We've moved to Africa, so we might as well blog about it. We also thought this would be a good way to keep the grandparents from worrying. ("OK, they posted today. Didn't get eaten by hyenas." -Grandma Judy)
Back in October, we drove down to Johannesburg (~30 min) to attend their annual LGBT Pride festival.
I was curious to see how it would be compare to Pride in the
States. Plus, we wanted to support what is likely one of the
few LGBT pride events on the continent, given the anti-gay legislation and repressive tactics seen in other African countries. For bonus points, see this interesting article on homophobia in Africa in the Guardian newspaper, African homophobia has complex roots, and a response, Homophobia in Africa is Not a Single Story. As you may know, SA's post-Apartheid constitution (fully cognizant of what it was replacing) is very progressive and outlaws
discrimination against gay and lesbian people and provides full marriage
rights. We could get married here, but because of DOMA (Defense of Marriage Act) in the US, it would not be recognized when we return home. (See Lambda Legal's legal fight to end DOMA.)
We started at the house of friends who live near the parade route for a
pre-Pride brunch. (Apparently brunch is a pan-gay proclivity.) Here's Adam with Nelesh, who he collaborates with at the National Institute of Communicable Diseases (South Africa's equivalent of the CDC). Adam commutes to JB a few days a week.
During brunch, it was decided that Noah's outfit needed some extra flair. A pink cloth napkin was tied around his neck. Apparently he liked his cape because he wore it proudly the rest of the day. ("Two dads are better than one," I overheard him say to another pre-schooler he met on the parade route.)
The parade was similar to Pride parades in the States. I noticed the majority of folks were white (in a city that has a large black African population but is also still very segregated.) Once we arrived at the park grounds where the parade ended, the crowd seemed a bit more diverse. I had this hopeful thought that this "rainbow nation" would be celebrating together on this rainbow day (the rainbow is often the symbol of gay pride), but there are still many divisions between people here (racial, economic, social, cultural) that will take generations to resolve, even though huge strides have been made since Apartheid was dismantled less than 20 years ago! (1994)
Back in September (Maybe I can catch up to the present day by Super Tuesday? I'd suggest Newt stop spending time on my blog and get out there and campaign. RSA says Gobama.), we loaded up the car and headed east to check out a country with a fun name, Swaziland. We went with our friends, Dalius and Jay (from Seattle, now in Pretoria) and their kids, Vija (age 3 1/2) and Kovas (month older than Noah).
It's actually the Kingdom of Swaziland. (Question: How to make a country sound even better to a five year old? Answer: Add "Kingdom" to the name.)It's to the right of South Africa (ok, east, but RSA surrounds it to the north and south as well) and to the left of Mozambique (west). To give some context, here's a map showing the general route (blue line) we took from Pretoria to Swaziland:
It's a tiny country -- a mere 120 miles tall by 80 miles wide. Even though it's close by (it took us about 4 1/2 hours to drive there), it felt distinctly different from SA -- largely because it's much less developed, but also because it's quite mountainous. While new to us, apparently people have been hanging out there for a long time--since the early stone age--and they've found rock wall art from 25,000 BC up to the 1800s. Click for an cool example.
Foggy Foray
When we crossed the border into Swaziland, I felt like I was in a movie. We had just gotten out of our car twice -- first to get our passports stamped for leaving South Africa and second to get them stamped for entering Swazi. Darkness had descended, we were in unfamiliar territory, and you can imagine how much fun it is getting kids into and out of car seats twice in 20 minutes. The signage at the borders was scarce and we didn't really know what to do. We eventually figured out we had to go to series of windows, where they seemed to ask us one question each and then send us on to the next window. It ended well, and they didn't seem to mind this blabbering white kid (Noah, not me) running back and forth under the lane-divider ropes.
Moments after we entered the country, someone seemed to say "let's screw with the roadtrippers." It started to downpour and the road we were on was blanketed, literally, with fog. Plus, while the highway had beautiful looking street lights, they weren't turned on. So the road was pitch black with a white haze. What took the cake was when Adam attempted to take a conference call with people back at the CDC in Atlanta using his Blackberry... while we're in the car, at night, in Swaziland, in the rain, in dense fog. I was driving 20 MPH with my hazards on in the slow lane. Needless to say, I suggested he (relationship-speak for told him) to reschedule. With time, the rain dissipated and the fog lifted and we got to our hotel, down a dirt road, just over an hour later. Welcome to the Kingdom!
