My Heroes: Three Inspiring Basotho Women

Throughout my Peace Corps service, I have constantly been amazed and impressed by the strength, passion, and commitment to community I have seen in Basotho women. Whether the women of my former host organization, my host mother, colleagues, or friends, I have been awed and learned so much from these women over the past four years.

Today, it is my pleasure to introduce you to three incredible, strong, inspirational women that I have had the luxury to work with and befriend over the last few years. 

PONTSO

Some of the GLOW 2015 Leadership Team:
Sarah, me, Pontso, and Megan at the end of camp.

I first met Pontso in 2014 at Camp GLOW [Girls Leading Our World]. I was immediately drawn to her enthusiasm when addressing the campers during a career panel. She passionately spoke about getting her Masters in Sociology and the challenges she had overcome in her life to get to that point.

Over the next year, we worked together regularly on the planning team for the 2015 Camp GLOW. She was invaluable in ensuring the most vulnerable girls were included in camp and that we created the most dynamic and applicable topics. During camp, she again blew me away with her readiness to help out in every way imaginable, on top of taking care of her own responsibilities.

Since then, we have transitioned from work partners to friends. It has been fascinating to follow her journey. She is a manager with the Ministry of Social Development. She has applied and been accepted to multiple international programs including participating in the World Festival of Youth and Students in Russia last year, was a 2017 Young Global Changer chosen as part of The Think Summit in Germany, the African Union’s Youth Volunteer Corps (like Peace Corps but for countries in the African Union), and most recently the US’s Mandela Washington Fellowship which is the top opportunity through the US State Department’s Young African Leaders Initiative started under the Obama Administration. She was also honored as one of Africa's Brightest Young Minds in 2017! 

A recent newspaper article about Pontso's volunteer development work. 

In addition to these great opportunities, she continues to volunteer her time to improve the lives of Basotho people. When she was living in Masuoe, an area on the outskirts of Maseru, she became passionate about the impacts of climate change on the local environment. Even though she has moved from that community, she is working with community members, empowering them to work to improve the impact of soil erosion and safety on their community. 

LERATO

Lerato and I goof off together
after teen club in 2016. 

Lerato works at Baylor College’s Pediatric HIV Clinic, where she provided support to patients and coordinates the Teen Club Support Group for HIV positive youth. She is a firecracker of a young woman. At teen club, her bond with the members of the club was constantly evident. She challenged them in positive ways to embrace their situation and take responsibility for their own health.

In addition to being great at her paid job, Lerato is also an outspoken HIV+ advocate. She regularly gives talks around the country sharing her own story and challenging stigmatization of HIV. She was first diagnosed with HIV in 2007 as a teenager. When she shares this story, it’s hard. She does not shy away from her mother’s negative reaction and the loneliness and isolation she felt when she first found out she has HIV.

Voting via SMS for the Finite Awards will finish before the
Ceremony and Gala in August of 2018. 

Thankfully, her story does not end in 2007, with heartbreak. Lerato is a strong and healthy woman. She adheres to her Antiretroviral Therapy. She and her mother repaired their relationship. She has twin daughters who are now seven and HIV negative as a result of successful Prevention of Mother-To Child-Transmission. She uses her experiences and challenges through motivational talks and to help the teens she counsels and supports. 

Last year she helped organize a large and unique HIV testing event. It involved a fun walk, motivational and educational speakers helping to de-stigmatize HIV, HIV testing, and lunch. Almost four hundred people participated in the event with 154 being tested for HIV. 

This year, she is a finalist for the Survival Heroes category of the annual Finite Women Appreciation Awards, which is an award offered by Finite Magazine in Lesotho to women. I, for one, definitely think this is a well-deserved nomination and wish I was still going to be here to attend the Gala with her in August!

LINEO

Lineo and I strike a pose in traditional and modern
cultural dress at the Cultural Day she organized.

I met first met Lineo because she was a counterpart for my fellow volunteer, Nick. She is a faculty member at Leribe Agricultural Skills Training Center. In addition to this, she is incredibly active in the community. She planned and coordinated a huge Cultural Day for the school and local community in 2015.

Last year she qualified for and participated in a regional YALI [Young African Leaders Initiative] Summit in Civic Leadership. She has made the final rounds for the Mandela Washington Summit twice in recent years. Currently, in addition to working to improve agricultural efforts and food security if rural areas of Lesotho; she also spearheaded a project called Barali (daughters in Sesotho).

Barali is a project to decrease school dropouts due to early pregnancy. Working with local Child and Gender Protection officers, she visits area schools to teach young women about their sexual and reproductive rights ad HIV. As she gets to know the young women at specific schools, she works with local leadership to combat the challenges these young women face such as early marriage, gender based violence, etc.

