Category: Reflections

​Everyone has a part of the story 

by Kirby P., posted in Peace Corps Swaziland, Reflections

During our first three months in Swaziland, we had all kinds of training. There was technical training and language training. There was training about the history and culture of Swaziland. There was probably more training that I have since forgotten. 
One of the things that I haven’t forgotten is a session in which we watched Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s TED talk about the danger of a single story. 

My story is, indeed, a single story. It is one of many. A single, personal view of a complex world. During this session, our training manager advised us not to perpetuate the single story of Africa being a singular, homogenous experience, culture, and people. After all, Swaziland is only a piece of Africa. And even in the kingdom of Swaziland, there are varied cultures and experiences among 1.2 million Swazis. In the spirit of promoting multiple varied stories and viewpoints, I would like to share some of my favorite blog posts from PCVs around the globe. 

This post was inspired by Nicole, also in Swaziland, who also wrote about the danger of a single story. I have been inspired by Alexa discussing the gifts from the garden in Uganda. Alison captured the magic and mystery of Swazi greetings and praise names. There is Abbie’s insightful look into things that are uniquely Moroccan. Ally listed common phrases that are heard throughout Swaziland, but would be unusual in America. I read about April’s language challenges in Kosovo, and was comforted by a shared struggle. Recently, Nate explored what the first day of school looks like in Swaziland. Nathalie shared the things that she’s learned in her first six months as a PCV in Swaziland. Faith, in Tanzania, compiled many memes about serving as a volunteer of color. 

Feel free to link to some of your favorite PCV blog posts in the comments.

Be kind to yourself. 
Onward. 

Follow What is Kirby Doing? on WordPress.com

Reflections from Madagascar

by Kirby P., posted in Peace Corps Swaziland, Reflections

Recently, I vacationed in Madagascar to celebrate the New Year. Here are five quick reflections from Madagascar

  1. ​Yes, I went all the way to Madagascar and managed not to see one lemur. I didn’t make it to any of the national parks. I guess I have a reason to return, in addition to the beach and tasty stuff. A day on the beach is never wasted. 
  2. Speaking French could be  an (unofficial) prerequisite of visiting the island nation. There are two languages: French and Malagasy. English isn’t spoken with any regularity.  Luckily, a few people who did speak English were there to help me when I needed it. I’m extremely grateful to these language champions! (Side note: After speaking and hearing so much siSwati for the past six and a half months, I found myself greeting and responding in siSwati. Yebo babe would be uttered only to realize that I meant to say Bonjour Monsieur.)
  3. Madagascar is big. It’s the fourth largest island in the world. Navigating the island takes considerable time. I traveled on a taxi-brousse (intercity public transport) from Antananarivo to Tamatave. The journey of about 320 kilometers lasted 8 hours on relatively good roads. 
  4. The food was quite delightful. I enjoyed delicious seafood from traditional restaurants and traditional Malagasy hotelys. I sat in an ice cream parlour and had some peach ice cream that made my taste buds say “thank you”. I was fortunate to try several natural juices. I’m happy to report that they were all refreshing and delicious. There was even good Mexican food at a hostel in the capital. 
  5. During my trip, I was fortunate to meet some PCVs currently serving in Madagascar. They were all wonderful folks. We shared laughs, played games, and ate good food together. I learned that while the Peace Corps experience has some similarities wherever you go, it is just as unique the people who serve. 

Be kind to yourself. 
Onward. 

​Umlungu myama – What They Call Me, Part Two

by Kirby P., posted in Peace Corps Swaziland, Reflections

Last week, I started delving into what people call me and how I am addressed here in Swaziland. You can check out that post here. 

On more than a few occasions, people have questioned where I am from. When I respond that I am from Washington, DC, sometimes, I’m asked from which country (in Africa) my family and I originated. I’ve been told, by various folks in Swaziland, that I must be from Nigeria. I’ve also heard that I am Swazi. I’ve also been told that I from various other places. When I respond that I don’t know where our African origins lie, folks look closer to try to figure out where I am from. Some tell me that I couldn’t be from America. 

This typically leads to conversations about race and diversity in America. For some people who aren’t unaware of the presence of Black people in America, they may refer to me as umlungu myama (pronounced om-loon-goo mm-ya-ma). I was initially told that this means Black American. It was surprising to learn this because myama means black and umlungu means white person. When I first heard the term, I was confused as to how I could be a Black white person. Umlungu has since been clarified to also mean boss or foreigner. Umlungu myama makes a bit more sense, as one gentleman still thinks that I am of Nigerian origin.  In that sense, umlungu myama would mean Black foreigner. I’ve also heard Swazis use the term when describing me in siSwati to someone else. 

