Sunday, January 31, 2010

Chicken Slaughtering 102

I still do not know if the chicken or the egg came first, but I do know that I took my classes out of order. You slaughter the chicken before you slaughter the sheep. There is a lot less blood, guts, and work involved. It is only a three hour process versus about a seven hour process. The Basotho’s head would probably explode if they saw how CHEAP and ACCESSIBLE chicken was in the states.

Step 1: Catch the chicken. This part is actually more difficult than catching the sheep. Step 2: Slit the neck and let the blood drain out. Completely sever the head.
Step 3: Boil water and let the chicken sit in there for about 2 minutes to loosen up the feathers.
Step 4: Pluck the feathers (what a pain).
Step 5: Turn on the gas stove (remember light the match, then turn on the gas). Hold the chicken above the gas to burn off all the remaining tiny feathers (or your arm hair). 
Step 6: Cut the chicken open and clean each part individually. When the part is clean add to the cooking pan. Everything is cooked together except the intestines.

Step 7: Add the intestines to their own pan for more thorough cooking. Remember, nothing is wasted.
Step 8: Cook in boiling oil AND salt till golden brown.
In America we fight over the leg, here the head is where it’s at. Diversity is a wonderful thing!

Friday, January 29, 2010

The Nightly News

On Generations night I try show up to my host familys house early in order to catch the Rand/Dollar exchange rate (our vacation money is based on it) and the [South African] weather report.
Tonight, before the weather we have some breaking news.
BREAKING NEWS: Disappointed South Africans! BREAKING NEWS: Many South Africans are in shock after learning there is not a HUGE black lake in the middle of their country and instead it is another country, completely landlocked within their own. BREAKING NEWS: The lake has not been the root of all the flooding, thank the rain for that one.
Now for the weather report. Tomorrow looks like cloudy skies, about 78 degrees, with a 90% chance of thunderstorms. For the weekend the forecast it looks clear and windy. After five straight weeks of rain… perhaps, a temporary break? Looks like it is going to be a perfect opportunity for chicken slaughtering and hiking.
In all seriousness, Lesotho has its own news network which they broadcasts across their TVs in their native language (Sesotho). They do not have weather predicting capabilities so the South African weather report is used, where Lesotho is blacked out. Lesotho is the size of Maryland, not that big. You think the South African weather report would cover it or at the very least label it. Nope. Other volunteers have informed me when they have been traveling through South Africa they will tell the Afrikaners they live in Lesotho and they will reply, “where’s that?” Oh, only in your country!

Monday, January 25, 2010

Typical Day

Some might wonder what a typical day in Lesotho is like. Other might not, stop reading. I wake up at 6:00 AM every day thanks to the fluttering flies, the barking dogs, or the mooing cows. I begin the day by sprinting to the latrine. We are not allowed out past dark, not even to use the latrine (safety first), thus leaving my bladder quite full in the morning. After relieving myself, I brush my teeth and make my bed. Not a big deal, I do both those chores every morning in America too… except I have a sink to brush my teeth in and a fitted sheet for my bed. Not here, oh well, after about a day you adjust. Then I put away last nights dinner dishes and continue by making my lunch for school. I get dressed (in one of my three outfits). All that freaking out over packing, what a waste! I have used all of about 8 articles of clothing since arriving here. Once everything is in order I eat breakfast (home-made granola and an apple).

I hit the road at 7:00 AM, arriving at school just in time for the 7:45 AM daily assembly. School begins at 7:00 AM (I refuse to arrive that early) and runs till 4:00 PM. During school, I teach (imagine that) about three and a half hours, I write tons of letters, read about a book a day, listen to the teachers babble in Sesotho, and usually take a couple of short walks. I walk home feeling quite satisfied about my productivity for the day. On the walk home townies are out and about eager for conversation so it takes a tad longer to make it to my final destination.

If a typical day includes bathing (which is does not…but I want to look busy so I am going to proceed) I walk in the door and grab the rug. The rug gets hung on the line and beat with my broom (a great stress reducer). I head in doors, sweep the hut free of all (I wish) dust and hair (which is falling out at an alarming rate). Then I bathe in 2 liters of freezing cold water. After drying and clothing I take the water to the waste water hole usually spilling about half of it on my clean self. When I do not bathe and sweep, I play 44 games of Solitaire or read another book.