Through Barali, she is fostering dialogue, working with many local partner organizations, and empowering adolescent girls to have the confidence to make their own decisions. She held an event in May to encourage girls to be bold enough to buy their own condoms; something most young women in Lesotho are hesitant to do. Over five hundred local youth participated in the event.

I cherish the moments we steal to reconnect
now that we live further apart. It is always
inspiring to hear what Lineo is working on. 

Currently Barali is hosting a campaign called “Hear My Story” which is sharing stories about women who have had abortions. Abortion is illegal in Lesotho, so women and girls who feel they must have one typically do not have them done by medical professionals. They are often dangerous and lead to medical complications. Seeking medical care after an illegal abortion can also lead to prosecution. The effort of this campaign is to highlight the challenges, stigma, and desperation that women and girls encounter as a result of becoming pregnant.

Even Lineo’s facebook page has become a tool for discussion. She often starts conversation about the impact of perceptions on our sexual health. It’s truly amazing to see the way she fosters important dialogue about culturally sensitive topics on social media.

Top Five Experiences of 2018 (so far...)

My girl Tizzy and I pose after camp ends. 

5: Easter Camp

My current position does not put me in direct contact with kids nearly often enough anymore. As a result, doing Community Camp over Easter weekend was one of my favorite moments of the whole year. We had nearly one hundred children for four days and it was so much fun to interact with and observe them as they participated in ropes course, life skills sessions, and a talent show. Equally inspiring was getting to work with such incredible camp staff and volunteers. I love getting to watch these amazing professionals model incredible youth development skills and I love building strong friendships with them. 

Kayaking in Mozambique

4: Mozambique

In February, my friend Katie and I went on my last big Peace Corps vacation: Tofo, Mozambique. Our prime reason for picking this spot was that it is one of the best places to see whale sharks. It took us three days of travel to get there from Lesotho and we unfortunately did not get to see any whale sharks, however, the trip was still wonderful.

While Katie got scuba certified, I spent my days relaxing and walking on the beach, writing, wandering through the small beach town, and reading. It was the most peaceful and least demanding vacation I have ever enjoyed. Tofo Beach is truly stunning. I also took some time to bird nerd on a mangrove kayaking trip.

3: Herdboy Health Outreaches

My host organization has partnered with the District Health Management Teams in three districts in Lesotho to bring health services to herdboys in rural areas. Herdboys or balisana are a unique population in Lesotho.

They are marginalized from typical communities and social interactions through a lot of unfounded stereotypes. In my experience, most herders are wonderfully caring and friendly men-some young, some old. Due to stigma and discrimination, however, they also often live isolated lives and therefore do not get access to most government services including health care.

At the health outreach in Ha Popa, Thaba Tseka: beautiful views, a crazy bumpy ride in the truck with my colleagues,
the "road" we traveled, and a group of balisana that insisted we take pictures together. 

So far this year, we have done a handful of health outreaches to encourage balisana to get health care in the future. By bringing the services outside of the clinical setting, we have seen larger numbers of herders accessing medical tests including BMI, tuberculosis, blood pressure, blood sugar levels, and HIV testing services. Those that need additional follow up are being referred for additional medical care and the local clinics are following up to ensure that these services are received.

For me, these outreaches have also allowed me to get into more rural parts of Lesotho than I had previously visited. Our first outreach in Thaba Tseka involved a bumpy three-hour drive on something almost resembling a road to reach the village of Ha Popa. It was quite the adventure. The balisana there were so welcoming and fun to hang out with as they waited in line for their various health tests.

Grabbing a late lunch with my friend Pontso on a holiday.

2. Moments with Friends

This may sound like a generic cop out, but it is still true. Whether working or playing, I have had some of my favorite adventures with friends. The longer I live in Lesotho, the stronger my local friendships become and the more I cherish these relationships. The opportunities to catch up with friends over a meal or a football game is something I took for granted in the US. The reality is that making it happen between transportation challenges and rules that require I be home before dark make these moments much fewer and more precious.

With Rets'elisitsoe and his brother,
Ralethola (one of my best friends), after the
wedding. 

1. Weddings!!!

2018 has been the year for weddings. Every year I have been in Lesotho, I have attended a wedding or two. This year, however, I seem to be attending almost one per month!

First, there was my friend Rets’elisitsoe’s wedding in January. Here in Lesotho, the groom must be escorted into the church by a female family member. Due to some travel delays, Rets’elisitsoe’s cousin was running late and so he decided that I would  be his official escort and sit in the front row for the ceremony. It was an incredible honor to be quickly adopted into the family of two of my closest friends in country and to then participate in the wedding activities at his house the next day as well.

