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.

Saying Goodbye Part 2

My host mother, 'M'e 'Masekila and me before the ceremony.

My host mother comes to the door in her red Seshoeshoe dress. I immediately stop what I am doing, “’M’e, U motle hakahang!” (Mother, you are beautiful right now.)

“Che, ausi Thato, re batle hakahang,” she replies. (No, ausi Thato-that’s me-we are beautiful right now.)

We grab our things and head out the door, walking through the village together. As we approach people, my mother ululates loudly before we begin the customary greeting process. After our greetings, before they can ask, she proudly tells them that we are going to a party for me because I am finished my work.

As the community building and chicken house come into view, I see Bo-‘M’e busy bustling around outside. Then, the ululations begin in chorus, calling everyone to see that I am coming. As we get closer, these incredible grandmothers I have been blessed to work with begin singing and dancing towards us. They surround us and sing for me before guiding me to continue on into the hall. They parade behind me, still singing until I sit down at the table in the front of the room.

I look out at the empty chairs and chuckle to myself. Two years ago, I might have thought that nobody cared, but now I know better. Village ceremonies never start on time. My mother and I were over an hour late. Everyone else now knows to come because of the volume of our arrival.

I sit in the seat of honor and look at the space that has seen so much of my work. Along one side of the room are fifty bags of chicken feed, awaiting the very late arrival of our chickens. Dotted all over the white ceiling are dirty imprints of the soccer ball we used for the Grassroot Soccer HIV programs I did with teenagers. I can look at the chairs and identify by color whose house each one came from. It is surreal to realize the time to say goodbye has finally arrived.

Soon the room is full enough that Bo-‘M’e and the chief decide to start the ceremony. Ceremonies in Lesotho all follow the same structure. First, there is a short hymn followed by a prayer. Then, the MC, in this case, ‘M’e ‘Majustice introduces themselves, the purpose of the event, and explains how the ceremony with proceed. From there, the MC invites various individuals to speak about the person or topic for the ceremony. In between each speaker, the MC announces the next speaker and then everyone joins in singing a song as the speaker comes to the front. At the end of the ceremony, instructions for the meal are given, a prayer is said, and the formal portion concludes.

Saying Goodbye Part 1

As I prepare to leave my village for the last two and half years; saying goodbye has become a regular part of my daily life.

There is no easy way in Sesotho or English to explain to my local friends and family just how much I will miss them when I depart. Last week I attended a community gathering and tried to say in words exactly how important the community is to me.

To translate for you, I said:

Three Photo Thursday - 17 November

The time for goodbyes has begun. In ten short days, I will be leaving my beloved Botha Bothe and moving to my second site-nearer the capital and Peace Corps Office. The goodbyes this week began with my final Teen Club for HIV positive youth at Baylor's Pediatric AIDS clinic. After more than two years of monthly meetings, I am definitely going to miss these incredible, bright children. This photo is with Ausi Lerato, the program manager. Although I have some photos with the teens, in the interest of maintaining confidentiality, those are just for me! 

Chicken Coop Construction: COMPLETION!!!

Chicken house completion has finally happened...although two months became more than four, the house is completed and ready for the arrival of MCCC's 200 egg-laying chickens!!

The burglar bar completion finally happened a week after the third business owner gave me a quote. His staff was incredibly professional and efficient when they came to do the installation. They even helped fix a burglar bar on our hall while they were there! 

Burglar Bar installation-I had to see it to believe it!

The next week I had a momentary panic when the man we bought the chickens from called. When I ordered the chickens, he said the delivery would be happening in September. We were into the second week of October and still needed to finish the cages and buy chicken food. Before I answered, I was sure he was calling to tell me the chickens had arrived. Instead-to my great relief-I learned they would be arriving at the beginning of November! 

Ntate Tau adding drinkers to the chicken cages.

Over the next three weeks, every moment that I was not away to assist with Pre-Service Training for the newest members of Peace Corps Lesotho, I was working with Bo-'M'e to ensure we were ready. Ntate Tau, our chicken cage designer, returned a few times to install the chicken cages. His workdays were some of the most fun as we chatted extensively about numerous topics while he worked.

Three Photo Thursday-3 November

Burglar Bars Make a Happy Beth!

