Top Five Experiences of 2018 (so far...)

My girl Tizzy and I pose after camp ends. 

5: Easter Camp

My current position does not put me in direct contact with kids nearly often enough anymore. As a result, doing Community Camp over Easter weekend was one of my favorite moments of the whole year. We had nearly one hundred children for four days and it was so much fun to interact with and observe them as they participated in ropes course, life skills sessions, and a talent show. Equally inspiring was getting to work with such incredible camp staff and volunteers. I love getting to watch these amazing professionals model incredible youth development skills and I love building strong friendships with them. 

Kayaking in Mozambique

4: Mozambique

In February, my friend Katie and I went on my last big Peace Corps vacation: Tofo, Mozambique. Our prime reason for picking this spot was that it is one of the best places to see whale sharks. It took us three days of travel to get there from Lesotho and we unfortunately did not get to see any whale sharks, however, the trip was still wonderful.

While Katie got scuba certified, I spent my days relaxing and walking on the beach, writing, wandering through the small beach town, and reading. It was the most peaceful and least demanding vacation I have ever enjoyed. Tofo Beach is truly stunning. I also took some time to bird nerd on a mangrove kayaking trip.

3: Herdboy Health Outreaches

My host organization has partnered with the District Health Management Teams in three districts in Lesotho to bring health services to herdboys in rural areas. Herdboys or balisana are a unique population in Lesotho.

They are marginalized from typical communities and social interactions through a lot of unfounded stereotypes. In my experience, most herders are wonderfully caring and friendly men-some young, some old. Due to stigma and discrimination, however, they also often live isolated lives and therefore do not get access to most government services including health care.

At the health outreach in Ha Popa, Thaba Tseka: beautiful views, a crazy bumpy ride in the truck with my colleagues,
the "road" we traveled, and a group of balisana that insisted we take pictures together. 

So far this year, we have done a handful of health outreaches to encourage balisana to get health care in the future. By bringing the services outside of the clinical setting, we have seen larger numbers of herders accessing medical tests including BMI, tuberculosis, blood pressure, blood sugar levels, and HIV testing services. Those that need additional follow up are being referred for additional medical care and the local clinics are following up to ensure that these services are received.

For me, these outreaches have also allowed me to get into more rural parts of Lesotho than I had previously visited. Our first outreach in Thaba Tseka involved a bumpy three-hour drive on something almost resembling a road to reach the village of Ha Popa. It was quite the adventure. The balisana there were so welcoming and fun to hang out with as they waited in line for their various health tests.

Grabbing a late lunch with my friend Pontso on a holiday.

2. Moments with Friends

This may sound like a generic cop out, but it is still true. Whether working or playing, I have had some of my favorite adventures with friends. The longer I live in Lesotho, the stronger my local friendships become and the more I cherish these relationships. The opportunities to catch up with friends over a meal or a football game is something I took for granted in the US. The reality is that making it happen between transportation challenges and rules that require I be home before dark make these moments much fewer and more precious.

With Rets'elisitsoe and his brother,
Ralethola (one of my best friends), after the
wedding. 

1. Weddings!!!

2018 has been the year for weddings. Every year I have been in Lesotho, I have attended a wedding or two. This year, however, I seem to be attending almost one per month!

First, there was my friend Rets’elisitsoe’s wedding in January. Here in Lesotho, the groom must be escorted into the church by a female family member. Due to some travel delays, Rets’elisitsoe’s cousin was running late and so he decided that I would  be his official escort and sit in the front row for the ceremony. It was an incredible honor to be quickly adopted into the family of two of my closest friends in country and to then participate in the wedding activities at his house the next day as well.

Then, a few weeks later, my friends Tori and Mpho-who married in America-returned to Lesotho for the traditional wedding ceremony that takes place with the groom’s family following a wedding. Tori completed her Peace Corps service in 2015, so the opportunity to catch up with her after more than 18 months and to be a part of this special day was truly wonderful. 

With Mpho and Tori at their wedding celebration in March

The third wedding I attended was in my community, but for the sister of someone I have known, respected, and adored for the entire time I have been in Lesotho. It was fun to hang out with the bridesmaids before the wedding, join the convoy of BMWs for the trip to and from the church, and help out with logistics and serving during the reception. 

With my dear friend Ototo at her sister's wedding in April

To keep up the wedding theme, I just returned from another friend's wedding. This one brought me out to Quthing, a district I hadn't visited before that is about three hours south of Maseru. Even better, I traveled and spent the day with some of my favorite guys in Lesotho. For once, I already knew both the bride and groom and am so glad that I was able to be there for their special day.

In Quthing with some of my favorite guys; Tlebele, Moseli, Ralethola, and Matseli. 

All smiles with the groom. 

These are a Few of My Favorite Things

As my peers have been packing in preparation for leaving Lesotho, we have been discussing the things we packed two years ago. Most of us overpacked. Some, like me, were able to squeak just under the weight limits for luggage, while others were stuck with steep bag fees as penance for over-preparedness.

Looking back, I brought way too many clothes, some I have never worn and thanks to weight loss, will probably never wear again. Toiletries were another bulky item I brought too much of, as almost everything I need can be found here in Lesotho. There are other things that I brought that I have found invaluable. Here are some of my favorite items:

Number One: Chacos-Anyone who knew me before Peace Corps, already knows that I have been living in Chacos for about a decade now. They are my favorite footwear regardless of weather. They may look tacky with socks under the, but when the winter sun comes out and warms things up, I’d still rather be in my Chacos then sneakers or Toms. Turns out my Chacos-even without socks-are warmer than Toms too, thanks to their thick soles insulating my little feet from cold cement and stone.