Then, a few weeks later, my friends Tori and Mpho-who married in America-returned to Lesotho for the traditional wedding ceremony that takes place with the groom’s family following a wedding. Tori completed her Peace Corps service in 2015, so the opportunity to catch up with her after more than 18 months and to be a part of this special day was truly wonderful. 

With Mpho and Tori at their wedding celebration in March

The third wedding I attended was in my community, but for the sister of someone I have known, respected, and adored for the entire time I have been in Lesotho. It was fun to hang out with the bridesmaids before the wedding, join the convoy of BMWs for the trip to and from the church, and help out with logistics and serving during the reception. 

With my dear friend Ototo at her sister's wedding in April

To keep up the wedding theme, I just returned from another friend's wedding. This one brought me out to Quthing, a district I hadn't visited before that is about three hours south of Maseru. Even better, I traveled and spent the day with some of my favorite guys in Lesotho. For once, I already knew both the bride and groom and am so glad that I was able to be there for their special day.

In Quthing with some of my favorite guys; Tlebele, Moseli, Ralethola, and Matseli. 

All smiles with the groom. 

Homecomings

After a long day of travel and work with herd boys, my colleagues drop me off in the rural village that Peace Corps currently uses for trainings. As I walk to my home for the night, villagers greet me by name and excitedly ask about my life and work. When I reach the house, the family comes pouring out; giving me hugs and talking over one another to welcome me home.

Over the last two years, I have lived in this village for approximately twelve weeks. I have lived with this family for only four of those weeks. Despite this, returning to such warm and personalized greetings feels like a homecoming. Somehow, my return to this village, which has never actually been my home, gives me a greater sense of belonging that the village I have been living in for nearly eighteen months.

Christmas Dinner 2017 in Ha Rasekila with my Basotho Family

It reminds me of returning to Ha Rasekila for visits and holidays. After a month of challenges and feeling disconnected in my own village and community, this homecoming reminds me exactly why I fell in love with this country.

The Basotho are some of the most genuinely welcoming people. They are quick to welcome and adopt visitors-foreigner or not. One of the first statements said to a guest is always “Rea u amohela” or “We welcome you”. But the Basotho welcome is not limited to words.

When you arrive early for a wedding or a funeral, you are immediately given a plate of food to tide you over until the meal that follows the (lengthy) ceremony.

If you compliment someone’s clothing, they tell you they will give it to you.

And, when you stay somewhere for a while, they claim you as their own.

I will always cherish the moments in the taxi rank when a man would come to hit on me and my villagers would immediately shut him down, telling him “Ke morali oa rona!” or “She’s our daughter!”

As I prepare for my close of service later this year, I cannot help but think about the idea of home, belonging, and how these are defined. As I have struggled with feeling connection in my current village, it has been glaringly obvious that home is not simply the building one lives within. My rondavel is my sanctuary, but that does not provide the connection and sense of belonging that makes a home.

Home is walking into a place or community and being welcomed by people who know and love you.

Home is watching infants become toddlers and children become teenagers.

My favorite twins-they weren't walking or
talking when I first met them, but now they
are quick to talk and play and will enter
preschool next year! 

Home is knowing the paths around you so well that you can observe them changing over time.

Home is connection to people and the place.

Home is where you return to for holidays like Christmas and Easter.

And, home is hard to leave. In less than three months, I will finally close my Peace Corps service and return to my country of origin. I am excited to return to the US and make a new home outside of Santa Barbara, California, where I will be teaching English at a residential boarding school.

Saying goodbye to the relationships I have made in Lesotho, however, fills me with dread. Luckily, Lesotho is now one of my homes and I know that this goodbye will not be forever. 

A Royal Birthday Celebration

At the top, LDF on parade. On the left, the King, Queen, Princesses,
and Prince promenade and wave. On the right, my favorite performers
do flips. And at the bottom, young men perform a traditional dance
while wearing the yellow for Mafeteng.

July 17th marks the birthday of his Majesty, King Letsie III, King of Lesotho. As such, it is a national holiday here. Every year, the official celebration of his Majesty's birthday changes venue so that each of Lesotho's ten districts can participate in the excitement.

This year's birthday celebration took place in Mafeteng, the district just south of the capital. Since it was less than two hours from my house, I jumped at the chance to join the party.

The public ceremony was nearly four hours long. It began with two Lesotho Defense Force [LDF] helicopters and an airplane flying over the stadium. The helicopters each had a Lesotho flag flying underneath them. There were ceremonial shots fired, but as an integrated Mosotho, I was not yet at the stadium when this happened. I say the helicopters and heard the shots during my walk from the taxi to the stadium.

The first portion of the ceremony was dedicated entirely to showcasing LDF. The band played and marched, three ceremonial units also marched. It was an impressive site and I took photos like a tourist seeing my first giraffe on safari.

