This post is the follow-up to today's original post about why today was so excellent.

I have a Form A maths student named Boitumelo. She has always seemed kind of infatuated with me. Always coming to talk after class, smiling awkwardly... telling me that her mother is American (not true). She's kind of funny. Smarter than most, very hard working, and her English is great. No doubt her future is bright. One day she asked me if I'd assign her an essay topic which she would write for homework, then I could edit it. Naturally I obliged, and I assigned her something dull to write about. She wrote a page, and after I marked it the next day, she asked to do it again. The next day, same thing, and on it has gone, to this day.

Nowadays I have to dig deep to think of new topics. Usually I give her a choice of two or three topics and she tells me they're all awful, but chooses one anyway. Yesterday was no different; I gave her three choices and she grumbled about them. One was "How many boyfriends do you want to have at one time?" It felt like a dumb topic, one which I thought of only because I'm constantly preaching monogamy and thus it was in the front of my mind. I couldn't imagine how one would even answer such a question, and was confident this would not be the topic she chose.

I was quite wrong. Not only did she choose that topic, but she wrote by far her best paper ever. The language was clear, the ideas were more developed (there's even humor!), and most importantly, I was blown away by the wisdom of her answer.

Below, here is her essay in its entirety, unedited. Anyone who has taught here can confirm that this quality writing from a Form A is stunning. As for the content, maybe she's just been so indoctrinated at this point that she's merely regurgitating what she knows I expect. But I'm gonna choose to buy its sincerity.

Boyfriends I want to be with at one time

I don't want to have any boyfriend because when I have a boyfriend my mind will go crazy and I dont want to be craze. I like when my mind is still, not thinking too much. And when they are many I will be mad and when I have to choose for one I will go crazy and I'll not know who to choose and who to loose because I've loved them in the first place.

I'll rather stay a virgin than to have a boyfried or rather be an L.S.B.L [note: I learned today that this means lesbian]. I'll go crazy expecially when they are many. Because when I have them its easier for me to get HIV/Aids because guys don't care. Then when I have one Ill get the baby, and I hate babies, it's like I wasn't a baby.

And I dont like to be known all over because if everyone knows me with bad things like having lot of boyfriends that is not good. And guys bites they will just tell you that they love you but they don't love you they just want to have sex with you and then walk away I don't like that and I dont want to be a part of it.

But lot of girls like that and thats why they have HIV/Aids and lot of them died just because of they din't care about their lifes.

Thank God I am not a guy, and I am not that girl who loves boys too much.

I'm racking my brain, trying to think if I've ever had a better day at school here. It's tough to think of anything... at worst, I could count those days on one hand. Today was great. I'll explain.

The day started off well when I overslept but still got to school on time thanks to some leftover dinner that served admirably as an instant breakfast (usually I make this weird hot cereal thing called Morvite which takes more time). I got to school in time for morning assembly, after which a student of mine, Tlalane, approached me.

[Some back story before I can continue. I've recently been able to obtain scholarships for nine of my brightest students at school through the Lesotho RPCV community. Tlalane is one of the nine. She's new to the school, she's in Form D at only 16 years old which is on the young side. I came to be close with her early in the year, after realizing she was smart but that she had fallen in with slacker-ish students. I could tell it was affecting her work in Maths and Biology, so I challenged her to do better. She responded full force, becoming one of the top students in the class. She also began seeking me out to chat on a daily basis. I soon found out that she had a little baby. I decided she ought to be a scholarship recipient, because a little extra cash would surely go a long way for a 16 year old mother. I submitted the scholarship money to the school yesterday, and told all the recipients they should write letters of thanks to the donors ASAP.]

Tlalane said to me, almost in a whisper, "Sir, I'm sorry that I have not yet finished the thank you note for those people." This was no problem, though, because no one else had either. Then she added, "But this one is for you," and she handed me a folded piece of paper. It was profoundly gratifying. I won't write the whole thing, but here are some excerpts...

"It has been a while not knowing what to say. I am extremely delighted to write this letter to you, Sir."

"My family and I was over the moon when I told them that the scholarship you promised before was approved. First of all I thank you for showing your hardworking job as a volunteer teacher at this school keep it up! :)"

"I did not write the exams of June very well because my mom was very ill at that time, so we did not sleep at night..."

"My dream is to go far away with Biology because that's my favourite."

Such acknowledgments are few and far between for PCVs, and as such they carry a lot of weight. So the day was off to an excellent start.

In Biology class, I moved speedily through a short lesson, then gathered everyone around to watch a movie. I always loved movies in class when I was a student. But it's even better here, because honestly, I believe this is the second time it's happened in my students' lives. We just got electricity at school, meaning I can bring my computer to class. I've been teaching all about plants, so we watched the episode of Life about plants. It's incredible, and they loved it as much as I did. Fun, and educational!

As I left class, some boys followed me out to tell me how much they enjoyed the show...

[More back story: Yesterday when I was out running after work, I ran past a student of mine, Tsepo, who was also running (this was a first, Basotho don't often run for exercise). We chatted for a while, and I noticed he was wearing tons of sweaters, coated by a rain coat and rain pants. I asked why he was wearing them, and he told me he wanted to be thin. Extremely unusual, and also, not healthy. I told him we should talk tomorrow, ie today.]

...one of them was Tsepo. We began talking about why running in a coating of plastic is unhealthy. This led to a very enjoyable conversation about how to eat and exercise to be healthy and (hopefully) also look good. I demonstrated lemon squeezes on the dirty ground, which drew laughter from female passersby. But the boys were eager to brush off my backside for me. It's a testament to how long I've lived here that I didn't find it unsettling.

Later on, my principal pulled me into his office. I was unsure what it was about, but he just wanted to take a moment to thank me for getting those scholarships. Odd. Those who've spoken to me know have surely heard about the sort of person he is, and how uncommon it is for a teacher at his school to be treated with dignity. But alas, he liked that I brought in nearly $1000, and I appreciated the gesture.

And finally, maybe the best thing that happened today. Actually it warrants its own post, so I'll do that.

Before my last post (for which I must apologize on account of its mopey-ness), I actually took a pretty incredible vacation. My friend Rory and I went to Johannesburg, where we ate tons of great food, tempted fate in the taxi rank (not as frightening as people wanted us to believe), and I took the GREs. We took an overnight bus to Maputo, the capital of Mozambique (it's written "Moçambique" there, and as this is my first opportunity ever to use ç, I don't want to pass it up, hence the blog title).

For anyone who ever wanted to see Africa, I strongly recommend Mozambique. It is an amazing place. A very interesting blend of traditional African culture and European influence (which is not unique at all, most countries were colonized by this or that European power. Portugal, in this case). Great music, interesting architecture, awesome food, beautiful beaches, vibrant atmosphere. One of the more stable and faster developing places in Sub-Saharan Africa, too.

We spent our time in Maputo meeting locals and other travelers, and indulging in local food and beverage (highlights - fresh fish and seafood, avocado the size of a child's head, fresh loaves of Portuguese bread for $0.15, and high quality dark beer on tap at an outdoor market for $0.90). Mostly, we were just idling around, waiting for our other PC Lesotho friends to arrive, which they did after 2 days. From that point on, our travels around Maputo and Tofo have already been expertly chronicled by another Lesotho PCV and fellow traveler, Shanthi. I invite you to read all about it and enjoy some pretty pictures here. Sorry not to be writing it for myself, I guess I'm a bit lazy. Thanks Shanthi!

Today is the 2nd day of classes for the 2nd semester. Yesterday, I returned last semester's exams to my students. Nearly every one failed, both in Form A (8th grade, ages 12-18) and Form D (11th grade, ages 16-23) Maths. In Form D, the class erupted in laughter when they looked at their scores (the average was about 25%). I admonished them for laughing at their own failure. They held it together after that, though I think more to make me feel better than anything else. After I returned their papers, they spent class working on corrections under my supervision. Their homework was to finish their corrections at home, so that they could submit them to me today. (Today, I returned part 2 of their exams, and the uproarious laughter resumed).

