Tell us about your mother!

I occasional throw informal America days. Basically this means nothing significant is going on at my school so I take advantage of the time to go hang out with my students. We pass the time with rapid-fire questions. They ask me about America and I reciprocate with questions about Lesotho. The only problem is they are not great as asking me questions, instead they usually say “tell me about ________.” This makes it difficult for me as they usually pick broad topics leaving me pick a sub-topic. Plus our language barrier requires me to brainstorm an explanation basic enough for them to understand me.

Today it was tell us about your mother. Coincidentally as I was walking to school today I thought about how much my mom would love this country because there are absolutely no birds flying obnoxiously around. I proceeded to tell them about my moms hatred of birds and my conclusion she would is going to love Lesotho. They insisted there are birds here (like I had offended them). I apologized profusely and explained I had not seen any. Then it all came out. “Oh madame, you can’t see them. They are in our stomachs.” Baffled, I was unsure how to respond. They proceeded to explain (and instruct) if I ever see one I am supposed to call them (oh that will be easy since we all have phones!). Apparently they stone and eat the birds they see. Not apparently, a few days later I had a dead bird (we are talking about sparrow type birds) waiting for me on my desk thanks to my students. In class they apologized for the delay and told me when requesting a “deck-dancy (delicacy)” I need to be patient. I never requested anything, especially a dead bird and I am confident I offended them when I refused to take part in the feast. Being the clever students they are they flipped it on me. Clearly I talk about nutrition too much in math seeing that they insisted I should eat the bird for protein. Riiiiiiight, I think I will stick to my eggs and safer subjects too.

Where are the cats?

I interrupt my GRE studying to inform you what just happened as I sat quietly pounding away on my computer (not disturbing anyone) in my dark rondavel. A mouse just ran across my foot. Did you hear my screams? I am pretty sure they reached America! I quickly proceeded to run out of my rondavel to my host family’s house. “Dee-ta-dee ha-ho-lo (lots of rats),” I shrieked. They laughed. Fuming, this is not at all funny. Youngest sister was taking pleasure in watching me make a fool of myself. It is pitch black and sleeting rain. I was barefoot in shorts with no coat on. They were definitely more concerned with my looks than my mice problems. Not even partially kidding.

Obviously, I desperately need a cat. After the disease infested mouse decided to befriend my foot you better believe I will be more persistent than ever about actually getting my cat. Lucky for me I am leaving town tomorrow for a five day sporting event. Can you believe I am accompanying my school on another field trip? I can’t. I am still not fully recovered from the first one. Onwards. They (my family) have been promising me a cat for quite sometime. The plans keep falling through. We need the dogs to be gone. Excuse. The children who deliver cats are in school during the day. After. The kittens are not old enough. Excuse. Following all the empty promises last weekend I decided I was going to take matters into my own hands. I was going to give in and buy poison. All the poison in the world did not kill my kitten size rats in community based training, but I was hoping it could do a number on these little baseball-sized mice.

My host mother and I have discussed how we are against poisoning animals and prefer the more natural process (cat eat mouse). EVERYONE in town knows my host mother and apparently her opinion on poison. The lady at the shop was being fishy about selling me poison. She kept asking me a multitude of endless questions. I frequent this shop and under normal circumstances can’t get the cashier to say a peep. Everything made sense less than two hours later when I got home and my host mother popped in. She (similar to the cashier) was curious what I needed the poison for. I glanced around my hut wondering if I left it out for her to see. Nope. Lesson #83: villagers talk (especially about every movement of the white girl with black dog in tow). I fessed up. Now I am confident she thinks I am a total flake. Say one thing, do the opposite. Actually, maybe after tonights episode she will finally realize I just truly do not like mice.

In all honestly most nights the mice do not bother me. Tonight they crossed the line by a long shot. Now they must die and they will killed in what I can only hope is a gory cat on mouse battle scene. You guys know who I am pulling for. For the most part I take the culture in stride and embrace whatever comes my way. This is one thing I am not budging on, nope not one bit. Mice (and rats) are disgusting any way you slice it.

What is brown and sticky?

