It's starting to get real now

Today is 8 July. I write my blog posts on my computer before I post them online, due to the challenges with internet here. It’s still better service than the AT&T at home, but the service is rarely available.

On my first or second night on the homestead, I wrote a post that I ended up deciding to not publish. Culture shock and the loss of so many things that I took for granted made my first few days on the homestead pretty rough, but as that is not so much the case anymore it would be inappropriate to post my earlier lament.

As I mentioned, I have moved out to the homestead. I am called Maswazi Hlatjwago (Mah-swaz-ee Hlat-jwa-go) by my family. My American name is not how I am known anymore here in Swaziland unless it is by other volunteers. I have a room that locks, and it is adjacent to one of the kitchens. I have a full size bed, my little gas stove, some buckets to bathe in, pots to boil water in, and some plates. I do not have running water or heat. I have electricity enough to power a light, but nothing beyond that. My floor is concrete, as are my walls. My roof is tin, which has been the biggest challenge for me so far. When I boil water during the day, the steam condensates on the roof and rains on me all night. When it rains here, the roof magnifies the sound. I know that my room is very well built, however, by the fact that I didn’t feel the earthquake that hit yesterday.

My homestead is huge. I am around a part of it frequently, but the whole homestead is over a hundred people. I have a mini-homestead within the homestead as a whole. My area has 20 people, which is how many we cook for at dinner. Few speak English. There are many animals in addition to the many people. We have cows, goats, chickens, pigs (supposedly – I have yet to see a one), and dogs. The rooster perch is right by my window, so my mornings start very, very early.

A typical day consists of me getting up at 5:00am. I dress, go fetch water, boil the water, drink coffee, cook breakfast (typically eggs), make my lunch to take to school, study before school, maybe do other chores (hang wet laundry up, filter previously boiled water, etc.), sweep, and leave for training at 7:30. I do Peace Corps things all day from 8:00-17:00 and then I head home. I immediately fetch and boil water, which has to cool for my evening bath. Boiling takes at least an hour. Then I help to cook dinner and sit with the family. Dinner is at 19:00. I then come back to my room, study or write on here, and bathe. Then I go to bed by 21:00.

The days are hard. Everything takes so much more time. Think gratefully today of your washing machines, dryers, safe running water, reliable electricity, ovens and stoves, internet, refrigerators, English-speaking family, heat and AC, and a complete lack of copious amounts of red dust on your feet/socks/shoes/floor/everything else. I would also advise a moment of thanks for not going to dinner to find a chicken head, foot, and intestines on your plate and a very proud family that cannot wait for you to try what they slaughtered for you earlier that day.

Today we spent hours learning Siswati, and some time learning how to make a compost so that we can have gardens at our permanent sites. Composting in the US is easy. Making composting look easy so that villagers will add it to their lifestyles is not quite as simple. That is what we are working on this week. At home my family teaches me Siswati words, and sometimes I remember them. Make (ma-gay), my host mother, tried to teach me a Swazi dance today. I can’t even dance in America, let alone one of these challenging, intricate, and beautiful Swazi dances. The family laughed for a good half an hour at me. I left the kitchen recently, and I can still hear them laughing.

Life here is hard, but it is okay. On my first few nights here, I cried much of the evening. I have only now gotten my appetite back (though that chicken head didn’t improve things). I thought seriously about whether I could live this way in this country speaking this language for two years and three months. After some intense soul searching, I believe that this is the right place for me. Adjusting is hard, and it is a process that takes time. Fortunately for me, I have nothing but time left.