1. Laptops to Lesotho.2. A beetle.3. Me and the donkey that I owned for about three weeks.4. Horse racing in Ketane.

a few of the animals and insects i spent time with in october...

1. my new hat

2. the military band at the funeral.

3. teachers working with computers.

4. my house at night.

on saturday i went to the funeral for ntate Thibinyane. he was a high ranking military officer so a variety of officers and soldiers attended the funeral, flown in by helicopter. a military band was there as well. the speeches were few but long, and we walked the casket from his house to his grave where the guns fired a salute and the band played while first his family, then the officers, and then others helped to shovel dirt into the grave. there was a feast at his house but i'm left that for his family and friends.

i don't know when i've ever seen this much action in ketane. the children's eyes are glowing. so many helicopters, soldiers, officers, guns, visitors, and everyone is dressed up.

spring is a transitional period between the cold of winter and summer's heat, and i love it, but it brings the strangest weather. on friday i woke up to blue skies, ate lunch under grey clouds, drank hot chocolate while the temperature dropped and then it began to hail followed by rain, and then back to blue skies while i prepared my dinner. today it's cotton ball clouds moving steadily along.

i spent most of the week walking to mafikeng, working with the teachers and students on their computer skills and planning life skills workshops. the teachers are given a life skills syllabus, but they're not taught how to use it, or how to teach the subjects in it (subjects that some teachers may not know anything about). there is a new peace corps volunteer in qomoqomo, so we're putting together a program to help the teachers with the life skills curriculum. i believe we'll be working with four schools. i'm excited for this project, but not as excited as the teachers.

i now have less than a year left. where did the time go?

my favorite bread:

'm'e Tselane bakes hockey puck sized bread called liphapata. she'll send a child to my door to take my order (i always order six) and a few minutes later, fresh, warm, soft bread. liphapata is perfect for egg sandwiches or as a snack for the walk to mafikeng.

the best bread in ketane is baked by 'm'e matsepo, who works at the post office and is the niece of ntate Thibinyane, who we buried on saturday. most bo'me make bread that tastes a little bit sour. 'm'e matsepo bakes these delicious loaves of white bread that are so soft...i just want to hollow them out and sleep inside. i've gotten quite a few other people in ketane to start buying there bread from her. i'd mail it to you if i could.

Peace Corps News Release

Peace Corps Mourns the Loss of Volunteer Thomas Maresco

WASHINGTON, D.C., Sept. 4, 2010 – Peace Corps Director Aaron S. Williams is saddened to announce the death of Peace Corps volunteer Thomas “Tom” Maresco in Lesotho. Tom, 24, died as a result of a gunshot wound on Sept. 3 in Maseru, the capital of Lesotho. The investigation into this incident is ongoing, but at this time it appears it may have been an attempted robbery.

"Tom was an exceptional volunteer, leader, teacher and coach – he was an integral part of his host community where he shared his passion for teaching, music and sports,” said Director Williams. “We are deeply saddened by this tragic event, and I ask that you keep Tom's family and our volunteers and staff in Lesotho in your thoughts and prayers.”

Tom, of Port St. Lucie, Fla., was a secondary education teacher in the village of Katse in the highlands district of Thaba-Tseka. He arrived in Lesotho for Peace Corps service in November 2009. A graduate of the University of Florida, Tom served as a science teacher in Lesotho. He was an active member of his local community in Katse and coached youth in a number of sports including basketball and swimming. Tom became his district's representative on the Peace Corps Lesotho HIV/AIDS committee and was committed to developing innovative ways to address HIV awareness and prevention among young people. He was scheduled to complete his Peace Corps service in January 2012.

The Peace Corps is providing grief counseling and support to volunteers and staff.

The Peace Corps works closely with the Department of State's Diplomatic Security operations, the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and other federal agencies to support, as appropriate, the investigations conducted by host country law enforcement. Crimes committed against Peace Corps volunteers overseas generally fall under the legal jurisdiction of the government of the country in which the crime was committed. In this case, the government of Lesotho will conduct the investigation into this crime.

There are currently 91 volunteers serving in Lesotho. Over 2,100 Americans have served as Peace Corps volunteers in Lesotho since 1967. Volunteers in this Sub-Saharan African nation work in the fields of education and community health and economic development. Geographically, volunteers are distributed throughout all 10 districts of the country.

As Peace Corps approaches its 50th anniversary, its service legacy continues to promote peace and friendship around the world with 7,671 volunteers serving in 77 host countries. Historically, nearly 200,000 Americans have served with the Peace Corps to promote a better understanding between Americans and the people of 139 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.

1. life skills camp

2. burning the brush on a mountain in the distance

3. taxi police checkpoint

4. impromptu bbq

july became the abyss, the black hole, the month that will no longer be named.

i was sick with a cold for the first week and spent my days drinking tea and my nights drinking soup, and accomplishing little more than getting out to recharge my computer.

school is out for the winter so the teachers are all gone. no computer classes, no work on the sprinklers for the school, no talk of life skills classes.

crs held public gatherings to discuss the sustainability of their projects. some were well attended (the people of Ha Maponyane came out in force, about 100) and some were not (the people of Lebenkeleng, my village, well...they kind of showed up...10 of them). we'll try again next month.

in summary: work was boring and/or nonexistent.

i did buy half a pig which was slaughtered and is now in mohales hoek to be butchered. there will be a long post about that in the future. with pictures. it won't be too gory. you've all seen meat before.

i also had a visitor which was super nice. ausi m came up and stayed for the weekend. she joined us for the gathering at Ha Maponyane and otherwise we just watched movies and read books and ate food.

the americans are invading ketane. there's a new midwife at the clinic who will be here until december and in august there will be a new volunteer at the mission.

it's getting warmer and i'm definitely ready for spring. i'm ready for soccer games and hikes and braais and thanksgiving and christmas. august will bring the teachers back so i can continue my work. and in two months i'll be enjoying cape town in the company of my parents and ausi m. excellent, smithers.

1. Ntate Ernest builds a latrine

2. me and ausi m at ha maponyane

3. public gathering

4. my meat

1. hanging out with the kids while we give a guided tour to some visitors.

2. baking lipapata (bread).

3. kids and plane.

4. sunrise from my house.

the Qobong primary school hosted a party for CRS. they have two choirs and both performed for us. the boys also perform a traditional dance. and it's an awesome dance.

1. welcome to qobong primary school celebration for MOVE

2. waiting for the party to start.

3. the boys.

4. the girls.

video forthcoming.

world cup. game one. rsa vs mex. blankets and beers and bo'ntate.

bafana bafana!!!

i can't embed the video in this post because youtube is blocked by the clinic's network. so just click on the link for a tour of my house.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bvG6mxKsPO8

the wind is ridiculous today. i tried to walk to nohana to meet with the teachers regarding their new usb internet dongle (thanks Janissa!) but the wind decided to feed me dirt so i gave up. i expect the pit latrine at my house to have blown over when i go home. i'll head to nohana tomorrow.

i met with the ketane school yesterday where we worked on our plan for a grant to expand their gardens. they have two large gardens. the vegetables are sold to the locals and also used to feed the children and teachers. we want to build a sprinkler system and increase the number of vegetables grown so the school can make more money. last year they made R300. less than $40.

school is out for the winter so the ketane teachers are leaving. when they come back we'll begin computer classes. none of the teachers has ever used a computer.

a few people from the clinic have also asked for help with computers and/or english. i'm going to approach the site administrator and see if i can use a room for saturday classes; computers, english, etc.

sadly, the masotho doctor has already been transferred to another clinic. i was really hoping to get him out to the schools to talk to the children.

the scare factor of horror movies in increased 100% when watching the movies in complete darkness in the middle of nowhere in the dead silence that is only interrupted by small animals wandering by and eating the plants.

but i love looking out the door as the sun sets to see small fires dot the darkness of the mountains.

but i don't love being woken up every day at 4am by the bus as it honks its horn to tell everyone that yes, it is leaving for town.

1. Converse/Nike Gum Boots.

2. 'M'e Mathumisang Thebane. She owns my house.