Now, it is time to cook dinner. Dinner consists of zucchini and onions cooked in a pan (at least for the past 21 straight days). If there is an art to cutting zucchini and onions, I have mastered it! Then I clean all the utensils I have used for the day, brush my teeth, and use the latrine for the last time of the day. I am still learning the “pee on command technique.” For those who can’t quite get it down, the pee bucket sits empty anxiously waiting to be filled.

At 8:00 PM I join my host family in the house for a family viewing of Generations, a South African soap. The show last all of 30 minutes if things are running on time, yes even the TV can not stick to a schedule. I usually bond with my “sisters” over broken Sesotho for a short while before hitting the sack at 9:00 PM. Sleep, repeat.

Sunday, January 24, 2010

Love and Hate

    Scenes I love:

    · The two year old child walking bare foot, alone one mile along glass covered dirt "roads" to the nearest shop to pick up some eggs!

    · The man walking his horse in suit and tie.

    · The woman in heels on the rough terrain that is Lesotho.

    · The men peeing everywhere in public.

    · The gravel/dirt runway planes land on in my district.

    · Grown Basotho men holding hands. This culture is very affectionate. It is not uncommon that you see two teenage to elderly men holding hands.

    · The stars. When it is not pouring rain the stars here are absolutely incredible. Plus, since I am currently lodging in the southern hemisphere it is a whole new set!

    · Herd Boys wearing underwear and blankets. They look like superheroes, it’s awesome!

    Scenes I Hate:

    · Children eating their notes and my chalk at school. They really are that hungry!

    · Witnessing corporal punishment at school.

    · The rocks that are thrown at dogs.

    · Grannies and children CONSTANTLY asking for candy.

    Saturday, January 23, 2010

    Free Internet? Where?

    I know I sent out an email saying I was not going to have internet until Easter. Peace Corp warned me of this, so I wanted to warn all of you! Well, I really lucked out! My closest volunteer (about a 35 minute walk), R.E. works for World Food Program (WFP) who just so happens to have an office in the Ministry of Education (MOE) building. I am a teacher so I have "access" to this building. Onwards. No one in Lesotho works on Saturday so R.E. told me to go to the MOE and ask the security guard (who does not speak a lick on English) for the WFP key. I asked, she handed over the key. Next step, the computer is going to ask you for a password. All you have to do is press "enter." It worked. I am still amazed, aren't security guards and passwords supposed to prevent people like me from doing things like this? Of course, I do not want access to any of their files and I would never mess up anything on purpose. I simply want an hour of internet a week to get the here and now on all of your lives.

    So here I sit enjoying free internet at a decent pace until my heart is content. Why is free internet so important? It cost 15 rand (or maluti) to use the internet cafe in Thaba Tseka for 15 minutes. On that same computer is takes four minutes to bring up the gmail page and another two to actually sign in, leaving nine minutes left and a very stressed out volunteer. Sometimes it is nice living in a fish bowl.

    I just uploaded six posts. I posted them on the days they were written. It might make sense to read them starting with Sunday, January 17th. The choice is yours, my friend.

    Friday, January 22, 2010

    Do I like my life here?

    Somedays, yes. Somedays, no. This week was really hard. I never actually started teaching until Friday, despite the children showing up on Tuesday. Tuesday was spent "sorting" the students. There are 500 plus students and the entire day was spent dividing them into eleven classes. Not just the entire day Tuesday, part of Wednesday as well. Tuesday, I had brought plenty to do. I wrote four letters and finished New Moon (the second book of the Twilight series... am I really reading this?). Tuesday the rain began.

    On Wednesday, I did not understand what was going on so I went to investigate. There were still 118 students to be "sorted!" Are you kidding me? Is this some sort of joke? I sorted all of those students in 12 minutes (yes, I timed myself). The teachers were in shock, "how did you do that?" You demand fucking order, that is how you do it. Stop the mass choas. So by this time a few of my classes were over, but I could spend the rest of the day teaching. NOT! Now, the students needed books. So many questions... why weren't the teachers who had been playing around in the staff room working on this while students were being "sorted?" Oh wait, you have not learned the word efficiency. Side note: I borrowed a dictionary, looked up efficiency, wrote down the definition, and posted it on the door to the staff room. It humors me. Oh, it's still raining.