After I wrote about the Burglar Bar Busts, I began to wonder if the chicken coop would ever be completed. Thanks to the help of the wonderful Peace Corps staff, we got connected with a true professional. Within a week of giving us our quote, the burglar bars were finally in place.

Now we are finished up a few things-like buying food and cage installation-before the chickens arrive. Then my work is done and the women in MCCC will really need to get to work!!!

You can make anything out of plastic bags-even jump ropes!

 I love walking through the village in the late afternoons when all the kids are out playing. On this day, I bumped into some of my favorite girls jumping rope using plastic bags they had re-purposed. I love the ingenuity of kids when pre-designed toys are not readily available!

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.

Camp BRO Butha Buthe-Empowering Men in Gender Equality

Boys practice leadership by leading one another through a
minefield of over one hundred chairs.

It is Saturday morning. I stand up to add a few questions to my friend and fellow PCV Rachel's session on power in relationships and consent. 

She had started the session with a fantastic game in which some of the boys had all the power and the remaining boys were powerless; in this case, forced to do whatever the other boys told them to do. As her discussion wound down, it seemed like not everyone has followed the jump from their feelings during the game to the discussion in sexual relationships. 

I ask them why girls do not walk along near sunset. "Because they will be raped Madam," a bright young man named T'sepo tells me. I then ask why girls will travel longer routes to avoid bars or isolated areas. A multitude of boys jump in, replying, "They will be raped."

I explain that unwanted sex is painful-physically, mentally, and emotionally. I ask them if they want their mothers, their sisters, and their future wives living through something so devastating. I share that Lesotho has the third highest rate of reported rapes in the world. The boys quickly point out that most women do not report because they will be beaten, stigmatized, or even killed.

I remind the boys that they have been chosen as leaders for Camp BRO-Boys Respecting Others-and as leaders in their schools and communities, they are the ones with the power to change things.

I see nods of agreement with all these things until a boy in the front row politely asked, " But Madam, what if a girl is torturing me by wearing a short skirt?"

From there, the discussion gets lively as my Mosotho friend Julia and I try to encourage their discussion and open their minds.

Three Photo Thursday-20 October

Boys raise their hands, eager to participate in the session on Power in Relationships and Consent.

I spent most of this week at Camp BRO Botha Bothe. My friend and the local Ministry of Youth representative organized this boys’ camp to promote gender equality and opened it up to participants from every single school in the district! It was an amazingly good time-and my favorite of the camps I have helped out at thus far in Lesotho. Come back on Monday for more on Camp BRO BB!

Emily rolling her first tortillas!

One of the best parts about Peace Corps’ Pre-Service Training is that we try to follow the Experiential Learning Cycle throughout the training process. For example, when trainees arrive in Lesotho, they move into a host family’s home and begin living like Basotho immediately. Then, in their language and culture sessions, they discuss what that is like before learning why things happen the way they do and reflecting on the experience. Another great example of this is called HVV or the Host Volunteer Visit. This week, all fifty-seven trainees visited currently serving volunteers to see how we live and work in our various communities. When they return to training, they will share and reflect on their experiences to gain a better idea of the life of Peace Corps Volunteers throughout Lesotho. My guest for the week was a trainee named Emily. The people in my village were-as always-thrilled to meet another volunteer and loved when she tested out her growing language skills by greeting them and discussing where she currently lives. Emily, in turn, loved the chance to learn how to cook like an American in Lesotho—especially how to bake on a stovetop and how to make tortillas!

Giving instructions to grade five in Sesotho and English.

As always, teaching life skills is a highlight of my week whenever I am at site. This week, sadly, I did not get to teach my oldest students as they have begun writing their nationalized exams to complete primary school. I taught the younger students about the physical changes that occur during puberty. In both grade four and grade five, the teachers were thrilled that I was discussing puberty with the children. In grade six, we had already covered puberty, so today we discussed HIV. Eleven students volunteered to pull an item out of my grab bag. They then had to explain to everyone else what that item had to do with HIV transmission. For the most part, they did a great job, however, I had them completely stumped when a boy pulled out a spoon. It was a trick item, as a spoon has nothing to do with HIV transmission-sharing silverware with or eating food prepared by an HIV positive individual will not transmit HIV and ensuring everyone understands that is just one way of trying to decrease stigma around HIV. 

