My Everyday Woman

My mother. First met her in 1991. A year later she married the man who happens to be my father. In 1993 I started living with them full time. Based on stories I heard told by my peers about stepmothers - how evil they are towards step children - I did not believe she'd ever have my best interest at heart. Every chore and every beating felt a bit unjustified. And unjust. Each time she reprimanded me, I'd think to myself, "Vele bayabasho." And it would always end with me writing a note to my old man requesting that I go back to live with my maternal grandmother in Maliyaduma. See my life was wonderful there. No one would touch me, not even my biological mother. Umfana wagogo abengasuye wekudlala! And the answer was NO each time. Which meant I'd only get a break when schools close, when I'd be allowed one week to go visit. I'd flinch each time someone referred to her as my mother and forgetting to make the distinction.

The saying is older than old, yet true for today as when it was made to be told; TIME WILL REVEAL EVERYTHING. With time I realised it never was as bad as I thought it was. In fact, it wasn't bad at all! I had it good. Two wonderful women in my life to mother me. Quite often we use other people's prejudice against people to inform our engagements and overall relationships with others. There are people we violently dislike because WE’VE BEEN TOLD they are mean. It has taken years, but part of my own personal growth has involved deciding that I ought to take what people say of others with a pinch of salt. Or just not take it at all, but I digress…

I sent her a text some months back, thanking her for playing her role in my life with great aplomb and being such a wonderful parent to my siblings. She replied, with a thank you text herself. Thanking me for allowing her to be my mother, saying she learnt a lot about parenting then. I hate calling her Step Mom now. She's my mother and a good friend of mine. Her smile warms my heart. Always! She gave me three wonderful siblings who would go to the ends of the world for me (and never come back because they’d wait in hope I would come to pick them up. LOL). Yes we still have our differences in opinion, taste and other stuff. But those differences pale in comparison to the commonalities, thus we hardly ever find time to focus on them. Given a chance to start over, I would not trade those "hard times" for anything. There were too many life-long lessons that have helped me deal with a whole lot of things in this life.

I thank whatever Gods may be for giving me two wonderful women to mother me. My Everyday Women.

NB:

Worth noting, is at any point in my life, from infancy up until now, it has always been a requirement to have two women taking good care of me. From my two grandmothers to my two mothers. It’s God’s plan for my life, that’s how I’ve always been sheltered. And on both occasions, the two have always gotten together quite well. Hope you understand. LOL

Lost In Neglect

Something I've always wanted to say, but just didn't know how. I've always felt overwhelmed when trying to put my thoughts on this issue. A Whatsapp conversation this morning was inspiring enough for me to go digging, and found something quite close to what I've always wanted to say.

Here goes...

"A lot has been done to give the girl child her voice. Groups and activists come together with many projects that are all about helping the girl child unshackle the chains keeping her down. But the boy child has been left behind. While the girl child is enjoying her freedom and coming out of her shell, the boy is fighting to be treated better. The female gender is considered to be the weaker sex. We are thought to lag behind in most things. In every field, a man is considered superior so that qualifying standards are lowered so we can fit in. Our issues are given more prominence since its assumed men can handle their issues.

I believe a girl is more likely to open up if overwhelmed by huddles. On the other hand, a boy mostly bottles up every bit of anguish or pain. He has been brought up to not show weakness, most cultures believe a man keeps his issues to himself. Should he come out and talk about it, his peers will call him weak, he will be told to deal with it on his own, that only women cry and expect to be helped. The sad truth for their silent agony is because very few listen. Rather than be shunned for speaking out, he will "man up" and secretly deal with it.

The fact that society seems more focused on the girl child is rapidly suffocating the male child. He is just as vulnerable as the girl child. Due to society's underestimation of the boy's needs, they are now being subjected to various tormenting acts. He is prone to sexual assault and suffering as any other child. For solace, they are turning to vices. They need to find a way to fend for themselves or to deal with their issues. Narcotics and alcohol abuse as well as crime seem to the way for them to do this. It is the place they can find consolation. Society sees this but brushes it off as "boys will be boys" when girls are found in such situations, activists come out guns blazing saying its because they have been ignored. They defend the girls and seek help for them. The boys are left to go back to their old ways. This needs to stop.