3. The road to my house.

4. Ntate Ernest and his new phone booth.

Regarding number 4: The phone used to be on a hill but the people who lived nearby asked Ernest to move it. It's now at the base of a hill which happens to be the intersection from the main road to the clinic. His business is booming at this location. It's also become a social gathering point during the day. He hopes to expand the booth into a small shop.

1. drawing school posters. this one is about accomplishing your dreams.

2. dog in travel box. (the dog is -not- tied to the box; the box is tied to keep it closed)

3. morning exercises during caregiver day at the baylor clinic

4. moving the shop to another town

i had a medical appointment in bloemfontein where the doctor removed a small child made of wax from my ears. i asked him if he had any advice for cleaning ears and he all but shrugged.

an international cultural festival was held in maseru. there was a lot of food. south indian, north indian, sri lankan, ethiopean, chinese... i ate and i ate and i ate. it was delicious. all of it. i should have eaten more.

i'm busy making posters for the schools we work with. the posters are about the importance of school and talk about what children can be if they go to school. i also want to try to put together some career lectures for the children. we just got a masotho doctor at the clinic and i can't let that opportunity pass by. i want to get some combination of the doctor, the clinic site administrator, a member of the police, an employee from the agriculture resource center, and a crs staff member to discuss their jobs and how important school was to their lives.

no one provides any career counselling to the children. most of them want to be things such as policemen; jobs they see on a regular basis. sadly, a few also tell us that they want to be thieves when they grow up. and if you ask a child what they have to do to become a policeman...they can't answer you. my ultimate goal is to convince the clinic to allow me to build a career wall with information from the colleges, the police, the army, etc. and then have someone continue to supply fresh information long after i'm gone. but one thing at a time.

short and sweet.

i'm back.

crs has me working with their Savings and Internal Lending Communities project which is going ok. they're behind schedule so we're trying to get everything in order. they want to have twenty formed and functioning groups, lending and earning money. the people are interested and paying attention and learning so it's going smoothly.

i also met with the school down the road from me to see if i can help them with anything when i have time. they asked me to help with teaching life skills and to help the teachers with any problems they have.

they also want me to build a school for them. they have three classrooms and seven classes. i said i'd help them build a piggery so they can try to make some money. and maybe we'll try reaching out to the church or the government regarding a new school but i don't have much hope for that. crs is already reaching out to help another school that was burned down. i don't know why the people burned it down...but the classes are just held outside under the blazing sun.

my chicken is still alive. it had babies. some of the babies were eaten by wild cats.

at the end of the month i get to go to cape town again. friends from america will be visiting so we'll probably eat delicious food and drink delicious wine and have a good time.

i have drastically cut down on my soda this month. i was drinking one or two a day every day. now it's one a week. i have upped my water intake. and maybe i'm taking in a hot chocolate every other day.

and i think i'm going to start storing drinks at the clinic. refrigeration. it's like magic. things get cold. and then they become AMAZING.

it's really hot. really really really hot. but a good dry hot. with a breeze. it feels amazing to sit in the shade.

on sunday i came to the clinic to use the internet and get some power for my computer. the site admin just lounged in a tree with a beer. we put on some music and watched some guys load a large tin shack onto the back of a truck.

we were walking to a village and some men were working on the road. one of the men stopped us and told us that in the village up the mountain two children had died at a dam. "the blood came out of their noses." he asked me to go to the dam and take a picture.

he didn't say why he wanted me to take the picture or what would happen after i took the picture.

a few hours later we passed the men while we were walking home and a different man told the same story and made the same request.

after asking around i was told the following things:

when the first child died someone should have gone to the dam with a fat belly full of water and because this didn't happen the second child died.

a black magic snake killed the children and that's why i have to take a picture.

there is no dam at this village. it's just a stream.

i wrote this for one of our country newsletters. Maybe it will entertain you...

Media Reviews from a Development Worker's Perspective

Return of the Jedi

I recently watched the film Return of the Jedi which is the fictional account of the true story of how a small tribe of indigenous peoples embarked on a revolutionary crusade to topple their colonialist rulers who hailed from a small European space nation (space station to be exact).

Although the film itself is a masterpiece (albeit a lesser masterpiece [see The Empire Strikes Back]), it left a sour taste in my mouth as I wondered what happened after the credits rolled. Films too often portray the violence of war but rarely the aftermath, and this is where our role as development workers usually comes into play.

I can't help but wonder what aid projects the rebel army implemented to assist the Ewoks as they began rebuilding their lives on the forest moon of Endor. Although there are no statistics on the prevalence of HIV on the moon, I would hope a program of sexual education and condom distribution would begin. Male Ewoks will only take one female as a wife but there is a high likelihood of multiple concurrent partners prior to marriage (multiple females will try to win the same husband through the giving of gifts which may escalate into a casual physical relationship). Ewoks mainly rely on local medicine men for both spiritual and physical well-being and these healers should be integrated into any implemented HIV/AIDS education programs.

As the Ewoks live in a lush forest climate with a plethora of flora and fauna, it might be prudent to review sustainable agricultural practices with the Ewoks. It is likely that the Ewoks will follow in the footsteps of their colonialist masters by pillaging their natural resources in an attempt to grow fat off the profits. Having seen the Imperial Government in action, the Ewoks not only understand the monetary value of their resources but also the need for these resources on the intergalactic stage. It is important to educate them before this takes place, before the developed intergalactic world, through trade laws and tariff manipulation, continue to pillage the forest moon of Endor of its natural resources to build Death Star after Death Star while the Ewoks continue to see none of the profit.

More people might care about the plight of the Ewoks if this movie had paid more attention to the hardships the Ewoks faced in their post-colonial world, and maybe more people would understand the importance of development work had they shown development workers in action; building schools, teaching life skills, creating conservation agriculture programs, and helping the Ewoks to blossom in a modern world.

more questions from my father:

Is the language in your village north sotho or south sotho?

south sotho.

did you buy any of andrew's solar panels?

no, the solar panels went to the school for the computers. but i might purchase solar for myself to get some charge for my computer and phone, but with the clinic a short walk away it's not necessary for me to have power at my house. i can charge things at the clinic.

as the summer solstice approaches approaches for you, how many hours of daylight do you have, and because of all the surrounding mountains, how many hours of sunshine actually hit the ground?

the sunlight appears around 4:30/5am and disappears around 7:30/8pm. my house loses direct sunlight around 4pm because of the mountain directly behind it. so the question of how many hours hit the ground depends on where you live...

which is worse, using an outhouse in the dead of winter or the dead of summer?

i'm regular in my habits and haven't had to use the outhouse any time other than morning when it's still cool. the only problem in the winter is the cold wind that blows from under...brrr.

exactly how hot does it get there in the summer and because you are at a significant elevation, does that mean it gets really cool at night?

the temperatures vary a great deal. one day this week is was extremely hot but the day before (with the same kind of cloud cover) there was a breeze and it was very cool. there also hasn't been an excessive amount of humidity so it doesn't seem too bad. my squaredavel stays at a very comfortable temperature all the time. i'm lucky because houses with tin roofs get hotter faster and take longer to cool down.

you seem to be in a rainy period right now, and since the roads are dirt, does that make them impassable for the non-four wheel drive vehicles?

some vehicles can pass, some can't. the bus won't leave town when it's raining or after a heavy rain and i think the taxis will go depending on how bad the rain is or how long it's been raining.

i've been stuck in conferences and trainings for most of the month and i don't feel like writing about any of it.

so here are some pictures!

1. left door: CRS office. right door: post office.

2. bicycle wheel spinners in semonkong.

3. insect pornography.

4. mugging for the lens.

1. Robben Island Prison.

2. K. in the medical office.

3. Our first day of training in village.

4. Sassy girls in Quthing.

1. Mud fight at the training center.

2. My village and my house (just below the H in house, click on picture to see a larger image).

3. Greg at dawn.

4. Itumeleng's smile.

1. The family at the base of Thaba Telle.

2. The first dung beetle i ever saw.

3. Village road in the rain.

4. The first egg i ever ate from the first chicken i ever owned.

i'll be posting my latest adventures soon. but for now, enjoy this bit of satire by Binyavanga Wainaina from Granta magazine:

BINYAVANGA WAINAINAHow to Write about Africa

Always use the word 'Africa' or 'Darkness' or 'Safari' in your title. Subtitles may include the words 'Zanzibar', 'Masai', 'Zulu', 'Zambezi', 'Congo', 'Nile', 'Big', 'Sky', 'Shadow', 'Drum', 'Sun' or 'Bygone'. Also useful are words such as 'Guerrillas', 'Timeless', 'Primordial' and 'Tribal'. Note that 'People' means Africans who are not black, while 'The People' means black Africans.

