Too Much Travel

From the end of October until mid-February, I managed to only leave my district twice; once for a Thanksgiving celebration with some friends at Malealea Lodge and for my incredible holiday trip to Durban and St. Lucia. I went four months only passing through Maseru on my way to and from Thanksgiving at Malealea. Although there are many things that can only be bought in Maseru, I loved being at home in my community and my district.

Since mid-March, however, I have made nearly weekly trips to Maseru-all of them overnight. To be honest, despite getting a lot of important work done while at the Peace Corps office, I am quite sick of the city and the travel. Each trip takes between four and seven hours each direction. Finally, the regularity of these travels is tapering.

So much of my life in the last few months has been like my
friend Dani in this photo...on the road.

So, given my clear affinity for the city and for entire days spent traveling between my village in Botha Bothe and Lesotho’s capital, why on earth am I going so often?

Sometime in December, I messed up my knee. I wrote it off as a torn or pulled hamstring and relaxed my then intense workout schedule. Over the ensuing two months, the knee alternated between mostly fine, a little uncomfortable, and possessed. Finally, I acknowledged it was getting worse and contacted the Peace Corps Medical Officer [PCMO].

Having a real medical issue—more than a quick trip to the local ER—has been one of my two biggest anxieties during service. I have no qualms about being far from medical care; with a decade of wilderness medical responder certificates, I am pretty relaxed about the possibility of injury or illness in a remote setting. Instead, I am terrified something could happen that would “make me unfit for service,” in other words, the idea of being sent home for medical care gives me hives.

So, anxiety aside, I have been working closely with our PCMO for the last three months. I was sent to Bloemfontein, South Africa to a specialist, which determined that my knee was surgical. PC Washington, PCMO, and I felt a more conservative plan might be better, so we have been trying physiotherapy, which is only available in Maseru.

Styling with a snazzy red
racing stripe to help my
IT band behave during
a week of Physio.

Weekly sojourns away from my site make things difficult. It is hard to explain to people who only see a doctor for emergencies and life threatening conditions that I am leaving the village every week to see a doctor when I do not appear sickly. When I tell them there is a problem with my knee and it is incredibly painful, they are sympathetic and empathize with me by sharing the joints that cause them pain. I have no doubt that some have far more serious conditions than mine, yet physiotherapy or surgery will never be a part of their lives.

Traveling to Maseru for two to three days each week also means that when I am in village, I am busier than usual, trying to fit everything into a smaller time frame. I find myself juggling different meetings and trainings around when I am available. As a result, I end up with no time for rest or for personal maintenance in a world where typical chores take more time than my schedule allows.

Clothes, bedding, and more on the line.

At one point, I had gone over two weeks without doing laundry. Since we had not had rain, I needed daylight to walk to the spring to complete the chore. With days getting shorter as winter approaches, that simply did not exist for me. (I also secretly had reservations about the walk with heavy wet laundry making my knee worse.) Thankfully my brother took notice of my dilemma and brought me water to do my laundry. I did my scrubbing by candlelight Sunday night and early Monday morning before hanging everything on the line.

I then spent the day in town with some women from my organization as we worked on our chicken project. I was feeling like I could conquer the world and get a million things done in a day until I was waiting at the taxi rank for a ride home and a huge storm rolled in. By the time I reached my village, I had given up. I knew that everything on the line would be drenched and that with my departure for Maseru at dawn the next morning, I had no idea how I would keep everything from growing mildew.

I felt completely overwhelmed until I rounded the corner of my hut to find my clothes gone. I have never been so grateful to find an empty clothesline. My brothers had no idea where my clothing and bedding were, but I knew that someone in the community had grabbed them before the rain came. The mystery of who had saved my week was solved an hour later when the clothes returned complements of a very slow elderly woman who lives nearby. For her to walk to our house, take down the clothes, and walk back home with them must have taken her nearly an hour!

After all of my back and forth travels, a dozen appointments, and lengthy PT homework assignments, I am pleased to be able to say that my knee appears to be on the mend. Two weeks ago, I reported my first pain free week, which allowed us to decrease my visit schedule. Since then, I angered it once but was able to correct the issues at home. After a check-in this week, I have a whole month before my next appointment.

