Still Standing

Purposely omitted from my description of the track meet was the stoning event that took place between my high school and the near by high school (after my high school kept whippin’ up on them). In all honesty I could not tell one school from the next therefore I have no idea who technically won (the track meet or the stoning). I realize stoning people at your track meet (more importantly being stoned) makes you and the track meet even more hardcore, but hurting others isn’t a way to earn yourself into my hardcore record books. My students have been pelting dogs and birds with stones since they could walk. They are accurate and have a tremendous amount of power, especially when aiming at much slower, larger targets. After a week of talking about the “event” (as we call it at school) I can’t go without filling you in.

The stoning officially comes to an end today. How was this conclusion reached? Standing up, that is for sure. The meeting begun with cultural song and prayer, followed by introductions (all the teachers at my high school and the rival high school, both principals, the equivalent of a district superintendent, the police chief, and two other police officers), and an apology to me that this meeting would be conducted in Sesotho to make sure all points were clear. Ho-lo kee-lae! (It’s okay!) Before the Sesotho started the superintendent told us that is was our responsibility as teachers “to save these children from their animalistic ways.” Insert unnoticeable laugh here. The discussion was off. One hour in I decide it is okay to pull out my book, two hours in I decided it was okay to use the bathroom, three hours in I decided it was okay to write a letter, four hours I decided it was okay to take a five minute walk. Four hours AND forty-two minutes later the verdict: stoning will not be tolerated anywhere anymore. I have no idea what was said during the meeting. I’ll ask tomorrow. It is amazing how much you can learn from observing though. In the beginning it was rival high school standing on one side and my high school on the other (eying each other down, putting our game faces on, the site could have been easily mistakable for pre-battle). I laughed when others were laughing, and I looked up when select words were spoken in English. The best part of the meeting was the closure. Post battle we were all holding hands in one big circle, rotating my high school, rival school, my high school, rival school. Touching. As we all held hands a teacher from the rival high school made an analogy to the coronary artery. He said (in ENGLISH!!!), “holding hands in one circle with no ends symbolizes the coronary artery. The coronary artery supplies the heart and if there is a break in the coronary artery the heart can’t beat.” I could not have put it better myself. Effort was noted. This quote was followed by a singing of kumbiya or a more local anthem (sung in English!!!): “If you and I believe, Africa will be saved. The Holy Spirit will come down and Africa will be saved.” Repeat three times.

IMPORTANT PACKAGE NEWS ALERT:

I know, I know, you hate being told what to do. You like to try things out for yourself, but in this case I might know best. I ask you to put stubbornness aside take my advice. I realize I am considerably younger than those with enough money to spend on packages, I have a lot less worldly wisdom, and my experiences are not as grand as yours.

However, my recent experiences might be enough to convince you:

Case 1: My dear friend J.M.S. sent a package at Christmas full of candy that never arrived. As much as I would kill for some candy, we both decided we hope whoever took it enjoyed it.

Case 2: Today I got a package from my grandparents. I opened it up to find a Russell Stovers heart. Oh boy, this is exciting! When I opened up the heart six candies were missing. Now I realize my grandparents are old, but even at their age I would be really surprised if they ate six and sent the rest. The package had definitely been opened and was then quite obviously stapled back together… which only leaves to me assume the postal workers enjoy a few pieces and decided to wrap it up and send the rest. I am not sure why they did not finish it off. I am even more confused as to why they left the chocolate covered caramel for me. Again, I hope they enjoyed what they devoured.

You can't make this stuff up. This is third world Africa. Please, please, please label your care packages EDUCATIONAL MATERIAL (pens, pencils, paper, books) and smear it with biblical phrases (Jesus loves you, God is watching, Jesus saves).

Field Trip Fiasco

The pounding on my door woke me up at 2:00 AM. Thank goodness because I am not sure the six alarms I had set were going to cut it. By 2:30 AM we (middle sister and I) were riding IN A CAR to school. The walk takes 45 minutes, the drive takes 20. Yes, the roads are that bad. I am not sure why I bothered being punctual, probably has to do with the fact I am an American. When I showed up there were two kombis (vans), we needed ten to leave. By 3:53 AM we were cruising, taking bathroom breaks galore. At 7:00 AM the caravan of ten kombis halted, kombi “No Fear” lost a wheel. All the kombis in this country have hysterical names. After watching nine bo-ntate (grown men) struggle for 45 minutes to change a tire I stepped in. I realize this was a radical move. I am a woman. I changed that tire and we were on our way. You’re shocked? I was too. Who knew I could change a tire? I didn’t, but a little determination goes a long way.

