There Is Nothing As Beautiful As Wasting Time

An excerpt from Pablo Neruda’s Memoirs, I am in love with this philosophy. I have discovered this sentiment to be true in Africa, and I am grateful to her for that. Often Americans feel guilty about “wasting time.” We think, “I should be doing something productive with this empty slot of time!” I was guilty of this fallacy in the States as well, but now I appreciate my wasted time for its blissful and restorative qualities.

Pablo Neruda, a celebrated Chilean poet, eloquently declares, “If poets answered public-opinion polls truthfully, they would give the secret away: there is nothing as beautiful as wasting time. Everyone has his own style for this pastime, as old as time itself.”

Here in Lesotho, I waste hours and sometimes days, often doing literally nothing. This is supposed to be the hardest part of Peace Corps for most volunteers—spending hours at a time, especially at night, in solitude. Solitude and wasting time have been two of my favorite activities in Lesotho, and probably most of my personal and worldly growth during my 2 years in Peace Corps has occurred during these times.

Granted, every so often I actually feel bored or get sick of just waiting. Still, Basotho have taught me to value the time in between doing things. Sometimes I sit in my comfy chair in my hut and contemplate the meaning of life, sometimes I go for a walk in my backyard of mountains and rivers (and a waterfall!), sometimes I read, every once and a while I lay on the grass and watch the stars at night or the clouds in the day (I swear they move so much faster in Lesotho!), often I lay in bed for another hour… at least.

In his Memoirs, Pablo mentions the beauty of wasting time and unique styles of doing so in the context of hanging out with other poet friends. I can relate. Marlowe and I used to entertain ourselves and waste hours with grocery carts, Legos, imaginary Red & Gold dances to the Ghostbusters theme song by Run DMC (any Beads reading this??). Or Tewksbury and I would have extended conversations in the mornings about a variety of topics, from farts to surrealism. Of course these are just a few of my favorite ways to waste time with friends. In my current setting, a day spent with Pam eating our weight in fried foods and baked goods, or shaking my booty with Kj for a solid 4 hours, or chatting with Nozipho while her cousin braids and unbraids her hair are among my best times in Peace Corps Lesotho. BUT I have learned to appreciate my alone time more, even if only because I’ve had time to explore what I want in life right now, what’s important to me, and why.

So waste some time today—and enjoy it!

Got My Hair Did, or... Christmas in Lesotho

The month of December slows down where jobs and work are concerned, but family life and socializing bustles with the holiday spirit. Basotho have been saving their money for months, and they spend everything they have over Christmas. The men gather at the shebeens to drink beers all day and night. The women prepare and cook obscene amounts of food while gossiping in the kitchen.

Most women get their hair done as well for the holidays. Hairstyles vary from simple cornrows to elaborate weaves. My PCV friend Akoua and I have been talking about going to the hair saloon (yes, they say saloon) for a few months now, so we decided to join all the Basotho women in getting our hair done for Christmas (or as Missy Elliott says… “Got my hair did.”). We walked to an obscure building in the taxi-rank in Maseru that housed a few dozen shops and hair salons on the second floor. Women in plastic lawn chairs with half-braided heads crowded the long, winding corridor. The process of getting my hair braided was a cultural experience in itself. I got “singles” with extensions. Unbeknownst to me, singles take a very long time to braid (see photo). I sat in my own plastic lawn chair for 4 days letting half a dozen women tug and pull at my hair while I watched other Basotho women get different hairstyles. The way some of the hair is done is fascinating—the “Judy” requires a spiral cornrow all around the head, and then cute little red and black corkscrews of fake hair are sewn into the braids. My scalp hurt during and after the braiding process (not for too long), but it feels fine now—just a little itchy. The Basotho love it. I have gotten a ton of compliments and excited looks. Even in Durban, a handful of black South Africans admired and commented on my braids. I especially liked returning to my village in Qacha’s Nek where all the women also had been recently braided for Christmas.

I stayed in Lesotho for Christmas this year (my last chance). My best friend Nozipho invited me to join her family on Christmas Day. It was fairly low-key. Some of us exchanged gifts, and there was a feast, or mokete, with meat. It was a nice Basotho family Christmas with all of Nozipho’s extended family who traveled from all over Lesotho to be together in Qacha for the holidays.