Never have a picture of a well-adjusted African on the cover of your book, or in it, unless that African has won the Nobel Prize. An AK-47, prominent ribs, naked breasts: use these. If you must include an African, make sure you get one in Masai or Zulu or Dogon dress.

In your text, treat Africa as if it were one country. It is hot and dusty with rolling grasslands and huge herds of animals and tall, thin people who are starving. Or it is hot and steamy with very short people who eat primates. Don't get bogged down with precise descriptions. Africa is big: fifty-four countries, 900 million people who are too busy starving and dying and warring and emigrating to read your book. The continent is full of deserts, jungles, highlands, savannahs and many other things, but your reader doesn't care about all that, so keep your descriptions romantic and evocative and unparticular.

Make sure you show how Africans have music and rhythm deep in their souls, and eat things no other humans eat. Do not mention rice and beef and wheat; monkey-brain is an African's cuisine of choice, along with goat, snake, worms and grubs and all manner of game meat. Make sure you show that you are able to eat such food without flinching, and describe how you learn to enjoy it—because you care.

Taboo subjects: ordinary domestic scenes, love between Africans (unless a death is involved), references to African writers or intellectuals, mention of school-going children who are not suffering from yaws or Ebola fever or female genital mutilation.

Throughout the book, adopt a sotto voice, in conspiracy with the reader, and a sad I-expected-so-much tone. Establish early on that your liberalism is impeccable, and mention near the beginning how much you love Africa, how you fell in love with the place and can't live without her. Africa is the only continent you can love—take advantage of this. If you are a man, thrust yourself into her warm virgin forests. If you are a woman, treat Africa as a man who wears a bush jacket and disappears off into the sunset. Africa is to be pitied, worshipped or dominated. Whichever angle you take, be sure to leave the strong impression that without your intervention and your important book, Africa is doomed.

Your African characters may include naked warriors, loyal servants, diviners and seers, ancient wise men living in hermitic splendour. Or corrupt politicians, inept polygamous travel-guides, and prostitutes you have slept with. The Loyal Servant always behaves like a seven-year-old and needs a firm hand; he is scared of snakes, good with children, and always involving you in his complex domestic dramas. The Ancient Wise Man always comes from a noble tribe (not the money-grubbing tribes like the Gikuyu, the Igbo or the Shona). He has rheumy eyes and is close to the Earth. The Modern African is a fat man who steals and works in the visa office, refusing to give work permits to qualified Westerners who really care about Africa. He is an enemy of development, always using his government job to make it difficult for pragmatic and good-hearted expats to set up NGOs or Legal Conservation Areas. Or he is an Oxford-educated intellectual turned serial-killing politician in a Savile Row suit. He is a cannibal who likes Cristal champagne, and his mother is a rich witch-doctor who really runs the country.

Among your characters you must always include The Starving African, who wanders the refugee camp nearly naked, and waits for the benevolence of the West. Her children have flies on their eyelids and pot bellies, and her breasts are flat and empty. She must look utterly helpless. She can have no past, no history; such diversions ruin the dramatic moment. Moans are good. She must never say anything about herself in the dialogue except to speak of her (unspeakable) suffering. Also be sure to include a warm and motherly woman who has a rolling laugh and who is concerned for your well-being. Just call her Mama. Her children are all delinquent. These characters should buzz around your main hero, making him look good. Your hero can teach them, bathe them, feed them; he carries lots of babies and has seen Death. Your hero is you (if reportage), or a beautiful, tragic international celebrity/aristocrat who now cares for animals (if fiction).

Bad Western characters may include children of Tory cabinet ministers, Afrikaners, employees of the World Bank. When talking about exploitation by foreigners mention the Chinese and Indian traders. Blame the West for Africa's situation. But do not be too specific.

Broad brushstrokes throughout are good. Avoid having the African characters laugh, or struggle to educate their kids, or just make do in mundane circumstances. Have them illuminate something about Europe or America in Africa. African characters should be colourful, exotic, larger than life—but empty inside, with no dialogue, no conflicts or resolutions in their stories, no depth or quirks to confuse the cause.

Describe, in detail, naked breasts (young, old, conservative, recently raped, big, small) or mutilated genitals, or enhanced genitals. Or any kind of genitals. And dead bodies. Or, better, naked dead bodies. And especially rotting naked dead bodies. Remember, any work you submit in which people look filthy and miserable will be referred to as the 'real Africa', and you want that on your dust jacket. Do not feel queasy about this: you are trying to help them to get aid from the West. The biggest taboo in writing about Africa is to describe or show dead or suffering white people.

Animals, on the other hand, must be treated as well rounded, complex characters. They speak (or grunt while tossing their manes proudly) and have names, ambitions and desires. They also have family values: see how lions teach their children? Elephants are caring, and are good feminists or dignified patriarchs. So are gorillas. Never, ever say anything negative about an elephant or a gorilla. Elephants may attack people's property, destroy their crops, and even kill them. Always take the side of the elephant. Big cats have public-school accents. Hyenas are fair game and have vaguely Middle Eastern accents. Any short Africans who live in the jungle or desert may be portrayed with good humour (unless they are in conflict with an elephant or chimpanzee or gorilla, in which case they are pure evil).

After celebrity activists and aid workers, conservationists are Africa's most important people. Do not offend them. You need them to invite you to their 30,000-acre game ranch or 'conservation area', and this is the only way you will get to interview the celebrity activist. Often a book cover with a heroic-looking conservationist on it works magic for sales. Anybody white, tanned and wearing khaki who once had a pet antelope or a farm is a conservationist, one who is preserving Africa's rich heritage. When interviewing him or her, do not ask how much funding they have; do not ask how much money they make off their game. Never ask how much they pay their employees.

Readers will be put off if you don't mention the light in Africa. And sunsets, the African sunset is a must. It is always big and red. There is always a big sky. Wide empty spaces and game are critical—Africa is the Land of Wide Empty Spaces. When writing about the plight of flora and fauna, make sure you mention that Africa is overpopulated. When your main character is in a desert or jungle living with indigenous peoples (anybody short) it is okay to mention that Africa has been severely depopulated by Aids and War (use caps).

You'll also need a nightclub called Tropicana, where mercenaries, evil nouveau riche Africans and prostitutes and guerrillas and expats hang out.

Always end your book with Nelson Mandela saying something about rainbows or renaissances. Because you care.

i've been slow to update. in summary:

- NPCV has left so i am alone in the valley.

- i had the shortest bus ride from site yet. it only took five hours from ketane to mohale's hoek camptown. i had the pleasure of sharing the bus with my whole "family": my 'm'e went to town for the day with her sister and brother-in-law.

- my schedule for the next two months doesn't leave me much time in ketane. i have vacation this month (hello cape town) and next month we have our all-volunteer conference and then CHED '09 has phase three training (which was supposed to be at the beginning of december)which only leaves me about two weeks in ketane in january. which is frustrating since things are finally starting to happen.

- i met with the doctor at the PIH clinic to discuss the clinic and his work. there's a lot that he wants to do but is restricted both by funding and by staff. but they do SO MUCH already. it's an amazing place. i hope to start some nutrition projects at the clinic. although CRS teaches various kinds of farming and occasionally the importance of nutrition, i don't think they deal with the importance of nutrition and illness (specifically HIV/AIDS) as much as they could so maybe....

- i taught my 'm'e how to make chocolate cake.

