Our First Visitor!

A long overdue thanks to our first visitor: Armand's sister, Rachel. A fortunate combination of expiring vacation time and our move to the new house meant that Rachel had a really good trip to Swaziland. And although we don't typically wear helmets around each other, they are required for zip-lining in Malalotja Forest, a lush green reserve about 30 minutes outside Mbabane.

Although Rachel was only here for a week, her time was filled with visits to handicraft markets, good meals, day trips around Swaziland, and a few nights in Kruger.

After a brief drive into Malalotja Forest and a short walk to the first platform -- the pleasantness of the hike briefly interrupted by a half-coiled puff adder choking a frog down its throat -- we were off. Rachel, the experienced zip-liner, merrily took to the lines. Informed by the instructors that if I pulled on the line too much to brake I would lose momentum and have to pull myself, hand over hand, to the other side, I quickly developed a penchant for lightening fast approaches to the small wooden platforms bolted to the other side of this gorgeous canyon.

The lines, about a dozen in all, crisscrossed the forest with a stunning river flowing about 100m below. The views were gorgeous, and save for a wobbly suspension bridge that felt completely unfit for taller people with high centers of gravity (like me), it was a blast.

The afternoon of Rachel's arrival, though, we started with animals. One of our favorite parks, and Swaziland's first nature reserve, is tucked between the airport and our house. We drove the dirt roads, spotting wildebeest and impala, warthogs and crocodiles, as they searched for shade on an unusually hot day. We also came upon this amazing hippo-out-of-the-water sighting. My limited understanding is that hippos stay in the water because of sun sensitivity, and I've never really seen them laying out like this midday. The luckier sighting would have been watching them climb onto their tiny island perch, but all told this wasn't a half-bad consolation prize.

Our three days in Kruger was the place for animal sightings, however. Within minutes of entering the gates we'd spotted giraffe searching for food and elephants in the distance. The rains hadn't come in full and it seemed that the scarcity of food drove animals to the rivers and watering holes throughout the park.

The elephants were too numerous to count. And while the rhinos kept more of a distance, the elephants often strayed close to the roads and dirt paths, adding a real intensity to our daily sightings.

Rachel, a nocturnal creature if ever there was one, also pushed to go on a night drive. Although I was a bit reticent -- it seemed invasive to shine bright lights on animals -- I was probably a bit too skeptical.  Many animals don't come out, or really move around, until night falls. And it's peaceful to be out in the park, after everyone else has settled in for the night and non-park vehicles are prohibited from driving the roads. We didn't encounter another car for the 3 hours we were out and we saw things we wouldn't otherwise have been able to: several hyenas on the prowl, an African wild cat, hippos out of the water looking for food, and some rodent-sized kangaroo-like creatures, hoping around in small groups. Nothing photographed well, save for this owl, perched on a bridge high above the Olifants River. 

Our closest encounter was saved for the last day, though. As we made our way through the middle of the park, two lions rested along the side of the road, largely ignoring our car and the few others that passed by. We turned off the engine and spent a long while sitting there, within feet of these very sleepy cats. It was spectacular. Those paws are like baseball bats.

Back in Swaziland, Sarah, still studying for the Boards and unable to go on a lot of these trips, searched for a proper send-off. She quickly plucked mulberries from our tree and strawberries from the garden, putting together this impressive tart.

Rachel made it happen. She got to Swaziland first and we couldn't have been happier to have her. It was all the better in our new house and with so many places to explore, new to both her and us.

When Your Oven Won't Work...

because you haven't yet figured out that the clock must be set on your Defy 731T Thermofan before anything but the stove-top burners will operate, and you really want some kind of Sunday morning baked good, remember: you pan-bake English muffins. Win.

Pine Valley

And that's the view from our deck. Needless to say, it didn't take long for us to decide to move. Living close to city center had it's perks, especially as we were getting set up, but after spending the last few weeks in our new house, we couldn't be happier with our move to the country. 

About 10km from downtown Mbabane, Pine Valley sits snugly between two sets of rolling hills. A river cuts through the center of the valley and Sibebe, the world's largest granite outcrop, if Swazi promotional materials are to be believed, juts along one side for most of the drive to our house. Cows wander into the road. Two days ago, a dozen monkeys climbed onto our deck, taking in the view and peering through the wood-paned windows. I tried to keep them away from the fruiting loquat tree. After playing on our roof for a bit they seemed to retreat. Guinea fowl scamper in groups of two or three, rustling among fallen banana leaves on the border of the garden. But here's the thing, we can't talk about the house without confronting the elephant in the room: it is way too big for the two of us. We need visitors, fast. Like, long-term, sabbatical, finally-write-that-damn-book, unpaid-leave-from-work type visitors. Consider that an invite.  