    I volunteered to take charge, knowing if I let them do it I would not be teaching until Easter break. It took me half the day on Wednesday and ALL day Thursday working efficiently to get 500 students their books. I will not even begin to tell you what an absolute nightmare this was. I should have turned around and walked out when I opened the door to the classrooms where the books were stored and saw 7000+ "textbooks" lying on the ground. Each student has 15 "textbooks," and about 500 were missing (of course, I did not know which ones). Oh and yes, they "care" about their textbooks so they were all covered in paper, meaning to sort them I had to open each one to discover the title. Rest assured, I will collect the books in December when school ends and properly demonstrate how to another teacher (oh sustainability) how to organize and care for the textbooks so it never takes that much time again!

    Thursday night as I began my walk 45 minute walk home in the rain (yes, it was still raining), two of the teachers accompained me. They complimented me on how hard I worked and how kind I was. I laughed, if they only knew what had been going on in my head all week. Really, though the comments were so welcomed. FINALLY, someone was reaching out to me! I had been greeting them and speaking basic Sesotho with them all week, but I did not think they noticed or cared at all. They did! They went on to tell me the previous volunteer was a little cold and she never learned any Sesotho. The "silent treatment/we only speak Sesotho in the staff room" had not been me at all. It never bothered the previous volunteer because she found her friends elsewhere. They even offered to teach me Sesotho (before I told them the PC would pay them). I want to continue learning the language! I can probably get by without it, however, it brightens the Basotho's day when you speak to them in their language. Plus, my biggest complaint all week has been how lonely I am. If I can speak their language... I can make more friends.

    Things were starting to look up. I learned I am going to be perpetually soaked until the end of Feburary. The rain here is amazing, I do not mind. It just seemed fitting to mention how it was pouring rain during my long week. Drenched, I taught my first class on friday. With 58 students and a very tight classroom I found it incredibly hard to be mobile and keep everyone engaged. I also learned that half of them came from an elementary school where they did not speak English (which is "illegal" in Lesotho, ha, oh accountability) and the other half came from the fifth (who knows how accurate that is) best elementary school in the country. Challenge? Yes!

    I planned a 15 minute activity ("You wake up tomorrow and you are the teacher, what good ideas will you bring to the class") suggested to us during training. The assignment was get in groups of five, spend five minutes discussing, and pick someone to present to the class. The purpose behind this activity is to learn what students expect from you as a teacher. Well, it took the entire 40 minute period (for serveral reasons). One being they did not know what a group of five was. Another, what does "present" mean? So many more reasons too. That is definitely a flaw on my part (and the Peace Corp), we practice taught at one of the best high schools in the country... and now reality. I felt like I was doing everything right or at least trying everything, but they still weren't grasping the concept. I refuse to lecture to them for the next two years. They are going to learn about student-centered learning whether it kills me (or them) or not. A few groups, 3 out of 11 were able to present their ideas at the end of class. All three groups responded, "a good teacher does not shout and practices corporal punishment." I am sure I hid my facial expressions well. Not. You are so brainwashed, you want me to beat you? Needless to say, I readjusted for my next couple of classes.

    I think I can. I think I can.

    Thursday, January 21, 2010

    Reverse Psychology

    Lesotho is having the opposite effect on me. I mentioned in my last post I was extremely aware of my water usage here, keeping it to about 30 liters a week for all the “water chores.” Aware is probably the wrong word. In America, I was aware. Remember the girl who showered every other day and kept them to four minutes or less? Say goodbye, she is gone. Granted my water usage here is more of a laze issue. Water is super heavy and the pumps are most frequently dry, so forget it… my dishes, clothes, and I can go dirty. But you just wait till I get home; I am showering EACH AND EVERYDAY until the water runs out.

    And the cheap girl, the one who collected pennies on the side of the road. Say goodbye, she is gone too. When I get home I am spending every penny in that bank account because by golly budgeting for $2.94 a week is rough. Plus, it does not go far. What really is the point of saving? There is time for that later. If I have learned anything from this country so far it is live everyday like it is your last. Better get to spending.

