 
On the Road Swaziland
May 2006
In Reverse Chronological Order
Jamie's e-mails:
Saturday, May 27th, 2006 – Last day in Pigg’s
Peak
We have finally made it back to Pigg’s Peak where it
all started 18 days ago. The Swazi clowns were delighted
to arrive home on Thursday. To see their children or
parents, feed the chickens, or just breathe the smoky mountain
air once again. Yesterday’s performances at the
Positive Vision for Swaziland (www.positivevisionforswaziland.org)
crèches was much more relaxed and playful. It
is a wonder what a night’s sleep in one’s own
bed will do to the spirit. Of course, it has been a
while since I have had that fortune…not even sure if
there is a place I can call my own bed anymore. Ah,
the life of an itinerant clown!
This morning is our first lazy Saturday in a while.
Instead of waking up at 5:00 to the crow of roosters perched
on our window sill, Matt, Sarah, and I manage to sleep in
until 6:30. The extra hour and a half has us groggy
and slow but ready for the day. After breakfast of Jungle
Oats, the standard Swazi fare, we head into town to meet Sibusiso
and Mancoba. Sarah and Matt have promised to teach them
how to use the internet and create an email account so we
can communicate overseas. The lesson is yet another
reminder of how much we take for granted: moving a mouse cursor,
opening a web page, typing your name in, and even finding
the @ key are all foreign concepts to them. However, so was
taking a bath in a basin with boiling water or making a pot
of pap to us two weeks ago.
At 12:30, the entire cast meets at the Positive Vision to
get ready for our final show. We will be performing
at a community candlelight vigil for victims of HIV/AIDS organized
by the Alliance of Mayors and Municipal Leaders on HIV/AIDS
in Africa (AMICAAL). The vigil is slated for this afternoon
because many of the participants have far to travel afterwards;
on a Saturday night, this can be dangerous, especially after
payday. Thabile Ndlovu, the local coordinator for the
event, has asked us to help gather an audience by parading
from the Score Supermarket on Main Street to the community
hall where we rehearsed for our show two and a half weeks
ago. As per usual in Swaziland, there is confusion as
to where and what time we must start and exactly what the
program will be. Nevertheless, like so many times before,
a little patience goes a long way to easing anxiety and confusion.
We have learned to let things unfold instead of forcing them
to happen exactly when they must. With a little trust everything
turns out just okay or even better than expected.
Just as we are about to load up Chongololo (our Imperial Car
Hire donated truck) and head to the starting point, Nconbile
approaches me to tell me that she will not be joining us tonight
for our celebration because she needs to catch a taxi to Manzini
in central Swaziland. She has just learned that her
sister’s niece has been killed in a car accident.
It happened a week ago but her family decided to wait until
Nconbile returned from the tour before telling her.
This is the second daughter her sister has lost due to car
accidents this month. Afraid that she will disappoint
the team, Nconbilie says she will perform and then leave straight
after even though she is unsure if there will be transportation
at that late hour. Here we are, met with death - a constant
reminder during the expedition of how life hangs in a tenuous
balance here in Swaziland. We assure her that it is
more important for her to be with her family at this time.
Although we will miss her and her outstanding Women’s
Empowerment sketch, it is clear that she must leave straight
away to catch the bus. After tearful goodbyes and save
journeys, our wonderful partnership and collaboration has
begun to come to an end. As Chongololo pulls away, Nconbile
waves one last time and then walks with her head held high
towards the taxi and bus rink.
I guess an important lesson I have learned is that one must
move on in life and accept what is happening without either
liking or disliking it. Things are always changing and
it is up to us to adjust and move forward. The dampened
enthusiasm of the team is reignited while we march through
the streets of Pigg’s Peak. This is our final
performance and first public show in Pigg’s Peak for
many of the cast. Sarah towers on stilts above the group
sending bubble’s through the air. Khosi and Mancoba
juggle while Pilile and Sibusiso hold hands with children
who have joined us. I move in and out of the crowd with
an umbrella rigged to look like it is raining on this beautiful
blue-sky day. Kids squeal with laughter running out
of the way.
