October has been a busy month. In addition to continued meetings in town and trying to start some projects, I survived a crisis at home and traveled to a new, remote area of Lesotho.
As I have said before, my ntate-moholo (grandfather) is very old, 90 years old, and as a result there is a part of me that expects him to die at any minute. When he coughs or wheezes or stumbles or falls asleep while I'm talking to him, I think it is the end. One day while I had a PCV friend, Lizbeth, over at my house, an old woman burst into my house without a knock saying "Ntate-Moholo needs water!" in Sesotho. I thought it quite rude and a rather strange request, but brought a glass of water outside anyway. When I saw he wasn't in his chair outside his house like usual, I grew concerned. Then I walked a few more steps to see my ntate 20 feet away laying on his back struggling and a teenage boy hunched over and holding him -- then I was terrified. This was it. I ran to him and as I stood over him I saw there was blood all over his shirt and face, and his eyes were bulging out of his head as he struggled to breathe. Now I was panicked -- what do I do? -- who can I call? Upon closer inspection I saw the huge wound on his head (above the forehead) gushing blood. "Stop the bleeding" was the only thing I could think to do after the stark realization that I can't just dial 911 in Lesotho. I ran to my house to get a dishtowel. Luckily my friend Lizbeth was there to help me because my neighbors in the village who were watching the whole event did nothing to help. Then I realized I needed to get a car to take my ntate to the hospital in town -- about a 10-minute drive. Lizbeth put pressure on the wound while I ran to my friend's house so she could help me locate a vehicle in town. She knew someone close by so we ran to ask him for help. Fortunately the man was home and immediately jumped out of his chair to get the car after I struggled to explain the situation and its urgency in Sesotho. As he got the car I ran back to my ntate who was looking better and conscious. I resumed "pressure-on-the-wound" duties until the truck came which took longer than expected because it had trouble getting up the hill to our house. When the truck was ready, the male spectators picked up my ntate and awkwardly carried him horizontally to the front passenger seat. Lizbeth put some gauze and tape over the cut (which she found in my medical kit), and he was off to the hospital. I was still worried, but soon became angry when I heard what actually happened to my ntate. Apparently a teenage herdboy (the same one I initially saw hovering over him) got mad at my ntate and threw a large rock at his head. My ntate is 90 years old!! I couldn't believe it! Later my ntate told me the rock broke in half when it hit him and caused him to fall backward. It was a trip or fall on the rocky terrain outside our home as I had assumed because of my ntate's age, but a boy with mental problems who couldn't control his temper. My ntate returned home that evening with stitches and a large bandage on his head. He looked pretty rough for a few days but has slowly been getting better. The whole event has cause him quite a lot of stress, but as my old granny neighbor said, "He is refusing to die." Since the incident, I have been helping and visiting my ntate so much it feels like I work at a nursing home. Also many of the older villagers come to visit my ntate adding to the geriatric scene. This last Sunday it was particularly bad with about a dozen people over 70 years old who came to see my ntate after church.
Last week I got to see the large, mountainious district of Thaba-Tseka. The trip was technically work-related because I went on rural outreaches with PSI, but it was also like a mini-vacation because I saw a new place and stayed with my PCV friend Pam who lives there. I had an awesome time with Pam -- we walked all over and saw a lot of the area. She lives in a more remote area than I do so I enjoyed seeing how she lived compared to me. It was also a very successful trip because many villagers tested for HIV during the daily outreaches. I particularly liked the village of Khotsong (place of peace) -- it sits on the side of a mountain with a gorgeous
view of the mountains and valleys. The people there lived humbly and were friendly to me. Shockingly not one child called me "lekhooa" (white person) which made me feel comfortable there. Unfortunately I could not stay the whole week with PSI - I had people to see in town. Thus I had to take public transport back to Qacha's Nek. Normally that wouldn't be a big deal, but I was in the rural mountains where, according to maps and tourists, only 4-wheel drive vehicles can pass (like the PSI truck). But this is Lesotho where a 16-passenger van can take you anywhere. I learned it was a 2-day trip: 1 day from Sehonghong to Sehlabathebe, the national park in east Qacha's Nek, and another day into town. I knew the transport in Sehlabathebe was reliable and left early in the morning (and I could stay with a PCV there), but no one was sure when the transport left from Sehonghong or even of it existed. Regardless I waited at the Sehonghong bus-stop one morning with an old woman wearing a "101 Dalmations" towel wrapped around her shoulders, both of us sitting on the small boulders that designated the bus-stop area. I sat there for about an hour-and-a-half until finally a van rolled up -- I was ecstatic! I was also curious to see exactly how this would work. Imagine taking a beat-up VW bus up and over a 10,000 foot mountain pass on rocky, dirt roads. Getting up the first mountain was the scariest because many loose rocks covered the road. The "conductor" of the kombi, who is responsible for rushing passengers on and off the vehicle and collecting money, also had the menial task of hauling boulders off the path. We moved very slowly. Then when going down the mountains it felt like I was on a rollercoaster. The woman next to meand I braced ourselves with both hands pushing and gripping the seat in front of us. The woman next to me didn't think it was so fun though -- she was puking in a small plastic bag for most of the trip. Basotho often get carsick for some reason which can make for some unpleasant rides for me. As I was fortunate enough to have a window seat, sometimes I could look straight down at the river below us as we teetered along the edge of a towering cliff. At one point I remember thinking, "Well if we were to fall off this cliff, it would be kind of a cool way to go." Alas 5 or 6 hours later we rolled into Sehlabathebe without a scratch. I was thrilled to see my friend (and even the half dozen kids drawing outside her home) and to go to bed early on her air mattress amidst a hyper-active lightning and rain storm. I had made it just in time.
