America's Fear Culture

There are few things more terrifying than getting only one highlight of a news report without getting the details. This happened to me with the recent shooting at Purdue. I saw the Facebook photos of candlelight vigils, people changing their profile pictures to the black ribbon with the P, and statuses expressing that thoughts and prayers were with the Purdue community. I saw links with headlines to the story about the shooting. I saw these things on the worst smartphone ever made, the Nokia Asha 201; these things were all I knew for days. I was upset – I have many friends that are still at Purdue, and I knew nothing about their well-being.

If it weren’t for my parents and Kelli, I would be so clueless about the happenings in America. They keep me current, and they explained what really happened. This made me think about my concern and its origin. It should not be the norm in America to read about a shooting and wonder how high the death toll is, but school shootings are commonplace enough that that is what I wondered first. School shootings are commonplace. Children are killed in heartbreaking numbers by people with guns that have invaded what is supposed to be a safe place. If I were a parent, I have no idea how I would ever let my child leave the house; these thoughts are scary.

Before I left for my service in Swaziland, people expressed a lot of concern for my safety. We, as Americans, know that people were hacked to pieces with machetes in Rwanda in the mid-1990s. We know about the genocide in the DRC. We know that there is a civil war in South Sudan. We know that Egypt is a center of unrest. And we, as Americans, are so used to violence and death in our media and lives that, combined with what we know about African countries, assume the whole continent is dangerous.

It makes me sad to reflect on this. Yes, people get murdered in Swaziland. It happens, generally during elections because body parts bring the candidates muti (black magic, good luck). It is, however, quite rare. I have seen few people with guns, and the ones I have seen were the guards on money transport duty for the banks. I have not seen guns on soldiers or police. I have not seen guns on civilians. When I worked at Wee Willie’s in the lovely town of Ellettsville, I had customers walk in with guns on their hips. I saw more armed people in my job as a small-town waitress than I do in Africa. Let that sink in.

Yes, I get harassed. Sometimes I get grabbed. Despite all that, I have never felt that my safety was at risk. I have never been afraid of losing my life. For the past 7 months, I have not lived in fear from people (snakes, spiders, and scorpions yes, but not people). It took being freed of the fear of death to understand how afraid I was back home.

When I was out walking on my university campus after dark, I had to have someone on the phone. I would call my parents or a friend and chat. Sometimes I’d declare my location quite loudly so would-be attackers knew people were looking out for me. Sometimes I’d call Kelli and plead with her to pick me up (this was possibly due to laziness as much as fear, but whatever). I was not comfortable after dark on my own campus, which is where I lived for 4 years. I’m rarely out after dark now, but even in crowded and noisy Manzini I’m not that afraid. In America, I would have been afraid of someone grabbing me and pulling me into a car. Is that crazy? I don’t think so; Bloomington alone has far too many missing young women, and Indianapolis has more. In Manzini, as with most of Swaziland, being pickpocketed is my biggest concern.

It’s a bizarre thought that I had to come to Africa to feel safe. America’s fear culture is probably also played up by the media – drama sells. In Swaziland, I have seen a lot of headlines like “Vampire released from jail after posting bail” and “Umlungu gets tekaed” (white person is subjected to a traditional marriage). Headlines about corruption and affairs are common, but the Kaizer Chiefs dominate the papers. Headlines about the crashing economy, high rates of murder, rape culture, student loan debt, America losing its place on top, rapes happening in towns we’ve never heard of, and other grim and upsetting headlines do not make a big show here. The media does not promulgate a culture of fear, and Swazis go about their daily lives feeling happy and safe.

The common thing I hear from Swazis about Swaziland is that it is so peaceful. Swaziland has never had a civil war. It regained its land through negotiations and treaties following its independence, not through armies and guns. Swazis take issues to the village council, and the council works it out. Arrests, trials, probation, jail, huge fees, and other drama of the US legal system are left out. You know what? It works. The crime rate here is very low.

I tried to explain school shootings to my host family. This was one of the hardest discussions to have with them. They just didn’t understand. I kept repeating: students or outsiders bring a gun to school and shoot children; they are shooting to kill. They didn’t believe me at first. They thought I was making up stories. When I told them about Newtown, they were shocked and upset. Once the reality of what I was saying sunk in, they were sad. My babe (father) shook his head and said, “I never would have known America was such a place. I could never live there. I value peace too much.”

I love my country. I am American. I wouldn’t change that for the world. That being said, no place is perfect. I have grown to appreciate America more since leaving it, but I have also been able to see how destructive this violence and fear culture are. I feel safe, so I am relaxed and comfortable and happy. I hope one day America gets to experience this quietness and peacefulness for itself one day.