Number Two: Bralette-These women-friendly wallets are a brilliant find from Eagle Creek. Pretty much any time I leave my community, I have this little guy tucked away out of site. To steal the majority of my cash, the thief would have to get pretty “friendly” with me and would be walking away with some nasty assault charges. The one time I tucked money in my bra loosely, I lost it. In this nifty, washable, silk guy, I do not even notice it is there until I need access to it! Definitely worth the pennies paid.

Number Three: Goal Zero Solar Panel-Living without electricity, my GoalZero stuff has been a lifesaver. I use it almost every day. I could have bought a solar panel here in Lesotho, however, the GoalZero one is designed to be portable so I can toss it in my backpack when headed to work or to visit other volunteers. The battery packs use AA batteries, so I can stock up on power when it is sunny and store it for cloudy ones. The USB plug in lets me charge my phone, speaker, and camera. My friend ended up with electricity and therefore let me borrow his larger panel as well. This has been invaluable in winter months when the days are shorter, making it harder to get my stuff charged. 

Number Four: Good Knives- Okay, I admit it, but American standards (including my own), the two kitchen knives I brought with me do not actually qualify as “good” knives. Compared to what can easily be purchased here in Lesotho, however, these two knives (and my sharpening stone from my sailing days) have proved invaluable. I have one locally bought knife and its edge is actually more rounded than the edge of a spoon. I tried sharpening it but to no avail. I still do not understand how my brothers and mother can use that knife to peel peaches or squash when I cannot get it to work at all. I am pretty sure my sanity and love of cooking would have both become questionable has I not brought these two colorful knives to keep myself happy.

Number Five: Camera-When it comes to cameras, I definitely overpacked. I brought my trusty DSLR, my iPhone, and an Olympus Stylus Tough. I figured I would use them in that order, however, the reality has been that the Stylus is my go to most of the time. The DSLR is too bulky and too flashy for my every day. The phone takes okay photos, but the Stylus takes great photos and can stand up to life’s challenges. I do not hesitate to let kids hold it and look at or take photos on it. I do not worry about it being exposed during a sudden summer downpour. On top of that, it can charge from my solar panel, unlike my DSLR. (Disclaimer: I still adore my little red DSLR and use it mostly on vacations when I anticipate great opportunities for photography nerdiness.)

Honorable Mention...Also known as What I should have packed…A Pastry Knife-While I have always been a fewer gadgets is better kind of person, my time in Lesotho has me baking far more than I have before. I survived using a fork to break up butter to make scones, sweet breads, apple crisp, and more. Then my sister visited me and laughed at my efforts. As soon as she returned to America, she bought me my very first pastry knife. This thing is better than gold! It does all the things it is supposed to do and even mashes bananas for banana bread and eggs for egg salad!

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. 

On the Road

It is 8am and I am walking along the dirt road that passes through my village connecting the main paved road and the villages higher in the mountains. Today, I am walking towards the main road that joins the districts of Mokhotlong, Butha Buthe, Leribe, Berea, and Maseru, hugging the northern border of Lesotho.

Weighing an infant at the outreach clinic.

I am not walking as far as the paved road, however. I am walking through my large village, down the huge hill, and into the neighboring village. I do this the third Friday of every month to help weigh infants and children at the local hospital’s Mother and Child Outreach Clinic. My walk takes me from my house, down a small two track side road, to the dirt road. I follow the dirt road a few kilometers, passing around fifty home lots on my way. Just before I leave my village and proceed down a large hill to the neighboring village, the road opens up. From this vantage point at the top of the hill, I always catch my breath at the beauty of Lesotho. I can see four villages from this spot, a number of mountains standing alone dotting the border of South Africa. It is a beautiful and ever changing view that never ceases to stun me with the reality that this is the place I get to call home. I continue down the hill, watching my footing as loose gravel combined with gravity can make from tricky walking. As I enter the next village, I turn onto another two track, moving toward the heart of the village. I pass the Chief’s home and then arrive at the pre-school building that is used for the mobile clinic.

When I began these monthly treks, the trip of a few kilometers took me only 45 minutes. Last month, it took me two hours and I arrived at clinic later than most of the mothers. While being late may be a common occurrence for Basotho, as the token American, my tardiness was noted and commented on. My neighbor, ‘M’e ‘Matlabeli, commiserated with me, sharing her secret to a speedy trip: avoiding the villages and road by cutting through the maize fields.

She is right; of course, it is the same reason I choose the path to our fields when seeking a taxi to town. It is shorter distance-wise, but it is also secluded and away from the many homes that line the dirt road.

In Basotho culture, it is rude to walk by without greeting someone. In the early morning hours, most people are at home and completing chores around their home. As a result, walking through the village requires many greetings and stops: (Hear the Sesotho spoken)

“Lumela ‘M’e”  (Greetings Mother)

“Lumela Ausi Thato.” (Greetings Sister Thato)

“U tsohile joang?” or “U roabetse joang?” or “U phela joang?” (How did you wake up? or How did you sleep? or How to you feel/live?)

