I cried a little at school today. Not because of anything bad though. At the beginning and end of the day, the students and teachers gather together for assembly. There, we make announcements, pray (my school’s Catholic), and often, the students will sing. Today, it was raining a little, so we all gathered in a classroom after school. There are only about 40 students total, so this was easy to do. The students organized themselves according to how they sing (soprano, tenor, etc). Today, they sang for about an hour. I don’t know how they know so many songs. I suppose they have been singing them since they were small children, but what comes out of their mouths is something that would take Americans weeks of practice. These teenagers, who are normally so obedient and quiet and call me “madame,” finally come alive when they are singing together. The boys, some of whom never make a peep in class, are singing and dancing with smiles on their faces. It’s hard to describe how beautiful it is when the Basotho sing. Like today, it often makes me tear up. I have never in my life encountered a culture in which every single person can sing and harmonize so well. And they all know the same songs! Maybe I will know some once I leave here. I can sing the Lesotho National Anthem, but that’s all. Anyway, it’s a wonderful way to end the day. I think people all over the world would be a lot happier if they sang all the time like people do here.I’ve really started to enjoy teaching. I think the students are now finding out that, no, I am not going to beat them with a stick. Therefore, they’ve been more receptive to my Q&A style. But they still can’t get the idea of positive and negative numbers, especially adding and subtracting them. I’ve probably explained it in five different ways. I’m always asking them questions, trying to get them to think rather than simply memorize, especially in science. Critical thinking skills aren’t as well developed in children here, it seems. Also, teachers can be mean! Corporal punishment is everywhere. I personally haven’t seen a beating yet, but other volunteers have, and I see the teachers carry their sticks to class most days. I also hear them yelling at the students, calling them lazy and scolding them all the time for things that seem so insignificant to me. And they aren’t sympathetic at all. For example, teachers will yell at them for being late.Ok, fine, but some of the students have a 1-2 hour walk through the mountains and over the river every morning. I understand if they can’t make it to school exactly by 7 AM for “study hour” before school. I also understand that the teachers want these students to be disciplined, but I prefer to use other strategies, like positive reinforcement. That’s what really motivates them to do well, I’ve found. Even when they get answers wrong, I think its important to encourage them to work hard and keep trying, they’re on the right track, etc. I always give them a huge smile when I walk into class. I want to show them that school can be a nice place to be and that I am happy to have them there.I just ate way too much chocolate while I was writing this. I got two packages the other day, one of which was from Adrian. Of course, it contained quite a few of those lovely square bars of Ritter Sport dark chocolate with hazelnuts, my favorite chocolate from Germany. When you haven’t eaten chocolate in a couple of months and you finally get a substantial supply of your favorite kind, it’s a bit dangerous. My grandmother sent me something called "cuddl duds" which is a silly name for what is basically nice long underwear. I looked at the tags and they were made in Lesotho! I thought that was interesting that they ended up back in Lesotho. I also got some books, an Indy, some magazines, socks, a new coat, warm boots, and other good stuff. Thanks y'all! It felt like Christmas again.So, I know that my family is probably reading this and some of them are going to visit me within the next two years. Therefore I thought I should show you what my village looks like.The view from my house is in the picture below. That tin structure on the left is my latrine.I can barely fit inside it. It also belonged to the volunteer before me, who is at least 6 feet tall. I can’t imagine what he went through every time he needed to poop. So, that stone thing to the right of it is the beginning of my new latrine…yay! The picture below that one is the house that I share with my host family. My little section of the house is on the left, where there are bars on the door. It’s a nice house by Lesotho standards. I certainly enjoy it. And in the picture below that, there are some of the girls that I teach. They are standing in front of my house in their school uniforms. Some days they just show up and demand “Madame! Please take the photos!”I usually have nothing better to do, so we go outside and have a photo shoot. Some look a little angry or unpleasant, but most Basotho don’t smile when they pose for photos. In their opinion, this makes them look more professional. Also, all of the school children shave their heads here.I’m not really sure why, but I think maybe it sort of goes along with the uniform thing. So yeah, they are all girls.

Because this was once a British colony, they call chalkboard erasers 'dusters' and because this is Lesotho, mine is a piece of sheep hide. I have just completed my third week as a high school teacher in Lesotho.Sekonyela High School My school consists of a smattering of buildings clustered on a hill above the Senqu River, at the base of the mountain, Thaba Popa. The horizon in every direction is formed by the jagged peaks of Lesotho's Maloti mountain range. Every morning the students gather for outside assembly in a sort of courtyard, where they sing hymns and the national anthem and say the Lord's Prayer. After hearing the day's announcements, the students all go to their classes. Each grade has their own room, which they stay in all day while the teachers move from room to room. There are 6 classrooms in 2 buildings, but there are 7 classes of kids. So right now one class is in the assembly hall. There will also be one more class in a week or so, but I'm not sure where they are going to fit. The classes range in size from 30 to around 60 students. When the teacher enters the room, all of the 'learners' usually stand and say, “good morning sir.” This is a little off-putting at first, but one gets used to being addressed as 'sir' pretty quickly! During class, the students are usually quite well behaved. No one has yet to talk back or be rude in any way. The most disobedience I get are kids who don't pay attention or don't take notes. This deference and subdued behavior are likely due to the use of corporal punishment at school. The tradition of caning students persists here, though it is regulated by the government. They have rules set out for the size and weight of sticks used as well as how and why a student may be hit. As stated, this makes for polite and well-behaved students, but it also causes them to be very cautious in class and often reluctant to answer questions. Personally, it is also very difficult to stand by as the kids are beaten. The students must purchase their own books and materials. After school fees, uniform fees, and buying notebooks and pencils, many students do not have money left for books. Because of this, teachers must write everything on the board; all notes, assignments, everything the student needs to read. This makes teaching math and physics a little cumbersome, as one can't assign book problems or reading, but it must be a nightmare in English and Sesotho literature classes. We do have a science laboratory, stocked with a scant assortment of physics and chemistry equipment. Science demos are very difficult to acquire here. There is one such company in the country, located in the capital city. One must travel there to purchase what items they happen to have in stock. I have a few physics demos I would like to do over the year and will probably have to take a few trips to the local hardware stores to build them from scratch. I am lucky enough to be at a relatively new school, built in 2005. I also have one of the few staff rooms witch not only electricity, but a few computers to boot! These old PC's have loads of viruses among other problems, but at least they give me a little project here and there. Other than teaching and lesson planning, the bulk of teachers' time is spent in the staff room gossiping or watching movies, which isn't a bad existence at all. So far I like my job here a lot. The kids seem to like me and are quite nice to teach to. By this point they are also becoming less nervous and will stop me to ask questions if they don't understand something. I also like my little village up here in the mountains. It's peaceful and quiet and gives a person time and space to think. There is also the camp town near enough, so I an always stop in for a little bit of excitement and a cold beer. Oh, and that sheep-skin chalkboard eraser I mentioned earlier, it works way better than any eraser I've used in my life! Hopefully things stay this good through the cold, long winter here!Part of my walk home from school

Hello,

We've been keeping busy now that we are back in Lesotho, but we were just able to finish posting the glut of pics from our wonderful trip to Cape Town. We hope you enjoyed seeing some of the things we found interesting while we were there, and us being able to talk about the vacation mostly in photos was fun. Just wanted to let you know that you can check out the Cape Town page now for the full story. We will not be around really next week, so we won't be doing any posts but when we get back maybe I'll finish up the food conversation. In the meantime please just click a button to vote on the poll of what we should talk about next and we'll go back to "The real thing" page to post pics of our normal life again.

As always our best to all, and we hope you enjoyed the photos.

Love from Lesotho,

Shane and Carol

You can only ride that wave for so long I guess and then it crashes.

There are some things happening here. I mean, mostly inside my head. Outwardly summer drags on, men continue to be pitifully machismo and projects develop. But in there.... in my cabezita I am moving slowly but surely toward insanity. I am feeling lethargic and anti-social. I feel the overwhelming and yet I know dangerous urge to explore medical schools online and fantasize about what my life will be like there- IT'S TOO EARLY!!

This dangerous endeavor causes a discontinuity in my space-time relationshipper and I am unable to focus on the present- Paraguay: heat; poverty; beasts and children everywhere; people thinking I'm a spy; over abundance of starches and animal fats- and I walk around in a haze. Mentally I've been transported to the beautiful lush campus of the Medical University of South Carolina or MSU: The lawns are well-tended, ethnic food is nearby and the educational material is peer-reviewed and open to everyone. But physically. Oh boy. Physically I'm sitting at Ña Jacinta's house discussing the logistics of getting them a fogon so she can stop breathing in so much smoke every time she cooks while five barefoot little boys run around making toys out of empty pop bottles and sand from the road. I love them. And I love my work. But I have hit my wall.

We are careful to emphasize in the Peace Corps that every volunteer will have a distinct experience, even if they serve in the same sector in the same country in similar towns. It depends. That's the catch all answer/advice for everything. But in spite of that, most volunteers follow a very similar path in emotional adjustment.

Observe.

Month 6 was no fun whatsoever. Month 7 or 8 we received this little gem that- if nothing else- justified the struggles I had been through in month 6. Little late. But okay.

The last week or so I've been 'struggling' again- that's putting it lightly- and last night I found myself desperately searching through my gmail for the copy of this chart to justify my feelings (I'm not crazy, right?!) and when I couldn't find it I resorted to typing things into Google Image like, "emotional progress of peace corps volunteers". Oh, it was a sad night.

What's wrong Carly?

Is it the refusal of new people to speak directly to you but instead pretend you're deaf/incoherent/invisible/can't speak spanish/can't understand Guarani and ask everyone sitting next you personal questions about your life and then refuse to listen to the answer I give?

No.

Is the almost physically painful loneliness brought on by an emotionally and physically trying and particularly solitary year without the tiniest hint of romance due to geographical isolation and incredible male/female ratio in Peace Corps-Paraguay which is about 1:5, the majority of males being either married or otherwise sexually inclined?