- it looks like there is no replacement for NPCV so it will just be me up in the valley. which is a little bit frustrating (more for the school that wanted the replacement than for me) but life moves on. i'll just be getting a lot more exercise as i split my time between lebenkeleng and nohana.

we're staying at the alternative dormitory while the new trainees are at the training center and it's night and we're sitting around, eating, reading, etc, and suddenly we hear a loud explosion followed by smaller pops, like gunfire. we sit, stunned, and stare out the door and start asking if it's gunfire and what should we do? someone dials the peace corps duty phone. someone else notices the open gate and a pcv runs out to close it and looks up and sees the magnificent fireworks display announcing the new mall and grocery store.

oops.

more questions from my father:

is there crime in the mountains?

yes, but i don't know how extensive nor all the kinds. sometimes livestock is stolen. maybe a neighborly disagreement. there is child abuse and rape but these tend to be under reported (although our station does have a CGUP officer - Child and Gender Protection Unit). there's probably alcohol related violence and stupidity. i'm sure most of the crime is petty at best.

also keep in mind that the police aren't always involved. some disputes are just taken to the chief to resolve. i'm not sure where the division is between that which the chief takes care of or that which the police handle, or what happens if they step on each others toes.

is there an availability of handguns in rural lesotho?

the only guns i've seen are those owned by the army or the men that some of the chinese hire to protect their shops. i assume that guns tend to be out of the price range of herdboys and villagers in general. nor is there any need for someone to have a gun. but i'd bet that most of the men have a knife and that most violence is knife or stick related (the herdboys and many others carry arround large sticks for herding the animals...they also stick fight in the herding downtime...).

do people get mugged walking between villages?

if it happens, it happens very very rarely. i might be more at risk as a white person in the village and it's assumed that i am rich. but i'm more concerned with dog attacks than an attack from another human. i might get harrassed by somebody who's drunk or mentally ill but an actual mugging...doubtful.

something else to keep in mind is that there are no secrets in the village. everyone knows everything. there's nothing to do but sit around and gossip or drink. if you buy something new, everyone knows it. if you talk to someone new, everyone knows it.

example 1: my house has a door and burglar bars. when i went to fetch my water i used to just lock the door and leave the burglar bars open. then one day my supervisor came up to me and said, "why don't you lock your house? you should always lock your house!" someone had told him that i wasn't locking all my doors.

example 2: when npcv's dog followed me home, everyone in the village knew that i had a dog at my house. within minutes. maybe even seconds.

it's been a while so here's the quick:

last night i finally killed the mouse in my house. i -just- discovered a hole it was digging into my wall so i plugged the hole with a plastic bag and set two traps on the floor next to the hole. around 11:30 i heard the trap go off and peered into the space between my wardrobe and wall to see two confused and beady eyes staring back at me. i felt a little guilty about his death (oh the inhumanity of the mousetrap) but it was me or the mouse. and now the war is over.

i spent two weeks in maseru which is one week too long. the money drain, the lack of privacy and living out of my backpack...it gets old. it was good to get home. after my seven hour taxi ride. but it was also nice to be in town and see some friends and have some wine and enjoy civilization.

for a while now NPCV and i have been trying to slaughter a chicken and have a little bbq. we've been foiled by rain and vacations and now, in the latest chapter, we were outwitted by the chicken. we think he was hiding in a small forest near NPCV's home but no one could track it down. not even the children. and i'm pretty sure the children are born with an innate ability to hunt down and catch chickens. apparently the chicken returned that night so maybe this week (if we're lucky) his time will be up. and our stomachs will be full.

NPCV is leaving site at the end of november and leaving lesotho at the beginning of december. i'll be taking on some of his projects and i'm excited about this. one is a project for getting computers to a school and the other involves motivating a group of widows to get off their asses and make more bread with their solar oven so they can see some profit (and maybe start some other income generating projects with them).

we toured a sweatshop where an NGO has started a clinic and support groups for HIV positive workers. the sweatshop made clothes for GAP. trivia: the price tags are put on at the factory, not the store. the sweatshop was a decent one. no whips, no chains, and the workers seemed happy despite what we calculated as their pay. the ngo is doing some amazing work and i hope they expand even further.

the next three months will zoom by. r and r falls during thanksgiving this month so i'll be off to see some friends and eat some food. then christmas vacation (hello cape town) followed by our all-volunteer conference at the beginning of the month and phase three training at the end of the month.

Rahm Emanuel, Chief of StaffThe White House1600 Pennsylvania Avenue NWWashington, DC 20500Dear Mr. Emanuel -I know that you spoke at the graduation at Sarah Lawrence College in May and spoke about the importance of service. You specifically spoke about the Peace Corps and that this past year 1 out of every 3 applicants were accepted. Our son, at the age of 31, was one of those accepted and he left on June 2nd for Lesotho in Africa. I believe that his service to our country through the Peace Corps is extremely admirable and to me, on the same level as being in the military. He is living in a third world country, at risk of injury or death for many reasons, extremely remote and isolated from family and contact with the outside world, volunteering his service for 27 months with a salary of $200 a month which is enough to live monthly and that is it. He lives with no electricity, no heat, no running water, no indoor bathroom facilities. Yet, he is a volunteer representing the United States.It is my understanding that there are close to 8,000 PC volunteers at the present time. Where I struggle is the fact that we, as family, must spend a minor fortune to mail anything to our son and sometimes it takes months for him to receive packages. Why is it that PCV’s and their families do not get some of the benefits that our military receive when they are truly volunteering their services for our country? Since our son left on June 2nd we have spent more than $400 to send letters and packages to him since he had a weight limit when he flew to Lesotho and could only take the minimum and has needed things he cannot get there to include just sending care packages. He is doing admirable work with only enough pay to survive each month and I think that there should be some sort of compensation when it comes to getting mail and packages to him as well as all the other volunteers.I would appreciate some sort of explanation and maybe you would like to read about our son at his bloghttp://action-1978.blogspot.com/ he certainly provides a whole new perspective to how we all live and our priorities in life.Thank you for your attention to this.Sincerely,　My MomHer AddressEmail AddressCell Phone Number

tuesday october 13

and then the rains came.

my roof leaks but it doesn't leak much. the problem is that the leaks move along the thatch and the support poles so one minute the leak is dripping in one place and the next minute the leak is moving down a pole and dripping two feet over from the original drip. eventually the water movement settled and the drips could be caught without having to monitor them every five minutes. and my 'me' has taken a look and is going to get something to put on the roof. probably some plastic sheets or a tarp.

rainy days are the slowest days.

i read books. i cooked what little food i had (i was going to do my food shopping on sunday but for the rain and mud...leaving me with only beans and rice) and scrounged for extra food (thank you alex for the freeze dried astronaut food). i did crossword puzzles and i stared at the wall. i read the people magazine that i bought in maseru and cemented my hatred for celebrities and my even greater hatred for the way they are worshipped. i watched tv shows on my ipod until my ipod died. i sent texts from my phone until my phone died. my computer was already dead. i counted the hours. i opened my door and stared at the low clouds and the mud. i wrote some letters. i closed my eyes. the day moved slow.

monday, october 19

they say that, in the peace corps, the men tend to lose weight and the women tend to gain weight. i may break this trend. this weekend i baked two chocolate cakes (dutch oven), made rice pudding, and fried two potatos-worth of potato chips (a small amount...but just the beginning). all of it delicious, all of it easy, all of it in my belly.

the good/bad part about living here is that no one sells rama/butter/margarine so i can only make things that don't use those or skip them. but i tend to use a lot of oil.

at least i'm exercising. one of my co-workers has been leading a few clinic workers and myself through an early evening aerobics routine monday to thursday. it takes place in a hallway at the clinic so it's a bit cramped but we work up a good sweat and it keeps us busy. the same co-worker also wants to do it on the weekend to help relieve some of the weekend boredom.

because the boredom can at times be overwhelming.

the great mountain taxi adventure of 2009

I had my district meeting and i had to take public transportation. so i went to bed at 9pm, woke up at 11pm, stayed up til 2am, packed my bags and shoved my pockets full of bread and rocks. bread for me and rocks for any dogs i met along the path. i saw two shooting stars and listened to a symphony of roosters in surround sound. one taxi droves by going the wrong direction and the drive told me to come back at 3:30. i walked back up the hill, putzed around my house, and went back down to the road at 3am (why am i early in a country that never does anything on time?). one of the clinic workers came out because his boss was also catching the taxi. we waited until 3:30am and the first taxi came by but it was full. The conductor said, "No chance. Maybe in 30 minutes." and they drove off. we wondered if the second taxi was running but then we could see the headlights far off in the distance. so we waited another 30 minutes and around 4am the second taxi came. but by then the supervisor had decided not to come so i climbed in. there were four or five people in the taxi already and the bo'me' yelled at me for sitting in the back corner but then i told them that i am going to the camptown and they shut up. they hate it when people sit in the back corner but get out earlier than everyone else because everyone has to move and adjust and get out.