Intervention is crucial before our young male generation gets devoured. A child is a child. It should be remembered that no gender is more superior or stronger. Girls have been the weaker sex for ages, but as they get stronger we must remember to also care for the bo. It is wrong to empower one sex at the expense of another. Don't let the boy child succumb to destitution. He is just as vulnerable as the girl child." - Lulu Akaki

Sourced from the National HIV Programs Report (2014)

"Ultimately, the boys are expected to be men to lead and provide for families. Where will these men come from?" Quite sobering a question to wake up to. Quite tragic how we have neglected the boy child across all sectors. Looking at the HIV Programs Annual Report of 2014 (National) which was disseminated by the Ministry yesterday left me wondering if we are really asking the right questions with regards to certain things or we are just following world trends and ignoring what the available evidence in our own setting tells us. The HIV positivity rates are higher for males for much of the younger ages, up to about age 29. It never was highlighted as a major concern in the dissemination meeting yesterday. No one, myself included, bothered to ask where these boys are getting the HIV from. I probably wouldn't have noticed had it not been one of the people I shared the report with raising some critical questions this morning after looking through the report.

Last week, at another meeting to discuss findings of the recently completed Multiple Indicator Cluster Survey, there was a lengthy discussion on the girl child. How we can improve programming for improved health outcomes for young girls. How we need to reach “the transmitters” – the old men having sex with young girls and infecting them in the process. How through the Voluntary Medical Male Circumcision programme we have been able to provide protection for the young boys and there’s nothing similar to cover the young girls. I have never, not even once, heard it asked in any forum; “Who transmits HIV to the young boys?” Is it not a critical question worth asking, especially in light of what the available data is saying? For young girls, the question is always asked, and much of the responses are centred around culture (the abuse thereof) and intergenerational sex – the abuse of young girls by older men.

The general consensus is, the boy child is well-covered. They are strong enough to fend for themselves, the vulnerabilities are not the same. We choose not to examine the evidence and just go with the flow. Run with what the donor community identifies as critical.

But shall we not live to regret?

The Language of Tears

 Tis often said, "You don't know what you have until it's gone," meaning we usually take for granted the very things that deserve our gratitude the most. As I sit here, alone, listening to songs that remind me of you, sad you're gone, but glad we departed from the norm a countless number of times, showing gratitude for the roles we've played in each other's lives over the years. Never shy to say, "Thank You for being my friend." And those were the last words shared between us, a few hours before I was told you'd been admitted with food poisoning being the prime suspect.

A huge part of me is still stuck in that time, refusing to catch up with events that have been since then. Struggling to process how someone can move from writing, with that cheeky smile I imagined, "Uyahlanya mfana wami" - when I threatened to find me a new friend because you'd left the country without letting me know - to that state I saw you in on that hospital bed in such a short time?! Perhaps, the answer is LIFE IS FRAGILE.

TemGcie with some members of Lend A Hand

Eternally grateful I will be to have had you contribute to my life in the most positive of ways. Glad to have been on the same team as you, trying to improve lives through #LendAHand. Knowing you'd be there each time I needed someone to be. Because of you, I know what true friendship is. I know the joy and comfort of knowing you have someone you can call late at night for them to go pick your brother from school and drop him home because you're still out having fun courtesy of your youth. 

There's no getting used to this part of life, with each death awaking in our hearts the longing for permanence. In Paul's letter to the Philippines he wrote, "I am hard-pressed between the two; my desire to depart and be with Christ, for that is better. But to remain in the flesh is more necessary on your account." Fight, you did to remain in the flesh on our account. You knew there's still a lot of lives in need of your gentle caring hand even though the strain your body had taken dictated departing would be far better. You wished to serve, and you did. Selfishly, we wish you were still alive. But we do know you’re in a far better space than what life had confined you in the last couple of months. I find solace in that.

This is probably the most incoherent thing I've ever written, and you'd probably tell me that much too. Too soon to make sense of anything, and I'm in no rush to forget about you so I'll definitely make it right at some point.

I'm a mess right now. Truth is, you've been gone for months, but reports of improvements in your condition gave us hope we'd soon ask, almost rhetorically, "Awusuye yini?" after you'd asked what was always meant to be a rhetorical question as well; "Yini ngatsi nicabanga kutsi ngingugogo wenu?" Tears fill my eyes, but they refuse to fall. Probably because you'd laugh at me if you saw them. Then say you're not laughing at me, you're laughing at the tears, trying to dodge a slap to the back of your head. So I'll let them hang there until they're brave enough to fall. Would really love to talk to God this one time, but words fail me. I find comfort, however, in knowing He understands the language of tears. You taught me that much.

