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! 

Greenhouse Greatness

Despite the drought I recently wrote about, there is one area that my community’s agriculture is still succeeding.

In the 1980's, the community banded together to start what is known in Lesotho as an agricultural scheme. The chief found funding to get drip irrigation supplies and to build a large cistern.

Since then, a number of the community fields are worked as a group. The fields are still independently owned, however, unlike those used for staple crops like maize, these are planted as part of the community’s efforts. The produce is then sold throughout Lesotho. Buyers include some of the largest grocery chains in Lesotho and South Africa. Much of the proceeds go to improving the scheme and helping with school fees for those who need it, however, the field owners and the villagers working also earn a little bit. Additionally, villagers from all over the area come to the fields for u-pick produce at incredibly low pricing.

Women planting cabbage seeds.

Sometime in the last thirty years, funding also came through for a metal barn-type structure. In the last year, another funding source came through. Letseng Diamond Mines in Mokhotlong funded the construction of three greenhouses. They were completed only a few months ago and thankfully have not been damaged in the recent dust storms (I have seen some that were completely shredded, leaving only the metal frames intact).

The other day I was able to visit the scheme on a day when everyone was busy working. My friend and neighbor, ‘M’e ‘Maseqhobi (Ma-say-‘click-obi), took me to see the inside of the greenhouses. Two of them are currently housing tomato plants in abundance. They plants are as tall as I am and the tomatoes are the largest I have seen in Lesotho. They are not even beginning to turn red yet, so they will be huge by the time we begin harvesting in a month. ‘M’e ‘Maseqhobi promised to let me know when the tomato harvest begins so I can head down to pick my own. I did not want to stun her by begging to buy some green tomatoes for making fried green tomatoes, as looking at all those green tomatoes was making me drool a bit.

The third greenhouse is the seedling house for the crops being planted in the fields. On Monday, they were planting cabbage. Because men and women’s work is clearly defined in Lesotho, even in farming, the women were planting the seeds while the men carried the flats to the greenhouse. Once in the greenhouse, the flats are placed on frames to make caring for them easier. The tomato greenhouses have drip irrigation while the seedlings are watered by a man wearing a water backpack.

We may not be growing our staple crops yet, but at least there is still something happening at the fields.

Dust in the Wind

This time last year, I was learning just how much my roof could leak.

My wet path through the
donga last October,

This time last year, I was learning to tread carefully through the incredibly slippery mud to avoid skating across it.

This time last year, the village’s fields had been planting and the maize was already over a foot high.

This time last year, when I walked through the donga, I had to follow the path as a stream ran through the center of it. I had to rinse the mud off my feet at one of the many pools to avoid reaching town with mud-encrusted feet.

This time last year, I did my laundry at home, using the water my family collects from the roof.

The view from my house one afternoon last October.

This time last year, rainbows and afternoon thunderstorms were the norm.

This time last year, I used my umbrella daily to hide from the hot sun in the mornings and the drenching downpours in the afternoons.

Today, my roof has been repaired. I learned in September when we had rain, that it still leaks, however, it is not leaking right now.

Today, I find myself trudging through the dry and dusty sand instead of skating slipping through the mud.

Today, the fields are sitting, ready for maize that has not been planted yet.

My incredibly dry walk through the donga this morning.

Today, the donga is dry. All but one pool has dried up completely. That pool is muddy, algae-filled, and holds very little water right now.

Today, I continue my dry season routine, going to the spring to do my laundry as I pray that the slowing flow rate does not become a dry spring.

Today, I carry my umbrella, hoping to use it, however, it is usually too windy.

A few weeks ago, the Lesotho Disaster Management Authority sent out a text message to the country. It read, “Dry conditions are predicted country-wide from now up to March 2016. The public is advised to be cautious and prepare for the expected impacts.” Sometimes the media is attributing the drought to climate change, other times to El Nino.  Regardless, it is here and it is definitely an issue.

Instead of rainy afternoons and evenings, Lesotho is reminiscent of the dust storms scenes in Interstellar. Twice in the last two months, we have had damaging dust storms pass through, blowing dust through walls, windows, and roofs, ripping roofs right off of homes, and bending the sign metal like it were silly putty. Most afternoons, the wind picks up, blowing thunderclouds through without giving them a chance to even sprinkle upon us. The few rains we have seen last only long enough to pockmark the sandy ground, not long enough to moisten it fully.