Needless to say, I am thrilled. 

Transportation Tuesday: Moving Faster

Getting around in Lesotho without a personal car is surprisingly easy…if you have a lot of patience and even more time. Public transportation—in the form of large vans and small buses-goes almost everywhere, but the taxis make frequent stops, will not leave a population locale unless full, tend to cram as many people and supplies in as possible, and blast music at deafening volumes. Over the next month or so, I will be sharing a series of posts called Transportation Tuesday, which will highlight different aspects of transportation in Lesotho.

In case you missed the previous Transportation Tuesdays:

     Public Transport

     Five Reasons to Befriend Your Taxi Crew

     Befriending Your Taxi Crews

Three weeks ago, I traveled to Maseru during a monsoon. No, Lesotho does not have a monsoon season, but that day was rainy enough to qualify. 

The flooded donga...which had been dry the day before.

I left my house by 7:30. The thirty minute walk out of the village took an extra twenty minutes thanks to the slippery mud and flooded donga I had to traverse. I was picked up by the first taxi for the ride into town. Once in Botha Botha, I decided to take a Venture-a form of taxi that holds nine passengers. I paid my fare and hopped in. I shivered as we waited for four more passengers. When we set out, we made decent time to Maputsoe-a town not quite halfway to Maseru from my site-as we only stopped four times for passengers to get off or on.

My plan in Maputsoe was to "get a lift" or hitch to Maseru. I walked past all the taxis with their aggressive drivers and conductors trying to get me into their near empty cars to my usual hitching spot. There I stood for fifteen minutes with no one even slowing down in the rain for me. A taxi pulled up and gently encouraged me to hop in. I warned them I was in a hurry and would get out if they stopped for long but I got in. In the next major town, where taxis sometimes wait for hours, I was prepared to pitch a fit and hop out. Instead, almost as soon as we stopped, the other Maseru-bound passengers and I were shuffled onto a nearly full taxi. 

I was still wearing my raincoat, but had not put on my sweater as I wanted it to stay dry. The taxi was freezing because the driver's window was stuck open with a screwdriver in the opening to help hold it in place. As taxis usually do, we stopped and started the entire way to Maseru while I hugged the backpack on my lap pretending it provided warmth. When I reached the Maseru taxi rank, I hopped off the taxi and onto a 4+1 to go to the Peace Corps office. 

Nearly 100 Maloti and 6 hours later, I arrive at the office. 

Today, I made the same trip. It took less than the usual thirty minutes to walk out of the village because it was cold and dry. Moving faster kept me warm as I passed through the fog-filled donga. 

Nearing main road, I could see only 50 meters in any direction. I heard a taxi pass by before I reached the road. Once there, worried that the taxis might not see me. Before a taxi arrived, a car driving from Mokhotlong to Maputsoe picked me up. We cruised along, discussing the weather and my work. In no time at all, I was getting out. Because I knew the passengers were paying the driver for the ride, I handed them some cash before I left. 

I once again walked to my usual spot and in less than three minutes was in a nice SUV heading to Maseru. We made stopped only twice on our route-to pick up and drop off another PCV I saw. Throughout the ride we discussed American politics, our work, our families, and more. As we entered the city, my new friend, Ntate Tefo, asked me where I was headed and then dropped my at the office. 

Only 25 Malot and 3 hours after leaving home, I arrive. 

Hitching is a popular mode of transportation for Lesotho PCVs. While it is not encouraged by Peace Corps, it is also not against the rules. Between the time spent waiting in taxis for movement and the aggressive nature of the drivers and conductors-particularly those that drive through Maputsoe-hitching becomes the go to, especially for distance travel. 

I never hitch in and out of my community. In fact, today's lift from the main road is only the third time I have take a ride instead of a taxi into town. If a taxi had arrived first, I would have taken the taxi into town. That goes back to last week's post about befriending the taxi guys. They do not like it when they see people hitching in their area because it represents lost income. I respect them, so I ride with them. 