I was having a complete off week. Vacation definitely got me out of the swing of things and I have still not fully recovered. I was more forgetful (example: I thought it was Wednesday and completely missed one of my classes because turns out it’s Friday), I had zero control of my classes (that’s pretty standard though), and I apparently can’t teach (or do simple math, seven times six will never be 48). After missing science (oh darn) I stopped in the middle of my next class and cracked a joke, one of my Popsicle stick favorites. I do not expect my students to laugh. They never do. I tell the jokes to make myself laugh. Their English is nowhere near the level it would have to be for them to understand any of the jokes. As if my (stolen) jokes were not funny enough, part of what makes them even more funny is watching how blank my students look when I tell them. They stare at me laughing in utter confusion, again I recite the jokes for me. Then I pick up the lesson right where I left off and they are even more perplexed.

Today was different. One of my students laughed at my joke. I am confident she did not understand the joke. It did not matter, echoes of her laughter turned the whole day around. For the record, maybe I am not funny. I have only found very few Americans who appreciate those jokes the way I do.

While my students may not be in to Popsicle stick jokes the way I am, they dig analogies. They make them up all the time (or use ones I have never heard of) whenever an opportunity to presents itself. Earlier this week my class of 71 was completely silent for all of five seconds, long enough for one of my students to shout out, “madame, we are smoky monkeys!” I was at a loss for words. I started laughing because that is what I do when things do not make sense. The amount of bellyaching laughing I do here is one of the greatest benefits of living in Lesotho. He kept repeating himself, obviously frustrated with my unconcern. After way more than necessary explanation (which is usually protocol in these situations) it clicked, my students were confused. Reading this you are probably able to distinguish exactly what a smoky money is. Please understand my laughing started an uproar of 71 (average age 15 year olds) shouting explanations in accents that are extremely difficult to decipher.

I may not teach a lot. Actually I teach a lot. My students may not understand enough to learn
any concepts in eight-grade math. On the other hand we have a LOT of fun. My students are a riot and incredible for my ego.

Answer: A Stick

Five Month Reflections

If you do not want the dissertation, read the chapter titles.

Chapter 1: Why am I here? Good question. Most days I wonder that too. I wonder that when I walk home from school, I wonder that when I eat popcorn for dinner the third night in a row, I wonder that when I get up at 5:30 AM each morning, and I wonder that when I feel like I am not making progress. I love it here and I do not want to leave (as least not any time soon), but I feel like I should be doing more. I either try and fail or lack the education for the magnificent schemes I have in mind.

Chapter 2: More experience, more education necessary. I am the 3^rd youngest volunteer of 80. Maybe you are as surprised as I was to learn that most, the grand majority of Peace Corps volunteers are not fresh out of college. A typical Peace Corps volunteer has worked for a few years (at least) and have experience in the various fields they serve. I have learned so much about the developing world by simply living here. That’s great because learning is fun no matter how old you are. On the flip side, I am a do-er. But in order to do anything I realize I need a lot more education to make any project truly grand or sustainable and a few years working experience would be an additional bonus. Turns out, this saving the world is tough!

Chapter 3: The developing world and what I have learned. For a project in the developing world to be successful it takes a very specific focus, a lot of research and education, support from the village/community, a lot of aid money funneled into the hands of the right people, and a long time. I only have 27 months and I have already burned through five of them. How will I ever make any changes? The Basotho are encouraging me to do so much. Limited education. The fact I am not a walking dollar/rand/maluti sign despite the fact I am white and foreign. New day, New hurdle.

Chapter 4: Problems, Basotho wants and work ethic. In America we are brainwashed into thinking if you work hard you can make anything happen or you will get ahead. I do not completely agree with the previous statement, nevertheless, here it is just the opposite. The projects I feel we (as a school, village) should work toward require dedication, excitement, motivation, and time. They also require decent amounts of money, which is not coming from any wallet I own. Call me horrible! My opinion: throwing money at your problems does not solve them, EVER. There are so many good ideas for projects but no one wants to step up to the plate and work. The aid money being poured into this country makes it easier to sit back and do nothing than get up and work. If you sit around aid money will feed you and your family. Charity can creates laziness. Too bad I lack the skill set to build a kitchen on my own, design a library (without the help of African Library Project), or start up a confidentiality clinic.