    The health nut? Unfortunately, she has to stick around for the next two years. However, I can promise you after 13 straight days of zucchini and onions for dinner… and what like two years to go? Forget it, she will be gone too! I will come home, and I will sit in my parent’s (love you) kitchen waiting to be served fourth servings of baked ziti and homemade macaroni and cheese! Hand over the [BAG of] chips and [PLATE of] cookies. The Basotho do not know what they are missing, eating the same thing every single day.

    The save the world, R.D.S. there is no need to drive the half mile to my house, girl. Recycle this, recycle that. Well, part of her might be left. She will have just spent the last 27 months BURNING(!!!) her trash. Though, I warn you: clear the roads, I am driving the first car I can get my hands! I might even become a taxi driver.

    Tuesday, January 19, 2010

    My dogS!

    Here in Lesotho, dogs and cats are not pets. Dogs serve to guard the animals (sheeps, goats, cows) and houses while cats serve to keep the rats away. They are pretty good at there jobs, despite the fact their owners never feed them. I guess when rocks are being thrown at you twenty four hours a day, seven days a week you learn to be good at your job. I wish I could teach Basotho to respect their animals, but there ways are so engrained in their heads. Plus, if they treated their dogs and cats more like pets they would be killed by other animals. It's an unfortunate double edge sword. The dogs in this country fight all the time, whether it be with the neighbors dogs or each other (in the case of my four). Needless to say, on top of being scrappy the dogs and cats in this country are pretty mangled.

    I am fortunate(?) to have four dogs. Spads, the mother is a baby making machine. She had nine pups in her last litter (in September), and I am pretty sure she is pregnant AGAIN. She has become my best friend and my biggest enemy. The volunteer before me was "in charge" of her so she is about as American as any dog here can be and still survive. You see, it was great having her (around the house), good for lonely walks, and cuddling, regardless of her fleas. That is where the best friend came in. Then... she started following me EVERYWHERE. For example, she is sitting right here at my feet (inside an important building) as I sit here uploading these post. She follows me into the stores and comes to school with me. The students, my co-workers, and principals think it is hysterical. There is nothing I can do. She will not stay at home! I absolutely refuse to throw rocks at her (or any dog in this country for that matter) so I have embraced it. I am the girl with the tag along dog. Despite the fact that people are laughing at me... I join in. I was embarrassed for all of five minutes, then my sense of humor kicked in. I have learned to love it. They already think I am strange because I am white and I never iron my clothes, so what does it matter I pet my dog and bring her to town?

    She is my enemy because you really can't teach an old dog new tricks. If Spads wants to follow me everywhere, I can't allow to walk in the street or come into my house. As if things were not bad enough this week, imagine her getting hit by a car or infesting my house with fleas? Watching one dog get hit by a car in my life was enough. And if I failed to mention before, I already have massive spiders and gazillion flies inhabiting my house.

    I am not supplementing Spad's food because my host mother is actually decent about feeding her (and she seems to be good at finding it on her own, keep reading), but she also needs to stop getting pregnant because her puppies are starving to death and are terribly behaved. Remember, all the rain and the fact that I have to "look nice" everday. The puppies love to jump all over me with their muddy paws. And finally, their hungry, I understand. The Basotho burn their trash, I understand. Fact: tin cans do not burn, puppies like to gnaw on these cans. This creates a very bloody situation. My final rule: it's not okay to lick me with blood covered mouths. The more they contribute to the laundry pile, the less love they get. If only they read my mind enough to understand there are consequences for their actions.

    To make me love them a whole lot less... they ate my two cats. Yes, you read correctly. I woke up four fully fed dogs, lots of fur, and two cat heads this morning. I am not a cat person at all, but like I said the cats are really good at their job. And as the saying goes when the cats away, the rats play. I have been a witness to the truth of this statement once already in this country. Its beyond true. I had rats (the size of cats) in my community based training and it was not pleasant. I prefer them to stay away. Cats are a lot harder to find in Lesotho, and since I am an America, to me cats and dogs are pets, not something you simply replace. I had only been with those cats all of nine days before they were eaten, but a part of me was crushed when I heard what happened. Hope the icing on my cake tasted nice.

