I think I love board games more than most people

And that’s what compelled me to melt into a puddle in Shopprite when I spotted a South African version of “Monopoly”.  I was roaming around Siteki with Futhi, another volunteer, and having failed to retrieve money from the ATM (ohh that’s right…  it was the end of the month), so I had very limited dolla dolla bills. I turned to Futhi and blurted out “would it be stupid if I bought this?” Without a hint of judgment, she said “go for it” (or something along those lines… this was in October… and hey! This is my reality!) so I picked a box off the shelf, paused momentarily to smile appreciatively at the giant teddy bears strategically placed next to the “monopoly” boards, and bounced my way to the check-out line. Now. Would the card machine work? AND IT DID. And it hasn’t worked since. But that’s beside the point. I proceeded to prance around Siteki hugging the game like it was my most prized possession much to the amusement of random passersby.  As I strolled through the bomake market I bumped into my friend Mavis, and this was when I promised, one Saturday during the break to play monopoly with her… fast forward a few weeks. 

It was hot, and it took a lot of energy to drag myself out of the strangely climate-controlled house that I currently reside in, but the guilt of putting off playing monopoly overcame my survival instincts to remain in doors. So I packed up the game, wrapped myself in a lihiya, and ventured out into the great unknown (the amount of roosters dotting the path makes it a perilous journey).  As I strolled through the market, greeting the various bomake (oh, the art of schmoozing), I approached Mavis’ stall only to find her a little frazzled. “Oh Bongiwe! I was late coming back from Manzini, I am still very busy”. Two thoughts ran through my head simultaneously. Well… that’s not the end of the world and “Maybe I could help?” is what blurted from my lips. She hesitated… “but you don’t know how…” My mind was made up, so I persisted… “but Mavis, you could teach me” and that was that. She moved a stool next to her chair where she was packaging green peppers. She gave me a brief tutorial and then presented me with a box of apples.  How hard could this be? Well, it wasn’t necessarily difficult, but I had certain standards to uphold… the apples had to be stacked a certain way, the plastic baggies functioning more like cling-wrap, and I had to fit between 4 and 6 apples in the same size bag. Magic. After a little while it became much easier, and it was really fun to be sitting behind the stall with Mavis packaging up emaveg and emafruits.  Mavis is well known in the market, and several people came up asking her what she was doing “Wentani lapho Mavis” and she would proudly respond “Ngipakgisha na Bongiwe” (I am packaging with Bongiwe).

Something that’s changed in the past month or so is the fact that acquaintances are becoming friends, and I feel like I can trust more people that previously made me wary. I sort of left PST feeling like I’d never make any Swazi friends, or that I’d always be seen as someone who has things of material value, rather than as a person. It was easy to feel guarded when those assumptions were supported by strangers frequently stating “give me money” or “please support”.  I think that’s why sometimes I feel short of patience when I go into town, because I know that those are conversations I am going to have to navigate. However, sitting in the bomake market with Mavis made me feel like I belonged, like I was a part of the community, and that I had more value than whatever items I squished into a suitcase and overly large backpack when I came here. Often, that bubble bursts when I least expect it.  Sometimes I’ll be having really nice conversations with someone on a kombi, or walking through town. Just when I’m feeling like I am being seen as myself, I get the kiss of death “can you give me 5 rand?”  I hate that that is always at the back of my mind… why often I feel like “why bother greeting this person” because I feel like we’re a hop skip and a jump from the real goal of any conversation… But that’s not fair. And that’s what Mavis’ friendship reminds me. That people can be friendly and supportive, and mean it, not with some hope of gaining something other than a good laugh and a pleasant conversation. It’s important to know that, because I think when I lose that understanding I feel lonely here.  I think that was one of the nicest things about that hot afternoon in the market, I decided to let my guard down, and I wasn’t disappointed.  And I was able to transcend the surface-level communication that I really loathe… and that easily frustrates me. I learned more about Mavis, how important Monopoly actually is to her… (she used to play it with her sister who has passed away), that she’s a hard worker, and I felt like a person. So I came out of this experience with some restored faith in my experience here, a new skill in packaging fruit, and feeling like I had a friend.  Not a bad afternoon at all. 

On a completely unrelated note… Sanelesiwe’s homestead has a mango tree(s?) and she promised to bring me back mangoes after she visited home… What I didn’t realize is that that meant I would receive a 10 liter-bucket full… So with great internal amusement… and personal pride (or something…) I’d like to announce that I successfully ate (with a little help from my friends) 79 mangoes in a week. Yep. 79 mangoes.  I didn’t quite pull a bubba-gump shrimp… (Mango curry, mango custard, fried mango, steamed mango, frozen mango, mango smoothies…) but I definitely made good use of them, and didn’t turn orange. So I’d say that’s a success.

In other news I am super excited that my friend Sarah will be visiting me in March… which is… I have no words. I am also not sure if I should be terrified because it’ll be interesting to see two worlds collide… nah. It’s going to be awesome! I cannot wait to troll the countryside with her.  And eat mangoes. Obviously.

Well, I’m going to leave it at that.

Sala Kahle.