The house has beautiful stone floors and wood ceilings downstairs; it's all wood upstairs.  

We have too many rooms to fill on our own, so for now that means rolling out a yoga mat and calling it a "yoga" room, or sliding a guitar in another space and calling it done, as if each hobby needs its own dedicated area with a closing door. 

The property itself is expansive and littered with fruit and nut trees that we are only beginning to identify. Here's our running list: avocado; lemon; orange; kumquat; guava; fig; pear; plum; apple; peach (so many small green fruits right now on several trees); apricot; banana; papaya; lychee; mango; loquat (amazingly good and so productive right now); mulberry; granadilla/passion fruit; wild raspberry; macadamia nut; and grapes. It. Is. Unbelievable. To say nothing of the roses and jasmine; hyacinth and honeysuckle; and all of the other flowers we discover each time we take a walk.  

Or the seventeen (!) garden plots that we, and, mostly, a neighbor for hire, laboriously turned over to prepare for planting.   

It's like this property was built with us in mind, designed to take advantage of all of our free time and send us on this one, particular path.  

Mozambique, Bagels, and Protests

Shit.  Another exceptionally long delay between postings is about to result in a harried recap of our last few weeks.  At least we’re leaving room for improvement on the blogging front….

Sarah’s board studying has begun in earnest, which means fewer adventures until she’s done in mid-October, BUT before that self-imposed exile, we managed to escape with some friends to Mozambique a few weekends back.  I say “escape” because this was the weekend of Swaziland’s  Umhlanga (Reed) Dance, an annual event where bare-breasted virgins gather for a week or so in a large soccer field to celebrate the Queen Mother (by bringing her reeds for her palace) and their own virginity (rolled out this year, a pilot program to test the girls' virginity).  The King has also occasionally used the opportunity to pick a new wife, once even fining himself a cow for picking an underage girl (the traditional sanction in place at that time).  Despite this kind of self-regulation, the marriages don't always work out that well.   So, we took a pass, even though the Reed Dance is considered one of Swaziland's largest tourist attractions, and headed out of country.  

Maputo, Mozambique's capital, has this kind of crumbling beauty.  Portuguese architecture stained from years of coastal winds stand tall, with fenced-in balconies often stretching to the top floors.  

Among these old giants, other jewels remain, like the city’s nearly defunct train station, designed a century ago by Gustave Eiffel’s firm.

 

Or the stunningly-refurbished Hotel Polana, the “Grande Dame of Africa,” where we ordered cocktails in a spot once favored by WWII spies. 

These few flashes of past (or restored) brilliance are not indicative of the state of the country, though.  Infrastructure doesn’t feel updated since independence.  Roads, frequently named for communist heroes, were deeply potholed and dangerous.  The rural poverty leading into Maputo was on full display as we drove along the two-lane highway that leads into this city of a million plus.  It was interesting just how used to Swaziland we had become in such a short period of time; Mozambique felt different.  While Swaziland’s border post is large and relatively modern (there are computers), Mozambique’s was an exercise in triplicate and included a border guard who, with our passports firmly in his grip, informed us that he was hungry.   You can drink the water in Swaziland (I know!), which means we eat fresh vegetables; in Mozambique, like in most of the third world, it’s gotta be boiled, fried, or peeled.  Everything becomes so relative so quickly that it is hard to get a handle on how deeply your expectations have altered until you change something dramatic, like countries.

We took pleasure in the differences, though, and are excited to stretch our explorations into deeper territories north and south.  We tried to provide our own small economic stimulus to the economy, too: perusing local markets; buying more cashews on the streets than we knew what to do with; seeking out delicious Thai and Indian food; returning for gelato, again, to that brightly-lit place around the corner; and finding live music, first drumming and dancing at the Franco-Mozambican Cultural Centre, and the next night, a four-piece jazz outfit at a small wine bar lined with large, open windows to let in the breeze.  

Oh, and the fish.  Although the city’s beaches are landmines of broken beer bottles and rusty bottlecaps, the view from the city is beautiful and fishing boats dot the horizon.  At this market you buy your seafood wholesale:

And then one of the restaurants at an adjacent courtyard turns it into this:

It was a trip with later nights out than sleepy Swaziland usually affords, and a mix of cultures that coastal destinations seem uniquely positioned to provide. 