Phumula Mntolo. Mphotholozi. Me, I'll just sit here and listen to songs that remind me of you and your infectious smile.

*Originally posted on my facebook page on Saturday, 16 May 2015

Of Vision 2022 and Slippery Slopes

For a country dreaming of joining the elite class of First World countries, Swaziland is fraught with an undesirable cocktail of social ills and two things are at the very centre of it all; religion and culture.

The two things we hold closest to our hearts as a country are the main reasons why the ‘First World by 2022’ will remain lofty a dream. An exciting rumour. Religion and Culture are not the cause, but they definitely are the reason why we fail to address these social ills adequately. I have said this somewhere, and don’t mind saying it again; much of the time we let religion and culture cloud our understanding of issues, hence our failure to design strategies to adequately address these issues.

Culture has been central a focus in response to the HIV/AIDS epidemic in Swaziland. I love culture and do tolerate religion. Our affections for culture and religion ensures we are a society without a moral vacuum, but does not take away the problems that come with having an empty space where morals are supposed to be. Awareness is one thing, being willing to conform is another.

Case in point, sex work. It is an open secret; sex work does exist in Swaziland, in different ways! There is the widely-accepted ‘white collar’ type of sex work and the ‘blue collar’ type of sex work. 

The 'white collar' sex worker goes to work at her salaried 'day job' and does not publicly turn trick. She supplements her salary by 'earning' extra money for the rent, tuition and related fees, running her car and keeping her well supplied in expensive Brazilian hair weaves, and a few extras like the crossover party and etcetera by sleeping with one, two or more men regularly at the same time. She is in multiple concurrent sexual relationships – one of the key drivers of the epidemic in the country.

(Worth pointing out is this is not restricted to females only, the white collar type of sex work. Males are also playing the field – for commercial purposes. Whilst Swaziland is still struggling to come to grips with the whole idea that a man can be a sex worker, countries such as Uganda have already begun implementing strategies to reach out to male sex workers with information and services.)

The ‘blue collar’ sex worker, on the other hand, openly works in the sex industry; going to work in locations where her customers will find her and access her services at a fee – we’ve seen them at roadsides and street corners. Personally, I have no objection to people doing it. Well, that is as long as my family and those close to me stay as far away from it as possible, because of the dangers, especially the physical violence that come with the state protection for perpetrators of violence against ‘ blue collar’ sex workers.

Research emerging from certain parts of the world suggests that female university students are the fastest growing segment of the sex industry, which points to sex work being more an independent business choice than an issue of exploitation. Some of the women in the sex industry come from healthy, well-adjusted families, and decide they would rather work a few hours a week as a sex worker than work a low-paying job. Or do both. Whatever the case, it still is mostly a matter of choice. There is money to be made (so much for "ingubo ayinamali", LOL), and some sex-starved husbands to serve before they get back to the warzone that their bedrooms have become.

In Swaziland, sex work is illegal. Or rather, ‘blue collar’ sex, widely referred to as commercial sex (But, if you really think about it though, all sex is commercial!), is illegal. The laws that govern such are based largely on culture and religion than they are on sense/lucidity. Being illegal an industry, it follows that there are no supportive structures for those involved in it. Only jail awaits.

Now, consider this; the HIV prevalence amongst ‘blue collar’ sex workers in Swaziland is 70.3%. In English, this means 7 out of ten sex workers in Swaziland are HIV positive, more than double (31%) the prevalence in the general population for females in same age group (15-49). Of these, only 38.7 percent are receiving treatment from a health care provider. Given the nature of the sexual networks in this lovely country, this should be a cause for concern.

The restrictive laws are not helping at all as they now serve as a barrier, not only to ‘blue collar’ sex workers accessing required treatment, care and support services, but also to the country’s mooted move towards joining the elite club.

Sex workers, the ‘blue collar’ type, are classified as most-at-risk populations in as far as HIV infection is concerned, and it’s largely because of the laws. The same study from which the figures above were taken, the MARPS Bio-Behavioural Surveillance Survey (BSS, 2012), revealed that 123 (39.2%) of the sex workers interviewed reported to have ever been raped at some point, main culprits being one-time clients, family members, regular partner, regular client, and uniformed (police, military, security) officers.

Laws, along with social stigma, make it easy for predators to go after ‘blue collar’ sex workers. This is just one of the many structural risks that this particular group has to contend with on a daily basis. For the ‘white collar sex worker, life is generally easy. To her, and to society, hers is not sex work. She just earns extra income from being 'kept' by regular man-friends, some of whom have wives and other women. Condoms? Maybe in some but not all her relationships.