But when it comes to traveling out of Botha Bothe, the difference in time and money is profound. There are three major towns between BB and Maseru. That means waiting for a taxi to fill or fill again four times. That is a lot of sitting around not moving towards the final destination. It is exhausting. 

When I first came to Lesotho, other PCVs talked about hitching and I pretty much wrote it off and figured I would take public transport all the time. The American in me saw hitching as too dangerous for a woman alone-just like in the United States. But, after a few long trips and increasing comfort with the culture and language, I too found myself on the side of the road flagging down cars. 

Getting a lift is a great way to make new friends like these
two lovely ladies with their snazzy phones!

It is not just about time and money, however, hitching provides the chance to interact with professional and educated members of Basotho society. I have ridden with business owners, lawyers, doctors, a District Administrator (the top government official for a district), principals, and more. Through conversations, hitching has allowed me to help an organization apply for a new PCV, to invite the Queen to come to Camp GLOW, and to bring the women from my organization for training on keeping chickens.

The conversations with people as we travel are always interested and enlightening. Often they know more about what is happening in American news than I do. They have interesting questions and perspectives. And so while hitching saves money and saves even more time, it, like so many things in Peace Corps and in Lesotho, becomes about the people and the conversations.

A Comparison in Comfort:

Traveling from Botha Bothe to our Peace Corps training villages outside of Maseru:

Public Transport:  July 2014, Nick and I were crammed into the back of a venture facing one another with our two bags stacked across our laps. This was our first taxi. On the second, the aisle was completely full of luggage and people had tried to squish big bags in the small space overhead. One suitcase fell, landing on my head and Nick's arm.

Hitching: November 2014 with the same luggage. Behind us are empty seats and our luggage sits on the floor without taking up our leg space. Although out luggage is dripping with rain, we are completely comfortable in every way and thrilled about our speedy trip!

A Family Wedding

I am sitting at a table in the home of a nurse from Baylor Clinic in Maseru. She has just fed me breakfast and now we are discussing HIV rates and Mother-to-Child transmission in Lesotho.

Baylor University funds several pediatric HIV clinics in Lesotho. In the last few years, they and other NGOs as well as the Lesotho government have stepped up their efforts at PMTCT or Prevention of Mother-to-Child Transmission.

The family at the wedding.

As a result, pregnant women are the only people in the country who are automatically tested for HIV (as opposed to the voluntary testing and counseling that others can do for free at any time). They are also the only ones who do not have to wait for a specific CD4 count to start ARV therapy. These two things along with increasing education and ARV adherence are, according to my new friend, making a difference. She expressed joy that they clinic has stepped up children’s testing events and rural outreach programs but looks like it will still fall dramatically short of its goal of 150,000 new pediatric patients in the fiscal year because so many of the children are testing negative.

This may seem like an odd conversation for a Sunday morning with a woman I just met; however, it is par for the course in my Peace Corps service. And besides, this acquaintance is family. She is my host mother’s cousin. While we may have only met the day before at a family wedding, the Basotho are quick to offer hospitality, so I along with two of my cousins spent the night in her home.

As our conversation draws to a close, she leaves to get ready for the post-wedding party and I reflect on the adventure of attending the wedding.

Check out this video of the wedding. It's fun. 

My grandfather, mother, aunt, two cousins, two brothers, and I left Butha Buthe for Maseru early the day before. When we arrived mid-morning at the mother of the bride’s home, we were immediately fed and given seats in the shade. We participated in formal greetings as other guests arrived; each time my grandfather proudly introduced me as his daughter.

Before the bride came out of the house, a brass band got the party started. My aunts, uncles, mother, and grandmother were quick to lead the dancing procession.

Soon, the bride and her attendants posed on the porch. Photos were taken and we were all piling into cars to process to the wedding venue.

Queen 'Masenate and King Letsie at the wedding.