“Ke tsohile/roabetse/phela hantle. U tsohile/roabetse/phela joang?” (I woke up/slept/live well. How did you wake up/sleep/feel?)

“Ke tsohile/roabetse/phela hamonate. Kea leboha.” (I woke up/slept/live nicely. Thank you.)

“Kea leboha Ausi Thato.” (Thank you Sister Thato.)

“Sala hantle ‘M’e.” (Stay well Mother.)

“Tsamaea hantle.” (Go well.)

This is the fastest set of greetings. Often people will ask where I am going and what I will do there. The more I Have gotten to know people and the more equipped I Have become in Sesotho, the longer these conversations have become.

In a walk of only a few kilometers, I can be certain I will end up discussing the weather, the school schedule, any activities I am doing with MCCC, and where various family members are that day. Other frequent topics that come up are my family-especially now that my sister hasvisited, how friends who have been to the village are, what I did for Christmas, whether I will be at the football (soccer) game(s0 on Sunday, why I have been hiding (which sounds weird, but is a classic way of noting you have not seen someone lately), and when I am heading back to America.

Of course, as soon as the conversation expands beyond pleasantries, the travel must stop. In a culture focused on people and interactions, only a few occasions warrant the brush-off of “Ke thatile”(kay tah-tee-lay), which means “I am in a hurry.” And so, I slowly make my way down the dirt road, stopping every few houses, knowing I could avoid all these stops by embracing the Lesotho equivalent of American efficiency by cutting through the fields.

There is an overused quote that says, “It is about the journey, not the destination.” The clinic or destination is my reason for being on the road today. It is valuable and important work. But, the trip there gives me connection with villagers. It highlights for me my ever increasing integration and language skills. It is my chance to discuss her son’s education with one ‘M’e, to learn of another’s husband returning on Saturday from his migrant mining job, and to make plans for work and social activities.

And so, I find myself hitting the road earlier each month, to afford myself the time to get to my destination while celebrating and indulging in the journey. 

Happy New Year!

At the onset of 2015, I remember sitting outside with my feet in the dirt enjoying a mug of care package coffee while writing fifteen resolutions. I carefully recorded them on the inside cover of my journal…

…The same journal that I filled completely by the end of March.

…The same journal that I sent home with my sister in August.

So, here I am a year later, reflecting back on my success with the three resolutions I remember. Two of the three connect to communication: to write and mail 50 letters during the year and to publish 50 blog posts. I stopped by the post office the other day with the final three letters in my 50 letter goal! And, this is blog post number 53 for 2015, so I would say those two goals were resounding successes.

The other resolution I can recall, I deliberately decided against fulfilling in mid-June after wrestling with it for six months. Within two weeks of writing I would remain on the African continent for the entirety of 2015, my wonderful friend Sara told me she was engaged…and getting married in October. For six months, I was determined not to go to Sara’s wedding, however, I struggled more with this possibility than any other decision I have made in the last few years. Finally, I decided Sara was more important that any resolution or the amount of money it would take to get home.

While I have no idea how I did on the remaining resolutions, I managed to keep a container of highlights as the year went on. I regularly added to it as things happened that made me happy. Here is a sampling of the stack of paper scraps currently filling my jar:

• Abuti Polau’s excitement in telling me he saw me on TV with the Queen after Camp GLOW
• Hanging out with fellow PCVs Eric, Emily, and Nick in the evenings during a Sesotho language workshop
• Movie nights with my brothers (we love the tiny screen of my tiny tablet!)
• Ntate Mphatsoe (my supervisor’s adult son) worrying I am unhappy because I have been losing weight
• Ntate Fifty guiding me through my first Basotho funeral
• Learning to make motoho (sorghum porridge) with ‘M’e ‘Masekila
• The Butha Buthe PCV Food and Drink Tour

  

  The BB Crew in March 
• Ntate Lefu (a villager who also drives a taxi) insisting on giving me a lift because of rain
• Baking with Abuti Polau
• Visiting Lisa in Mokhotlong
• Phone time with my sisters
• Playing with Ausi Princess and Ausi Lerato in the back of a car for hours while waiting for their parents

• Playing cribbage with PCV Amanda
• Baylor’s HIV-positive Teen Club
• Visits from the area police (they’re hilarious!)
• Natasha's betrothal party

• Having a GLOW meeting with PCVs Megan and Sarah only to have four campers from last year coming running up to greet us.
• Kathy and Africa
• The amusement of village girls when I carry water on my head

• Walking to the shop with Ausi Nthabiseng then playing and running back while villagers laugh at my acting like a five year old
• Being greeted by name by many people when in the camp town
• Abuti Thajane and his guitar

• Potato blossoms (seriously, they’re gorgeous)
• Playing ball at dusk with my brothers after Abuti Polau knocked to show me a frog trying to visit me
• My Dad voice messaging me on my birthday…at 12:30am his time!
• Everything during my trip home
• My friend’s Fourth of Jubrai gathering (brai is barbecue in southern Africa)

