UPDATE FROM LAST WEEK
Maybe the last paragraph about no NGO being willing to touch the "universal right to consequence-free sex" should be modified a bit, at least in relation to children. We just read a newspaper article describing a new initiative at one high school in Swaziland. They are hoping to reduce the percentage of sexually active students from 70% to 50% over the next five years and reducing the HIV infection rate of pregnant women age 15-24 from 38.1% to 37%.

HOMEFRONT
I (Ruth) thought that today I would share a few child raising stories.
When I was a child I read a book called "Dibs: In search of self" which was a biography about a troubled child who went to "Play Therapy" which consisted of a playroom where the child could do anything he felt like under the observation of a Play Therapist who would try to interpret his behavior. The therapist considered the fantasy interactions that he had with the dolls (especially when he buried the father doll in the sandbox) as especially significant. I really liked the book and thought it rather profound when I was a kid. But I had to re-evaluate my opinion after my daughters bought a dollhouse with four family member dolls. The first week they had it, the boy doll kept throwing the furniture out of the upstairs window. He would hit and kick other family members, and the father's reaction was extreme to say the least. I wonder what this play therapist would assume that she knew about our family situation after watching that. A while back they were "putting the children to bed" and the kids kept getting out of bed and running through the house much to the frustrations of the harried "parents".

Kit (Hope) age 2 has a bit of her father's talent. Many years ago at ECHO, Rudy and Heidi Petersen would keep us all amused quoting large sections of movies or breaking into song (they would know all of the words--not just the choruses). Our little girl goes around the house quoting large and various sections of the "Barbie: Princess and the Pauper" movie and parts of the VEGGIETALES about Saint Nicholas. We are likely to be serenaded by any of our girls with the songs from the Barbie movie:

I'm just like you.
You're just like me.
We take responsibility.
We carry through, do what we need to do,
for I am a girl like you.

I am glad that we are fairly selective about what they see--it obviously goes in pretty deep.

Speaking of lines from songs (I only know choruses and very few lines). There was a song that had for me a very profound line "Life is what happens while you are making your plans." As a planner, that has been so true for me. I find so much satisfaction in planning out things that are not likely to ever be accomplished. When I was younger, I thought that they would be accomplished later (and many of them were). Now I am 42 and I am getting a more realistic picture of myself. It is much easier to imagine yourself succeeding at something than to actually succeed at doing it. I enjoy the process of starting programs in my mind. I realize now that I am not an enthusiast or a promoter--so getting other people motivated to do those things with me is really hard. If I do succeed in getting things going, after running it for a couple of years, the ongoing maintenance of the project is not what makes me real excited/motivated even though I will do it faithfully. [Just like the song above: We carry through, do what we need to do...]

I had a realization of a variation on this theme awhile back. I was working in our test plot for maize and enjoying it. I was thinking about the ladies here sitting around and taking the maize off the cobs of a large harvest. I realized that while I find agriculture significant and meaningful because I imagine how it can be a vehical for improving the lives of other people, for these ladies this work is just part of the annual routine of tasks that you must do to live. It is the equivilant of me mopping the floor. Now I don't usually find mopping the floor very significant or meaningful. I had a hint that life consists largely of the drudgery of removing maize from the cobs and mopping dirty floors and it was those activities that must have meaning or most of human life is meaningless.

The third variation on this theme has occured while taking care of our new baby Jabu (Joy). Sometimes she is screaming and we call her AkaJabuli--(Unjoyful). She was screaming on the changing table one evening and I was looking at her and thought that all we have is the moment that we are currently in. This moment is all I have--if I don't redeem this moment--if I don't choose happiness and joy in this moment, in each of the "this moments" of the day then the whole day, week, year, life will pass and they will not have been marked by joy--just a string of petty irritations, angers, and frustrations to show for all of that past time. Why is it that irritation springs up naturally and joy must be carefully cultivated?

I was reading David Bently Hart's book "Athiest Delusions" which complains that the "New Athiests" don't take their Athiesm nearly seriously enough. One problem with materialism taken to its end result is that it renders all of our activity meaningless. This naturally leads to a lack of high vision and no desire to do great things and portends the end of high civilization. (I am probably butchering his argument here). This rings true. I don't think we would be here if we didn't believe in God. You might come if you thought you could make a grand difference. We have been here long enough for those hopes to shrink. As I get a clearer picture of who I am and what I can do and what the situation is here, it is obvious that we are not going to be agents of community wide transformation. We will touch a few individuals in a meaningful way and a larger group in a not-very-meaningful way but things aren't likely to be signicantly better here because of our sojourn.