after i got in we drove about 50 yards, stopped, and backed up to pick up someone else. then the back door of the kombi wouldn't close. it took about 30 minutes to shut it. we finally hit the road around 5am. surprisingly the taxi did not blast the radio at full volume. but the bo'me' did start singing for a song or two. my left foot was resting on beer bottles. i put on my ipod and turned up the music. black metal, for some reason, makes the perfect soundtrack for taxi rides.

we picked up random people along the way and around 9am we stopped in a random village because something was wrong with the kombi. everyone got out and stood around while the driver and conducter fixed the problem. the conducter also poured something which may or may not have been gasoline into the gas tank and then we all climbed back into the kombi and commenced driving.

we stopped in shalani for snacks, drinks, bathrooms, etc. and then the driver noticed something else was wrong with the kombi so he and the conducter again worked under the vehicle, fixed it, and off we went.

we drove by a shopong where they had apparently bought beer a few days before so the driver threw the bottles out the window, honked the horn, and kept on going. i had a window seat which is always good. i could open and close the window as much as i want.

did i mention that the kombi won't start unless it's in motion so a bunch of people have to push it while the driver starts the engine?

around 10:30am or 11am we finally made it to the tar road (i'm so used to bumpy mountain roads i think i might sleep like a baby next time) and about an hour later i was in mohales hoek camptown where i met PCV E and we had lunch and quite a few glasses of wine.

and this camptown is my closest camptown. and that's why they let me fly.

[note to my loyal readers: i've created a second blog. the address will not be made public and is only available on request (drop me an email: aaronlw at gmail dot com). it's the place for all the thoughts, ideas, rants, and raves about my work, peace corps, lesotho, etc. that i don't want to express in this public blog.]

not much to say at the moment. i returned to site about six hours ago in the smoothest and most beautiful plane ride yet. amazing clouds with that kind of pre-rain muted yet pretty color to everything.

in the past two weeks i:

visited a friend in mohales hoek where we made delicious cup cakesvisited a friend in quthing where we drank a lot of delicious cokeswas elected to be the District AIDS Representative for mohales hoek volunteersattended my first tech committee meetingwent to the learn and share forum and stuffed a napkin full of cheese sandwiches (everyone does it)ate and ate and ate and ate and ate and ateplayed settlers of catan twicewatched many moviesate and ate and ate

more details forthcoming. i've got to go fetch water now.

and hopefully before it rains.

there is music in the air in lesotho.

I'm sitting in silc training and it's near lunchtime so everything is winding down and everyone is hungry and anxious for some food so they all start singing and dancing and clapping to pass the time. loud and joyful and it's five kinds of awesome.

then they're distributing uniforms from the office so there is a line up of children and parents outside. i walk out to go buy a drink and some fat cakes and suddenly the children burst into song with the women yelling commands at them. louder! slower!

then i'm standing outside after a morning meeting and the women who work at the post office are busying with their morning chores as they open the office and they are all singing softly. the song is a little bit droney, long notes with little movement up or down the scales, and it makes a perfect soundtrack for the clouds moving by.

baby animals are also in the air. or actually on the ground.

my 'me's pig had three piglets. they are adorable and look like moles, all tiny and wrinkled.

there are baby chickens. i don't know if they belong to my dear sofia/sofie or another chicken but still. babies. maybe soon we will eat chicken for dinner.

regarding the life of a herdboy:

a typical herdboy wears gumboots and pants tucked into the gumboots and a large blanket and they carry a stick which i think is called a molamu and they wear a kind of winter hat that covers them to wear the neck meets the body and there's a large hole for the eyes. they look like like a nightmare, very threatening, but most of the time they're friendly when you say hello. they spend their days herding the animals and throwing rocks at the animals and having stick fights with other herdboys. it's not a life to envy. and it lasts from breakfast to dinner almost every day of the year. some of them are so young. i've seen some who look as old as 10...maybe.

i spilled my bucket bath water all over the floor. the nice thing about a concrete floor? go to bed and the next morning all that water is dry and gone.

my father asked me the following questions so here are the answers for all to see:

does a thatched roof leak?

some do. i don't know if mine does. it only rained once and i wasn't home. some water does seep through where a mouse dug a hole which has since been covered up so i have a small mold problem.

how do you get by without refridgeration?

when i cook something i leave the leftovers in the pan and reheat them the next day. things stay cold if i put them on the floor but they stay cold enough for me just sitting on my table. i have little that needs to be refridgerated. mostly canned foods, water, sometimes orange juice or coke, some vegetables, pasta...i can't buy many if any things that need to be refridgerated at my site which makes it a lot easier.

when you walk from one village to another do you follow road signs along the road (paved?) or do you take short cuts on paths worn by pedestrians?

the closest paved road is about two hours away by private car if the river is low enough to drive through. if the river is high, it's about 5 hours to the paved road. double those times if you're traveling by taxi or bus.

i have seen one road sign pointing towards ketane at a split in the road somewhere along the way. otherwise, there's really only a few roads. the main road ends at ketane (i say "main road" because it's the last stop for the bus) but you can continue on to other villages by driving along one road. that road might split here or there but it's all very simple. i mostly follow the road. my one short cut is when i'm coming back from visiting NPCV, i will cut down a valley and cross a stream rather than following the path with follows around the mountains. the short cut only works on the return because it's a pretty steep hill to climb to see him, but only a short hill to climb on the other side of the stream for me on the return trek. i hope that makes sense... climb down short, climb up steep on the way, climb down steep, climb up short on the return. it takes as much time to climb steep as it does to go around on the way, less on the return. explanation: complete!

are you tall compared to the basotho?

maybe a little, but there are quite a few tall basotho. i'm about eye level with most people i talk to. the women tend to be shorter i think.

how on earth did you endure the long plane ride over there?

i sat next to a fellow trainee (now volunteer) who has become a good friend and we both attempted to sleep and i watched parts of many movies but didn't finish any, a few tv shows, and i had an aisle seat so i could occasionally stretch my legs. but it was not comfortable. and i missed my chance to grab two open seats next to me and spread out.

what kind of container do you use to store your boiled water?

i have two pitchers, a 2Ltr and a 3Ltr, that i keep water in. I also keep water in two 1Ltr water bottles and my nalgene. i try to keep the pitchers full but some days, like today, i've just been to lazy to go fetch water so i don't have anymore. but i have orange juice instead. i use two buckets to store water and fetching water is my least favorite thing to do. the tap is a bit of a walk down a hill and the return trip with a full bucket of water is not so fun. i'm going to start spreading the word that i'll pay a few rand for someone to fetch it for me.

i'm on my last or second to last day in maseru. i came down with my organization during their week of rest and relaxation to get supplies and enjoy conversations with pop-culture references, irony, and sarcasm. i've eaten well (pizza, hamburgers, indian, cookies, cookies, pizza, cookies, wine) and had a blast. the training center outside of training is a little like summer camp with a rotating door of visitors.

the bed bugs have done a number to my body. my lower back is littered with bites. it reminds me of those pictures of the civil war dead, so many, all lined up. and i can't stop itching. i even itch while putting on anti-itch cream. i'm going to spray the hell out of my squaredaval when i get back just. to. make. sure. and put my sleeping bag and matress in the sun for a few more days.

on saturday a few of us were invited to the home of the charge de'affairs for the embassy to learn how to fence. i prefer the foil to the sabre. the sabre is brutal. i like the elegance of the foil. but i suck at both. at least i scored some points with the foil. i found myself on the defensive with the sabre and my parries were never enough to deflect the sabre so i wouldn't even call it defensive. i was just a moving target.

i saw the most pornographic dog i have ever seen. it was fat with a donkey sized litter in its belly, teats dragging on the ground, limping on three legs, a mangy ragged coat, and it flopped on its belly and looked right at me with scarily needy eyes. it was the stereotypical old french whore. but in dog form. i didn't touch it.

next week i have some training on a new project they're rolling out to help villages generate income. the idea is to pool some money together and people can borrow from that pool and pay interest which is paid back into the pool of money and then, and on this point i'm not quite sure, but the interest can either be used for something for the village or paid out to the individuals who contributed to the orignal fund.

the training center was full the day i showed up in maseru (a group of Ed. volunteers were going through the close of service session so they were all in town) but luckily another volunteer got me an invite to the house next door. it's a family of four and the father's one of the pilots for the service i fly with (Lesotho Flying Doctors/Mission Aviation). it was like a surburban american dream in the middle of lesotho, and right next door to the training center. wife, husband, two kids, home cooked meal, and their friends came over to watch the office with tea and coffee and much laughter. two fat dogs (not mangy), two cute cats (no worms), trampoline, jungle gym. a little surreal and a welcome escape and a comfortable bed. every now and then...i crave a little dance party. new pictures have been posted. enjoy.

