Woman Power in Swaziland: A Myth or a Reality

"Swaziland has a queen mother, but how come women are so powerless?" I am quoting a question I was asked by one of my friends. She elaborated and said we have a queen mother and asked why that power does not filter down to the ordinary Swazi person. In her opinion, almost every girl experiences something close to abuse like close scrutiny and even being coaxed by men in an unwanted way. When I thought about it, I agreed with her. Swaziland has had Queen mothers since the eighteenth century, as the following table shows, yet this power does not trickle down to the ordinary people.

KING AND REIGNING QUEEN MOTHER (YEARS)

1.Ngwane II 1750-1780 *Lakubheka Mdzebele 1780-1815

2.Ndvungunye 1790-1815 *Layaka Ndwandwe
3.Sobhuza I (Somhlolo)1815-1836 *Lojiba Somnjalose Simelane 1836-18404.
4.King Mswati II 1839-1865 *Tsandzile Ndwandwe 1836 1865
5.Ludvonga 1875-1889 Tsandzile Ndwandwe 1868- 1875
Sisile Khumalo
6.Mbandzeni Tibati Nkhambule 1889-1894
7.Ngwane V (Bhunu Mahlokohla) 1890-1899 *Labotsibeni Mdluli
8.King Sobhuza II 1921-1982 Labotsibeni 1899-1921 1021-1925
*Lomawa Ndwandwe
*Nukwase Ndwandwe
Zihlathi Ndwandwe 1957-1975
Seneleleni Ndwandwe 1975?
9.King Mswati III 1986 todate Dzeliwe Shongwe (a)1982-1983
(b) (1982-1985)

* Ntombi Tfwala todate
From this table it is clear that all the women marked with a star were queen mothers and also heads of state. Why then did this power not permeate the society so that women gain power? The answer lies in power that is created within a patriarchal system that has an ideology that does not uphold women. These women fought very hard to keep the country going. Sisile was even killed. It is when we look at the issues of women closely that we can come up with a conclusion on whether Swazi women have power or not. The structuring of the society is deceptive because it gives an impression that women have power. The story on the ground is different. Women suffer abuses from different anges.

I remembered times when men would even clutch your breast or your bottom when they felt like humiliating you. I even remember a very awkward story where I was walking down a street and a man talked to me. I was very adamant that I would not give in to his coaxing. He said something that even shocks me even today. He said as he walked away disappointed, "uzudvwale kantsi unamnandenuka." I was so schocked by how vulgar the metaphor was. I was amazed by how creative the langauge was and how insolent and deprecating the statement was. I have always held back from telling people this story. The fact that it happened near the most learned places in Swaziland even shocked me more. It reminded me that there was a lot of work that women had to do to teach society that there is a need for people to learn to respect women.

I am writing this in order to focus the debate on the issues of women in Swaziland. We have a queen mother, yes, but the power does not filter down to the ordinary person. Women rarely get promotions at work. They do most of the work in the family. These and many other issues need to be addressed by all the people of Swaziland. The rate at which domestic violence has escalated in the past decades also needs to be addressed. The need to educate women and give them a space where they can talk is even more needed with the HIV/AIDS pandemic that is plaguing the society.

I also do not have solutions for these problems, but I am just opening a site where we can talk about the fact that women in Swaziland are in need of support systems, starting in the family to schools and almost any other space where they are found. Swaziland women work very hard. They are at the market selling vegetables and fruits to support their families. They do all kinds of work, but nothing is done to make their plight better. The question is what can be done? What are other people doing? We need to come up with ways to answer these questions. If you would like to begin answering these questions, let me hear from you in your comments. If we do not answer these questions we will be showing some indifference to the status of women even when we can see that something could be done.
Become an enthusiast of women's and girls' issues and change the world. Go to: www.girleffect.org
Signed: Sarah Mkhonza

Short Fiction Showcase: "Tell Me A Lowveld Story for a Story of the Seas"

(Excerpt)

The lowveld sky was blue. The mountains in the distance stood out against the blue sky as if they were imposing themselves, like a greatness that stands forever looking at you. The trees make long shadows that they cast beyond our yard on the northern side of our homestead in the late afternoon. I could see the heat haze in the noontime sun when I got up from my work. I just had one chore to do for the day; prepare for the evening meal. I was washing a three-legged pot, scraping the dark soot from its bottom with a metallic scourer. After rinsing the pot I held it with its legs and threw out the water. Its legs hit the ground with a metallic thud when I put it down. I picked it up and raised its handle and struggled with it to the kitchen. It was too heavy for an eight-year-old, and as I felt it cut my hand, I said to myself, “this is hard work.” I leaned on the door of the kitchen and pulled it in and struggled to put it on the fire. I looked at my hand. It was red, where the handle of the pot had cut into it. I took the water that stood in the corner and poured it into the pot. I watched as its cleanliness settled inside and then pushed the wood together and bent down to fan the fire with my mouth. The red embers glowed and the ash went in all directions. There were ants on one of the pieces of wood. They scattered in all directions when they felt the heat. I stood up, straightened my dress, and wiped my knees.

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Short Fiction showcase: "Eyes Are Moving"

Excerpt

I met Bingo at the railway station in the early seventies. Even as kids we played together. Everybody knew Bingo’s father had come from Lesotho. That is why we called him “Ntate.” Even now, after five years of marriage I still call him Ntate. He still looks as he did years ago.

We used to play at Bingo’s home when we were young. They had all kinds of playthings. Ntate had built them a swing with the tire of an old car. Throughout my early teens I enjoyed this kind of play. We also played in our cardboard box village which we had built just below the pig sty. It is here that I knitted hats with wooden sticks and put them on our wooden dolls. We used to put heaps of cardboard and slide down the slope that was near the rhubarb plants. I remember reading a piece of paper about the first heart transplant that had been performed on one Phillip Bleiberg. Even though the newspaper was old, I read this news as if it was new. I was sitting on bricks near our cardboard house, holding the paper with my right hand. It is here and on this day that Bingo gave me the look that sparked what would become the love affair of the century in Kadake.

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