No.

So then maybe the language thing? The 5000 miles from home thing? The 'no one understands me!' thing? The where is my life going thing? No, no, no. You know what?

I think it's the Paraguayan government in conjunction with 1-year blues.

Two nights ago I went with the host family to a wedding, first time. I tried, I tried, I tried to focus on the joyous event but every thought I had spun around and turned bitter in my mouth. The dresses- the cheap material, the low quality of products in Paraguay and the fact that no one cares enough to improve the market. The groom- what were the chances he would actually be monogamous? In this country- almost zero. The food at the reception- four starches and two kinds of meat. Zero vegetables, zero fruits. We couldn't get water served to us - the waiters were baffled. The bathrooms- I asked my mom where they were. She asked the woman next to us who asked the woman next to her. I stood up and said I would ask someone who worked here and everyone had little spaz attacks in their seats at the inherent danger presented by that proposition. Similarly, our table was given one too few plates when the food was served so my mom said she'd would stop a waiter when he walked by. One walks by. She starts at him anxiously but says nothing. Two walk by. She and my sister stare anxiously. My brother smacks my mom's arm over and over but again - no one says anything. Well, I gave them their chance so I stand up, find a waiter and ask for another plate. Everyone at the table and in the near vicinity is shocked by my outward behavior, having tiny chisme seizures in their plastic chairs. They would have gone hungry.

I unknowingly hold my breath.

I get stuck inside my own head.

The passing of time warps with every day.

The customs of the culture here are alternatively endearing and infuriating and after a year their intimacy makes them issues not easily brushed off. These things are integral, inescapable parts of life. As volunteers we're forced to stare down their throats and love it or hate it but rarely can we accomplish a point of view that isn't totally ethnocentric. Every single day we confront the absence of women's rights and male domination both inside the home and out. Every single day we see the consequences of a post-dictatorial culture that is terrified to confront any issue head-on and so goes on, day after day, week after week, year after year, lacking basic human rights and unable to ask for the things they need and want, both from each other and from their government. Every. Single. Day. The overbearing integration of superstition and myths restricts activity keeps peoples minds small and their presence limited.

But the very worst of all are the people who want to learn and are denied the resources. People who tell me openly that their culture is "low" and their people are ignorant and they don't understand how it happened. And that's the most frustrating part of all. Never at any point is it the people who are irritating. You can't be upset with Ña Fulana or her seven illegitimate, parasite-ridden children who want to steal your clothes and tell everyone you're there to steal the aquifer. I want to be mad at them but I can't- my anger would be completely small-minded and ill-placed because it's the government that keeps them intentionally in the dark, fostering their ignorance, ensuring that a threat can never materialize. And the government isn't something I can beat as a Peace Corps volunteer.

If we try really really really hard maybe in another 50 years we can beat illiteracy or malnutrition in children. It's highly unlikely but hopefully we can at least reduce the numbers. But corruption in the government which ultimately is the bedrock and the potential solution to every problem the country has? That's not something we're allowed to affect.

So we trudge on against the unbeatable opponent, sweating it out, falling into poop holes, pulling 12-inch worms out of our butts and having our reputations destroyed for having more than one boyfriend in a year, among other travesties.

Sometimes I get stuck thinking about all the unbeatable obstacles in these dog days of summer when my temper, one year in and feeling the weight, is dangerously paired with a thin store of patience and sharp pangs of homesickness. And I think.... What the f@#$ are we doing here?
Two years of your life so people can accuse you of being a spy and spread rumors about you. Two yours of your life so people can tell you, You would have quit by now if they'd put you in the campo. Two yours of your life so people can cancel meeting after meeting or just never show up at all after you worked all night to prepare.

Remember, remember, remember- there's a point. Change one life and it's worth it. Improve one life and it's worth it. And like I've said before, I've already changed and improved my own if no one else's so it's got to be worth it already right....? Those were the honey moon days!

Oh, JFK, give me strength.

"Life in the Peace Corps will not be easy. There will be no salary and allowances will be at a level sufficient only to maintain health and meet basic needs. Men and women will be expected to work and live alongside the nationals of the country in which they are stationed—doing the same work, eating the same food, talking the same language.But if the life will not be easy, it will be rich and satisfying. For every young American who participates in the Peace Corps—who works in a foreign land—will know that he or she is sharing in the great common task of bringing to man that decent way of life which is the foundation of freedom and a condition of peace."John F. Kennedy1961 - 1963

Ah, gawd. Perhaps we think we’ve run out of things to share?  Yes. I do believe that’s what I’m doing now.  I’m sure I’ll start feeling guilty about that soon. When I do, does anybody have any requests?  ~k8g

Today marks the halfway point of the Central American adventure; we are having a grand time. This news was pointed out by K.F.A. circa 4:30 in the morning. I guess now instead of counting up, we are counting down.

Either way... we travel on.

We get to read a lot in our line of work. In a place where meetings usually run about two hours behind schedule or where video games seem like a fabled pastime, a good book is definitely a must-have companion. Most books are passed from one volunteer to the next, creating a sort of informal reading circle; in fact, one of the first things we do when visiting a friend’s site is raid their personal stack, in search of the next page-turner. It’s actually been really educational and provoking to read books that I may have never had the time to pick up otherwise; on my list are so many great books that I’ll always associate with my time here. But every now and then I stumble upon a book that totally stands above the rest, gets seared into my mind, and blows me away as I close the back cover. It’s bittersweet to finish a book like that - it feels like you’re parting with a good friend just as you’re really getting to know one another.  Here’s the book. I don’t know if I’ve posted any other recommendations on this blog, but this one warrants a first. Coincidentally, I hear it’s abuzz in pop culture right now because it’s been made in to an Oscar-nominated movie (and much debated, at that). I had no idea it was even a film when I picked it up and still have no idea if the movie is worthwhile or not. But …the book …is …phenomenal.  I’m not much for official reviews or literary criticism. Suffice it to say, I got lost in this book and was moved by Foer’s fantastic ability to weave a story. This definitely ranks in my top 5 books read in Peace Corps. Pick it up and enjoy.

During training, we received a list of our potential sites, and we all got the chance to “apply” for a site in our program. There are only four secondary math education volunteers, and I was one of them. The four … Continue reading →

I just had to post this. A Form D student named Fule asked me to look over her collection of poetry she has written (what do I look like, the poetry lady?) and maybe help her make a book. Of … Continue reading →

… guy that I just met driving my taxi. … guy ringing me up at the grocery store with no teeth. … crazy drunk 60-year-old that won’t let go of my hand.  Seriously, what do they think we are going … Continue reading →

There is a girl at school named Evelyn (this is her Christian name—more on Basotho naming traditions to come!) and she is a Form B student which is the American equivalent of 9th grade. She asked me to read and edit … Continue reading →

Over Christmas I got in this hitch with a more “well-to-do” Basotho couple and their beautiful newborn baby. As usual with hitches, you try to make conversation any way you can (in Sesotho, and if you’re lucky, in English) and … Continue reading →

After living in Mabuleng a month, I am still marveling at the view of my peaceful village and the backdrop of the mountains, every time I walk out the door of my house. Most of the homes in my village are roundhavels: round single-roomed structures made of stone with a thatched roof. Every morning when I go outside to dump my bathwater, I see women bent over outside these houses, sweeping the dirt from the unpaved ground with their straw brooms. Families don’t keep much grass directly outside their house because it attracts rodents, but I still haven’t quite figured out why they sweep the ground. I hear the clanking of many cow bells as herds of sheep, donkeys and cows are led up the steep gravel hill (that I always slide/fall on) in front of my house. Behind them are whistling herdsmen wearing the traditional Basotho blanket, riding on horses. Around 6:30 AM, the family rooster flutters up to his branch in our peach tree and cockadoodledoos. Then he runs around behind the house near my back window and does it again, just to make sure I’m awake. He has a special routine that I find hilarious. I love this rooster. In the morning and after it rains, I sometimes see transparent clouds dusting the pointy tops of the green mountains, with a bright blue sky in between. Below, there is the Khubelu River that runs through my village, with willow trees along the banks. Many afternoons after lunch there is a gigantic thunderstorm that cools down the temperature and lasts 1-2 hours. It makes for a great nap. In the evenings, I hear the African music that plays in the bar across from my house and the voices of children laughing, playing, and dancing outside. Sometimes they come and visit me, sitting silently on my floor, content watching my every move until I finally speak to them. They like it when I take their picture with my digital camera. When sun finally sets, the sky is the blackest I have seen in my life, due to the lack of electricity for miles. If it weren’t for the bright stars, I wouldn’t be able to tell the sky from the earth. I never understood how wonderful the stars could appear until I came to Lesotho. I can even see the Milky Way sometimes. This is summer in Mabuleng. I do miss city life sometimes, especially in Raleigh, my home. Occasionally I get cravings for paved roads with sidewalks, anonymity, the sounds of cars passing, walking around at night under streetlights, dancing downtown, live music, etc. Hell, I’d just like to be able to drive to the Harris Teeter and get a candy bar or a six pack of beer some evenings. Ah well, I’ll be able to do that my whole life. I’m only going to be in Lesotho for two years, which is not much time at all. Besides, I can visit the Harris Teeter this summer when I come home for a week at the end of June – my mom’s getting married!