“It’s well-deserved. Anyone involved in such illicit acts deserves all the suffering that comes their way.” Common mutterings about the sex workers on the street corners and roadsides aren’t they?! The question we should be asking ourselves though is, those rapists, who do they go home to afterwards? It’s an Intersexions type of society this Swaziland of ours; our lives intersect in many mysterious ways.

Alfred Alcorn once said, “The moral high ground to which I aspired had turned into a slippery slope.” Perhaps we need to come to that realization as a country as well. This moral high ground, deeply rooted in religion and culture, is becoming very slippery by the day. 

Woza 2022!

Swazi Youth at Independence

For the average Swazi youth, there is not much significance about living in an independent country, where there is little or no reward for hard work and/ excellence in any field if you do not have the right connections. A country where the general dominating trends are an ailing economy and pervasive poverty which have, in turn, influenced an increased vulnerability that is associated with one of the highest HIV prevalence rates in the world. Instead of spending time improving our knowledge and skills for the betterment of the country, our time is wasted searching for ‘connections’, trying to align ourselves with the ‘right’ people so we to can get a piece of the pie. So we can be able to move from the back of the line.

One would have hoped that by finally being ‘set free’ from British rule, Swaziland would be in a much better position to take care of her own. In particular, the youth. It is often said the youth “ngumliba loya embili” (they are the future), but the evidence on the ground points to a country that has no intention of making great investments in the future generations. There is this whole buzz about Swaziland becoming a first world country by 2022. How do we expect to attain first world status if we do not invest in the future generations?

I know, this is a time for celebration and I should be highlighting the positives – but it’s hard highlighting something that is barely there! Well, maybe there is are a few positives to highlight; recently, the country conducted a HIV Incidence Measurement Survey (SHIMS), the results of which elicit the kind of shock that would almost certainly make a grown man fall off his chair, pointing to a disadvantaged youth. How else do we explain the HIV incidence rate being highest at 20-24 for females (4.2%), and for males aged 30-34 (3.1%)? In simple English, this means there chances of HIV infection are highest for these sexes at these respective age groups. It all points to an imbalance of some sorts in society that needs to be addressed.

Still on the subject of positives, which I guess was the whole point of this piece, the past year has seen quite a few steps being taken towards the right direction; the passing by parliament of the Sexual Offences and Domestic Violence Bill of 2009 and the endorsement and launch of the Child Protection and Welfare Act of 2011. Good steps towards addressing some of the ills that face the youth in present day Swaziland. Until such time that an implementation/operational plan is developed and implemented as vigorously as other laws like the (in)famous drink-driving one, I shall keep the champagne on ice at this end.

See, what we stand to inherit as the youth is a country that is content with doing just enough to avoid international sanctions, and not enough to improve livelihoods of the general populace. A country whose culture is under attack from the very same people who are supposed to be the custodians. Swazi culture has often been blamed for the apparent gender inequality (as you would expect in a patriarchal society) that has in turn influenced, amongst other disasters, one of the highest HIV prevalence rates in the world. Culture on its own is not the problem. The abuse of culture is. The youth today have no one willing to impart comprehensive knowledge on key cultural issues – how and why some cultural practices exist.

The youth themselves are not without sin in all this. Whilst trying to find ways to best approach this assignment, I asked a few youths the question; “What does Swaziland’s independence mean to you?” All 6 replied, “Nothing”, then proceeded to try convince me why it should mean nothing to me as well. Interesting discussions I must say, and they raised some interesting valid points.

Post-independence Swaziland has had her fair share of epidemics to deal with, but there is one that is steadily tightening its grip on Swazi youth. The most dangerous of all we have had to deal with; indifference. Indifference seems to be the weapon of choice for the Swazi youth today. It is the coping mechanism that is being employed to survive the frustrations that come with being a youth in this country. We seem to have given up hope for this country getting things right, pushing ourselves out if these gravel roads we are in onto the highway to first world status. Someone I don’t know once said, “Participate in your life. Don’t just bear witness to the rain washing you away.” We need to involve ourselves in the development of this country; it is a responsibility we have to ourselves and future generations. The indifference will catch up with us in only a few years, when it’s our turn to take the ball and run with it.