    Oh T.I.A.

    Monday, January 18, 2010

    Miserable Monday

    ...or my first real taste of life as a Basotho? Monday was the first day of school and I was so excited to actually begin teaching. I arrived promptly at 7:45 AM after a 45 minute walk as requested by my principal. It turns out, the students do not actually come to school on the first day. Monday, was simply a day allowing the teachers to get "organized." Boy, do they need it! No big deal, we were going to have a meeting at 8:00 AM and then a full day of scheming. Scheming is essentially busy work. Mind you, on the "first day of school" I still did not know exactly what level of math, science, lifeskills I would be teaching. Instead teaching, having a meeting, or scheming I sat staring at a blank wall listening to the other teachers speak in a language I can't fully comprehend yet, for six and a half hours. To of no fault but my own I did not have a book, paper to write letters, of anything else to keep me occupied. NEVER will I make that mistake again.

    Three hours in I found out exactly what I was going to be teaching. Math to all the eight graders, lifeskills "if I want" during blank periods, and no science. I am not really sure why my school requested another volunteer. They seem to be well staffed in my area. I started to fret, if this is all I am teaching... why am I here, what will I do, blah, blah. After a few hours and a little bit of thinking, I concluded that it will be nice to only teach "half" a day. I am still not convinced teaching is sustainable so it will give me time to work on other projects I find more sustainable. Things like bringing a library to the school, starting a pigery, helping find science equipment, or maybe even hunting down some computers. There is plenty to do, it will just be a matter of meeting the right people. Luckily, I live with a progressive Basotho woman who can hopefully assist.

    The day (by 11:00 AM) had been a real let down. Coming here I wanted to be better at living in the moment, more at peace with life, and here I sat reflecting. First, I could not wait for training to end. Then, I wanted school to start. Now, I actually want to do something. Soon it will be, I can't wait to visit another volunteer. I was frustrating myself. I ate lunch, a good waste of 20 minutes... and quickly began to shed my first African tears. Wow, I am pathetic. Am I really going to give up this easily?

    By 2:30 PM the meeting had finally started. Oh and I had not been lesson planning those past couple of hours because there were no text books or a syllabus in sight... and I can't really remember what exactly I learned in 8th grade. The meeting lasted three hours. Thankfully, the staff actually spoke in English. After, listening to them babble in Sesotho all morning I was really worried. I could have lead the meeting in 45 minutes. It was that pointless. The Basotho have NO SENSE OF ACCOUNTABILITY (you have not heard that before), they are so non-confrontational, and they are NOT problem solvers. We lingered on topics of failing students, no money for the school, and "clashes" in the schedule for the entire meeting. I could tell you my opinions and answers to all those problems, but it probably would not come off very culturally sensitive so I will wait until my emotions have subsided.

    On my 45 minute walk home I did come across my "sister" so it was nice to be able to talk to her. She speaks hardly any English and my Sesotho is still minimal so we laughed a lot. Very healthy.

    This probably does not sound like a miserable day. To me, it was. I realized today I am a major venter. Talking to friends, role models, or my parents when I have a rough day really helps me release and move forward. Well, none of those people are here. I was alone.

    No one told me it was going to be easy.

    Sunday, January 17, 2010

    Brace yourself, you have so much to learn...

    Ownership: One is expected to share, traditionally, one is not to refuse when asked for something. They, however, can assert that they do not have whatever is being requested—regardless of whether they do or not. This is a polite way of refusing. There is a lot of lying… it is kind of unreal. It is also why things NEVER get done. People will tell you they are going to do it to be polite. I find this ever so annoying. Back to borrowing, if a person borrows something, he/she must return it. So if I give you a bowl of maize you better bring me back my bowl of maize when funds are available. The exception to this is money. Money is typically not returned. The logic here is that if one was able to lend it, one did not need it in the first place. Historically white people have always been employed. If a person is employed, they obviously have an income, which means they have money… to “lend.”

