I join them at a table in the corner, where they are halfway through a bottle of South African red.
One of my friends introduces me to Sifiso, a young man who plays for a professional soccer team in Mbabane.
He is head of state and appoints the country's prime ministers and a number of representatives of both chambers (Senate and House of Assembly) in the country's parliament.
I’m not sure if I really believe this reasoning for objectifying women, but I suppose it explains why almost every male in Swaziland, from the toothless old man who sells firewood to the boys who come by my apartment to borrow my soccer ball, feels obligated to hit on me.
And I guess it shouldn’t be too surprising that this is the norm—the King sets an effective example by boasting 13 wives and consistently defending polygamy. Simelane, I drive to Café Lingo, a new restaurant in downtown Mbabane to meet a few girlfriends.
And now, ironically, what may have been his finest attribute when I first met him Great article.
My wife and I have been following your blog for a while and have really enjoyed reading it (Loved your recent piece on Red Okra weddings).
But slowly I begin to realize that he may want something more out of our friendship. He sends me text messages that say, “I miz u” when I haven’t seen him for a few days.