Back on the road at 8:00 AM with a tremendous amount of additional bathroom breaks. Surely we are getting close I thought to myself at 11:30 AM as we sat and waited and sat and waited on the side of the road for kombi “Haho Tatoe” who got lodged into the dirt “road” going down a steep rocky descent. This time the bo-ntate strategically placed several rocks allowing the “Haho Tatoe” to gas itself out of the ditch. Watching this process occur was truly remarkable.
Rocking and rolling at 12:15 PM and safely at our destination at 1:00 PM. I immediately jump out of the kombi and start examining my surroundings. My first observation: all my students are frozen in position in the kombis. Apparently they were too tired to move. I convinced them we did not drive all that way for nothing. We walked down to the “caves” where I proceeded to take 150 individual pictures of my students. Bringing a camera out in public, mistake number 802 I have made in Lesotho. I spent the entire time photographing them and no time looking at the “caves” or the incredible surroundings. And when I thought I was done, my teachers wanted all of their pictures taken… individually.


A camera battery later the teachers (myself guiltily included) were scaling (in the kombis) up the same mountain “HaHo Tatoe” got lodged in coming down. My students were forced to climb up the mountain, apparently they are the reason we got stuck in the first place. After the students finished their hour climb straight up we were movin’ and grovin’ towards our final destination, my bed. Exactly an hour later kombi “More Fire” was coincidently/ironically (R.D.S. I know this is pet peeve #46 but I am not sure which one I am supposed to use, circle the proper word choice now) on fire. We pull over, they evacuate the vehicle, and the front seats are lifted to reveal a burning engine. Smoke fills the air, students disperse in panic, I laugh, the driver cries. There is nothing we can do but practice our patience. FOUR HOURS later we are on the road, kombi “More Fire” is left behind. Now, our kombis meant for 16 passengers are stuffed with 21 passengers. Oh comfort! FOUR MINUTES later we see a KFC and my teachers decide it would be appropriate to take all 150 plus students in. My students had never been to the capital of their country. The concept and taste of KFC was simply mind-boggling.
It is now about 10:36 PM and everyone is loaded back up and we are on the road for approximately two minutes when the driver decides we need petrol, a brief (when compared to other events of the day) 25 minute stop. Now that is shortly after 11:00 PM we are on the road. We chug up and up and up some more. I live way up in the mountains. We do not stop to go to the bathroom; we simply drive UNTIL 3:30 AM when we see a truck jack-knifed into the guardrail preventing vehicles from flying off the mountain. I am still wide-awake! I have a student head asleep on each of my shoulders and another head in my lap. Both the driver and passenger were okay, but their truck definitely was not. The picture shows the truck after we removed it from the guardrail. Since the Basotho are such incredible people all nine kombis stop and help dislodge the truck from the guardrail. Picture 16 people bouncing this truck with all their might until they can pry it loose. The whole process took an hour. Nonstop fascination, pictures (you will never see) galore! We arrive safely at school at 5:30 AM at which point I reunite with my sister for our 45 minute journey home. I am home for approximately 30 minutes when a few volunteers knock on my door, ready for the hike we had been planning for weeks. Sleep or hike? I think you all know what I choose, and it does not require a pillow.
This day does not sound like a blast to you, and it wasn’t exactly a blast for me either. But if you asked me to do it over again, I would say yes in a heartbeat. I became closer to several of my students and even better I got to see my students act like kids—hanging out of the kombi windows, screaming/singing/chanting at the top of their lungs, and laughing with their friends. The way my students act at school I often times feel like I am a military instructor. It was simply refreshing to seem them have fun. The days events were so absurd you have to laugh, otherwise you might cry. In America the amount of time we spent in the car is equal to that of a trip from Clemson, SC to Baltimore, MD and back. Instead we never left a country the size of the state MD. This is Lesotho public transportation. If you do not believe me, come visit and see for yourself.

