Lomahasha
The next stop in Swaziland was Lomahasha—I’m staying with Sabelo’s extended family. Lomahasha is the most rural village that I’ve stayed in thus far. A few houses have scarce electricity and running water, but most do not. And hot running water is definitely out of the question. The first Mashwama family that I stayed with had three children, a little girl, Temashinga, a little boy, Banele, and a three-week-old infant—whose name I have no idea how to write. The father (Clement) of the family who worked about 4 hours away and only came home on some weekends is one of Sabelo’s brothers. The mother (Cebile) of the family is a very sweet women who has her hands full raising three kids and taking care of their homestead. One the homestead they had a “guest house” which was generally for Sabelo to stay in when he visits since he helps them out with building costs. It was a round hut with a thatched grass roof. There was one light—which was all that was needed, but no running water. The pic below is me, Cebile, Temashinga, and Banele (and the dog) (and my room is the room hut to the right).
I’ll let you all know right now that bucket baths are not much fun—or at least I’m not very good at taking them, and I have way too much hair. The first time I ran out of the hot water that I had to boil prior to the bath before I had even gotten all the shampoo out of my hair. And since the temperature in Swaziland in winter can change drastically between day and night, it was not such a good idea to bathe (with mostly cold water) and then go to bed soon after. Now I can see why most people in the village have very short hair or wear a scarf and only rarely wash their hair—it’s such a pain in the butt. If I lived here, I don’t think it would take me long to shave my head or get dreadlocks. The second (and last) time I tried a bucket bath I did a bit better. I didn’t run out of hot water, but it still took a bloody long time. 
Temashinga and Banele kept me great company. Banele doesn’t speak much English—he’s only four, but Temashinga speaks quite well for a six year old. Temashinga is paralyzed from the waist down. She has a rickety wheelchair, but mostly just scoots around on her bum and sits on the floor. You can just see how much Banele looks up to her, follows her around most places, and fetches her wheelchair. Temashinga gets around quite well though. She read stories to me and then translated them for me, and then we all had a dance party. They may not have a computer or much in the way of technology—but these kids know about Lady Gaga, and that’s what they kept asking for. I’ll try to attach a video to the blog (the internet connection I’ve been able to get on here is super slow and takes forever to upload anything—so I may just upload it to facebook once I return). 
Temashinga kept calling me mommy and asking me to take her with me. To look her in the face and tell her that I couldn’t take her was so hard. But she does have a mother and father who love her very much. Though I’ve already begun working on ways to keep in touch with them and send them things they need.
I also spent a fair amount of time with Bongani, the fieldworker for the Lomahasha Egumeni. The Lomahasha group is pretty big, with nearly 20 grannies participating. He seems to work tirelessly, while his wife heads up the orphanage that is run out of the same church, and that feeds nearly 30 children a day during the week. Bongani and I spoke a lot and in fact stayed up very late one night talking about everything from our families and universal human experiences regardless of geographical location and status—to the everyday business of Egumeni, the successes, drawbacks, and struggles. Funding is an ongoing issue just about everywhere—there is not a shortage of motivated and capable people, but with such limited funding, it makes it hard to get anything accomplished, and even less accomplished that can be sustainable in the long term.
There were also two Peace Corps volunteers staying in Lomahasha—Erica and Jason, a young married couple. They both grew up in New Jersey, and Jason went to undergrad at Harvard—it was nice to have someone to talk to for a little while about home. Their tour is almost over, I think they finish right around the time I head back to the states. They were wonderful to hang out with and we’ll hopefully meet up back in the states.
Jason, Naomi (the younger daughter of the other Mashwama family I stayed with), and I hiked the mountain that is on the edge of Lomahasha. At the top of the mountain is where the borders of Swaziland, South Africa, and Mozambique meet. It’s not a very large mountain—maybe an hour and a half/two hour climb up. The chief of the village has a small community that lives near the top with him. Just behind us on the climb were two women, both carrying children on their backs, and big things on their heads—and they stayed just behind us the whole time. It was incredible watching them—how gracefully and steadily they were able to walk the entire way. 
At the top, on the Mozambican side of the border, there is a border post patrolled by military. They are not to be messed with—so once we climbed to the top, we took turns climbing the pile of rocks that marks the intersection—and then quickly got down. The top gave beautiful views in all directions—and it was awesome to see the borders of these three countries stretch out in all directions—with no-man’s land in between two lines of fencing. Above: Swaziland on left, South Africa on right. Below, me on top of
the intersection of three countries!