Once there, we danced out way to the door, following the bride and the band. Then, we were quickly ushered into seats so the wedding could begin. Everyone else was already seated, including the bride’s famous uncle and his wife: King Letsie and Queen ‘Masenate (Wait, my Mom’s cousin is related to the King?!?!?!).

Although this wedding was what the Basotho would call a “white wedding,” following the traditions of a Westernized Christian wedding, it still maintained many aspects of Basotho culture—especially dance. As the wedding party entered, there was no walking down the aisle. They danced.

The wedding itself was quite similar to most church weddings in America. It was conducted in English with Sesotho translations. The three differences that stood out to me were that the bride and groom said their own vows and then repeated formal vows from the pastor, the pastor stressed that the marriage needed to be strong for the couple, the family, God, and Lesotho, and the signing of the marriage certificate occurred as part of the ceremony before the couple could be announced as husband and wife or kiss. The danced their way out, met again by the brass band. We again followed, right into cars for a processional to the Alliance gardens for photos. Sadly, our arrival at the gardens was timed perfectly with the onset of a tremendous thunderstorm.

After the photos, we headed to the reception. Like all Basotho ceremonies, this one began with speeches. Not one or two speeches, but more than ten, including a second message from the pastor. Finally, well after nine (the wedding had begun at 2), King Letsie spoke, toasts were made, and the buffet began.

The bride and her brother before the wedding.

During all of this, we were occasionally instructed to get up and dance. The tables were spread out enough that there was plenty of room for these energizing moments. When it came time for the toasts, I impressed my extended family with my ability to open champagne and use a corkscrew.

After dinner, there was dancing amidst the tables and photos with the bridal couple. Gradually people departed, with us heading back to the mother of the bride’s home just before midnight. An hour or so late, my cousins and I were headed to my new friend’s home for quiet respite as the party would continue for a few more hours and we country  girls were exhausted!

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

PCV Profile: Mackenzie

Mackenzie and me at Bushfire

One of the life skills classes

My dear friend Mackenzie and I sat together on our fifteen hour flight from America to Africa last year. Prior to Peace Corps, she worked in Lesotho. Peace Corps had always been a goal for her and she is certainly maximizing her experience now that she is here.

I really admire her openness, positive attitude, and creative soul. She is one of the most unique women I have encountered and every time we talk, I leave our conversations feeling both happy and inspired.

Mackenzie lives not far from the capital of Lesotho, Maseru. She works with Blue Cross, a drug abuse prevention and treatment organization working throughout the country. Her work as a Peace Corps Volunteer with such a well established organization is far different than my own loosely structured organization, job, and site. She is an incredibly busy woman!

Both women's soccer teams that Mackenzie coaches.

She teaches life skills classes with the people in the inpatient drug and alcohol abuse rehabilitation program. Additionally, she is out in the community constantly. She teaches life skills at two primary schools and two high schools in the surrounding area every week. She meets with two HIV+ Support Groups through Red Cross; one for men and one for women. She has a women's walking group that meets weekly and an after school youth running club that runs three times weekly. She even uses her weekends for work, coaching two women's soccer teams. She has helped put together women's soccer tournaments through Blue Cross.

The "I Aspire to Be" Chalkboard

Somehow in the midst of all of those activities, she also has found time to do some really neat projects in the community. Her creative spirit has been put to great use and can be seen throughout her community. Outside a local shop is now an "I Aspire to Be..." chalkboard where people can declare and share their dreams. She and men from the community have been painting red ribbons throughout area villages to increase HIV awareness.

Although it is still in the early stages, she is working with her community to start a piggery as an income-generating activity for the community members.

The empowered women of Camp Glow

Additionally, Mackenzie co-planned and co-directed a GLOW (Girls Leading Our World) camp in her area last month. The camp was a 3-day camp with 60 young women from seven Maseru District schools attending. It was a huge success with exclusively local funding. The campers participated in sessions on leadership, self empowerment, HIV Prevention, gender equality, drug and alcohol abuse, and how to start a GLOW club at their own school. After it received local television attention, people starting contacting Blue Cross so she is already contemplating doing a second camp before we finish our service!

