Swaziland - Rocks, Lambs and Kings

Perhaps the most 'African' experience I have had so far was my trip through Swaziland. Although I was only 8 years old, there are things I remember vividly about the country and my experiences there.

My parents turned the back seat of their Toyota Carola, that so faithfully took us through Zim the year before, into a flat bed and prepared with coloring books, crayons, note books, and hand held digital games my little sister and I hopped aboard for the long road trip.

Growing up with so much traveling, I learnt to appreciate scenic routes and became a skilled day dreamer. I remember clearly the rolling green hills and giant boulders. My Dad had been reading fantasy fiction to us at bedtimes, and I remember almost expecting to see Bilbo and Gandalf sitting on one of these boulders smoking their pipes.

On this trip, we got to experience authentic tribal African livelihood, being hosted by a friendly local rural family. We took a long walk from our hosting village to neighboring huts and villages, meeting wonderful people in their authentic african lifestyles.

I can't remember where or how we slept, but I do remember the huts where the ladies cooked in pots on fires for us, and the wash-up hut where we rinsed down over a bucket. Of course there were the long drops too, and I pity my mom teaching an 8 year old and a 5 year old the art of squatting. Once mastered, one night I felt brave enough to head out to the long drop with a torch on my own. While busy hoping nothing would crawl up from inside the pit, I focused my attention on a bleating lamb I could hear near by. I decided once I was done that I'd look for it. I walked around and around the long drop hut, but the bleating would get louder without a lamb in sight. I soon realized it was coming from down below some how and then noticed the cover of the old unused drop, that's where the noise was coming from. Rushing back to convince an adult to "come quick, there's a lamb in the long drop" seemed to work eventually, and a group gathered around to uncover that there was in fact a lamb stuck inside the old drop. Grabbing a young boy by his ankles, they lowered him down and he rescued out the lamb. I remember that boy and I grinning at each other shyly, probably both relishing the feeling of heroism.

Along the road, my Dad's radio signal between him and the rest of the convoy got interrupted by official's enquiring what they we were all doing in their country in such a long convoy. When it was explained to them that we were on a mission trip to help out a rural church that was busy being built and visit a rural school, they seemed not only satisfied but grateful. Turned out it was the King's convoy of police cars, limo's and all that had fallen behind us all on the road. They offered to escort our convoy to the next city and dispersed their vehicles between ours. My sister and I suddenly had a thousand questions of history, royalty and geography for my poor parents - was all terribly exciting for an 8 year old.

Swaziland is an African fairytale land. It's rural and dreamy without the intimidation that comes with traveling through some other African countries. The culture is bright and colorful and the people's friendly natures reflect their dress and decor. A beautiful trip to consider.