Being Female in Swaziland

I’ve been promising this post for a while now. I have been putting it off until I was able to really think about it, because gender relations really shape this country and I want to make sure that my analysis is as accurate as possible, and also not shaded by anger or frustration. I’ve spent the last week pretty much alone in my hut relaxing, so I’m presently not angry and can try to keep my opinions out of this as much as possible. So, here we go: gender norms, gender roles, the value of women, and sexual harassment in Swaziland.

Gender Norms

When we were in training, we focused on gender norms a lot. The women have to wear skirts, cannot show our thighs, have to learn how to deal with unwanted attention from men, and have to learn how to deal with comments from women. For Americans, this was a shock and was met with a lot of resistance. We thought that Peace Corps was being overly cautions; we didn’t understand what the reality of life here for women is really like.

The first time it hit home for me was during a conversation with our bothishela (teachers). Our language teachers are all Swazis, and include both men and women. As a whole, they are very progressive, and don’t really represent the extremity of attitudes we would soon come to know so well in our rural communities. Our Program and Training Manager, Patrick, asked the men a question. He asked them if it was okay if a man were to walk up behind a beautiful woman he didn’t know in a grocery store and begin hugging and kissing her. To our shock, they all said yes. That was how men got to know beautiful women.

He then asked the women. They adamantly said no. They did not want to be touched or kissed by strangers, and they wanted their bodies to be their own and in their control, not in the control of unknown men. The men were angry with this answer from the women, and it led to tension in the group of bothishela. This is a common aspect of gender norms – men set the norm and women aren’t asked. When women are asked, their answer is ignored.

Another aspect of gender norms is fashion. I was talking to my babe (father) one evening. He was lamenting the number of young women that wear trousers now. He said it was much better when we controlled what they wear, but now we just let them dress as they like. I asked him who “we” are. He looked surprised, and told me that “we” means men. That’s right – men should be able to dictate how women dress. A volunteer friend of mine has a male Swazi friend who is super cool – I’ve met him, and he is one funny person. In one of their conversations, he told her that women have to dress conservatively in church or men cannot focus to pray. She asked him if he really couldn’t control himself, and his answer was no; the responsibility for men’s focus lies with women, not with men themselves. She told him that men should all have to wear blindfolds in that case. I agree with her!

Women are secondary to men. They obey, they dress according to how they are pressured, they deal with harassment silently, and they are raised to fulfill certain expectations. That is the norm. Men are in control, and women have to be pretty and obedient. This may go back to family roles and expectations.

Family Roles and Expectations

Family settings are where gender roles are most apparent to me. They seem to be similar across the board in Swaziland.

Men are the head of the family. If there are children, they are his. He is the only one who can file for divorce, and the only reasons acceptable are if she fails to give him children, she practices witchcraft (yes, that’s a thing here), or if she commits adultery. Polygamy is legal. Men make deals for lobola (dowry, paid in cows) with the fathers of the women, and she may or may not get a say in the marriage. Men make all the financial decisions, all the decisions about what the family is doing and when, and what his wife can or cannot do. It is legal and expected for men to beat their wives. It is actually insulting here to ask a man to work or to help his wife; he is so tired from being a man that all he can do is sit.

Women have children; do all the washing, cooking, and cleaning; earn most of the money; and obey their husbands without complaint. This is where some of the problems that I see come in. Women work long days in the markets selling vegetables, in the shops or restaurants, or in the fields. They bring the money home and hand it over. Studies have shown that when women decide how the money is spent the children benefit, but when men decide much more is spent on beer. I have seen that firsthand. It is frustrating to see. Women also get no say in how many children they have.

I visited a Doctors Without Borders (MSF) clinic in Matsapha. They said that family planning is a challenge. The easiest thing for women who don’t want more children to do is to get a birth control implant in her arm. The doctor we spoke to said that it is common to see women doing this without their husbands’ consent, and then the husbands drag them back in and demand that the implant be removed. Women cannot get the implants at a Swazi clinic without their husbands present, so many never get the opportunity. It is sad to see.

Family and home are where you should go to relax. For women, going home means the work is only about to get harder.

Value of Women

Women here are evaluated by men based on their value. This became apparent to me in a conversation I had with my 16-year-old bhuti (brother) and his friend. They were asking a lot about American women. His friend, who I will call here Ben, told me that he wanted to marry an American. I told him that I didn’t think he would like it very much, and explained that if you told an American woman that she was going to do the cooking, cleaning, working, and laundry while you sat at home and drank beer she would laugh at you and leave. He told me that he could do without those things – he only wanted one because they are so beautiful.