Chapter 5: I can teach and education is important. By attending school in America I definitely feel qualified to teach (in Lesotho). I can educate my students in math, science, environmental studies, and life-skills all day long. I recognize education is the key to success (as overused as that statement may be). I mentioned I lack the education to do all the projects I want to accomplish, and I am a daily witness as to what happens when a society is uneducated. Therefore educating and believing in these children alone is imperative to their well-being. Teaching is not enough, at least for me. I am a dreamer, an idealist. They want more from me, which in turn makes me, demand more from myself. I will continue to focus on my primary job despite my general hatred of teaching. I will continue to role model positive reinforcement, alternative ways of discipline, the importance of showing work, and the importance of critical thinking in the classroom. My voice might not always be heard, but that hasn’t stopped me from trying in the past.

Chapter 6: Self-gratification. I sent a letter home to a friend recently telling her we do not get to wear bummer stickers on our foreheads with all of our accomplishments. It’s true. As badly as I aspire for my school to have a kitchen, a library, and a clinic where my students can be tested for HIV/AIDS in confidence. Maybe that is not what my community wants from me. Technically, they do want these building to magically appear, but they seem more interested in spending time with me than working with me. I have learned so much about relationships while being here. Perhaps, they just want a teacher and friend. It sounds ridiculous to say I spent 27 months in Lesotho making friends. On the contrary that is such an America attitude. I could argue Lesotho need pizza shops, theme parks, and a beach but you know what, they live each day without it. We can learn a lot by nurturing friendships across socioeconomic and ethnic boundaries.

Chapter 7: I have lot of opinions so I am going to defend the kitchen, library, and clinic regardless of the fact they are looking more impractical with each passing day. It is so critical, to me, that my school gets a kitchen so I can go home knowing my students eat at least one meal a day. The students tell me I am their only hope of survival. They can be a bit dramatic at times. I bet you could not tell. If I can’t help with the kitchen then life-skills will be hitting gardening, tree production, and cooking hard this year. A library would help everyone. The teachers would have additional material for preparing better lesson plans and both the teachers and students could enhance their English quite a bit through reading. A library should be especially enticing because the Basotho see English as a “bridge” to opportunity. As for the confidentiality at the clinic I am not sure how to tackle that one. It is definitely the most far-fetched. Obviously, I would love to change this, but I am not sure if that is a job for me, seems like I would have to offend a lot of people. I might not know exactly why I am here, but I do know that is NOT why I am here. For your information, we do have a clinic. My students do not feel safe getting tested (for HIV/AIDS) at the clinic because the results are rarely kept to the clinic files. Sigh. In case you did not know there is a huge stigma against people living with HIV/AIDS (it’s global but especially prevalent here).

Chapter 8: Reiteration. I am not giving up. Oh no, no. I am being a temporary realist. I can’t take on the projects without support and help from my school or the village. I can motivate, encourage, and educate. I can assist in projects as a human resource when everyone is willing to chip in as a team. Ultimately, the school is my sponsor. I am here to help and they can use me at their will. I do not have a bank account with unlimited funds to hire workers to build buildings and then chefs to prepare meals. Books are not going to fly themselves over here from America without a little effort on this end first.

Chapter 9: Scrap it all, lets build hiking trails! Another valuable lesson (probably better suited for chapter 3): you can’t come into the developing world and tell them what they need. You can keep a silent list though. And believe me, my silent list is a mile long. It starts with hiking trails. Basotho would laugh in my face if I told them to build hiking trails for a village project. They walk hours upon hours each and every day. Why the hell would they want hiking trails? Coming to Lesotho and hearing about “the mountain kingdom” I thought there was going to be great hiking. There is, except it’s create your own trails hiking which I have come to appreciate minus the few times I have been attacked by bizarre bugs I have yet to identify nesting in bushes I trample over (breathe now, longest run-on ever). The point of my mighty tangent (I am never short for words) is to say there are things you do not know unless you come and live in the villages of this mighty kingdom. Don’t laugh too much; hiking trails actually have a lot of potential. Lesotho, especially my district, is trying to improve their tourism industry. If they set up backpackers and trails they could be onto something.