The Exciting End of Secondary School

Hanging with Thabo and his best friend

Last year I promised my brother Thabo that if I stayed in Lesotho, I would attend his Form E Farewell. This is the local equivalent of a graduation ceremony; however, students finishing secondary school do not get a diploma as part of the ceremony. Typically the ceremony occurs just before the students begin writing their nationalized exams. If they pass these exams they will get a certificate showing they have completed secondary school. Graduation ceremonies are reserved for tertiary and university educations.

I was coming to the ceremony from the Peace Corps training village, so Thabo had arranged for one of his teachers to greet me and to store my backpack safely in the staff room for the duration of the event. Miraculously, my host mother, ‘M’e ‘Masekila arrived just after I took my seat and we were able to sit together.

Reading the program, I was surprised to see my brother was giving a speech!

As I looked at the program, I was both filled with pride and annoyed. My brother was giving a speech but had not told me about it! I had to learn it when I saw his name in the program. My pride only continued to grow when the Form E Boys Choir began performing and I realized he was leading the choir too!!

Three Photo Thursday- 13 October

The Form E students singing during their celebration.

On Friday, I awoke before dawn and donned my party dress (literally). As early as possible, I was on a taxi leaving the Peace Corps training village bound for my brother Thabo’s Form E Farewell. Form E is the local equivalent of Senior Year. Instead of a graduation ceremony, schools do a Farewell Ceremony before the students write their exams. Their exams are nationalized and they must pass in order to earn the certificate (like a diploma). I had promised Thabo last year that if I was still in Lesotho, I would be in attendance for his ceremony. It was amazing. For six hours I watched students dance, sing, and give speeches before we ate a meal and headed home. It was my proudest moment in Lesotho thus far, however, I will discuss that more in Monday’s blog post!

Heather shows her awe at our waffle breakfasts...after enjoying a milkshake as a pre-breakfast treat!

A few weeks ago, I realized that inside my own head I was frustrated more often than usual and becoming more negative. I spent a walk stewing about it on my way to town and realized that since January 1^st I had taken a total of three vacation days! That same morning I learned I was not needed for an activity I had promised to help with and another PCV mentioned he was headed to Clarens for that weekend. Within two hours of my realization, I had a mini-vacation trip to Clarens planned. Having been to Clarens for the other vacation days I took this year, I was not there to sightsee. I was there for amazing food, dark beer, my friends’ tattoos, and my own pedicure. For two days, that was all we did and it was exactly what I needed!

Finally! Burglar Proofing is Installed!

The week ended with some huge excitement. Only a week after giving me a quote for burglar proofing the chickenhouse, the third and final contractor we hired called to say that installation was happening…that day! I had to scramble to rearrange my schedule for the day-I was supposed to be finalizing things for the boys’ camp that was about to start-and then get back to my village from town. But, by mid-afternoon, the entire chicken house was finally burglar proofed. Considering my frustration less than two weeks earlier, this was an incredibly exciting turn of events.

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.

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. 

Books for Life Book Club

Life is better with books. 

Books fresh out of the box the day they arrived at my hut

About a year ago, an NGO called Trees for Life donated two boxes of children’s books to my host organization (MCCC) through their Books for Life program. Although a number of neighborhood kids read them at my house immediately after I opened the first box, it took a few months for the women to decide the best way to put this donation to use.

It was finally decided that we would start an English Reading Club for school children. Our goal was to get some high school students to take leadership of the group; to plan and read with the younger children. It was a brilliant plan, as it would increase the community engagement and English skills of both age groups. After a few attempts to do leadership training with high school students chosen by my organization to lead the club, we realized that high school students are exceedingly busy between school, traveling to and from school, homework, and their chores. They simply were not interested or motivated to use their small amount of free time to lead the club.

My counterpart and a dozen children reading at one of our
first book club meetings. 

As a result, my counterpart, Ausi ‘Mareisi, and I stepped in to get things started. We are still hoping others will take on the leadership of the club over time, but at least for the moment children are getting the opportunity to read books in English. They practice reading the books aloud to one another, which is helping to bridge the gap between their abilities to read and write English compared to hearing and speaking it.