I explained that you cannot do what men do here – that is, walk up to a stranger, tell her you love her, and ask her to marry you. You have to meet her through friends, work, church, whatever, and get to know her first. He became very frustrated, and exclaimed: “But if I do not talk to her, I will have lost a beautiful woman who could be my wife! How will she know that I love her if I do not tell her?” I asked him how he knew he loved her – she could be the meanest person alive. He looked at me, and replied: “She is not. She is too beautiful for that.”

The value of women here is largely on beauty. White women are the most beautiful, which is frustrating – I have known some very pretty Swazi women. 98% of this country is Swazi, so white girls are few and far between; maybe we’re just assumed to be beautiful because we’re exotic. The secondary value of women is on virginity. She must be a virgin when she marries you. There is a test for this, which is still in practice today, although not widely.

You stand a woman on her head while she is naked. You pour milk down her vagina. Someone who knows how to read this will determine if she is a virgin based on how much milk will go and how soon it comes back out. I have a lot of opinions on this, but in the interest of not angering my boss, I will keep them to myself.

Women are valued based on how many children they produce, especially sons. They are valued by how good their cooking is, how good their cleaning is, and how obedient they are. For someone used to value being placed on education, intelligence, kindness, being opinionated, being driven, and maybe being attractive, this feels like an injustice. Different cultures, I guess.

Sexual Harassment

This is how I, an American female of 23 years of age with a college education, perceive sexual harassment. Men here would not agree with my assessment, as seen in the above example with the bothishela.

I have been harassed. In America, I would have called the police. I would have called a friend. I would have shouted at the guy and used language that my mother would not have been proud of. Depending on the scale, I may have filed assault charges or physically fought to get away. Here, in Swaziland, I am not encouraged to do any of those things.

I get comments daily. “I love you” and “I want to marry you” are the most common ones. Lately, I’ve had enough, so my responses are getting sassier: “Well, babe, that’s a problem, because I don’t want to marry you” or “Thank you, it is nice to hear you say you love me.” The thank you response has actually made some men angry – they expect me to tell them that I love them back. I will not be saying that. I also get told that I must marry them, they will die without me, I am so beautiful, I must be with them, and I must marry them and take them back to America. I don’t like these, but they are the least offensive.

Some are offensive. “I want to know what a white body looks like. Show me,” “I want to put my baby in you,” “I will love you quickly” (not a good thing, sir!), “I am coming to your homestead and we are making love tonight,” and “You owe me sons” are the ones that really piss me off. If you want to know what a white body looks like, watch Game of Thrones (or any primetime HBO show). I don’t want your baby and I definitely don’t want to sleep with you. Saying those things doesn’t work, however.

This is the worst part. Women don’t have wants and needs that matter. We do as we are told when we are told to do it by men. We dress modestly for them. We respond to harassment kindly so as not to offend them. They, in turn, do not acknowledge that we are thinking human beings, so when I say “I do not want you,” they hear a joke.

I have also been grabbed. Arm around shoulders, hand in hand, my wrist in his hand, my arm, my shirt, my shoulder. Everything has been grabbed. I used to try to diffuse the situation and get away. Now, I shamelessly make a scene, something Swazi women rarely do. By the way, they get harassed as much as we do. Last guy that grabbed my wrist was one unlucky guy. I started screaming: “DO NOT TOUCH ME. I DO NOT LIKE YOU. LET ME GO. NEVER TOUCH ME AGAIN.” He was caught so off-guard that he let me go, and it took him several seconds to be able to shout after my retreating back that he loved me and wanted to marry me. Screaming works, and it shocks them into letting go.

My biggest annoyance is when race starts to play a role. This is a typical conversation:

SWAZI: I want to marry you.
ME: Ngingekinga (I have a problem) because I do not want to marry you.
SWAZI: Haowu! You do not like black men?
ME: No, that is not the problem. I do not like you.
SWAZI: You don’t like black men. You are a racist.
ME: I have no problem with black men. You are a racist – you are only talking to me because I am white.
SWAZI: Black men cannot be racist! You are so racist.

Yes, sir, I am racist. THAT’S WHY I WILLINGLY LIVE IN A COUNTRY THAT IS 98% BLACK. This one makes me so mad.

The ultimate take away, here, is that women have no real opinions, they are there to please men, and men are infallible and when they get rejected it is due to racism. I could keep going for pages and pages, but I think this is enough to introduce what goes on here. It’s frustrating, but such is life here. Thank goodness I only have to deal with this for 19 more months – some women live this every day.