AMICAAL Parade: Khosi, Sibusiso, Pilile, Mancoba, and Sarah
(from left).
In the community hall, the mood is muted with somber remembrance
of those who have passed away. Speakers alternate with
choirs and traditional dances commemorating the vigil.
When it is our turn to perform, the atmosphere brightens.
The Balloon Funeral sketch is both hilarious and fitting for
the occasion. A local eccentric performer joins us onstage
to delight of the crowd. Instead of my usual gibberish
sermon, Sibusiso and I step out of the clown and talk about
the balloon as a symbol of life – precious, yet fragile.
In Swaziland, before we can even begin to talk about prevention,
acceptance of the threat of HIV/AIDS and removal of the stigma
is the first step. Many both in the audience and onstage
have lost a father, mother, brother, sister, child, or more
to HIV/AIDS. The trauma is real and immediate.
Yet, there is still hope. Just as the broken balloon
turns into a red nose, joy and celebration can be reborn out
of death and mourning. As we sing “Siani Thanda
(we love you), Positive or Negative, in our final song and
dance number, our message is simple: together, we can
overcome HIV/AIDS.
Balloon Funeral finale with volunteer in Nhlangano, Swaziland.
Afterwards, the MC of the event approaches Sibusiso and I
to thank us for our participation. “It is so important,
what you are doing,” he tells us. “Bringing
humor into the struggle opens our eyes and our hearts.
People listen and they enjoy themselves. We can laugh
and play and fight HIV at the same time. Thank-you.”
I guess that is what this work is all about. Using laughter
and humor as a means to give people faith in the face of suffering.
To have the strength and hope that their dreams can be achieved.
To see that life is beautiful.
For now, this wonderful collaboration has come to a close
as we are all heading in separate ways. Sibusiso will
support 3 children in school at his homestead. Mancoba
to take a driving course. Pilile to care for her mother.
Khosi to continue learning about youth counseling. Nconbilie
to pursue a life in psychology. Matt is back in New
York City teaching clown and performing with his company,
Under the Table (www.underthetabletheatre.org). Sarah
is leading a group of teenagers to create and perform in California
with Windsor Mountain. I am back in Joburg getting ready
for the next trip as well as a return to the United States
to raise awareness of our work on the West Coast. Another
experience with new challenges to encounter and much more
laughter to spread.
Mancoba, Sarah, Sibusiso, and Jamie outside SIbusiso’s
house.
Thanks so much for all your wonderful responses while on the
road. They have been heartwarming, inspiring, and so
supportive!
May you be full of peace and happiness,
Jamie
PS – If you want to support the expedition and help
us continue to do our work providing laughter and emotional
relief to children affected by HIV/AIDS in Southern Africa,
you can always send a tax deductible donation made out to
“Clowns Without Borders” with “Project Njabulo”
in the memo to 21 Arnoldale Rd., West Hartford, CT 06119.
We are also always looking for places to visit in the US to
raise awareness and funds and would love to come to your hometown
to spread the word!
Children at SOS Village in Mbabane mimicking the “Butt
Tunnel Telescope Routine.”
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Pilile and I wake up very early on a lazy Sunday morning.
I still feel queasy from a stomach virus but my fever has
subsided. We have a quick breakfast and slip outside into
the rising sun and dust. Pilile has heard that her mother
was admitted to the Piggs Peak hospital yesterday so we are
heading up to check on her and see how she is doing. As we
drive through the beautiful hills of Swaziland, passing morning
churchgoers and cattle, Pilile tells me that her mother, Monicah,
has come home but has a bad case of Tuberculosis that has
exacerbated in the cold winds of oncoming winter. She is on
anti-retrovirus (ARVs) medication for HIV as well as the first
round of TB treatment. It has been difficult for Pilile to
leave Piggs Peak for a week to perform with us as she is her
mother’s primary caregiver. Thabila, her sister, has
been helping her out buying groceries and checking in. I later
learn that since she is mostly confined to their home, Monicah
takes care of Guduza, Pilile’s 3 year old boy.