The next morning we got up at 4:30am (which I dont' really consider morning) and waited for the bus to take me home. It is only a 2 or 3 hour drive into Qacha's Nek town, and it's one of my favorite drives in Lesotho -- the mountain landscape is breathtaking especially with the low clouds hugging the mountain tops as they were that morning. They always remind me of Japanese inkwash paintings -- the beautiful morning landscape covered in mysterious fog. Upon arrival at my home I immediately boiled some water and took a much needed bucket bath. Then that same day two people from Peace Corps staff came to see my at my site, and I was also expecting a friend from Peace Corps South Africa to visit me as well. Busy week! It turns out I had three visitors from Peace Corps SA all of whom had just finished their 2 year service. It was fascinating to compare cultures and experiences. Two of them spoke North Sotho which seemed similar to but still very distinct from Sesotho. They were my first real out-of-country visitors -- Thanks for coming to Lesotho, Tom, Sam, and Cort!
In other news:
1) I can now make chicken fried rice, home-made pasta sauce, and apple crisp. Believe it.
2) I visited "Snake Park" in town which is home to some poisonous snakes on display -- it's definitely not as impressive as it sounds, but it's funny that there is a place dedicated to the appreciation of snakes in a country where the people are absolutely terrified of them.
3) My PCV neighbor Adam found a scorpion in his house. He kept it in a ziploc bag for a few days and tried feeding it bugs, but eventually his mother fed it to one of their new puppies because Basotho believe it will make them more vicious guard dogs (which is what dogs are mainly used for in Lesotho).
4) Recently I locked myself out of my house and had to sleep on my ntate's couch for a night... some things never change.
As I have said before, my ntate-moholo (grandfather) is very old, 90 years old, and as a result there is a part of me that expects him to die at any minute. When he coughs or wheezes or stumbles or falls asleep while I'm talking to him, I think it is the end. One day while I had a PCV friend, Lizbeth, over at my house, an old woman burst into my house without a knock saying "Ntate-Moholo needs water!" in Sesotho. I thought it quite rude and a rather strange request, but brought a glass of water outside anyway. When I saw he wasn't in his chair outside his house like usual, I grew concerned. Then I walked a few more steps to see my ntate 20 feet away laying on his back struggling and a teenage boy hunched over and holding him -- then I was terrified. This was it. I ran to him and as I stood over him I saw there was blood all over his shirt and face, and his eyes were bulging out of his head as he struggled to breathe. Now I was panicked -- what do I do? -- who can I call? Upon closer inspection I saw the huge wound on his head (above the forehead) gushing blood. "Stop the bleeding" was the only thing I could think to do after the stark realization that I can't just dial 911 in Lesotho. I ran to my house to get a dishtowel. Luckily my friend Lizbeth was there to help me because my neighbors in the village who were watching the whole event did nothing to help. Then I realized I needed to get a car to take my ntate to the hospital in town -- about a 10-minute drive. Lizbeth put pressure on the wound while I ran to my friend's house so she could help me locate a vehicle in town. She knew someone close by so we ran to ask him for help. Fortunately the man was home and immediately jumped out of his chair to get the car after I struggled to explain the situation and its urgency in Sesotho. As he got the car I ran back to my ntate who was looking better and conscious. I resumed "pressure-on-the-wound" duties until the truck came which took longer than expected because it had trouble getting up the hill to our house. When the truck was ready, the male spectators picked up my ntate and awkwardly carried him horizontally to the front passenger seat. Lizbeth put some gauze and tape over the cut (which she found in my medical kit), and he was off to the hospital. I was still worried, but soon became angry when I heard what actually happened to my ntate. Apparently a teenage herdboy (the same one I initially saw hovering over him) got mad at my ntate and threw a large rock at his head. My ntate is 90 years old!! I couldn't believe it! Later my ntate told me the rock broke in half when it hit him and caused him to fall backward. It was a trip or fall on the rocky terrain outside our home as I had assumed because of my ntate's age, but a boy with mental problems who couldn't control his temper. My ntate returned home that evening with stitches and a large bandage on his head. He looked pretty rough for a few days but has slowly been getting better. The whole event has cause him quite a lot of stress, but as my old granny neighbor said, "He is refusing to die." Since the incident, I have been helping and visiting my ntate so much it feels like I work at a nursing home. Also many of the older villagers come to visit my ntate adding to the geriatric scene. This last Sunday it was particularly bad with about a dozen people over 70 years old who came to see my ntate after church.
