On correct pronuncation of Swazi Towns

The night before at the bar, Bob, an older Englishman, character and friend of the hostel owner, gave me a long speech on the merits and strenghts of womanhood, on the pain of childbirth, on women who can lift cars off babies and how ambitious and applaudable travelling across Africa by myself was. I tried to get a bit of fresh air by introducing myself to the cute boy across the fire. Joel, from Origen USA, had also come to Swaziland in transit to Mozambique. "Did you come to get your visa?" I asked.
"No I was going to get it at the border" he said.
"Oh no, you dont want to do that" I said, "Its 80 rand in Swazi and twice as much at the border. Also if you dont have your paper work the buses wont wait for you. There's no timetable, the buses leave when there full, so you could be stuck at the border all night" I explained. "The embassy is in Mbabane, the capital, its about 50kms away, im going there tommorow morning, you should come."
"Oh, okay. Um, i guess i should then" said a suprised Joel.
"This is what im talking about" said Bob, "Men would be lost without women, completly lost."

In the morning there was a bus load of backpackers leaving for Joburg, so we hitched a ride to Mbabane with them. I grabbed a map of Swaziland as i ran out the door. The embassy opened at 9, and it only took a few mintues to fill out our forms. "Come back at 2 oclock" said the women at the counter.

We walked into Mbabane, and looked for somewhere to have breakfast. Initally we tried to avoid the big American style mall and go somewhere a little more local, but all the so called resturants were actually just pubs full of drunk men at 9am. They were all really keen for me to stay, except they didn't serve coffee, so i couldn't share thier excitment. We ended up at the mall.

There was still a lot of time left to fill in so Joel suggested we try to find the really nice waterfall he had heard of in Ezulwini Valley, between Mbabane and Manzini, the other major city. "Ive read about the valley and theres no buses there, you have to negotiate with the driver to let you off half way, " i said. But we decide to give it a go anyway.

The word bus conjours something quite different in a westerners mind to an African. A bus in Africa is a white van no larger than the family people mover. Fitted out with extra seats, your often sat 4 or 5 across, 20 or more in a single van. For the sum of about 20 cents, you get exactly what you pay for. Pressed firmly against your fellow passengers for support, as the crazy driver zips around the streets without any acknowlegding any pedestrians, road signs, speed limits, or his oversized load. The destination is displayed verbally, there is a guy sitting next to the driver screaming it out the window. In South Africa, its something not many travellers, including myself, would dare to do. You might get stabbed, or worse. Outside of SA, its the only form of public transport.

In every city there is always an enormous parking lot full of about 100 minibuses and bus touts who yell and yell until there buses are full. It took about 15 mins to find a bus. It may have been quicker if we knew how to pronunce our destination, but we didn't. We were the last two to squeze into the back of the bus before it took off. We chatted to the people we had sat on top of, making sure we were on the right bus and we knew were to get off.

The bus dropped us in the valley and we walked for about 40 mins, taking a few wrong turns, and at one stage i had to leap into the air a few metres, as a baby cow crawling out of the bush startled me, but we finally found Mantenga Nature Reserve.

It was so nice to walk somewhere again. A month in South Africa had seen me catching cabs and avioding the streets for fear of being mugged. I had a nice round belly from the lack of exersize and the prevelence of bars in hostels. It felt great to be out in the open again.

Mantenga Nature Reserve is also home to the Swazi Cultural Village, which meant we had to pay to walk though to the falls. The cultural village is a collection of grass huts that no one really lives in, but by day employees come along dressed in character and play the part of traditional Swazi villagers that you can have your photo taken with. A bit like Disneyland really...

A few metres down the road, a little open air safari van came along and picked us up to drive us to the village about a kilometre down the road. When we got there the driver ushered us into an arena where Swazi performers had begun a song and dance. Dressed in traditional gear with one guy dressed as a lion, they performed "The lion sleeps tonight" and a traditional Swazi song which ended in a conga line were all 6 audience members joined in.

Two Dutch girls from our hostel had just finished looking around the village, so they joined us as we walked to the waterfall. It was a really beautiful area, a huge natural swimming pool, all we needed was a braai (South African BBQ) and a few beers and i would have stayed all day! Joel jumped and climbed around fearlessly on the rocks and ended up actually crawling along the wall and through the waterfall, while i lay down and enjoyed the sun with the girls.

Soon we realised it was ten to two, so we conseeded that we proberbly had to get going since we were half way across the country, and due to pick up our passports in 10 mins, but by this stage i was well acustomed to African time, and the situation didn't faze me. The girls dropped us on the main road, and we wandered along until we flagged down a bus to Mbabane.

At two thirty we strolled up to the gates of the embassy. The first thing i noticed was that they were locked. The second was the opening hours sign, which despite the fact i had spent 45 mins looking at it that morning i was yet to read:
Monday - Thursday 9hrs - 14hrs

But this is Africa. We smiled at the security guard sheepishly and passed our reciepts through the bars and he kindly went to find our documents.

Armed with a visa i had achieved everything I set out to do in Swaziland. We wandered down the highway towards Manzini, and figured we may be able to find some lunch at the markets there.

All the kids seemed to love Joel. As we walked we were followed by a small group of children who yelled and presented him with flowers. When we finally found a bus stop, one kid leaped off the seat to give him a big hug. "Heya, nice to see you too buddy" called a gracious but surprised Joel.

Behind us, despite the fact that we were standing on a fairly deserted highway, was a small stall of crafts.
"Hey Joel, did you say you needed a giant woodern sculpture of a head?" i asked.
"Well actually ive been thinking it might be nice to have with us while we wait" he chuckled. Eventually we got on a bus.

Manzini bus depot was even crazier than the one we had visted in the capital. Twice the size, it was also surrounded by a busy market, and it was very dramatic. Buses to every destination in Swazi, and bus touts determined to either take you there or marry you. We walked into a few resturants and cafes but despite the time and our hunger we couldn't quite bring ourselves to eat any of the food avalible, so instead we decided to head home.

Not so easy. I had a map of Swazi, but no idea where our hostel was. We walked around for ages being lead this way and that by different touts while we looked confused and offered "Matsapha?", or something we imagined as a similar pronuciation.

Eventually one guy assured us we were on the right bus, but a few kilometres down the road a fellow passenger told us that the bus actually went to Matsapha prision, which was a very different place to Matsapha.

I gave up. At that point i had no idea where we were going, but Joel had the map and seemed to be piecing it together pretty well, so i left him to it. After another short bus ride, a lift in a ute, a short walk, and yet another bus, a few hours later Joel managed to get us to the door of our hostel, exhasted but delighted at our conquest of the crazy local bus networks and Africa public transport.

Swaziland is the beer at the end of the day, the time to chill out after a month of travelling tense South Africa. Jumping around in minibuses felt like travelling in Africa should be, navigating the crazy depots, sitting on peoples laps, and mutilpe buses for every turn is how life works here. No timetables and no deadlines.

The whole day i was more relaxed than I felt i had ever been in my whole life. I didn't need to be anywhere, it didn't matter if i got on the wrong bus and ended up looking out the window at the worng mountain. I felt like i had really settled in to Africa, and that from here on, see more of how life really is here, outside of the backpacker bus networks and the organised tours. Im not even worried that ive just been bitten by my first potential malaria carrying mozzie....