While my American friends are filling my Facebook newsfeed with opinions about terrorism, refugees, and the political primaries, my fellow PCVs are posting stories connected to a life without water. My friends in the southern districts of Mafeteng and Mohale’s Hoek share anecdotes about not being able to do laundry, waiting in line for hours at the only working water pump, Peace Corps delivering water, and the like.

I am blessed to live in the northern part of Lesotho, which is typically wetter than those districts. As a result, we have not fully exhausted our water supply, however, the water shortage is already creating an impact. For the last month, the water for town has been turned off most of the time. This has made it particularly exciting when looking for a toilet while in town, where latrines are scarce.

The empty fields ready for planting.

I spoke with my chief recently about how well our village is prepared to deal with the repercussions of this drought.  My initial concern was whether he anticipated we would run out of water. He was quick to point out that the water flow has decreased already, however, not to a point where we need to start rationing. Our next step would be to turn off the taps, opening them for a specific number of hours each day and limiting each family to one or two buckets of water-20L to 40L.

Our conversation naturally turned to the part that is of greater concern, the staple crops. The maize, sorghum, and beans have not been planted yet because of the lack of rain. If it does not rain until March, what does that mean for food over the coming year? Will the maize have time to produce before winter? Will the people in the community who buy very little of their food be able to survive on what is grown this year?

It is too soon to answer the questions, but they plague me regularly as I watch the clouds dance their way across the mountains every afternoon. They concern me as I walk through the village and see the empty home gardens, waiting for the rain. They terrify me when I walk by the village’s tilled maize fields and the agriculture building with the bags of seeds stacked against it.

The field areas last year on a misty day.

The worst thing about living in a developing nation is that it is ill equipped to correct for this drought. Lesotho has water, lots of water. It is dammed up behind places like the Katse Dam and the Mohale Dam. Lesotho exports water to South Africa every day. It does not, however, have the infrastructure to get this water to its own people.

Toto famously sang, “Bless the rains down in Africa.” Today, we beg to be blessed with those rains! 

Harvest

It is harvest season in the village. Every evening, wagons full of maize or cornstalks are pulled into the village by cows. In my village, the maize is harvested as part of the block scheme. This means that each family in a block or group sends at least one person to the fields each day. The group works together, harvesting field by field, sharing effort, wagons, tools, and livestock.

The staple Basotho crops are maize and sorghum, followed by beans and peas. The legumes were harvested months ago in autumn. Last month, villagers harvested their sorghum, cutting the tops of each plant then beating or driving over them to separate the sorghum from its stalk.

My family's sorghum drying.

After maize, sorghum is the second largest part of the Basotho diet. It is ground and used to make porridges known as lesheleshele or motoho. Lesheleshele (ley-shell-ee-shell-ee) is referred to as the sweet porridge whereas motoho (mow-tow-hoe) is known as the sour porridge. Making motoho reminds me of making sourdough bread as it has a starter and ferments for a day before being cooked. Many Basotho still add sugar to the finished product although I like the slightly tangy taste. Sorghum is also used to make joala (jwall-ah), a Basotho homebrew.

My brother removing kernels from the cobs by grinding it
against a rock.

The maize is harvested well into the winter, after the stalks have dried completely. This is because it will be removed from the cobs and stored as whole kernels. Like the sorghum, it is then ground before being cooked as papa. As long as the maize is completely dry, people do not need to worry about it rotting. They then, as needed, bring a sack or bucketful to the “sawmill” or gristmill in the next village to have it ground into powder. 

During harvest season, people love to take whole kernels and roast them over an open fire. These crunchy treats taste similar to popcorn, but this corn never pops open into a fluffy treat. Thankfully, they open just enough to keep from being painful to chew!

The maize from the smaller of my family's two fields.

 

Mokete ea Temo

Or, Agriculture Party...

In the late 1980s, my village started an irrigated agricultural scheme. Instead of each villager working alone to grow crops to feed their families and then maybe a bit extra to sell, they combined their efforts. Not only do they share the work and successes, but they now buy their seed in bulk, sell in bulk to shopkeepers as far away as Maseru and Mokhotlong, and as a group own a few pieces of farm machinery making their efforts more efficient.

While much of the money goes back into the scheme and to the families owning and working the fields, some is also used to support school fees and supplies for orphans and vulnerable children in the community. Recently, Letseng Diamond Mines agreed to give greenhouses and fencing to the scheme to help it continue to grow. These are currently being erected at the scheme's farm building.

This agricultural scheme and our current maize (corn) crop is so successful, that the local Ministry of Agriculture sponsored a mokete or party to both celebrate their accomplishments and record their activities to share with other communities.