The first day, and the rest of the week at Mabuleng Secondary School were not at all what I expected. I guess I should have anticipated what happened – there were signs all around. My supervisor (the principal of the school) had only been around for two days out of the entire summer break from December to January. On Monday January 16, the first day of school, we had a total of 3 teachers (I think there are supposed to be 5), my supervisor was still MIA, and approximately 10 students showed up. I’m pretty sure everyone has known for at least three or four months that the other science/maths teacher left and we need to hire a new one, but that hasn’t happened yet either (no, I didn’t make a mistake, they really call it “maths” here, short for mathematics). I know we have a small school, but I was told “small” meant we have around 50 students enrolled each year. I guess I really did expect those 50 students to show up at 8 AM in their bright blue uniforms on the first day of school. Silly Caitlin! The few that came trickled in gradually between 9 and 11 AM. I did see one at 8 AM, when I arrived, but she wandered off somewhere. We ended up letting them out early at 3 PM. Maybe you’re curious as to what I did during those 7 hours on the first day of school? Sure didn’t teach. A better question is: what are the students doing for those 7 hours? Sitting in the classroom. Not only is that pitiful, but it’s a waste of time and money, especially when these kids barely have the money to pay for school. Apparently the teachers at my school never teach on the first day of school here…they just can’t get organized enough. Initially I thought it was related to the principal being out of town, but it’s not. On the first day of school, half the teachers were absent and we still hadn’t created a timetable or confirmed what classes we’d be teaching exactly. Also, many of the students come from poor families in the surrounding rural villages. Many still haven’t gotten together the funds for school fees, books, and uniforms (only primary education is free in Lesotho unfortunately) by the first day of school. So, I did what the other teachers did: I sat in the teacher’s room. I read an entire novel. A great novel it was, but I couldn’t help but feel as if this situation could have been avoided. I walked home for my hour-long lunch break at 1, called my mom on her birthday, and returned to be told I could go home again. On the second day of school, I was still sitting in the teacher’s room, but I at least planned out the tentative first quarter for each of the three classes I’m projected to teach. I went home early again and made chicken soup. This whole thing has reinforced what I already know and am still trying to get used to: in Africa, things go slowly. There are very few things that run efficiently, but no one seems to mind. It’s important to exercise a lot of patience here; otherwise people from Western cultures will go crazy. To an American, it seems like an awful lot of time is wasted. But the Basotho see it differently. It’s just life and that’s how things go. They never rush themselves or anyone else, which is honestly kind of nice – you never have to worry about being late every once in a while, hell, or even showing up (probably not going to try that one). They seem to have a different concept of time. It is absolutely fascinating to me. So far, I’ve adapted in that I now know how to sit for hours on end. In my three months here, I’ve read 12 books so far (who’s the bookworm now, mom?). I’ve never read much for pleasure because I’ve always felt that I was wasting time – I was somehow never caught up with readings for my classes at my university. But now, I’ve graduated, I’m in Africa, and can read as much as I want. It’s lovely. I never knew how much I enjoyed it. There are some amazing authors out there. Some books I’ve read recently that I recommend include: -The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks (a good story whether you’re into science or not) -The Corrections (about a dysfunctional Midwestern family – I laughed out loud) -The Vegetarian Myth (debunks a lot of veg. arguments and makes you think) -Fall on Your Knees (an international bestseller in Oprah’s book club!) -The Poisonwood Bible (about a missionary family meddling in the Congo) Anyway, I finally started teaching on Friday. I’ve got two science classes and a math class. I’m not a big fan of math, but the math is basic enough and I try to make it fun with games…and minor bribes. “Whoever gets the problem right first gets a sticker!” Kids here will do anything for a sticker. Never underestimate the power of the sticker in Lesotho schools. I certainly have challenges. Right now I’m wondering how the hell I’m supposed to teach the use and parts of a microscope to my science class when we don’t have a science lab or a microscope…this is going be bo-ring! Poor kids. They don’t get to experience the burning and blowing up stuff that made me love science so much. The 5 students in Form A today looked at me like a crazy person when I spoke, even though I do my best to speak as slow as I can and enunciate every single word (we volunteers call this the “box talk”). Almost all of the subjects are taught in English at the secondary level, but out in these parts the English skills ain’t so great. Science presents a double challenge: not only are the students trying to grasp the main concept, but they’re also trying to remember (and pronounce) terms like “mitochondria” and “chloroplasts.” Things are going to go pretty slow! Anyway, I’m finally having fun doing what I came here to do.

Up at 5:00--before the birdies began their tweeting--in pitch black K.F.A. and I executed departure. It was not until the screeching of the gate I was fully awake. The noise mocking my cries--I was not ready to leave Uvita, but we had already extended our stay by a day... and now we are on more stringent deadline since our Nicaragua tickets have a date (in addition to being paid for). So we waddled the half mile to the bus stop to catch the six o´clock bus to San Isidro, arriving just in time for breakfast. Gallo pinto con huevos, anyone? We had planned to make a stop at the post office before catching the bus to San Gerardo, but the best laid plans do not always pan out. In Costa Rica a meal is meant to be enjoyed, therefore if you do not ask for your bill, it will not come. You could look at this as a lot of wasted time, or prime opportunity to allow my cafe negro (black coffee) to cool to a drinkable--not scold my mouth--temperature. During this time I wrote the two postcards I had purchased.

Next we found a bank to restock on funds before heading to the Central Market. The market revealed solely meat, so I was quite happy with our decision to dine elsewhere before this exploration. Bus number two departed at 9:30 for the hour and a half ride to Casa Mariposa (Butterfly House). There is nothing better than a music session in route to each destination with the Costa Rican backdrop, where green-ness travels for miles. At the end of the road we had an estimated kilometer walk--straight uphill with heavy packs. The temperature in the mountains, however, was significantly more welcoming than stale beach air. Somehow we still managed to show up drenched from head-to-toe... and continued on, evading cold mountains showers throughout our this getaway. A tour of the hostel, a brief hammock session, and a sandwich later, we were off to The Cloud Bridge for hiking. The afternoon hike lead us to four distinct waterfalls along the way. The continuous up-and-down was another signal we were at the base of Chirripo, the highest peak in Central America. It was a physically exhausting hike, one though that made you crave more.

On the way home, I stopped to scale a lime tree, capturing four, despite the doubting from my travel-mate. Fun fact: In Costa Rica limes have an orange-like appearance.

Once settled in our comfy cottage, I found a table for journaling--overlooking unbeatable views--with a cup of coffee, courtesy of the hostel. The temperature continued to drop throughout the night, ¨forcing¨ me to bundle up in my fleece. I wish I could convey how wonderful that was.

Dinner was cooked by K.F.A. while I wrapped up my thoughts. The menu for the night: a vegetable medley over couscous. And for our first dessert, K.F.A. fried a plantain and cut up a mango... that rocked. Things got really wild when post-dinner tea was offered(!!!). The rhythm of our travel has found its beat, and while I am grateful to have this much time, as we settle in this routine... I am more and more aware of each minute we have, dreading the fact this excursion too will come to an end.

Day 16, obnoxious afternoon and all, might have been a trip peak. At 6:12 am I heard the first screams of the howler monkeys, later than normal and no less annoying than the repetitive tick of my alarm clock. This was as good a time as any to lace up my running shoes for a jog on the rocky back roads of Uvita, Costa Rica. The run commenced on the beach with stretching before a short walk back to Flutterby, our 'hostel by the sea.' Deciding to be extra hydrated or competitive, K.F.A. and I chugged down full Naglenes. The hostel chef had breakfast waiting, as if he was working directly for us. Our plates did not stay loaded long--this was some of the best gallo pinto con huevos (rice and beans with eggs) to date! And the switch from scrambled to fried egg was a nice touch. Yes, on Day 16 we decided we could not concoct a better breakfast, nor will we tire of this combination. For three dollars this trifecta of food wards off hunger until dinner, not only is this fabulous for the travelers budget, the bikini body appreciates this too.

Following breakfast, we walked to the supermarket for dinner supplies, officially committing to cooking from here on out. Fresh vegetables (cabbage, squash, tomatoes, onion, and garlic) and noodles in hand, we checked out and began the venture home. The groceries were labeled and unloaded. This left us with enough time to catch the (natural) 'Whale Tale' on Playa Uvita, an hour round-trip walk from our temporary home, at low tide. Returning after 11 am, my feet let me know rest time was in order. Wouldn´t you know... the tree house we were sleepìng in had hammocks tied up just below. The plan was to finish Into Thin Air by Jon Krakauer but instead the hour was spent with shut eyes. To recover from the intense nap, we had lunch. I realize 1000 words ago, I mentioned gallo pinto usually tides us over until dinner, meaning the midday meal is skipped, however, a fruit and veggie truck stopped by the hostel seconds after we got back from the supermarket... and sold us on a pineapple for a dollar and change. Enough on being cheap and eating, except I am almost certain this remark is premature because dinner will work its way into being covered--it was spectacular(!!!). So if pineapple is considered lunch, we lunched.

On second thought, lets continue with budget travel. Part of traveling on what I have identified as the ´student´s budget´ means asking plenty of questions--to Ticos (a person of native to Costa Rica) in broken Spanish, to hostel owners, to your guide book, to various travelers along the way--and sufficiently researching. Onwards. K.F.A.´s previous jaunt to the supermarket led to the dicovery of a Tico Bus ticket counter... which we seeked out after lunch. When I say ´seeked out´ I mean we walked there to ask questions about bus tickets to Nicaragua with nothing in hand. To our delight--this was a place for purchasing the advanced tickets we needed. Since we had no money, we quickly walked back to the hostel to collect credit cards... only to return and discover we needed passports. Had this information been distributed prior--say when we mentioned we were going to collect money--that would have have been nice. Each leg of the journey is 12 minutes, 30 minutes roundtrip when you include time to dig through oversized backpacks, fill up water bottles, and use the bathroom. My watch read 3:06 pm when we arrived at The Whale Statue (Yes, the ticket counter was inside a foam-ish whale. Definitely not strange.) on our third attempt. Following the business model of the developing world, the one worker had mysteriously disappeared. Our avid interest in these tickets, coupled with the comment, ¨We will be right back; how late are you open?¨ apparently meant nothing. You can only laught in these situations. After 40 minutes, we gave up.