There is nothing quite as exciting as watching a child who rarely gets to look at a stack of books reverently pick up one and start sounding out the words within it.

Boys with Toys

I have been promising this mini-adventure for over two months. The combination of too windy days, cold, and a busy schedule have meant that every time my youngest brother knocks and asks if today is the day, I answer with a maybe or a no.

This morning I wanted to continue the trend. After three weeks with no down time, I really just want to hide in my house. I do not want to go out and play when I finish working today.

But, my host brother’s earnest face as he tells me it is not too windy and my own guilt spur me into action. I assure him that we will go fly the kite after I get home.

When I was traveling in the Caribbean, I was always impressed by the ingenuity of children. Many boys used plastic bags and sticks to create colorful kites. Although the children here are equally creative, kites have not been included among the many wonderful toys I have seen created over the last two years. As a result, my brother is enthralled with this small colorful kite my friend Jen sent me.

He has no idea what we will do with it; just that it is shiny, flutters on its hook when we open my door, and that I keep saying it cannot be too windy when we play with it.

He eagerly skips ahead of me as we head out to an open space not far from our home. The next oldest brother is planning to join us, but I know that Abuti Polau is excited to be the first to play with the kite.

Although the wind is intermittent, we are able to get the little frog (less than four square inches) flying after only a few attempts. The kite’s long blue tails dance in the wind as my brother learns to feed it string and take the string in when the wind speed dips. As Abuti Polau becomes an expert, our sixteen-year-old brother joins us. Not surprisingly, he also figures out how to work the kite in no time at all.

Purchased toys are rarely seen in my village. Most children are able to get creative. I have seen wires turned into cars, a homemade guitar, and pieces of cardboard turned into sleds on the grass. I am always impressed by how little the kids around me need fancy plastic toys shipped from China. Their creativity in turning things into games and toys always impresses me, especially when compared with all the toys we grow up with in America. 

That does not, however, diminish the fun in sharing a new toy with my brothers! 

Chicken Coop Construction: Weeks 2-4

Week Two:

The view from the door includes a...floor!

Although I was away from site for the second week of construction, the building team was eager to move forward. Unfortunately, as they prepared to begin putting on the roof, they discovered we did not have enough cement bricks remaining to elevate the high side of the roof.

They send me a message letting me know and attempted to get the women in my organization to come up with a solution. Bricks and other building supplies are, apparently, an exception to the Basotho tradition of borrowing things that are needed. As a result, no bricks could even be ordered until the morning I returned, five days after it was determined we needed fifty more bricks.

The guys did break with building tradition though, pouring the concrete floor even though the roof was not yet in place. They even created a step up to the door, which was a pleasant surprise for me.

Week Three:

Week Three started with me buying more bricks. When asked, the brick-makers assured me that they would deliver within the week, but probably on Monday. This would mean that the work could be completed on either Monday or Tuesday. My host brother and I stressed the importance of receiving the bricks as soon as possible so we could finish work before he and other students had to return to school.

Constructing the beams for the roof

Mother Nature decided to surprise Lesotho with precipitation on both Monday and Tuesday, so the bricks never materialized. Throughout the week, we kept an eye out for them. Finally, on Saturday afternoon, they arrived.

Week Four:

Although I was at (another) Peace Corps workshop in anticipation of the upcoming Pre-Service Training, the team got to work after the bricks arrived. When I returned home on Friday, I hopped out at the building site to check in and see their progress.

Surprisingly, the fifty bricks I bought two weeks earlier were not actually enough to finish things up. I learned that we would need 32 more bricks! Anticipating another long walk to the brickyard and a lengthy delay waiting for delivery, I was a disappointed.

Our need for only these 35 bricks had the potential to slow
the project down by another week or two!

I stopped by my supervisor’s house and spoke with the MCCC members there. We started brainstorming people in the village who might have some extra bricks we could buy instead. By the time I left, my supervisor had agreed to ask her son if we could buy his. Saturday morning, I headed over to learn if I needed to hoof it to the brickyard before they closed at one.

Thankfully, my supervisor’s son was thrilled to sell us 35 bricks he had leftover from a previous project. He kept telling me that I was actually helping him more than he was helping us (lies!). As a result, Week Five will dawn with a Sunday workday and the guys anticipate being done by Tuesday afternoon. 

