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. 

My New Approach to Proposals

In the last few months, talk of my anticipated departure has monopolized conversations with community members. Although my cohort's scheduled close of service is still more than four months away, people have amusing reactions to the impending date. 

Some people react with shock, amazed like I am that two years can pass so quickly. 

Others, after not seeing me around for a week or so, greet me with relief and joy, thrilled to learn I have not yet departed.

Most tell me I am simply not allowed to return home for a few more years. 

Most surprising, however, is the huge number of people bringing up a topic previously ignored within my home community: my marital status. 

I noted in Love and Marriage that the guys in my village were well prepared for my arrival, the chief making it clear that I was not to be pursued. Similarly, when I first arrived, women would ask about a husband or children in American and then drop the subject when learning I have neither. 

Now, however, my marital status is a hot topic. Everyone wants me to marry. The women I work with insist I need to marry and stay in our community. Uncles, mothers, and grandparents of male friends offer to talk to my family in America to negotiate my bride price, as that is the responsibility of the family here in Lesotho. 

The other day, a man who regularly tells my brother that his in love with me—which has turned into quite the joke between them as Abuti Thabo heckles him whenever we cross his path—asked me if my husband had visited that morning. Although I understood his Sesotho, I was so confused I made him repeat himself, twice.

Apparently, the male driver of the Peace Corps car that had visited that morning is, or should be, my husband.

I can see the growth in my cultural understanding and acceptance. When I arrived, this focus on my husband (or lack thereof) would have frustrated me to no end. I spent my whole first year in Lesotho collecting stories of ridiculous pick up lines and women from outside my community insisting I would marry their son only minutes after telling me their sons all had wives.

When I wrote about my favorite pick up lines (See Love and Marriage, above) from the first year, I fully intended to do a follow up a year later with more gems. Now, I cannot even remember any from the last few weeks! It is not that men have stopped proposing, I simply stopped paying attention when they do. Instead of fixating on how dramatically their proposals and declarations offend my American culture, I have moved into full acceptance of their Basotho culture. I simply laugh and joke with them before moving on to less boring topics.

Similarly, as my community tries to marry me off before I finish my Peace Corps service, I am able to laugh, recognizing that they are not trying to control me or diminish my adventurous spirit. They are simply making it clear that they love me and that I truly belong. They do not want me to leave and the best way to keep me close is to have me settle down with a husband and children.

So I take the compliment with joy and continue to nicely refuse generous offers. 

Love and Marriage? My Top Five Pick Up Lines After a Year in Lesotho

Rocking the twins look with 'M'e Lineo-
black shirt and skinny jeans.

“When it comes to Basotho men and PCVs, you're the one I feel the worst for. I know how much you must get hit on because African men love curvy women. Add your Sesotho ability and your friendly personality and you are irresistible to men!” 'M'e Lineo (din-ay-o), another PCV's counterpart, said to me recently.

I do not feel the need to compare whether or not Lineo is right about me getting hit on more than the average female PCV in Lesotho. The reality is, we are all hit on...a lot. Basotho culture allows men to be more forward than American culture and as Americans we are considered particularly desirable. Being “curvy” is considered particularly attractive here as it implies one is wealthy enough to eat well and is healthy (being skinny is thought to denote diseases such as HIV).

As a result, it is quite common to hear things like:

“Kea u rata” (Kay-ya u rah-tah) or I love you.

“Ke batla u nyala” (Kay bah-tlah u knee-ya-la) or I want to marry you.

“Na, u na le monna?” (nah, u nah-lay moan-ah) or Do you have a husband?

“Ke tla u nyala” (Kay tlah u knee-ya-la) or I will marry you.

“U na le moklankana, kae?” (U nah-lay mow-clahnk-ah-na, kie?) or You have a boyfriend, where?

“Mosali oa ka...” (Mow-saw-dee wa caw) or My wife....

Having multiple concurrent partners or multiple wives is not uncommon, especially for men. (This is one of the reasons Lesotho's HIV rate is so high) I have also been told by my language tutor that people here believe that once women are in their thirties, they need to be having regular sex. As a result, it is simply incomprehensible that I do not need a man or men during my time living here.

Men constantly want to know if I have a boyfriend (always yes!*) and where he lives. If I say America-as I often did when I first arrived-they insist I need one here as well. If I say Lesotho, they ask where and then want to know if he is Mosotho or American. If he lives too far away or is American, I also need a Mosotho, the one I am talking to in particular. If he is Mosotho, I am told he probably has more girlfriends so I should have more boyfriends. When I have tried to explain that in America we have only one partner at a time or that we do not tell people we love them when it is only lust or interest, I am told I am in Lesotho now and need to live like the Basotho.

Thus navigating conversations with Basotho men can be tricky. Just as I do with all people, I aim for friendly and relaxed conversation, usually in Sesotho. Maybe twenty percent of the time, a man will try to steer the conversation towards marriage or sex, at which point I either pretend I do not understand or try to explain that I do not want a husband...or a boyfriend...or an overnight guest. Usually that ends the discussion but sometimes a man is more creative and more persistent.

While these men still do not get what they apparently want-me-I feel they should get some acknowledgement. So, here are the top five from the last year:

Number Five: A taxi drive spent the entire ride to town trying to convince me we should become involved. He ignored every reason I was turning him down, instead insisting that I would not give him a chance because he is African and I am white (As opposed to blowing him off for already being incapable of listening to me!). When we pulled up to a regular police traffic stop, he talked the police officer into telling me I had to be in a relationship with the driver!

Number Four: At a large event in a neighboring community, a drunk grandfather came over to demand I become his wife. I told him my bohali (bow-ha-dee or bride price) was two airplanes,** he scoffed and said I did not want planes but he would give my family two taxis instead. He then told me it was time for us to go home together. Apparently, in addition to not being worth the planes, I was also not worth a daytime wedding, just a night marriage. This is a less formal wedding with no ceremony or party. By publicly staying together overnight, a couple is considered married.

Number Three: I got a lift with three men and the driver was insistent that he wanted “the sexual relationship with” me. Admittedly his honesty was unusual and refreshing. When I made it clear I had a boyfriend* and do not believe in multiple partners, he insisted I should have clandestine sex with him for a month to make sure sticking with my current boyfriend was the right choice.

Number Two: At the taxi rank, a man tried to get me to come over to his taxi. When I shook my head, he came to me clearly wearing eau de beer. “Ausi,” he said, “did you know the Bible says a man should have seven wives? I only have six wives because God has been saving you to be my seventh!”

And the winner! Number One: As I explained to a group of women and one man why I do not want to marry, the one man chimed in. “I hear what you are saying about not wanting a husband, so I will give you what you really want: a child. I will make a baby with you and then give you money to take care of it.”

As entertaining as these creative and persistent individuals are, I have been equally amazed when completely honest comments of mine have stopped a man in his tracks.

• A nice guy from my village and I were chatting when he asked my age. Upon learning I am three years older than he, he said, “Oh never mind, I cannot marry you because you are too old for me.”
• A man in town stopped me for the second time that day. As I told him I had to hurry to get my taxi home, he asked what I was doing the next day. I replied I would be at church. He immediately dropped my hand, stating that he could not believe I was one of those girls!

I feel the need to stress that most Basotho men are very kind, wonderful, respectful men. I have had many productive and positive interactions with men around the country. At the same time, turning down marriage offers is a regular part of my daily life and too funny not to share!

*Sorry, Aunt Betsy, do not get excited about my boyfriend comments. I use that excuse a lot. This is by no means a wedding announcement!

**Witty comment borrowed from Lesotho RPCV Ann S