http://tinyurl.com/y8s5zlpn

 

 

 

 

 

C

 

Good morning

 

 

https://goo.gl/iZP554

 

 

https://goo.gl/5Zd758

 

 

 

C

Virginia’s Lobola – It’s All About Food

Some time back -- I refuse to admit how long ago -- I began the story of my friend Virginia Dlamini Akintola's lobola (wedding dowry) event, which was held last June. Unfortunately, I only managed to post a description of some of the pre-day preparations before I got busy/lazy then the Internet connection on campus failed. So here's some more of the rest of the story. These sections will describe the food preparations, as Sharon, her friend Phindi and I were asked to help with the catering.

The next several groups of photos illustrate the intensive efforts made by many friends and family members to prepare for this event. Some of the cooking started the day before, but the bulk of the preparations were done on the actual day. We started early in the morning, and you can see from the hat and jacket I'm wearing that it was chilly at first. The kitchen warmed up, though, once the stove got going. I think we were finished cooking and ready to serve the meal by around 2:00 p.m.

We made food for approximately 300 people, about half of them invited guests and the rest locals who stopped by for a meal. In fact, Virginia had been forewarned by the community feeding center that it would advise the locals to visit her lobola for their daily meal. (Most poor areas have a community facility at which volunteers cook and serve donated food to the many orphans, un or under-employed, and otherwise disadvantaged people.) So we had to plan to feed as many folks as showed up.

We were given an empty outbuilding to use as a kitchen; it was outfitted with a propane range and a couple work tables. Other prep work (endless chopping for stews and salads) went on outside, as did additional cooking.

Virginia's Lobola -- food preparation, outside

The traditional way to cook large-crowd staples such as stews, rice, pap (cornmeal mush) and samp (cracked corn, which is usually mixed with sugar beans) at big events is in giant 3-legged cast-iron pots over a wood fire. Such cooking is not easy, as one must start and tend the fires, plus monitor and stir the pots. Then, once the food is cooked, one has to somehow wash those monstrously heavy pots, usually without the aid of hot running water. I wasn't involved with the outside pots at this event (Virginia requested that I prepare beef stroganoff inside the make-shift kitchen). However, I helped to cater a wedding at a later date, and ended up in charge of finding kindling for the fire and stirring the samp as I sunburned in the summer sun.

Other meat is grilled on the braai (barbecued); as in the U.S., that task seems the only cooking activity engaged in by men. Virginia and her husband Abiola purchased a whole cow for the lobola. There may also have been some chicken and I know there was goat stew(a tasty Nigerian delicacy). There was so much meat that many people ate their fill then carried home enough for the next day or two -- a sure sign of a successful event. Unfortunately, I don't think the eager crowd left much, if anything, for Virginia and her immediate family.

Virginia's Lobola -- food service, continued

As the various salads, vegetables, side dishes and stews were finished, they were transferred from the giant pots to bowls and metal pans, which were then carried into the main house to await the dinner service. The food was served two ways – a buffet line featuring all the different dishes was set up for the lobola’s official guests, while a more basic meal of pap or rice, vegetables and stew (maybe some braai as well) was served into styrofoam take-away containers for the long line of hungry locals who dropped by.

New entries, at last

First of all, if anyone has been reading this, I apologize for the lack of entries this fall. One excuse I have is that I've been sick a lot; another reason for the lack of communication is that there’s not so much new to report. Life in the second year of a fellowship takes on a familiar and thus somewhat boring routine. For work, I’ve been teaching my classes – the News Reporting class again for JMC and one section of ACS (Academic Communication Skills – freshman English/composition), plus some practice sessions for Virginia’s grammar class. In my spare time, I’ve been trying to organize a couple workshops for the teacher training colleges, which is surprisingly and frustratingly difficult considering that we’re not charging the colleges a single emalangeni to come and teach their students useful methodologies. Unfortunately, while the lecturers (at least some of them) are enthusiastic about the opportunity, the college administrators seem to think these events will somehow involve effort on their parts, the prospect of which they adamantly oppose. This is definitely a place where people rise to their level of incompetence.

In my personal time, I watch TV, workout, take walks and talk to myself a lot (which I suppose begs the question of why I don’t take the time to write more blogs). Oh, and of course, I eat, which is why I must workout and take frequent walks. Living on campus is secure and convenient, but it also makes it easy to get into a rut of just going to work then coming home every day. Sometimes I go a week or so without visiting the outside world.

Anyway, as I haven’t a lot of new, exciting events to describe, I’ll go back and tell about some of the things that happened last spring.