In Lesotho, you submit assignments by turning them over to your class monitor, who brings them to the staff room. I told all 3 classes today to submit their work at break time. Pretty routine. Everyone understood. But... I received 0 papers. From THREE classes, ZERO students turned in their assignments. Perhaps the saddest part is that this is so common that I wasn't even surprised.

A short while after, I got into a discussion with other teachers about what a sad state of affairs this is. We all agreed that the students' only motivation is the fear of punishment, and that since I don't beat them, they don't make the effort (All other teachers beat students, and indeed, they do get better homework completion, though not by much). We commiserated about the frustration of watching our students laugh at their own failure. They claim that when they were students, it wasn't like this. I told them that if 11th graders' only motivation to work is to spare themselves punishment, then they're beyond my ability to help. Bear in mind, I'm not just talking about the troublesome students, or the slow students. I'm talking about 3 entire classrooms of adolescents and adults. Strong students, weak ones, well behaved ones, and troublesome ones. I've spent 1.5 years doing everything in my power to motivate these kids. The amount I have to show for it is, to be honest, embarrassing.

Next time in Why Lesotho Schools Are Depressing: Harassment, Corruption, and Transactional Pedophilia.

Do you like racking up good karma? Do you like supporting orphan children? Do you like the Baltimore Orioles? If you said yes to any of these, then perhaps you'd like to help me with a very small project.

A while back, I wrote the Baltimore Orioles PR office. I told them about my life here, and about all the poor orphans in my village who don't have proper clothes to wear. I asked if they had any old merchandise they'd like to send, and they sent me a huge box. Imagine how cool it would be to see all the kids in my village running around in Nick Markakis jersey-tees. Problem is, the post office messed up and delivered it to the wrong place. Long story, but in the end, it ended up in the possession of my brother in Washington DC. The Orioles have lost interest in re-shipping, but I would still really like to get it here.

So, I'm asking if anyone would like to donate a small amount of money - $3, $10, $20 - to help ship it here. I will organize an event to distribute the stuff. I'll take pictures and post on the blog. I don't know the exact cost for shipping but it's probably something like $60.

Email me or write on the comments section if you can help, and we'll discuss the logistics. Thanks!

So other than those last 4 stories/news items, it's been since January that I've really updated on my life here in Lesotho. Obviously that means there's a lot to catch up on. Lots of good days, lots of bad days. Lots of crazy times in the village. Lots of unexpected encounters while hitchhiking. Lots of kids doing silly things. Lots of training for the half marathon. And lots of... witches?

Well, that's what they say, at least. We here at Thuto-Ke-Leseli High School are battling a witch epidemic. It's been going on since the first week of school back in January. Witches only attack girls.

On the 2nd or 3rd day of school, we had a sort of opening mass to christen the new school year. There, a sweet young orphan girl from my village named Mamotseare gave a long speech. She was re-taking Form A after failing last year. She spoke about why she had failed. Sounds like it should be inspiring, right? Well, turns out she had become possessed by witches during finals. Her soul was taken captive and brought to a cave, where she was beaten and fed pig food for a month or so. Her body continued to persist as usual, so she was able to take her exams, but this caused her to fail. But as of the time of her speech, her soul had returned and she was ready to take on Form A again.

Naturally, I was not convinced.

A few days later, I entered the staff room to see a new student screaming and writhing on the ground. As she shouted things I did not understand, teachers and students stood around her, trying to hold her steady and calm her down. I watched on in bewilderment as they yelled alternately in English and Sesotho, things like "Out, in the name of Jesus!" and "Fire and the holy spirit!" This went on about 30 minutes until the girl regained full consciousness. She described, once again, caves and pig food. She returned to class, but came back a few hours later with the same problem. This time, I helped steady her head so she wouldn't slam it against the tile floor as she convulsed. Despite my obvious skepticism, it was disturbing. I can now say I've taken part in an exorcism.

Over the next few weeks, the same thing happened to a few other girls. Being possessed seems to manifest in slightly different ways each time - sometimes screaming and pain, sometimes loss of coordination, other times a state resembling a coma. But there are always caves, and always pig food.

One morning we called in a local pastor to help us fight the witches. He gave a sermon that (judging by students' reactions) was very compelling. It culminated in him putting his hand on each student's forehead as a kind of cleansing. Sometimes he would "see" something in a student's eyes. He would focus more on that student. The student would promptly collapse. There were, at one point, 6 students laying on the foyer of our staff building, shouting/twitching/falling over, with the rest of the student body watching in horror. They were some of my favorite kids - I was especially shocked to see it happen to Thato, one of the brightest, happiest girls I know.

Another student, a very nice quiet girl, was one day accused of being one of the witches behind all this. No word on any evidence behind the accusation, but nevertheless, she was taken to jail. Jail! Then she was released, and she returned to school. Teachers considered her to be in danger of violence, as our village blamed her for all the witchcraft. I'm not sure what happened since then, but she stopped coming to school.

These days, the problem has not gone away. One of my students, Mamoliehi, experiences a sort of coma every week or two. She just goes unconscious in the middle of class. She then gets carried to our staff room where she sits for a few hours, her eyes very slightly open. She does not respond to any stimuli whatsoever (even when I squeeze her pinky nail as a test for pain response). After a while, people come in and pray for her, then she wakes up. It's almost a routine.

So, what to make of all this? EVERYONE at school believes it's real witches. People disregard my Western ideas. Lately I've been pushing for Mamoliehi to go to a hospital, but no one cares. I can't get myself to believe there's any truth to the witchcraft. But it's not so easy to just dismiss it, either. I know it's easy to shrug off when you hear stories like this. But believe me when I say, it's totally different to watch students I care about suffer from it (and they really are suffering). Still, in the end, I don't buy it. In America, we stopped believing this stuff 200+ years ago. And above all, I'm a scientist.

I'm leaning towards a theory along the lines of: These girls are paranoid schizophrenic, and their paranoid delusions take the shape that their society tells them it should. The more people around them tell them they are possessed by witches, the more they believe it and act it out. But then, is it really possible for such delusions to manifest so physically and so violently? (Maybe.) And also, is it really plausible for this to happen to so many girls? What percent of people experience this kind of paranoia in their lifetime? My school is small, and I'm talking now about ~5-10% of our female students over a 4 month period. I welcome any ideas from people reading this. Are there certain triggers for a psychosocial epidemic of this nature? Are there precedents elsewhere?

At the very least, this whole experience has gotten me interested in the neurology behind religious/spiritual experiences. I'm reading some books now. I'll update if they help me reach any new theories.

Here are some random but noteworthy events that have taken place in 2011 (can't believe I'm so backed up here...):

1. Sometime mid-January, I was walking to my school with friends. As we reached the mountaintop, clouds suddenly turned dark and it started to rain. In an instant, I heard the loudest sound/saw the brightest light I've ever seen. Though, I didn't process it right away. The first thing I noticed, before registering the sound or light, was that I was on my hands and knees. Turns out, lightning had struck a few yards away, and the force had thrown me to the ground. We ran into the nearest building, and after collecting ourselves, realized we were totally fine. Lesson learned: Don't walk on the summit of a mountain in a storm.

Then, one night a week later, I was sitting in my house watching Lost on my computer (watching entire TV series that you missed while in America, on your laptop alone in the dark, is a favorite PCV pasttime). The computer battery was running low so I plugged into my solar panel (which sits on my roof) through a car battery (which sits in my house). As I continued watching, it started to rain, which was so noisy on my tin roof that I couldn't hear the show. I plugged in headphones. The second I touched the headphones to my ears, I am not exactly sure but I think lightning struck my roof. It was very loud. And I think the electric current flowed through the panel, through the car battery, through the computer, and out the headphones, because a massive spark flew out from my ear, big enough that I could see it with my peripheral vision. My heart pounded and my head ached for about 30 minutes. My nerves were all the more racked after the events of the week before.

