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.