    Entertainment: A café is one of the first structures built when designating an area as a growth point. It constitutes the heart of the community, where local men are to meet regularly and have beer. Drinking is an integral part of the culture here. Traditionally, beer was brewed for special occasions such as weddings, any kind of Basotho feast, and funerals. Brewing has become more of a daily practice recently. Intoxication was and still is readily accepted by most. Men drink publicly, and manifest their drunkenness without any social reproff. In their altered state, many men engage in dancing, buying prostitutes, fighting, and physically abusing their women and children. The latter two practices are punishable by law, but such cases are rarely taken to police, and when they are, they are often dismissed as a domestic problem. I will say it a million times over the next two years, THERE IS NO ACCOUNTABILITY IN THIS COUNTRY!!! There are women’s rights groups popping up in Lesotho, unfortunately though, wife beating or even maltreatment of wome is still, for the most part, accepted as the “African way of life.”

    With the introduction of Christianity came the idea of abstinence. Many professed Christian men do not drink, ever. In general, a man drinks to excess or not at all. The idea of the casual drinker has not yet caught on in Lesotho.

    Women are expected to drink privately, when only other women are present. At women’s parties, females are encouraged to drink to excess. In mixed company, however, drunkenness is viewed as degrading. Most of the women found at beer halls or bottle stores are prostitues. If women are seen at such establishments they are generally thought of as such, even though they may not be. With the younger, educated, urban sectors of society it is becoming more acceptable for women to drink publicaly. Women are only subjected to mild harassment in up-scale nightclubs and bars in cities; whereas in high-density rural areas, a young, modern woman may enter a bar without declaring herself a prostitute, but not without being harassed as one.

    When women do drink, they are expected to drink wines diluted in pop, not beer. Beer is for men. Futhermore, because wine is significantly more expensive, they are less financially accessible to most, so therefore less can be drunk. These diluted wines are obviously much less intoxicating as well. Once a woman reaches “granny-time” and beyond and possibly has been widowed, she is freed from many of the restrictions applied to women. Older women do drink beer and even become intoxicated. They are seen discretely sniffing snuff as well. As a side note beer is sold by the quart here, ten rand (or maluti) per quart and you must bring the bottles bag.

    If one chooses not to drink… oh wait who does that? Children start drinking around 13 even though the legal drinking age here is 18. The younger ones spend their time making soccer balls out of plastic bags and kicking them around. They also enjoy tying old rags together and jump-roping. Or they color in the dirt, just like chalk… right?

    Churches are little more than social clubs for many. There are countless denominations of Christianity, each with a different uniform for its churchgoers. Many men attend services, but in general, church going is more of a female-oriented activity. There churches and their members, are very active in the community. Many are involved in development for the area, particularly where there are missionaries posted. In addition to church services on either Saturday or Sunday, there are church meetings during the week and periodic conferences throughout the year. The Basotho love church and they constantly invite me to join them on Sunday. Even the ones who do not attend church declare themselves Christian. The services are over four hours long… so I politely decline. Plus, they are in Sesotho, I am not that fluent yet.

    Vistors are usually treated as Royalty. A visitor is usually someone coming from far away, a neighbor who comes infrequently or for a special occasion, or someone of prominence. It is greatly appreciated when a visitor brings a gift to the family, although it is not required. When the visit has ended, depending on the length and purpose of the visit, the visitor will be generously given something to bring back to his/her home, and then will be accompanied back home. This is despite how little the family may have and the AWFUL horrible bus rides (to accompany someone). As a result of this custom and the fact that close neighbors are treated as family, every time one returns to his/her area of residence, he/she may be asked, “what did you bring (me)?” This is a standard greeting for someone who is returning. It is merely a way of saying did you reach your destination. Or what evidence of souvenir do you have to show that you were actually there? Before I knew this was a standard greeting, I was getting a tad annoyed. Now I simply replay, “I brought myself,” or something ludicrous, like, “I brought you an elephant.” If funds allow, you should, however, bring something (candy or candles) for your friends. It is much appreciated when you share good fortune with friends, much like you would with your family. It is a way of saying, “I consider you part of my family.”

    I am an American: Basotho do not appear as self-conscious about certain issues as do Americans, and vice versa. Quickly devouring food, burping, picking one’s nose and cleaning ears (with pens might I add) in public are not considered rude or out of the ordinary. ON the other hand, eathing without first washing your hands in (dirty) water, not applying lotion (when it is known you can afford it), wearing clothes without ironing them, or not wearing a jacket (when you can afford it, no matter how hot it is) are frowned upon.