• Being a resource volunteer at PST
• Sitting outside drinking coffee and talking with Abuti Thabo
• Surprising a Jackal Buzzard in the donga
• Laughing with Dr. Olga during a simple medical appointment
• Talking in only Sesotho for a 45-minute walk with ‘M’e ‘Mat’sotello
• ‘M’e ‘Mat’sotello remembering our conversation from two weeks earlier and asking me about how Camp GLOW went
• Birthday cake from my host grandmother
• Joking around with a local shopkeeper about the rain (so last year…since we never have it now!)
• Young children screaming “Ausi Thato” every time I approach
• Bushfire
• The women and litolobonya at a village party
• Thunder reverberating off the mountains for over an hour before the rain arrived
• Abuti Thabo calling me when I was away for a weekend “because he missed me”
• The Standard 7 students singing to thank me for teaching them
• A half day visit in all Sesotho with my supervisor and her friends
• An old man telling my brother I needed to be escorted home, not realizing I was with my whole family and we could see me house
• Bringing Flat Stanley to school with me
• The Standard 7 students telling me that my life skills classes helped them on their national exams
• Abuti Thabo calling me his “wonderful sister” every day
• Getting on a taxi and having the driver, conductor, and half the passengers greet me by name
• Arriving at a GEL Committee meeting and being attacked with hugs
• Nick’s surprise birthday party with Emily and Mackenzie

• Abuti Thabo waking me up as he left for school (before dawn) to tell me he would miss me while I was at PST
• Making Vaseline with Bo-‘m’e
• Playing with Ausi Tsietso during MCCC meetings

As I reflect back on 2015, I do not regret the missed successes of those forgotten resolutions. But I cherish the PCVs and Basotho who made even the simplest walk through the village or into town special. This year has been all about relationships, whether maintaining them through mail and blogs or building them through conversations in a language I continue to study, I am honored to have so many incredible relationships in my life.

Happy New Year! 

High Places

In the large construction truck, we wound our way up a road filled with curves every 100 yards. I kept my eyes moving around, trying to see every crevice and vista the mountains allowed. At 2820 meters or 9252 feet, Moteng Pass astounded me with its beauty, beckoning me and making me question why it took over a year for me to make my way to the Lesotho highlands.

My friend and host for the weekend, Lisa, insisted we disembark the lumbering beast we rode up in when we reached Afriski. Afriski is one of seven ski resorts in all of Africa, the others being in South Africa, Morocco, and Algeria. It is firmly summer now, although Mokhotlong saw some snow only a week ago, so skiing was out of the question. We did not stop for snow, but something else fantastically cold: Amarula Vanilla Milkshakes.

According to Lisa, Afriski’s Sky Restaurant has the best milkshakes in all of Lesotho. She was, of course, correct. They were two delicious…meaning we both indulged in two of the wonderful treats made with hard serve ice cream. The Sky Restaurant also boasts the highest restaurant in Africa, sitting tall at 3010 meters or 9875 feet.

Because taxis between Butha Buthe and Mokhotlong do not pick up passengers along the route, we returned to the main road and set to work flagging down a ride…or rides as it turned out we needed three different trucks to make it to her village: a 4x4 loaded down with an immense amount of food, a flatbed delivery truck, and finally a two tanked gas truck with the fanciest interior imaginable.

 

Finally reaching her village at dusk, we hiked down the mountain to her rondeval. It was just dark enough that we had no view and I had little concept of how far down we traveled. The next morning, I was blown away as I stepped out of her home. The mountains were simply gorgeous.

The incredible view from Lisa's village

My first full day in Mokhotlong was spent at Lisa’s going away party with the staff from her school. Lisa is an education volunteer who has spent the last two years teaching math at a secondary school. She will finish her service and leave her site in just two weeks. Her going away party was a testament to the great relationships she has built with her colleagues over the last two years and was tons of fun with an incredible mountain backdrop.

The next morning, we determined another high point destination: Sani Top. Sani Top and Sani Pass are the Mokhotlong border crossing between Lesotho and South Africa. The two immigration offices are separated by a long, unpaved road that begs for four wheel drive. There are even 4x4 tours of the road, because it is so demanding.

On the edge of the Lesotho side is the highest pub in Africa. Although not as high as Sky Restaurant, it is still at an impressive elevation: 2874 meters or 9429 feet. It also boasts significantly better views than the Sky Restaurant since it looks out over the lower elevations in South Africa.

As it was a weekend and it sits next to South Africa, it was also a lot busier than the Sky Restaurant had been. A number of people were there as part of tours or staying for the weekend. While I celebrated finding my first Bloody Maria in Lesotho, Lisa and I worked on a project we are doing for Peace Corps, maximizing the access to electricity and it turns out free WiFi! Our discussion garnered the interest of another American, who it turns out works for USAID in Mozambique and is an RPCV from Cameroon. Our sitting area became a hub of Americans in Africa in no time, as we were joined by a traveler from California. Since I spend very little time in the parts of Lesotho that draw travelers, this marked the first time I have bumped into American travelers outside of the airport!

When we returned to Lisa’s village, we made a point to watch the sun as it set behind the mountains. With the breeze, the New Englander in me was in love with the brisk temperatures.

My last morning, Lisa’s father told me I could not leave Mokhotlong. A huge part of me agreed. I love my village and community in Butha Buthe, however, the combination of vistas, the even stronger sense of community brought on by the isolation the mountains create, and the cooler temperatures entranced me.

Back in training, when we were given the chance to give input on our site assignments, I suspect the only Mokhotlong site was lower on my list, although it has been long enough I cannot remember. Knowing me, I probably was intimidated by the idea of living so remotely and at elevation. I spent years living at sea level and in the foothills. I had never lived at the kinds of elevations that we see in Lesotho. Now, after being here as long as I have and having visited elevation, I know that I am strong enough to handle both the distance and the elevations. Even the arduous climb from Lisa’s home and school up the mountain to the road was more bearable than it appeared when standing at the bottom.