The day after Christmas is also a holiday, Boxing Day. Nozipho’s family had another feast for Lehle, a little cousin who just finished pre-school. A sheep was slaughtered for him, and many drinks were imbibed. The party roared into the night with more drinks and a second meal at 10pm, a braai (or BBQ) of sausage and papa. Everyone danced all night to house, hip-hop, and traditional music. And when I say everyone, I mean everyone—aunts, uncles, grandma, little cousins, and big cousins all danced the night away. I finally went home with some neighbors of mine at 1am, although most of the family was still awake and drinking.

Then on the 27^th, there was another party for Nozipho’s daughter, Litsitso. Another feast, more drinks. I left this party early though. I was still tired from the night before and couldn’t stop yawning. I had a great time with Nozipho’s family although I still missed my own in California.

For the New Year, I traveled to Durban for a short holiday on the beach. I had a good time—mostly alone time on the beach during the day, and clubs at night with the other 2 dozen PCVs in Durban for the holiday. It felt amazing to put a bikini on and hit the beach… in December!

I hope all of you had a wonderful holiday. Best wishes for 2009. Happy New Year!

OMO

OPERATION: MOUNTAIN OUTREACH

"Teaching Rural Lesotho about HIV/AIDS, One Herdboy at a Time"

OMO, that's what we called our 6-day backpacking trip, and rural HIV/AIDS outreach. Three fellow Peace Corps volunteers and I, Chris Conz, Pam, and Casey, like to mix work and pleasure. Chris planned and routed a beautiful hike for us through the south-eastern Drakensberg Mountains within Lesotho. We started in Sehlabathebe, somewhat near my home in Qacha's Nek, and ended at Sani Pass where there is a lodge and the only road connecting South Africa to the dramatic mountain escarpment in eastern Lesotho. The hike was gorgeous and full of untouched mountain scenery and rivers. I want to tell you all about the hike, but... it's 3am, the sleepy apex of an all-nighter with a computer and internet in Lesotho's capital. I just don't think I can write logically for much longer. Also I'm writing a report of our trip to send to Peace Corps Headquarters, so you can expect to see that in the next few weeks for my own take on the mountain adventure. For now though, my friends have already posted a story and photos from the hike. I'll leave you with their links and a few photos of my own. :)

Fellow Hikers' Blogs:
Pam: http://ponderosapam.blogspot.com/
Chris Conz: http://chris.conzfamily.org/blog/

Please forgive my laziness. If I don't post again before Xmas, Merry Christmas everyone! And Happy New Year

Third-World Prison

Imagine living in a third-world country with virtually no economy and few resources. Then imagine living in that country’s prison. To some people it might seem the roughest place in the world to live. In reality, the living conditions of prisons in Lesotho are not much worse than many rural areas. Regardless, a third-world prison is a harsh setting for any man. (There are no female prisoners in the Qacha’s Nek prison where I work.) The problems and challenges faced by Basotho prisoners are, I assume, similar to jailed inmates around the world: lack of opportunity, lack of resources, desperation, perpetuation of risky/illegal behavior, brutality, etc. However, I believe these challenges increase significantly in an impoverished country where there is little opportunity for anyone, but especially marginalized groups like prisoners and “rehabilitated”, or former, prisoners.

There are two Rehabilitation Officers at the Qacha’s Nek Prison, or teronkong in Sesotho. One of them suggested I bring the Life Skills Program to the prisoners at Qacha’s Nek. I have worked at the prison before, giving presentations about HIV Prevention and condom-use with PSI Lesotho. The prisoners, most of them entirely uneducated, did not respond well to my limited Sesotho so I let the local Peer Educators continue without me. Still, the challenge of teaching Life Skills outside of the education system intrigued me. I agreed under the conditions that the group was small, the prisoners young, and we would meet in a separate room with a translator present. The Rehabilitation Officer rounded up some inmates, and with the help of her and the on-site nurse for translating, I began a modified Life Skills Program for five male prisoners between the ages of 20 and 25. My goal with these young men is to show them how to live a healthy life during and after prison, more so once they have been released. Also I want to give them some hope and encouragement because most prisoners feel dejected and useless to society once they have been incarcerated.

So far I have introduced the idea of Life Skills to the men, discussed why it is important and useful to them, and talked about their Role Models and admirable qualities. The prisoners have responded well so far, although a couple of them have expressed feelings of hopelessness. We will talk about Communication Skills, Decision-Making Skills, and HIV Prevention in more detail throughout the next months. I hope to see some positive change in these young men before the end of my Peace Corps service in Lesotho.

To Vote in America

Living overseas during election time has given me a fresh, outside perspective on American politics. I still hate it, especially discussions surrounding it (you reading this, Dad?), but I have a newfound respect for it as well. In the United States, elections are expected to run smoothly, and for the most part, they do.

