Sunday, March 19th, 2006 (7:50 p.m. Lesotho time, about 1:50 p.m. Ottawa time)
Well hello,
This is my fourth e-mail update and will have to be my final one, as I am heading to Mahlekefane in the morning. I have a quick chance to send out one final e-mail for the next while, and am sending this one before I go to bed. Yeah, that’s right, bed time before nine o’clock! There’s not very much to do at night once the sun goes down.
Since I last wrote on Friday, I’ve been busy. I was scheduled to meet some other Canadians (and some Welsch girls) at the Leribe Hotel for a dinner of supposedly delicious pizza right after leaving the internet café. I headed to the Hotel and found out that the pizza ovens had just been turned on and needed over an hour to heat, then another 40 minutes to cook a pizza. Like everything here, you have to schedule based on daylight. We decided to order from elsewhere on the menu and skip the pizza (really, the reason we were going out for dinner). I had a wacky club sandwich – four slices of bread, no sauce save for tons of margarine, breakfast sausage, peameal bacon, tomatoes and turkey, oh yes, and egg. Weird. But I was hungry, so I scarfed it down!
Saturday morning, Mel (from Ottawa, a Youth Against HIV/AIDS intern) and I headed to the taxi rank. We hopped on a taxi, which is a four row van that does not leave the taxi rank until at least 12 people have boarded. There are no seatbelts, but you fit in snug with all the other passengers, so I suppose they feel that that makes up for the lack of any kind of safety harness. It costs 5 Rand/5 Maloti to get to the border of South Africa (this is under $1 Canadian). We had a cozy ride to the border where we had our passports stamped and walked into downtown Ficksburg. The walk was about 25 minutes and it’s so humid here that we were both sticky with sweat by the time we got downtown. I was on a quest to buy soccer balls, and had heard that you could get quality ones in the Republic. We shopped a bit, and had lunch at the Bottling Co, a restaurant that has been around since the ‘30s. I found my soccer balls and bought three. It was very interesting to see the contrasts between the Basotho and South African border towns – so much more wealth in the Republic. We walked back to the border, after declining a sketchy looking police officer’s ride (he was in a police car, but not dressed in any sort of uniform and was kind of leering). Another stamp in the passport and we were heading back to the public transport area. We hopped in an almost empty “taxi” and waited for about 30 minutes, some of this driving with the doors open as the driver yelled for more passengers and the “conductor” (the guy who stands up in the van on the ride and collects money) tried to beckon more people in. Finally we were filled to the brim with fifteen passengers, and we took off. As each person boarded, he or she asked me if he or she could have “just one” of my soccer balls. I explained that I was bringing them to the mountains for very poor children and they all agreed that that was a better idea.
The ride back to Leribe was wonderful – as a mom and her two beautiful boys were in the row in front of us. The younger boy (age 2) knew no English, but did know the thumbs-up sign which he flashed at us over and over. We taught him a high five, which I’m sure his mother will learn to hate us for – as he couldn’t get enough of it. His nine year old brother was much more quiet, and sleepily rested his hand on his lovely mother’s arm. She works at the Ned Bank in Maseru (the capital) and told us to visit if we were ever there.
Upon return to Leribe, we squished our way out of the taxi and experienced some drama, a man tried to “help” me with my backpack. I firmly held onto it and Mel said, “Nice try, buddy”. As we walked away, I realized I didn’t have my wallet. Mel held onto the numerous bags we had accumulated and I ran back to the bus amid the hoots and hollers of the gathered men – finding it funny to see a woman running. I searched my seat on the taxi, and a kind gentleman in the back found my wallet on the floor. Whew. It fell out of my pocket as I had squished out of the taxi. It’s going to be in zippered compartments from now on!
In the afternoon, I visited ‘M’e Mojaje, who was getting a new computer installed, much to her delight. I also visited with the mother and the three little boys who live right next door (the HL/YAH office shares their porch). The boys are aged 14, 12 and 9 and are smart, fluent in English, inquisitive and so handsome. Their names are Hlmpho, Mpho and Matekoa. Their mother is Mahlmpo, meaning “Mother of Hlmpho”. Women’s names change when they marry and have children. Their name becomes “Mother of…” their first child. I began by drawing with and learning animal names from the youngest as well as ‘M’e Mojaje’s grand-niece (who she cares for as the mother and grandmother have both died). The two eldest boys returned shortly after from a funeral for two classmates. The two boys had drowned in a nearby pool last week, one jumped in to save the other. It’s incredible – Hlmpho and Mpho went to the funeral on their own as their mother had been working. Children are forced to grow up very quickly here. The boys had lots of questions about Canada and told me lots about their lives here in Lesotho. Their mother is a teacher and is an amazing, strong, vibrant woman. They share their one room house with an aunt. There are two beds, a closet and a hot plate in their home. Hlmpho and Mpho share a single bed, while Mahlmpho, Matekoa and the aunt share a double.I promised to return to them Sunday morning with photos of Canada.