And so, I returned home, thanks to a pickup truck that picked me up faster than a taxi could arrive. As Lisa put it, with so few cars traveling the roads, it is hard to be picky. As we wound our way back through the mountain passes, I continued to be in awe of the views. When we finally blew back down Moteng Pass into the lowlands again, I could feel oppressive heat start to fill the car despite the breeze the open windows created. It was another 90-plus degree day in the lowlands, the temperatures seem more brutal than last summer thanks to our current drought. As I sweat my way back to my home, dressed for the cooler, breezier highlands; I wondered again why I had taken so long to get myself up to the highlands and why I so often doubt my own capabilities.

Much like I often laugh at myself for waiting over a decade to feel confident enough to commit to living alone and abroad for two years, I now laugh at myself for doubting whether I could have lived in the highlands. While I recognize my adventurous spirit, clearly I still need to recognize some of my own strength.

Kathy's Lesotho Reflections

Hiking Lesotho's mountains.

As my last two blogs have highlighted, my amazing sister visited Southern Africa for most of August. It was wonderful sharing my life and work with her. I asked her to write as a guest blogger about her experiences in Lesotho. As she told me, "This trip has engraved itself my heart and it seems to funny to me that outwardly I'm the same when I feel so different inside." 

Here is the experience, in her own words:

In August, Beth and I went on one of our Amazing Adventures.  We started in Kruger National Park with Tracy, hunting for glimpses of elusive animals, celebrating 2 birthdays, freezing our fingers on game drives, and laughing all over the park.  There we checked the Big Five off our lists as well as many different bird species.

After parting ways with Tracy, Beth and I were off to Cape Town to be penultimate tourists.  We checked off Table Mountain, the Castle of Good Hope, The Best Nachos Ever, and local draft beer (Beth even got to have a porter!)  Robben Island was a highlight (see Beth's previous post) although also a difficult stop.  After 4 nights in luxury (gotta love rewards points!), we wine tasted in Stellenbosch and continued on to Lesotho.

From the second we reached the border, I knew that this Adventure was different.  This Adventure involved litter all over the ground.  This Adventure had us checking out of South Africa and walking over No Man's Land before checking into Lesotho.  This Adventure had the custom's agent welcoming us to the country with a big smile on her face and telling us that we were beautiful.  This Adventure had me blindly following my sister deeper into the city and through a few alleys to avoid the taxi drivers and pick up a Venture taxi instead.  This Adventure had me cuddled with the trunk door of an SUV sitting on a jump seat with my luggage piled on my lap next to a man who cracked open a beer while trying to change his SIM card.  This Adventure had me overwhelmed.  For the first time in all of my travels throughout Europe and North America, I was in a place were most people didn't speak English (or French!) and I couldn't even guess what they were saying.

And so my Adventure was living Beth's life for a week.  We went

Kathy doing laundry.

on errands around the village and the camp town, hand washed our clothes in the spring before carrying them back up the hill, taught life skills to Standard 4-7, weighed babies at a monthly clinic, and talked to a teacher about the upcoming GLOW camp that Beth is running.  All of these activities were surrounded by much needed Sister Time.  And in the background was always someone checking in, wanting to make sure Beth was okay since they haven't seen her in a while.  

With one of the four classes Beth teaches weekly.

And that is what made this Adventure so different - people.  People who yes, couldn't understand me just like I couldn't understand them.  But this Adventure had people who welcomed me in and accepted me just for coming to visit their country (it helped that I'm Thato's sister!).  They spoke to me in the language of love and smiles. They payed me compliments through Beth - usually expressing surprise that we look so much alike and then saying how beautiful we are.  This Adventure had brothers who teased me, played football with me, let me join movie night, and called me "a-ussi Kavy" (Sister Kathy).  This Adventure had Me' Masekila who made me Ma-toe-hoe and then tried to explain to me what it was in Sesotho before just saying "porridge" in English (I must have looked awfully confused!).  This Adventure had a community of people who welcomed me to their home and shared as much about it as they could in ten short days.  This Adventure had the Chief saying, "Welcome home" when he met me and even though it was only day 3, I felt it.  

Sharing Kathy's favorite American
foods with the host family.

So while the first day or so was tough and there really is a ton of litter on the ground, by the end of the trip, I didn't notice it.  Instead I saw the people - welcoming, kind, and amazing.  

Top Ten Surprises After One Year as a PCV

One year ago today, I swore in as a Peace Corps Volunteer with these seventeen amazing individuals!

It has been exactly one year since I finished Pre-Service Training and swore in as an official Peace Corps Volunteer. The year has been everything I expected and more than I imagined. Peace Corps service has not been without surprises. Here are the Top Ten things that have surprised me during my first year of service:

10. I polish floors

I do not think I had ever polished a floor before moving to Lesotho. Here, I find myself on my hands and knees polishing at least every other month. Keeping the linoleum on my dirt floor clean is a constant chore. I sweep more than daily to remove the sand that blows in and the dust that falls from the thatch roof. This all moves much easier when the friction is reduced thanks to floor polish. Of course, that reduced friction also turns my floor into an uneven skating rink for a few days, but that is just part of the fun!

