INDAYELA 2
Last week we told you about the young men who drank indayela, the drink made of milk, tea, breath mints, and methylated alcohol. I (Rudy) attended the funeral on Sunday morning the 7th. Since the homestead is just a stone's throw from the school, I did not have to go to the all-night vigil. I got out to the soccer field about 5:15 and walked ahead of the main group to the gravesite. There were 4 holes in the ground, one right next to the other. Then the coffins were brought, and the process of putting the bodies into the earth began. This part went normally, but something took place which I had never experienced before. A group of people belonging to what is called the "Jericho" or "Red Gown" sect were there. They are known for carrying on with tremendous energy all night at vigils, shouting in deep raspy voices and dancing around. A knot of these folks did this during the entire burial process. To be frank, it provided more annoyance than cultural flavor. I certainly understand that different people mourn in different ways, but it would seem common courtesy to let family representatives who are making closing comments to the gathering at the grave do so without competition from hooting and hopping on the side. Even other members of the "Red Gowns" looked over at the active group with an expression of "Can you give it a 10 minute break, folks?" At one point a pickup truck brought in a load of stones to place on the graves. As it navigated to turn around, it kept backing up towards the knot of Jericho members. It seemed the pickup was taking a long time backing up to get into just the right position, and its bumper kept creeping closer and closer to the Jerichos. I could not help but wonder if this was an attempt to break up the singing, shouting, and stomping. The Jerichos did not stop, and the pickup pulled away. I did see two women sitting on the ground, one wearing the all black clothing of mourning and crying, while the woman next to her gently rubbed and patted her back. Public displays of affection of any sort are very rare in Swaziland, and this (at least to my western eyes) was a good thing for someone to do for her mourning friend.

A friend who attended the funeral said that he suspected that some of those at the funeral had been drinking indayela. The next day, the newspaper (Times of Swaziland) gave the burial front-page coverage. The story inside reported the rumor that some community members think the indayela was spiked with some poison (maybe battery acid) during its composition, and that poison is what killed some of those who drank it. Trying to be respectful and not make light of anyone's suffering, but the unspoken supposition is incredible: namely, that the methylated alcohol elixir would have been fine to drink, but for a poison that someone (no one knows who; the tinyanga, or witch doctors, will be consulted to find out who) put into the drink when no one else was looking. Surely the problem couldn't be the ingredient with "TOXIC" clearly written on the bottle.

MASEKO
Joel Maseko taught geography at Nsukumbili from its inception in 1983. Maseko was the ultimate "classroom management" teacher; I could hear his chalk click-clacking across the chalkboard 10 paces down the corridor from his classroom of 60 students. If Mr. Maseko said "Now, the moon is made of cheese, isn't it class?" they would respond in one emphatic voice, like a class of young men aspiring to become Marines, "YES". I have heard that happen. Up until last year Maseko would walk an hour over the hills to school and home each day. Sometime last year Maseko starting missing some days at school due to sickness. He was in and out of school and hospital. A small group of teachers went to visit him at home last week, but found that he had just gone back to the hospital. On Monday the 8th, we were told in a meeting that he had died. Maseko was an institution at this institution; he will be sorely missed, not least by me. By his example my teaching experience has improved in the last 2 years. I sent him some text messages recently telling him we were thinking of him and praying for him. I wish I had gone to visit him. It's a pretty rough week with 5 deaths in 7 days.

DEATH
I have found, after 8 years here and more deaths than I would like to deal with, two responses in me. One is great sadness and loss. I have a prayer list, and it's never pleasant to come across the name of someone I've been praying for and to remember that they are dead. Another trigger is just remembering a certain year (2006, and 2008) and remembering the teachers who died in those years (one each). I'll have to add 2010 to the list now. Sometimes I remember the photograph in the obituaries of the student whom I taught and even saw here alive a few years ago. Another one is going through the obituaries in the back of the newspaper and figuring out how many of the people who recently died are under 40 years of age. The percentage is at least 80%. So, heartbreak and sadness is one reaction.