I'll confess I've been a little scared of lightning since that day. But I don't totally understand how this is possible, because I think if it really happened this way, my computer should have been fried (it's not) and/or I should be dead (I'm not). I welcome any phsyics/electrical engineering/meteorology experts who can make sense of it. Lesson learned: don't plug your head into your tin roof during a storm.

2. My mother's friend/neighbor, Ellen, donated enough money to sponsor a bunch of my best and most needy students! So far, the money has been used to keep 6 of my brightest students in school. There is enough still for a few more. Thank you, Ellen! Their thank you letters are on the way to Baltimore.

3. One day I gave a maths test in Form A (8th grade) which ended early. I gave kids the option to pass the extra time by telling them to "Write a funny story." Here's a very revealing but seriously disturbing one from a young boy named Moteri:

"Funny Story

Now we are happy because we have parents. My parents buy me anything that I like and the love me and also I love them because is my parents. All day they meet me also I meet because is my parents they shy me whe a make noti in somewhere.

My parents die because they burn at night and a cry for them because the died now we are lonnly We are funny."

On a lighter note, here's another one from a very smart young girl named Mokhantso:

"A man without senses

there was a man without head some boy dicided to found his head they touch him under the armpits they heard his head laughing under the rock and he was been stuck by a rock and run away them left his head!!!!"

4. My mom visited in April! She loved Lesotho, and Lesotho loved her. We had a great time touring the country, and especially visiting my school. There she received a very warm welcome from my coworkers and especially my students. They were in awe. Makhooa have parents, too. Thanks, mom!

We also went to Cape Town, which is a truly amazing city. Even better than advertised. Aside from a lot of really good quality mother-son bonding (aw), the highlight was probably my successful running of the Two Oceans Half Marathon. I finished in around 2:10 (the website says 2:15 but it lies!). Considering I never ran much before, it felt pretty good. And I was stunned to find that the race itself was actually a blast.

OK, more soon! Actually, I already wrote what will become the next post. I'll post it separately so it looks like I'm working harder (JM I hope you're happy :D).

Fine and you? [still my favorite Basotho English form of greeting]

So, I'm still alive and well. For those who have yelled at me for not writing on here in so long, I am sorry. I've been bad, I guess. It's been over 3 months since I hurriedly threw on a text-less post full of safari pictures (and just as long since I promised to hurry back with descriptions of those pictures). But I have some reasons, whose validity you can decide for yourself. In short, they are three-fold:

1. My daily life here hasn't been as jolly as it once was. I'm not suffering, per se, but it's just not so exciting. So I'm less motivated to come on here and tell the world about things like my sense of stagnation, my growing distaste for various aspects of work, and so on.

2. The honeymoon phase seems to be gone. In the beginning, no one (myself included) had much idea what my life here would be all about. But now, if you've been reading this blog at all since it started, you have a decent idea. So I'm sometimes reluctant to keep up writing. It sometimes feels like all I'd be saying is "Hey, look at me! My life is so different! Look at how different it is here!" But most people reading this already know that, so it has come to feel kind of self-indulgent to an unnecessary degree. Maybe that's all in my head, though, I'm not sure.

3. Many of the things I would like to write about would not win me many friends in the Basotho community. And as we all know, if you don't have anything nice to say...

But then, to be honest, that's an exaggeration. It's not that I have nothing nice to say. Far from it, actually.

So what prompted me to get back on the horse? A package I received recently from someone I've never met. A former Lesotho PCV named Becca sent me a package full of delicious foods, plus a very nice postcard. It mentioned that she enjoys reading my blog and encouraged me to keep on fighting the good fight. All in all, an extremely extremely nice, memorable gesture. Thank you, Becca. Your kindness will not be forgotten (and neither will be your exquisite Kraft Mac N Cheese).

I received the package in the middle of a Wednesday afternoon, right after finishing a pretty irritating maths class. It immediately went from a bad day to a good day. And as I sat at my desk in the staff room devouring an entire bag of beef jerky in about 30 minutes, I contemplated what the package and the letter signified. I realized that this blog is perhaps more valuable than I can see. Which suggests that I ought to keep it up. So alas, here I am, ke teng.

With all that said, I have a lot of catching up to do.

But it will have to wait a little bit, because on Friday, my mom arrives to Lesotho. This is extremely exciting. We'll tour around a bit, and next week we'll fly to Cape Town so that she can see an incredible city and I can eat a lot and take decent showers for a few days. Also I'll run a half marathon on April 23rd.

So, provided the malaise doesn't hit me too hard, I'll be back soon.

Sharp!

just finished our safari. in short it's been amazing. we have free internet for about an hour more so i'm gonna upload as many of our best pics/videos as possible. time is short, hence the lack of capitalization, among other things. i'll come back on later to edit this post and make it a bit more proper.

For a while now, I've debated whether to come clean on this blog about my deep love of hitchhiking in Lesotho. For one thing, I wouldn't want to alarm people [too much]. But more importantly, I've been worried that Peace Corps might get angry at me for confessing.

You see, for a while now, I've been under the impression that hitching is frowned upon by PC Lesotho. We definitely have a rule about riding in backs of open-bed trucks - if you do that, you will be on a plane back home pretty quickly. And no driving either. No problem there, I do neither of those things. But I THOUGHT it was best if at least I don't go out of my way to discuss the fact that I hitch.

Anyways, I recently picked up the PC Lesotho Handbook to see what it says on the matter. Here it is:

---------

Hitchhiking

Catching a ride in a safe vehicle with a person known to a Volunteer may be a good option for transportation. In Lesotho, Volunteers are highly discouraged from standing along the side of a road attempting to hitch a ride with a person unknown to them. However, we understand that in certain circumstances, Volunteers might judge a private ride to be safer than a kombi. If you decide to hitchhike:

- Never take a ride alone. Always ride in a group of two, or preferably more.

- Never take a ride if the driver or other passengers are drunk or drinking alcohol in the vehicle

- Private vehicles such as cars or SUVs are preferable to larger commercial vehicles

- Always ensure that the vehicle is in good condition (e.g., tires in good condition, no major body damage, no loud noises, no giant clouds of black smoke, etc.)

----------

So, OK, it's "highly discouraged," except for when it's safer. But, within the context of those four bullet points (all of which I support)... I claim it is ALWAYS safer. Seriously.

Quite honestly, taxis/kombis are the unsafe mode of transport. These are 15 person vans, often packed with over 20 people (I've seen 26 once). Here is a picture of a kombi in unusually good condition.

Often times you are traveling on a route where there's only one kombi coming every hour or more. If you don't hitch, you take what you get. Sometimes this includes kombis that are barely functioning, kombis that are packed with sick people, drivers who are too young to have a license (but don't tell you), or drivers who are horribly reckless. Once two kombi drivers were so adamant that I should choose their kombi over a competitor that they assaulted me (I got away unscatched, thankfully). My friend had a screwdriver pulled on him in a similar situation. Fortunately, at this point we are all wise enough that, for the most part, we can spot a sketchy situation and find something better.

Not so ironically, yesterday I hitched with a guy who was returning from up north. There, he had been visiting a friend who had just been victim of a kombi that, when full of passengers, flipped over 4 times. She was badly injured, and a baby in the kombi was killed.

Now compare that to getting a hitch. While I can't prove that nothing unsafe ever happens in a hitch, I can definitely say that I've never heard of any PCV having a bad experience. People who own cars are almost always in the upper class of Lesotho. This means they are less desperate. It means they want less from you than, say, the drunk taxi conductor who tried to buy my female friend from me for 5 cows (a bad price, I'm told), or the abrasive woman who demanded that I give her money, then candy, then a job. Plus there are seat belts.

And there are many other advantages beyond the safety.