Blending in with the maize in my Seshoeshoe.

As a result, I found myself donning my Seshoeshoe (se-shway-shway) dress and prepping for a party early one Wednesday morning. I was being blessed with a ride from the village to the fields where their party was to happen; thanks to the Ministry of Agriculture and the women who were responsible for cooking the food for the party being my neighbors. I had been told we would leave at 8 since the ceremony would begin at 9.

By 9:30, I began to worry that maybe I had been forgotten despite knowing the Basotho propensity for lateness and having not heard a car in my area (We are really far removed from the main village roads so car sounds are noticeable). I grabbed my stuff and headed over to my neighbors, relieved to find they were still cooking.

We hung out, snacked, sang, and chatted for two hours while they finished cooking. Finally it was late enough even they wondered where the car was. A few phone calls later and the Ministry truck was on its way. We piled in and as we drove out of the village with a truck full of excited women, they shrieked and blew whistles so everyone would know we were headed to party.

The ceremony started almost as soon as we arrived, because I was special enough to arrive with the fifteen women that were the party. We opened the traditional way; with a song and prayer. Then, we were brought on a tour of some of the fields with stops to discuss the seeds used, planting and weeding times, and other aspects to the growth of the crops. Throughout, a man from the Ministry videotaped the speeches, questions, and answers. 

When we returned to the tent, we sat through over an hour of speeches celebrating the work of various individuals, the group as a whole, and the like. Much of it I understood, although bits were in terminology far exceeding my vocabulary. There were breaks for song, as they are a critical part of any celebration. 

After the ceremony, we enjoyed nyekoe and motoho. Nyekoe (Ni-eck-way) is a local dish made of beans and sorghum. Extras that can be included are meat, vegetables, and various seasonings. I love it! Motoho is like the sourdough bread of sorghum porridge. It is another local favorite of mine.

It was a lovely party. I enjoyed being with so many of the energetic people from my village throughout the day.  

Follow up to this is available at Mokete ea Temo: Celebrity Style.

Summer in Lesotho

January is here, the festive season is over, and it is definitely summer.

Here in Lesotho, summer is the rainy season. We get most of our annual rainfall during the summer months. This probably brings to mind the Hollywood version of a rainy season: constant downpour, mud, and gray skies.

Hollywood has not spent much time in Lesotho though. Most mornings are bright and sunny. As the day progresses, it gets hotter as more clouds develop.  As afternoon progresses, the winds usually pick up and dark grey clouds rumble in the distance. Sometimes, this yields and wonderful, hail filled thunderstorm. Other times, it is only a tease and no rain actually falls. Yet other times, it seems to be a tease until the middle of the night when a loud thunderstorm wakes me up and has me scurrying to place basins under my leaky roof.

Morning and Maize in Lesotho

In the mornings, my usually active village is like a ghost town. Most people head to the fields just before dawn to start hoeing and weeding at dawn. Around noon, about half the villagers work their way home while the others stay at the fields and continue working. Around 4, the village supersedes its typical buzz of activity as those that returned earlier in the day are now clean, fed, and social as those who worked throughout the day are returning.Usual greetings become loud and boisterous conversations as people have been working quietly for much of the day and are eager for social interactions.

A photo break in the field

Given the heat and the lack of shade in the fields, I am amazed at how dedicated everyone is to the work in the fields right now. The time and energy spent working the fields, predominantly by hand, is astonishing. Unlike in America, where we have machines to do much of the hard work, here the people are using a simple hoe to plow, plant, weed, and eventually harvest entire maize fields. But, if they do not do this, they will either have to buy their food come winter or go hungry if they do not have the money to buy food. Thus, working the fields is not only their custom, but their only real option.

The other day, my brother was asking how big my garden in America was. He was stunned to learn I had to purchase all of my food. In rural Lesotho, that is simply not part of reality. Even those with jobs and money still plant gardens to supplement their purchased food. Regardless of the size of someone's plot of land and yard space, most of it will be covered with gardens instead of grass. The idea that people in a rich country like America would not also garden was simply beyond comprehension.

The first of many giant zucchini. 

Admittedly, my nomadic lifestyle has not been particularly conducive to gardening in the past, but I am enjoying the opportunity to do so now. While my gardening is quite reserved compared my community's efforts, I am already enjoying both cucumbers and zucchini in abundance. Thankfully the cows, pig, and goats finally stopped enjoying the garden for me!