    Large protruding stomachs are a sign of wealth for men. Women with large buttocks are considered the most desirable. Petite women are preferred by younger males, while fat females are preferred by older men. Chest and breasts are not sexual focal points. This is pretty awkward and uncomfortable because instead of resting their hands on your arms when they stand incredibly close to you, their hands rest on your chest (or breast in the case of me, a female). It is also preferred that a man be at least five to ten years older than his wife. Women are expected to get married and to wed early in life. I am teaching 8th grade math and my co-worker told me 10-15 will drop out to get married. Granted the age range is like 13-20… I still think that is young. For an unmarried woman to have a baby is an insult, but you still see it ALL the time.

    Dress/Hygiene: In general, Basotho, both men and women ALWAYS look their best. Even in the dustiest of rural areas (where I live), women will wear what Americans may consider semi-formal attire, complete with heels and every once in awhile stockings. I walk through mud, over rocks, and through a river to get to school. I show up in my chacos, my co-workers wear heels. I can’t understand it. I can’t walk in heels in America on level, paved roads. One is expected to dress as well as finances will allow—so a foreign volunteer is expected to dress better, not the same, as their co-workers. Haha! The answer many of your have been dying to know: YES, I do indeed wear a skirt each and every day. I am so used to it now it does not seem weird.

    When a person is married, otherwise at age 21, they are to start following the “dress codes.” Before that short skirts/dresses or other trendy clothes are accepted for youth.

    Smelling good is also a priority. A person is expected to bathe once a day. Now, that doesn’t sound crazy to you Americans, but, here you have to haul your water and warm it up. It is a pain! I bathe once every four days in ice cold water, and I wash my hair once a week. My water pump is super close but that does not make the water lighter or warm. Plus, it is typically dry (despite the MASSIVE amounts of rain we have been getting). I do not know how they do it. Side note: I use half a gallon of water to bathe. I am getting good, practically a pro (or just really dirty).

    This is what I have gathered so far, but we all know the learning never ends.

    Saturday, January 16, 2010

    Basotho Culture

    The lesson has finally come where I am going to teach you about Basotho culutre. Let's begin with personal interaction. The Basotho greet everyone, friend, family, or stranger. A simple hello will not suffice, one must inquire about how the other is doing, the status of health, and the welfare of the family. I really embrace this part of the culture, and I find it greatly helps my Sesotho. You must also greet everyone individually, not as a group.

    Housing: Homes are more like communal villages than individual houses. The heart of the home is the kitchen. It is built first, followed by other rooms when funds allow. The huts are typically made of rocks, logs, and mud. The wealthier families do use bricks. Roofs are made of dried grass (thatch) or tin. I have a thatch roof, thank goodness... much cooler in the summer and warmer in the winter. Oh and it is sooo much quieter! We gets buckets upon buckets of rain in Thaba Tseka, the thatch keeps the noise to a low rumble. Unfortunately, thatch has to be replaced every couple of years. Mine could probably go for some replacing about now, it leaks pretty badly. I don't mind though, it's part of the experience and it beats tin.

    Life revolves around the sun. Right now it is summer, so we wake up at about 5AM and hit the sack at around 8PM. I actually have electricity, but I have been in my home all week and I have only seen about 15 minutes of power. Needless to say, it is pretty unreliable. There is no running water so collecting water at the pump is a social gathering. It is the job of women and children to gather the water. I am using about 30 liters a week for bathing, laundry, dishes, and drinking. I have become extremely conscious/conscience of my water usuage. The pumps run out of water frequently and it is extremely heavy. The women and children can carry the water on their heads... I can't. Lesotho is running out of water and sadly the majority of the people here can't conseptualize the future so there is very little conservation.

    Cleanliness: Despite the dust and amount of walking this country requires the Basotho are SOOO clean. The floors are swept at least once a day, often times upwards of three to five times EACH day. The brooms are made of dried grass (like the roofs) and in my opinion the sweeping is a back breaking job, forget the long handles American brooms have. They even sweep the dirt to make it "smooth." I can't for the life of me wrap my head around this. The floor is mopped and polished every other day. The polish is simply wax from melted candles. When washing dishes there is no rinsing. Simply, place your dish in a water bath and then scrub with soap, and place on a rag for drying.