Another reaction I'm finding more frequently is anger. It is no mystery in Swaziland what is killing these folks (namely, having sex before and outside marriage) yet many Swazis keep doing the same thing. Is not one definition of insanity to "keep doing the same thing while expecting different results"? HIV/AIDS is, at its root, a self-inflicted wound. Of course, some people get it through non-sexual contact, but that represents less than 10% of new infections. And of course babies born HIV positive are not responsible for contracting the virus, and children left orphaned because their parents died of AIDS are not responsible for those deaths. But if folks had been playing by the tried-and-true rule of "no sex before marriage, sex with spouse only after marriage", then we wouldn't have the mess we do now. On a recent bike ride (more later), I delivered an imagined talk to some students about this issue. It went something like this: "No one can put a spell on you so you have to have sex. To die without having sex does not mean your whole life was a waste (a deep-seated belief among many Swazi youth). If you would fear God more than you fear muti (spells, or "bewitching", through the agency of "muti" (magic) is commonly believed to cause deaths around here), and would live by His commands, there would not be as many funerals as there are, and more of your parents would still be alive. This AIDS thing is YOUR responsibility. It is YOUR fault, and only YOU can fix the problem. It is not the government's responsibility, or any NGOs responsibility, or the responsibility of any number of tender-hearted expatriates. Students, I am tired of going to all-night vigil funerals, and I avoid them as much as possible; I like my sleep, and these deaths are self-inflicted. So-get your act together, or expect the bodies to keep piling up." I don't know if I will ever deliver the talk; maybe the next time students tell me that AIDS was sent here by Americans wishing to kill Africans, or that AIDS stands for Americans' Idea of Discouraging Sex. I did give a speech like this once to a young man who smilingly explained to me that when he came of age he would not be able to keep himself from visiting the "commercial sex workers" (he kept using that term, I kept saying "prostitutes"). I said "Then I will be attending your funeral". There was a jerk of the head and his smile evaporated. Paydirt, I thought. Maybe I should release the rehearsed soliloquy sooner rather than later.

One more notice on the death front. One of our teachers has a child not quite 3 years old. She did not marry the dad (he stood up her family on the day that he was supposed to deliver the cows for her brideprice) and maybe that was good, because he died about a month ago.

PEACHES (by Ruth)
On the positive side, this week we harvested about 60 lbs of peaches. We planted grafted peach trees about 5 years ago. They have been bearing for a few years but between worms, birds, and thieves we haven't harvested much. We found the spray to control the worms, we purchased bird nets and put them up. This year we added a 6-8 foot tall fence around them. Rudy has been diligent about blocking entry points where people have climbed over or crawled under the fence. Another teacher told us that the deputy headmistress told all of the students to keep their hands off our peaches. A student told us what time of day the thieves were coming and the deputy may have given a specific warning to certain students. The guard told us a week ago that he would keep a close eye on them for us when we were gone on Sunday. And behold. It looks like the thieving has stopped. It was so nice to gather the fruits of our labor. We have had some available for sale so that those who wanted peaches would have a legitimate way to get some. They are incredibly tasty when eaten at their peak ripeness. It is wonderful to be able to eat as much fruit as we want. On harvest day we gathered all of the children who lived here and gave them peaches. They were very good this year about not even stealing the peaches hanging through the fence. The fence has been a great attitude improver. Before it was up, when I walked out of the gate I kept seeing all of the students as potential peach thieves (they do commonly collect fruit off the "volunteer" fruit trees in the garden). Once it was in place, I knew that we were only dealing with a couple of determined thieves. And now, I keep my eyes open, but it looks like there is hope of thief free gardening. And it has been encouraging to have others care about the situation and help out.

FRINGE BENEFITS
The water went out Tuesday night. Rudy fumed. He likes to take bike rides in the morning, so he resolved to ride to the big tanks on Wednesday morning and come back to school along the pipeline to do a thorough check. This he did, and it was a great time. A heavy mist rolled in overnight, and there was
one moment when he thought he might be lost. But the mist cleared and he saw his way free again, and the problem was found. He and Mamba went right to it after Rudy got back to the school, and the water was restored. It did cross his mind: how many jobs allow you to mountain bike for over an hour before work, and when you arrive at work at least 30 minutes late you are not scolded but praised? Not too many. Frequent water outages? Not cool. Opportunity to mountain bike to fix water outages? Priceless. Here on Thursday afternoon, it looks like the water is going out again. Bike ride tomorrow AM?

Have a good day,
The Poglitshs