Last week of work before round 2 of holidays begin!
This week we took all the classes from Moriah Centre on a
little school trip to Matata; they learned about the Post Office, bank, clinic,
Police Station, bought some treats from the shop and had a walk around the dam
to see the ducks. It was the first time they had ever posted a letter in a post
box and the first time they’d ever been shut in the dingy outside prison cells
at the back of the Police Station (and the last time I hope!)
We had such a great time seeing them outside of the preschool, interacting with people, and learning about just how much/or how little they know about the world around them. When I was driving the oldest class to Matata I was so shocked (and happy) when they pointed to things outside the windows and were referring to them in English, the cutest thing was every time we went over a speed bump they all said “up down, up down!”
We had such a great time seeing them outside of the preschool, interacting with people, and learning about just how much/or how little they know about the world around them. When I was driving the oldest class to Matata I was so shocked (and happy) when they pointed to things outside the windows and were referring to them in English, the cutest thing was every time we went over a speed bump they all said “up down, up down!”
Coming back from Injabulo one day this week gave me my first
African public transport horror story; a woman had a miscarriage on the kombi.
One moment she was fine and the next she stood up clutching her stomach and
there was blood all over where she had been sitting, the back of her skirt was
saturated red and on her way out of the kombi she trailed blood all along the
walls. It was terrible. I felt so sorry for her because she was only young AND
was basically chucked off the kombi; she had also desperately tried to clean up
the mess herself by wiping it up with a sanitary pad, but they just wanted her
off. This story also adds to my questions of just how hygienic some kombis are
because once she had left a Gogo (Grandmother) dry wiped the blood up with some
tissues and then someone else took her seat. Gross.
Friday this week was a Swazi public holiday; aka the King’s
Birthday! He had a huge celebration at Siteki Sports Ground and everyone was
welcome to go. We set off early in the morning with high hopes for the day; I
even packed my sun cream and sunglasses because I knew that we’d be outside all
day and I would fry like a chicken. I needn’t have worried. What I really
needed was a set of thermals and a ski jacket. Siteki was FREEZING COLD; there
was so much fog that you couldn’t even see the seats at the other side of the
stadium, barely 100m away. What made matters worse is that I was wearing flip
flops, a knee length skirt, a strappy top and a ¾ length cardigan... definitely
underdressed for the weather.
The entertainment did an okay job at distracting me from my chattering teeth and blue feet, there were choirs, traditional dancers and majorettes doing rifle sequences. It was brilliant to see as the only style of traditional dance we had been before was Ummiso, and luckily this time we got to see the type of dancing and clothes worn at the famous Reed Dance (Swaziland’s most famous event, and one that us volunteers never get to see as it happens after our departure and before the new vols come out), I felt so sorry for the poor girls as they were topless in the zero temperatures and after they had finished they all but sprinted across the stadium to throw on as many clothes as they could find!
In typical Swazi style the King arrived one hour late; by this time I had already been sat freezing cold for over 3 hours, you could hardly even see him arrive due to the fog and he had to do a walk around of the stadium so that everyone could get a glimpse. So for about 10 seconds before he disappeared into the fog again the King waved vaguely in the direction of the stands that we were seated on. All the Swazi people were going absolutely wild and screaming for the King, how they had that much energy left after being sat frozen for hours on end I do not know.
We sat through his speech for a respectable amount of time before deciding that it was definitely time to leave for somewhere warmer, so swaddled in traditional Swazi dress kindly lent to be by the Aunties from Sisekelo who we were sitting with I made my way to the bus rank with Ashley, who was luckily dressed more warmly than I was. Lots of people stared at the white girl shivering in the Swazi sheets and the majority of them laughed as well, but I was past caring. I don’t think I’ve ever been this cold in Africa!
The entertainment did an okay job at distracting me from my chattering teeth and blue feet, there were choirs, traditional dancers and majorettes doing rifle sequences. It was brilliant to see as the only style of traditional dance we had been before was Ummiso, and luckily this time we got to see the type of dancing and clothes worn at the famous Reed Dance (Swaziland’s most famous event, and one that us volunteers never get to see as it happens after our departure and before the new vols come out), I felt so sorry for the poor girls as they were topless in the zero temperatures and after they had finished they all but sprinted across the stadium to throw on as many clothes as they could find!
In typical Swazi style the King arrived one hour late; by this time I had already been sat freezing cold for over 3 hours, you could hardly even see him arrive due to the fog and he had to do a walk around of the stadium so that everyone could get a glimpse. So for about 10 seconds before he disappeared into the fog again the King waved vaguely in the direction of the stands that we were seated on. All the Swazi people were going absolutely wild and screaming for the King, how they had that much energy left after being sat frozen for hours on end I do not know.
We sat through his speech for a respectable amount of time before deciding that it was definitely time to leave for somewhere warmer, so swaddled in traditional Swazi dress kindly lent to be by the Aunties from Sisekelo who we were sitting with I made my way to the bus rank with Ashley, who was luckily dressed more warmly than I was. Lots of people stared at the white girl shivering in the Swazi sheets and the majority of them laughed as well, but I was past caring. I don’t think I’ve ever been this cold in Africa!
Over the weekend we stayed with Kathy and Richard in Manzini
so that they could drop us off at the bus rank early on Sunday morning to catch
our kombi to Johannesburg! The journey wasn’t too bad apart from me spending
most of the time staring at my backpack perched in the trailer in a position
that made it incredibly easy for it to be stolen. Once again we found ourselves
in the infamous Park Central Station, Johannesburg’s bus rank, I know I’ve said
it before and I will say it again, this is the dodgiest and scariest place that
I’ve ever been. Every second I feel like I’m about to me mugged, stabbed or
dragged off into a world of sex trafficking. We had to spend 5 hours in this
place. When 6:00pm rolled around and it was time to get on our Intercape bus I
couldn’t be happier, the next 16 hours of bus journey were in guaranteed safety
and that’s exactly what I needed after 5 hours in Park Central Station.
Holiday trip ‘Round 2’... commence!
Kate xx
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