Journal Excerpt from Sept. 1

[An excerpt from my journal for these past couple weeks]

Well I’ve been super busy, with 2-4 things to do every day for these past couple weeks. Today I had a meeting about the community center in the morning (and building a seed bed) and two lifeskills classes at different schools this afternoon.

The community center is really coming along. We’ve dug beds for 10 plots, 19 out of the 30 orphans showed up last Saturday and worked so hard, digging the stiff, weedy soil. It just looks like mounds of dirt, but I’m proud of the kids. I wonder what motivates them. It’s nice to think they’re invested in this project, growing food. We’re planning on planting the seeds this Saturday. The cabbage seeds are already in the seed bed. Regular watering is going to be a challenge. And we’ll see it the schedule to fix up the building this week actually holds. Next week we’re getting the gardening tools. It will be nice not having to borrow and carry them around (my shoulders are soar from carrying all those spades yesterday).

It’s warming up, I can sleep in normal pajamas and a single sleeping bag again. The peach trees are blossoming. It’s nice, still cool and the muddy rains haven’t started yet, I’m not looking forward to that.

A ‘mme [woman] that is somehow related to my family is staying here for a month with her tiny newborn baby. [It’s a Basotho custom for a woman to go home to her mother’s house for a month to give birth and recover.] It’s a nice custom. And he is so cute and tiny, and hardly ever cries.

I’ve been so busy, my garden has been on hold, but hopefully I’ll finish the last of the stick fence this weekend and plant the seeds next weekend (it’s reconnect and all-vol next week!). I’ll be staying at Lauren’s on Sunday night, and we’re going to watch a movie, make mimosas and shepard’s pie, yum!

Life is really good. I feel settled, at home. It’ll be so weird leaving. These chapters of my life seem so disconnected, they don’t blend together like normal life changes. Coming here (and leaving) is such a drastic, abrupt change. My life here is so completely, utterly different. Different in every way I can think of, from how I brush my teeth and get a drink of water to how I get from place to place and what I consider a work. I really wish I didn’t have to choose one or the other, here or there.

Makoenya [my dog] is lying beside me, stretching from her nap on the rug, it’s already too hot out in the sun. And at least she’s away from that pig. They fight all the time, usually over food, and then sleep cuddled up together on my doormat outside (giving Makoenya his fleas, I pulled six off her today), It’s so strange to raise a pig as part of your household for six months and then eat it. We have so much distance from our food in the US, although they certainly don’t cuddle with it before they eat it. Other volunteers refer to my village area as the Lesotho version of the American Appalachia. We eat pet cats (and mice) out here, skin them and then wear cat-fur hats. For some reason I’m proud of it, that we’re considered real earthy people. Though I don’t think I myself am integrated enough to eat the pet cat (but I’m looking forward to that pig). But I like to think of myself as part of a community that really knows what it means to get by, to survive.

Village Children

The children are the best part of my life in the village. Even though many of them have very little, they have such a joy of life. Their toys are similar to what my grandparents played with: rolling tires with sticks, jacks (but with rocks), hopscotch, and ball. No tv, no board games and definitely no video or computer games. They often have to make their own toys, making little animals out of clay and playing house with old tin cans and milk containers. And yet they seem happier than many American children. I think part of it is because almost everyone here has the same things, the same handmade toys and clothes filled with holes. They don’t see all the many, many other toys, games and clothes that they don’t have, the ones that American children are constantly exposed to, designed to make them always want more. I myself feel this dissatisfaction in the US that I don’t feel here. It doesn’t matter if I have burn holes in my skirt (I sit too close to the fire in winter) or if I wear the same thing every day. There is a sense of wanting more here, but it seems more wistful dreaming and easily pushed out of mind. And there is even less of it in the children. You might want a tv, but you know you’re never going to get one, so why waste time pining for one?

Adults and children alike spend all day outside, chatting, doing laundry in the river, cooking on the outside fires, gardening, etc. People really only go inside at night and when it’s raining. And it’s the same with the children, playing all day outside. The kids here have a freedom to roam, to go anywhere. Parents usually don’t know where their kids are, but there isn’t much worry, they’ll come if you shout their names loud enough. I think this freedom, along with how much tougher life is here, make the children mature very fast. I don’t think there is a single whiny child in my village (certainly not the case with me growing up). A very common sight is to see a two year old baby tottling around alone without any pants on, holding a knife yelling the new word he’s learned “thipa!” (knife) (Boys especially don’t seem to wear pants regularly until at least five.)

Life is also hard for children. Boys are expected to spend all day herding animals in the mountains, often being expected to sacrifice going to school for it. And girls do so many chores, it seems endless. My host sister is 12, she takes care of me, helping me with laundry, washing my floor and getting water from the river. She does at least half the chores in her own house as well, after spending all day at school. One day I saw her playing with a doll and was shocked. She seems like a care-taker to me, it seemed so strange to see her acting like the young girl she actually is. But she also gets more joy out of a free apple or game of hopscotch than I think any American 12 year old could.