We drive through the now very familiar main street of Piggs
Peak and turn off onto a dirt road after the last store. Piggs
Peak is a timber town in northwestern Swaziland high in the
hills about an hour from Mbabane. Most people here work for
one of the South African timber companies that own the factory
forests that surround the town. Negotiating some bumpy terrain,
our vehicle pulls up outside a cluster of mud homes with corrugated
tin roofs – Pilile’s home. She greets the neighbors
who are surprised to see her before the end of the tour. We
then enter her home where her mom has been resting. It is
very cold this morning. Even inside, the wind cuts through
the cracks of the two room house chilling us to the bone.
The ground is shrink wrapped with white plastic over mud.
Three beds crowd a makeshift kitchen counter in the front
room. Water jugs lie near the door to be carried 100 feet
to a nearby communal pump. A window struggles to fight back
the wind that pushes against the clear plastic panes. Monicah
sits on one of beds in an old coat that is ripped in many
places. She exclaims with pleasure at the sight of her eldest
daughter – it is an unexpected delight after a very
difficult day yesterday. They talk for a couple minutes in
siSwati about the hospital visit Thankfully, she is feeling
better though her cough persists. Last night the whole family
hid under a table from the mountain winds. I can only think
that this is probably one of the worst living situations for
someone with TB and HIV. It is enough to be sick without having
to fend off the cold.
The conversation turns to a polite English to accommodate
the Western visitor who sits a little uncomfortably on a bed.
Monicah asks me how Pilile is doing in with the tour. I tell
her that she is doing wonderfully as the Boss Clown of the
show, “Madam!,” and that the Statue Routine with
Sibusiso and Matt is one of our funniest sketches. Even though
Pilile has never acted before this week and still has a lot
to learn about theatre, she makes great strides each day with
her amazing fire when on stage and ability to knock an audience
silly with one wide-eyed look. She absolutely loves clowning!
Reaching into a black shopping bag, Pilile shows her mother
a pair of blue sequined shoes bought in Mbabane for Mother’s
Day. “They are for going for church and hospital,”
she tells her. Monicah loves them and instantly takes her
slippers off to strut around the room. “Ay, kuhle! (their
so pretty),” I say in my basic siSwati. We clap a rhythm
while she dances in delight.
Suddenly, the door swings open and Guduza bursts in with a
big hug for his mom. She wipes the endless stream of mucus
from his nose and immediately starts smothering him with motherly
love. “He is closer to his grandmother but he is still
my boy,” she tells me. I show Guduza a little sleight
of hand magic and some basic juggling. He is shy but slowly
opens up with a big smile hiding from between his mother’s
legs. After about another 15 minutes of quiet conversation
and games with a few of the red noses I brought with me, Pilile
tells me it is time to go back to Mbabane. “I am now
relieved even after a quick visit.” There is a march
organized by the World Food Program for orphans and vulnerable
children that we want to join if we arrive in time. The children
from the SOS Children’s Village are performing their
traditional dances and songs in the big square downtown –
it would be lovely to see them.
As we leave Pilile and Monicah’s home, I pause at the
door and send a silent prayer for a less biting wind tonight.
I know it probably will not be answered but at least there
is hope. On the way out of town, we swing by the Score Supermarket
to buy Monicah a big chicken, some pap, chips, and high-Vitamin
C juice for dinner. We end up getting a huge bag of chicken
wings and breasts for a stew to last her the week until Pilile
returns.
Later, Pilile tells me that she is so happy we were able to
visit. Usually a reticent, proud and strong woman, she laughs
tonight more then ever before with the rest of the group.
She also volunteers to become team Time Keeper giving us warnings
on departures and schedules. It is a different woman from
the one yesterday who was quiet and worried. On this day off,
I guess we have taken a simpler path in providing emotional
and physical support to those who need it most. Just a friendly
visit and some good food to warm the body and the soul.
From Jamie:
May 20th
It is Saturday, late morning, here in Mbabane, the capital
of Swaziland – our first day off after 2 weeks of training
and performing. The autumn air is sharp and crisp with
the sunshine casting beautiful shadows on the surrounding
hills near the SOS Children’s Village where we are staying.