The paratrooper's parachute includes the Lesotho flag.

Following the LDF parade, we were treated to my favorite part of the day. Despite it being cold and incredibly windy, two different teams of four paratroopers glided directly onto the field. Thanks to tracers, we could watch in awe during their approach. For anyone who has been to Blue Angels air show in the US, this may not seem that impressive, however, keep in mind that in Lesotho our airspace is empty most of the time. Occasionally low flying military or private helicopters cross our paths, drawing even those of us accustomed to air travel outside to wonder at who is going where.

After the paratroopers, the final aerial excitement was a low flying salute by a single plane. A friend and I had been catching up and therefore not listening to Sesotho words the announcer was speaking. We, therefore, were blown away when the plane drowned out our conversation by flying thirty feet over our heads!

Easter Reunions

Family Photo-Mme Masekila, Abuti Mokhesuoe, Abuti
Thabo, Abuti Polau, and me. We are only missing
Abuti Sekila and my replacement, Ausi Mosa.

People often say you can’t go home again. In December, I stared at the familiar Boston skyline as my plane landed and agreed. After being gone for the last two and half years, people felt like home, but America did not.

Friday, however, I disagreed profoundly. The moment I got out of a car in Botha Bothe, a man greeted me by name. As I shopped for food, people did double-takes, exclaiming when they realized it was, in fact, me.

Once I finally made it to my village—after a three-hour wait for a taxi—the homecoming really began. Within twenty minutes, I had seen my supervisor and another woman I worked with, two of my best friends and my mother. Everyone greeted me with joy, hugs (These are not typical, which only made them even better), and celebration. As my mother and I walked home, people stopped us to comment on my return and to be sure I remembered them after my four and half months away.

Moshoeshoe Day

Police horses en route to Thaba Bosiu
in preparation for the
Moshoeshoe Day ceremony.

Every March 11^th, Lesotho celebrates Moshoeshoe Day. King Moshoeshoe I is the father of the Basotho nation.

In the 1800s, Basotho were spread out throughout the land now known as Lesotho and Orange Free State in South Africa. Moshoeshoe was the chief of the Bakoena or Crocodile clan. He and his clan were living in the area of Bothe Bothe, including on Thaba Mopeli (a mountain near the camptown of Botha Bothe today) and at LiphofungCaves.

As Zulu clans were pushing west, they began encroaching on Basotho lands. Thaba Mopeli was proving itself to be difficult to defend as it did not have water on the top of the mountain. Moshoeshoe and his clan walked from Botha Bothe to Thaba Bosiu. Unlike Thaba Mopeli, Thaba Bosiu has natural springs on its flat surface, making it a better and safer place to build homes. It turned out that Thaba Bosiu was an unusually secure site to defend. The name Thaba Bosiu means Mountain of Night. It was given this name after Moshoeshoe and his warriors successfully defeated the Zulu warriors at night. Legend has it that they burned herbs that made their enemies hallucinate and think the mountain was growing taller as they climbed the steep, rocky path to the top.

Return to a New Home

My new, rounder, thatch roof

After my home leave was more than doubled by emergency leave and a medical issue I needed to deal with before returning to Lesotho, I finally returned to my African home on the first of March.

Except, it was not my home. My real home is a rural village in Butha Buthe with my host mother and four brothers. In my real home, everyone already knows my name and calls out greetings across absurd distances. In my real home, everyone knows me and I know them. In my real home, the young children come running to greet me repetitively until I am out of range.

But, right before I returned to America in December, I left that home. Now, my new home is an adorable rondavel with fancy aluminum windows and a windowed door. It has fresh yellow paint and clean, shiny linoleum over cement. The thatch is clean and does not leak. Physically it is a huge improvement over the heise I have adored for two and half years.

And yet, as homey as the house is, returning to a country that feels so much like home but a village that feels so foreign is not quite the same as coming home. My comfort in Butha Buthe allowed me to forget the first sensations I had when I arrived in Lesotho and that village. The awkwardness of needing to ask questions in broken Sesotho in order to figure out where the store is or when a taxi would be coming were so far behind me, I had dismissed them entirely.

A panoramic photo inside my home. It's magazine-ready!

By coming into my new village, I am gaining a new appreciation for the challenges of Peace Corps service. A popular tagline is that Peace Corps is “the toughest job you’ll ever love.” While I do not think it is the toughest job I have encountered thus far, the reality is that entering a community in a different culture and trying to integrate is a profound challenge.  Apparently, even after gaining a profound comfort in the culture, language, and country; that challenge is not diminished.