Different Cultural Values

As Americans, there are some culturally-based values that are instilled in us from the moments we are able to walk, talk, and think. I was unable to see some of these values/ideals until I arrived in a country where they are absent. I don’t mean that Swazi culture lacks value; rather, Swazis have different cultural values than Americans, and as an American that can be confusing and frustrating at times.

Social Empowerment Fuels Accountability

Businesses are held to certain legal codes, but they are also held to certain social codes by the general public. If a bus driver on a San Francisco MUNI line were to start making sexist comments, a server were to refuse to serve a mixed race couple on a date, or a school were to refuse to admit a same-sex couple to the prom, then there would be consequences. People would take to social media and the issue would go viral. This would put pressure on the business to fire the offending employee, make necessary policy changes, and/or make a public statement. That sort of behavior simply doesn’t fly.

I have been on buses where the driver was two hours late to pick up the route. I have been on khumbis (15-seater vans) where the driver was drunk. I have been charged more in markets because I am white. I have been harassed by a bus conductor (the one who collects the money) to marry her son. Can I publish this on Facebook and expect real change?

Most rural Swazis do not have Facebook, email, or even internet access. When our community’s bus is two hours late or decides to just not run that day, community members accept it and hitchhike to town or just go home and wait for tomorrow. They do nothing. They say nothing. The bus company will never change. Swazis do not have the empowerment to take to the internet, but even if they did they may not have the means. Companies do not face accountability from their customers.

Accepting Personal Responsibility and Remedying the Problem

My 16-year-old bhuti (brother) was visiting my hut one night. He saw that I had a new candle and candle holder, and he picked the candle itself up. The holder stuck to it, and then fell off and shattered all over my floor. His response? “Oh, sorry, sisi. I’ll clean it up.” He did clean it up, but I had to replace the candle holder myself.

Americans take personal responsibility and work to fix a problem. If, in our college apartment, I were to have broken Kelli’s coffee machine, I would have had a responsibility to tell her, apologise, and purchase her a new one. I would have felt guilty for not fulfilling that responsibility, and she would have been angry at me for shirking this particular obligation.

Swazis do not have this sense. I have seen people show up an hour late to the scheduled bus times (which, granted, are a bit arbitrary) and then say that the bus left them when they realize that it is gone. I would say that I missed the bus. Blame shifting is very common here, or simply not taking responsibility is also very common.

When my beloved 6-year-old Macbook broke, I was devastated, and immediately contacted my family to make a contingency plan to obtain a new computer. We knew that we would be responsible if the computer was stolen in shipping. I know that Apple would be responsible if I brought it to them for repair and they broke it further. Here, if I were to take it for repair and it were to be broken further (which is likely what would happen), I would again get “Oh, sorry, sisi. It broke itself. Here it is,” as a response. I would hold the responsibility for a mistake that was not mine.

This value is one of my biggest struggles here. My parents always taught me that it’s not the mess you make, it’s the way you deal with it that matters. I cannot trust that people were raised that way here. Every time someone asks to borrow my laptop, camera, iPod, headphones, or other expensive device, I know there is a good chance that if I give it to them it will come back broken and will never be replaced. My refusal to loan things out is met with frustration, anger, and coldness. I’m seen as stingy, when I’m really just protecting my assets.

The Right to Privacy

What is your religion? Why don’t you have kids? Why aren’t you married? Have you ever had sex? The hair on my head matches my pubic hair; does yours? Do you hate black people? Can I marry one of your brothers? How much money do you make? How big is your house? Do you have a trust fund?

If I asked any one of those questions back home to a stranger I was passing on the street, I can guarantee it would not be well received. These are all questions that have been asked to me or other volunteers on a routine basis by people we have never met before, and we cannot refuse to answer. I tried that approach, and the people asking just get more persistent. One even grabbed my arm so I could not walk away without answering.

We have to lie. I have tried saying that I am Catholic, and immediately people tried to convert me. That is not an acceptable answer. I have tried asking why I would come to Swaziland if I hate black people, but that approach does not work and is brushed off. I tell the women who ask to marry Cameron and Connor that they have to ask them and not me, which just makes them mad. When I explain the actual size of my house and that we only have one house on our “homestead,” I get called a liar. The people who ask know what they want to hear, and they will not leave without an answer that they like.