I am sitting on my bed with the shivers from a little stomach
flu as I try to catch up on the work that has piled up over
the week. In the other room, Sarah Liane Foster and
Matt Chapman play hot dice with our siSwati partners of the
Piggs Peak Clowns Initiative, Sibusiso, Mancoba, Nconbile,
Pilile, and Kosi. The sounds of the dice hitting the
table and roars of “Nothing!” tell me that the
group is grateful for a day of rest. Our schedule has
been grueling from the time we arrived in Piggs Peak to yesterday
when we performed 3 shows for children in nearby primary schools.
In the last 5 days, we have done 11 performances around Mbabane
at Drop-in Centres, primary schools, and high schools.
Our focus on this expedition is quite different from previous
trips when we could afford to devote our energies entirely
to working with the children. Beyond the routine of
the shows and rehearsals, a lot of our time is spent developing
group dynamics, teaching clown technique and stagecraft, and
managing the logistics of feeding and organizing 8 performers.
We are collaborating with more siSwatis than expected –
Sibusiso, the group leader, has organized a troupe of 7 performers
that have been rehearsing and practicing three days a week
for the past month. While we would have loved to bring
everyone along, we have been limited by our means of transportation.
Thankfully, a wonderful donation of a Nissan pickup truck
from Imperial Car Rental has allowed us to take five siSwati
performers with us from Piggs Peak.
All of our partners have been affected by the HIV/AIDS epidemic
in one way or another. Death is a reality here.
One has lost 2 brothers in the past year, another takes care
of her sick mother at home in Piggs Peak, yet another is positive
with HIV. Although their experience performing is limited
by opportunities and education, their desire to use the clown
and laughter to address the crisis is very strong. Pilile
tells me that there is nothing she wants to do more than to
raise awareness about the virus and prevention – it
is her life’s work.
Our first week is focused on rehearsing our show and creating
a common understanding of our intentions and purpose. Matt
and Sarah facilitate many “Getting-to-know” the
group games. Garth, our South African partner and all-round
genius at clowning, costume-design, cooking, and scrabble,
teaches juggling to Mancoba and Kosi who pick it up very quickly.
We share routines and work to create a show with themes of
HIV/AIDS prevention and psychosocial support. However,
the main thrust of our show is a celebration of fun and laughter
as well as playing with the inherent comedy found in a multi-national
and racial group working together. We would have loved
to develop more direct routines about HIV/AIDS but have had
to make allowances due to the short time we have together.
Nevertheless, it is our hope that the group will take from
the experience of creating and performing new material so
that the work of Clowns Without Borders can continue after
we leave.
There is certainly a lot to learn! Comic timing, awareness
on stage, playing a character, vocal projection, working with
a volunteer, directing the audience’s focus, and being
a clown are all new concepts to many of them. At the
same time, we are learning so much about siSwati culture,
gender dynamics, and language. When we sit around the
dinner table eating a Thanksgiving-style meal each night and
laughing at each other’s quirks and jokes, I feel that
we are making great strides in bridging two very different
worlds united together for the purpose of bringing happiness
to those in need.
In Mbabane, it is lovely to revisit many of the schools we
performed at last year. The children seem to appreciate
the biracial makeup of the group and respond positively to
the mixture of siSwati language, culture, and classical Western
comedy routines – something never seen before in Swaziland.
Our return to the SACRO Drop-in Centre for a morning show
for street children is greeted with hugs and kisses from the
community social workers. “Siyabonga for coming back!”
they tell us. Many of the youth that Tim and I taught juggling
outside the SOS cottage still remember their three ball tricks
and cluster around Mancoba to learn some more. Boys
and girls shout out “Awoogah!, awoogah!” when
we pass them in the streets. What new catch phrases
will they pickup after this visit?
We close out our residency in Mbabane with a final farewell
show for the children at SOS Children’s Village. As
the setting sun shoots pink and purple rays into the dust
filled evening, about 50 children huddle together in the twilight.