In the rarest of occasions, I’ve been referred to as umlungu, without myama. The person shouting in this instance is typically a young man trying to sell me something. I tend to ignore these instances, especially since it usually happens in a big city centre that I don’t frequent. Some things aren’t worth the bother. 

Be kind to yourself. 
Onward. 

Follow What is Kirby Doing? on WordPress.com

​Yebo babe! – What They Call Me, Part One 

by Kirby P., posted in Peace Corps Swaziland, Reflections

While speaking with an American here in Swaziland, we were discussing the various ways that I am addressed and how certain greetings are used. I have been called different things by different people around Swaziland. Very rarely do I hear my given American name, Kirby. Most often, I hear my given Swazi name, Sibusiso (pronounced see-boo-see-sew). 

I’ve been greeted by men, young and old, who say, mnaketfu (pronounced umm-na-gate-foo), or my brother. Sometimes, I’m called bhuti (pronounced boo-tee), or brother. These two greetings are interchangeable. 

School children and some others around my community and Swaziland refer to me as babe (pronounced bah-bay), or father. This term is also used when addressing married men. While I have not been married or fathered any children, I’m still referred to as babe. I’ve found that when I greet a woman as make (pronounced mah-gay), or mother, she almost always refers to me as babe. I suspect that this is due to the greeter seeing that I appear to be of marrying, fathering age, and not wanting to be disrespectful. This tends to remain true even if the greeter knows that I am unmarried and childless. Respect is huge here in Swaziland. 

There have been some occasions when I have been referred to as mkhulu (pronounced mmm-koo-loo), or grandfather. When I hear this, I chuckle to myself. This has happened most with young children (maybe 3-5 years old). Maybe they see the wisdom bursting through in my salt and pepper hair. 

More rarely, I’m referred to as malume (pronounced ma-loo-may), or uncle, by transport conductors or teenaged folks in the community. I tend to hear this most when taking transport or around the bus rank. Then, there are a few men around my community who always say umbebenene (pronounced oom-bay-bay-nay-nay), or big beard, when they see me. I wasn’t sure if they were talking to me or talking about me. It doesn’t matter. My beard and I now see this as mere appreciation of the massive facial follicles. 

There are probably other things that people call me that I haven’t realized yet. I reckon that one day I’ll know the nuances of what I’m called here in Swaziland. 

Be kind to yourself. 
Onward. 

P.S. – Yebo babe (pronounced yea-bow bah-bay) is a greeting that I hear, and use, often. The direct translation is ‘yes father’, and it is a simple acknowledgment of a man you see.

Sweet Dreams – Vacations, Dinner, and Shopping

by Kirby P., posted in Peace Corps Swaziland, Reflections, Sweet Dreams

Because I am posted in a country where I might contract malaria, I have been given an antimalarial medication called, “Mefloquine”. One of the side effects of this medication is lucid dreaming. The following is what I dreamt last night (as best I can remember). 

I had just gotten back from a vacation. It was a birthday vacation. This was right around Thanksgiving. 

One of my aunts and several of other family members were all having dinner with me at this restaurant in the mall. It was a nice sit down place. I ordered the pork loin roast appetizer to share. It had some citrus to it. It was delicious. I was so full. My aunt tried to make sure that I had the last piece. I said thank you, and just looked at the last piece of pork loin on the plate. I don’t rememberThis was Thanksgiving. 

After eating, we walked around the mall. I was with a very pregnant woman. We were in some kind of store that had clothes and other things. I remember looking at things, thinking “hmmmm, I should get this. But I don’t really want it.” I decided that I should spend this currency that I got while on vacation. But they don’t take currency from the Bahamas here. I take out a five dollar US coin and ask the guy in the downstairs window if they’ll take it. He said that they have to see how much it’s worth. I just wait for him to come back.  

He returns. I can get an opened pack of long stem unscented candles for my five dollar US coin. No change. The price on the candles is $3.25. Some other woman sees the pregnant woman looking at baby clothes in the racks. The woman said, “oh wow, you’re really pregnant.” Pregnant woman responds that yeah, she is. She’s due any second now. But the baby probably won’t come right now because the baby is sleeping right now. The pregnant woman keeps shopping. I look at my newly purchased candles. 