1. It's cheaper. Occasionally a driver will ask for a few rand, but generally it's a nice perk to save some money.

2. It's faster. Kombis make tons of stops and break down quite often. Private vehicles don't really.

3. It's more comfortable. People won't angrily slam your window shut when you open it. You won't sit cramped between 3 obese women and their babies on a bench made for 3. There's no oppressively loud music.

4. The Restoration Theory. A friend of mine brought this up a while ago. When she said it, I immediately realized that I felt this way all along, only I never knew I felt it until she articulated it. The idea is that, as PCVs, we are always giving, and whenever we stop to take a breath, someone is there asking us to give more. Granted we came here expecting as much, but still it can be draining. So, getting a hitch helps to restore a sense of balance in our minds. It is genuinely fulfilling to be reminded that, as much as it feels like we are here to give endlessly to Basotho who were so recently strangers, there are Basotho who are willing to give something to us, even though we are total strangers to them.

5. It's fun! Among other reasons, I came to Peace Corps to meet new, interesting people, and to try to understand their lives. There is no better venue for a short interview with a total stranger than in a hitch. It's a captive audience, and usually they picked you up in the first place because they're excited to talk to someone different. Some of the interesting people I've hitched with:

Members of ParliamentA guy who owns a construction company in the capital of Botswana (who drove a $70000 car)The director of Lesotho's Outward Bound programA former soldier/former racecar driver (that is one person)A Phys-Ed teacher (probably the only one in this country, actually) who went to college in CubaThe director of the local funeral homeAn Indian Muslim shopowner, who told me a story about traveling to NYC 2 months after 9/11, and being arbitrarily thrown in jail for 2 months before being let go. He holds no ill will against America though, and he picked my friend and I up assuming we were American, but knowing we were in no way responsible for his imprisonment. He gave us his number in case we ever need a ride again. A gay police officer (gay in Lesotho is rare)And I'm sure I'm forgetting others. But mostly it tends just to be middle aged men, who are reasonably successful (enough to own a car and speak good English), who are married and have young children. These guys are always great to talk to, which leads to my final point...

6. Goal 2. Peace Corps is structured around 3 core goals:

"1. Helping the people of interested counties in meeting their need for trained men and women.

2. Helping to promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the peoples served.

3. Helping to promote a better understanding of other peoples on the part of Americans."

I could write a ton about hitchhiking and goal 2, but I'll just say that some of the absolute best, most meaningful conversations I've had with Basotho have been while hitchhiking.

So, there you have it, my treatise on the merits of hitchhiking in Lesotho. Everyone back home, I miss you and hope you are well.

This week schools are on break. For PC Volunteers, who aren't technically allowed to leave their site for very long without either getting approved for some kind of work or burning precious vacation days, this forces the question of how one will spend their week.

For me, I spent the early part of the week bumbling around doing whatever I could find, but when Friday rolled around, bigger things happened.

A little background: when you drive around Lesotho, there are mountains every step of the way, and you often see writing on the mountainsides. People arrange white-painted rocks to write out things like "blah blah Barracks" or "blah blah High School." I've always found this pretty cool. So one day a few months back, it dawned on me that we should use this medium to make something like a PSA. I happen to live right by a perfect mountain right along the country's main highway, giving me a great opportunity to make such a "sign."

I decided to write "One Love Feela" with HIV ribbons. "One Love" is a big campaign in Lesotho that preaches monogamy and respect for your partner (multiple concurrent partners, or MCPs, are a huge contributing factor to the spread of HIV here). The "Feela" part is Sesotho, it kind of turns it into "Just One Love," though it sounds less weird in Sesotho than in English. At school, I teach my students "One Love Feela" as often as possible.

So I spent some time over the last few months planning and organizing to make this happen. This included finding a way to get funding for paint, getting approval from the local chief, meeting with the community at the foot of the mountain, coordinating with Phela (the organization that runs the One Love campaign, who were very excited to help), struggling to write letters in Sesotho, and so on. We finally set a date to do the project this past Friday. With schools on break, other PCVs could come help.

So five of my good friends came to my house the night before, and at 7am Friday morning, we climbed up the mountain and got to work. Two Basotho came too. We quickly discovered that the job was far too big for 8 of us, though, and we began hoping that more would come. We changed the plan to a simpler sign with larger letters, so that we would only write "One Love" with one ribbon. Then, over time, many more Basotho showed up - people from Phela, from Peace Corps staff, teachers and students from my school, and a number of villagers. Things took off, and from that point things went really well.

There were a few downsides. It turns out the red AIDS ribbon and the blue paint we used to write the word "One" (to be consistent with the campaign's logo) are less visible than white. Also the natural curves of the mountain obscure small pieces of the writing.

But overall it came out great. The response from the community and from Phela were excellent, and we had a lot of fun. And, no one broke any ankles on the mountain, which is slightly surprising. Following the event, my friends and I cooled off at my house for a while before spending the night braai-ing (aka barbecuing) singing and dancing in the late afternoon/evening.

When I wrote about building keyhole gardens at my friend Rory's place back in July/August, I mentioned how satisfying it was to spend time with volunteers both blowing off steam AND doing meaningful work. For me, this event embodied that idea to the fullest. Definitely a highlight of my service so far. And, I'm happy to now have a lasting piece of work to which I can stake my name and my service.

Well anyway, without further ado, here are lots of pictures from Friday.

View of the road and beyond, from the mountain, early in the morning.

Adam and I painting the ribbon (which turned out to be hardly visible... oh well).

Loads of people milling around working on various parts of the sign.

It's big.

As the work wound down, guys from the village took some extra paint and proudly wrote the village name on a huge boulder (note - the kid in the front in the yellow sweatshirt is Thabang, one of my favorite Form A students).

Rory, Thabeleng (a 7th grader at my school... seriously!), Nathan, and Dustin taking a breather after a few hours launching rocks down to us from the top of the mountain (seriously, amazing that there were no injuries).

Stopping for a minute to chat with Nthabiseng, a teacher from my school and my closest friend in my village. She helped a ton with the project.

Everyone celebrating the sign (and above all, hoping it will look good when we get down the mountain). At this point, all the Basotho in this photo have been shouting "One Love" down toward the village, to anyone listening, for hours. They're pretty amped up about it all.

Behold! Honestly this isn't the best picture... maybe I'll wander back and try to take a better one.

Relaxing at the braai - Nthabiseng, Bedtime Bear, Ntate Motlohi (another teacher), and Nathan.

Working the grill...

Rory, Dustin, Bedtime Bear.

Dustin, Shanthi, Rory. We returned to my house due to neighbors sleeping within earshot of the braai.

Oh, one final comment. There is a South African food called Braai Rolls that really should exist in America. They are just bread rolls stuffed with either garlic butter or herb butter that you cook on the grill. They are outstanding. So, to my friends at Tickled Pig BBQ - I know you don't win friends with salad, or even with bread usually, but I formally challenge you to come up with some American version of Braai Rolls.

Dear Mike,

Heyyyyyy brother. Did you even know you were my abuti? Well, abuti means older brother, so you are. This post is for you.

Love,

Your baby brother (there's no word for that)

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Alright so, here's why this entry is for Mike. Shortly after my last post, we had a conversation on the phone. In discussing all the random stories I had just written about, he suggested that I keep a better record of the weird-and-random-yet-revealing stories that I live each day. He loves the weirdness, and I love the weirdness. I told him I'd try. And so, the following Monday at school, when that day's weirdness unfolded, I whipped out some scratch paper and wrote it down. Then I added to it Tuesday. And Wednesday. And almost every day since.

Now, there is one other element to this story that makes me happy. The night before I left Baltimore to join Peace Corps, we went out for a celebratory dinner. It was Mike, my future sister-in-law Becca, my mom, and I (it was a combination Eric's birthday/Eric's moving to Africa for 2 years tomorrow/Mike and Becca just got engaged dinner, so suffice it to say, we went all out, it was outstanding, and I've eaten nothing nearly as good since that night.) At dinner, Mike and Becca gave me a really great journal to take to Africa (black with gold-trimmed pages and a sewn-in bookmark, the whole 9 yards).

