIDS and sexual behavior. I said that habits established before marriage generally carry over after marriage. A friend of mine who works full-time in AIDS prevention said that in fact promiscuity generally ceases after marriage. I appreciated and wanted to pass on his correction.

WHAT'S IN A NAME? PART II
This may be funnier to folks in Swaziland than to those in the US. I typed this year's class roster into a computer, then ran a spellcheck. The names of students are on the left, and the computer's suggestions are on the right (after the hyphen).

Mabaso-Tabasco
Mkhontfo-Pocahontas
Pholile-Loophole
Thandowetfu-Thankfullest
Hlophe-Gopher
Nomkhosi-Hosiery, Cirrhosis, Sinkhole, Psychosis, Khomeni
Mncina-Medicinal, Menacing
Khumbuzile-Humbugged
Ngabisa-Nabisco
Temlandvo-Timberland
Lomathemba-Aromatherapist
Tfwala-Halfway
Bonsile-Tonsil
Gcinile-Glycine
Mbongiseni-Trombonist
Mcolisi-Coliseum
Cedusizi-Undersizing
Ndzingane-Manganese
Nombulelo-Combustible