In my new community, children are still awed by the idea that I can speak to them in Sesotho slang. Instead of interacting, they giggle. Adults either glow over my ability to speak or reassure me that I will be even better in Sesotho soon, unaware that I am speaking to them in mostly English because that is the language they began our conversation in. I was to wear a crown that highlights my time spent living and working in Lesotho before I came to this new village. I want them to recognize that I am not fresh off the plane.

Despite those frustrations, I am discovering some wonderful universal truths about village life in Lesotho:

When you have a problem, even strangers will jump in to help.  
Somehow I, along with many other PCVs, recently missed the warning that our bank would be completely offline for three days over a weekend. This meant that our ATM cards were useless pieces of plastic-our accounts were completely inaccessible so we could not even use the cards as credit or debit cards. I had gone to town expecting to withdraw cash, so I did not have money to buy my food for the week, pay for my hair appointment, and pay for taxi rides home and back to town again in the future. I mentioned my challenge to two guys who immediately offered to drive me home to make sure I got there safely. It was only about 7km out of their way, but still an incredibly generous and caring thing to do as well as a wonderful reminder of my favorite Basotho idiom: Motho ke motho ka batho.

Society is social.
In my old village, no one had electricity and most people cooked outside on open fires. Although I am still living without electricity, more people in this area have access to electricity and the ability to live their lives indoors. Despite this, they still spend time every day walking through the village or sitting outside greeting neighbors as they pass. They still take the time to stop and chat with one another, even when they do not know each other.

Rocking my Seshoeshoe dress just before moving
into my new home.

People love to see their culture embraced.
When I first moved in and met the chief, I worse a Seshoeshoe dress. When I draw water, I carry it on my head to bring it back to my house. Since that meeting with the chief, countless people have commented on how nice wearing the local dress is. When people greet me and I am carrying my water, they comment nonstop on how I am Mosotho.

As Moshoeshoe Day approached, people were ecstatic to find that I know exactly who King Moshoeshoe I was and his significance in the history of Lesotho. They especially love when I note that I am following Moshoeshoe, who was in the Butha Buthe region before he moved to the mountain that hugs my village.

Peace Corps has a great reputation.
Within a day of moving in, I learned that my house held a PCV named Mariah over a decade ago. I have learned a lot about Mariah since then. For example, Mariah, also known as Ausi Rethabile, did not like country music and was from the west coast.

In many ways, Mariah has paved a path for me. Because villagers loved her, they welcome and love me.  They remember her while reassuring me that I belong. Because Mariah integrated well and worked hard in this community, they understand my presence differently than if I were their first volunteer. It does not matter that it has been over a decade since she lived here; she has made it easier for me to develop relationships that recognize my role as a PCV. Considering I am here for a shorter amount of time, I really value the role she is playing in my own integration. This was something I had not experienced in my village in BB because I was the first volunteer that had lived among them.

It is pretty neat to see the way that individual volunteers are remembered by their communities. I take pride in being part of an organization that leaves such a positive impact. 

Three Photo Thursday - 1 December

This week marked a week of transition as I moved from my beloved Ha Rasekila in Botha Bothe to my new site near the capital. A highlight of saying goodbye was the farewell ceremony that my organization gave me on Sunday. Here I am towards the end of the ceremony with members of MCCC in the kobo (blanket) and mokorotlo (traditional hat) that they gave me. I will have more on the ceremony itself in the near future, so stay tuned!

Hardship Hits Hardest at Home

My suddenly very adult brother,
Abuti Thabo, at the mine. 

I stare at the screen of my phone and blink back tears of frustration and anger as I reread my brother's text message: "I miss you too my sister. I don't think I will come for writing [my exams] because they are disallowing me to come write."

One week before receiving this frustrating text, I had been sitting in the hall at my brother's school; beaming as he received the Leadership Award. Now, I am sitting in that same hall doing Camp BRO. I am forced to be on my game-inspiring young men to be positive leaders for social change-when all I want to do is mourn the future I imagined for my brother.

My amazing and inspiring brother will not be completing secondary school at the end of November as planned. He will not be writing the intense Form E exams to earn his certificate—the Lesotho equivalent of a diploma.

Instead, he is now an employee at a platinum mine in South Africa; taking on the job his father held before his untimely death a decade ago due to “mine-related illness.” Because the mine acknowledged responsibility for his illness, they have been holding a position for my brother for the past decade.

Chicken Coop Construction: Burglar Bar Busts

Angry Beth waiting by windows clearly
devoid of burglar bars.

Six weeks ago, I excitedly paid the deposit to the second man intending to install the burglar proofing for our chicken coop. After the failed installation attempt in August-thanks to no electricity and no large generators available anywhere near my village-I was excited to be working with Buthe Buthe Aluminum and Glass, a business that appeared to be more professional and more established with an actual storefront, truck and generator of their own.