Men and Women May Be Different, but Women are Still People

Three volunteers (2 female, 1 male) were riding on a khumbi. A man approached the male volunteer and asked, “Are they for sale? I would like to buy one.” He was not referring to physical possessions or cattle or chickens; he was referring to the women. Naturally, all three were offended, but the man did not understand why.

I get proposed to every single day. It’s rarely a question. Hey, white girl, I will marry you. How many cows do you cost? I want to put a baby in you. I will love you quickly (that’s my favorite). Those are just some examples. I told one persistent man that I was already married, and he responded: “Shem, sisi. Let’s have sex and cheat on your husband. Then you and I can kill him so no one will know.” I don’t think I have ever moved so quickly onto a bus in my life!

Men can divorce women for not producing children, practicing witchcraft, committing adultery, and a few other things. Women cannot divorce men; it’s illegal in Swazi culture. Women cannot own property. If a man divorces a woman, her family has to pay back the dowry and he gets to keep all the children. Polygamy is legal. Women must wear skirts to hide their thighs, otherwise men cannot help themselves and may rape them (this was news about a year ago, and you can still find the articles about the King banning miniskirts). Women must do all the cooking, cleaning, washing, child raising, and working. Men control the money and do not have to work. In fact, it’s offensive to ask a man to do anything other than sit and drink. It is legal for men to beat their wives.

In the traditional Swazi marriage, women are surprised. They are pulled from their beds at the coldest hour of the night, stripped naked, brought to a kraal (where cattle are kept), soaked with water, and insulted by watching villagers until they cry. Once they have cried long enough, they are married.

This is my hardest daily struggle. When men propose, they are not taking into account the fact that I am a thinking, feeling, and intelligent human being. I want to slap them and scream, “I have a college degree! I’m published in several journals and I worked like a dog to get there! I spent a year applying to get here! I left everything behind so that I could serve your country! TREAT ME LIKE A HUMAN!” Most of these men wouldn’t care about any of that. My career doesn’t matter. My duty is to produce children and serve my husband, and being unmarried at 23 is a crime.

For those women who choose to be stay-at-home moms, that is their choice. I love that women in America have the choice. Women here in the rural areas cannot choose whether or not to cook or stay home or only have 2 children. They are forced into a certain lifestyle.

Success is Earned, Not Given

I’m going to ask that political opinions of Americans stay out of this one. What I mean is that the American dream of starting with nothing and working your way up is still alive. CEOs clawed their way to the top of the company. Rock stars started out playing in empty clubs until they hit the big time. Teachers were once students. Epidemiologists had to survive more semesters of math than humans should be subjected to. Doctors practiced injections on each other and stayed up all night many nights studying. Researchers submitted their articles to a hundred journals to find the one that would publish them. Maybe those people inherited a legacy, but their parents still had to carve the path at one point.

Here, there is a serious problem with dependency and communal property. Nothing is ever truly yours, which makes even successful people struggle as their friends and family come around demanding money. People walk up to me and ask me for 10 rand or for a meal or to pay for their bus fare. They see a white person, associate me with wealthy donors, and expect that I have a responsibility to give them what I have. Not only is my money and property communal, I must be rich and that’s not fair. Usually I just say no and walk away, but I’ve been getting a bit sassy lately.

A man walked up to me in Manzini. He was drinking a Coke. He starts telling me how hungry he is and pleading for food. I tell him I’m hungry too, and that’s why I’m going to spend my 5 rand on food and not on a Coke. He should have done the same. That actually got him to walk away.

Critical Thinking Skills Should Be Used Every Day

My ceiling rafters are really really high. I needed to hang my mosquito net. After struggling, I came up with the answer. I tied my keys around a rope and threw them over the rafters. Their weight pulled the rope down and I hung my net. My windows don’t close all the way, so a lot of bugs crawl in. I cut up an old mosquito net and made window screens. My walls are too high for my paint roller, so I taped it to the handle of a mop to reach the ceiling. This is problem solving. This is critical thinking.

My family told me I’d have to buy a ladder to hang the net. They said that I’d have to learn to deal with the bugs. They said I’d need either a man or a ladder to paint.

I’m not saying that Swazis don’t have critical thinking skills. I’m saying that identifying the opportunity for problem solving is challenging for many of the ones I know. Americans work with what we have to get the job done. Swazis tend to go without, call World Vision to buy them something new (I dislike World Vision passionately), or find some elaborate way to fix a simple problem. Creativity is not encouraged in schools and neither is critical thinking. It makes a huge difference.

There are many more things I could say, but this post is long enough already. There are values in Swazi culture that are missing from American culture, but as I’ve only been here 6 months I’m not quite prepared to write about that yet.