Moments Make A Day

I quietly close the gate, trying futilely to be invisible as the villagers at the pitso all look at me. I am skipping this community meeting in favor of attending the send off for the seventh graders at the school where I teach Life Skills.

As I walk, I am greeted by two women. After the proper greetings in Sesotho, one says, “When you go?” in English. I look at her, clearly confused, so she repeats herself.

Still lost, I ask in English, “how did I go or when did I go?”

She breaks into a beaming smile, says yes, and then thanks me profusely before heading on her way again. As I walk away, I am stupefied. Was she asking me how my trip was? When my trip was? Or When will I leave Lesotho for good?

Has she asked any of these questions in Sesotho, I would have had no problem understanding her, however, she wanted to use her rudimentary English. This is probably how my Sesotho comes across at times; close but completely incomprehensible.

***

The message the students shared with me at their
closing ceremony: "We would like to thank you Madam Thato
for everything you did to us as Grade 7. We promise you that
 we are going to pass. We will always miss you a lot. Thankx."

Some schools have big parties to celebrate the departure of the seventh graders following their national exams. My school, however, cannot afford to feed everyone, so our send off is subdued. Each student receives some sweets, fruits, a package of cookies, and a loaf of bread. The teachers, including me, each say a few words.

The students rise and thank me in unison for my work with them this year. Then, they sing for us. Finally, the principal challenges them to succeed in high school and lets them know that their results should be in before the school closes in a month.

And with that, they are done with their free education. They will not know until later whether they have passed their exams or will return to Standard 7 again next year. Those who pass will be able to go on to secondary or high school, if their families can afford it.

I know these twenty-seven teens will hold a special place in my memory. Being a small class, the oldest, and the most proficient at English; I got to know them better as individuals than my other classes. And still, I realize how little I know some of them outside of the school.

Only today I learned that the most proficient English speaker in the class, a lovely, bright young woman, is an orphan. She currently lives with her uncle, who takes little interest in her and her education. The principal and I discussed her intended meeting with the uncle. She is going to challenge him to help his niece apply for the government sponsorship so that she can attend secondary school. Over the past few years, teachers at the school have helped find uniform items for this student so she could continue to attend. Assuming her uncle helps her apply for sponsorship, she will need all new uniforms next year. I suggested also pushing him to speak with the Ministry of Social Development as they are starting to help orphans with uniform items and sometimes even with food so that they can attend secondary school. Hopefully, she will be able to continue attending school, as she is simply too bright to stop at such a young age.

***

Later in the day, I want to a friend's. On my way, I bump into another friend of mine. After weeks without seeing one another, we catch up on life. I continue on my walk happy to have such great friends and interactions in my village.

My friend's husband is in the hospital, his cancer having spread to his bones allowing a simple fall to break his hip. I offer her support and commend her energy despite being divided between the shop they have, tending her children, and visiting her husband. Even though life is so difficult for her at the moment, she gives me a cold soda from her stock when I depart the shop.

***

When I return home, I anxiously check my email. This morning I sent a friend in Charleston an article for Charleston Daily. He is a gifted writer and published poet so I am nervously waiting to see what he thinks of my writing. I want to jump for joy when I see his response telling me that the article is just beautiful. Not long afterwards, he emails me the link to the published article.

***

In the evening, my brother, Thabo, comes in for my Sesotho lesson. We talk and bond for an hour before the other brothers join us for our movie time. After my brothers say goodnight, I prepare for bed, overjoyed by the little moments that make each day different and special in this beautiful country.  ***

Guest Blogger: Flat Stanley!

Hey World! I'm Navajo Flat Stanley and I met Beth at her home in America last week. Since we are travel buddies for the moment, she said I could write a blog post for her.

I'm from Crownpoint, New Mexico and have been sent out to see the world by the students of Crownpoint Elementary School. Crownpoint is part of the Navajo Nation. Before I met Beth, I had traveled to Massachusetts and Georgia.

I am learning that the world is really small. When I was in Georgia, Beth was wading through massive flooding in nearby Charleston, South Carolina. She says traveling over forty hours from her hut to the Holy City was worth it as she saw over twenty of her closest friends and was there for her friend Sara's wedding. I'm not sure I would be good at wading through that flooding though, as I'm less than a foot tall!

While I traveled from Georgia to New England, Beth visited her father and grandfather in Newport. Then, it was the New Hampshire and Maine area for time with more family. Apparently even though she has bunches of friends in New England, she used all her time for family...well, family and me!

We went to Wells Beach to see the Atlantic Ocean. It was so big and blue! As we traveled, I got to see the beautiful colors that leaves in New England become in the fall-reds, yellows, and oranges! They don't do that back home!

Soon, we said goodbye to Beth's family and were at Boston Logan Airport where I got to taste my first Dunkin Donuts coffee while we waited to start the first of three flights to Lesotho-where Beth lives now.