My nearest PCV (from here on referred to as NPCV), a 45 minute walk, gave me the best housewarming present i have ever recieved: a chicken. i have named her sofie/sofia (depending on my mood) and she lives in a small shack behind my house (and by shack i mean two piececs of wood, a sack, and two large rocks creating a modified "house of cards" for her to have shelter at night). twice i have paid children to catch her for me. now she has a rope connecting her leg to my house. she laid an egg on our first day together, and i scrambled it with salt, pepper, and tabasco sauce and it was the best egg i've ever eaten. i look forward to more of her eggs. i am fond of her but i give her a month and if the egg production doesn't speed up...we kill her and eat her. i think she will be tasty.

there was a mighty dust storm last week. i walked to the machina shop and came back with a mouth full of dirt. i spent most of the day in my house reading books (ian rankin's Rebus detective novels go down like an ice cold coke) and peace corps manuals. the wind blew over our outhouse so later in the night i helped my 'me' and her son put it back into place.

i have a new appreciation for blankets now that i'm here. who needs sheets when there are so many blankets!

i have a new hatred of bed bugs. i've been eaten alive. my arms...they look like the victims of chicken pox. i laid down some Doom and didn't find any new bites this morning. maybe i defeated them. the bastards.

i woke up this morning to find a light dusting of snow on the ground. it was exciting.

NPCV also gave me some meat for my birthday. i've never cooked meat before (hamburgers and hot dogs don't count). i cooked it in olive oil with some garlic, onions, salt, pepper, and chili powder and it was the best meal i've ever made. beginner's luck. or i just paid attention in other kitchens. regardless, yum.

a staple of my diet: spephaphata.4 cups flour. 1/3 cup sugar. some salt. a 10kg packet yeast. combine ingrediants. add water and mix until you have a nice doughy dough. let rise. heat helps. when risen, break off small pieces, pancake sized or less, and cook them in a dry frying pan over a burner until both sides are cooked. yes, it's just basic bread. but it fits in my backpack and my pocket and with peanut butter, it's yummy.

also, i miss cheese.

there is talk of everyone at the move office contributing some money to buy a sheep, kill it, and share the wealth. they have a freezer of some kind in the office so we can all store our sheep meat together as we slowly eat it. i'm excited.

also, i think i should buy a goat.

regarding travel: you know when you get on a rollarcoaster, and it first starts to move, and the rig catches the thing-a-ma-jig and theres a big jolt/bump, and then you start moving? if you can isolate that jolt/bump and loop it, that's what it's like to drive here. except sometime that jolt/bump is more like you just ran over an elephant or ran down a ditch. luckily i am not prone to carsickness. we drove the other day from about 9:30 to 4, distirbuting uniforms to various schools. 3 people in the frontseat, four in the backseat, and three hitchers in the back of the truck. it was the opposite of comfortable.

also, i miss bookstores.

NPCV and I climbed a mountain for my birthday. we saw a great waterfall, the dogs almost killed a goat by chasing it off a cliff (a few tumbles and it landed almost like a cat but with less grace and took off running), and we ate delicious solar-baked bread. at the end of the hike we scored some motoho from a family near his house. it's a sorghum based drink (i think), very thick, somewhat sweet, and completely delcious. Practically a meal in itself. best way to end a hike.

then i walked home and one of NPCV's dogs followed me. i did my best to scare it away but to no avail. i turned around again and there it was. my nieghbors were not pleased. but the dog did chase someone's sheep and someone else's daughter. so i guess they had the right to be annoyed. so the dog and i had an indoor sleepover (dogs DO NOT sleep inside in lesotho). he slept in front of the door and drank my dishwaher and did not leave any of his ticks behind for me. what a nice dog. except for chasing the daughter.

we went to a village to assist them with some gardens. the man we were working with said he would go call the neighbors over. a few minutes later i turned around and he had climbed a hill and was yelling from the top of it, literally calling all the neighbors. it's the little things that i don't expect that get the biggest laugh. good to know the idea of the town crier is still going strong somewhere...

When the sun rises in the morning it caps a mountain that faces my window and door. and when the sun sets it falls behind an immense rock behind my house (the "close encounters" rock).

in the past few days i have: eaten meat carved from the skull of a sheep, had my rondaval full of dancing bo'ntate, hiked and accidently found the other volunteer in this area, walked around and said hihowareyouthankyou more times than i can count, burned my trash with my counterpart and started a small fire, met the chief, police, and clinic staff (all very nice), and watched bo'ntate burn the hair off a recently slaughtered pig.

i might like to sew a stuffed panda bear to sit in the corner of my rondaval. it might be nice to cuddle with on those lonely nights.

the plane flights are easier already. the flight here included two stops before mine. the runways are short and tend to end at a cliff. the views are breathtaking and the landings are easy. maybe, in the end, it's just the giant jumbo uncomfortable packed-like-sardines planes that i dislike...

my house has no furniture except a borrowed table, bed, stove, and heater.

the Ched 09 group threw me and another trainee a surprise party on the day we swore in because we both have august birthdays. it was amazing and maybe i shed a tear. i felt very loved.

it was tough to say goodbye to everyone when i left the next morning. you spend this much time around people, you grow fond of them. most of them. all of them. but i know they're out there. because they keep texting me. thank god for cell phones and cell phone service. but, regardless, maybe i shed another tear. and i blame you, my tiny little comrade. let us have ghoulash together soon.

i lost my towel but the kind volunteer "next door" (45 min hike) let me have one of his.

today we drove to various villages in the area. my organization works in various projects and today we were

"spot checking" some gardens that they had helped build. i thought i was isolated when i arrived, but isolation does not describe where these people live. over dirt roads that are barely roads, over rivers that i imagine are impassable when the rains come, twisting and turning over rocks that you think a car cannot drive over...these trucks are like monster trucks but less monster. i cannot imagine the size of the gas tanks. the gardens looked well, some better than others, some greener than freshly mowed suburban grass.

we shot pool at a shopong and had a beer, and then the chief asked that we take an elderly man to a nearby village.

i speak so little sesotho but everyone is so happy that i speak any at all which makes me want to speak it more. a strange pavlovian effect.

the mountains astound me. all around me. i am a dwarf amongst them. there is a project to take some of the streams/rivers and create gravity irrigation systems. there were two be three near my village but after surveying the quanity of water vs. quantity of land, it has been reduced to two.

the clinic is like a city apartment; television, internet, running water...it is strange to be in here after being in my rondavel where my clothes and stove sit on cardboard boxes and everything is else is (nicely) stacked on a table in the corner.

my 'me' seems nice. her brother-in-law speaks english and we have had a few talks. when time permits i may help him finish building the walls around my me's house.

i am tanner than i have ever been. a ridiculous farmer's tan.

new photos have been posted. enjoy them!

and a hello to all the parents out there reading this. you have raised excellent children and we are having a fantastic time.

i flew to my site on monday for a site visit. i met the crs staff, i toured the village, and we left my site at 3am. after loading the sheep. then we ran over a rabbit, put it in the back of the truck, drove through a river, and made it to maseru by 9am. 24 hours. it might be a record for shortest site visit at such a distance. but i've had two full days to relax, and do laundry, and read, and watch bad movies, and have a fantastic dinner. everyone else comes back tomorrow. so that's that.

only a few more days now...less than a week. and we are sworn in.