Children in the village can be the most frustrating part as well. A year later, they still like to come to my door and stare at me through the bars, all day long if I’d let them. They also are still constantly asking me for sweets or money. After a year of not giving out ANY candy or money, you’d think they’d give up hope, nope. The kids here have a hope for the future that they often sadly lose at the end of primary school when they see what their future most likely will really be. It’s a hard life here, but the children's continuous laughs and shouts give the village a contagious, joyous energy.

What 24% HIV+ Really Means

When I first for my Peace Corps assignment, all that I was told was that I’d be in Lesotho, working with communities on HIV/AIDS. I was very excited about living in Lesotho, but less so about working on the AIDS pandemic. It just seemed like such a monumental and depressing task. We were told that the official prevalence rate was 24% of people in Lesotho were infected with HIV. It sounds like a lot, but it is totally different to be in the middle of it, to see all the sickness and death. It’s everywhere and it effects everyone. It has decimated such a friendly, loving people. After being here for a year and seeing its terrible pervasive effects, I wouldn’t want to focus on anything else. Even though the average family has 3-4 children, there is still negative population growth, it’s that bad.

In my village there aren’t really any good figures on how many people are infected. There is a lot of stigma and prejudice about being HIV positive, so most people won’t talk about it (which is a big part of the problem). But in my village of 204 families, there are 85 children who have lost one parent, and 33 children who have lost both parents and are still in primary/elementary school.

Besides teaching about HIV in the schools, I am helping to start a community center in my village. One that focuses on orphans, a place where they can have a community garden and chicken coup, so they can have a regular source of healthy food. The center will also provide classes for out of school youth and a variety of workshops. The purpose of the center is to be a resource, to address whatever issues or needs the community thinks are the most important. HIV prevention and education are going to be a big part, and I really hope it helps. As one village woman said during my household survey, “the biggest problem in the village is that children keep dying.”

2 Weeks Being an American Again

I left my freezing, sleepy village in Lesotho in the middle of winter for two weeks of summer back in the U.S. with friends and family. I can only imagine what I looked like in the airport when I arrived. After traveling for days and with dirt from the village still ground in, smiling and crying at everything. I hadn’t seen my family in a year. It doesn’t sound that long, but living in a rural village that did not have electricity, computers or TV, the pace was unbelievably slow. Since I was back where I had access to a car and a phone with almost unlimited minutes, I was able to fit practically an entire summer into two weeks. I went swimming, ice skating, to the movies, grilled burgers and had picnics. But the best part of being back in the U.S. was definitely being with my friends and family. I was really touched by how far some of my friends traveled and how they rearranged their schedules and lives for me. I was relieved to find that our relationships had not seemed to have changed. We had new stories and new jobs or schools, but we were still just us, excited to be catching up after so long.

I also met with my professors and did some research while I was in the U.S. I compiled all the data from my household survey and looked for correlations. I found some interesting relationships between gender and life satisfaction. Even though (or perhaps because of) all the domestic work that women do, the many hours a day they spend doing chores, they generally claimed to have a higher level of life satisfaction. My village very recently got electricity, and it will be interesting to see how it changes their lives. Electrification potentially may impact women more because of all the time intensive chores that would change. And possibly, women will not spend as many hours together socializing during chores and electricity may negatively impact their social ties in a way that it doesn’t for men. It will be interesting to actually see the relationship and changes between gender equity and development in my village.

After being gone for a year, several things about the U.S. surprised me. How green and leafy everything was. Also how dependent everyone seemed on their phones, which seem to be getting alarmingly smart. And how much of people’s lives were online now, updating everything on Facebook. It seemed to me that we in the U.S. are so wrapped up in our electronics and our digital lives that there must be so much that we are missing. The pace of life in the U.S. was alarming, it felt almost uncontrollably fast. I think that impression came from being away from it all for 13 months, but also that things have actually gotten faster. So many things are instantly available. I miss my friends and family immensely, I also often miss the access and ability to get things done so quickly, but I’m a little scared of returning to that accelerating pace and way of life. Luckily for me, I’m back in Lesotho for another entire year.

Visiting a Sangoma – Beads, Bottles and Bones

Last week I visited a sangoma, a traditional doctor, in the neighboring village. Traditional doctors get a lot of respect and have a lot of power in Basotho culture. Not just political power, but actual magical power. They can see the future and talk to ancient ancestors, even the recent dead. They can cure people of bad luck and curses, as well as place curses on people. It is generally thought that only the “evil” traditional doctors, called witches, will curse people. Some curses can even kill the victims, lightning strike is a very popular method I’ve been told. Luckily, there are no evil witches by my village, but there are several sangomas that do a good business in curing curses, illnesses (often caused by curses) and getting rid of bad spirits.