Post-election, most Basotho and other Africans express to me their elation and satisfaction that a black man has been elected President of the United States (really Kenya? A national holiday?). But the more thoughtful Africans can barely comprehend the smoothness of the election itself. They ask in disbelief, “You had the results after only one day?” Shocked, they question the incumbent party, “Obama’s opponent actually congratulated him?” and “You mean to tell me Ntate Bush peacefully gave up the Presidency?” In southern Africa, these events seem unattainable and nearly impossible. American politics seems squeaky clean compared to Mugabe’s despotic rule in Zimbabwe and the ANC’s audacious removal and replacement of Thabo Mbeki (South Africa’s former President) without consent from the people of South Africa.

In addition to my excitement about Barack Obama’s future Presidency, I am grateful for American democracy. I dislike and disagree with many things about American politics, but it’s hard to complain after living in Africa. At least our voices are heard and change is not uncommon in the States, even if only at the local level. Most people around the world do not benefit from such opportunities.

So let us be proud of our nation and grateful for our freedom.

Cheers to America!

Make us proud, Barack Obama!

Joys of Painting

Even in Peace Corps, being an artist has its advantages and disadvantages. It’s obnoxious when people ask me to paint their portraits—for free, of course. And every other time I visit Maseru, Lesotho’s capital, someone in Peace Corps nonchalantly asks me to draw or design something for them like it’s a small, effortless task. Depending on the situation, the project, the person asking, and my mood, I’ll accept or refuse. Lately, people want me to make a card which I often refuse to do.

Luckily, Becky, a PCV in Teyateyaneng (or TY), got me on a good day. She asked me to paint a mural on a wall at her high school, and I agreed because all the supplies were purchased and some of my favorite PCVs live in TY. I only had a week to design it before I started painting so I kept it simple and flexible. It took about 5 days to paint with the help of some friends. I painted during the school break so there were no kids on campus, but busloads of Basotho “Anglican Mothers” showed up one day for a convention. That kept things interesting. The day they arrived I was painting in my soccer shorts with a male PCV so I’m pretty sure all the old women thought I was a slut. I wore my paint pants for the remainder of the week though (yup, still got ‘em!).

After a week of painting I was exhausted, but it felt amazing to finish something. Projects move unbearably slowly in Lesotho, and that can be discouraging. For example, introducing Life Skills into the high school curriculum in my village is still in progress two months after school started. Having a project with a tangible end-product in a reasonable amount of time has proved to be uplifting as a Peace Corps Volunteer. I’m grateful to be an artist in that respect. After completing the mural, I returned to Qacha’s Nek with renewed vigor and motivation. Although I’m still working with the high schools, the Youth Club in my village will be my main priority for the rest of the month. I think they can help to keep my spirits high. I’m also going to start working with a new youth group in a nearby village. Nothing like a little painting to get me back on my feet!

Handout Mentality

I’m writing this blog in response to some distressing news from fellow PCVs discussed during an HIV/AIDS Committee Meeting in the capital last week. The World Food Programme, or WFP, in Lesotho is responsible for handing out free food (mostly maize meal and oil) to impoverished Basotho. Recently however, WFP has altered their guidelines—food is now only given to Basotho who are HIV positive, TB positive, and/or malnourished. While I don’t disagree with the new policy, reactions to it need to be considered. Volunteers are now seeing mothers purposefully starving their children or friends coughing on each other so they can be on the WFP list. This sort of thinking , the “handout mentality” in some third world countries, is incomprehensible to the Western world. (Although I have heard comparisons to the welfare junky, I refuse to place them on the same level.) Nurses are seeing healthy babies’ nutrition dramatically drop after the new WFP policy was introduced. There’s little they can do, though, without hard proof or contact with WFP Headquarters (who get their orders from an office far away in Europe).

WFP is an organization that I thought could do no wrong as far as services and mission. They aim to feed the hungry—what could possibly be wrong with that? I don’t mean to solely attack WFP, but I want to use this situation in Lesotho to support a theory that throwing money at problems (including hunger and poverty) DOES NOT WORK. Basotho don’t need handouts, they need skills and knowledge that will empower them to help themselves. I am witnessing a country’s dependency on foreign aid. In my mind, it is worse to make a poor country dependent on a rich country’s aid than to do nothing at all. I urge people to rethink the way they view charity. Is it really beneficial to give people free food when they are hungry? Will a people stop spreading HIV if they are given the treatment for free? These are tough questions that do not have simple answers, if any. These are the kinds of questions I ask myself every day.