my site is surrounded by mountains. i feel like a hobbit. my house has no furniture. hopefully that will be remedied by the time i return, but i doubt it. welcome to peace corps.

the village has: a very nice modern and vacant police station (although there is a small staff of policeman there). a partners in health clinic. a store for supplies, two stores for small supplies and beer, a community council, a govt. agriculture resource center which is apparently never staffed, and a bus station.

i have cell service outside my house, and maybe inside if i hold the phone to the window and say some magic mumbo jumbo and dance around the cellular tower idol i will build.

the flight was short and provided magnificent views of the snow capped mountains and the ketane falls, and i only gripped my knees in fright....five times.

no matter how much i wash them or scrub them or cut them or clean them....

my fingernail are always dirty.

random notes:

peeing in a bucket is fun and much warmer than the outhouse. the worst part of winter is the cold wind blowing up through the hole in the outhouse. is this too much information? welcome to my life.

my family did not have electricity but many homes, like mine, are rigged for electricity. power outlets, electric lights, some even have tvs. the village is trying to get power. there was a meeting in my family's yard about it. i can charge my cell phone at a shopong; they usually have solar power or a car battery and converter to power stereos to play music while the abuti and ntate have some drinks and play pool. all three shopongs in our village had pool tables. it costs 2 to 3 rand to charge something at a shopong.

coke liters are sold in bottles and some shopongs will give you a hard time if you try to buy another coke without having first returned your other bottle. a shopong near a fellow trainee would always confuse me and the trainee and never sold me coke, always telling me to bring back a bottle (that i didn't have because i'd never bought a coke there because he wouldn't sell it to me because i didn't have a bottle to return because and round and round it goes). we boycotted that shopong for the last week in village.

it's harvest time. my family's yard is covered in corn. the bo 'me' come over and take rocks and chip off the kernals. some family keep it, crush it, and use it for papa. my family has enough that they also sell it.

the herdboys wear face masks that make them look like terrorists and they carry around large sticks to hit the cows and donkeys. another herdboy hobby: throwing rocks at the animals, even if the animals aren't doing anything bad. i don't condone this hobby, but it does look like fun to throw a rock at a donkey's ass.

i'm a lot less friendly to dogs here. they're mangy and possibly rabid (which is a big issue in the mountains so i won't be spending a lot of time outside at night). most animals stay outside. my heart has hardened and it no longer bothers me when i hear the cat meowing in the cold. it is what it is.

"phepi" means i'm sorry. but you have to say it in this really kind of sing song childish way, almost as if you don't mean it. but you do mean it. mostly.

i have eaten the hell out of some oranges here. but i apparently do not know how to eat an orange. so when i do eat one, it becomes a source of entertainment for those around me.

we gave a nutrition demo to our bo 'me' about how to cut meroho and how long to cook it and that they should cook papa with milk. my bo 'me' said she would try it. and then told me that the kids hated it.

i love bo 'me' because when they walk into a room, no matter how warm the day is, they enter in coat and scarf and hat and immediately walk to the nearest heater, sit or squat, and rub their hands in front of it. and in a few minutes you will have a circle of bo 'me' chatting away and rubbing their hands in front of the heater. it is completely adorable.

if you purse your lips, blow out air, and wiggle your pointer finger horizontally in front of your lips at the same time, you are telling someone that they are lying.

i think i'm going to continue calling everyone 'me' and 'ntate when i get home. it's just kind of fun.

village based training is over. we had our final feast today. i said goodbye to my favorite ausi, Itumeleng (her smile is going to break so many hearts, wait til i can get pictures up), the chief of the village gave a small speech, there was dancing and singing.

we got to wear the blankets that everyone wears and i totally understand why they wear them. so comfortable and warm.

in my village there was a large field that i had to walk through to get home. there was always a large group of girls there playing games. and one small dust covered boy in gum boots who would always ask "labitso u hau o mang?" which means "what is your name." everyday he would be there and every day he would say this so obviously his name became LabitsoUHauOMang. sadly, i did not get to say goodbye to him.

last week was a wedding. the night before the wedding some of the trainees in my village got together for dinner with a trainee who lives next to the hose where the wedding feast would take place. that night, in a tent outside the house, lit only by candles and lamps, the women and girls sang their hearts out all night. it was so beautiful to sit outside and listen to them. then we saw a shooting star with the biggest tail. kind of a perfect night.

i am placed in the mountains. i will be flying to my site. there is a Partners in Health clinic about 1km from my site and my primary organization is Catholic Relief Services, working on HIV and with Orphans! yes! the next biggest village is about 2hrs walk or an hour by horse, and yes, i am going to look into getting a horse. cowboys and indians. i have a thatched roof and a water tap "nearby" and it sounds like i will have cell phone service. but we shall see. i was very nervous about being so far out but after talking to some people (thanks megan and oscar!) it sounds like it will be amazing. and it sounds like an exceptionally beautiful area.

a few weeks ago i woke up to the sounds of all the dogs barking and in my half-awake half-dream state i believed that the dogs were barking because they didn't recognize my smell; they could only smell my spices and were confused. sometimes...i am odd.

we're all back at the training center now and fighting over who gets to use the laundry machines. i am on my last pair of socks so i will be up all night if i have to.

the other day my tiny polish friend, karolina, made pumpkin pie from scratch and had never made it before. it tasted like home, like both dysfunctional and functional family thanksgivings, and it pretty much made my day. f'ing delicious.

this coming week are our site visits and the week after is our language exam and swearing in. then it's official.

suck it, trebek. i'm going to be a volunteer.

we started hiking in our village at the end of the day. we would climb up to this plateau where suddenly there were fir trees and pine cones and everything was green and out of place. like walking through the wardrobe into narnia. minus tumnus and plus a few herdboys and sheep. amazing sunsets were seen. we also accidently walked into south africa by walking into the middle of the river that divides the two countries. but i don't think it counts.

love you all.

my abuti (brother) asks me what i listen to. i say everything. he says he likes rock. he askes me where rock comes from. i say something about elvis pressley and chuck berry. he looks at me quizzically and says, "maybe ishould rephrase. rock is so much power. where does this power come from? there is so much of it," and then he plays three loud chords on an air guitar and looks at me.

our baby calf has a cleft palate.

we went on a site visit with a current volunteer. she had the eyes of an owl and swatted a spider from my back as i read an essay on death. she killed the spider with a deck of cards.

we had to take three or four varieties of taxi to get there, ranging from the nice (a quantum) to the broken (i call it 'apocalypse taxi'). crammed in with either a friend or the conducter half on my lap (the conducter takes the money for the driver, opens the door, and loads in the large bags of rice and corn that people have bought).

we bathed in the same room, brushed our teeth together, cleaned our noses, read our books, ate our food, and even, at night, sometimes peed in the bucket in the corner. gives new meaning to the term houseguest.

our volunteer, K, cooked delicious food and stole our hearts. spaghetti and homemade meatballs. brownies. cinnamon buns. curry. yuuuuuum.

she took us to meet the community council secretary who was maybe a little drunk and mocked the us soccer team's loss (it was a bit embarrassing), attempted to tell us the biblical story of jacob, interrogated us on why we were there, and told us over and over again that he expceted us to come back and visit. if K is cooking, i will be there.

i did my laundry yesterday and my hands were cramped into claws by the end. note to self: do not wait until all my clothes are dirty to wash them. i may take up the common practice of washing my underwear and socks when i take my bucket bath.

we are counting the days until our site placement announcements (next friday). i had no preferences. wherever i go, there i will be.

yesterday i taught my sister to make an origami crane. i also gave a presentation on liquid manure. it was full of pictures. use your imagination. on sunday we are having a fundraising concert for the village as kind of a thank you for letting us stay there. songs to be sung: this land is your land. candyman frm willy wonka. supercalifragiwhatever. and maybe, if i have my way, under the bridge by rhcp. because for some reason, it's the only song i can remember.

i'v been plowing through the books:

river of doubt was amazing. the house of spirits broke my heart over and over again. deadeye dick was ok; i feel like vonnegut wrote it in his sleep. the invisible man was incredibly boring. life the universe and everything amused me. and the year of magical thinking is a nice meditation on grief.

a few random notes from my private journal:

