Ngoana oa Trump? (A child of Trump?)

"Whatever America hopes to bring to pass in the world
must first come to pass in the heart of America."
                             -Republican President Dwight D. Eisenhower

Hopping out of a car this morning, the driver turned to me and said, in Sesotho, "Uena, u ngoana oa Trump" or "You, you're a child of Trump."

I rolled my eyes and told him I was sad about the election. As I walked away, I nearly cried.

I have been in Lesotho for almost two and half years, serving the people of Lesotho and the government of America.

In 2014, I was here for what the US State Department defined as a "coup-like event". The military assisted in removing the Prime Minister from power, however, they did not claim control over the country. We PCVs were forced to sit around in South Africa for three weeks before we could return to our homes.

In 2015, I got to watch this small, peaceful, resilient country hold special elections. After a week of Basotho listening to the radio nonstop, coalitions were formed and a new part gained the top office.

The political situation here is still not perfect-no political situation is. Newspapers print headlines daily calling attention to drama within and among the top political parties. Even today there are stories of a possible peaceful change of power in the parliament.

All of this politicking, however, lives only in the political sphere. At no time have I heard a single statement about a single politician's personal attributes, home life, or families. Every comment I have heard has been strictly about their work, action, beliefs, and role in politics.

America, we could learn something from Lesotho. 

In 2016, the tables turned. Instead of me, the American, seeing Lesotho's electoral process, the people of Lesotho were watching America's political process...closely.

Three Photo Thursday-29 September

Back in January, one of my villagers began construction on her huge house. I mentioned it at the end of Constructing Dreams. For eight months, the walls sat, completed, waiting for the roofing process to begin. To roof a large cement block house like this first involves building up the walls anywhere the roof will by high, before actually attaching the roof.

I had begin to think I would not see the house completed, however, this week the roofing supplies arrived and workers began the roofing process. Here the workers are adding the cement bricks that will support the roof on their first day of work. 

Although harvest in Lesotho was months ago-in July-much of my family's maize is still sitting on the cobs waiting for my host mother to have time to remove it. She is simply too busy with work, caring for the boys, and church to also spend hours separating the dried corn from the cobs.

This week, however, my nkhono or grandmother came to help as the family needed to grind more maize into powder for papa.  She spent two days just sitting in the shade working away-occasionally yelling at the pig for trying to come and sneak some food. It was great to have her visit and a boon to my mother to have the help around the house.

Over the course of the political primary, many Basotho would ask me about the American election and when I would be returning to vote. Having watched a number of villagers who work abroad return home for their own special election in February 2015, their question made sense to me. In order to avoid voter fraud, Basotho must vote in person.

Those conversations have highlighted for me, yet again, how lucky I am to be American. Obviously, I would not be a US Peace Corps volunteer living in Lesotho if I were not American, but, that aside, I am able to vote from Lesotho with little hassle. I signed up for my absentee ballot early on in the primary process (although sadly, not early enough to cast my ballot in New Hampshire in January). From there, I simply waited until my town clerk emailed it to me. Forty-eight hours later I found myself researching the New Hampshire gubernatorial candidates and presto, I have voted…five Tuesdays before America goes to the polls. And, since there is no postal strike in South Africa this year, unlike in 2014’s election months, my ballot should make it home and get counted! 

Lesotho Elections

Regular readers will remember that Lesotho had an attempted coup at the end of August, which led to all PCVs spending an anxiety-riddled three weeks in South Africa (see Consolidation Vacation and Consolidation Continues). Thankfully, things settled down though the same agreements that allowed us to return to our homes called for elections in February 2015.

Campaigners dancing at the gas
station on their way home from a rally.

As a result, the new year has been filled with a sea of brightly colored Basotho campaigning in villages, towns, and especially Maseru. As early as Christmas, people on taxis asked me if I would be voting, who I supported, and what I thought. My answer was always the same as I explained that PCVs are not allowed to be involved in local politics or share opinions on local politics.

As the election loomed, PCV chatter centered around how it may impact our service. In 1998, PCVs were consolidated after riots broke out in Maseru in response to the election outcome. South Africa sent in security forces and people died. From what I have heard, the political climate leading up to the 1998 elections was less tense than it has been since June when the Prime Minister dissolved the parliament. As a result, we all wondered what Peace Corps would do and whether we would again be living the not-so-dope hotel life.  

Thankfully, that did not happen. For the days surrounding the election, we were expected to lay low in our villages, but to continue with normal life while avoiding polling places and large gatherings. This was incredibly easy to do in my village, especially since it ended up being a very gray and rainy set of days, which pretty much changes normal life to staying home for most villagers anyway.

My brother showing off the mark that he voted.
As a nineteen year old, this was his first time voting!

After the elections, conversations around the village centered on the results. Starting the evening of the election, people spent more time around their radios, responding loudly whenever a positive announcement came in for the party most favored in the village. Through the night and into Sunday morning, I could hear people's reactions from my own hut.

More official announcements came in throughout the week, showing the party of the Prime Minister with a slight lead over the party of the previous Prime Minister, whose party had been in control until the Prime Minister's party managed a coalition to take control in the 2012 election. This had my villagers thrilled. But, the previous Prime Minister learned and in the end was able to take control in the same manner as he had lost it, forming a coalition with a number of parties to just barely secure a majority in parliament and therefore return to being Prime Minister.

This was announced late in the week. As I traveled for a committee meeting over the weekend, I was reminded of sports fans following a championship game—people in the parties that formed the winning coalition were decked out in party gear throughout the five districts I passed through. The level of enthusiasm for the election far outlasting any political engagement I have seen in the United States.

Those who supported the outgoing party seem to be taking things well, expressing joy that the process was peaceful rather than their disappointment in not winning. That said, they still have a large representation in the new parliament and can celebrate having taken far more voting areas this year than in previous elections.

Similarly, we PCVs are celebrating the fact that the election process has been far more peaceful than it could have been. I have never been so happy to say I did not travel!