On rented bikes we took off to further explore Uvita. The problem being these bikes were priced at two dollars per hour for a reason; one bike had you so hunched over the lower back went immediately numb while the other bike I could only picture my 76-year-old grandmother cruising the beach on--this bike did NOT do inclines of any sort. The Whale Statue was a good turn around spot... and luck would have ´our girl´ back--working. The agonizingly slow process of securing tickets flew by, simply because we did not have to ride those bikes. Knowing we have seats on a bus to Nicaragua is a great feeling, days later. The remaining hour of ´bike time´ took us directly back to the hostel, with 20 minutes to spare before our last beach sunset for quite sometime. The sun set well--it did not disappoint.

K.F.A. prepared an epic meal; I watched. We make an incredible team... but I will save those details for another post. (I had to hand-draft this post, making me acutely aware of how obnoxiously long this ramble is. In addition, I am paying money to upload this post. Now I am not only not getting paid to write, I am actually being charged. What happened to ¨free¨ speech?) Luckily after dinner, the typical night--as was the case in Day 16--caps off with dish clean-up, shower, more reading, and bed.

¨We need the possibility of escape as surely as we need hope.¨ (Edward Abbey)

The holidays have me off my so regular blog schedule… when I last posted in early December I had just returned from Durban with Pierra-Lisa. Haven’t received her photos yet so will get back to that at a later date, perhaps.

Special thanks to people for gifts for the Pre-school and Community Center, apologies if there are dupes from earlier posts but that’s okay. Thanks so much to Anne & Terry Walsh, Mom, Susan and Miles Stair, The Bertolino Family and the Brokamp Family for all the books, sports and school supplies. These kids must learn English in order to pass their tests to graduate from primary, secondary and high school and English proficiency opens up so many more employment opportunities for them as they get older. The children who learn it early have a huge advantage. M’e Jane Matseko at our Center is really determined to teach English to her young ones, but receives no supplies assistance from the Ministry of Education so she uses everything you send. The other day she and a volunteer parent were going thru some letter sounds on cards you sent and she was stumped by “pretzel, violin and yarn”, she asked Juliana to explain what these things were so she could share them with the kids. You’ll see them here along with some of the children’s names on the blackboard (glossy paint we painted on the wall that works great!).

The kids pack our little library room on Saturdays, they especially love magazines, maybe comic books would be good also, and they really like to copy pictures from the books using the crayons and markers you all sent. We cut all the paper up to stretch it, nothing goes to waste here, even the plastic packaging is made into balls. Thanks for the chalk and tape also.

As for sports equipment we were surprised to find the free-range Basotho chickens ate one of the nerf balls so we won’t be leaving the other one out unattended anymore.

And as for the Brokamp footballs, when the kids play football here the really play using just feet since shoes are missing or in bad shape but they are really good at it…and the kids are sooo happy to have this ball, even inflating it was a big event.

Meanwhile back in mid-December… we continued fabrication of chickentractors (lots of work when you have to tear apart pallets for the nesting boxwood). It’sour goal to build these with materials villagers can use and keep them afford but it’shard work and slow going. Juliana here working on the next box. She’s done a really great job on these. The chickens were due to arrive mid-January.Thanks to Lisa Dold I had a wonderful Christmas trip to Semonkong,a gorgeous area in the center of the country in the Maluti Mountains. Here sheis with our riding guide and stick. Lisa is a Response Peace Corps Volunteer (when you’vecompleted your Peace Corps Volunteer service you are available for short termspecialized projects, started I believe as a way to provide trainedprofessionals quickly to areas recovering after natural disasters, war,famines, etc. now expanded to any area that needs specialized assistance) shedid her service in Belize years ago and is now in Butha Buthe for a 9 monthproject advising the admin and staff of Lesotho’s only residential school forchildren with disabilities. It’s called Thuso e Tla Tsoa Kae Centre and is run by Sentebale, the charity headedby Prince Harry of England and Prince Seesio of Lesotho. Lisa invited me to spend Xmas with her andher friend Carrie visiting from CA, also a teacher of children withdisabilities, staying at the Semonkong Lodge. Check this place out www.placeofsmoke.co.ls/. It’s just beautiful.There are few vehicles on the long, long road to Semonkong, butwe ran into this one high traffic area, that’s typical herd boy/man clothingwith the Basotho blanket, boots, cap and stick or whip.It’s a remote area and the roads are in rough shape attimes. We had a scary incident on ourway there, on Xmas eve, when our little car died short of the crest of a steephill, (at the very top of that mtn in the distance in the above photo) with a steep drop off on one side,no railing, a steep ditch on the other, potholes ahead and slippery gravelbehind. After several attempts to restartthe car (standard trans) we ended up crosswise on the road and were saved whena little boy wearing only raggedy blue underpants appeared out of nowhere and putlarge rocks under the back tires. We letthe car cool and after several tries were finally able to get it going again. Those of you who live on St. John mayremember PL and I sliding down a gravely road backwards and rolling her jeeplasts Xmas eve, I couldn’t believe I was going thru it again exactly a yearlater and I jumped out of the car at one point to brush away the gravel as bestI could so I didn’t have to go thru that again. Whew. And how about that littleboy? xmas angel I guess. Since we were arriving in Semonkong on a holiday the villagewas crowded with people who traveled to town by foot or pony, so there wereponies tied up in large numbers to wood racks throughout the area, looking likea western movie set. Here’s the view from my room, right on the river. Really nice. There were people from all over the world staying at thelodge, great staff, family atmosphere and terrific food, local beer and SouthAfrican wines. On Christmas Day we dida 5 hr trail ride (my first in 30+ years) to the famous Maletsunyane Falls. Thought about doing the abseil, largest inthe world, but had a reality check the next morning and the only jumping I didwas off my horse as we approached the Falls and the hillside trail suddenly droppedoff towards the gorge. I was not in any way telling that horse whatto do so I decided if he wanted to pitch downhill to graze at that angle it wasokay with me, as long as I was walking. Lookat the angle where they’re grazing, yikes…Since it was Xmas day and the children greeted us wearing theirnew “Xmas Clothes” which are the single gift of the Christmas holiday, that anda day of eating good food with family and friends. We heard about the “Xmas Clothes” for weeksbefore the holiday. The next day we did a botanical hike with a local guide and the wild lilies were amazing, we saw them on hillsides along the river androadways.Then we visited M’e Elizabeth for a two-hour presentationon the Basotho Blanket, and learned a lot about the meaning of the variousblanket patterns and a fair bit on Basotho culture and history. Really nice time, lovely lady. A couple weeks later I stayed with Lisa and her family atMaliba Lodge and did a 13K circuit hike for 6 hours thru Ts’ehlanyane NationalPark. This one took Lisa, her sister Amyand me, past the gorgeous 3 Cascades Waterfall & pools and up over amountaintop, quite a tough hike and worth every minute. Stayed at Maliba’s beautiful River Lodge www.maliba-lodge.com and had even moreamazing food and wine. Quite a changefrom my usual Peace Corps fare and a perfect two days to complete the holidayseason. So now back to village. The chickens for our poultry program arrived! Came by lorry from SAfrica via Hlotse. Only 4 hours late! They pulled off the side of the road and all who ordered and prepaid forlayers came along side and the guys tossed the birds down as you were supposedto toss them into your truck or cage. Ithought they’d come in their own boxes, and be small birds, wrong on bothcounts, ha. We were buyer number 5 sogot to watch about 1000 birds being stuffed into quite an array of vehicles& cages. Luckily the guy we talkedinto helping us put a canopy over the bed of his truck and we just tossed our50 in the back. That’s our truck and helper/driver/neighboron the right in this photo. These layers were going to be sooo happy going from their crowded cages into chicken tractors, we thought.I picked up some boxes at a grocery store so we hadsomething to carry them up the hill in when we got back to Ha Mali. We arrived as it was getting dark (PC policybreaker). We called for help from anyand everyone and carried the 50 chickens up the hill, 5-8 per box. The tractors weren’t ready for them so theygot to spend the night in our office (what a mess) andwe carried them down in the morning. Here’s the one of the support group ladies(that’s calamine lotion she’s wearing, popular as a moisturizer) and one of thepreschool kids (new class!) carrying them into the cages, they’re 7 per 5 metercage so plenty of roaming room. Surprised to find they stay packed together under the feedbag shade area and are only after one week starting to venture out. Actually we’re still working on the nesting boxes but thehens seem to be doing okay under the feedbags for the time being and the boxes,with metal roofs to protect against the rain, will be complete in a few days. Want to share some interesting photos and stories here…While I was buying layer feed at the local feed shack (tosupplement the bugs & plants since we’ve been told now that we bought “Lehooha”which are European or “white” chickens who are afraid of the sun and won’t eatbugs and we should have bought “Basotho” chickens instead, live andlearn). And it's true they are ignoring their spacious accommodations and stay packed together under the shade area. Just starting to venture out one week later. We’re hoping our Mahoohas (“le”is singular “ma” is plural for this class of word in Sesotho) will learn tolive like Basotho as we have, ha. Meanwhile I was on my way to buy a 50kg bag of feed when this boy rode byon his pony. The herd boys often havethe most amazing weaving skills that they hone while spending weeks in themountains with their cows and sheep. I’ve seen some amazing patterns embroidered into their blankets and manyhave pretty elaborate hats (katibas) He agreed to let me take his photo toshare the hat he made with the “ma-american” (that’s you). A few days later I was leaving my house when I heard singingand chanting and saw a row of people coming down the path of a neighboringhillside. I was told they were a “GirlsInitiation School” so I kept a respectful distance and watched as theyjoined up and started a series of dances and songs. I had to leave to get to a meeting at St.Dominic’s where I’ll be teaching again starting in Feb so I started walkingdown the hill when I heard the group coming down behind me. Someone living nearby called out to me to getaway as the girls would hit me with their sticks so I ran up another hill andsome did chase me, threatening to hit me with their sticks then laughing andsaying “Mpho (my Sesotho name) take our photo!!” So I did. love the girl in the center whocouldn’t stay in character. Soon discovered it’s part of theritual to chase and hit people (or threaten to). These girls will meet regularly to learnabout Basotho culture and their role as women in the culture and as I learnmore details I’ll pass them on. So farit’s hard to get a clear description from anyone. Curious about the skin painting &sheepskins, the intricate face masks and teachings. The Boy’s Initiation Schoolis much more intense and they are forbidden to discuss it with outsiders. We were warned by Peace Corps that we reallydo need to keep away from Boy's Initiation Schools while they are staying for 6 months in the mountainsdoing I-don’t-want-to-know-what. Our Safetyand Security Officers check out the villages where we will be living to be surethe Initiation School locations are known and avoided. Puts an edge to hiking tho’. Back to the girls…they seemed to be having anice time with it, they traveled thru many villages this day, stoppingperiodically to chase people with the sticks (tupas) then doing ritual dances…would be a good Carnival Troupe.oh…since this is my very late holiday post, I hope all had awonderful Christmas and are off to a great 2012. Thanks Anne, Susan and Mom for the holidayitems, love the little tree & shells and the snowman is a big hit in myvillage, altho I did give him a Basotho hat. I promised the neighbor kids we’ll make one in May when it startssnowing here. Also including a photo that will bring back memories formany in the VI. Agaves are alive andwell here in Lesotho and bloom over the Christmas season as they once did, andhopefully will again in the Virgin Islands. Until next post….salang hantle (saw-lang han-tell-aye) “stay well”. remember you can click on any image to enlarge.

