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-!!! :)

Happy Moshoeshoe Day!

Last week on March 11th, Basotho and Sotho South Africans celebrated their most notable hero: King Moshoeshoe I (1786-1870). Most Basotho attribute their country's independence, freedom, and peaceful nature to King Moshoeshoe I. Lesotho is a small country completely surrounded by South Africa. It is much poorer and weaker in many ways than its larger neighbor South Africa. Many people are surprised that Lesotho is not a province of the RSA, but Basotho are very proud to be independent and thank King Moshoeshoe I for it. In the early 1800s when white European settlers were taking over southern Africa, King Moshoeshoe strategically placed his army in the unforgiving Drakensberg Mountains of Lesotho. Living in these steep, towering mountains, the Basotho led by Moshoeshoe were able to fight off the British. There were many battles atop Thaba-Bosiu (now a historic mountain in Northern Lesotho), but the British never defeated Moshoeshoe and never took Lesotho. Also King Moshoeshoe never let the white settlers tear apart his people as they did in South Africa. In South Africa, different tribes were separated from each other creating hostility and competition that did not exist before the Europeans. Moshoeshoe welcomed other clan leaders to unite with the Basotho to fight the British. Lesotho celebrates King Moshoeshoe I as a man of peace, wisdom, and strength--the hero and pride of Lesotho. Learn more about King Moshoeshoe.

Basotho celebrate Moshoeshoe Day much the same way Americans celebrate Independence Day. Most of the young professionals in the camptown saw it as an excuse to drink and be with friends on their day off from work, and the school children and families rallied together for the activities. The festivities last many days and include athletics and traditional dancing. Each school is represented by a few students from each grade in running races for athletics. Barefoot, the students ran around the dirt track in the Qacha's Nek camptown in long and short distance races. It was easy to tell which schools were wealthy because they had matching uniforms. Otherwise the runners wore the closest thing to their school colors as possible. The girls wore mostly skirts which was strange, and they did not wear sports bras which looked uncomfortable. The primary (elementary) schools raced on a Friday, and the secondary (high school) schools raced on a Saturday. As I watched the races and the participants, it reminded me of when I ran cross country in high school. Each school stretched and warmed up in groups and cheered for their classmates. It was an exciting and fun day for all of the Basotho in my area. Traditional dancing competitions are also held in honor of Moshoeshoe Day. Boys dance and chant in groups, and so do the girls. Most of the boys' dances are characterized by an exaggerated stomping of their feet—like a high-kick with the knee bent and then stomp it on the ground. The girls' dances, however, are done mostly on their knees with their shoulders jutting forward and back. All of the performers where traditional costumes with some props. Oddly, there is always someone leading the dance with a whistle—I'm not sure why.

Because Moshoeshoe Day and Easter are both celebrated in March this year, people aren't really willing to work as much as usual. It is difficult to get things done during holidays here, so I took a vacation and saw some more of Lesotho instead. More on that next time. :)

Passions

I have a confession to make. Before you assume that I’m over here in Africa “saving the world” and sacrificing my time for humanity’s sake, there’s something you should know about me—I watch Passions, a soap opera. I am not proud of this fact, but unexpectedly it has become a small pleasure in my life. Those of you that know me well can attest to my previous hatred of soap operas and daytime dramas, but living in Africa changes you. I’m pretty sure the episodes I see in Lesotho are a few years old, although I’m not sure because I’ve never watched it before. I’m even a “soapies” (as they are called in Lesotho) elitist—I only watch Passions. I refuse to watch The Young & the Restless after Passions. It’s just so unrealistic. But OMG, if Luis and Sheridan don’t get married soon I’m going to quit Peace Corps, and can you believe Kaye is pregnant with Miguel’s baby even though he’s in love with Charity and evil MADE him sleep with Kaye even though he thought it was Charity?! And poor Charity just had a heart transplant after her evil zombie twin almost killed her! Peace Corps Volunteers and bored housewives unite—I think I’m addicted.

But let me explain… Some of the wealthier people in my village (and by wealthy, I mean not dirt poor) enjoy the luxuries of electricity and television. Wealthy people in Lesotho are better educated which means they speak decent English which means they are automatically my friends. Thus some of my closest Basotho friends have TVs in their homes. Peace Corps Volunteers rarely get to watch television, so I watch it when I can, regardless of what is on. My best Mosotho friend, Nozipho, leads the youth group that we’re starting in our village and conveniently schedules the committee meetings at our friend’s house at 3pm so we finish just in time to watch Passions at 4:30pm. I blame her for getting me hooked. Although I’m unabashedly glued to the romance and drama and evil in Passions, perhaps my favorite part is that it’s set in Los Angeles, and, because I’m from Los Angeles, Basotho assume I lived like a steamy soap-star back home. Upon meeting me, some Basotho have even said, “Oh yes, Los Angeles, I know it. I have seen Passions.” Thank you, daytime television, for promoting wealthy American stereotypes across the globe. Still I don’t know which is worse—Basotho judging Americans based on soap operas or WWF Wrestling, another television favorite in Lesotho.