I was excited to meet and have my fortune read by one of these powerful Basotho. The sangoma was a older woman, with a shaved head and wearing a lot of red and white beads. She was very friendly, and we chatted for a bit before she led me into her hut designated for her sangoma work. There were animal skins on the ground, which we sat on, and little bottles filled with medicines lining the walls. There must have been hundreds of them, all different sizes, the medicines were mostly roots and powders in old paint bottles (which took away from the mysteriousness). The sangoma lit a candle and chanted into a hollow pipe, then held it to her ear to hear the ancestors or spirits’ reply. She then shook some bones (with a domino and dice with them) and read my fortune from how they landed on the animal skin. I did not grow up believing in the magic of traditional doctors, so I remain skeptical, but I do not doubt her insight and great ability to understand people. Some of what she told me I am supposed to keep a secret, but she did make one prediction that I especially liked: my grandfather that died long ago is looking after me and keeping me safe. She also warned me that a small dark woman (which describes just about every other person here) is jealous of me and sent a Tokolose (a cheeky spirit, often in the shape of a tiny bearded man, that is always up to mischief) to sneak into my house at night and bewitch me. And if I returned for another visit (and paid more money) she could remove the Tokolose and give me a protective charm against this woman.

After the fortune reading there was a ceremony to commemorate the four months of mourning one sangoma finished after the death of her daughter. All the family members got their heads shaved and all their clothes washed and one of their largest goats was slaughtered. The goat’s neck was slit and the blood was poured into a hole dug in the middle of the yard. All the sangomas in the area gathered together to sing and dance. It was a traditional dance from Swaziland, and very different from what I’ve seen here in Lesotho. The dance involved a lot of quick steps and feet movement accompanied by many people playing the drums and singing.

It was a very interesting experience, the traditional clothes and dancing were beautiful, and the fortune reading gave me goose bumps, but I don’t think I’ll be back for that charm, I think my dog can take care of any Tokolose.

A Year of Seasons in Lesotho

ONE YEAR. I have now been in Lesotho, the Mountain Kingdom, for an entire year. It feels brief and incredibly long at the same time. And it’s only half over! I now have seen all of Lesotho’s seasons – one of the few countries in Africa that has four distinct seasons. To get a better taste of what my life has been like throughout these seasons, I’ve written a brief description of each season (which is the opposite of those back in the U.S.) :

Spring – It’s finally warming up and I can take off the extra layer of socks and long underwear. Everything is super dusty and people talk about rain coming to start the seeds growing and settle the dust a bit. There are baby animals everywhere, little goat kids and piglets at the house down the hill. The peach trees start to blossom and cover all the hills in pink (though the peaches won’t be ready for four more months)

Summer – The rains finally come, and it rains almost every day for several months. Rain turns everything green, grasses grow where there were just dirt fields and slopes, more grass than the animals can graze. The rain also means crazy lightning storms with hail pretty regularly. And my least favorite part – the mud. It makes me wonder why I ever wished for rain to settle the dust. Mud is much worse, it becomes very difficult to stay clean for more than an hour, and I am continually slipping down my muddy slope to the road. I remember waking up one night to the sound of a full river and a newly formed waterfall, just after the first rains of summer had begun.

Fall – Everything is in bloom, there are clematis flowers everywhere and ripe maize (which means roasted maize, as much as I can eat!). The rains finally stop, or at least become much less frequent, and things begin to dry up. I have to go to the river again to get my water because there isn’t rain to fill the barrel behind my house. I spend at least an hour everyday pulling thistles and burs off my dog or myself, they’re everywhere. There is a chill in the air that feels nice after the summer heat, and an early frost that kills off my promising tomato plants.

Winter – You can almost tell the exact day winter begins, the sky is cloudless and the air has a bite to it. People sit (and nap) out in the sun during the day, soaking up the warmth. At night I wear long underwear, a sweatshirt, two pairs of wool socks, and am still cold underneath my sleeping bag and two blankets. It’s not Michigan cold, it only snows occasionally here, but without heated buildings it’s a bitter cold that gets into your bones. The days are also shorter, and I’m sequestered in my house for three more hours of darkness every day.

But this winter, in July, it also means a trip home to the U.S. where it’s summer, with swimming in Lake Michigan and picnics in grassy parks!

Lesotho Oddities

There are certain signs and oddities that remind me I’m in Lesotho, and make America seem like a distant dream-like world. Here are just a few:

-Towels are actually very nice skirts to wear around the village,

-Calamine lotion is used as a face-mask and sunblock in one.

-It takes over an hour to get a plate in the “fast food” hut.

-Why carry a small Tupperware container when you can carry it on your head? Suitcases too.

-A woman wearing gum boots is laughable, but fuzzy toe socks with flip-flops is very nice.

-KFC is fine dining, people will do almost anything for a piece of that special recipe chicken.

-A mouse, donkey, chicken intestine – if it’s meat my family will roast it up and eat it.

-MSG is a delicious spice, sprinkled on the top of any dish.

-Previous homework is actually free toilet paper, math seems to be the most popular in my family.

-Dogs are used for protection and definitely are not your best friend. Cows perhaps.

While these things may appear strange and often comical to me, I am sure that there is a much longer list the Basotho in my village could write about me. And yet, regardless of my oddities or accidental faux-pas, I am constantly greeted, accepted and loved by these remarkably friendly people.