They gasp at the gigantic bubbles Kosi conjures with a wand
to begin the show, echoe Matt’s attempt at pronouncing
“akuhlobe” (clean it up) and “ngiyabuya”
(I will return) with shrieks of laughter, cackle at Sibusiso’s
offering of a rubber chicken to Nconbile (“Chicken Licken?”)
in our Women’s Empowerment sketch, and blink with amazement
at Sarah’s agility on the stilts chasing after Mancoba.
Afterwards, Sarah and I play music on the banjo and trombone
for at least an hour singing and dancing into the early evening.
After our first week, everything is coming together wonderfully
as an ensemble and a team. This really is a beginning
of something special – something that will continue
to grow and surprise us each day.
From Matt, May 17th:
I am writing from Pigg's Peak, in Swaziland, and I don't
know where to
begin. I suppose it's not even been a couple of
weeks, but time is
dilated to such an extreme point for me at this moment, and
so much
has occured, that it seems to have been much much longer.
We met all together in Johannesburg, South Africa. When
I say "we" at
this point, I'm referring to Sarah, Jamie, and I- the American
clowns
on this expedition. We stayed there for a few days,
staying at the
house of Garth the Juggler, a South African clown and modest
genius
with a small juggling ball factory in the back of his place-
the only
one in all of Africa. The town was pretty interesting;
the remnants
of Apartheid are everywhere, and they are sometimes surprising:
one
day at the grocery store, thunderous applause erupted when
a white
person was arrested for shoplifting...
After gathering supplies and rehearsing, we set out for Swaziland.
For those of you who don't know (and don't feel bad; it's
tiny),
Swaziland is a small landlocked nation mostly surrounded by
South
Africa, and which shares a small border with Mozambique. It
is one of
(I think) two remaining absolute monarchies in the world. The
HIV
rate here is 42% of the adult population, and the life expectancy
is
32.
A midnight flat tire later, we arrived and have been here
for five
days since. We are working on the show here, collaborating
with a
troupe of Siswati clowns who live in the area, and who use
clowning to
educate kids about HIV/AIDS, from prevention to treatment
to
destigmatization. They had such an intention to
get the information
out to the youth (some of them are peer educators on the topic),
that
we began making the show centered around helping them do that.
Before we got here, we didn't know how many of them would
really be
able to participate. We had to wait and see what
the deal was going
to be upon arrival. As it turned out, there were
several of them, and
they were all completely excited. Our focus as
a team turned from
making a show for the kids to fusing these companies from
completely
different cultures. We've been working huge long
days, early in the
morning, at a community center in this small town. We
spend the days
working on the show with the Siswati clowns, learning about
Swazi
culture from them, and helping them with their acts... technique,
juggling, stilt walking... they are incredible
and so talented.
Clown, and even performance, are new to several of them, and
it's
great to see them come so far in just a few days.
Working so closely with them has been so illuminating. They
are
living in a COMPLETELY different life situation than we have
been, and
we meet together in a love of laughter and a desire to play
together
and bring this work to these kids whose lives are so full
of pain,
loss, and difficulty.
I know I sound corny and cliche, but the fact is that so many
of my
realizations and observations since arrival fall into that
category,
and I've given up trying to rephrase it all, or to make it
sound more
jaded or whatever it would take to say what I'm feeling in
any other
way.
After working with the Siswati clowns for a couple of days
(two of
whom have CLICK SOUNDS in their NAMES, which makes them hard
to
remember, and even more difficult for white people to pronounce),
we
realized some things about their situation. The
unemployment rate
here is at least 40%. Some of the nieghborhoods
have no water or
electricity. Some of the actors are walking miles
to get to a bus to
take them into the town every morning so they can do this
work.
Several of them are extremely poor, and we realized that we
had to
bring breakfast to the rehearsals if we wanted them to have
food; it
just isn't available to them otherwise. One of
them lost 3 brothers
last year (at least 2 to AIDS), another lost 2
siblings, and that's
just the ones I've heard about.
The leader of their group is an amazing man named Sibusiso. He
is
hilarious, and a great member of the ensemble. He's
32 years old, HIV
positive, supports three children, and apparently lives in
something
like a mud shack. He talks about being HIV positive,
which makes him
an absolute anomaly in this place, where few people understand
or talk
about this disease, which is shrouded in myth and prejudice,
and will
soon have killed a massive percentage of the population.
