Next, we helped Make Fikile Dube with the cooking. She had already cut all of the butternut squash so we had to fetch a huge,black, heavy, caste iron pot. Thought it was the smallest pot they had, it was so heavy we had to carry it with a wheelbarrow. They girls took some hot coals from the fire and began a small fire on the ground using the fire wood that each child brings daily. (It’s a great concept that is unique to the Moneni carepoint. The teachers tell the children that everyone must contribute,- not just eat without “working” so each child arrives with a piece of fire wood they found along the way. It might only be a small twig from the itty-bitty children, but it adds to the firewood pile nonetheless.)
Then they take 3 pieces of broken cinder block and make a triangle around the fire to place the legs of the pot and fill the pot with squash and water to cook!
The girls taught me some games that they play to pass the time. I’m not sure what all of the songs were about, but they were fun. There was a game where you sing and pass rocks, and lots of hand clapping games, but different from how we play in the states. So I was able to teach them the American version as well. The songs are very telling about the culture. One was:
“There’s a party on the corner,
will you please, please come,
with your own cup and saucer
and your own chewing gum…”
Yeah I guess most families here wouldn’t have the capability of having enough dishes to host a party.
Another song was all in Siswati. Tholakele told me it was about meeting someone and getting married. I could see the story progressing with the dancing. One side would sing about love, and the other person would deny them. And then the first person would “cry” and then the second person would accept them and you and your partner would dance in a do-si-do. “We’re married now!” Nelly told me. But then you laugh and cheer and leave your first spouse, to go and dance with another spouse. Uh-oh! That’s telling.
By that time it was time to “take tea” but we had no bread. “Auntie, will you come with us to buy bread?” Tholakele asked.
I was up for it. The store next door was closed because the people wanted to go to church (?) so we had to walk to the shell station down the street.
WE walked on a foot path through the community over rocks and broken glass. “Sisi, where are your shoes?!” I asked Tholakele when I noticed she was barefoot! She burst out laughing at me. “Oh, Auntie. These are traditional shoes.” She’s a funny girl.
We bought bread, and I got a pack of gum for us to share, which they thought was very special. We walked home as they attempted to teach me Siswati and came upon some teen age boys singing a song for me. They girls all laughed and told me they were singing, “Hey, I see an American.” Too funny.
We returned and had tea. It’s cute to see how the girls took the hostess role so seriously. You would think you are were at someone’s richie house drinking from china tea cups with proper biscuits or crumpets, not just sitting on cinderblocks drinking from plastic mugs and eating white bread with mango jam. But I was honored by their efforts to make it nice for me.
Shortly afterwards the squash was done cooking. “Auntie, would you like to help too? We’ll teach you.”
Teach me what?
Well life without slotted spoons is rough too. To remove the squash from the cooking pot you have to dip your fingers into cold water and then quickly snatch out as many pieces as you could before burning your fingers. This became a game in and of itself, where each girl would grab quickly, her turn ending by a distinct yelp of burning fingers, where as the rest of the girls would burst into a giggling fit. It wasn’t bad until you got to the bottom pieces where the remains of the hot water sat.
Tholakele told me that Swazis drink the hot water at the bottom of the vegetable pot because it’s rich in nutrients and keeps you strong. I think in the states it’s called pot-liquor, but here it’s called Nkovi (sp?)
I also asked them how Swazi learn to carry things on their heads. I’ve seen them carry everything from firewood, to bags of oranges, to furniture on their heads. They said their mothers teach them young and you have to practice daily with a bucket of water or sand. So I began my training with some wood. Well actually this is a Swazi broom made from a bundle of sticks but it was light and I did a pretty good job.