Back in Swaziland, we’ve settled into a pretty good routine.  Most days, Sarah’s work takes her to the Baylor Clinic in Mbabane a few blocks from our house, but at least once a week she’s off to the satellite clinic in Manzini (about 35km away) or a rural clinic mostly staffed by MSF docs in Hlatikulu (100km away).   Armand splits his days working on law- and NGO-connections for possible volunteer or work opportunities, with time leftover for reading and guitar and the occasional stop at the tiny but beautifully situated gym in town.   At night, Sarah studies and Armand cooks.  We read.  The other night we made pizza at a Spanish doctor’s house.  She’s lived here for four years and has a projector in her house for watching downloaded movies, which was kind of amazing.  We’ve been making pita and tortillas, banana bread and hummus, and partly-inspired by Gayle’s recent vacation recap, started kneading bagel dough on Friday night, letting it rise in the refrigerator, and then shaping, boiling, and baking them on Saturday morning.  They’re delicious, and after two weeks we’re already much better at it, like deciding to put fresh-pressed garlic on several bagels and baking them to a toasty, crackly brown.   Salt, honey whole-wheat, cinnamon raisin, and poppy have been successes.  

Despite the relative stability of our own lives, Swaziland continues to face one crisis after another.  First, their near financial collapse, saved at the last minute by a loan from South Africa, has stalled.  And this after the King requested that he receive a commission for securing the loan.  I think the technical term is kickback.  Although the IMF, World Bank, and numerous other countries declined, one can only imagine that South Africa is not chomping at the bit to see a country almost entirely within its own borders fail, let alone one with the highest HIV rate in the world. 

School resumed today after a month off for winter break, but only because the teachers' union committed to being there.  The principals did not want to return until the government delivered the required funds necessary to continue to provide free primary education.   

Last week saw several days of protests in cities countrywide, as university students objected to the government’s failure to deliver funds sufficient for all of its students to return and pro-democracy forces and unionists protested, as well.  Political parties are banned, but unions are allowed to do so, although the government sought an injunction on Saturday to stop the week-long demonstrations.  Swaziland's rulers seemed to have learned a lesson from last April, refusing to confront the protesters to create newsworthy events, even here as I watched youth mock the belly of a particularly heavyset officer.

Later in the day, though, away from my own camera’s eye, police unleashed tear gas and rubber bullets.  Without a critical mass of protest participants, a reaction from the government was the only thing that might escalate the disturbance into something that could actually foster change, and this one incident doesn't seem up to muster.  

Swaziland is also in the middle of a judicial crisis, started by the actions of the High Court's Chief Justice, which has led the lawyers to strike and the courts to close for several weeks. 

It is a fascinating time to be here; one with the markers of great change, but the seeming lack of either popular will or a singular, precipitating event to actually make it happen.   We're very happy to be here at such a significant moment, and remain content to intersperse our cultural immersion with the occasional trip abroad and a few homemade bagels. 

Getting Settled

Apologies for the (month-long!) delay in starting up the blog.  We’ve been busy settling into our new home and trying to take advantage of opportunities to explore the area.  We’re both doing very well, happily settling into a slower pace of life, new work responsibilities/search, and a new culture.

We traveled well, if a bit further on the luggage-heavy side than we are used to.  We had to keep saying quietly to one another: everyone else at the airport is going on a trip, for like a week or two, we’re moving.  Visions of our single shared suitcase on a trip to Italy in May danced through our heads as we each pushed a cart through the terminal in Houston. 

Humility aside, the flights went well.  I generally think criticism of (international) coach travel is a bit overstated, but cannot for the life of me figure out why some flight attendants ask sleeping people about food.  No one deserves to be woken by the near-yelled question of: “Ice-cream or salty snack?!?!”  (I chose ice-cream.  The correct answer is: more sleep.)  Sleep is such a commodity on long flights that if I passed out standing in the bathroom I can only hope everyone would agree to just let me rest.