Virginia's Lobola -- part 1

Although Virginia and her husband Abiola have been married for about six years, they decided to hold the traditional lobola ceremony to cement the ties between their families. They chose the end of June, which meant I was able to attend before heading off on my summer break. About a week before the event, Virginia suggested that I acquire some more traditional attire for the occasion, so I went along with her to the tailor. Virgina was having a couple different garments made – she needed a traditional Swazi outfit to satisfy Swazi custom and a traditional Nigerian outfit to honor her husband’s family. I bought some of the blue and white fabric that’s pre-printed into panels from which to make a skirt. Traditional Swazi women wear skirts or dresses; in fact, wearing pants is considered improper, even slutty, and their are gangs of self-righteous traditional males who sometimes harass women (even foreigners) caught in slacks. Most rural women sport a uniform-like pinafore which often includes a built-in apron and ruffles around the sleeves and hem. I asked for a very simple, long skirt and was satisfied with the result.

In the week before the lobola, I also ran some errands with Virginia to fetch supplies to sustain the many guests who would be converging for the 2-day event and to deliver said items to the family homestead. We purchased fresh milk and mas (sour milk) from a local self-sustaining convent, acquired copious quantities of sweet potatoes, pineapples and paw paws from the farmer’s market, and arranged the purchase of an entire cow to ensure adequate supplies of meat (Swazis are insulted by small servings of meat).

The pictures included here include a couple at the tailor’s and from the convent where we bought the milk products (I loved the old wood stove there).

Virginia's Lobola, part 2

The pictures here are from the family homestead. You can see that Virginia’s mother is wearing a very simple version of the pinafore (combined with other, mismatched colors that oddly mimic what I’m wearing at the tailor’s – hmm). The building she is posing in front of was built by her long-dead husband and is falling down, but she won’t allow Virginia to demolish it; too many memories. The snazzy, stuccoed building shown is the new house Virginia and Abiola have built for her.

More on Umhlanga (please start w/ first entry)

Dear Reader:

I realize I should have posted these entries in reverse order so that they could be read from top to bottom. However, I didn't think that far ahead, so if you haven't already read the first Umhlanga 2009 entry, please scroll down and work your way back to the top.

The official estimates, which may be inflated, declared that some 80,000 maidens participated in Umhlanga this year, most travelling from rural areas by public transport or by government-provided buses and kombis. The government also provides barracks-style housing and food for thousands of participants, which makes me wonder what the whole event ends up costing. Most urban Swazis I’ve spoken with don’t attend the events although they may watch it on TV, and most don’t seem to let their daughters participate. I was told by one such person that the rural girls just come for the free meals, as many are OVCs (orphans & vulnerable children) who live in near-perpetual hunger. I’m sure other girls participate for the chance to travel out of their villages (and, probably, to meet boys, although the girls must be “certified virgins” to participate). Certainly there were many young and not-so-young men roaming around the fairground. And according to one local newspaper columnist, Umhlanga girls are renowned as easy picking for sexual predators.

The government also estimated that nearly 30,000 tourists travelled to Swaziland during, and presumably to attend, the Reed Dance festivities. I doubt that I saw more than a hundred or so obvious tourists on the day I went (meaning white folks with lots of cameras although those with the fanciest cameras were likely the press).

Once the reeds were deposited, the long lines of girls moved on to the parade field and began to snake their way around with each group again singing and dancing for the crowd of royals and spectators. There was also a group of official singers who sang the same song with gusto over and over (and slightly off key). The king and his entourage eventually came out and ran among the girls to inspect, or perhaps, to honor them, as photographers madly rushed behind.

More Umhlanga 2009

The process of lining up and waiting and singing and dancing in place and marching took the thousands of participants a number of hours. So, of course, there were vendors around to sell needed cold beverages and food (after days of chilly temperatures, the weather had turned quite hot). At the end of the line, each girl finally handed over her bundle of reeds to be added to the ceremonial stack.

Umhlanga 2009

This year, I attended the Reed Dance ceremonies on the first official day (Aug. 30. On that day, the girls ceremoniously lay bundles of reeds against the royal krall (corral) at Lobamba. They gathered these reeds a few days earlier in specified areas, and the material supposedly will be used to repair and maintain the Queen Mother's residence.

The pictures here are mostly of some of the girls gathered and waiting for their turns to present their reeds. I enjoyed wandering around with my cameras and found the participants generally accepting of having their photos taken. Some, especially the young men, even insisted. The young man pictured here was chagrined, after seeing the image, to notice that he had a chip bag stuck in his armband. But he was still pleased to have his photo taken and even offered to marry me (he'd had a bit to drink).

Kruger -- part 3

On the second day, we were treated to several big cat sightings. We even saw a cheetah, and they’re very rare (perhaps less than a hundred in the whole park). Somewhat surreally, we encountered that animal on a tarmac bridge. It came right out and meandered among the vehicles, which of course had all stopped. In fact, I saw quite a few illegal arms and heads out of windows as people tried to see past the car ahead or to get a photo. We were parked quite a ways back down the bridge (we joined this scene a bit late as at first we thought people were just hippo-watching); thus, we didn’t get a good glimpse of the cheetah until it exited the roadway and climbed up a bank. Then we saw it clearly. Not long after our cheetah encounter, we saw two lions swimming across a stream – another rare sight although a bit distant. After that we headed back to the dead rhino site to see if the lions were more visible. They were, if one could make it through the parking cluster and get close enough to see. As the lions had now been in this area for a couple days, it was so well known that the small parking area was mobbed. Marjorie somehow shoehorned her Lexus into a spot from which we could see (I got a photo showing both the male lion and the rhino). Then we got out of there quickly before more vehicles could squeeze in and trap us there.