Life skills graduates at Blue Cross

Mackenzie and a counterpart working on the chalkboard

All photos provided by Mackenzie.

Maseru

I spent last week in Maseru. This marked the first time since I entered the country ten months ago that I stayed overnight in our capital city.

As PCVs, we are heavily discouraged from spending time in Maseru. It is considered the most dangerous part of Lesotho, although many volunteers say that Maputsoe-an industrial city I pass through when traveling between Butha Buthe and nearly anywhere else in the country-is more dangerous. Regardless of popular opinion, Maseru comes with warnings from Peace Corps and from the US State Department.

Additionally, the political unrest that occurred in August and September and the elections in February, Peace Corps briefly prevented us from traveling through Maseru without special permission from the Country Director. Exceptions were made for those who needed to see the PCMO [Peace Corps Medical Officer].

Sidenote: Having been here for ten months without a visit to PCMO is pretty stunning. Other than the many vaccinations we have received and my one emergency-room worthy injury, I have been incredibly healthy here in Lesotho; more healthy that in America! This amuses me because I had been so anxiety riddled about medical clearance only to have the medical office tell me last week that I am one of the healthiest volunteers in country!

So this visit to Maseru had nothing to do with medical issues or thankfully the safety and security issues that also bring volunteers to the Peace Corps office. Instead, this was for training. I, along with five other PCVs, was chosen to come to the office to help design Pre-Service Training for the incoming Healthy Youth volunteers.

The six of us, along with Peace Corps staff, spent the week analyzing various training sessions from Peace Corps Headquarters. While many of us felt training was long and thorough while going through it; it was surprisingly difficult to fit the many important topics into the ten week schedule. We were mostly focused on the sessions that apply to the Healthy Youth framework and completing our work as PCVs. There are a number of required medical and safety sessions that help to fill the schedule.

Working with this team to design training was rewarding. Training has always been a highlight of mine, whether on ships, at school, in the woods, or in Lesotho. I am excited to bring my experience leading trainings with Spirit of South Carolina and Camp Pendalouan to Peace Corps.

It was also great to work alongside volunteers and staff I do not see often. I am realizing that one of the challenges of Peace Corps is that I work “with” a number of truly remarkable people, however, each of us is geographically isolated. Rarely do we have the opportunity to work together and even more rarely does that collaboration occur in person after PST. I had therefore forgotten how inspiring it can be to work alongside my peers and supervisors.

Being in Maseru for the week did have its negatives. Two volunteers had been mugged in the previous few weeks, one in Maseru during daylight in a high traffic area. It is sobering to see peers targeted for crime because of their presumed wealth.

Also, life in Maseru is expensive. With little effort, it would be easy to spend the entire month's stipend on food and taxis in one week. While Peace Corps will reimburse some of these expenses (taxis in Maseru are considered a safety expense), it was startling to realize how quickly I was spending my living allowance. Our group was frugal, cooking at least one meal for ourselves each day, but even simple street food was twice as expensive in the capital as my own camp town.

This was also the first time I recognized how different life in my village is from life in America. Between the television at the guest house being on during breakfast, riding in cars regularly, being able to buy the supplies for and then bake lasagna, light switches and showers, I was surrounded by things that made me feel like I had returned to amenities similar to but not quite like America. For the first time in my service, I missed life in America.

I found it fascinating that when living my lovely and simple village life with basins for bathing, solar panels to charge my phone, and a small two burner gas stove for cooking, I do not miss life in America. And, until the week in Maseru, I did not recognize the profound differences between this life and that I live when in my own country. Perhaps it is these dramatic differences, the lack of parallels between the two places, that prevents me from missing home.

Then again, perhaps it is simply that I am so filled with joy and peace in my village that the capacity for missing a place known for its hectic life is nonexistent. And perhaps, it is that Maseru is a city, busy in its own way and therefore not peaceful, that allows me to miss aspects of home.   

Regardless, returning home to my hut, my host brothers, and my villagers brought back my delight in living and working in Lesotho while also making me incredibly grateful that I was placed in my rural hamlet!