9. I live here!
This one is a bit of a cheat as I was stumped for a tenth surprise. But the reality is that every day I cannot help but wonder at the roads my life has taken. I am amazed that I live in this beautiful country filled with wonderful, welcoming, and generous people. It is as if I awake every day expecting it to be a dream, but it is not. It is my actual life!

8. Easy Weight Loss

Everyone I spoke with before Peace Corps warned me that women gain weight in Peace Corps while men typically lose it. This is obviously a broad generalization but is believed to be due to the high starch based diets found in developing nations. In my case, however, I have lost weight with absolutely no effort. My activity level is pretty much where it was in America or lower, however, cooking for myself for the first time in over a decade is probably contributing. I also believe not thinking about it helps a lot. In America, women are bombarded by ideas of how they should look and their value in all ways is at least partially dependent upon their looks and what they wear. In Lesotho, this is significantly reduced, people look how they look and wear what they have. Since I have only a small mirror, I spend very little time thinking about how I look. If it were not for the scale at the Peace Corps office and my tape measure, I would have no idea I have lost around fifty pounds. Of course, this could also be due to wearing all the same clothes I brought with me. Sadly, this also means that said clothes are ill fitting and less flattering. I now roll my skirts to avoid stepping on them, my skinny jeans are saggy jeans, and shirts now resemble tents. But, since I only see these thing in pictures, I am finding I do not really care!

7. Phone Dependency

When I was sailing, I would turn off my phone for weeks at a time. Once I switched to dry land, I still was prone to leaving my phone behind or keeping it on silent. I could get away with charging it only two to three times a week. Now, my phone is a constant companion. I am quick to reply to WhatsApp messages and phone calls. Some of this is cultural as the Basotho expect someone to stop a conversation to answer a call. But some of it is also that this phone my connection to friends and family around the world. Some days, it is the only English I experience. Every day it is a chance to keep up with things happening in the lives of people I love, people I am going years without seeing.

6. I Don't Miss Much

I do not often miss places or things. There are moments I think, “Ooh, I would love to get sushi right now,” and I definitely would miss brewed coffee if my friends and family did not keep me incredibly well stocked thanks to amazing care packages. But, for the most part, I am so content with what I have here that I do not miss home. When I am headed to the big city (Sarcasm...Maseru is only big in the tiny context of Lesotho), I try to brainstorm a list of supplies and foods I should buy as Maseru has so many more options than Butha Buthe. But, when I walk into the comparatively larger and well stocked stores in Maseru, I quickly become overwhelmed. I cross most of the items off my list without purchase and walk out content with only one or two treats like chocolate chips, balsamic vinegar, soy sauce, or a spice only available in the capital.

I have tried to convince myself I need to buy new cloths that fit, but similarly, I walk into the stores, become overwhelmed, and decide my oversized clothes will do for another year. In one year, I have purchased the following clothing: slippers, one skirt, dress shirt, one t-shirt, two tank tops, and two traditional Seshoeshoe dresses.

I truly expected part of the hardship people discuss before Peace Corps to be missing things in America-showers, driving, shopping, electricity, machines, diverse restaurants and food-and I was astonished to learn that I only miss the friends and family I have left behind. 

5. I Crave Time with other Americans

My first few months after swearing in as a PCV, I was quite content to spend all of my time in my village. Seeing other PCVs in town was nice, but not necessary. Now, a year later, I find myself desperate to spend time with the same people I would brush off to spend a quiet day in my community. The longer I am here, the more I appreciate times with other volunteers. It is not just that these are incredible individuals with a sense of adventure and purpose like my own. It is also the ease of spending time with people who understand my cultural reference points. While I am old enough that most of them just look confused when I start talking about Punky Brewster, they know much of the same music, television ads, movies, and so on. As my grandfather would say, we share a cultural IQ that allows us to enjoy easier camaraderie and jokes.

4. Bra Stuffing

I have always been a well-endowed female. While movies and books are filled with pre-teen girls stuffing their bra to look a bit older, I am the one whose fourth grade school picture highlights that I should have been wearing a bra. (Mom, please do not scan and share said hideousness!) Thus, I have never stuffed my bra nor used it as a storage device as I filled up all usable space in my bra. However, here in Lesotho, my chest is considered small. As I wear skirts often, my bra often serves as my only available pockets. Any given day, it holds at least two of the following: toilet paper, keys, money, phone, pedometer, hand sanitizer, notebook, pen, camera, gum, etc. It helps that I find I now have a lot of extra space for all these goodies thanks to number eight.

3. Health without Wealth

Before leaving for a life in rural Africa, I anticipated living on hand sanitizer, vigilance about washing my food and hands, finally stopping my nail biting habit, and torturous rounds of illness. While I do occasionally wash my hands and use hand sanitizer, the reality is that with less effort spent on sanitation and less facilities for sanitation, I am healthier than I have ever been at home. In fourteen months, I have had two small colds, two minor injuries worthy of medical care (Remember my trip to the ER?), and only minimal GI issues. Other than my first two months at site, I have barely even needed the band-aids that Peace Corps supplies us.

It is not just me either, for the most part, the Basotho that are part of my every day life are also incredibly healthy. One of my brothers has been a bit more accident prone lately, marking the first two times I have seen anyone in my family bleed and the first time one of them has visited a doctor.