Hello again,So, our trip was like 2 weeks long - We used all of our leave allowance and our money - so you won't have to worry about more vacation photos any time soon after we finish with these. I'm going to begin posting the photos actually from Cape Town next. We had kind of an interesting experience at the begining of the Cape Town segment. We had booked this hostel on an organic farm - in an eco village even, in one of the nearby suburbs. The hostel was even next to the train station - OMG public transport! So, we got there on the train and the train itself was a bit dodgy (not terrible but important to keep the gaurd up while riding) so we weren't particularly keen on riding it more than 2X a day for the next 9 days from the begining. We got to the hostel and it was terrible, run down, no sign of a farm, and the other people staying there made us a bit nervous too, also the walls were paper-thin and, especially I, did not get more than two hours of sleep.

The next day we had planned to go to the farmer's market and (yay!) the Phantom of the Opera, so we decide that we'd do that and then the following day find a new place. That day we also had the pleasure, of touching base with the family of one of our friends from back home that lives near Cape Town. In short, we are so grateful to them, they actually came and picked us up and invited us to stay in their guest house for 2 nights while we regrouped and found a new place. It was such a lovely time, and it was so fun to meet and visit with such a nice family. Their house was great and they even had a pool (wonderful for the hot days!), they also commercially grow basil:-) and were just generally great. It was really fun to stay with them also because it reminded us of "real life." The whole family, and house with running water (showers) - even a washing machine! Electric ovens and generally comfortable atmosphere. It really turned a bad experience into a really great one. I'm sorry to say that their family has since suffered a tragic loss, and we would appreciate if our other friends and family could keep these lovely, kind, people in their thoughts.

So, the Farmer's Market was great and so was the Phantom! We really tried to not let the bad hostel experience over shadow those fun times. We then moved into a very cute little appartment that was let out for holiday stays. It was really reasonably priced, especially for the location - which was great, really close to everything! So, then we pretty much finished out our stay doing normal tourist stuff: Table Mountain, beaches, the Waterfront, Greenmarket Square and the Aquarium that you will see in the ample quantity of photos. Shane was really happy too, because he got to do Ju jit su while there - which he hasn't really gotten to do at all since we left. (Though now he is making a plan to start a Ju jit su club here). Basically, it was very lovely overall and a great little respit from some of the challenges here in Lesotho. We got to shower in a real shower every day of the trip! And, we ate a lot of perishable food because we always had a fridge! We found a smoothie shop near our appartment and I think we had like 5 smoothies while we were gone!

Coming back has been fun, friendly faces and familiar rountines, our cat is bigger and is a boy (don't remember if I've said that or not yet). We eased ourselves back in culinarily by bringing back real butter, cheese and even heavy cream! Which we've had to pretty much binge on before it spoils, that hasn't been so bad though! Still enjoying the Cook's Illustrated cookbook a lot, it has been fun to have butter. I made a chocolate chip cookie recipe where they said you should brown the butter first to add depth of flavor - they were amazing, thanks for the chocolate chips! We even made blueberry pancakes, just so we could put the real butter on them:-) (also thanks for the dried blueberries!).

I wanted to share the above photos, they are both from work that I (Carol) have been doing. The one with all of the women is one of the groups that I have been working with. We had a few seeds in the office, just sitting here - so I gave them to a couple of the groups I work with. Unfortunately, a lot of the seeds aren't exactly "culturally appropriate" like the zucchini, but I told them that they could grow it and I would teach them how to cook it. So, I got to the village (before we left) hoping to do a composting demo, then it started raining as soon as we got into the garden! I noticed that their zucchini was ready so, we decided to do the cooking demo. I told them I was going to teach them to cook it like KFC (really, really big here!), so we made fried zucchini slices - they liked them, but added a bunch of salt. I know that I'm supposed to be teaching healthy stuff, but that recipe it just so delicious and I was sure they'd like it because of the KFC thing, and it was easy. It was really fun though, and maybe you can see that they aren't very used to getting their photos taken! This group is great though. This time, as soon as we pulled up they welcomed me by giving me a jar of canned peaches to take home! My collegue explained to me that "even though Basotho people can be counted among the poorest of the world, they will still give anything they have to make you feel welcome."

The second photo is of the bakery I've been working with. For a long time they have just been in that shipping container, but with no sign or anything. The bakery is great too, it makes these bars, that I swear are exactly like the Nature Valley granola bars, as well as custom baked cakes. So, I've been encouraging them to make a sign - even just paint something on the side so people know what it is. They told me that when we got back from Cape Town, it would be done - and guess what - they had done it! No small gratification in the greater scheme of PC projects! So, I see I've been verbose again, and you still need to go look at more pictures so, I'll leave it at that. As always, our best wishes to everyone who is keeping up with us. Lots of love from Lesotho!

Shane and Carol

PS- please don't forget to write and tell us how you guys are doing!

Greetings from Lesotho!

We hope this post finds you all well!

I noticed that my good friend Sarah just posted a comment about how long it has been since we have posted - we have been in the winelands and Cape Town since the 9th, we just got back on Saturday pretty late after about 15 hours of straight travel we just made it (in drenching rain) through the border gate to Lesotho before it closed, after waking up in Cape Town. The wonders of modern transportation! We've created a new page that I'm slowly loading photos onto - the internet connection - though wonderful to have is still very slow and, bear with us, we've got a ton of photos! I'm trying to narrate through the trip using the photos, so please for this post, check out the Vacation pics page to hear too much about wine, and to see pictures of food and flowers. As of today I've gotten the pics uploaded for 3 nights we spent in the winelands (where I also got my first haircut since May - yay!). We'll ease up on the food pics for the Cape Town section, but I couldn't help myself on all of the cool plants on top of Table Mountain! So stay tuned as well.

We are now back home in Lesotho - there I said it "back home" after 8 months here! It has been fun to come back to familiar and friendly faces, our "jobs," house and our kitten who isn't so tiny any more! The change in weather has been extreme. It was swealtering hot in Cape Town, and here it has been rainy/misty and coldish and so it goes. We send our love, hugs and best thoughts and wishes to you.

Carol and Shane

After months of delay we finally got our layer chickens. The gardens of the community center have also really started to grow. The chickens are going to provide eggs for the orphans and needy of the village, along with vegetables from the gardens. We wanted to have free-range chickens and demonstrate how you can raise chickens without building an expensive concrete building. We built chicken tractors instead, enclosed chicken runs that are portable. After the chickens have eaten all the grubs and weed seeds on one spot we move the tractor/run to another spot and the previous one is fertilized and ready to be planted. Although the tractors/runs are pretty simple, it’s taken many, many hours to build six, we still have one to go. We got layer chickens from South Africa. The chickens are a couple of months old and have lived in cages their whole lives. They had never seen sun or had the freedom of running around, and apparently don’t know what to do with it. One mme (woman/mother) from the support group that we work with joked that the chickens were like us Americans here, since after four days they are all still clustered in the shaded ends of the runs, apparently afraid of the sun, rain, and not being in a tight pack. We paid a neighbor with a covered pick-up truck to drive us to town to pick up the chickens. The chickens arrived four hours late on a huge semi-truck, packed into metal crates more densely than I would have thought possible. There were customers ahead of us that we were getting hundreds of birds and we sat and waited as they grabbed the birds two and five at a time by their feet and flung them into the backs of pick-ups, cages and boxes. It was a real site. When we finally got our fifty chickens and were back in village it was almost dark and we still had a giant hill to climb carrying all fifty disgruntled birds. (There are no drivable roads that go up to the center.) But quickly a group gathered to help us, and the chickens were surprisingly complacent about being carried, I didn’t get scratched at all. We didn’t have time to prepare and put them in the runs, so we put them in our office for the night. We had a real mess to clean up the next day, but with the village support group’s help we managed to get all the runs in place, with the birds inside, fed and watered. I was very encouraged to see how the group took charge of taking care of the birds, taking turns every day to climb the hill to feed and check on the chickens. If only the chickens were as cooperative and would start laying some eggs.