Room service
We stayed at a place called The Forester's Arms which seemed to truly understand tired parents. When we got there around 8, they offered
to send down some food for the kidz and even have a baby sitter watch
them while we ate in the main dining room. (Apparently the cleaning folks babysit in the evenings to
make extra money. This lovely woman showed up 10 minutes after we got them bathed and eating. I practically kissed her.)
Strolling down to breakfast the next morning.
This is one of the first times Noah was willing to hold our hand while walking. In fact, here he appears to only be willing to hold one finger, but it's a start.
After breakfast the kids were in good spirits and we played around the lodge. The kids loved the strange metal playground equipment.
Mr Noah wanted to be like his sister and sit on the big kids swing. (I think he fell off right after this shot. But he fell proudly.)
We drove by the local university.
(While she has time to decide, Lucy said it's between here and Swarthmore.)
The Swazi people are known for their dancing so we went to see a dance performance at a "cultural village." While I'm usually wary of these kinds of things, it was such a high energy affair that it felt quite genuine. Plus, the tickets supported the local economy, which is always good. (Apparently the village was twice the size before Bain & Co. came to see a show.)
The men did a traditional war dance. (It was impressive and it's terrible to say, but all I could think of was that the local T.G.I.Fridays had gone out of business and donated a box full of pleated skirts.)
Noah kept looking for Elmo.
At the end, Lucy and Vija (in pink) got to learn some of the moves.
In return, Adam taught them all how to moon walk.
Home sweet home. Next to the dance stage was a set of traditional Swazi round huts. They let you look inside, and I was a bit surprised to find that people were actually living in them.
We were welcomed to the village by a group of monkeys. They were quite pesky fellows and one actually swiped Lucy's leg with its paw. (The skin was not broken and her fear quickly subsided, thankfully. But Adam put in a check for rabid Swazi monkeys, just to be safe, and found none.)
Later that day, we went to a candle making factory where folks hand carve animals out of wax. (The red animal between 10 o'clock and 12 is a rhino, with his horn sticking up.)
Dalius and Ad survey the terrain.
Another day we drove north, past the capital, Mbane (pronounced "Em-buh-bahn", which we loved to say over and over), to a national park.
Lucy and Vija juice up before we set out for a hike.
We descend into the valley
Who you calling a wuss? You want me to walk all this way?! I'm not even three feet tall!
Lucy's favorite part of the hike was looking at the dung beetles. We found many on the path, pushing
dung, just as their name suggests. It was quite fascinating to watch
them work (talk about shitty pay!) and apparently they're endangered, so
we actively avoided stepping on any.
Here's a short video by someone else of how they work. (We saw them doing exactly this.)
Breaktime.
Jay and Kovas enjoy some down time.
The Cohen-Frankels forage for peanut butter granola bars.
How you get your kids to hike.
Lucy later tells me Jelly Beans aren't going to cut it any longer. Next time, she wants chocolate.
The other Swazi Royal Family
That girl is getting good with the Frisbee.
Lucy said I look tired and volunteers to drive home. Noah concurs and wants to get home to weave a small basket out of the grass he's collected.
Back near where we were staying was a cool artist workshop and bar/music venue called House on Fire. One of the artists shows the girls how he does his work.
Lucy takes in the artsy vibe.
I'm struck by the glimpse this picture seems to give of what Lucy will look like as an adult. (This is the girl we bathed in a tub the size of a cutting board when she was first born. OK, I'll stop being so sentimental.)
On the other hand, Noah wouldn't sit still for 10 seconds and
thought the artist tools would be fun to chew on.
(Those are 5 foot tall Aloe plants behind him, by the way. Good placement in case someone gets a little too close to the smelter.)
We were stuck by how many different kinds of crafts and products the Swazi people make. Before we headed home, we visited a glass factory that's famous for making these asymmetrical wine glasses. Here's a picture (not mine):
You can walk into the factory and watch the folks work. (It was crazy hot in there.)
Soon we headed to our car and on to the border crossing between the Kingdom and the Republic. Noah lost one of his Crocs at the immigration checkpoint, so we arrived home with a clean set of wine glasses and a filthy right foot (with attached child). A bath and then to bed, the Safari was tuckered out.