I clearly arrived with a preconceived notion that living away from all the pristine and overly sanitary opportunities in America would lead to more illness and more problems, but the reality, for me at least, is quite the opposite.  

2. Proud Ameri-sotho

In America, a lot of people spend time talking about how hated America is by the rest of the world. While I have not necessarily witnessed this concept during my travels in the Caribbean, Central America, or Europe, it still impacted my perception of America. Here in Southern Africa, however, whenever people learn I am from the United States, they are envious. The immediate response is either “I want to go there” or “Take me with you when you return.” Even when I note that life in America is not easy either, people still want to be there. America is their dream.

As Lesotho's political situation has unraveled in the last few months, the United States has threatened to cut off certain funding if the government does not take action. Many Basotho have shared their fear of this happening. They see America as the leader of all positive international involvement in the country. They worry that if America pulls funding, other countries and NGOs will follow the US's lead. Since most groups followed our direction when we left briefly last September due to the Coup, their fear is understandable.

Even as my pride in being an American increases by being here, the best complement I receive from villagers is “Ua Mosotho”. When I do things that are culturally considered to be Basotho, they are thrilled. Women in my village love to yell at people who try to speak English to me in town, making sure it is understood that I am a Mosotho, I speak Sesotho, and I am a child of Lesotho. Being that integrated and loved is a crowning achievement for me.

1. Reliance on Help

I have always been an independent person. My mother still jokes about my independent nature as a child. American culture embraces and encourages such independence. Here in Lesotho, accepting help and even seeking it out are encouraged. It is nothing to go to a new town without having a clear picture of where I need to get. The expectation is that when I arrive, I can ask people for directions and trust the answers I get. If I am unsure of how to deal with a situation, rather than trying by myself, I need only ask and Basotho are ready to help-such as with that rat I had a few months back and its siblings my brothers have since trapped. This is not because I am an American or a Peace Corps Volunteer, this is simply the way culture works here. People ask for help and would be surprised if it was not given.

I am always amazed by the amount of trust and help I need to succeed here. Coming from a culture where we are encouraged to deal with it on our own, asking for help can be a challenge for me. Sometimes I would rather stay in my hut and do nothing than go to a new place where I know I will have to rely on the help of strangers, but every time I ask for or receive help, I am awed by how wonderful it is. While I know that returning to America and keeping this new-found part of me will be a challenge, I hope I can. Giving and receiving help is an amazing way to keep connected to people, whether you know them well or not. And the reality is, most people are genuinely good people who only want to help out their fellow human.

PST as a Busy Resource Volunteer

Between April and June, I spent four weeks involved with Pre-Service Training for the newest PCVs. The first of these was in Maseru at the Peace Corps office before the trainees arrived. The other three found me staying with a new host family in the new training village.

It was pretty demanding to spend that many weeks away from my site. My time in the village has been hectic and busy making up for these work trips. My villagers have definitely noticed my absence as villagers stop me to ask where or why I have been hiding myself.

New PCV Caitlyn wrote about me on her blog,
commenting specifically on my
Sesotho abilities.

At the same time, it was been incredibly rewarding to get to know the twenty-three trainees. They are a really great group of individuals and I am excited to spent another year connecting with them. Like my own training group, they are a diverse group, representing a variety of ages and backgrounds. Similarly, they are now spread throughout the country.

Being at PST also encouraged me to reflect back on my life since leaving PST and moving to my site. The sessions I co-lead with Peace Corps staff brought to mind new projects I can spearhead in my own community. Answering the varied questions of the trainees showed me just how comfortable I have become living in a culture and country that was once new and foreign. It forced me to realize that my 27 months here is already half over and that I am dreading the day I have to say goodbye to my community and host family.

There was one day in particular, though, that was very challenging for me. I remember well the day we received our site assignments during PST last year. The Peace Corps staff had used ropes to make a giant outline of Lesotho. As each of us was told our site, we were escorted to that part of the country. I was the fourth person to learn my site. As I stood in the northern reaches of our Lesotho, I watched my friends be escorted to a variety of places far from me. I had known that there were only a handful of sites in the North, but seeing it visually and seeing just how far away some of my closest friends would be was draining.

I was stunned to find the same feelings rushing in as we gave out the site assignments to this new group. Despite having only spent ten days with them at this point, I still found myself depressed to watch new-found friends being assigned to places I have not visited. Even though I was excited to welcome my newest Butha Buthe family members and other Northern neighbors, I could not help but be saddened by how far away some folks would be living.

One of my favorite things about being at PST, however, has been the opportunity to spend time with the fabulous Peace Corps Lesotho staff. During PST and workshops, we spend a lot of time with the staff, however, once at site our interactions are limited to phone calls and emails.

I genuinely enjoy interacting with the staff. The interactions I have had with them at PST over the last three months have highlighted my cultural and language growth over the past year. Bo-Me get so excited listening to me chat with them in Sesotho even when I make little mistakes, because I am so much better than I was during my own training. They fawn over my wearing a “Charlie” or blanket around my waist like the Basotho women do or my affinity for donning Seshoeshoe dresses.

I think the staff are impressed, amused, and even a bit annoyed at times when they start speaking Sesotho quickly between them and I chime in with an answer or opinion. Usually they only jump to speedy Sesotho when they are trying to talk about things that they do not need us PCVs to hear, so they are always a bit shocked when I chime in. But, mostly, they are amused because I talk like the people I spend the most time speaking Sesotho with: older women. They love to laugh at me as I use the slang of grandmothers instead of the slang of my peers.  