I was excited about it, but regrettably, I haven't used it all that much. I never really kept a journal at home, and I already keep up this blog here in Lesotho, so I just haven't quite pulled it together to write as much as they and I hoped. But... now I have the perfect use for it. So, thanks Mike for providing me with the inspiration to keep what will henceforth be called the Annals Of Weirdness (AOW), and thanks Mike and Becca for the means to do so in a highly tasteful way. Here's to hoping the weird never stops.

Below are the first few entries from the AOW. Looking over them, I'm surprised by what a good picture they paint of what much of my life here is like.

Disclaimer: The AOW is an expression of what is weird based solely on my own standards. Or, more accurately, what I remember my standards to have been before coming here. It is therefore highly subjective. If anyone reading excerpts from the AOW finds these things to be un-weird, you are invited to yell about it in the comments section.

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Monday, 20 Sept 2010

- Tsemase [a student] being punished with squats. Refuses due to leg injury. Alternative (my suggestion) is rolling around on dusty floor. Refuses that too, instead choosing 5 lashes with PVC pipe on the ass. After it's over I am cringing, and I ask if that was better than rolling on floor. He says yes.

Tuesday, 21 Sept 2010

- A major breakthrough - we begin scheduling meetings in advance, to hold them during break to reduce cancellation of class [I've been suggesting to my principal that we try not to cancel class for impromptu meetings quite so often]. But the meeting is to arrange a film show to raise funds, and in the end we cancel 3 classes for the film show. 1 step forward, 2 steps back...

Wednesday, 22 Sept 2010

- Decision to arrange "Fun Day" this coming Friday to raise funds. Students can wear "funny clothes" to school, but they must pay R1.00. Alternatively, they can choose to wear their uniform as usual, but they must pay... R1. If a student simply can't afford it, their best recourse is to skip school.

- The village drunk aggressively stops me as I'm walking at dusk, to introduce me to Bokang, the local shop owner, who is one of my closest friends in the village. He says that Bokang is his best friend, except that he can't even tell me Bokang's name.

Thursday, 23 Sept 2010

- At 6:45am, I'm walking to school with a student and the same village drunk screams to me from far away, "I am from Switzerland!!" I tell the student that this is why you shouldn't drink alcohol.

Friday, 24 Sept 2010

- "Fun Day" is a Halloween day basically. There are cross-dressers, wigs, bizarre masks. But about 25-30% of students seem to have skipped school. Principal gets up at assembly and makes a powerful speech about time running out before exams, but is wearing a plastic clown mask the whole time. After assembly we are all so entertained that no one bothers to have classes.

Monday, 27 Sept 2010

- Going on a run down the road, nearing the end and feeling tired. A group of barefoot orphan girls between Standard 1 and Standard 5 [1st-5th grade] start jumping up and down as they see me approaching (I've met 1 of them before). As I pass they start running with me. I try to run fast uphill, just to see if I can outlast them. I cannot. They are grinning and laughing the entire time (about 3 minutes).

Tuesday, 28 Sept 2010

- One of my favorite students, Palesa, is about to write an English test that I'm helping to invigilate [ie catch cheaters], but she has her head on the desk and she is crying. I take her outside to talk and she tells me she has such horrible pain in the bones of both arms that she cannot hold a pencil. She says it has happened in the past. I suggest that she goes to the doctor, but she says her mother does not have the R15 [$2] to pay. I tell her I'm sorry, and to go to get some medicine. I'm pretty certain I'll give her R15 tomorrow.

- Went running, same route and time as yesterday. Instead of 3 girls following me like yesterday, it is now 6. They are really impressive, and though it's a bit embarrassing running past my students with 6 small girls following, they are adorable and it's kinda fun. They run all the way to my house and I invite them inside for a glass of water.

In the interest of moving forward following all that happened 2 weeks ago, I will bump that last post one notch farther down. To replace it, here are a couple of highly random events that I witnessed/took part in this week. I've said this before, but once again, such things almost become ordinary events precisely because of how far out of the ordinary they are. I know I forget many would-be great stories for this blog, because I sometimes fail to recognize even as noteworthy what only a few months ago seemed so remarkable. Things just seem to go that way - random is the norm. At least I remembered a few here.

1. Wednesday - My boss tells me he'd like to petition the local construction company to help out with some small projects at our school (nice idea). He claims they'll do it for free out of moral obligation. He asks me if I could come with him to their offices. He explains that my being white will give us an advantage, will get us more credibility and people will take our requests seriously. I feel terrible hearing this, though really it sounds farfetched. I go anyway. I plan to convey strength - I will stand, arms folded and flexing, as my boss lists our demands. But when we meet with the higher-ups at the office - some white South Africans - my boss immediately defers to me to speak. I hardly even know what we are asking for, but nevertheless I clumsily attempt to ask for vague construction jobs to be done for free. I wait for my boss to bail me out, but he goes silent. The Afrikaaners look right through him, only acknowledging me. They couldn't care less about my boss, despite him being older and more knowledgable on the subject. I feel awkward being something like the beneficiary of such blatant racism, but, its all for my school, so I go along.

In any case, the relevant decision maker was not there so we were told to come back the next morning, which leads to...

2. Thursday - The short story is, I kidnap a girl while sporting a goatee. But if you're curious here's the more complete version. My boss says he'll pick me up at 6am to go back to the construction company. By 6:30, I haven't heard from him, so I decide I better just start getting ready for school (this is a mistake, I should have learned Africa Time by now). I start to shave. My left cheek is half shaven when my boss calls - he's outside waiting. I sculpt the fastest thing I can that leaves me looking non-crazy, which happens to be this truly hideous goatee. We have some luck at the construction company, with the result of a representative coming with us to see the school. So now I am headed to school with my ugly facial art.

We do our business at school, then drive to drop the representative back off. On the way, a young primary school girl is very late walking to her own school (which is about 2.5 miles away). My boss points this out and I convince him to give her a ride, since we'll be passing her school (this is pretty common practice). We're driving a converted flatbed truck with a front cabin that's more or less sound-proofed from the rear. The girl sits down in the rear. We then forget about her. We pass her school, pass that village, and reach the construction office. Only when we're all getting out of the car, the girl knocks on the window and yells, "Sir!" We all look at one another in shock - she is now nowhere near her school. But my boss wants to carry on, and have one more meeting before we go. So the girl just sits locked in the back of the truck. Remember, I still have a goatee. When we finally get going, my boss lectures the young girl for not alerting us when we passed her school the first time. This all comes to a merciful end as she gets out, and I head home to shave more completely before finally going to teach at 11am.

Friday - [WARNING - GROSS AND SADISTIC] A cow is being slaughtered to prepare for a funeral tomorrow (Quick tangent - 3 weeks ago a girl from our primary school was hit by a car - horrible story. From a selfish standpoint, I feel fortunate in that I didn't know her, but it's still really tragic). We're at the family's home saying some prayers, and that's where the cow is being killed. It falls down after being jabbed in the base of the neck. As it lays dying, it's tail is chopped off. Men then pick up the tail... to use it as a whip, to beat the dying cow. I feel sad for the girl's death, and now sad for the cow. Then I ponder whether a cow (any cow, let alone a dying cow) can perceive the irony of being beat with it's own severed tail. I sigh, and watch the men skin the cow for a few minutes. Finally, I head home.

By now many of you have heard of the tragic events which occurred here the night of Friday, September 3rd. Tom Maresco, a fellow Peace Corps Volunteer here in Lesotho, was shot and killed in an apparent robbery attempt, one block from our training center in the capital city, Maseru.

At this time we have been asked not to discuss details of the case, as the investigation is ongoing. But you can read Peace Corps' press release here, and you can find other related stories via Google. But, while I can't get into specifics of what transpired on Friday night, I can try to shed some light on what an outstanding person Tom was.