Back to the question: What does independence mean to the Swazi youth? Independence, in general, means not depending on authority or control; being at liberty to form one’s own opinion and not depending on anyone for one’s livelihood. This points to one thing; responsibility. We, as the youth, have a responsibility to ourselves, to the country and to future generations. That’s what independence should mean to us. The saying is older than old, yet true for today as when it was made to be told; “It is always easy to dodge our responsibilities, but we cannot dodge the consequences of dodging those responsibilities.”

*I probably should have made reference to the Ministry of Sports and Youth Affairs, and the Swaziland National Youth Council, but I am afraid my vocabulary is not expansive enough to adequately explain my feelings for them and the disservice they have perfected over the years.

In Holy Matrimony

I had an ‘Aha!’ (Ahhana! in SiSwati) moment this month,” but I’m afraid it was not a good one”, when I was completing an application form for some training course. For the first time it  revealed the true purpose of that ‘Marital Status’ question found in almost every other form one is required to fill when applying for a job or just any other application.

Completing the other sections of the form was a breeze. First Name: SIFISO (I always use ‘Sifiso’ when given the chance to write my name down, but resort to ‘Zwide’ whenever I am required to verbally state who am I. Why?! Well, pronouncing ‘Sifiso’ is no fun for someone who has lisp!) Last Name: NDWANDWE. It was all a routine up until I got to that ‘Marital Status’ where the requirement was to just tick in a box; the box that best describes my current status in relation to nuptials and all.

Having been so content being ‘Single’ for a while, I noticed how discontentment has started creeping in the last couple of years. There is a growing reluctance to put a tick or cross against the ‘Single’ box. It no longer is as reflex action as it used to be, the disgruntlement with the  status quo shined through. Often I have blamed those "why aren't you married yet" questions that come at the WORST times and, my married peers for the discontent. The truth however can be summed up in a simple phrase comprised of just two words; contentment varies. Life rarely is static where we are “just fine” or “not fine” with anything in our lives. My suspicions remain valid though, those comments can never be totally ignored, and peer-pressure is an ever-present feature in life.

There seems to be great societal pressure to get married around age 30 (I suspect the age is even lower for females). Fast approaching the age 30 myself, the questions, “Why are you not married?” and “When are you getting married?” have now gone under the Frequently Asked Questions section in my snap profile. The answers I give vary depending on who asked, factoring in the weather conditions at the time as well.

See, that ‘Marital Status’ thing has nothing to do at all with collecting your demographics. Zilch! It is ONLY meant for one to reflect on their lives; how far they have deviated from acceptable societal standards. For me, the section no longer reads, “Marital Status”, but rather, “Why aren’t you married?”

If I were to tell the truth, thereby doing my bit to shame the devil, I would testify that my battle is against fear, nothing else. Fear of losing my freedom. Fear of becoming a statistic, going into the record books as one of those whose marriage failed. Most of all, the fear of having unprotected sex, LOL. Ok, maybe not that. Honestly though, there are just too many broken marriages, one cannot help but wonder if it is worth it. They say, “Nothing ventured, nothing gained…” But, as John Legend sang, “…If I bath in your river, then I may drown. So, the chance of a lifetime, I’ll turn it down.” Maybe not.

I have since learned that having so much time to yourself as I do can be a great advantage if channeled properly. If you do not understand yourself, my take is you never will understand what a good fit would be for you. You’ll wind up spending your life trying to fit squared pegs in circled holes, or vice versa, getting more convinced with each failure that karma is out to get you.

For the first time ever, I feel I am ready to go down that dreaded road, and this is why; I have spent enough time on myself to understand what a good ‘fit’ would be for me. My 20s have really been the time in my life when I really began to understand who I was, what my dreams are, what I want out of life, and figuring out what my career was going to be like.

I am very much aware of what my personal short-comings are, hence I know what is needed to complement them and make me stronger. I have also grown to understand how much freedom I need. I do not have it all figured out yet (for instance, I do not know what color underwear I would love to wear on the night before my wedding day), but it took some time to just get to know myself. I am certain it would have been a lot harder with the distraction of a relationship all up in the mix of those formative years, demanding more than just a Streetwise 2, Chomp, and an occasional hug.

Turning 30 on December 4 this year, I suspect the day will be more a start of a mid-life crisis than it will be a birthday. With life rumoured to only begin at 40, the noisy little boy in me says I have 10 more years to figure this whole thing out. The reality though is thus; the calendar is ticking! Just like Raphael Saadiq, “it is hard for me to wear my watch, because all I hear is ‘Tick’ and ‘Tock’.”