One Month in Qacha's Nek

The 15th was my one month anniversary at site in Qacha's Nek, Lesotho (training consisted of my first two months in country). The bulk of this month has been dedicated to observation and settling into my new home. In lieu of a report on my first month at site, I would like to share with you my top three favorite events thus far.

3) I met a teenage girl in my village who is extremely smart and opinionated. Apparently she was the first girl in Ha Manteko to finish high school, and she did well. This is particularly amazing because she got pregnant during her last year at school, and took her final exams shortly after giving birth. Despite being proposed to by the father of her baby, she chose to remain single because she knew she was too young and independent to be a traditional Mosotho wife. She's the only feminist I've met in Lesotho, and one of the few Basotho who I believe will achieve their dreams. She's currently retaking a couple classes so her grades are better when she applies to university and giving lectures about teenage pregnancy and life goals with the youth group in town.

2) One morning as I was leaving my rondavel to go to work in town, my ntate-maholo (host grandfather) was blasting Boyz II Men "End of the Road". It was one of those moments that took me back to America--specifically it took me to the drive-thru line of Del Taco at 1am waiting for chicken soft tacos with Josh and Jorge. :)

1) And my favorite story...
On my way home from work one day, a very drunk man sat next to me on the taxi to my village. Usually the drunk Basotho men are incredibly obnoxious, and I do everything I can to avoid them. (Alcoholism is a huge problem in Lesotho -- men can be found drunk out of their minds at bars and shops at any hour and day of the week.) However this drunk man was special because he had a photo album with him. It was the first time a Mosotho showed me a photo album, and what was inside it? Multiple photos of this man and his cow, and that's it... His cow and him in a field, his cow and him at the post office, the man holding a beer bottle up to the cow's mouth, etc. I was cracking up. He rattled on and on in slurred drunken Sesotho about his cow (khomo), and I couldn't understand him at all so I kept saying "Oh! Hantle, ntate" which means "oh! good, sir". Then when he finished telling me about his cow, he leaned back and tried to eat some makoenya (Basotho fat cakes; or round donuts without the hole), but he was so drunk he couldn't keep the food in his mouth. It was pretty pathetic, but wildly entertaining.

Those are my stories, and I'm sticking to them. In the next post I will try to be more descriptive about my new home and life in Qacha's Nek... still taking it all in for now.

I miss you all (people I know)!

Happy Birthday Mom!! :)