Avocadoes, AIDs and ignorance

I’m sitting down to write after having had my usual Portugese rolls (still not sure exactly what these are) and avocado for lunch. The avocadoes are so cheap and oh my(!) I cannot describe how good they are. They do not have the starchy quality and plastic tastelessness which seems to plague their European counterparts, instead their seductive creaminess makes it difficult to decide whether you would rather rub their soft pulp all over your body or actually eat them. While the entire Southern African region has a pretty good rep for their quality of avocadoes Swaziland is particularly well endowed (sorry couldn’t resist) – so if you are in the region go to a street seller – NOT a supermarket - and get some. But be sure to ask for some especially ripe ones – if you’re as pale as I am they will assume you want the harder tasteless ones.

This lunch has brought me on to writing about women and relationships in Swaziland, because all I can think about now is how female sexuality here sits in stark contrast with the pure pleasure and, yes I would go so far as to say sensuality, of these avocadoes. Unprotected sex is what is rotting this country with 25% of the population suffer from AIDs here. It is a national epidemic. As a direct consequence the life expectancy here is 38 – the lowest in the world.  As is the case in other countries, no one is quite sure what to do about this. The toilets of my office have a hamper of condoms sitting by the kitchen sink and the border control has dispensers which are overflowing. No one takes them. I simply cannot understand why men gamble their lives by not using condoms. Most seem to accept two things in life: firstly that they are entitled to sleep with as many women as they want, whether they are married or not and secondly that it is likely they will contract AIDs as a result. Most NGOs here treat abstinence and strict monogamy as the best way for dealing with AIDs. However, it is clear that this stance is having minimal impact on how people actually live their lives. Part of the problem lies in the fact that women are not entitled to expect fidelity from their husbands. In fact, if a man stays faithful to his wife – the only thing anyone would say is ‘Why?’ It would be assumed that there is something wrong with the man, and most certainly not a quality which is valued by society.  

I have no idea what the solution is. I feel pretty powerless in all of this. For the first time in my life I have had my opinions shot down with the phrase ‘You white people’ or, with a roll of the eyes - ‘You are just SO white.’ I am conscious that I come across as ignorant at points and that most of my arguments imply that I am entitled to feel things, to act because of passion, desire and because of what I want. The advice I have to give is as if these women live in the UK too. Here women do not think about what they want or value. They marry and do their best to put up with infidelity and beatings as a trade for stability. Love and affection, something most of us would consider a prerequisite for a relationship, is considered a rare bonus. They hope that they are lucky and that their partners do not have sex with infected women or men – but the number of orphans in Swaziland is steadily growing because so few men refrain from extra marital affairs. UNICEF and other NGOs are struggling to care for these vulnerable children and assume the role that was once taken care of by the child’s family because of lack of funding.

I think the view women have of relationships is almost epitomised by how they see lesbianism. It is seen as the ultimate exotic life choice and self indulgence. It puts your sex life over stability and the traditional family concept – so central to life here. Satisfaction does not seem to be a consideration, though sadly nor does remaining faithful to an abusive partner guarantee safety.

Though I do wonder if they feel a similar sense of pity for me and my unstable lifestyle, if I am as alien to them as they are to me. But I’m afraid that I’ll probably never know. I don’t think I want to know the answer.

Week 1 Swaziland

The power keeps cutting out as I write this so apologies if it seems a bit disjointed. Mbabane, and in fact Swaziland as a country is incredibly mountainous and suffers from pretty extreme weather conditions at times. While it is not yet the season known for lightning strikes it is astonishingly windy and I think that this may be the source of my electrical problems. And it is making such a bloody racket outside. Last night the wind was making so much noise that I woke up thinking someone was breaking into my house – I jumped out of bed and ran into the hall hurling abuse at the would-be assailant and yielding the frying pan I keep beside my bed (for these exact purposes). My poor guard had no idea what was going on and started shouting to me from outside, obviously assuming that I was in danger and not, as was the case, a complete idiot.

Despite my paranoia Swaziland seems to be a pretty safe country – this is according not only to my own experiences in the week that I’ve been here, but also those of my colleagues in the UNICEF office and the staff of the Waterford UWC. The most hassle I have had has been the odd marriage proposal or the offer of someone’s shoulder as a pillow. The men I have met here actually remind me a bit of men in Northern Ireland – they could be construed as misogynistic and seedy, but really they are pretty well meaning and jovial. And it is in tune with the Swazi culture, where being friendly to everyone and open about everything you think is a very important part of how Swazi people interact. It is considered rude to speak to someone, even in passing in a shop, and not first ask how they are. While this is a nice little ritual some people find it gets a bit annoying quite quickly, but I still appreciate the sentiment, especially after my last few months spent in the London. Maybe I’m just cut out for a more rural way of living? You can take the girl out of Donaghadee....harhar.

I’ve also joined a local basketball team, who are so lovely and make me feel like the new Michael Jordan. I can just hold the ball above my head and no one can touch it without fouling me.  It makes me realise how important a role sport can play in making friendships. It encourages the kind of camaraderie that can transcend nationalities and even language. If I hadn’t joined this team (who are the current local league winners – jussaying!) there would have been little chance of meeting native Swazis and not simply sticking to the expat circuit, which is so common in many African countries. So shout out to Mr Cameron for reinstating compulsory competitive sports in schools – good call.

I need to go rescue my laundry before it all blows away. But I didn’t have time to talk about the incredibly interesting political situation here! Next time.