    Meals/food: An everyday meal consist of Papa (delicious) and vegetable relish (rape, tomatoes, and/or onions) fried in GENEROUS amounts of oil. Meat is a luxury! ALL Basotho love it, very very can actually afford it. There is also wealth associated with rice. You do not drink (any liquid) with your meals. The norm is wash hands, eat until full (or the food is gone), wash hands, and then quickly drink a cup of tea, coffee, or water. Eating in the presence of someone else without inviting him/her to join is considered rude.

    That is about all I can handle for now. Don't worry, I have not even covered Dress/Hygiene (my FAVORITE topics). Love it or hate it, it's tradition!

    Tuesday, January 12, 2010

    My Hut


    The rug has been removed after slipping one too many times! The walls were not decorated by me. The previous volunteer left those for me along with the comforter. I have embraced them and consider adding some of my own creativity to the mix. The comforter is definitely not my style, but I have zero complaints, it was free. Translation: more money for travel.

    Thursday, January 7, 2010

    Swearing In

    I officially became a Peace Corp Volunteer on January 7, 2010.

    Wednesday, January 6, 2010

    Sheep Slaughter 101


    Another CBT incident, sheep slaughtering 101. Peace Corp lies, it is incredibly easy to remain a vegetarian in this country, and in fact most people convert while they are here because on our stipend we are not able to afford meat. On top of being expensive, they will sell animals that died on their own (=super unsafe). My CBT family did not support my vegetarian habit. Meat is a luxury in this country and since I am white I can OBVIOUSLY afford it so why, why, why would I not want to eat it, plus it tastes fabulous. Makes perfect sense, right? It was not that they were at all rude about it, they just found it extremely funny/strange. The street goes both ways, I found their confusion comical as well. In order to get me to eat meat again they slaughtered a sheep in my honor. I beg to differ, that meat was definitely for the Christmas holiday, but again I pretended to believe it was for me. Little did they know that slaughtering a sheep DEFINITELY made me NEVER want to eat meat again. The sound the sheep made as the head was ripped off, the noise of the skin being torn from the body, the number of flies that surround the now dead sheep as intestines were being cut from the body, and the blood, the blood, the blood (there is SOOO much blood). I am so glad I got to witness/help with the sheep slaughtering, but again, my meat eating days are officially gone FOREVER. I am a vegetarian for environmental reasons, but I am sure the sheep was slaughtered in the most humane way… so I can only imagine the process in America. (Pictures to come, probably not for two years, thanks slow terrible internet!)

    Tuesday, January 5, 2010

    T.I.A.

    I never imagine it would be New Years Eve before my first official blog post. Instead of attempting to describe every aspect of my life here I am going to clue you in on a few of my favorite moments. The Basotho have extremely juvenile minds yet they deal with some of the most mature issues. Deal might be an overstatement, suppress more accurately describes how issues are handled. For example, my 23 year old sister, Mathope, from my community based training (CBT) family insisted we sang a song that remains title-less (as not to ruin the song) where you literally repeat the same line as many times as you want, usually upwards of 40 in the case of Mathope and me.

    The song:

    I want to see the butterfly
    I want to see the butterfly
    I want to see the butterfly, the butterfly, the butterfly.
    Na ke rata ho bona serurubella,
    Na ke rata ho bona serurubelle,
    Na ke rata ho bona serurubelle, serurubelle, serurubelle.


    When other volunteers or Basotho neighbors came over to visit we performed. We sang as we cooked, as we cleaned, and as we practiced Sesotho. Now most of you know how wonderful my voice is, potentially the next American Idol. Here my voice is appreciated and worshiped! Oh and they think I am fabulous dancer. Just wait until you see the new moves I have picked up. I can’t begin to explain to you how happy it made my sister when I sang with her. Overall she was probably the most joyful person I have ever come across, still this is like nothing I can explain. I wish I had a recording!

    Thank you so much for your continued support. Please write letters as that seems to be the most effective form of communication at least until Easter.