That day, there were quite a few elephants near the road. Some were not pleased at being gawked at and hemmed in by large noisy vehicles. Once one of them charged our vehicle, I realized that possibility was why Marjorie always left an open lane between us and any elephant. Other drivers would pull up and stop much closer which gave them little room to maneuver for a quick escape.

Kruger Park – part 2

Despite the uncivilized behavior of a few drivers too much in a hurry to share the roadway with a slow-moving kudu, most folks prowling the park roadways are on the same mission – to find and enjoy viewing the wildlife. Thus, most are happy to share information on where and what they’ve recently seen. To aid in that effort, each entrance gate or rest camp area features a map on which one can stick colored dots to indicate species spotted at a particular location. So, when entering the park, you can find out where a leopard or lion or herd of buffalo was last seen.

On the first day, when leaving Ntandanyathi Hide, we were told of several lions feeding on a rhino kill not far past Lower Sabie rest camp. We knew that would be a good viewing bet, as the cats wouldn’t be likely to quickly abandon such a large food source. So we headed to the camp where we ate a picnic lunch Marjorie had packed (she’s very organized); then, we set out to find the lions. By the time we arrived, in mid afternoon, the two big cats had finished feeding for the day and were napping in the tall grass. I only managed to identify one when it twitched its tail although I assured Marjorie that I could see both of them perfectly well. Unfortunately, what I could see perfectly was the dead rhino, which had clearly been poached. The poor thing was still posed upright, having fallen to its knees, and was intact save for a huge gouge in its face where the horn had been cut out. Slightly behind the rhino and in the water was a dead hippo ignominiously positioned on its back with its stubby legs poking up. It must have charged or somehow disturbed the poachers as they went about mutilating the rhino corpse – certainly there was no reason otherwise to kill a hippo. The whole sight was rather sickening and cast a pall over the afternoon.

At the end of the day, on our way out of the park, we saw a small herd of water buffalo, including one big bull that stood belligerently in the road for quite some time. We also, on a much smaller scale, were thrilled to see an ambitious dung beetle rolling its giant ball of poop across the road and back. The park’s opening hours depend on available daylight – in fall it closes at 5:30. So we were out by 5 pm and heading for a nearby guesthouse (Marjorie had only managed to book us within the park for one of the two nights). Our accommodation, Buckley’s Africa, was first class, which I expected as the place had been recommended by the ambassador. Of course, it was a little out of my usual price range, but I could handle it for one night. The setting of this guesthouse is beautiful – right on the river. It would be the perfect place for a romantic getaway (sigh). It also provided a lovely breakfast in the morning, which got us off to a slightly later start than we’d intended.

Kruger Park – part 1

I had the opportunity to ride along to Kruger Park with Marjorie from the embassy and her friend Allison. Both are Kruger fanatics and like nothing better than to take off and head for the park on a free weekend. April 18-20 was a three day weekend, as Monday was a public holiday for the king’s birthday. We set off from Marjorie’s place in Mbabane around 7:30 am and arrived at the park I think around 10 am. Other than freezing from the air-conditioning in Marjorie’s Lexus (despite having worn two pairs of socks, two shirts and a jacket in preparation), it was a pleasant enough ride. And I always appreciate NOT being the driver.

Our first day in the park was quite productive. I was amazed at how adept Marjorie was at spotting animals. Even though she was driving, she still managed to spot more creatures than either Allison or I (admittedly, I was abysmal at it). Sometimes, I never did manage to see what she was insistently pointing out. I soon learned, however, just to say that I had seen whatever it was, as she would keep after me, trying to describe the location, until I claimed to have seen the distant creature.

Soon after entering, we stopped at Ntandanyathi Hide – one of the few places other than a rest camp where people can leave their vehicles. In fact, along the roadway, you can be fined for even sticking your arm or head out a window. I suppose, with lions, elephants and hippos around, caution must be more than just advised. From benches in the rough wooden shelter there, we looked out over a watering hole and saw elephants, crocodiles, hippos, assorted birds, and nearby, a small herd of zebra. I could have sat there watching for hours, but we had to move on.

Regarding the photos -- The pic of two elephants was taken at the hide, while all others were taken from the road. Do note that I don't have a camera with a long telephoto lens. My basic Canon digital has only a 4X optical zoom, which means that animals which appear to be quite close really were! I tried to get a video of the line of cars following the two giraffes -- they strolled along ahead of us for at least a couple of minutes -- but it didn't turn out. Another of the parkk rules is to always give animals the right of way. Unfortunately, we did encounter a few motorists over the three days who didn't respect that rule and who honked their horns obnoxiously or even refused to stop the car and drove right through groups of animals to get them to move. Jerks are everywhere (but why come to a park if you don't want to watch the animals?).