Chapter 10: Confusion in Peace Corps. My own organization, Peace Corps (for those of you lost in the madness of my thoughts) is quite indecisive. Yes, that same organization whose third goal is “to help promote a better understanding of other people on the part of Americans,” yet made me privatize my blog. Okay, done bashing. After all, I would not be here if it were not for our wonderful US government (who by the way, just gave me a 14% raise and a bike). Some days we are a cross-cultural exchange and some days a development organization. We are human resources who serve in the developing world by “donating” two years of our time. If it is a cross-cultural exchange I think I am doing a really good job. I interact with and learn from the new people I meet every day. I have come to realize what an awesome country America is so I enjoy sharing pictures and stories from home. I work in the schools and live on the level of the people. I have spent ample time integrating into my community. Whenever there is a chance to partake in cultural events I jump at the opportunity. If this is a cross-cultural exchange I will be much more satisfied simply attempting to touch the lives of a few people. Peace Corps as a development organization, I am failing miserably. I do not even know where to begin. How does one human resource tackle a developing country with three months of training? I can show Basotho simple techniques I have found for using what they have to make life work. In general though, they seem to be the ones who have it figured out.

Chapter 11: Conclusion. Well my thoughts still are not organized, but at least they are on paper now. The developing world will continue to throw boulders in my path. No problem, I like climbing. I will evidently do a lot of educating even though I do not enjoy it because I am aware of the potentials of education. I am not here to make myself feel worthy. This is too far a distance to travel for that. Not to mention, America has lots of “worthy” opportunities. I will continue to learn from the friends I have and take time for new ones each day. I will never understand why people are dying of measles, struggling for food, or without shelter with the disgusting about of aid money being shoveled into this country. That is another rant for another day. I will not quit seeing the bigger picture. Each day I will give it my all.

Another Blow

The African Library Project (ALP) is an amazing project that allows people in the states to donate books to Africa at a relatively affordable cost. The project was raved about during our first phase of training. It was something almost every education volunteer took part in. Not only does Lesotho not have ANY books (in Sesotho or English), it was also a great way to get people at home involved in helping our villages. Peace Corps volunteers have brought over 60 libraries to this country in four years, 55 more just arrived in March. Each library is stocked with over 1000 books.

The problem is only about 25 libraries are functioning. As volunteers we are not sure why the libraries are failing. There are many reasons hypothesized as to why the libraries are failing, no exact answer. One of the biggest explanations the ALP team thinks the project is failing is because it is all volunteer driven. We work with someone at home collecting books, we pay for the shipping, we organize the books, we teach them how to use the books, and then we leave. The ALP team has been desperately looking for a Basotho counterpart for quite sometime but to no avail. Volunteer driven projects fail. Peace Corps projects need to be sustainable, this can’t be emphasized enough. Are you sick of that word yet? I sure am! When the Basotho work with you on a project towards a common goal they can take pride in accomplishing the objective.

The project has been suspended to get the now 115 libraries we do have up and running successfully before we add to the problem. It’s unfortunate, but it makes sense. The worst part is they sent all the new education volunteers (that’s me) off to our sites before they suspended the project. We talked to all of our schools about getting libraries and now we have to inform them it’s no longer. Are there other ways to bring books to the country? Yes, I am on it. They are considerable more expensive and mainly financial donations (through Books for Africa). The neat part about ALP is it allowed you to pair with someone you know in America who would then be responsible for collecting 1000 books and 500 dollars (for shipping). It got a lot more people involved—schools, churches, friends, and family. I really hate asking for money. Yes, the money would be going towards books. Writing a check into the oblivion is different from donating some of your favorite childhood books so another child in Lesotho can hopefully enjoy it as much as you did. Sharing books shares experiences.

I want to believe I am different, that I can make a library here work. What if I have the spark and fresh ideas it takes? After promising my students books how can I now deprive them of books? Seriously, I look at my life and think of all the things I had growing up. Then I think, wow, all you (children of Lesotho) want is books. You might eat a slice of bread a day but you want books. In America we ask for game systems, iPods, nice phones, cars, jewelry, name brand clothes, personal computers, TVs for each room in our house. I could go on. The point is, my students want BOOKS! With the suspension of the project it is going to take a miracle to get a library to my school in my two years time. Miracles do happen.