As we discussed the details, my new burglar bar man set dates to measure the windows and to install the burglar bars within the week. I cleared my calendar to accommodate the dates and was thrilled to think of how fast this business would be getting the work done.

Somehow, my hope lasted up until last Monday at 1:30. It was the eighth time in five weeks I had cleared a full day on my calendar for the burglar bar installation. It was the eighth time I called multiple times throughout the morning only to be told he would install on another day. Anticipating two weeks away from site for various Peace Corps work and the arrival of our chickens, I was done!

I firmly told him that he needed to do the installation as promised, that day. He, instead, offered me a refund of my deposit.

I grabbed my stuff and angrily stomped the thirty minute walk to get a taxi to town to collect my refund. Luckily I did not bump into anyone, as I was ranting and raving aloud the entire way out. When I arrived at his shop, the owner had “left for Maseru.”

“Oh no he didn’t,” I told the tiny woman manning the shop as I pulled out my phone. My stress level and anger were astronomical as I called him again. Many conversations occurred via phone between us and between him and the small woman. As my anger literally boiled over and caused liquid to leak from my eyes, the woman tried to help find a solution that would make me seem less upset. I finally agreed to leave the shop as he would be sending me money through my phone by evening.

Just about anyone could enter this house,
even crazy Americans without the keys.

With chickens due “in September”, my stress level was through the roof. Thanks to Butha Buthe Aluminum and Glass’s failure to actually do the work promised, chickens could arrive before cages or burglar protection are installed. That evening, my brother mistakenly asked about my day. As a result of me telling him the drama that had unfolded and my extreme frustration, I also taught him a new idiom: spitting nails. He and I both laughed about it.

A week later, I still did not have my deposit back. A large male PCV accompanied me in case I needed intimidation. I was much nicer than I would have been last week and managed to get my deposit back without resorting to intimidation or calling Peace Corp’s Safety and Security Manager. I am still a bit stressed but mostly am relieved that the chickens did not in fact arrive in September.

Meanwhile, the Peace Corps staff swept in to help me out. The staff that ensures the PCV homes are protected called up their guy and helped arrange installation of our burglar bars…hopefully this week. Somehow I am still optimistic despite the multiple failed attempts.

MCCC’s Egg Laying Chicken Project has been in development since March 2015. After many delays, MCCC and I were able to write a successful grant proposal for a VAST grant through Peace Corps. VAST grants are funded by PEPFAR to help with HIV-related work and OVC (Orphan and Vulnerable Children) care. It is due to MCCC’s work with OCVs that qualified us for the VAST grant. Otherwise, we would have applied for a PCPP [Peace Corps Partnership Program] grant and would have been asking for assistance in funding this grant proposal. I encourage you to consider supporting other PCPP projects.

Posts about this project include:

 Workshop Woe, Busiest of Birthdays, Checking Out Chickens, A Day with Bo-’M’e, Chicken Coop Construction Day One, Day Two, Day, Three, Day Four, Day Five, Weeks 2 to 4, Weeks 5 and 6.

U motenya!

I leave my house for work and get called over by two village women awaiting their chance to do business with the chief. The first smiles and asks how my work is going. The second smiles and says “Ke bona u ja hamonate,” (I see you eat well) while gesturing at her hips with her hands about a foot away from each side to denote my large hips.

I draw a deep breath and expel a fake laugh before agreeing and noting that I have also have lost 30 kilograms since arriving in the village. The first woman agrees with me. I wish them well and head off to work stewing over being told, yet again, that I am fat.

***

I am in pre-service training on the night before our first community meeting. My host mother explains to me in broken English that I will be wearing her kobo or blanket. She then says she wanted me to wear one of her dresses, “but, you are too fat!”

***

I walk into a store and get a big grin from a female clerk. “Ausi, u motenya!” (Sister, you’re fat!). As my grin fades, a male customer next to her enthusiastically agrees, “E, u motle!” (Yes, you’re beautiful).

***

A taxi conductor attempts to overload my row of the taxi, where is sit alongside two other larger women. We fit comfortably, until he tries to put a fourth person in our row. The woman next to me starts laughing and says, “Ntate, re batenya kau fela!” (Father, we are all fat!) She then looks at me and points first to the woman on her left, then herself, and finally to me repeating the word motenya while smiling.

***

I am at the Peace Corps Medical Office standing on the scale. The doctor glances at it as I point out I have lost over forty pounds since arriving in Lesotho. She smiles at me and says, "Don't worry, it doesn't show." I am crushed for hours until I realize she was reassuring me

***

Living as a fat woman in America is not easy. People write blogs and posts about this everyday. Other people make horrible disparaging comments about how terrible said writers are. American women are bombarded by images convincing them they need to lose weight and look a specific way to be considered pretty or beautiful or even just average. Clothing models are many sizes smaller than the average women and many stores only carry sizes up to twelve or fourteen despite the fact that the average American woman is a size 16 to 18. 