Last week I got to see the large, mountainious district of Thaba-Tseka. The trip was technically work-related because I went on rural outreaches with PSI, but it was also like a mini-vacation because I saw a new place and stayed with my PCV friend Pam who lives there. I had an awesome time with Pam -- we walked all over and saw a lot of the area. She lives in a more remote area than I do so I enjoyed seeing how she lived compared to me. It was also a very successful trip because many villagers tested for HIV during the daily outreaches. I particularly liked the village of Khotsong (place of peace) -- it sits on the side of a mountain with a gorgeous
view of the mountains and valleys. The people there lived humbly and were friendly to me. Shockingly not one child called me "lekhooa" (white person) which made me feel comfortable there. Unfortunately I could not stay the whole week with PSI - I had people to see in town. Thus I had to take public transport back to Qacha's Nek. Normally that wouldn't be a big deal, but I was in the rural mountains where, according to maps and tourists, only 4-wheel drive vehicles can pass (like the PSI truck). But this is Lesotho where a 16-passenger van can take you anywhere. I learned it was a 2-day trip: 1 day from Sehonghong to Sehlabathebe, the national park in east Qacha's Nek, and another day into town. I knew the transport in Sehlabathebe was reliable and left early in the morning (and I could stay with a PCV there), but no one was sure when the transport left from Sehonghong or even of it existed. Regardless I waited at the Sehonghong bus-stop one morning with an old woman wearing a "101 Dalmations" towel wrapped around her shoulders, both of us sitting on the small boulders that designated the bus-stop area. I sat there for about an hour-and-a-half until finally a van rolled up -- I was ecstatic! I was also curious to see exactly how this would work. Imagine taking a beat-up VW bus up and over a 10,000 foot mountain pass on rocky, dirt roads. Getting up the first mountain was the scariest because many loose rocks covered the road. The "conductor" of the kombi, who is responsible for rushing passengers on and off the vehicle and collecting money, also had the menial task of hauling boulders off the path. We moved very slowly. Then when going down the mountains it felt like I was on a rollercoaster. The woman next to meand I braced ourselves with both hands pushing and gripping the seat in front of us. The woman next to me didn't think it was so fun though -- she was puking in a small plastic bag for most of the trip. Basotho often get carsick for some reason which can make for some unpleasant rides for me. As I was fortunate enough to have a window seat, sometimes I could look straight down at the river below us as we teetered along the edge of a towering cliff. At one point I remember thinking, "Well if we were to fall off this cliff, it would be kind of a cool way to go." Alas 5 or 6 hours later we rolled into Sehlabathebe without a scratch. I was thrilled to see my friend (and even the half dozen kids drawing outside her home) and to go to bed early on her air mattress amidst a hyper-active lightning and rain storm. I had made it just in time.The next morning we got up at 4:30am (which I dont' really consider morning) and waited for the bus to take me home. It is only a 2 or 3 hour drive into Qacha's Nek town, and it's one of my favorite drives in Lesotho -- the mountain landscape is breathtaking especially with the low clouds hugging the mountain tops as they were that morning. They always remind me of Japanese inkwash paintings -- the beautiful morning landscape covered in mysterious fog. Upon arrival at my home I immediately boiled some water and took a much needed bucket bath. Then that same day two people from Peace Corps staff came to see my at my site, and I was also expecting a friend from Peace Corps South Africa to visit me as well. Busy week! It turns out I had three visitors from Peace Corps SA all of whom had just finished their 2 year service. It was fascinating to compare cultures and experiences. Two of them spoke North Sotho which seemed similar to but still very distinct from Sesotho. They were my first real out-of-country visitors -- Thanks for coming to Lesotho, Tom, Sam, and Cort!
In other news:
1) I can now make chicken fried rice, home-made pasta sauce, and apple crisp. Believe it.
2) I visited "Snake Park" in town which is home to some poisonous snakes on display -- it's definitely not as impressive as it sounds, but it's funny that there is a place dedicated to the appreciation of snakes in a country where the people are absolutely terrified of them.
3) My PCV neighbor Adam found a scorpion in his house. He kept it in a ziploc bag for a few days and tried feeding it bugs, but eventually his mother fed it to one of their new puppies because Basotho believe it will make them more vicious guard dogs (which is what dogs are mainly used for in Lesotho).
4) Recently I locked myself out of my house and had to sleep on my ntate's couch for a night... some things never change.