Welcome Home

It was finally time to go back to Thaba Tseka! I was so excited to head back home I hardly slept a wink Tuesday night. The instant I got on the bus I experienced a sudden change of emotions. I felt overwhelmed, scared, and incapable. I wanted to cry. The abrupt change of emotions was unexplainable. After six and a half hours of too much time to think and gorgeous scenery it was time to get off that bus. A short walk from the bus stop I was greeted by J.W.M., a pleasant surprise. He helped me carry my bag, thank goodness because I am not sure how else I was going to get it home. As I mentioned in the previous post (the added bonus) he was here to witness my first glance at Ma-ta-ta.

First the loss of a volunteer, second the library project is cancelled, and third the dog beating. Day after day, challenge after challenge. I calmed Ma-ta-ta and Spads down enough to let me in the door, which to my surprise was unlocked. Fishy? It looked a little different than I remembered. My table, ALL my water buckets, my washing basin, my American knives, my spoons, my plate, my cup, and my Tupperware were all missing. My family had quite obviously inhabited my house while I was away. They even slept in my bed! My electricity, gas, and paraffin were all used.

I felt let down. I have such an incredible relationship with my family. The school pays rent for me to live here. My house is my ONLY personal space. The fact that they came in and made themselves at home was disappointing. I wanted to sit down and journal/blog right then and there, but I have learned so much about myself. I knew I would say things I would regret. Instead Spads and I went out for a long run. My head needed clearing. I came back and talked to my host mother about unrelated issues. I unpacked, cleaned up, and prepared for school. Tomorrow is always a new day!

Thursday I went to school where I was greeted by 200 exams to mark and 200 students who were overly excited to have me back. Afterwards I walked over to closest boy volunteers house to borrow his phone. I called Peace Corps to inform them what happened. My Assistant Peace Corps Director (APCD) was disappointed. In his words, I have one of the best host families, if not the best in the country and if we can’t trust them than none of the families can be trusted.

I called not to get my family in trouble. My site visit is next week and I did not want to wait for PC staff to handle my problems for me. I am more than capable. The call was made for advice on how to approach the situation. I absolutely LOVE my family, and I would hate to damage our relationship. It was important for me to convey I am not upset, but in the future I feel uncomfortable having people use my house while I am away. I was not worried about my stuff AT ALL. Materials are replaceable; friendships are not quite so replaceable. And in case you are wondering after only two days, my things have slowly been finding their way back to my house. Sometimes you give someone an inch (the spare keys) and they go a mile (living in my hut). It makes sense. They had relatives in town for the Easter holiday and I had a spare bed, utensils, and buckets. We all make mistakes. As long as we learn from our mistakes no harm is done. Surprises keep life interesting.

Durban, South Africa

I was not sure how to fill you in on my recent vacation and since I have ample time on this gorgeous fall day I will give you all three versions:

The adventures:

The travel to Durban from Maseru is impossibly long. It took 12 hours from Maseru to Durban and 10 on the way back. On a positive note, due to the upcoming World Cup South Africa's public transportation system is slightly more efficient than Lesotho. We stayed in two awesome hostels. The first was on the Wild Coast about a 50 meter walk from the beach and had an incredibly laid-back atmosphere. There was a ping pong and pool table, a swimming pool with a nice patio set up, and outdoor showers--all for 100 Rand a night. We spent the first day lounging on the beach. The next day we ventured up to Durban Proper where we spent the remainder of the trip lodging in another sweet hostel. This one also had all the accessories, but I found the people at Nomads the best part. They were worldly, sarcastic, down-to-earth, and fun. Plus, they were awful at pool, and we all know how much I like to win! While in Durban we went to Ushaka (a water park) where we rode on the largest water slide in Africa, we attended a rugby game, we enjoyed the the nightlife, we ate Indian food, we went to a mall (wasted day, my opinion), we spent more time on the beach, and we went to an open-air market. All in all the vacation was adventurous and a success considering we went with no plans. It is tough to plan without internet. But lets be honest, plans set you up for failure.