Tom and I came into Lesotho together 10 months ago - he was one of the 29 members of the "ED10" class of PCVs, as we're called. On the night we met in Philadelphia, he rallied as many of us as possible to stay out late into the night, enjoying our last taste of quality beer. And so it was immediately obvious that Tom was a natural leader, with the charisma to become the focal point of any social situation (this was only proven truer over time). Quick tangent: the bar had darts, and as I bragged about my darts prowess and convinced everyone to come play, Tom beat me with ease and with a laugh.

But while my friends and I recognized his charm and energy from the get-go, it was not until later that we came to learn what a truly impressive guy Tom was. As it turned out, he was exceedingly bright. He was a great cook (we never got the chance to compete in the Iron Chef match we talked about, but had it happened, I'd have put my money on him). His ingenuity was unmatched, which I learned as he used the random junk around the training center to build a makeshift obstacle course, kiddie pool, slip and slide, fire pit, and more. He was an outstanding guitarist, harmonica player, singer, and he was hilarious as a freestyle rapper. One highlight from back in training is when we sang together as he played one of my favorite songs, La Cienega Just Smiled (Ryan Adams). He was an excellent teacher, and a passionate volunteer, who loved his service and his life as much as anyone.

So, long story short, I'd be lying if I said I never envied Tom. We once had an obstacle course that 8 guys participated in. Out of 8 guys competing, I finished 7th, Tom 8th. I was relieved not to be last; Tom laughed hysterically (sadly I'm pretty sure he wasn't trying).

I've tried, unsuccessfully, to make some sense of why this happened. I think about bullies, who beat up kids who are prettier than them, or who smile too much - internally weak people who are jealous of the better fortune of others, who try to even the slates by bringing someone else down. I wonder, is this the mentality that leads someone to so coldly murder a well-meaning aid worker? Yes, Tom was dealt a sweet hand in life. But one can only admire a man who so fully embraces his innate gifts and runs with them at full speed. Tom was living his dream, and was touching so many lives in the process. Like all of us, he came here to help and to see the world. But unlike most of us, Tom would likely have bought that guy a drink if he only asked nicely.

This last week has been a whirlwind. I learned the news by a phone call from our country director, which woke me up Saturday morning. I spent three days with the rest of the volunteers, leaning heavily on this family we've become, alternately giving and receiving support. We've all spent these days remembering Tom, laughing, crying, and deeply questioning our service here. From here on out I'll be having a pretty quiet weekend with just a few close friends. I've taken the week off school - many in my village suspect that I'll leave Lesotho after this. But I will stay.

I have also heard Basotho express shame in response to Tom's death. To any Basotho who might read this, please do not feel ashamed, guilt by association does not apply here. To my friends and family, please do not be scared for me. As difficult as it is to say right now, I still love this country, despite its flaws. The actions of one Mosotho man will not change that. Know that I have no intention of traveling at night in the area where this occurred, or really anywhere at all. I feel extremely safe in my village, where I know so many of the people, and where so many look out for me. Most volunteers will say the same.

Most importantly, to friends and family of Tom, I am so sorry for this indescribable loss. I can only say that Tom will live on in our minds. I feel confident speaking for the rest of PC Lesotho when I say that his memory will inspire the rest of our service.

Thank you all for your love and support during this wretched time. We will come through it.

Fine and you? If all goes well, I'll be back next week (or even as soon as tomorrow) with another post, something kinda new and exciting (at least, I hope it excites everyone).

But for now... a couple of random thoughts and anecdotes.

- I think my official favorite misuse of English that I hear all the time is when someone walks up to me and greets me by saying, "Fine and you?"

- A sad, frustrating, revealing story that I've been meaning to tell for a while: At the end of 2nd quarter

back in June, all the teachers compiled the students' grades from semester exams. We average them out, sort them, rank them, and hand write individual reports for each student in the school, with comments from each teacher for each student. This took many hours. This culminated in a day over winter break when parents (or guardians) were told to come and collect reports. Teachers were all on hand to give comments.

Roughly 30% of the students had someone show up. Bummer, right? But wait... turns out, we only give them their kid's report if they're up to date on school fees... which most are not. So the day went something like this. We sit around for a while. Someone shows up asking for a student's report. I find it and take it out. I hold it in my hand for 5 minutes as conversation ensues, in Sesotho. I am told by a teacher that we are not giving the form, please put it back. I put it back. In the end, I think we gave out less than 50 reports (there are over 300 students). That's how few students have both a) someone looking out for them and b) enough money for school fees.

Now, students and parents who are behind on school fees are unable to find out the child's performance, and how they are doing compared to their classmates. I see this as a waste of valuable information that is both wanted by the students and useful as a motivational tool (and motivation is in short supply already). So, I've taken it upon myself to discreetly tell my students about their ranks, and load up the conversation with as much personalized motivation as I can. I hope it's helping.

- On Monday, a group of boys shoved a donkey into their classroom, in the middle of history class. Their parents or guardians were called to the school today, and both parties were spoken to firmly. The boys were subsequently beat with sticks.

- I learned recently that Basotho use the word "crocodile" to mean "prostitute." Here is why. The Lesotho soccer team is called the Crocodiles. And apparently, they are bad, and are beaten by everyone. When you are beaten, the term that is used is the same as saying "you were eaten by" that team. But, there is a lot of redundancy in Sesotho, and apparently "being eaten" is also a term form being... well... there might be kids reading this... let's say for being cuddled. So it's like, the crocodiles were cuddled by everyone they played. So crocodiles are prostitutes.

- Over winter break I spent some time at my friend Rory's village, building keyhole gardens to feed local orphans. Another friend, Shanthi, posted something about it here, with a good photo, and apparently is going to upload more photos soon. It was a great experience. Usually, spending time with other volunteers is more about taking a step back from everything and blowing off steam. But it was wonderful to spend my time with them actually doing productive work.

I had one more thing I wanted to write about, but now I have forgotten it. Darn. Maybe I'll remember by next time. Everyone in America, I love and miss you!

Today was in some ways a fairly typical work day, and in other ways pretty weird. Though, the weirdness is, in itself, pretty typical. So yeah, it was a fairly typical work day. I will recount today's events...

I hit snooze about 3 times and finally got out of bed at about 6:50am. I hurriedly dressed and ate, managing to barely get out on time.

(It was cold this morning, but in recent days the temperature has risen quite a bit from as midday has approached, so I left my house without a coat. Turns out today was an exception, so I was pretty cold all day. When students and teachers asked me throughout the day if I was surviving without a coat, I lied, saying "No, I did not miscalculate, I meant to be dressed like this in this weather." I feel strangely compelled to maintain my "Makhooa don't get cold like Africans" appearance).

Monday is supposed to be my most hectic day - I teach 6 periods. I spent some time lesson planning before heading to Form A Maths, where I began teaching about symmetry. Behavior was the worst it's been this semester. I nearly left the class in anger, but held it together because we are already in such horrible shape (I am guessing I'll finish 60% of the syllabus this year). With 30 minutes left in class, my vice principal knocked on the door to say "Please stop teaching, we're having a staff meeting, it is beginning right away." To much applause, I dropped my lesson and went to the staff room... where I sat for 25 minutes waiting for the meeting to begin. Needless to say, not a great start to the day. Questions of "If the students don't want to learn, and the administration doesn't want me to teach... then why am I even here?" raced through my mind.

We had our meeting. It was a little bit productive.

[A brief background to understand the rest of today: We are hosting a big cultural festival at school on Friday, where our school will compete against 5 other schools in traditional games, dances, and other events. To create time for practice, we have decided to cancel 2 hours of class every day for the last 3 weeks running. Roughly 70% of the students are involved in 0 of the activities, so they spend this time wandering the schoolyard or playing soccer. Such use of time does not lend well to teachers finishing their syllabi.]

Following that meeting, classes were cancelled for the rest of the day to prepare for Friday (for a total of 2 hours of classes today).

