As my time in Swaziland winds to an end, I seek to reflect
on the aspects of Swaziland that have made my experience meaningful and unique.
I have been blessed with the opportunity to live and dwell in this rural
community alongside a host of characters that bring life to this sleepy
village. Some have become close friends
while others I have simply observed from afar, but all have in some way
impacted me, bring my joy, making me laugh, and reminding me to count my
blessings. I am embarking on an attempt
to chronicle these individuals, as I feel we all have something to learn from their
stories. I wish that Megan could be here
to more eloquently document these unique personalities, but in her absence I
will do my best.
Gogo Jele
My crippled, widowed, unemployed, impoverished, HIV positive,
most likely diabetic neighbor. Sure, on
paper she looks like a cause for sympathy.
But don’t let her sad story fool you – homegirl can’t be stopped. I first noticed Gogo Jele one day early in my
service as I was sitting in bed enjoying my morning coffee. At this point I was unaccustomed to the
general absurdity of life here and was startled to find an fleshy old woman,
clad in only a sheet of fabric wrapped loosely around her chest, crutching
along while balancing an entire bundle of firewood on her head. Talk about a BAMF. I soon observed that she is essentially an
adopted member of the family, despite her residence in a modest stone hut
located separate, but adjacent to our homestead. Living alone and without any reliable income,
Gogo Jele subsists on the generosity of my Make and Babe. I wake each morning to the clang of her
crutches outside my hut as she heads to the main house in search of the
morning’s handout – bread, maize porridge, cold water, and leftover chicken
parts on special occasions. She’ll
crutch home with said goodies balanced on her head, singing joyfully. Some days when I run, I’ll find her miles
from home, hobbling back with a backpack full of prawns from the river. God knows how long the journey takes her or
how she manages to catch the prawns, but somehow she finds a way.
So Gogo Jele is a bada** on
crutches. But her real claim to fame:
this lady knows how to throw back the booze.
Seriously. She could give any
frat star a run for their money – she’s a tank.
In fact, I can’t be certain whether I’ve ever seen her sober. The local shebeen (bar) is conveniently
located just up the hill from our homestead.
This mud hut bar beckons a rowdy crowd of the village rejects, offering
a reprieve from the loneliness and monotony of rural living. On any given afternoon Gogo Jele can be found
crutching up the hill, sporting her finest outfit, ready to shotgun some maize
brew. She must have a sugar daddy or
someone who hooks her up with drinks, because she her lack of income won’t get
her far in the way of belligerency.
Either that or her wit and charm earn her free drinks on the house (on
the hut?). At dusk she hobbles back down
the hill, slurring her songs and chuckling to herself.
She’ll be the first to tell you how
much she loves tjwala (alcohol). In
fact, when my mom and Megan came to visit, she refrained from greeting them
according to traditional Swazi etiquette.
Instead, she simply mumbled to herself, “Gogo Jele utsandza kunatsa tjwala.”
Gogo Jele loves to drink alcohol.
Her favorite time of year: marula
season, when the fermented fruit drink is more readily available than
water. From February until the end of
the harvest in late March, Gogo Jele basks in the abundance of marula brew, her
world revolving around its preparation and consumption. She has bartered with
her more straight-edge neighbors for access to their marula harvest, hauling
large bags of the fruit back to her homestead, where she diligently prepares
for the drink the remainder of the afternoon before heading back up the hill
for the evening festivities. Gogo Jele
is truly at her prime during marula season and on several occasions her
drinking habits have impeded her ability to return home safely. Most recently, she has called upon our family
to rescue her after losing balance on her trek back from the bar after several
jugfulls of drink. Upon discovery that a
rescue entailed a free lift home in a wheelbarrow, she has conveniently upped
the frequency of her requests for rescue missions.
The latest news with Gogo
Jele: The bar owner has recently gifted
her with her very own cell phone. Gogo
can now call ahead to ensure that the brew is in plentiful stock before making
the journey for her daily dose.
Gogo’s thirst for both booze and
life bring color to our often bleak rural community. Some might critique her excessive drinking
habits, arguing that they hinder her progression out of poverty. Sure, if she cut back on the drink she could probably
save a couple rand, spare her liver, and possibly tack on a few extra years on
her life. But who can blame her for
making the most out of her unfortunate situation? The community has embraced her, belligerence,
crutches, and all. I know that as a
“community health educator,” I should probably be lecturing her on the health
implications of excessive alcohol consumption, especially on an empty stomach
and whilst taking ARVS. But all I can do
is sit back and applaud her zest for life.
So many of us choose to dwell in the sorrows of our less-than-perfect
lives. To say that Gogo Jele has been
dealt some pretty crappy cards in her lifetime would be a severe
understatement. However, not once have I
heard her resent her situation or wallow in self-pity like so many others,
including myself. Come to think of it,
she is the only person in our community who has not asked me for handouts. Gogo Jele refuses to succumb to her poverty,
her disability, or her poor health. Not
only has she lifted my spirits on gloomy days with her jolly chuckle, but she
inspires me with her zest for life, encouraging me to seize the opportunities
with which I have been blessed. I think
we all need a bit of “Gogo Jele” spunk in our lives.
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