Landed, we spent the night at a hotel just outside the Johannesburg Airport, taking a puddle-jumper to Swaziland the following morning.  The flight is only 35 minutes, which lulled us into a false sense of security regarding check-in.  Of course we had to re-pay a baggage fee (expected) and of course that’s in a separate line across the terminal (should have been expected).  And of course all of our cards had been turned off (excuse me?), despite multiple warnings to VISA and our banks that, Yes, we’re moving abroad, and, No, we’re not quite sure for how long.  After a race to exchange money (first instance of line cutting) and pay the baggage fee back upstairs (number two), we cut through the security line (number three) and then the passport check point (number four), before running onto the tarmac to flag down the last bus transporting passengers to our plane for boarding.  Closest. Call. Ever.  But, half an hour later, we had caught our breath and our plane pulled right up to this sign, on a bright, sunny, Monday morning:

The staff at Baylor Clinic have been welcoming and have done everything possible to help us get settled, from a home-cooked meal on our first night to invites to gatherings and trips to the grocery.  We can’t thank them enough.  Baylor also posted us in a house in the city, where it has been incredibly helpful to be able to walk to the clinic (10 minutes) and into town (15 minutes). We live across the street from a primary school, which is kind of a blast, and we’ve started gardening, even though it’s the tail end of winter.  Our jasmine and bougainvillea are blooming and the strawberry and lettuce starts thriving.  The house is clean and furnished and from our kitchen window we can see the rolling, rocky hills characteristic of this part of the country.  There is a lot to like about our current spot but something tells me a move to the country may be in our very near future.

Oh, and we bought a car.  A “Dubai,” to be specific.  That’s the term most Swazis attach to the fleet of almost entirely Japanese cars that populate their used car lots.  It’s a purple-ish Honda CRV of mystery vintage with an ambitiously rolled back odometer and bright flair along the sides that can only be for speed.  It seems to run well and a fortuitously-timed currency fluctuation saved us about $450 USD.  Plus, Paulino, our Portuguese mechanic, is a fan.  Sarah's favorite part is the safari-friendly sunroof, something we quickly put to good use during a weekend in Hlane National Park. 

Although I consider myself a reasonably skilled driver, our application for international licenses did not include a question on what to do when four rhinoceros block your path.  I put it in reverse.  Self-guided safaris may be the best thing ever. Over that particular weekend we stayed at a working dairy farm, where we put fresh-creamed butter on our toast, wandered through cow pastures and citrus orchards, and generally felt at peace with the world. 

Nights and weekends around town consist of a lot of expat gatherings: Potlucks and welcome and goodbye dinners. Live music in Ezulwini Valley, where the rapping has clicks in it and a main ingredient in the beer is maize.  A surprisingly wild Medieval Party in the hills of Mbabane.  Ultimate Frisbee at Waterford Kamhlaba, the UWC in town, with equal parts expats, Peace Corps volunteers, and local kids who live in the hills around the school.  A fellow doc's 30th birthday party, where we cooked risotto, Sarah made a lemon tart, and where we learned that pre-paid electricity WILL shut off right when you have a dozen people in your living room.

And, of course, board studying, with this spot at Guava Café a favorite. 

  

Many apologies for the slow start to blogging; we’ll get better about it, we promise.  We couldn’t be more excited about the shape our life here is taking and we want to share it with all of you, if not in person, than at least with a few pictures and words.  Our love to you all.  More soon.

Goodbye - Sala kahle

Half of mortality in children under five occurs in Africa, a continent where only 10% of the world's children live. The Texas Children’s GlobalHealth Service Corps sends pediatricians to work with  local Ministries of Health to care for these forgotten children, and so, Armand and I are moving to Swaziland.  Our new kingdom is known for its charm, crafts, game parks and natural beauty, but also for having the highest rates of HIV on the globe and for being the last absolute monarchy in Africa. Our hope is that through this blog, we share the triumphs and heartaches of the next few years. Thank you all for your love and support. We look forward to your thoughts and welcome all of you to our new home.  Next stop…..Swaziland!

Catch Up Before Heading Home

Long overdue for an update. We've been busy traveling around, which has been incredibly exciting, but has also meant less reliable internet connections. Sarah & Wairimu finished their work in Kisii and gave their final presentations before we all headed to Nairobi. I had hoped that Sarah would catch the blogging bug while I was away, but it looks like a joint, belated post is more our style. Our friends from the Pacific NW – Sadie from Lummi and the McBrides from Seattle – flew in to meet us for a couple weeks of traveling together. Chris & I headed to Tanzania to try our hand at Kilimanjaro. That first weekend, while we worked our way up the first few legs of the Kili climb, Sarah, Sadie, and the remaining McBrides headed to Castle Forest Lodge, at the base of Mt. Kenya, where they stared down elephants in the dark, blissfully unaware of just how dangerous they were. They hiked trails and road horses, gazed at the night's stars and ate home-baked Danish pastries made by the ex-pat lodge owner. By all accounts, it was a wonderful weekend before Sarah's last week of work in Nairobi.

