Day of the African Child

On Tuesday I went along to a UNICEF launch event for the Day of the African Child, at a school in Ekukhanyeni, an area with 10 chiefdoms about an hour outside of Manzini. The theme of the event is to stop child trafficking, a problem which civil society fears will be heightened with the influx of visitors during the world cup just across the border. The event brought together all the schools in the township, around 1500 pupils in total, to enjoy performances, speeches, receive bright blue UNICEF T-shirts, and to get information about children’s issues (Save the Children, and SWAGAA were also present to hand out information). Under the blue tent at the edge of the field, the front row seats for most of the performances, sat the dignitaries, one of the kings thirteen wives was present on behalf of the king.

I had a wander around the events and then went into the high school, a scattering of cement buildings that would be classified as somewhat in-complete at home, walked past the huge cow drinking from a small trough (maybe school property, perhaps just an animal that is in the guardianship of a family in the rural area for those living in the city) and found a group of men cooking over a barbecue for all the kids. Perhaps the highlight of any event for those in the rural areas is the accompanying meal. There is the problem of kids receiving their meal, walking to rejoin the line whilst eating their first meal, or perhaps putting the contents in a larger container hidden behind a building and returning for more. It is tough to control this kind of situation when we all know that the kids are not taking numerous meals out of greediness, this knowledge induces complacency in the organisers. But still, every one of those children needed to get a meal.

After deciding on a solution, penning every child on the hand (I don't know if they managed to track down a marker for that), we were taken into the foyer next to a huge kitchen. And unceremoniously had a heaped place of food placed on our laps. The difference in situation was startling and for sure the food tasted great, but was difficult to swallow. Another note to self should I find myself in a similar situation in the future.

neighbourhood

How to describe the area that I live in. Fairview North, Manzini. Bus stop- Esinlahleni. Which literally translates as 'the tree.' I've been given strict instructions to make sure I get on the correct khombi (bus) before I ask to get dropped off at esinlahleni, otherwise I will find myself at a tree just not the right tree. Its difficult to describe where I live when I seem to spend my time looking at the similarities between here and there, rather than the differences. Same people, some say hi, some Sawubona (hi in Swati), some holler goodness knows what out of the khombi as it goes past. The roads are dirt alcoves and driveways, connected by run-down asphalt main roads. Houses are a little worn, and often hidden behind concrete walls. At the moment all of the kids have the vuvuzelas (the long trumpet-like plastic instruments) for the world-cup- I woke up to the kids in a house across the road having an orchestra session with them at 8 in the morning. They were practicing last night, they are getting rather good.

Maybe I could describe the locale as a little tired, but not the people.

Anyway, this is my road. I walk down it to get the Khombi in the morning for work. Those are the kids who will have mastered the art of playing the world-cup vuvuzelas by mid July.

'Average' Swazi Problems

Today was spent driving around the Swaziland country side attending to errands- picking up files from Save The Children, checking up on a counselling site run by SWAGAA, attempting to get a work permit and dropping note books off at one our highschool which holds a 'girls empowerment club.'

Notice that we only attempted to get the work permit, highly unsuccessful. But very important considering I told the lovely border officer who was sitting behind a plywood desk when I landed in Manzini that I was only here for a holiday for a few weeks. The government building which holds all to do with immigration, visas and work permits, is like an old victorian hospital, like something out of 'A Series of Unfortunate Events.' Imagine a badly lit, zero security, measles outbreak era hospital with various food stuffs being sold in the lobby. After we found the correct floor we walked up and down the hallway, knocking on numerous doors, stepping over and around the queues of people in the hallway. When we found the correct room, literally a 2 metre by 3 metre room, we were told in 3 words that we didn't have the correct documents. Right, better luck next time.

But no complaints really, the next stop of the day puts the queues in perspective. We went by one of the girls empowerment clubs in a girls highschool about 40 minutes drive out of Mbabane on rough dirt roads. A girls empowerment club is a forum for girls in primary school and highschool to learn about issues that effect them, and to speak up on the same. Maybe there will be a workshop on AIDS issues one week (age permitting of course) and the next about violence in the home.

We get to the school and one of the highschool teacher says, 'we lost one of the girls.' Since we were talking about membership and activities in the club, I didn't understand immediately what the highschool teacher meant. One of the girls in the club had died of AIDS. She was 16 and had been suffering from birth. I can see why the government buildings are falling apart, when in the every day reality for a Swazi person there are much bigger fish to fry.

Swaziland Commission on Human Rights

Yesterday I was asked if I wanted to go to a meeting today for work. OK.

Turns out that the meeting is a two day consultation conference about the establishment of a Human Rights Committee for Swaziland. Officially, the 'National Consultative Conference on the Swaziland Commission on Human Rights and Public Administration.' It is being held at the Royal Swazi Spa in Ezulwini, about 20 minutes out of Manzini.

The commissioners for the HRC have already been appointed, on the basis of Constitutional provisions (a very new constitution, 2005), now they are in the process of passing a bill to finalize the commission itself. The bill has been in the works since 2007- it takes a while for things to get done here.

It was very interesting getting a feel for the politics of human rights in Swaziland. At day 1 of the consultation there were politicians, chiefs, NGO representatives and HRC representatives from other Commonwealth countries, including Justice Emile Short a former judge of the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda and now the Head Commissioner for the Ghana HRC. A lot of the attendants were very annoyed that they only saw the Bill for the first time today, so I imagine the debates will be very lively tomorrow after attendants have pored over documents tonight.

Life Lessons

Swazi Lesson 1:
When possible, Swazis do not buy food, they pick it.

Shopping in the local supermaket I pick up an avocado. As you do. Just a regular, hand sized avocado. My host brother laughs at me- these Swazis love to laugh, as my new co-worker says 'try to figure out if they are laughing with you or at you.' As my host brother explains to me, Swazi folk don't pay for avocados, they pick them!

Sure enough, I get home and our next door neighbour drops by with an avocado the size of 4 avocados from the tree in her garden.

Lesson learnt. Now if only i was here for mango season!