Harsh Realities in Lesotho

For the most part I’ve tried to paint a pretty picture of Lesotho in my blog (if not pretty, then quaint), but the reality is that Lesotho is a third world country steeped in poverty. The beautiful mountain landscape is littered with trash; women are treated as second-hand citizens (until just a few years ago women were considered a minority by law); and the vast majority of the population cannot access and/or afford healthcare. On top of everything, Lesotho holds the third highest HIV prevalence rate at 23.5% (though current statistics say it is probably higher) caused by alcoholism and promiscuity (fueled by a similar combination of boredom and desperation—caused by extreme poverty).

The peace in Lesotho and the friendliness of the Basotho people hold the country together and keep it afloat. Lesotho prides itself on being a peaceful nation. Especially compared to surrounding South Africa where racial tension still breeds hostility, Lesotho smiles and welcomes the few foreigners who venture within its borders. Despite the supposed national pride of Basotho, virtually every person born in Lesotho wants to get out—and who can blame them? Unemployment skyrockets at 40% according to statistics, but in reality it is much worse especially in rural areas. Government, whether national or local, is usually lazy and uninformed about its own people—and is at least somewhat corrupt (though not to the extent of some African countries).

As an ex-pat volunteer at the grassroots level in Lesotho it’s easy to see the suffering and needs of Basotho, along with the many problems that exist here. However living with Basotho in their villages, many Peace Corps Volunteers are also exposed to the Basotho’s high expectations of aid workers and low expectations of themselves. In other words, Basotho want international aid workers to give them money to build a clinic, start a business, or go to school, but Basotho refuse to hold themselves accountable if the money is squandered or the project fails—it’s not their money, why should they care? Basotho have developed a serious dependency on international aid. Money constantly flows into the country no matter where it goes or how effectively or efficiently it is used. As far as I can tell, organizations do little to follow up on where exactly their donated money ends up (i.e. receipts, surveys, names, etc.) The host country is not held accountable by the donating organization, and the organization is not held accountable by its donors. I encourage people who donate money to charities and non-profits et al to inquire about where the money actually goes. More importantly though, international aid organizations need to monitor the results and spending of their aid money. International aid has had a presence in Lesotho for decades, even before the HIV/AIDS crisis. I fear that if money is thrown at Africa (and the rest of the third world) like it has been in Lesotho, the entire third world will develop a dependency on foreign aid and lack the skills to improve and progress its societies.

Dance Party Lesotho-Style!!

January 2008 was a party month for me. Of course there was New Year’s Eve in South Africa, but I have been to multiple parties since then too. You’ll all be happy to know I’m kind of a big deal in Lesotho this year. :) Each of my first two weekends back in Lesotho I attended a party. The first was a good-bye party for my friend ‘Me Refiloe, the Youth Coordinator of the Qacha’s Nek district, who sadly has been transferred to a different district. Because she works for the government (Ministry of Youth and Gender), many local government officials were there which was kind of weird—it would be like partying with your mayor and police chiefs in the States. I didn’t know too many people at this first party so I was glad Adam was there with me (especially when a very drunk man started hitting on me) and we left pretty early. The second party was thrown by my friend Nozipho and thus was a younger crowd. I was definitely the oldest person there for a few hours. I knew many more people at this party so I was much more comfortable and had more than just one beer like the previous weekend. I felt like I was being accepted into the youth community—I wasn’t exactly working at the house party, but I was breaking ground with the youth by proving to them that I could hang, which will help me in my work with the youth. First we had a braai (British English for bbq) at about 10pm after the electricity came back on. Then after we ate chicken and beef and papa, the dance party began. There are only two things Basotho do at parties: drink and dance. And damn are they good at both! Dance music consists of re-mixes of almost anything from Celine Dion to crying babies to Microsoft Windows sounds—anything you can put a beat on top of. Dance moves are just as eclectic—my personal favorite is a variation on the one-legged push-up. The all-out, all-night dancing is my favorite part about Basotho parties. In the States, people are so afraid and embarrassed to dance (especially the guys!). In Lesotho it’s embarrassing if you don’t dance. It doesn’t matter how old you are in Lesotho—when the music starts, your hips start swaying. Even adolescents going through their awkward puberty stage are not ashamed to dance like crazy! Parties usually rage on through the night until sunrise. I had mentally and physically prepared myself to be up until 5 or 6am. However the party was at a young guy’s house, and his mom broke it up at about 3am because she said she needed to sleep… lame. No, she’s actually a really cool lady and was awake with us the entire night laughing and dancing. One of the guys walked me home (my co-worker’s son) to make sure that I was “safe and protected” he said. Everyone there was very concerned about my safety while walking home which made me feel loved (it was only a 3-minute walk).