Even though this death and poverty surrounds them, the people
here are
so open and friendly; everyone smiles and everyone has welcomed
us in
with open hearts. The actors have put so much energy
into this
project, and we are really forming a good little group. On
the road
there will be five of them and three of us, and the gender
balance is
equal. It's a fun mix, and the show should be great.
The kids here are suckers. I guess kids everywhere
are suckers.
Nonetheless, every little kid we walk past- on stilts or in
a clown
nose or with a simple magic trick- just laughs and screams
until we
leave. The shows for hundreds or thousands of them
should be a blast.
We leave tomorrow for Mbabane, the capitol, for three shows
a day for
the next two or three weeks there and in another town called
Nhlangano, which is also difficult to say. I'm
sure that I will be
learning more and we'll be having some incredible experiences
once we
get out to the kids, and I'll let you all know how it goes.
Thank you all for all of your continuing support.
peace.
Matt
From Sarah
Date: May 16, 2006 8:40:57 AM PDT
Hello from hilly Swaziland!
I'm here on an expedition with Clowns Without Borders.
Swaziland is a tiny, landlocked country that borders
South Africa to the west and Mozambique to the east.
Out of the population of 1 million, an estimated 42%
are HIV positive, and the life expectancy is 32. Many
of the people we meet here, some of whom we're working
and performing with, live in extreme poverty, and have
lost many family members to disease and accidents. In
the face of all of this, the people we meet are almost
across the board extremely warm and welcoming, ready
to play.
It’s been about a week since we drove late at night
into Pigg’s Peak, Swaziland – 3 of us from the
United
States plus Garth, a South African juggler, magician,
and humble genius of circus skills. It had been
tricky to communicate in advance with the siSwati
clowns who were to collaborate with us. Sibusiso, our
main contact, who Jamie met on an expedition last
year, does not have email or a consistent phone. We
went to sleep, 2 of us in the office of our host
organization and 2 at the orphanage they run down the
road, not knowing how many clowns the next day would
bring us. Maybe just Sibusiso … maybe a couple more.
Sibusiso came to meet us at 8:30 the next morning. He
is a small, effusive man with shining eyes. On stage
he is bright and hilarious. Unlike most of the people
of Swaziland who are HIV positive (an estimated 44% of
its 1 million citizens), he is very open about his
disease, and eager to educate others about it. He
has been training and rehearsing 3 times a week with a
group of eight siSwati people who are similarly eager
to perform, entertain, and educate. This is a larger
group of collaborators than we expected!
We met with the full group that afternoon and narrowed
it down to a quarum of 5 who could commit to 3 weeks
of rehearsal and performance. They have very little
experience - some have never performed at all. And so
the focus of our expedition shifted somewhat. Now,
along with the mission of entertaining children,
helping to relieve trauma through laughter, we have an
added mission of training a group of siSwati
performers in clowning and performance.
We are teaching routines and principles of clowning,
and learning more than I can describe from this group.
Words in English and siSwati fly through the air, as
do bubbles, and people (since our basic acrobatics
workshop). Two of the siSwati women have learned to
walk on stilts now. I walked next to Ncobile as she
struggled with fear and walked 7 feet tall down the
road. "Sing me a song," she says. I start singing
and she joins in in harmony. Pilile, who flat out
refused to touch a stilt at first, now walks around
shouting "I am the tallest woman in Swaziland."
Women's empowerment is a huge issue in this country -
men can have many wives (the king has at least 10);
women must never wear pants once they are married;
wives are often thrown out of the house if they even
go and get tested for HIV. So it is good to have a
couple of siSwati women walking 7 feet tall. In the
show we built together, the female clowns almost
always have higher status than the men. When Pilile
hands Matt and Sibusiso dusters and orders them to
clean, the crowd goes wild.
We are on the road now, performing 2-3 shows a day at
elementary schools and orphanages. It's mad and hard
and hilarious. I'll write more soon.
Be well,
Sarah
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