Last week I received an email from a buddy of mine back home, and he asked me how my outlook on life has changed and how the value that I place on certain things (needs vs. wants) has changed. I thought about it a lot over the past week, and that is definitely not enough time to come to a full conclusion. In fact, it will likely not be until I have finished this journey that I can answer with any amount of true understanding, but as for now, I have a few thoughts to begin answering these existential questions.There are things like missing the food you like from time to time, but those are things that you expect when you sign up for an assignment with Peace Corps. There are things that I didn’t think about such as having to wash my clothes (including jeans and sweatshirts!!) by hand, but that is still something that I should have expected and actually don’t mind doing. I knew I would be grateful for this opportunity (I was grateful before I even got here), but since I have arrived, I have seen myself change a lot - in mostly positive ways.I think I have become a stronger person since my arrival in June, but that mission started well before I left the US. Being here has helped me solidify my sense of self, and I no longer consider any avenue other than being true to myself. I still have trouble sometimes getting the words right, but the bottom line is that I have to be real – with myself and with others. There is no dancing around the truth – it is there, and someone has to speak it. (I learned this working 3rd shift with my KGB if from no one else!) For better or worse, I offer my services to the necessity more times than not. I still have some work to do on being eloquent and articulate in this particular area, but the work must continue! It is a funny thing – I have been living independently since I was 18, but it wasn’t until I moved to Africa that I learned what true independence is. It means cooking every single meal, washing every item of clothes, cleaning every inch of your home (including the front yard/porch), boiling and filtering every drop of water you consume, and killing every inhabitant of your home that you do not think belongs. There are times when I am tired, and I don’t want to cook. If I don’t cook, I will go hungry (and driving to the nearest drive-thru is NOT an option). Or times when I don’t feel like doing laundry. If I don’t wash my clothes, I will have nothing clean to wear the following week, and in Lesotho, cleanliness is next to godliness (or however that saying goes). Sometimes it is tempting to just drink the water because everyone else (PCVs – ahem!!) does it, but I know that going home for something as preventable as a parasite from unclean water will be a difficult thing for me to live with – so I religiously boil and filter my water. That said, these things are the more obvious difficulties that we face…certainly not much different than the challenges my great-grandmother faced when she was my age (but how denim became a popular fabric in an era prior to washing machines may forever blow my mind). So no use in crying or expecting too much sympathy from that. But I will say that I have a new found respect for generations who have gone before me (and the Amish, of course)! J The value I place on a clean glass of water from the tap is something I hope I will never take for granted again once I am back in the US. I am a “princess PCV” because I have a flush toilet, but I will tell you this much – I sho am grateful for that thing! And my health. Lord have mercy, I never understood how fortunate I was to be born into this world disease-free. It is an unfortunate state that so many children here do not have the opportunity to be healthy for even one day of their lives or to even have parents who are. Many children are orphaned by the time they are five years old – something most of us cannot fathom.I think one of the less obvious challenges we face is isolation. I am in a pretty remote district of Lesotho up in the mountains, and the closest volunteer (until about a month ago) was over an hour away by bus. I was able to see fellow PCVs often enough, but when I got lonely or frustrated or discouraged, I had to rely on my own coping skills to get me through. Eventually, I would have the opportunity to talk to someone and “let it out,” but I was surprised and pleased to find that I had the strength to get through the hard times. Knowing that so many people support me, care for me, and think about me definitely helps keep me strong. I have been overwhelmed by the letters, packages, and emails I have received in the past few months! I sincerely thank each of you who have taken the time out of your busy lives to send me a good old-fashioned handwritten letter. You cannot imagine how great it is to get mail! Due to the care packages I have received, I think I could clean and feed my entire community. All I can say is that there is gratitude pouring out of my ears!! I am very lucky to have another PCV as a neighbor now. He moved to Thaba-Tseka in December to teach at the local high school, and he is only a 20-minute walk from my house. So he will NEVER know about isolation since he has the best neighbor in the whole flippin’ world! JK. JK. JK.Enough about how awesome I am, I want to tell you about how much respect I have gained for others working abroad. I have always placed a great deal of gratitude and respect on our nation’s military, but working as a “peace-keeper” has increased my awareness of the risks they face. We are blessed to be living and working in generally peaceful nations where we can actually create the kind of change PC is missioned with doing – education, agriculture and business work, youth development, HIV/AIDS awareness, and so on. I am grateful for those who give years of their lives to live in places that are not as safe to protect our country so that we are able to do our work. I would like to think that, with the right mindset, we are working toward a mutual goal of making the world a little better one by one. Of course both sides falter from time to time, but I hope that people are doing the best they can for the most part.As Debbie-downer as parts of this post might sound, I am truly filled with a sense of gratitude and genuine joy that I can live in this beautiful country with my extraordinary Basotho friends and neighbors for two years. I am so happy to be thriving, and I am trying my best to live up to the expectations I had of myself before I came. There will be future challenges and triumphs just like in any walk of life. The bumps in the road and the high points are usually a little more drastic, though. Great – now it went from Debbie-downer to sappy in three sentences! I hope to update again soon – maybe with some stories next time and not just my rambling thoughts! Take care and keep in touch!

Khotso (Peace)

Tara

Or new ones made. Why isn't that part of the song?

A discovery, a juicy one: A person can be reinvented without changing a single thing about themselves. Just change location. A change in surroundings and in people suddenly throws your same borrowing old personality into a new light and you are at once a bright shining new human and your same old same old, one in the same.

Listen: Google maps can't find a way to get from Paraguari, Paraguay to Hudson, Michigan but it seems to be just under 5,000 miles as the crow flies (ask my Mom, she knows a more specific number to which she cries herself to sleep every night). In spite of that seemingly insurmountable number and lack of driving directions, I'm closer with my parents now then I've ever been in life and luckily for me that also goes for a couple of bright shining little stars of friends who are practically family as well. That should be it. My luck should be run out because relationships like I've harbored in the last year are priceless.

But, alas! Look at me in Paraguari. I've reinvented myself as this mysterious norte who at least a few people seem to love. The l word I'm using and I mean it. I am at once a different person here and absolutely myself. I'm my father's daughter and somehow yet 100% the granddaughter of an 86 year-old Paraguayan abuela who I take naps with in the afternoon. She tells me about birthing her children like they're my brothers and sisters. And I think they are.

Two days ago my host mom was staring off into the south (AKA the side of abuela's house), letting the wind hit her face and looking worried. "La yvytusur," the southern wind, she said, "ombohasyta enteroveva." It's going to make us all sick. That's just how it is, she told me. The southern wind always does this to our family. She asked me if I couldn't feel it taking my spirit away? Yeah, I could feel it. The next day I was feeling down (psychology!!) and she took my hand between hers while we were eating lunch and said to me, as she has before more times than I can count, "That's how I know you're my daughter. We feel the same things in our hearts."

Somehow, when the sappy, emotional, spirit-of-the-earth things are said in another language I don't mind them so much. Somehow when a woman who was a stranger 9 months ago tells me she knows I was meant to be her oldest daughter I don't feel disloyal to my own mother, I just feel incredibly lucky to have two moms. Who would have thought?

To catch up on the 23 years she missed before I popped up on her doorstep, her much-anticipated long-lost first-born, Matchi often asks me about my infancy and my habits as she already knows Jessica and Alvaro's. She now knows when I was born, how long it took, that my mom had an urge to make pasta before she went to the hospital and plenty of anecdotes from the years in between then and now.

To catch up on the years I missed, my body and mind are both syncing up with the family. When abuela has a headache so do I. When abuela gets dizzy so do I. When abuela has the hiccups so do I. Of course I rarely realize that it's happening until later and I say, "Mama, my head hurt all day yesterday," and she tells me without surprise that it was because of abuela. Oh. Of course.

I don't know if I'll teach my future children that the south wind makes us sad and spiritless and that the north wind makes us feel crazy and listless but I know this stuff's too important to lose. And should old acquaintance be forgot..... wait, no! I'm absorbed in my life here but that's the crazy part: I haven't forgotten my old acquaintances nor have they forgotten me. Well, the few faithful and dedicated anyway. It turns out they are the rock upon which this kingdom of dreams is built upon. So thank you old acquaintances. You allow me the luxury of making new ones with some stability waiting behind me. And thanks for not forgetting me because even though I'm in a totally new setting with new people doing new things- I'm still me.

Tapeguahe poraite 2012. Bienvenidos. Welcome.

If you're in a hurry to get this year under way you might want to come back to this entry later. It's a bit introspective and blah blah blah.

The New Year has arrived: This means reflection upon the Old Year; upon auld lang syne, or times gone by (I never knew). Yet as I advertise that very sentiment on the radio in Paraguari, spreading the word about the very non-Paraguayan tradition of making resolutions and looking back on the year gone by, I find myself hesitant to dive into the pool of memories. I'm afraid to get wet again. Maybe because I don't know what hell just happened. Or what's still happening right outside my front door, just under the surface.... it's all little too close for comfort. Or maybe it's because the 'old' one is inevitably a predictor of the 'new' one.... and the last one didn't exactly handle us gently down here. Or anywhere.

What am I saying? Oh, yes, hallelujah! Como siempre, I tell you, Paraguay has provided me the omnipotent gift of personal development and lead me, albeit at times blindly and through pothole-puddles, toward the road called, "Self Discovery" - cue angels singing. I have found myself. At the bottom of a long, dark lake from which the climb to the surface is grueling but- so the gente say- totally worth it!

To figure out what exactly went on in the last year (was that a cow utter I just ate? did you say dog meat? i didn't agree to marry anyone), I have to go farther. Another year, another one, two more. Let's go to Roanoke College, 2007.

I had a professor my junior year who had the unsettling ability to create ethical gray areas from your most grounded beliefs. He could logically and inoffensively question the moral righteousness of any action until you were 180 degrees flipped on your head with your trusty Boy Scout's guide turned inside out, haven fallen out of your pocket in the process. Should've been a lawyer. This same man taught me a valuable lesson. I selfishly wish it was an easy or less painful lesson but that's not the case. L'sigh. The right things rarely are the easy choices and I very begrudgingly admit this while rolling my eyes. Damn life and it's things.

"The unexamined life is not worth living," my professor said. Turns out Socrates said it first but he conveyed the sentiment well enough. This profe-o-mine talked about the pains and heavy costs of living an examined life and then about the concurrent benefits, immeasurable by any standards of man and describable only by those few ethereal, always-elusively-defined words: Bliss, satisfaction, tranquilidad.