I slept through most of the flights, even the fifteen hour one! At each airport, the bag I was relaxing in got searched. At first I thought it was my fault but at JFK airport the TSA rep said the smelly candles next to me looked suspicious.

15 hours on a large plane and still smiling!

Lesotho is a lot different than New England. The first few days we were in the capital city, Maseru, and spent a lot of time in the Peace Corps office. Finally, we left for Beth's village. Her village has about 500 families. Like my own community, it is about an hour to get to a real grocery store, but there are a few tiny shops in case people are unable to make the trip. Since most people do not have cars, that is probably important!

Lesotho looks a bit like home, which makes me a little homesick. There are even people keeping goats and sheep, just like the elders back home do.

I'll write another blog post about our adventures together in Beth's village before I hit the post office to fly on toward my next destination!

I'm glad this isn't the same Atlantic Ocean I saw in Wells.
This is from when Beth was in Charleston.

Beth with her sister, cousin, and cousin's son in Wells.

Oops, I forgot to put this up above. When Beth was in Maine,
she became a godmother, again! That's her new goddaughter
in her arms! 

Thanks world, 

                      ~Flat Stanley

Morning Reflection-NYE

I'm sitting outside my hut, on an old sheet to keep the light colored pants Debbie gave me clean rather than to appease the Basotho concerns of cold cement causing hemorrhoids. My feet luxuriate in the soft sand that comprises our front yard. Most mornings are too hot and too sunny for this, however, today is gray with just enough humidity to make the occasional light breeze welcome instead of cold.

I sip my coffee and consider making a second cup. This time last year, the consideration would have been a second pot, as the second cup was a given, but now real coffee is a luxury usually shipped by a generous and loving person back home.

In the distance, I can hear villagers shrieks of joy-it is New Year's Eve after all. Next door, I hear Ntate Thamahane conducting village business. Occasionally my quiet morning is interrupted by a villager walking to the chief's place, which requires we go through the usual Basotho greetings.

Relishing my bare feet in the sand, I remember an older man at Three Mile Island last summer telling me he believes people should have a physical connection to the Earth as often as possible for health reasons. While this sounds like the musings of a back to nature person, he was otherwise a very conservation and professional individual. I remember we discussed the way sea turtles us the Earth's magnetic force to direct thousand miles journeys (because I always want to discuss sea turtles) and that we too should allow our bodies to experience that connection to the Earth. Now, a year and a half later, I am sitting on the other wise of the world, fully appreciating that connection.

As New Year's Eve often induces reflection, I cannot help but wonder at all the paths that led me to this moment. It seems like every stepping stone has focused on connection and simplicity, often removing those things that separate us from such a connection. How many of my jobs have put me in a place to experience life without the usual trappings of electricity and the modern world: television, unlimited high-speed internet, regular hot showers, traditional flush toilets, etc.

In a world filled with reaching towards the next big thing-be it the newest iPhone, marriage, kids, a mortgage, or a new car-I find myself stepping away; craving and pursuing jobs that are lifestyles in simplicity. The immense peace I feel sitting on the cement, leaning on my dung and mud hut on this gray day is the same as I captured when at sea, grading handwritten essays on the deck of a schooner. It is the same as I found sitting on the deck of my cabin during a summer thunderstorm at Three Mile Island. It is the same as I enjoyed each early morning walk down to Nikana Lodge at Camp Pendalouan, looking out at Big Blue Lake's serene facade in the silence just before camp truly awoke. It is early mornings and late nights in Charleston, sitting on the Spirit of South Carolina while looking out over the harbor and marveling that life brought these moments over and over again.

Fifteen years ago, none of these were on my list of dreams. I graduated high school and started college in pursuit of suits and salaries; the American dream. Somehow, despite my desire to be unique, I followed the cliché and found myself during those college years. In doing so, I realized the reality of a career indoors, of reaching for promotions, of following the usual path set out by the game of Life (graduate, job, wedding, house, babies...) unpalatable. Thanks to a simple daysail on Niagara with my mom and a summer of fitness and hiking in Maine, I realized there were other options and the only limiting factor was me.

And so, I find myself in the perfect place this New Year's Eve morning: sitting outside, barefoot, with that second cup of coffee. As the hot summer sun begins to burn its way through the clouds and will soon chase me inside, I cannot help but look ahead to 2015 with excitement. It may be the only year of my life spent exclusively outside of my home country. I doubt it will be filled with only the serenity I feel in this moment, but I can always return to my happy place: barefoot, outside, with coffee. And, I will always appreciate the simplicity of life in a place where my slowest walk is regularly commented on as too fast. 

Special thanks to Mom, Julie P, and Eric G for supporting this moment through gifts of coffee.