Lesotho Kaofela

Last week I returned from a mini-vacation around Lesotho. First I traveled all the way to Butha-Buthe, the northern-most area of Lesotho, from southeastern Qacha's Nek. I met my friend Jen there at her home before we planned to head to Johannesburg to see a big art show and stay with Jen's friend Saffron. Unfortunately when we went to the taxirank to buy our bus tickets, I realized I had forgotten my passport at home on the other side of the country (a 10+ hour ride). I was devastated and admittedly embarrassed. In the words of Mike Bohley (who I told the next day), "At least it's good to know you haven't change much." I fear for my golden years if I'm already so absent-minded. Despite my major faux-pas, we wanted to do something fun together. Lucky for me, Jen is extremely flexible (and forgiving). We don't get to see eachother very often so we were happy to hang out no matter what we were doing. Plan B: we decided to go to Mokhotlong and visit the new volunteers there. Mokhotlong, the highest and most mountainous district of Lesotho, was gorgeous. It was cold and rainy, but it made for some beautiful low clouds around the mountain-tops.

After our unexpected mountain weekend, I said goodbye to Jen and headed for the capital where I had some business to attend to. I popped into the Peace Corps office of course, and checked in with my bosses. However, my main order of business was at PSI (Population Services International) Headquarters. I'm currently designing a mural to promote condom use that will eventually be painted on shops all over Lesotho. We discussed my latest concept design, and they suggested a few changes. Hopefully we can finalize it soon. Then the next morning I went to LPPA (Lesotho Planned Parenthood Association) Headquarters for the first time. Among other things, I needed to meet with them to discuss our need for transport in Qacha's Nek in order to reach the rural areas. All of the meetings went well, but progress is always slow in Lesotho so I don't expect much right away.

By this time it was almost Easter weekend. I met a few friends in Semonkong, a popular tourist site in central Lesotho. We stayed at the Semonkong Lodge, but I won't be going back there after poor treatment from one of the owners. Nevertheless it's a beautiful area because of a large gorge and the Maletsunyane Falls. Semonkong marked the start of a 3-day/2-night backpacking trip. With a topo map from 1981 and a Mosotho friend we began our journey. There were four of us--Todd, Rachel, me, and Fusi, a Mosotho high school student of Todd's. Our plan was to trek from village to village mostly along the bridal paths--so at every village we asked the locals the best way to get to the next village. It worked quite well. The first day, we noticed some unusual little cone huts in someone's front yard as we stopped to fill our Nalgene water bottles. We had never seen anything like them, so we decided to inquire. The woman who lived there welcomed us and happily showed us the strange structures, painted black with red and white spots. They were like tiny houses that could barely fit 2 people, who had to sit on animal-skin drums. We looked around and realized, to our surprise and delight, that the woman was a sangoma, or traditional healer (some would say "witchdoctor"). She took off her hat to reveal her red and white beaded hair. We snapped some photos and she asked me to send them to her. I said I would, and we said our goodbyes. As it reached mid-afternoon, some storm clouds were rolling in. We set up camp at a less-than-perfect site, but we had to pitch our tents and cook before it rained. So we collected firewood, started a fire, put up our tents, cooked, ate, and scurried into our tents. The rain never came. Weather in Lesotho is totally unpredictable. The next day we headed for the river which we hoped to cross that day. It took us much longer than we expected (multiple steep ascents and decents--and stopping to ask for directions), and we didn't reach the river until after 5pm. We were forced to stay in the village before the river, but needed to ask permission to stay on someone's land. Again gray clouds loomed over us ("pregnant with rain" as Basotho say). We found a decent spot and asked permission from the nearest family's home. The woman who lived there seemed confused, but said it was fine. We ended up buying firewood and water from her too because we couldn't find any. She was reluctant to sell us firewood, but she did--she probably traveled miles to collect it, carrying it back to her home in a large bundle on her head. We were quite the village spectacle--they probably had never seen tents before, let alone a group of white people. There were at least half a dozen villagers watching us at any given time. Again we pitched our tents and got inside. It looked like a small storm that would pass quickly so we waited to cook. It started to get dark, and again the clouds passed us by so we started the fire. It was dark by the time we ate dinner, but it was a gorgeous night. We enjoyed the star-gazing during our meal. In the middle of the night it finally stormed, lots of lightning and thunder. I didn't sleep a wink as it poured. Lightning is a very real danger in treeless Lesotho so I was scared, and the thunder roared overhead. It didn't last too long though, and I think I got a few hours of sleep. The next morning we broke down camp and boiled water for breakfast with the help of an insistent 'm'e. As we said goodbye to our temporary landlord, she informed us that there was a boat to cross the river, but the boatman wouldn't be there until mid-day. We had to get moving, so our only other option was to walk across where it was shallow. As we approached the Senqunyane River and started taking our shoes off, we noticed a man with multiple donkeys. Most of them were carrying crates of beer, but a few weren't loaded. Apparently Todd asked the man if the women could ride the donkeys across the river, and the next thing I know I'm balancing myself on a narrow donkey's back--they are not comfortable. With our large backpacks on and our shoes tied around our necks, Rachel and I crossed the river by donkey. When we reached the other side I awkwardly dismounted my noble steed and thanked the ntate. There, we waited for the guys to walk across the rocky river which took a little longer than our donkey ride. After that, we got a little bit cocky on our last day and didn't bother to ask for directions. We ended up taking the long way to get to the main road where we would catch taxis home to Qacha's Nek. The last day was hot and longer than we expected, but I felt great. I was excited to go home finally and see my friends and co-workers (but mostly to bathe and put some fresh clothes on). I can't wait to plan another backpacking trip.

I'm back in Qacha's Nek now, but not for long as my Dad is coming to visit this week-!!! :)