I mean, I feel blissful and satisfied when Moose Tracks hits my face but I'm a cheap date. I think he meant something a little more profound. So I commanded myself to look- to really look, look, look damnit! at my life. To examine it, scrutinize it- to buoy up even the murky dark half-truths that keep pushing down from the surface each time they bobbed up. Down, down, down they went and up, up, up I'd have to drag them, into the harsh light of day where they are not distorted by the bend of water or the capricious rippling of waves.

So I look.

I see some stuff. As a well-adjusted and driven 20 year-old, I have the unsettling realization that I'm pretty indifferent to my life. I'm indifferent to my college education. I'm indifferent to my sorority. I'm indifferent to the foods I eat and the parties I pop up at. There are a few shining beacons of excitement in my life at this point- a couple of friends, the thought of graduation, Mexican food on Thursdays. Asi era. Over the next two years, through graduation and graduate school alike, I begin to realize that nothing in my life was really precipitated by me. All the things I wanted to happen, the things I dreamed about and planned for, well they fell through. And the rest happened as matters of consequence. I know Harry Potter whined about a lot of this B.S. in the fourth book so, please Anna, just stay with me a minute. I do have a point.

I applied for the Peace Corps. Granted, I didn't know what I was doing and the act was half the consequence of finals procrastination and half fantastical indulgence. But there I was. I kind of did it on purpose. Kendrick was sitting next me on the computers; first floor of the library; Abril 2009. I started a crazy 9-step process to take me into the middle of nowhere so I could get real with myself and then start doing some stuff on purpose. Thank God it finally worked. I've never spent 11 and a half months examining my life with so few breaks in between to rest the mind and soul (yah, falta two weeks and I'm one year in this country). Normally work distracts a person; family distracts a person; hobbies or the TV or a vacation distracts a person. But here in the wild wonderfulness of Paraguay the hours roll into each other and time is abundant enough for even the moot, sunken mysteries to be signaled ashore. What washes up isn't always pretty but this guy Socrates told me it's always worth it to have a look.

You know, I think I gave Zach Grigsby a similar talk at the ripe all-knowing age of 21 (24 is a lot better, eh? I obviously know it all by now. Psh.) and was baffled when it didn't take. I guess I get it now. A thing as intimate as 'examining' your life is something a person's gotta come into on their own. And maybe I thought I was doing it before- and maybe I was. But I didn't have the strength to take action until the US government dumped me unceremoniously at the corner of Ruta 1 and the Petrobras to begin service last April. Un poco a poco, I'm finally doing it. Take a deep breath. I can see the surface.

What do you want? Looking back at the last 12 months, were you skimming the surface and avoiding the pain that might have come with staying under water too long? We you floating? Were you wearing Buzz Light Year floaty wings, good God, get a grip, man. Maybe getting sunburnt occasionally but, hey, it's better than drowning just to see what's down there. Or is it? I don't want to float anymore. I want to dive- like, scuba, not snorkeling. I want to feel the pressure on my lungs because I forgot to come up for air. That's living. And maybe it's hurts a little but I've decided for myself it's better than never seeing the fauna on the seabed. What if there's a treasure down there....?

Come on in: the water's great.

Posted from Huntly, Waikato, New Zealand.Camped on riverbank at about 710km, big day today just made it into Huntly on dark. Rest and refuelling dai in Huntly tomorrow.Posted from Huntly, Waikato, New Zealand.

Posted from Papakura, Auckland, New Zealand.Orewa 531km then bus through Auckland to Papakura 633km. Weather is hot and humid will be on road early to avoid heat.

We successfully survived our first Christmas away from our families. It was made much easier by the company of good friends. We spent December 23-26th in Maseru. On Christmas Eve our friend Lee had a party for expats and some Peace Corps staff. We had wonderful food and a really good time. Christmas Day we hung around the house and relaxed. It was really nice to have a break after a long month of traveling back and forth between Maseru and Ha Sekake. It was also nice to have hot showers everyday. So many things we used to take for granted! On the 28th Wes and I left for Cape Town. Cape Town is truly an amazing place. I was blown away by how much there is to do and how beautiful the city is. You can view the pictures from the trip here. (We are getting them up as fast as Wes edits them. Right now only the first day of our vacation is there, but more will be coming soon) Steve Huff posted some of Wes’ pictures as one of his “Daily Inspiration” posts. Be sure to check it out here and to look at the rest of his site. There are some incredible articles and pictures from great photographers. Tomorrow the schools are opening up again and we are getting back in the swing of things for our last six months in Lesotho. It feels strange to have so little time left. We are excited to have five people in the community who will now be working with us on our projects. This will allow us to accomplish much more and will increase the sustainability of our work. We have already seen an increase in the number of high school students who are involved in the youth programming at SMARTD. I am looking forward to all of the things we will be able to achieve together. 

January 10thI’m thinking of starting a detective agency in my village. Just like the “The Number One Ladies Detective Agency” series by James Alexander Macall. I love the series. It’s about a woman in Botswana, Africa who starts a detective agency to solve mysteries. Usually the mysteries are silly, like a father will hire a detective to follow his daughter after school to see where she goes. But usually at the end of the book the detective solves a legit mystery. I think I could start a detective agency because a lot of mysteries happen in the villages. First we have my dog swap. I still don’t know how that happened in that situation. Also, my organization’s fisheries project is without fish. The members of the group think all of the fish were stolen during the holidays. This theory is interesting to me because I’ve never seen a fish in the dam since I’ve been here. The water has always been too murky and high to see what is in the water. Now the water is so low from the heat that we are able to see in the dam and…there are no fish! Then we have the big mystery- just the other day, my host father’s shop was broken into! The criminal stole 1000Rand, but while doing so, dropped his phone which contains all of his contact information. Now my family is trying to get a hold of the police so they can track the numbers in the cell and see if any of the contacts will tell them who the owner of the phone is. I believe they will find that thief…and he’s going to be sorry because the village is too small for a criminal to live there once he has been caught. To keep ‘The Number 1 Ladies Detective Agency –Lesotho’ a sustainable project, maybe I can train somebody on what it takes to be a detective and then help them write a business planJJanuary 8thA couple of days ago I returned from vacation in Durban. Richard came to Lesotho two weeks ago to visit me and see my life here. We had a great time and spent several days at my site and then headed to Durban where we had such a good time. (To Richard: I will be writing about you in this post. Hope it’s okay ;))When we rented a car, the rental company had upgraded us to a BMW. In a typical situation I would have been excited, but it made me nervous because I was worried people in my village wouldn’t believe me anymore when I tell them I don’t have money…but it worked out fine and Richard was able to navigate the horrible road to my villages. At site, I introduced him to all my friends, my host family, and my co-workers. He seemed to enjoy seeing my life and I believe it made him understand what the hell I’ve been up to. We did a lot of walking since that is what I do. I showed him how to take a bucket bath, carry water, and light the house. Richard carried his own water and people were laughing because it’s usually a woman’s job. But it’s really good for people in these villages to see that stereotypical gender roles can be shared. He also got to eat all of the traditional Basotho foods like Motoho (sour porridge) and try Joala (traditional beer). I don’t think he was impressed with either, but he was a good sport. I When we headed to South Africa, we stayed along the coast in a town called Port Shepstone. We stayed in a backpackers /hostel for several nights where we met really cool people and spent tons of time on the beach. After that, we went to Durban and stayed in a really nice B&B on the hip part of town. Everything was perfect and I’m super stoked about planning my next trip to South Africa.

In South Africa you'll often hear the phrase "we'll make a plan" in response to the general question: "what will we do?" That's how you approach a problem - you first make a plan. My last year of college, I took a class in outdoor survival skills. It was a fun class that covered very basic wilderness skills, mostly how not to be stupid and unprepared. What has stuck with me most is the professor's advice on what to do after an emergency or if you suddenly realize you're lost. Once you're sure that everyone is ok, stop and make a cup of tea. Simple. It forces everyone to calm down (or if alone, just yourself), brings everyone together around a fire or cook stove, and allows time to think and then act in a rational way.

The running joke in Nigeria is that there is one thing that always works with our planning: What ever plan you lay out, any preparations you make, you can be damn sure that's the one thing that will not happen.

Yet every day we make a new schedule, act and respond and rethink our plan. This trip has been easy in many ways and the stress of the first and second phases of remediation seems distant. But Tuesday we were back in the game. The conference that we came for - that more than 100 delegates were expected to attend from Nigeria, Germany, the UK, Amsterdam, Canada, the US, Australia - was canceled Monday due to the unrest in Nigeria. (Side note, if you're following the unrest in the international media, the phrases "edge of civil war", "next Arab Spring", and "genocide" are absurd exaggerations for the current situation.) For the next 24 hours, we went back and forth on scheduling smaller stakeholder meetings, where and when we might travel, and the overall security situation. This changed every 30 minutes or so, until we finally gave up on Tuesday night and said we'd decide in the morning if a trip to Abuja was going to happen (it didn't).

The removal of fuel subsidies has created massive outcry against Goodluck and the politicians who support the action. A nation-wide labor strike has in many ways united a nation divided by escalating tensions between the two dominant religious groups, Muslim and Christian. While the extremist group, which has been increasingly active in the northeast as well as in the capitol city, releases statements against the Christian president and lays blame for the current economic and social strife at the feet of non-muslims, Christian groups have begun to threaten retaliation. But reading an article about the subsidy strike on BBC, I have to breath a sigh of relief at a story of protesters from the north and south uniting, even forming human chains to protect groups of Muslims and Christians praying in the streets.

No one really knows how or when the strikes will end, though a temporary suspension will grant a few days reprieve starting tomorrow. For this reason, we "plan" that our delayed departure will not be pushed back further. The tensions between regions and religions is certain to continue well beyond the labor strike which has brought Nigeria to an absolute halt. But we can all pray - to whichever diety(s) we so choose - that the strike that has unified all people as simply "Nigerian" will be remembered for at least that.

