God Wears Nail Polish

Yes, I did steal this title from Rob Bell.

I have what
Kate calls “my own little ministry” here in Nsoko. It evolved quite organically
and it’s one of my favorite past times here. One day I saw little Ndu, PG’S
four year old son, playing in the gravel outside our house. He’s ridiculously
cute so I decided I would go outside and hang out with him. He had this old,
almost used up pink marker in his hand and was using it as an airplane. As soon
as I got out there though he held it up excitedly and yelled “this!” His
English vocabulary consists of this, this one, yes, no, and what is this. All
said with a lisp. “This?” I asked. “Yes, this.” He said, and proceeded to try
and color my fingernails with the marker. I understood. So Ndu and I sat on the
gravel and I colored all of his nails with the left over pink marker. His toes
were next. I laughed the whole time and reminisced on when I would dress up my
little brother Eli in my pink Barbie dress and make him use my play vacuum. He
loved it, simply because I was his older sister and I told him to. I figured
this was the case with Ndu. His hero in life, next to Spiderman, is his older
sister Nothando. However, as I soon
found out, this was not the case. Swazis, both male and female, purely love to
have their nails painted.

                I was outside one hot day, sitting with the kids who
are always hanging around the care point. None of them really speak English,
and I could tell they were bored, so I was trying to think of something fun to
do with them that wouldn’t involve leaving the shaded porch. Of course, cutex. That’s
what they call nail polish. I figured the little girls would get a kick out of
it, and the boys… well, they could watch. But when I came back kids started
flocking to me from all over the care point. The little boys were almost more
excited than the girls. I opened the bottle and started to paint one miniature
hand at a time. Their nails were filthy, but you couldn’t tell once they were
covered in the hot pink polish. Even the older boys wanted in on the action,
but unlike the others they only wanted their pinky nails painted. Who knows.
Since that day I have painted probably hundreds of tiny fingers. My bottle is
now empty and there are little Swazi’s running around looking quite glamorous.

                Every time I pulled out that bottle of nail polish
and set to work, I wonder why it is that these kids love getting their nails
painted so much. I mean, little American girls think it’s fun, but it doesn’t
compare with the Swazis’ enthusiasm. The fact that the boys are so eager to
join in is what really intrigued me. After pondering all the possible
explanations and listening to a chapter of a Rob Bell book on Kate’s laptop, I
realized that it’s a simple answer really. They like it because it’s beautiful.
They like it because it makes them beautiful. This region of Swaziland is one
of the poorest. Virtually the only jobs to be had around here are meager paying
jobs in the sugar cane and citrus fields. As a result, the vast majority of the
people here are poor. Not just poor, but really
poor. The kids all wear dirty, dirty clothes that don’t fit and are covered in
holes. They don’t have enough water to bathe regularly. Many have probably
never seen a toothbrush. They have sores, scars, and burns all over their skin.
The long to be pretty, even the boys. They long for something to make them feel
like they aren’t just kids destined for thievery and prostitution. And here I
am, some random American girl, who makes their fingernails shiny and pink.