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

Chicken Coop Construction: Day Two

The walls are growing, albeit more slowly than any of us anticipated. Building started “on time” at nine, but the first few hours were a methodical exercise in precision as the two lead builders checked angles and levels repeatedly.

Once the base layer was in place, the pace picked up dramatically. The next three layers of bricks taking the same amount of time as the first one.

Abuti Sama cuts the plastic to
the correct size.

The glitch of the day was minor. I was asked for the roll of black plastic that acts as a moisture barrier. I proudly pulled out the giant 3m by 30m plastic we bought…only to learn the hundreds I spent was for naught; I should have purchased a roll of 15cm-wide black plastic for less than fifty Maloti.

The miscommunication showed itself as my friend and I discussed what he told me before I went to the supply store. When he described the plastic, he said it was “for the floor” so I bought enough to cover the entire floor. What was actually needed was to go around the edge of the floor. Out came a hacksaw and we cut the edge of my giant roll to achieve the needed dimensions. Internally I lamented the waste of money until my friend told me we would use the plastic on the floor too, since we have it.

At lunch time, the man building out chicken cages delivered. They do not look like much yet, but he will return in a few weeks to install them with feeders, drinkers, and tubing to fill the drinkers.

Watching the precision and craft that went into making everything level and strong, I feel much better about paying the builders today.

I spent the day trying to help. Women do not typically help in construction, so my efforts were not always encouraged. The guys, most of whom are my friends and one is my brother, would tease me until I jumped in to load, unload, or carry the bricks. Then, they would stop me, telling me I am strong my hands are too soft.

Sometimes I wish these guys could have seen me sail. 

The chicken coop at the end of day two.

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

Chicken Coop Construction: Day One

After over a year of planning, Construction Week has arrived. Although I have been out of site for the last week, Bo-‘M’e and I planned everything before I left. Yesterday a youth club was scheduled to gather the first 400L of water for us. Everything should be ready to go this morning…

In our prior conversations, my friend-and lead on design and construction-has assured me that it will take only three to four days to complete the simple 4m by 8m cement brick structure. We could be done as early as Wednesday…

I arrive anticipating a day full of people and construction, children pouring out to help fetch water and bricks. In my head, the sides will be nearing completion by sunset.

With over two years adapting to Basotho culture, I should know better than to create such visions. I should know there are normal aspects of culture I have not yet encountered. I should anticipate that my careful planning and exhaustive questions have not made me an expert in local construction.

Instead, my arrival is welcomed with the news that our volunteer labor insists on being paid half the going rate for a building this size. The price seems astronomical to me, but in my absence, Bo-‘M’e have already agreed to pay it out of their income from Achaar and our future egg earnings.

My friend hears the frustration in my voice and gently reminds me that paying for labor is culturally normal here. He was the exception in January when his friends joined him in building for free. Although I have been blindsided, I gradually accept the news and move on.

Although Bo-‘M’e, who are almost never on time, and I arrive between 9 and 10, work does not actually begin until nearly noon.

The guys begin by measuring and marking the corners of the foundation. Measuring and marking again, measuring and correcting marks again. As time moves and they continue measuring and re-measuring, I realize how foolish my visualizations for the day were. Walls simply cannot go up today. While I stewed through the morning awaiting the onset of work, the builders all knew that their only labor for today would be the foundation. A well measured and precise foundation is far more important than my off-base dreams.

Abuti Sama and Abuti Thabo measuring for
the foundation.

By lunch, the guys have finished digging the foundation. Immediately following our meal, six bags of cement are mixed and poured. Despite my very American impatience at starting so late, clean-up is completed by 3:30 and the foundation is left to set overnight.

The guys digging the foundation.

It was a stressful morning with more internal frustration than was warranted. At the same time, it serves as an important reminder that two years in a culture does not erase thirty-three years learning and living in a different one. Every one of my irritations stemmed from an American mindset in a place dramatically different from America.

Mixing and loading cement

Pouring the foundation

Small Blessings in a Hungry World

Lesotho and Southern Africa continue to face a drought. (If this is news to you check out Dust in the Wind and Drought Update) Now that harvest time has come a gone, the impact of not growing food for this year is becoming more apparent.