Litolobonya: a camera free cultural moment

After a longer than usual day at teen club and accidentally enjoying time with two other PCVs I bumped into in town, I was officially late, even by Basotho standards.

As I approached the mokete (mow-ket-ee or party), I greeted over a dozen women leaving for home. 'M'e Matsepo greeted me warmly and walked me into the yard. We passed two tables cluttered with used plates sitting just in front of the remains of the two cows my brother had helped slaughter the day before. The yard was full of men. Seeing few women made me question whether I should go in the direction of the women I had previously greeted. Arriving only an hour before sunset may be too late. Perhaps I should have simply stayed home.

Finally I spotted two women I know and started walking towards the cooking fire to greet them. 'M'e Matsepo stopped me, pulling me to the door of the small tin cooking shack. As she pushed the door partway open, I realized two things: the shack was incredibly full of women and they were responsible for the singing and drums I had assumed were coming from somewhere else on the compound.

At 'M'e's prompting, I squeezed my way into the shack. With the sun sinking low, very little light was reaching the one window. The room was packed full of women, all of whom were singing and clapping. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I realized that two of the women were wearing only bright red bras, their underwear, and the skirts used for litolobonya (dee-tow-low-bow-ne-yah).

This photo shows young women dancing litolobonya
 at the Cultural Day I attended earlier this year. The
dance was historically used by women a few months
after childbirth to confirm her core was strong enough
to return to the physically demanding Basotho woman's 
role, including carrying water on her head. It involves
popping the butt out without moving the front of the body.
The skirts accentuate the movement profoundly. See my
blog on the Cultural Day for a video of this dance.

As the two danced to the rhythm of the song, clapping, and bucket turned drum, women started pushing me toward the center. Smiling and trying to appear more confident than I felt, a moved forward hoping them just wanted me to see the dance rather than joining it. Suddenly, my host mother came forward and grabbed my hand telling me there was a seat for me. Relieved, I found myself sitting on a stump along the back wall of the shack watching the women dance and clapping along.

My mother asked if I had my camera and I found myself denying the phone in my pocket. Somehow, this moment felt like it was meant to be experienced rather than photographed. I continued smiling and clapping along, gradually learning songs much different than those sung at church.

Eventually the two women removed their skirts and stunned me by pulling their underwear down in the back to do another dance while showing off their buttocks. Around me, the women went wild with cheers. I smiled, laughed, and cheered along as each of them shook their now naked buns in our faces.

When the original women tired, other women-fulling clothed-donned the litolobonya skirts and the fun continued. This moment highlights one of my favorite aspects of Basotho culture. Women are celebrated regardless of their shape or size. The only negative remark I heard in the hut was that one of the women was using her upper body to pop her booty out instead of using her legs and hips. This activity was for married women and a lucky PCV only, most of the women had nursed, grew up without bras, and have a little extra padding as being big is celebrate, however, modesty around other women does not exist and each person's body is celebrated for what it can do instead of knocked down for not being magazine quality. In America, most women would be too modest or insecure to start shaking their nude booties in the faces of their friends.

Finally the women and I moved outside, the special women only part of the party concluded. As it was nearly sunset, I took a few minutes to speak with the men I knew, being careful to stay in the presence and women. As parties are accompanied by beer and joala-a homebrew made from sorghum-some of the men had been drinking most of the day and were more likely to forget the respect they usually show me. Additionally, parties bring in people from outside of my village and those guests are not used to a white person living amongst the Basotho as part of the community.

Just before I was given a plate of beef and bread, a man was trying to speak with me about marriage but slurring his words together enough that I was not exaggerating much when I repeatedly told him I did not understand his Sesotho. A grandfather came over, also clearly drunk, wanting to know who I was at the party with. Despite knowing I spoke correct and clear Sesotho, he could not understand as I explained that I was there with my brother and mother and that I lived in this space. He called my brother over and gave him a lengthy speech about how I needed to be taken home because it was nearly dark and unsafe for me to be out.

He apparently was from a neighboring village that just got its first PCV two weeks ago and was taking the Peace Corps safety and security instructions incredibly seriously. This is, of course, a great thing, but it made me laugh to think about how things change in a year. I am never out alone at night in my village and a year ago I would never have even considered attending a party near dark if I considered it all. The two times my transportation had returned at night, my brother has met me at the taxi stop to walk home with me. But this party was not only in my village, but in my neighborhood. The only thing between the party and my own hut was the chief's house. My brother and my mother were there with me along with numerous other villagers who would protect me from any harm.

'M'e Matsepo brought me a plate of food, which seemed to stop the man's lecture. He left to walk home and my mother joined me as I ate. When I was full, I begged her to finish my plate as we sat and chatted with 'M'e Matsepo. My other brother and his best friend stopped by to say hello. Then, with some food packed up to go, my mother and I walked the short distance home together.

I absolutely cherish moments like this party. Despite arriving late because of more traditional work and cherished moments with fellow American, the chance to chat with villagers and truly experience things that most people only hear about or see at cultural day celebrations is incredible. I have also set a new goal of donning the skirts (fully clothed though) and doing litolobonya with the women before I leave Lesotho. Considering their excitement when I wear traditional clothing or admit I can cook traditional food, I know they will be ecstatic to see me trying their dances. Now to find a teacher...