It’s been a busy and interesting Monday, here at my new job, as the new Executive Director of the Swiss Academy for Development. SA4D is an NGO based in Switzerland but operating globally – working through ‘sport & play’ as a central theme/method to support children and young adults in their (and their community’s) development, including after civil war or other traumatic events. I can’t imagine a more worthy reason to establish (or 30 years later, for me to join) an organization. A purposeful challenge. Especially after a day like today, it feels a bit like standing below and staring up at a mountain, at massive experience and knowledge for me to absorb and make sense of as best I can. Whether figurative or literal, how do you get to the top of a mountain? As it turns out, the answer is always the same: you keep climbing, one step at a time. This evening, I am grateful for the experience of past climbs. I was thinking about one in particular, more than 11 years ago. A Sunday morning climb in the Kingdom of Swaziland (since renamed Eswatini). I jotted down a few impressions afterwards. Rereading them made me miss the driven individuals of the HiA and HP report teams I had the opportunity to work with at that time. I am grateful to this day for their insights, energy, and humor through it all. And I am grateful beyond words for having once again joined a passionate group of professionals seeking to support the most vulnerable.
I am motivated, curious, and confident in what lies ahead, even as the steepness of the learning curve is daunting.
The memory of past explorations in Mbabane makes me smile this evening.
Mbabane, March 7, 2010 –
“The Kingdom
The journey continues in Swaziland.
Swaziland is cool. I mean that literally. I am questioning my recent decision to use my fleece jacket as packing material to send trinkets back to my god-daughter. It would have come in handy here. It gets chilly at night. No malaria. Swaziland is also beautiful; hilly and very green.
Our week has started well. As elsewhere, we get good feedback and encouragement from the people we speak to. That is good. I appreciate it more than I have in a while. Frustrations continue on the organizational front: I tried to write about it in detail, but it’s better I don’t. Frustrations run too high …
But there’s a good story in here too.
Sunday was time to rebuild some of the conviction in the task ahead and in my ability to carry it out. To crawl back, out of the self-doubt and self-pity, I went looking for higher ground. So I ran towards the mountain overlooking Mbabane. As was evident from afar and as is typical, the higher the houses are built on the steep slope, the lower the income level of the household. – On my way there, I ran past a soccer match, played on a field of red-brown dirt, with hundreds of spectators watching and cheering around it. I got curious, warm and welcoming stares and occasional ‘hellos’ as I went past. Not a white face anywhere.
I ran wherever the path seemed steepest, up the hill, until finally it ended among small mud and cement houses. Disappointed about the impending return and without much hope, I asked a guy walking my way, whether there was a path all the way up. Edward, with his young daughter on his arm, had never been to the top himself, so we went to ask one of his neighbors, Thembo. After some debate, they decided that a young girl two houses over would know. They got her and sent her off with the instruction to show me the path that goes half-way up. — As I left and thanked both of them for their help, Edward responded promptly and insistently: “It is good that you are here. We don’t see people like you here. Thank you. Maybe you come back.” And, as if it needed to be said, Thembo added: “White people don’t come here. Thank you.”
I was moved and didn’t know what to say, so I thanked them again and followed the girl up the hill. When we got to the end of the path, she simply pointed to the top, gave me an encouraging nod, then gave me her name -after I asked- in a non-audible voice, smiled at me playfully, bowed her head, and ran off down the hill again.
I continued up the slope, often crawling on all fours. I was grateful for the close analogy, that my slow upward progress seemed to provide for my state of mind. I was also grateful that this wasn’t the first time going up a steep slope. Phew. Finally, I reached the top. I took in the fantastic view, including the soccer game and its spectators directly below, and the valley towards Manzini and beyond. [I am adding a picture of the valley, taken from our hotel, since I couldn’t take a camera with me on the run: would be unfair and dangerous.]
I wondered how well the soccer spectators below could see me during my climb (very well, it turns out). I crawled back down the hill and started running back. When I got close to the soccer game, I heard increasing shouts of particular words I didn’t understand as I went past. I got a bit nervous about the attention, though it still seemed in good humor and welcoming. At the end of the field, one in a group of young men, looked at me directly as I approached, grinned and shouted, to the great merriment of those around him, as if to translate the earlier calls: Hello, mountain man.
Delighted and confused/embarrassed by the attention, I gave a wave, a smile and a nod, and ran past, as I heard others behind me laughing and repeating ‘mountain man, mountain man’.
Sunday was a good day.”