With no teaching to do, I went to another meeting with a few teachers and some members of the community. These folks are trying to find ways to help local orphans (awesome), and I was invited to pitch an idea I've been developing. I am hoping to build a playground at school, which will be open to all local children outside of school hours, and will be covered in HIV/Healthy Living information. I am hoping to fund this project with a PEPFAR grant (US government money for HIV/AIDS projects). With my coworker and friend Nthabiseng translating for me, we pitched the idea, and were given a hearty ovation in response, ululations included (traditonal throat howling sound, used when something is really exciting)! People are enthusiastic about helping, which is great.

Following this meeting, I played a little frisbee (thanks everyone back home!) and wandered around the throngs of idle students. Two students handed me bottles of motoho - traditional sour porridge made from sorghum, which (to the shock and awe of my fellow PCVs) I absolutely love. I have a standing offer to them that if they bring me motoho, I will buy them lisweets (candy). I cashed in on this today. I was thrilled to skip Monday lunch - Undercooked White Rice with Gross Sauce - and chug some motoho instead.

In the afternoon, I watched 5 girls practice liketoana, which is a lot like jacks. I'm told we are gearing up to dominate in liketoana. After some time, a Form A student approached me for help with science. This was a rare treat - if only all students had the courage to admit when they need help, Lesotho would be a different place (Note, I'm not sure where the blame goes here. I might also have said, "If only teachers didn't strike such fear in the hearts of students that they are all terrified to seek the help they need and deserve." But I digress.). As students realized I was explaining concepts that they, too, were struggling with, a crowd formed. In the end I think some genuine learning took place.

The schoolday came to an end. I headed home, picking up some veggies along the way. At one shop, I got a chance to snag another Form A student, Zyphiwe (favorite name in my class, really fun to scream in a high pitched voice). I forced her to listen to me as I used the shop's fridge and freezer to explain the concept of melting point. I knew she didn't want to be learning after school, so I apologized - she laughed. But also on the way home, I encountered a particularly troublesome student doing some very loud imitations of me ("Do you think it is funny that you are failing! No one will pay your school fees next year if you fail!" Somehow she thinks this is hilarious, despite it applying to her perfectly). I told her she must now write "I will not make fun of teachers" 100 times before I let her back in my class. A sour end to the day.

So with all said and done, I can sum up today much like I would sum up most days in my American life - some really good things happened, and some really not good things happened ("...but either way, things happened" - thank you DP). And at the end, much like in my American life, I took some time to relax and reflect on it all over some hot, delicious, home-cooked dinner.

Since I've realized I can post video right now, and I happen to have all my videos with me, I didn't want to miss the opportunity to share some kids being silly. I'm digging deep here...

First, we have my brothers and sisters (and 2 neighbors) from when I was living in Maqhaka for CBT back in December. Notice the little guy, Morapeli, chilling in the back, eating a sock.

Next, this is my little buddy Selebalo, who I've talked about before, struggling with another neighbor, Bonolo, who is trying to keep her still.

Ha ha I'm so clever.

OK so, here's what I think. My trek up to Rustenburg for the US-Ghana game was outrageously fun, and despite the tragic ending, I think I couldn't possibly have had a better trip (well, unless we won obviously. At least I like Ghana, though). But, I'm not going to write about it.

Instead, I'm copying the entry from my friend PH's blog, with whom I went to both games. I feel as though his shorter sentences and his selective use of commas really reflect the excitement that surrounded our journeys. That and I'm lazy today. But he really did sum up both World Cup trips well, and touched on a lot of stuff I might have forgotten. Only thing I'd like to mention is, when he writes about chocolate chip muffins, imagine he's saying "bacon cheese muffin," and consider how much I love bacon and cheese.

PH put a link to his picture site, which you can check out. But just in case I ever turn this blog into a book (apparently you can do that), I'll post a few at the bottom here. Maybe it's more convenient for you as well.

So, here goes. Thanks PH!

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Fuuuutbooolllll

So being in Lesotho, I had the opportunity to attend two world cup matches. I have posted pictures on my shutterfly. I once again messed up the address. It is adamlesotho.shutterfly.com. That is the correct address. Please disregard the first two.

The first game we saw was Greece versus Nigeria in Bloemfontein (shortened to Bloom). This is a small city only an hour and a half from the border of Lesotho. We took a bus from the border, but before getting on the bus we had to take a taxi from the boarder to the bus. There happened to be a few cops in a truck present when we crossed the border. They offered to give us a lift to bus! So the pics of me in the back of a police truck were of us getting a ride…I swear I didn’t do anything wrong. My favorite part of the city is the cooling towers of a coal power plant (I think it is no longer operational, but I could be wrong). The cooling towers are painted with designs. They are very pretty. That coupled with my power engineering background makes them special to me.

We arrived in Bloom the day of the game. I think Bloom has a fair amount to do, such as a zoo (but I hate zoos because the animals look really sad), but we didn’t have a lot of time so we went to two malls. Ha. The first mall was called Mimosa mall and OH BOY was it shiny. I am not used to such cleanliness and bright lights. It was a sensory overload. We perused bookstores, clothing stores, and the food court. The highlight of this mall was the muffins. I know this is quite a bold statement, but I will say that the chocolate chip muffin I consumed was the best muffin of my life. It was huge and warm and fluffy. It came with a side of butter, jelly, and cheese (yes cheese…I’m not sure why). After the bliss of muffins, we walked to the waterfront mall, which was situated close to the stadium. I figured we would be able to buy vuvuzelas (those annoying horn things you hear on tv that sound like bees) there, but apparently everyone and their mothers had sold out of them! I volunteered to run back to mall number one and bought four from guys selling them illegally on the street (we saw these same guys being chased away by the cops later, turns out you can’t sell merchandise within so many kms of the stadium). I ran back and met up with my group. They came bearing face paint! We entered the stadium two hours early, expecting security and lines to be long. It took us about 30 seconds to get in. There is tighter security at White Sox games. Sooo with our ample time, we drank Budweiser (go America!), painted our faces and practiced using the vuvuzelas (They are harder than they look…the key is to motorboat those things!). We found our seats which were on the first level and only about 12 rows up. I rooted for Greece while my friends rooted for Nigeria. The stands were not filled. I find this a bit embarrassing. This is supposed to be the biggest sporting event in the world and they can’t sell tickets? I know South Africa has been praised for how they have handled the world cup, but after the hassle we went through with tickets and the fact that there were empty seats gives me the opinion that South Africa should not hold this major of an event for a long time.

After 90 mins of excitement and much vuvuzela blowing, Greece won their first ever world cup match! I was pumped. We walked to a resturaunt where I ate the greatest burger of my time in Africa. Then, influenced by a drink or four, we thought it wise to go to McDonalds and eat yet another burger (I got the mega mac…4 patties…yes I regretted this the next day). We then returned to the hostel where I got to take a shower! It’s great to have running water. I find it interesting that the actual game part of this trip excited me less than the shiny mall and many food options.

The second game was slotted to be the winner of the US/England group to play the runner up of the Ghana/Germany group. I watched the US/Algeria game with great excitement. I was pretty distraught, thinking there might be a chance we see Slovenia, but thanks to Landon Donavon in stoppage time, we were off to see the US!

We took a similar trip to Bloom (minus the police escort) where we had a rental car waiting for us. We drove from Bloom to Rustenburg in a few hours. We stopped for food and bathroom breaks (turns out gas stations are just as exciting as malls). Along the way we listened to music, played car games, decorated ties and vuvuzelas, and shared in the general excitement of getting to see the US. We got to Johannesburg and promptly got lost. The signage was terrible! We got through some of the city and my friend (the only one who knows how to drive stick) was feeling sick. I had expressed interest in learning so she put me behind the wheel. What a scary experience. I stalled the car at least a dozen times and three times pulling out of the gas station where we switched. I did have a few good accelerations and once I got going it was easy. Stop signs have never been so scary. We did make it however and now I have a new desire to learn stick! We got dinner that night at yet another shiny mall then rested for the big game the next day.

