Cake or Death?

So... things. Things have been... strange.

Despite how conflicted I usually seem, when there is a situation that requires me to make a choice, I usually know what I am going to do on some deeper level. I've spent the past few days thinking some pretty crazy things. Last night I was planning a route from Swaziland to Egypt (flying over Sudan, of course). I've decided since then that I might forgo that particular trip. Initially I though it would be a great way to leave the continent--I wouldn't feel like I hadn't done anything, and I'd certainly want to leave by the time I got to Egypt. But after reading the travel warnings for Mozambique, Malawi, Zambia, Tanzinia, Kenya, and Uganda, I've decided maybe not. Traveling at night in any of those places is not recommended, and traveling alone is certainly not recommended. Then there is the fact that I am a white American woman. Also, the visa for Tanzania is $100. When I started charting a route by boat around Tanzinia (because otherwise I would have to cut through the Congo... no visa fee, but that is sort of a "cake or death?" situation)... I realized that getting on a boat that close to Somalia is probably not advisable. Please don't let it be said that I have no sense of self preservation. Instead I'll just catch a plane to Ghana and get to Egypt from there. ;P

But seriously, I realized that I probably need to stay here for a little while longer. I've bounced back and forth between thinking that I am a terrible daughter for staying, but then also a terrible daughter for leaving. And it has been impossible, over the past week, to figure out what was going to disappoint others, and also which move would end up with me disappointing my self. Last night I did a fair amount of meditating on the subject, and for right this moment, I have decided to stay in Africa, and see how things unfold. I can always change my mind and leave sooner. If Africa has taught me anything yet, it is patience (to some degree), and that things can always (and often do) change. Suddenly, and without warning. I may have learned this elsewhere already, but it has been concreted here.

So, that is that strangeness.

The other strangeness is the fact that I am dreaming again. Vividly. I think it is the malaria prophylactics and stress finally taking their toll. All of them have revolved around travel, predictably. The two strangest did, at least. One involves a group of American tourist traveling around Africa, or Latin America, or possibly both. All I know is; there was some crazy warlord/dictator who was obsessed with circuses, and somehow these tourists got roped into things (literally) when the dictator decided that he wanted to incorporate the aerial ballet/intense trapeze into his circus. The idea the dictator had planned out was all unrefined and crass, but then the Americans swooped in (oh god the puns) and helped him to refine it into a truly graceful and magnificent display. Oh, and of course, the Americans helped this dictator to realize the error of his ways, and democracy ruled the land. I’m not sure if that actually happened, but there was definitely a good deal of groan-worthy symbolism regarding the willingness of people to destroy their culture to attain modernization, and the American tendency to slightly overdo the whole "Americanization" thing. Somewhere in there, there was a good traveler/bad traveler moral as well. This was one of those dreams where you aren’t even in it, but watching everything. Even despite that, it was a freakin' exhausting dream.

The dream I had last night involved Vietnam (during the war), bulldozers, rice paddies, and a blood-red sunset. I was there with someone from the CIA. And then suddenly it was night, and I was in Africa with Erin, and we were hiding in some alleyway and changing out of traditional Swazi garb into jeans, while worrying about how to get to Kinshasa without running into any Hutu or Tutsi patrols. Weird shit.

In other news, the weather here is something else. It's not bad any way, it is just unpredictable. Walking to work today, my back was sweating, and my front was freezing because of the cold wind and hot sun. Recent events with Dad have made me want to be even more proactive about things, after the initial shock and random sobbing, which has lasted the past week or so. I am currently planning trips to Mozambique and Botswana, and am looking for an orphanage to volunteer with over the weekend.

I've made some friends since being here, such as Thembi, Lungile, and now Charles Murape. Charles is apparently a Zimbabwean soccer player, who has invited me to one of his games. He was one of the few people who talked to me on my way to town and didn't give me a bad vibe. He was polite, and not flirtatious. I figure I might as well go, but will see if Thembi will come with me. I have enough siSwati to say "I have a husband/boyfriend," but still don’t know how to say "I have a boyfriend, and we are monogamous, so please back off."

Work is okay. I'm not absolutely in love with Fundza, but will work the organization until October. It is decent work, and it is helping me to get acquainted with how it is to work in another country. Frustrating, unnerving, and occasionally disheartening, but also a new, occasionally good, rewarding, and enlightening experience. I am having difficulty in bringing myself to eat the "fat cakes" that Nonkululeko buys from the office building next door, even though I walk to and from work every day. They are so tasty. But I feel like I am covered in grease after I eat one, even if I eat it straight from the bag without actually touching it with my hands.

The people in the office we go to for these confectionary lard delights have decided that since I have been here for nearly a month, I need a Swazi name. Which is... drum roll please... Nonfundo. Yes, my Swazi name is "Miss Education." I won't lie, I was hoping for something a bit... cooler. But Nonfundo works for me, and it is easy for me to remember. Remembering siSwati names is not really a strong suit of mine. I have to write a name down to remember it. I've only just managed to memorize the name of the guard who works during the day: Sifiso. It's not a long or difficult name... my brain just has difficulties in wrapping itself around it.

I am still in some stage of culture shock, I'm pretty sure. And I miss John, family, and friends something fierce. But I think I will stay here until I can't any more, or until December. Whichever one comes first. I just have to see what comes my way, and how I feel about everything.

For those of you who are wondering why you haven't heard from me, or what not--I have very limited internet access now--only at work, and that isn't guarenteed. I have some friends from the Embassy (going out to dinner with them tonight) who have offered to let me use their computer, so I might take them up on that. And I will try to get a phone card tomorrow.

That's all for today. I'll try to update with something more interesting in the near future.

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