Lessons Learned:

1. For day to day living I choose the city life. Being close to the city means sporting events, more often than not there are things to do, and places to dine. When I go on vacation I prefer to leave the city for more adventured oriented activities (hiking, kayaking, and biking). I enjoy visiting places few people in their lives will ever make it too as oppose to places everyone gets a chance to see. Durban had the city scene. I was able to enjoy myself, but then again I can have fun in my hut alone.

2. From now on I will take independent vacations or travel in groups of two or three. On vacation I like to maximize. In a group of 13 that is difficult. In a group of 13 that refuses to split up that is even more impossible. I could not go off on my own because we had to use incredibly expensive metered taxies (and this vacation was on the government) to get from one location to the next. Not to mention Durban has a high crime rate so it was not safe to travel alone. There was drama, hurt feelings, and a little too much tension for my ideal trip. Live and learn.

3. I miss my friends. My friends and I have common interest. Weird, I know! On vacation we like to do the same things. We enjoy vacationing in the same places. We do not like drama! Their my partners in adventure! How was that for a 3rd grade paragraph?

4. This country (Lesotho) is incredible, you do not need vacation. Everyone is so friendly, people want to help you. You do not have to constantly look over your shoulder or be paranoid about getting mugged. There are no dress codes. In Durban you have to wear close toed shoes in ALL bars/clubs. And I missed the lack of rules in Lesotho. There are absolutely no rules, especially for the white population.

Durban, Zero for Seven:

1. Eat Mexican Food. Not a Mexican Restaurant in sight! Fail.

2. Apple iPod Cord. Attempted. Wrong Mall. Fail.

3. Find a surge protector. Do South African surge protectors exist? Fail.

4. Passport Pictures (needed for visas for upcoming vacations). I used to get annoyed by CVS, Wallgreens, and Eckerds on every street corner. You never know what you have until its gone. Fail.

5. Music on the beach. This goal was lame and should have been easily accomplished. As luck with have it, my iPod was dead throughout the trip. In Lesotho I never get to sit around and listen to my music. Fail.

6. Pedicure. My feet have always been exceptionally dirty. They are even more disgusting in Africa. Fail.

7. Try something new. I went to a rugby game. I have never done that before. However, I was thinking more along the lines of sky diving or worlds largest swing. Half credit.

This Has To Be The End

As I walked into the cage (training center) after traveling 10 hours from Durban to Maseru I was greeted with a lovely welcome home message from closest girl volunteer. While I was away furthering my training and spending blissful hours on the beach my puppy, Ma-ta-ta was at home getting a beating from the “gardener.” She apparently ate one of the chickens. I am not sure if I mentioned in a previous post her name means problems or trouble. Her name fit. The muddy paws, the destroyed crops, the shredding of the family cats, ruining the girls school shoes, choking on plastic juice bottles. Where there is trouble, there is Ma-ta-ta. I definitely set her up for failure, AND she definitely overstepped her boundaries.

I was absolutely not prepared to hear my pal might not be there when I got home. Despite the warning I was not ready for what I awaited me. Had J.W.M. (a volunteer in my district) not been with me I would have burst into tears. Ma-ta-ta’s jaw is completely misaligned. She can’t eat! She can’t bark! She can’t close her mouth! She can’t run! I was only gone 19 days and she has already lost so much weight. One of the biggest cultural differences between where I come from and Lesotho is the treatment of animals. This is yet another perfect example. In America we would do anything at almost any cost to save our pets. That is not the case here. There is nothing I can do and nothing anyone else is even going to attempt to do. It is impractical for me to syringe feed her or try any other techniques. Veterinarians do not exist! Dogs here are not pets.

I wish I could have been there, not to see it but to prevent it. I would have paid for the chicken.

I am in the process of convincing my family to put her to sleep. I can't look at her without wanting to cry. They seem adamantly opposed to my idea because "she can still do her job" (although I question the quality of job she is doing if she can't even attack/bite, let alone bark). No one ever asks for my opinion though, especially here.

Surprisingly she does not seem to be in a lot of pain so we will keep on keeping on until a verdict is reached.