Then last week was the All-Volunteer Conference in Maseru where all the Peace Corps volunteers in Lesotho came together to discuss new policies and project ideas, etc. During the day we were all business at the conference, but every night was a party. It’s extremely rare that we all get together at the same time so we had to take advantage of the situation. Needless to say, many beers were imbibed. And one night we had a dance party—Peace Corps Lesotho style, which is a unique combination of American and Basotho music and dance moves. January has been the month of dancing. It was a good month. But seriously February will be the month of working… I swear. :)

HOST FAMILY UPDATE:
I cannot recall who I have told about my ntate so I thought I would write it in my blog because I have received a few questions about it. My ntate-moholo from my previous home, Ntate Makeka, passed away right before Christmas. I had not seen him for a while before his death, but thought he was doing fine because I had not heard otherwise. His oldest daughter didn’t tell me what he died from, just that it happened “very quickly.” He was an old man at 90 years old, the oldest in Lesotho as far as I’m concerned, and lived a fruitful life of many travels and many children. He was a devoted husband and father—an excellent role model for today’s Basotho men. He will be missed.

His son and his family now own the compound so it was good that I moved when I did.

Starting Out the New Year

It’s late Friday morning in Qacha’s Nek, and I’m feeling good. November and December were stressful months because I was somewhat homeless and disheveled. Thankfully Peace Corps paid for a hotel stay, and when I didn’t want to eat hotel food Adam let me sleep on his floor and eat his food. I’m finally settling into my new home. When I first returned to Qacha’s Nek after vacation (more on that later), my family was still away on holiday. I was at my new home by myself and the anti-malaria meds gave me nightmares and paranoia so the first week was rough—I didn’t sleep much. My next door neighbors have been great though and made sure I was comfortable and safe. My ausi (sister) returned home yesterday so now my home feels like a home. My ausi is a young teacher who is still attending school (a sort of long distance college education from South Africa), and says I will have to help her with her studies. I told her I will do my best. I still have to meet many of my new neighbors and establish myself in my community, but so far I’m happy in my new home.

I was not putting in many hours at work during the move in November, and I spent a lot of time in Maseru and on vacation in December. The New Year for me marks a new beginning in Qacha’s Nek, not only because of my new home but I will be returning to work fully with some new ideas and energy. School re-opens at the end of January, and in February my counterpart at LPPA and I will begin giving presentations to high school students about reproductive health and their bodies. I will also be speaking to the prisoners in small groups at the Qacha’s Nek Correctional Facility; we will discuss HIV/AIDS at first, and then hopefully they will tell me what they want to learn about. PSI/Lesotho Headquarters has asked me to paint a mural in Maseru, hopefully the first of many—I’m looking forward to that.

Next week I will be back in Maseru for a Peace Corps Conference, then back to work in Qacha.

VACATION:My South African vacation was awesome. I spent almost every day at the beach, and almost every night at the bar. The bartenders at our backpackers hostel were fun and let us pick our favorite music. I don’t think I’ve ever danced so much in one week. I really enjoyed driving our little rental car too. Although disorienting at first, I soon got used to driving on the left side of the road and shifting gears with my left hand—I ended up driving most of the way there and back. We had the windows open and the music on loud—we were free! At the Wild Coast, I almost ran over some little monkeys that were crossing the road. We saw some zebras and ostriches from the road too, and we could see monkeys hanging out in the trees outside our backpacker. We got all dressed up for New Year’s Eve which was fun because most everyone else wore shorts and jeans. I put on make-up for the first time in 6 months. We all had a great time dancing and drinking, but most of New Year’s Day was spent nursing a hangover. Ho lokile (ho lohkeelay: it’s ok), I was still at the beach.

Merry Christmas & Happy New Year!

Once again the holidays have come and gone -- except this year I was in Africa. Christmas really doesn't feel like Christmas when you're halfway around the world away from your family and friends and home. Luckily I was able to be with some of my Peace Corps friends. Again I was at Kjessie's -- I visit her a lot. :) This time we killed two ducks for Christmas dinner, but I didn't do the honors. The ducks were delicious, and we had mashed potatoes and green beans and stuffing and home-made pumpkin pies (Kjessie's really good). We eat well if we try hard enough. We even watched "It's A Wonderful Life" in one of the classrooms on campus.

Christmas was definitely different this year. I missed all of you and was thinking about you, friends and family. I hope everyone is enjoying the holidays and has a fun New Year's Eve! I will be on a beach in South Africa! Happy New Year!