K.F.A. and I made our way to Montezuma, a beautiful beach town on the Southwern pennisula of Costa Rica, yesterday morning. It took a bus, a ferry, back on same bus, transfer to new bus. We were in bikini on the beach at 1:20 pm feeling like the luckiest people in the world. (Google image to see why!) After falling asleep at 8 pm, we woke this morning at approximately the same time as our previous travel days--5:00 am. That leaves extra time to fill today's high ambitions for our first non-travel day. Already, we have returned from a beach run. It wasn't a terribly long run as far as runs go--you runners know, beach running is quite difficult. To up the intensity (or to have an excuse to quit running) we mixed in a few Jillian Micheals' moves. She knows how to make you sweat. I'm still dripping as I write, but the rising Costa Rican sub is not helping matters. At 6:48 am I already feel accomplished. Time to go make breakfast, and by that I mean--unless K.F.A. is cooking--spread peanut butter on bread.

This isn't exactly a story of importance, instead a wish for my future--may I be as skilled at my parent's in landing stellar neighbors. They nailed it Kansas, nine years later... and we are still in touch with the good people of Lenexa. Here, in Northern Virginia, the essence of excellence has been captured again. Our neighbors, each in their own way, are awesome. I do not want to leave them behind--for a day, for a trip to Central America, for forward progress in my life. They are... that awesome.

For N.J.M.'s December 28th birthday, the neighborhood girls ventured to Georgetown, Washington DC for 10 uninterrupted hours together. There was shopping (till I nearly dropped), lunch we at Cafe Milano (no celebrity sightings), and cupcakes at Baked & Wired (holy heaven!). Good day. Better People.

I know this is ridiculously overdue, but I will do my best to update regularly from here on out! (written on Jan. 8) I live in Lesotho–in Butha-Buthe, the northern-most of Lesotho’s 10 districts (I like to think of districts as states). I live in Sekubu village, which, lucky for me, is just over 10 [...]

I remember one of the behaviors of the Basotho that I found funny when I first arrived was the nose picking. Basotho pick their nose without shame. At the dinner table, on the taxi, when they’re bored, waiting for someone/something (which you spend a lot of time doing here), whenever and wherever! At first I didn’t really understand why everyone was always picking noses, and I found it interesting that as Americans, we are instructed from the time we are toddlers to keep our fingers out of our noses. After some time in Lesotho, I discovered that the reason for the perpetual pursuit of boogers was the climate. I started getting them too. A dusty, dry climate where the sand often blows with the wind tends to give you a crusty nose, and it’s a natural impulse to stick your finger up there to get them out so you can breathe properly. I honestly think my nose has produced more boogers here in three months than it had in one year in the U.S. Anyway, I’m glad to have tissues. This southern belle is sticking to her manners, even though no one here cares if my fingers are in my nose or not. The other thing i find quite amazing is the capability of the Bo-M’e (‘M’e means one woman, Bo-M’e means many of them) to carry ANYTHING on their heads, even a duffel bag of mine that probably had the same weight and awkwardness of an 8-year-old child. These ladies have necks of steel and, although few of them have ballerina bodies, their balance is excellent. They never look like they’re struggling. In fact, they do it with grace. I’ve seen many of them pause, turning their heads to chat and laugh with a friend they run into on the way home, all while a 20-liter bucket of water balances perfectly on each and every one of their heads. Meanwhile Sbongile (that’s me!) is coming up the side of the mountain from the tap sweating, huffing, puffing, grunting, and occasionally sliding along the gravel path with the 20-liter bucket dragging one side of her body towards the ground. When she pauses, it’s to switch arms or to greet the children along the way who are laughing at her. At this moment I feel like the typical American girl trying to “rough it” in Lesotho. The first time I did this, it was seriously frustrating, although I’m beginning to get used to this daily task. I will say that I’ve tried to carry water on my head one time, and it wasn’t pretty. The tap is a long way from my house, and I’m not going to spill my precious water again. However, I now consider this my daily workout, and I hope that my arms and shoulders will be extremely toned and that this will become increasingly easier as time goes on. But, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to carry the bucket (with no hands) on my head though. Anyway, I’ll mess up my French braid! I keep that sucker in for three or four days sometimes. Oh, I guess it’s gross that I wash my hair approximately once a week? If you didn’t have running water, you probably wouldn’t think it was so bad. By the way, happy new year everyone! After all the work and determination it took throughout 2010 and 2011 to get where I am now, I’m very glad to begin 2012 in the beautiful Maloti mountains of Lesotho. My new years resolutions? Have fun, make lots of friends, and make science and math more engaging and comfortable subjects for my students here. I have only vague ideas and expectations of what this year has in store for me as far as experiences and accomplishments go, but I’m excited to see how it plays out!

East Lansing Resident Begins Peace Corps Service in LesothoKevin Koryto, 22, of East Lansing, Mich., is busy packing his belongings and saying goodbyes as he prepares to put his knowledge and skills to work as an international Peace Corps volunteer.Kevin has been accepted into the Peace Corps and will depart for Lesotho Oct.12, 2011 to begin pre-service training as a science education Peace Corps volunteer. Upon graduation from volunteer training in January, Kevin will teach secondary school physics, chemistry and biology, as well as HIV/AIDS prevention efforts.His path to Lesotho began with passion and a desire to do something different, Kevin said.

“This experience will be meaningful to me, and if I didn’t take this chance, I knew I would regret it,” he said. “Those closest to me have been very supportive of my pursuits. Choosing Peace Corps over graduate school was difficult, but they stood behind me.”During the first three months of his service, Kevin will live with a host family in Lesotho to become fully immersed in the country’s language and culture. After acquiring the language and cultural skills necessary to assist his community, Kevin will be sworn into service and be assigned to a community in Lesotho, where he will live and work for two years with the local people.After completing his service as a Peace Corps volunteer, Kevin said he planned to pursue a master’s degree in ecological engineering and to work in the field of storm water management or ecosystem restoration.Kevin is the son of Michael Koryto and JoAnn Merrick and a graduate of East Lansing High School in East Lansing, Mich. He attended Michigan State University in East Lansing, Mich., where he earned a bachelor’s degree in biosystems engineering in 2011.During his time at the university, Kevin was president of the Michigan State chapter of Engineers Without Borders and traveled to Honduras to work on a clean water project in 2010. He also received an Outstanding and Distinguished Service Award from the College of Engineering for work as a mentor, club leader and undergraduate researcher.Kevin has the opportunity to serve during Peace Corps’ 50th anniversary year in 2011. While in service, he will receive all living expenses, full health and dental coverage, and a $7,425 transition fund upon completing service. After Peace Corps, Kevin is eligible for non-competitive federal employment advantage and Peace Corps Fellows/USA graduate programs offering financial assistance.Kevin joins the 326 Michigan residents currently serving in the Peace Corps and more than 6,564 Michigan residents who have served in the Peace Corps since 1961.About volunteers in Lesotho: More than 2,170 Peace Corps volunteers have served in Lesotho since the program was established in 1967. Volunteers in this Southern African nation work in the areas of education, youth and community development, health and HIV/AIDS awareness, and business development. Many volunteers working on HIV/AIDS prevention and care receive support from the U.S. President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief (PEPFAR) program. Currently, 93 volunteers serve in Lesotho. Volunteers are trained and work in Sesotho.About the Peace Corps: President John F. Kennedy established the Peace Corps March 1, 1961, by executive order. Throughout 2011, Peace Corps is commemorating 50 years of promoting peace and friendship around the world. Historically, more than 200,000 Americans have served with the Peace Corps to promote a better understanding between Americans and the people of 139 host countries. Today, 8,655 volunteers work with local communities in 76 host countries. Peace Corps volunteers must be U.S. citizens and at least 18 years of age. Peace Corps service is a 27-month commitment.

Less than 7 days until I leave for Lesotho!

Welcome to my blog! The purpose of which is to share stories and happenings from my Peace Corps journey in Africa to my friends and family back home.

What I Will Do:My primary assignment is to be a secondary science teacher at a rural high school. I will be teaching the equivalent of approximately 8th to 11th grade in the fields of biology, physics, and chemistry as well as possibly math and english. Lesotho has been hard hit by the HIV/Aids epidemic with 23.6% of Basotho older than 15 years old testing positive for the virus, the 3rd highest national percentage worldwide! My secondary projects outside of teaching will be focused on HIV/Aids prevention.

I want to be useful to my community in anyway I can. Hopefully I will be able to incorporate my interests and previously learned skills to aide in coaching sports (Basotho like soccer and volleyball), development of student clubs, water and ecosystem projects, and appropriate technology.

Why I am Going:The main reason is because it gives me the opportunity to chase what I have a passion for, to put my abilities to use helping those who really need it. Other reasons I am jumping ship for Africa include: - Personal challenge and growth - Timing and regret - now or never - Desire for meaningful work - A need for adventure

Where I Will Be:During the first two months (until December 15th) I will be completing training. I will be living with a host family 15 km or so outside of Maseru (capital of Lesotho and only major city). There are approximately 30 other volunteers in my training class. It is referred to as community based training, volunteers live with host families to learn home skills cooking, conversation, washing, etc. and come together as a group for language (Sesotho), cultural, and job/skill training.

After training I will be placed in a rural/semi-rural community and begin working at a secondary school. Where I will be placed is determined by a matching process during training.

How I Will Get There:The journey to Lesotho is no easy jaunt! I leave from Lansing airport at 5:00 am on Wedn, October 12th and fly to Philadelphia connecting through Detroit. Peace Corps staging, forms and presentations, takes place that afternoon. At 1:30 am we bus up to New York JFK to catch the 16 hour flight to Johannesburg on South African Air followed by a short flight from Jo'burg to Maseru. Wheew!

How to Keep In Touch:My goal is to keep in touch via facebook, this blog, and email (korytoke@gmail.com) as much as I can. During training this may be limited but once I get placed my access should get better! So during training write to me and I promise to write back! My initial address is:

Kevin Koryto, PCVU.S. Peace CorpsP.O. Box 554Maseru, 100Lesotho