Be kind to yourself.
Onward.

Stage Fright

by Kirby P., posted in Peace Corps Swaziland, Reflections

​One of the things that has been required of us, as Peace Corps volunteers in Swaziland, is ongoing language learning. This makes perfect sense to me. As we learn more about Swazi culture and start to understand it better, language is key. 

I have found an amazing language tutor who is patient enough to answer my “but why is like this instead of like this” questions, and stern enough to correct me when I’m wrong (repeatedly). 

If I were to do an honest self-assessment, I’d say that my language skills have definitely improved since ending our pre-service training (albeit in miniscule increments). My language skills have improved dramatically since coming to Swaziland almost five months ago. At this point in my language learning, I’m able to semi-confidently hold a conversation with a preschooler. I’m proud of this. I want to be able to confidently have intense conversations with peers and boMkhulu (pronounced bo-mmm-koo-loo) or elder men/grandfathers in the community. I want to be able to understand jokes and be sarcastic in siSwati. I want to understand what folks are asking for when they come to my homestead. I would like to go a day without speaking English, but not be silent. My host make (pronounced mah-gay), or mom, recently told me that next year, no English will be spoken. SiSwati only. Of note: she told me when I first arrived that I must speak siSwati. “Sibusiso, you’re not in America anymore. We speak siSwati here.” 

I think I’ve identified what one of the bigger barriers is for me currently. Stage fright. My receptive language is definitely getting better. I can understand some of what’s said in small talk conversations on khombis (local mass transport vans). My expressive language is where my stage fright is the star of the show. I start to wonder if I actually heard what I thought I heard. Do I have the language to respond to that? Do I have enough vocabulary to keep the conversation going? Do I just want to use the fail safe phrase? Angiva (pronounced ah-knee-va), or I don’t understand. I guess the only way to overcome it is to keep practicing and understanding that failing doesn’t mean failure. After all, winning the World Series is impossible if you never step up to the plate and take a swing. 

Be kind to yourself. 
Onward. 

P.S. – Did you know that @whatisKirbydoing is an Instagram handle? Be sure to follow the fun. 

On the outside, looking in

by Kirby P., posted in Reflections

​The year was 2011. I had purchased a roundtrip ticket from Washington, DC to Cape Town, South Africa. I would be vacationing in southern Africa for almost a month. I wanted to do all there was to do, and see all there was to see. While crossing a border (either from Mozambique to Swaziland, or Swaziland to South Africa), I started talking with one of the other passengers on the bus as we waited for everyone to clear customs and immigration. He asked me where I was from and if this was my first time in Africa. I told him that it was my first time, and that I lived in DC. He, a Mozambican  working in South Africa, went on to ask me how Africa was treating me. I let him know that I was enjoying my time and that everyone had been very welcoming and kind. His response has stayed with me, and probably will forever. He expressed happiness that Africa had been so welcoming. He told me that I was always welcome here, and that any family or friends would welcomed just as warmly across the continent. Wow! 

Fast forward to now. October 2016. I live in southern Africa. In Swaziland, on the border with South Africa. I have been asked family, friends, and locals if I’m scared, or worried, being so far away from home. I’m not. When I actually reflect on the state of affairs around the globe (especially in the US), I’m actually worried to return to the US. I’m a burly, bearded 30-something Black man, and I have feared and would fear for my safety in various parts of the US much more than here in Swaziland. 

Last year, as riots filled the streets of Baltimore (a 40 minute drive north of DC), I watched news coverage from my living room. People were fed up with another Black man dying at the hands of law enforcement officers. That evening, I received a text message from my brother saying, “Stay safe. It’s only a matter of time before the revolution makes down there (to DC).” Since I left the US in June, there have been even more Black people to die at the hands of law enforcement. There aren’t the same massive protests that seemed commonplace even a year ago when Black people were killed by law enforcement. I doubt that the protests can keep up with the shootings. As I write this, I think about that text message from my brother. I think about sending him a similar message. It’s a strange dichotomy. Some family and friends fear for my safety here in Swaziland, while I have similar fears for their respective safety across the US. 

In contrast to the many law enforcement shootings at home, I feel really safe, warm, and welcomed here in Swaziland. This is the country that has been called one of the friendliest in Africa. I’ve only seen one police officer with a firearm, and that was weird to see. The biggest fear of crime against me that I have here is being robbed or having something stolen, which is miniscule compared to my worries about speaking siSwati more fluently and being understood. 

Be kind to yourself.
Onward.