"capital is a coward, it does not go where stones are thrown"

staring contest with a donkey and the donkey started braying maniacally. he won.

on a plateau, setting sun, and the birds sound electric.

in the distance i could see a line of fire moving across the dark horizon. field burning in thenight.

my dinner prayer when my family is watching: thank you lord for this food grown from your earth by our hands.

if you lose a card game you must "clean the dirty diapers" (Pick up the cards)

i don't like asking for things because everyone has given me so much (two packages this week, holy hell i know the BEST people, and i owe you all so much....) but i could really use an undistorted map of the world. something that shows africa as the gigantor it is. i think the kids should see it.

training rolls on. my body is composed of oranges, tea, and curry powder packets with vegetables. i am making some delicious food. my favorite meal so far was probably the worst; pasta with cheese sauce served over a fried egg. delicious.

this weekend we head out for a site visit with a current volunteer. public transport, a big hike, and we stay there until wed. i'm ready to get out and see something more than the city and our village.

village life is good. i wake up with the roosters. i saw hi to the cows and sheep on my walk to school. we hiked to the river that forms the border with south africa. i boil all my water. my family is amazing. the father works all day, the mother works all day, the children work all day, but they sweat joy and love. i've never seen such smiles. for real. my brother asked me about rock music. my sister wants to be a lecturer. there are three sets of twins in my family. the sky is expansive. i can see a thunder storm in one direction and blue beauty in the other. our training group is split between two villages. last week we walked to the other village and played soccer. no one is sure who won but i scored a goal so i'm happy.

the nights have been getting colder but my room in my family's house is very nice and keeps me warmer than some other trainees. in bed by nine. up around six. breakfast is an orange and some homemade bread. lunch is leftover from dinner, and dinner is usually vegetables and spices or maybe pasta. i enjoy the routines i'm creating. the bucket bath ritual is a good time for reflection. the cooking ritual is a good time to think about how hungry i am. i read a lot. i finished river of doubt (amazing) and have started house of spirits (amazing). next up: wuthering heights.

i have a phone and phone number:

+266 595 200 93

i finally got some pictures up; all of them from our travels and the first week at the training center. we're all a little dirtier, a little hairier, and a little wiser than we were then. i don't have my laptop with me in village so it might be a while before i can put up more pictures.

time is flying by. a little more than four weeks until we are sent off on our own. i'm ready for it.

and i am completely in love with bucket baths.

today we had an hour session on diarrhea, how to know when it's bad, what to do, what not to do, and that it's inevitable for all of us. Welcome to Peace Corps.

i'm with 15 other peace corps trainees (pct) and we're fueled by tea, coffee, sarcasm, and laughs. my nights are full of dominos (i've lost 40 rand), reading, and one game of poker for our leftover american change.

the voyage was long. we left the hotel last tuesday at 3:30am. bus to new york through a rainstorm. waiting at the airport. we saw "ben linus" from lost at the airport conveniance store. regardless of this omen, our plane landed safely in johannesburg. no time shifts for us. other than time zones.

we were at a hotel in johannesburg from 10am to 3am. sat by the pool, drank beers, played games. it felt like vacation. our view from the hotel consisted of: nuclear power plant, mcdonalds, sky, roads.

then a smallish propeller plane flew us to lesotho. half of our luggage made it. so here i am. fantastic.

before i go any further, i should mention my "friend" karolina. she's polish and short and kind of annoying. but she's ok. for a jerk. (she made me write something about her. she's kind of vain.)

anyways. the breakfast bell rings at 7. we eat. we kick a ball around. some people shower. i don't. 8am begins our classes. a tea break around 10, more classes, lunch around 12, more classes, another break around 3, more classes, dinner bell at 6, more classes, and then we do our best to entertain each other. the people we're working with are the bees knees. they put up with our piddling language skills as we repeat the same phrases over and over and over again. the language trainers have smiles and laughs that turn my heart to goo.

i'd like to say something about life in africa but we haven't experienced much. most of our classes to this point have been orientation and language. we can leave the compound at lunch and go to town but the rest of the time we're in lockdown.

hip hop seems to dominate the stereo in our house. three rooms with five bunk beds. there's one married couple in our group and they have a bungalow to themselves. in my room: one person snores, one person makes this gutteral throaty suction noise, and one person goes "ahhhhh" just before passing out. occasionally we lose power. my headlamp comes in handy when i have to use the bathroom in the dark. we have such luxuries as a laundary machine, a tv and dvd/vcr, flushing toilets, heaters, and a brilliant chef who makes delicious foods three times a day. i don't know how he spices the meat but hot damn. it is good.

this will all fade in four days. on sunday we move to our training villages. each of us will live with a family who will teach us to cook and laugh at us as we stumble over the language. we've been told this laughter is that of joy as we learn the language. i hope so. i may end up saying thing like, "i live in a banana. i what love chairs lesotho your name is milk."

megan aka buffy the peace corps slayer aka the oracle is the peace corps volunteer who lives in our house and gives us the scoop on life in lestho. i don't know how she puts up with us. girl got skills. and she lets me use her power adapter. you can thank her for this blog entry.

other things: we sing our national anthems in the morning, american and lesotho. we're trying to get our doctor to join us in a soccer game. i have accumulated the following nicknames; alfie, sweater laufman-walker, a-rod, outfit, double a, nickname, runner walker, and aaron runner-walker. i throw my banana peels on the compost pile. i need a cribbage board. portable. fellow trainees practive yoga in the kitchen. i may take up running in the morning. i'm excited to make my own keyhole garden when i get to my final placement. and i am more content than i have been in years. and apparently, someone has dibs. but megan won't tell us who.

i'll have more to say when we get to the villages. take care and i'll send you real mail soon. there just isn't enough time to write letters.

check the pictures link, going to try and upload some.

50lbs. that's my goal. 50lbs in the belly of the plane. i'll have my backpack and another small bag to keep with me. everything else, 50lbs, in the belly of the plane.

my mom gave me some vacuum seal bags so i can pack my clothes like freeze dried ice cream in the space shuttle.

i'm at 35lbs right now. i still need to pack a few more sweaters or hoodies, a "fancy" outfit for various ceremonies, and some nice shoes, and whatever toiletries i decide on. and a towel. which should shoot me up to or close to 50lbs.

i'll have to wear my hiking books while we travel since they are my heaviest shoes. i'll also be "wearing" a hoody and a rain jacket while i travel so i don't have to add their weight to my bag.

the days are winding down...

my aunt, uncle, and cousin bought me a book of contemporary african art as a going away present. it's full of amazing artists from all over the continent, but sadly lesotho was not represented. below are some of the artists from south africa that caught my eye or grabbed my brain.

Willie Bester:"I am sometimes tempted to go to the seasideand to paint beautiful things from nature. But I do not do it because my art has to be taken as a nasty-tasting medicine for awakening consciences."

oliver tambo tribute to biko

William Kentridge:i saw a Kentridge exhibit in New York in 2001, and maybe a piece in the Carnegie International before that...? i fell in love immediately. nothing compares to seeing his films in person (or any of his printed pieces or obviously anybody else's art in general), but here's a decent clip from youtube.

Jane Alexander:"This life-size trio of human-animal hybrid figures, with powdery skin, black eyes, broken horns, and no mouths, sits on a bench in a state of oppressive silence. As representations of the brutal, dehumanizing forces of the apartheid era (1948-91) in South Africa, the figures have been stripped of their identities; they more closely resemble monsters than human beings."the butcher boys

Johannes PhokelaI preferred the other works by this artist, but i loved his description of this painting so much that i'm including it. "Europeans wore much more clothing than Africans when they arrived, and today it is the opposite. Traditional South Africans are offended by semi-naked Europeans sunbathing in bikinis, as they perceive it as a violation of common decency and Christian morality. In some ways they have coveted each other, and yet the economic relationship between the two remains ambivalent."

ONE WEEK TO GO.

i finally have my giant duffel bag and i've begun test runs on how to pack all of this crap.

clothes? check.

cameras? check.

sleeping bag? check.

10lbs of jelly beans? damn. not enough room.

these final two weeks have been and will continue to be amazingly beyond fun. i am surrounded by the best people, both family and friends.

in other news:

i could read the first chapter of the wind-up bird chronicle over and over and over again...