In Lesotho, women spend their energy worrying
about whether their body can do things, not if
it compares to a supermodel on TV.

After a lifetime of internalizing the buying of extended sizes, the struggling to find active clothing without buying men's clothes, the doctor's running routine vitals or lab work and being shocked at my healthy levels, and the strangers assuming I am a binging, inactive, and unhealthy human simply because I am obese (despite my career choices and personal hobbies proving otherwise), it has been a huge adjustment to live in a place where comments about size are constant and are...

...compliments.

In Basotho culture, a country where most rural people struggle to maintain a healthy and substantial diet year-round, being fat is a sign of good health.  When people are stopping me on the street to tell me I am fat, they are stopping to tell me I look healthy or beautiful. 

Knowing this, however, does not undo three decades of insults and microaggressions. More than two years living in this culture, however, does not stop my American brain from being crushed when someone says "U motenya." The American inside me still translates this to 

You're ugly...

You're lazy...

You're unworthy...

The person delivering the complement smiles and is oblivious to my inability to accept their compliment. Meanwhile, my fake smiles, fake laughter, and forced thank you work their way out as I negatively internalize their complement and proceed to spend the next two days trying to remind myself that they are celebrating my looks and my body, not demeaning them. 

The longer I am away from American standards, culture, and media, the more accepting I find myself being of other people's bodies. I look around me and see women of many sizes and shapes. Instead of seeing wrinkles, big booties, or small boobies, I see beauty. I marvel at the differences between the people I encounter and the uniqueness of them all. I celebrate it. 

I am nervous to return to an America that is incapable of doing the same. More than two years away from the stinging judgement of American culture, it still invades my brain with its negativity and self-doubt. I desperately want to keep my ability to celebrate others' diverse beauty. I desperately want to continue learning to accept compliments on my shape, size, and self without tearing myself down. I am just not convinced that is possible in the United States. 

Meanwhile, I joyfully continue to live in a culture where a villager stops me to voice concern that I'm unhappy as he can tell I have lost weight.

If you like this post, also consider reading Five Lessons From Basotho Women  and Top Ten Surprises After a Year as a PCV.

Three Photo Thursday: 15 September

My host mother, grandfather, grandmother, and me after
church on Sunday. 

Church in Lesotho is no one-hour commitment. Although not Roman Catholic, when I attend church, I attend with my villagers, which typically means attending the small church at our local Catholic primary school.

This Sunday, however, took more initiative. Instead of attending church a ten minute walk away, we were headed to the large church an hour's taxi ride away...and the priest would be there. We were attending because my host mother was joining a group in the church named for St. Cecilia; the patron Saint of music.

Instead of the usual two to three hours of church, it lasted nearly five hours. After church, I learned most people bring lunch. Thankfully I had coffee and water to share as my grandparents shared their packed lunch with me.

A pamphlet given out
by police at a traffic stop

Police checkpoints are a regular part of car travel in Lesotho. The police check out the vehicle safety, the driver's license, the vehicle registration, or confirm that a taxi is not overloaded.

This week, as we pulled up to the usual checkpoint in Botha Bothe, a policewoman handed a pile of papers to the driver. After the last one made it to me in the back of the taxi, I was impressed to see this double-sided pamphlet about human trafficking. With the opposite side in Sesotho, the handout told people where to get help and how to avoid becoming a victim of trafficking. I had previously seen similar posters , but giving the information out to captive audiences in cars is brilliant.

It reminded how seriously the Lesotho Police take human trafficking. Last year as we were finalizing things for Camp GLOW, the police requested to come to the camp specifically to talk about human trafficking and how to avoid becoming a victim.

Peach Blossoms

After last week's Plum Blossoms, I almost did not share these beautiful pink flowers. They are simply too beautiful to not share.

Right now in Lesotho, peach blossoms are a bright and colorful sign that summer is coming. Since the rains have not yet begun, the rest of our landscape is still mostly shades of brown and sepia; which only makes the thousands of trees bursting with pink stand out that much more.

They are like our reward for wearing long underwear inside and out for most of July and August. Now, we get to complain that the sun is too hot while absorbing this beauty. 

PCV Accomplishments By the Numbers

This is the first of a few posts highlighting the work my peers and I did during our "two years" of Peace Corps service in Lesotho. Stay tuned for more!

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Chicken Coop Construction: Weeks 5 and 6

Construction Completed!!