That final week was a bit of a slog for us both – me up the mountain, and Sarah and Wairiumu as they wrapped up project work back in the city. The highlight of Sarah's week was a trip to the Kibera slums, where Sarah and Wairimu visited with some residents in their homes. Kibera is thought to be the largest urban slum in Africa, most immediately recognizable from the aerial shots in The Constant Gardner. My highlight was of a much more rural nature as I trekked through several ecosystem changes, weather patterns, and lower air pressure. Somehow, we both made it through. Sarah finishing her project and giving her final presentation in Nairobi, Chris and I to the summit, climbing over snow and past glaciers, just a few clicks south of the equator.

Both of us ready to relax, we met back up in Nairobi for some delicious Ethiopian food before heading on safari to the Maasai Mara. Despite being at the tail end of the dry season, every animal had babies: cheetahs, elephants, zebras, gazelles, impalas, hyenas (surprising cute babies!), hippos, pythons, wildebeest, giraffe, warthogs, and many others. We stumbled across a pack of seven cheetahs walking towards shade and a group of lions feasting on a just-killed zebra. We also waited patiently for two leopards to emerge from the bushes and claim the carcass of a still-warm impala. Along the Mara River we watched in awe as a herd of zebra attempted to cross, despite the gathering crocs, while two hippos fought on the rocks for dominance and several elephants crossed to the other side as well, blasting their horn at the zebras in their way. It was intense seeing so much life happen all together and in such close proximity. No amount of re-watching Planet Earth episodes (and we've watched a lot) prepared us for the feeling of actually being there.

After several days in the Mara, we headed to Lake Naivasha, where Sarah and Kelly trained as Peace Corps volunteers. With Elsamere as a home base – literally the jumping off point for the conservation movement in Kenya – we explored Crescent Island on foot where we walked among giraffe and later road bikes through Hell's Gate National Park, beside gazelles and zebra. It felt good to get some physical activity in. Despite the adventuresome sounding word “safari,” it's a surprisingly sedentary activity, and we were thankful to experience some of these animals outside of a vehicle.

And now, with only a few days left, we've been hiding away on the coast. First, a night in Mombasa, a city with some incredible history. Despite Kenya's claims to early mankind, the country is largely devoid of the kind of structural reminders of generations past. Mombasa is the exception. Buildings are hundreds of years old, and the island is a melting pot of Portuguese colonialism, Indian influence, Christianity and Islam, and a strong sense of Swahili culture. We walked through Old Town's maze of streets, where fabric vendors and street food are commonplace, and where the blue-green waters of the Indian Ocean were visible at the ends of several blocks.

But despite all that tempting history, we've been tucked away at a house on Diani Beach, just an hour south of Mombasa, with a marine-filled reef just off the shore line, easily visible at low tide each afternoon. And to our extreme delight, the strongest culinary influence on this small beach town is Italian(!). So, we've found wood-fired, brick oven pizzas and raised our gelato consumption to Rome-like levels. There is an enormous baobob tree in front of our palm-thatched cottage, where Sykes, Colobus, and Vervet monkeys compete for the banana-scented flowers, and sunis scavenge the ground for something to eat. It is a blissfully sun-baked existence that we are savoring as we brace to return to Seattle's early spring.

Thank You, Kesara

Thank you for staying in contact with Wairimu after medical school. Thank you for taking a position that landed you in Kisii. Thank you for having a sister, waiting for her nursing post to finalize, who wants nothing more than to help a near-stranger chop vegetables and peel fruit. Thank you for having DSTV, where watching Lady Gaga emerge from an egg-like pod during the Grammys felt normal. And thank you for allowing me to use your apartment for the better part of a day, with it's oven and refrigerator and freezer, to make a Valentine's Day dinner. So, a Kisii market-inspired menu, with only minimal ingredients (flour and yeast for dough; chocolate for melting; wine for drinking) store bought, all diligently photographed by Sarah.

Pan-Warmed Macadamia Nuts in Olive Oil and Salt

Avocado with Honey-Lime Vinaigrette

Pickled Red Onion & Chilled Cucumber Salad

 Sautéed Butternut Squash

 Roasted Root Vegetables with Yogurt-Cilantro Tzatziki

 Green Pepper & Tomato Pizza with Red Sauce 

and Eggplant & Caramelized Onion White Pizza

 Vanilla Ice Cream and Tropical Fruit Compote with Dark Rum and Ginger Root

 Chocolate Covered Frozen Sweet Bananas

Wine Spritzer with Lime Juice, Passion Fruit, and Frozen Mango Chunks

And, you know, candles.