On the other hand, I would add, a Theist can believe that changing a baby's diaper or mopping the floor can be filled with eternal significance. I was wondering how to love God with real affection. Again I found Jabu screaming on the changing table and was reminded "As you did this to the least of these my brethren, you did it to me." It was the Mother Teresa "encounter Christ in the poorest of the poor" trick. So I changed my screaming baby's diaper with real love, deep and genuine. And I am confident that that moment was redeemed.

So my locus of meaning is slowly shifting from changing the outside world to learning to encounter this moment with faith, hope, and love. It may be that if my private heart is transformed there will be public effects--I don't know. I can be confident that I will have some effect on my girls. My natural inclination is to work very hard to influence those outside my family. I forget that I will influence my girls much more than I will influence anyone else in my life.

ANACONDA
We have spoken in the past about Stan Mamba, local handyman genius, and the "black mamba water heater" named in his honor. As is his gift, Mamba recently turned another problem into gold. When water is entering the main school tanks, it always overflows them; the result is a veritable swamp around the tanks. This is unsightly, unpleasant to walk around, and a possible source of disease (mosquito breeding ground) and embarrassment (it's hard to tell the students to make sure they drain swampy areas so that mosquitoes can't breed, if the school doesn't do it first). Mamba took some strips of innertubes and closed off some leaks, then redid the overflow pipe so that it takes the water into two other pipes: one to a homestead downhill from the school, and one right into the school. We now have a 1&1/2 inch aboveground pipe gurgling water steadily wherever we want it inside the school grounds. Sometimes it waters plants inside the garden, other times it helps wash down the concrete hallways of the school. A student recently called it the "Anaconda", a huge tropical jungle snake. I sure hope Mamba doesn't leave while we are here; his problem-solving skills seem irreplacable.

ASLEEP AT THE WHEEL
Not exactly, but pretty close. One day this week Jabulile would not quiet down. Much to her parents' delight, Grace asked if she could take that screaming baby. Grace put Jabu in a doll stroller and then disappeared. You parents know that when a high-decibel baby suddenly gets quiet, you're not that concerned, as long as you are confident she is still in good hands. Time came, though, for dinner, and Grace and Jabu were not to be found. We went to hollering outside, and there they were; Grace had taken Jabu 4-wheeling in the doll stroller outside! Rudy was a little concerned, knowing that toy strollers aren't that rugged and noticing that Grace was moving at a pretty good clip; but no harm, no foul, I guess. Jabu "cranked up" again after we sat down to dinner, but Rudy pushed her back and forth with his right hand and ate with his left, and she was asleep in 5 minutes.

Some folks wonder how any couple can have more than 2 kids and stay sane. We have found that by doing our best to build a culture of love and support between family members, the older girls have come to look after the younger ones. Sometimes they have the most creative, effective, and supportive solutions.

CITIZENS ARREST
Classes end at 2:20PM, but students aren't released from school until about 4. The 1 1/2 hours is used by the cultural competition teams to prepare for Wednesday's competition at Somhlolo National Stadium. Not every student is involved in the cultural activities, so you can imagine a lot of dawdling takes place.

Late this week I witnessed a most remarkable thing. From down a short slope came whooping one student, joining some of his friends in apprehending another student. The 4 boys lifted the fifth and carried him behind the woodwork class block. Their intent did not seem malicious, and the apprehended didn't fight desperately, so I figured this wasn't serious; but it case it was, I figured I'd better be a witness/interceptor if it was. They laid their "friend" on the ground and then melodramatically administered a whoopin' to his backside with their canvas belts. After 30 seconds all stood up, all smiles. I asked one of them later what that was about, and he said they suspected the victim had been smoking. Some time after that I said I wish I had had a movie camera on hand to record it all; he said they might repeat it in the future. What a school.

NSUKUMHILLBILLY
Not only do your kids drop whatever they're doing to go outside to see the Cessna-size aircraft they hear buzzing overhead; to your self-chagrin, you find yourself get up from your desk to do the very same thing. You've become a
Hillbilly

Have a nice day,
The Poglitshs