Kingdom of eSwatini
November 2025
When my plane touched down, I was trying to figure out which way was up on an inconveniently folded, hand-scrawled map. I came to this place in search of riches. Only to learn that Swazi Gold wasn’t the secret to making Forbes’ list.
Too broke to leave the country, I strolled the streets, then noticed a choppy line of people streaming over the South African border. Just get your picture taken and you’re in, apparently. I let the crowd sweep me away. The bustle was terrific. People were darting in and out of shops and stalls, grabbing fish steaks and tossing concrete blocks over the heads of unwary passersby. The clink of btc mingled with the angry mutterings of those who arrived a little too late for a bargain. Clanging from nearby factories rang out over the hum of conversation and protesting cattle, and gunshots cracked in the distance. I noticed one business that seemed busier than the rest. It had a digital sign over the front door that displayed headlines from recently published articles. People rushed in with their computer cases and a look of wisdom, then rushed out either with btc and a look of elation or without btc and a haggard visage.
I decided to visit the equipment market and get some gear to protect myself. As I rounded a corner, I bumped into a big, scary looking man who was gesturing wildly describing the specs of his tank to a friend. Judging by his fists alone I wasn’t going to live long enough to get run over by the tank. Then he broke into a jovial grin.
“We’re on our way to Judge Doof’s for a lekker braai, join us!” The friend chimed in,
“cheer on the Boks.” I couldn’t say no. I just hoped lekker braai wasn’t code for “ritual murder” and tagged along.
“This is Judge Doof’s house?” I asked incredulously as we entered a large, official looking building, with names inscribed in the stone walls.
“Of course not, this is his courthouse” came the reply. Inside, there was smoke everywhere and people lounging about with bottles. A guard with a rifle waved to us and gestured towards the back door. I had never seen a popcorn vending machine in a courtroom before, but this one had 3 of them. Other notable features included a child safety seat in the witness box so that even the youngest citizens could be put on trial, and a series of bullet holes in the ceiling spelling out “JUSTICE FOR SALNI.”
Outside, there was a delicious smell of cooking meat and another crowd. A woman wearing high-heeled combat boots introduced herself with a friendly yet intimidating smile as the Minister of Truth.
“I… like your shoes, Minister.” I stammered.
“Thank you! And just call me Mommy like everyone else,” she responded.
“I’ll try to get used to that ma’am… uh, Mom…” I trailed off but she nodded reassuringly.
There was a reverberating BOOM and the crowd went on alert, to see if they were about to be ordered into battle. But it was just the Judge getting everyone’s attention with his gavel. Alqmyst stood up on the back of a truck and yelled out over the crowd.
“Let the first meeting of the DownSouth Secret Society come to order! Load up your plates with some of this good food and come to the strategy room.”
“How is it a secret society with this big crowd?” I whispered to the Minister of Truth. “And why was I invited???” Someone nearby had overheard and broke in with a laugh.
“It’s secret because even if you know about it, you have to be one of us to understand.” The Minister rolled her eyes.
“You mean it’s because we’re so chaotic, even we don’t know our true plans.”
I filled my plate. If this society knew one thing, it was how to party!