Swaziland.
This word, this name, is forever changed in my mind.
This country is unlike any country. But not because of its beauty that is displayed by its wondrous mountains, animal life, and grasslands. It’s not because of the culture and people. But it’s because of the horror that dwells within her. You won’t think its real when I tell you. You’ll probably think there’s more hints of exaggeration and theatricality then truth and reality. But the horrors that I’m faced and challenged with are real. The terrors, the disgust, the tension, the agony, the pain, the death that are in the national borders of Swaziland are real and are happening as we speak. I’ve seen it myself. This is one story the reality that is in Swaziland.
Her name is Namesha. She’s about 12 years old. She was walking to the grocery store. Just like any other time. There was a clear sky like always during the winter time. The sun was out, baking the clay, dusty road that slithered in and out of the Swazi forest. The trees went back and forth, dancing alongside the wind that took it. It was like any ordinary day.
Then a taxi driver pulled over, kidnapped her, brought her into the deep forest, and raped her, and she potentially has HIV/AIDS.
Unfortunately this is a normal story in Swaziland.
There is a rumor birthed by the witchcraft that plagues this country that if you have sexual intercourse with a virgin, your HIV/AIDS will be cured. Those who follow this ritual usually go for young persons so that they may be certain that they are still virgins because promiscuous sex is not only normal, but it’s advocating as “practice for performing for your future spouse.” This story’s victim is Namesha, and it only gets worse.
In Swaziland “culture” (I use that word loosely because I’m in a focused region within the country, the uncertainty of the sum of peoples that hold to this historical belief and the differentiation within traditional beliefs that wrap itself with other variety of religious views) there is a passive, secretive view of the HIV/AIDS epidemic. More then ever, there are many individuals who have this disease. It’s estimated that the existence of Swaziland will come to an end in 2030 and that this nation will be killed off by HIV/AIDS.
I’m living with endangered people in an endangered world where they are waiting to die by this epidemic.
But with nearly everyone with this disease and a country that is at the brink of extinction, one would think that something is being done to stop the epidemic?
But there’s really nothing.
There are organizations that help create awareness, there’s clinics that help give out aspirins, there’s posters from the 1980’s that hang loosely on walls of public bathrooms. But with every poster, every clinic, every Tylenol PM, there’s a witch doctor having people sniff second hand smoke, calling it a cure, and a mad doctor taking advantage of the sedated little girl that goes to get a check-up.
It gets worse.
When the father of Namesha heard of what had happened, he shrugged it off in the name of culture. In Swaziland, children have little to no rights at all. They’re seen more of an irritation more then an investment into the future. It’s common for children to go hungry because the food goes to the father first, then if there is any, the mother, and so on until the least important person, the child. By that time, there is hardly little to any food for them. And in the case of someone picking up your child as they walk down the road and getting raped, it’s okay. The gentleman just needed to “relieve” himself and used your daughter for assistance. It’s completely fine…
Namesha has been traumatized. When she returned to school, she was violent, hitting others in fits of rage. When tested by a private doctor, she would blush and giggle when asked about whether or not she’s had sex after this event, as if she was accustomed the image of a man undressing himself before her; as if this wasn’t the last time she’s encountered such a situation. She’s been kicked out of school, the only hope for a better future, has HIV, and stays around the house with her dad, often wondering off to who knows where.
No one in Swaziland acknowledges HIV/AIDS. It wasn’t till recently that the king, with his 14 wives and 30 children, acknowledged that there was an epidemic. You don’t talk about it, don’t get tested, don’t get treated, unless you go to the witch doctor who will steal your money, give you counter-active “medication” that eliminates the symptoms for a time being while it destroys the prescribed, authentic medication that you’ve gotten from the clinic, if you even went. HIV/AIDS is spreading rapidly, “culture” allows the rape of innocent children because, and the future of a nation is declining to a seemingly imminent destruction and end.
It was a Tuesday when I first saw Namesha. I was riding in the back of my contact’s car. We were driving down the dirt road. My contact pointed towards the other side of the road, spoke her name, and I looked up, catching her eyes with mine. She smiled. An innocent smile. A baby’s face.
This is just one story.
God help Swaziland.
