The king and his 14 wives welcome you!
This weekend I spent less than 48 hours in the Kingdom of Swaziland. Swaziland is a petite country wedged between Mozambique and South Africa and is essentially economically a South African colony, but is politically one of the longest standing absolute monarchies in the world. Before today the king had 13 wives, but apparently after the ceremony I attended he has 14. It is also said to be the country with the highest rate of people getting struck by lightning in the world. So, small country, but packed with fun, right? RIGHT! I had a jolly old time in Swaziland.
The sun rising over Mbabane
The country is naturally beautiful. Entering the country from Mozambique you’re engulfed by rolling hills that look something like the rolling hills along the Northern California coast. As you keep driving you first hit agricultural land that looks like the Argentine pampas and then hit the royal game preserve adorned with a sign reading “pedestrians and cyclists beware of lions and elephants”. Drive a little bit more and the sun goes down, and I have no idea what anything looks like. HA. I arrived to Manzini (the business center of Swaziland) at around 7pm. I quickly hoped on another bus and went to Mbabane the capital of the Kingdom of Swaziland. It took me about 15 minutes of walking up and down steeply graded streets to find a place to stay, the Royal Oak. At this point it was around 8pm and I was getting pretty darn hungry. The guy at the Royal Oak reception walked me down the hill to a restaurant called “mediterranean restaurant”. The outside windows of the the place were completely blacked out and I’m not going to lie, I was a bit scared to go into the place alone. BUT, surprise #1 in Swaziland, I walked in and behind the magic curtain was a projector screen playing the Manchester United x Arsenal game and a gang of Swazi hipsters watching football. Perfect, couldn’t have asked for anything more. I ate a hearty, helping of the house curry, drank an appropriate number of Saturday night beers and watched not only the Man U x Arsenal game, but also the Real Madrid x La Coruna game.
The central bank and the american embassy?
Sunday morning I woke up early, did some reading, threw on the vans and went out for what I thought would be a long day touring around Mbabane. About 20 minutes into my walk I had seen it all, and it was all pretty strange. It is a capital city, but all that was there was a mall, two or three government buildings and several streets with stores. One of the government buildings was the central bank. I definitely wanted to take pictures of this shiny 7 story structure. Okay, two pictures, whatever, lets keep walking and take pictures of the national library. About 30 seconds later I got a tap on the shoulder. I turned around and there was a guy wearing a blue uniform that read “buffalo soldiers” across the chest. He looked pretty official.
“Excuse me sir, one of my superiors saw you taking pictures of this building, that is illegal, you will have to come with me”. Me “Okay” (while thinking “I’m pretty bored in this city, let’s see what this guy’s got for me).
We went into the lobby of the central bank, chatted for a bit, he asked for my passport, he noticed that I was American and asked me if I had been to the 7th and 8th floor before. Me “No, but can I go?”. Buffalo Soldier “It is the American Embassy sir”. Me “Great, I’d love to say hello”. Buffalo Soldier “Okay, one moment let me phone them”. The buffalo soldier talked to somebody at the US embassy I went up there, there was some poor, low-level diplomat in there with a look on her face that said “what the hell am I doing in Swaziland working on a Sunday morning”. I was thinking “I don’t know, but how the hell do you get stationed in the Kingdom of Swaziland”. I took a walk around the embassy and wrote a note to the Ambassador and left a business card. By this point me and buffalo soldier boy were on good terms and our next stop was a walk around the central bank offices. Again I saw faces (Swazi not American) of people that looked like they were really hating themselves for being in the office on Sunday morning, but the walk around the decadent offices wasn’t half bad. At the conclusion of my tour I asked my new friend, Bonginkhosi Dlamini (the buffalo soldier), what else I could do in Swaziland. He looked at me like I was crazy , “Sir, you don’t know that today is the ‘reed dance’, the ceremony where the king will choose his 14th wife?”. Me “No, but now I do, and now I’m going, how do I get there?” After giving me directions, I said goodbye and went in search of this wife picking ceremony.
The king arriving to his wife picking ceremony in his German made charriot
Before going to the ceremony I decided I needed to have a few drinks. A wife picking ceremony doesn’t seem like something you should attend completely sober. A few kilometers before we got to the royal residence I jumped off the bus at a strip mall that looked like it could have been somewhere between Salinas and San Louis Obispo along highway 101. First I took out some Emalangenis from the ATM and then procured a bar. The venue of choice was one of these quasi-British South African joints that really aren’t my thing, but it suited my purpose. I got to work quickly and told the barman to keep the beers coming until I told him to stop . By beer number three I had made friends with a group of black South African businessmen that were also heading to the wife picking ceremony. After a few more beers and the complete removal of any apprehension about attending an African monarch’s wife choosing ceremony I got back on the bus and went to the ceremony.
Some of the Bachelorette:Swaziland contestants
It’s honestly pretty hard to describe what exactly was going on at the royal residence . It appeared that all Swazi women that were of “attractive” age had assembled outside the royal residence, were all topless and were all carrying reeds. At around 2:30pm the young bachelorettes started parading into the stadium area that was set up in front of the royal residence and left there reeds at the foot of the king’s thrown. They sang, they danced, they got hyphy. I on the other hand was getting deep fried by the mountain sun and had to get back to my bus in Manzini by 4pm. So I can’t tell you how the ceremony ended, but I think you and I can both fill in the end of this story with a little imagination. I hope that Mr. King (I don’t even know his name) is resting well tonight with the newest member of his harem!
Good night!
