Super fast background info:
41; The average life expectancy
26 - 40%; population infected with H.I.V
69% : Population living on less than $1 per day.
20% : Unemployment, although sources suggest much higher.
77% : population living in rural areas.
Swaziland is a former British protectorate, now ruled by an Absolute Monarchy. By that, I mean that the Kings' word is LAW. Political parties are banned and the suppression of terrorism act means that if you hack-off an official, they can accuse you of terrorism and arrest you. You may never leave prison; you might die first. The King is very wealthy and is able to keep his 14 wives in sumptuous conditions while his people starve. Lovely.
Today I awoke at a quarter to three. It seems early, but thanks to working as a Marine Officer at MMO, I am fairly used to getting up in the wee hours for work. We flew to Johannesburg and then on to Manzini. A tiny plane, flying over rust red mountains and snaking yellow paths.
It is hot here, very hot.
On arrival in Swaziland, the first thing I noticed was the smell of the heat, of warm earth and scented air. The second thing I noticed was that my suitcase was not at the airport. Yes ladies and gents, my bag is not with me and I have no idea where it is! I spoke to the guys at the airport who asked me lots of questions about it and twelve hours on, still no sign. I am hopeful that it will arrive and I will have something clean to wear at some point. I was savvy enough to pack a little stuff in my flight bag, but despite protests that I didn't really need to buy anything, a couple of us went into town. I'm glad I did! Wow. The trip into town was amazing; such hustle and bustle, such a marked difference in the cost of things. I bought a really beautiful skirt for a fiver, but I'm not sure yet if what I paid is a lot here. I think it will be. It was a real eye opener being in town; there were four of us and we were the only white people there. It wasn't intimidating at all, even with open staring. A few nods of hello and a tiny child unable to look away, staring right at me.... perhaps I'm the first blue eyed person he's seen. I bought some things that will make me feel more at ease if my case never arrives....okay, I bought two skirts and a pair of pants. Just in case. In case.... get it?
The day was unusual, as the people we had arranged to meet were unable to come due to the week of action that is happening in Swaziland next week. Swaziland has a really interesting culture, which is at times, very difficult to stomach. It is ruled by an absolute monarchy, which means that the king (who is 42) is in charge of everything. Literally everything. Political parties are banned; anyone openly displaying political affirmations (and many who do not) may be arrested on suspicion of terrorism. Voicing views against the king is outlawed. Intimidation and violence is rife. 69% of the population live on less than $1 per day, (that skirt was a weeks wages) yet the king is able to keep somewhere between 14 and 25 wives in a life of luxury. Swaziland has the highest rate of H.I.V and AIDS in the whole word, with figures between 26 and 40% of the population being infected. It's bad here, bad and corrupt, but very beautiful and so far, the people are lovely.
The evening was the most notable part of the day. We were lucky enough to have dinner with individuals who are involved in the struggle for democracy. I shall not name them for fear of putting them in danger, but they are seriously inspirational people. I sat next to a chap for diner, who was once a student, but had to give up his studies after being thrown in jail for two months for daring to mention something the King did not like. I spoke at great length with another chap about the way forward for the Swazi people and how we can help them. He told me that he wants to retain a monarchy, but that decisions on things like health and education should have input from the people and the only way to get that is to empower the people. We spoke about how you and me, the international community, could help. He said we need to raise awareness so that when protests are made, the Swazi people know they have the support of people outside their nation. When student activists are being beaten to death by Police for wearing a political t'shirt, the least we can do is support people who are struggling against it.
After the political chat, I had a language lesson and jeez am I bad. There is a sound in the Swazi language (the name if which I can not spell) that is particular to Africa. A series of clicks, apparently handed down from the San people, the original Africans. Although I recognise I am dreadful, I tried and managed to cause laughter around the table. I am certain I will get there eventually, if I try hard enough. (Just so you know mum, I checked I wasn't accidentally swearing and I am ok this time!).
The evening was somewhat spoiled by the appearance of a very very rude white South African, who started shouting when the restaurant phone was ringing. It rang and rang and rang and eventually, I answered it at is was playing the devil with my hearing aid. To summarise, I got a bit of male chauvinism, spun into school mistress mode and gave the chap a telling off. All was quiet, until he started arguing with someone on his table and threw a chair, which broke. Idiot. Security was called and one of the gents we were having dinner with decided that he had not been locked up for treason for years to have some young upstart ruin it for us. We all got an apology, idiot man got the choice of cells or hotel house arrest and chose house arrest.
We all went to the bar. I needed a break, so decided to leave the tourist table and summon the inner barmaid and chat to the blokes propping up the bar. One of them runs a company making plastic bags in South Africa. He was lovely, because he allowed me to question him on the environmental side of his business and took the banter about corporate responsibility. I asked him about recycling, he said he prints messages on his bags. I asked him about bio-plastics, he said that his customers do not want it because it costs more. I asked him what the future is; he said that South Africa is not really ready for that. I told him he was wrong. As it turns out, said man was happy to share his experiences of being a white South African. Before I go further, I should explain that colour and race are so entrenched in society, that to understand anything about South Africa, one has to name races. Coloured, black, Asian, white; although I feel uncomfortable talking in terms of race, that is my prejudice, as here it is the normal terminology used to describe people. Anyways, this white South African man was happy to share the banter and happy for me to ask about apartheid and how it had affected him. He said he feels in the minority being white, but that it does not bother him as he has a thriving business. I asked him about his labour; he employs 85 black staff in a total of 94. I asked if it was because his labour was menial and no, it is because they work hard and he likes all of his staff. They refer to him as the white man, but that is used in an affectionate way. Some drive company cars and some have had extra help from him in putting their children through school. Often accused of being cynical, I delved further into his views and say that I believe he was telling the truth. Blunt and to the point, he answered all of my questions. He also told me that he can not abide the King of Swaziland; that he is corrupt and possibly a bit mad. Apparently, the youngest of his wives is 14, which, said South African man insists is plain child abuse and can not be hidden under shrouds of cultural differences. I admired his candidness.
It has been a bit of a day of it what with the nausea caused by my anti malarials. Sleep now!
We were pulled over for a permit inspection. Permit? What permit? 