Upon waking on Sunday, I zipped up to the guest house where I stayed my first two nights and got some stories, an inflatable globe and photos. I brought them back and sat with the boys and they looked at my photos. Mel and Donna and I were picked up by Mel’s friend, Marnie, an Ontario pharmacist who works at the Tsepong (Hope) HIV/AIDS Clinic here in Hlotse. We drove with her and her mutt, Buddy to the home of another of Mel’s friends, a NYC Peace Corps worker named Elliott who has been here for a year and a half. Along with Elliott’s dog and a neighbor’s dog named “Today”, we met Elliott’s “brothers” (the boys who live near him) and they led us on a hike up the mountain behind Elliott’s hut. When we got about halfway up, we met a farmer leading his cows down the mountain. This mountain was probably 50 degrees up, very steep, rocky and treacherous. The cows were nimbly jumping down from rock to rock as I was desperately panting my way up the mountain. It suddenly began to rain, we decided to persevere. As soon as thunder cracked, Elliott’s “brothers” turned right around and we followed. The entire time, Today herded us, he circled around the whole group and made sure that everyone was OK. By the time we returned to Elliott’s hut, we were drenched, but all safe and sound. He made us hot chocolate on his hotplate (which is powered by a solar panel on his roof) and popcorn while we tried to dry out. His dog, Tokoloshe (Toko for short, and named after a South African folk tale character, a little imp) and Buddy whined outside. Similar to nighttime, there’s not a lot to do when it rains. Elliott and Mel worked a bit on his 5000 piece grey, white and black puzzle he’s been doing since January and we all chatted. When the rain slowed down, we explored the town a little and saw two little boys pushing cars made of pop cans and rusty wire – the cars have shocks and steering wheels that the boys hold in their hands. They are incredible. I have learned the name of an inactive volcano that can be seen in the distance both from Hlotse and Elliott’s town – it is called Qoqolosing. Difficult to pronounce. Even more difficult to pronounce when you realize that “q”s in Sesotho are pronounced as a high click (as opposed to the low clicks in other words). I’ve been working on it all day, much to the amusement of Hlmpho and his brothers.
I hung out with the boys again tonight, reading stories, chatting about Lesotho and Canada and looking at calendars featuring photos of Canada. They now all want to visit. They are intelligent, curious young men who I truly hope can follow all their dreams. If anyone wants to write to them, they would be thrilled to receive a letter – their address is Hlmpho, Mpho or Matekoa c/o St. Mary’s Home Economics School PO Box 707 Leribe 300 Lesotho. They are trying to save money to buy a converter to install a PlayStation that was donated to them by a former Peace Corps volunteer (they will use it at a friend’s television). The PlayStation uses a North American plug, while they need a much bigger SA plug. If you write to them, tell them you know me. I gave them a calendar of puppies, a toy chicken and some postcards of Canada, which they proudly marched back into their tiny home. I got huge hugs and “Ke a leboa” (thank you)s from all three. Made me miss my three little bros!So, my real work starts tomorrow. I’m off to Mahlekefane (it is so remote that even locals do not know it – I tell them it is near HaLejone and they sort of get it!)
I will probably be traveling most of the day to get there, but some other HL volunteers will come with me. They have been there before and will show me around. I have been told to hire someone to fetch me water and to help with my laundry, because if you don’t dry and iron it properly, you get mites. I’m terrified that there are going to be rats and sure that there will be huge spiders. Bugs I mind a lot less than rats, I got used to bugs after years of camping, but I really don’t like the thought of hanging out with a dirty rat – especially because I’ll be sleeping on the floor and if it wanted, a rat could cuddle with me in the night. I’ll be out of touch for just under six weeks – returning to Hlotse on the 28th or 29th of April, and will be in touch that weekend. I think I will be traveling to Malealea to stay at the Malealea Lodge (which apparently has a website if you want to search) and going pony trekking – a popular tourist attraction here – to the cave paintings. Then, I’m off to the capital city for a temporary residence permit (to allow me to stay longer than 45 days) and up to Thaba Tseka, to teach at Paray Primary School.Thank you for all the supportive and funny messages, I love hearing from everyone. I want to know what’s going on at home and around the world – you get pretty out of touch here, even in just a week!
TTFN,
Peace
PS – Sorry this is so long, but you won’t be bombarded with emails for weeks, so I figured a long message would be OK this time. Please feel free to keep e-mailing me, I look forward to loads of messages and lots of news next time I log on!
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