Week Five: We have completion! Well, construction completion anyway. Although the house is not yet ready for chickens to arrive, the roof is completed and well secured for its windy locale. Although I missed watching the team finish the house, I learned of their accomplishment before boarding my taxi to come home. Multiple people in town stopped me in my tracks; thrilled me to tell me that the chicken house was done and beautiful.

As my taxi crested the hill before our building site, I caught me breath eager to see the completed project. It looks wonderful!

Week Six: When week five started, a friend helped me schedule someone to install burglar bars in the house on Sunday of week six. In my head, with burglar proofing happening Sunday, the cages would also get installed this week.

Clearly I should not develop expectations, even when things are scheduled and we have asked a million clarifying questions in two languages.

When the man building and installing our burglar proofing arrived, we were all stunned. He was shocked to learn we do not have electricity in our village. Bo-‘M’e and I were equally blown away that he never mentioned needing electricity to complete his work.

As PCVs, we are supposed to work with host country nationals in all things. This is to build their capacity to do the work after we return home. In this case, I am grateful to have worked alongside women in my organization as otherwise I would have feared my language skills caused the confusion and delay.

Still waiting for burglar bars on these windows, but wow,
that roof is pretty!

One of the leaders in my organization and I had spoken to this man twice in person. The first time was when we were getting a quote for building supplies and pricing. He looked at the printed list of supplies and said we had everything we needed listed and priced his work. The second time we spoke was on the day that we bought the building supplies. Again, we checked to ensure we had everything as we did not want to have to hire a vehicle for later deliveries of building supplies. Again, he confirmed we had everything and he gave us his contact information.

I have an incredibly hard time understanding this man’s Sesotho, so it is possible that I would have missed any mention of electricity despite knowing the word. I was, however, working alongside ‘M’e ‘Majustice and a woman from the building supply store. ‘M’e ‘Majustice knows that we do not have electricity in our villages. She would have quickly jumped in had he suggested anything connected to moltakasa or use of a generator. I do understand her Sesotho. The woman from the store translated many of his words into English for me and I am certain this important fact would not have been ignored as much of our district does not have electricity.

As a result of this miscommunication, we spent two hours trying to find a generator for the following week. His job at the building supply store makes him only available to do the work on Sundays. He made it clear that we needed a large generator. When he looked at the first one we found, it was too small. We went to another family’s home to see their larger generator. Although larger than the first, it too was too small. Then he clarified the power of the generator we needed-double the first one we had looked at. As we walked back to my supervisor’s, I expressed concern that we may be unable to find one that large as our village does not have people rich enough to have such large generators and we do not have the money to rent one from somewhere else.

Before he departed for the day, I asked him to take a look at our supplies again, just to be sure that if and when he returns we actually have everything needed to do the job in one day. It turns out that we are missing square “tubing” to serve as the outside of the burglar door frame. We need to buy two sections. Apparently, checking the list when we were at the building supply store on two separate occasions did not highlight this important missing piece. Buying these now will require hiring a truck as they are too long to strap to the top of our taxis.

One of the women in my organization poses with the
completed chicken house before our meeting.

So now we have to figure out how to find a huge generator, buy oil and petrol for it, buy the two sections of square tubing, and hire a vehicle to deliver the tubing or we have to find a new person to do the work; one who can arrive with and by his own power. This lack of clarity looks to more than double the anticipated cost of burglar proofing the chicken house in addition to slowing us down.

Despite my frustrations with the man who was to do the work, I am surprisingly unfazed by the situation. Obviously, my expectations are shifting and I am becoming more accepting of the twists and turns in the project.

Bo-‘M’e and I visit numerous houses in multiple villages trying to secure a generator large enough for the project. We are unsuccessful, however, my visit to town to get new quotes from people with larger shops gets us a few reasonable quotes that come complete with transport, installation (including bringing their own generator), and the supplies. As predicted things will be twice what we estimated, but a careful look over the budget and remaining funds reassures me we can still afford this vital step in our project. 

MCCC’s Egg Laying Chicken Project has been in development since March 2015. After many delays, MCCC and I were able to write a successful grant proposal for a VAST grant through Peace Corps. VAST grants are funded by PEPFAR to help with HIV-related work and OVC (Orphan and Vulnerable Children) care. It is due to MCCC’s work with OCVs that qualified us for the VAST grant. Otherwise, we would have applied for a PCPP [Peace Corps Partnership Program] grant and would have been asking for assistance in funding this grant proposal. I encourage you to consider supporting other PCPP projects.

Posts about this project include:

 Workshop Woe, Busiest of Birthdays, Checking Out Chickens, A Day with Bo-’M’e, Chicken Coop Construction Day One, Day Two, Day, Three, Day Four, Day Five, Weeks 2 to 4