Maizemeal with a sticker denoting its subsidized price. 

The Lesotho government, with help from some outside nations, has done two big things to alleviate the struggle of rising food costs in the country. For the next year, they are subsidizing peas, beans, and maizemeal grown and produced in Lesotho by thirty percent.

As my host family prepared to harvest their maize a few weeks ago, my brother gleefully told me that this year the government was not “taxing” their crops. Typically, the Ministry of Agriculture provides manure and pesticides to the villagers. Instead of paying in advance for these important tools, villagers “pay” the government with a certain amount of their crops. From my understanding, this varies depending on the yield and the number of people in the family, so that, in theory at least; each family comes away from harvest with enough maize and/or sorghum to feed themselves until the next harvest.

Because so few people were able to grow crops and the crops that did grow started months later than usual, the government is not taking its usual percentage.

Typically, my villagers harvest in blocks, working together to harvest each field in the block as a group. This community effort makes harvesting easier, especially determining the government’s portion. This year, however, each family is harvesting for themselves. For families with their own wagon and cows, that is not necessarily a hardship, however, for those without large numbers or livestock, it is definitely harder to accomplish without hiring other people to help.

The first load of maize coming in from my family's field.

The lack of tax on the crops combined with good field locations near the Caledonspoort River means that my host family’s harvest yielded almost as much maize as they brought home last year. I consider this to be a huge blessing as I have been worried about their ability to buy maize throughout the coming year. Even my brother Thabo had been wondering if they would be able to afford food for the year. When he told me we would get to keep all our maize, he was equally excited to relate that perhaps that means they would still be able to buy flour this year.

I am thrilled that my family has been blessed in this way even though such a feeling also yield guilt knowing thousands of families that are not mine are facing a year without any crops to celebrate. Still, I cannot help but celebrate that the family that has generously shared a home and love will have food to eat. 

Indian Prayers

In early January, I posted a hugely popular post about Natasha and Prien’s Wedding. I intentionally omitted a key aspect of the wedding: the fact that neither Natasha’s mother nor father were present.

Despite the joy the wedding presented, there was a somber note as well. Every time that reference was made to the bride’s father, shadows passed over the faces of all in the ceremony. Natasha’s father had passed away only six days before the wedding.

As a result, my lessons on Indian wedding traditions included a brief foray into Indian funeral traditions. For example, much as there are a series of rituals that occur in the week leading up to a wedding, there are a series of prayers held on specific days following someone’s death. While Indian weddings are brightly colored affairs, white is the color of mourning.

And, much like Basotho grieving customs, the wife of a deceased man must stay home until the first series of rituals have been concluded, in this case, sixteen days, which is why Natasha’s mother was also unable to attend the wedding.

Natasha’s father, George, had been sick and while he was hoping to survive to attend the wedding, he had also been adamant that the wedding go on as planned. As a result, the couple honored her father by moving forward.

The more I learn about Indian culture, the more I appreciate it. Much like in Basotho culture, grief does not end at the conclusion of the rituals in the first sixteen days. There are specific moments throughout the following year for prayers. In June, my dear friend Venilla invited me to join her family for the six month prayers following her husband’s death.

At Venilla’s request, I arrived early for the prayers with my sari in tow. We finished working in the kitchen, preparing the food for the prayers while laughing together. The meals for the prayers are all vegetarian, to maintain mourning.

As we finished cooking, the oldest daughter still at home set up the ritual area. It included a variety of foods for her father, incense, and flame. We changed into our outfits and began the prayers.

I remembered from the wedding that the ritual area is sacred and therefore we approach barefoot-a cold task in Lesotho’s winter months! Starting with Venilla, we each took a turn kneeling and saying prayers.

As we finished, we left the room so that the deceased could come and eat the food laid out for him. It would remain there for a few hours and would be sprinkled with water before being cleared.   

 As we transitioned into the dining room to dig in, our somber mood was released and we celebrated dining together. As usual, Venilla insisted I eat more food than I could manage and her children kept us all entertained.

Finally, just before sunset, after too many photos and too much food, I headed home, filled with joy at being included once again as a part of the Naidoo family, even in the difficult moments.