make it a 4-wheel drive

This beautiful Sunday began (and ended) with the story of public transportation in Lesotho. If Peace Corp officials were with me on public transport today we would all have cars. Around 10AM I set out to pick up a kombi for the two and a half hour journey back to my hut. Five hours later, a kombi (van) showed up. During my wait, two trucks passed me (no luck hitching, both were totally full). Wow, I am isolated. The Kombi might have come at 3PM, bus this is Lesotho where vehicles do not move until they are full. Luckily, we only waited 30 minutes for the kombi to fill up. I am incredibly thankful the time was so short; the wait can be longer than two hours. We drive about 30 minutes and stop for an hour for unexplained reason to me. Sit. Pace. Sit. Pace. Come to find out we stopped so my driver could consume past the legal limit of alcohol. I am 30 minutes from my starting point, and two hours from my destination. It’s 5PM, the daylight will be gone in a little over two hours. I have no choice but to continue. Picture curvy, dirt, mountainous roads with no guardrails and steep cliffs… all with an intoxicated driver. Part of the experience? May be a part, not a part I enjoyed. This is the only point in my almost four months here I have felt extremely unsafe. The driver was in no hurry. He kept stopping the kombi to chat it up with friends along the way. I made it back to my site as the sun was setting, about 7PM. I made him drop me off at my house. I am not sure if staying in the car longer was the best idea, but I was in no mood to walk the 25 minutes home for the bus stop and I figured I had already made it this far. Alive and well.

The Joaleng

This weekend we had a “welcome to your new district party” at my place. All the volunteers in my district gathered together for good food and fun. Good will be the term I use to describe any food not cooked by me! Most parties serve a little booze.

Problem 1: There is only beer in my district, a substance my body will not allow me to drink.

Problem 2: We are in Lesotho.

Why are these problems? You have already learned abusing alcohol is a major problem in this country. Well you see in order to get that beer sold by the quart you have to bring back your empty bottle.

Us: “Ntate (equivalent to Mr.), we have not bought beer here before, how can we have empties?”

Ntate: “No sell, no empties.”

Us: “What do we do if this is our first time at your bar?”

Ntate: “No sell, no empties.”

Us: “Can we bring them back to you in the morning?”

Ntate: “No sell, no empties.”

This conversation went on for quite sometime. The sale was not made until we found some villagers to provide us with empties, which are now being held hostage till my next visitors arrive (under the command of the other volunteers).

This is Lesotho.

Funny Questions

To make my list of funny questions the question had to be asked at least five times (by different people). These are common questions, with some of my responses.

1. Who is Isaac Newton? Sadly, all I know about him is he is responsible for Newton’s Laws. I am not positive what those are, but if I had to put money on it I think they have to do something with force. Physics never was my strong point. Oh textbooks, better yet, internet!
2. Can you say “mother fucker” in front on an adult? Definitely not! I probably would not say that in front of anyone. I stick to other choice words. Yay, media influence.
3. What is improper English?
4. Do you have AIDS? They think the “white people” brought AIDS to Africa, only because they did not know of it until “white people” showed up to help. Sigh.
5. How did you get here (to Lesotho)? This question blows my mind. In America if the distance is far enough it is assumed one flew and for closer distances the assumption is one drove. My school looks out at an airport runway, and it BLOWS their mind I flew here. They will swear to you all day and night I drove here. Actually, I crossed this major ocean… requiring alternative transport.
6. How IS you? I am by no means a grammar girl (probably did not even have to tell those of you reading)… but for some reason this question, more specifically how it is asked, annoys me. Of course, I probably butcher Sesotho all day and night so who am I to talk about their attempt at English.
7. Are you a virgin?
8. Where are you going? Or where are you coming from? In America we would find it obnoxious and creepy if a total stranger (or everyone you encounter, which is several people on a 45 minute walk to school) wanted to know where we were going and coming from. These questions are part of the normal greeting here. I usually am coming from Mars and going to the [nonexistent] train station.
9. Can I use a Simba wrapper (think Ziploc bag) as a condom?
10. Do you know (insert celebrity here)? No!!!
11. Are their Basotho in America? I am sure there are. In fact, I know of at least one. My host mother’s son lives in New York(!!!). Follow up question: But, your president is Basotho and so it that guy (Tyshawn Taylor) hanging in your hut? They are black, you are correct. Yes, there are black people in America. Sadly, the Basotho know very little about diversity. You are a la-hoo-ah (white person), Basotho (black person), or ma-china (anything of Asian decent).
12. In American, what village do you live in?
13. Do you eat blood? I may read novels about vampires, but I’m not one. I thought this question stemmed from my recent reading of the Twilight series, which I proceeded to lend to one of my teachers. Nope, according to my teachers some Basotho do indeed eat (or drink) blood from sheep. I was not kidding when I said NOTHING goes to waste.

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!

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.

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.