We woke up the next morning nice and warm (it’s really cold in Lesotho at the moment) and proceeded again to the shiny mall where we found the same place with the muffins (I guess it’s a chain). After stuffing ourselves with muffins, we went in search for America decorations for the game. My friend really wanted to wear a flag. There was one store that sold flags, but they were out of US ones. I spied a US flag in the window of a bakery. I smoothly greeted the owner and said, “I have a bit of a weird question, is there any way you could sell us your flag?” I think she thought I was a bit nuts, but agreed to swap for a different flag if we were willing to take the US flag down and put the other one up. So we bought an Argentina flag and switched them, earning us a cape! We also bought a fair amount of paint…

We then returned to the hostel and commenced decorating ourselves. It took several hours that is all I will say. It is a bit of a travesty that we did not wind up on tv. If you check shutterfly, you will understand. We drove to the game, parked, and took the shuttle to the stadium. There were a few England fans on the shuttle who gave us grief. I would have gotten mad, but I was too excited about the game.

I imagine our walk to the stadium is how celebrities feel walking down the red carpet. Everyone gaped at us and took dozens of pictures. Everyone wanted their pictures with us! I think part of it was amazement at how we looked and part of it was amazement that I wasn’t wearing a shirt in pretty dang cold weather. It was nice talking to other Americans as well. The game was one of the most invested I have ever been at a live sporting event (save maybe Stagg bball games haha). I lost my voice during the first half. When Ghana scored the first goal only a few minutes in, I felt like I had been punched in the chest. I was stressed the entire game. When Donavon scored his PK, I felt like I could never be happier. Waiting for the start of overtime was like waiting for the results of an HIV test (maybe that’s a bad analogy). When the final whistle blew, I was devastated, not to mention freezing and a bit intoxicated after a few beers to help keep me warm. We drove to find dinner. We stopped at a place that had chicken and I got a whole chicken, four dinner rolls, fries, and a 2 liter of coke. My rationale was that I could eat some the next day, which I did. The next day, we woke up way too early, hit the road, and made it back to Lesotho. I learned something from this trip. And that is that I really like America. It took being away from it to really appreciate how awesome it is. I think my extreme disappointment at our loss is really telling to my newfound pride in my country.

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Some banana getting pumped up for the Greece-Nigeria game. (Banana is Sesotho for girls, which makes me laugh a lot. I love walking up to groups of my students and shouting "Hi banana!")

Goofing around after the Greece-Nigeria game ended. Somehow I sensed what game I would be seeing next, and dressed accordingly (much to the confusion of those around me).

ROAD TRIP TO RUSTENBURG! Driving in a car, even in the cramped backseat of this little compact Chevy, was truly transplendent.

All dolled up for the big game.

Feeling like a C-list celebrity walking to the stadium, still not sure why.

In true Peace Corps form, we wrote this in tape, which was quite inexpensive.

Since I'm at the Peace Corps office today, it occurred to me that I can upload video for free. This is Landon Donovan scoring on a game-tying PK in the 2nd half - the US' lone goal. Enjoy!

OK that title is a little deceptive, I'm not coming home anytime soon. But I've just learned I'm going to see the US play in the World Cup on Saturday! This all became official an hour ago, when the US beat Algeria in stoppage time, and England beat Slovenia, but not by enough to overtake the US in total goals scored, thereby leaving US as the top team in their group! For some time now, I've had tickets to go see the Round of 16 game between the Group C winner and the Group D runner-up. It was a longshot, but in the end, we won Group C.

Look how happy my next door neighbor is for me!

That's Relebohile Mpopo and her daddy, Tumelo. He's another Maths/Science teacher at my school. She was born the week after I moved into my house. Many Basotho toddlers reach a stage where they cry when they see a lekhooa (white person). I pride myself on helping to raise Relebohile with a familiarity with makhooa, such that this might never happen to her.

But I digress. Point is, a couple friends and I are heading up to Rustenberg, a small city outside Johannesburg, on Friday, to go to this game, and I really can't wait.

I actually was able to visit Bloemfontein to see the Greece-Nigeria match last week, as well. It was an awesome experience, though surely not nearly as exciting as the next one will be. We all supported Nigeria (Africa pride, I guess). Validating our pro-Nigeria sentiments, the Nigerians we met were joyful, friendly, and really pleasant to be around. They added a lot to the experience. The Greeks, on the other hand... well, I don't want to say anything. It's best not to make any rash judgments based on a first impression, right? Or on a second, or a third, or a fourth impression, right? In any case, the game was really something to remember (sadly, Nigeria lost 2-1).

In other World Cup related news, World Cup fever in Lesotho is raging strong. The official slogan, which you hear on TV/radio commercials as well as on sports shows, is "Feel it. It is here." But it's said with a really thick accent, and it's REALLY drawn out for effect, so it sounds more like "Feeeel EEEET! Eet ees HEEYEHHHHHH!" It's become such a household phrase that I frequently see one person say "Feel eet," and everyone else in the room will gleefully yell, "Eet ees heyehhhhh!" I love it. Once, a PCV friend and I were watching a game, but evidently weren't enthusiastic enough. Our Mosotho friend told us, "It is here, but you are not feeling it." A good laugh was had.

Also, let me just put it on the record, vuvuzelas at the World Cup are awful. I hate them. People in my village blow them regularly, at times waking me up in the morning, and they drown out all other sound both on TV and at the games live. Made of materials that range from plastic to cheap flimsy plastic, they play a single, highly grating tone. And to those who say its a meaningful part of the culture, that's a pretty big stretch. Animal horns by the same name were once used in village life, but we're dealing with neither animal horns nor village life. Not to mention, it demeans the richness of the culture that South Africa doesn't find something less abrasive to trumpet (no pun intended) as a cultural icon, like, I don't know, singing. Or face painting.

So, what else? I haven't posted much recently, because, frankly, not too much has been going on. We finished up classes for the semester. My class of 118 Form A's is on pace to have 10 students pass to Form B (and if it were based on Maths/Science alone, that number would be 5). I am on break until late July, at which point, our new buildings will be complete. Then, my class of 118 will turn into 2 classes of 59. I can't wait for that.

With all that said, here are two anecdotes, one sad, one comical.

- There's a really nice kid in my Form A named Paseka. He's 13, I think, but looks like he's 9. He lives alone with his younger brother, up a mountain about 40 minutes walking from school. He tries harder than almost everyone in the class, and though he isn't passing yet, I'm optimistic he will pass when finals come around in November. But he's got it pretty rough. One day I found him cutting school, walking home by himself. I was shocked, because he's such a well mannered kid. I asked him what he was doing, and he explained that he was too hungry to stay in school, and he was going home to eat. My heart broke a little bit. Surely I couldn't punish him. I told him I'll keep it a secret, but he can't do it again.

The point of the story is, last night he knocks on my door after dark (again, very out of character). He tells me he has no light in his house, and he is asking for a candle. Now, I make it very clear to everyone that I have a firm policy of not giving money, food, or anything else to students, regardless of their story. I've never broken this policy. But somehow, I know how sincere Paseka is, and when I picture him and his little brother in the dark, in the freezing cold, I can't help myself. I can't send him back outside with nothing. So I give him the candle and tell him I can't do this again.

It was an awkward, sad situation, one that I only hope doesn't come up again.

- Everyday, I bring a Nalgene to school, full of filtered water. There's a tap where everyone else gets water, but us makhooa are better off with filtered (think Montezuma's revenge). But there's this one teacher who, for some reason, frequently asks to drink some of my water. I begrudgingly agree every time, hoping she won't take too much. Well, the other day, we're standing outside when this happens. She takes a hefty swig. Then she stops, and deliberately pours about half the water onto the ground. I stare at her in confusion. She looks back at the bottle, and pours nearly all of the remaining water on the ground, handing me back about an inch of water. I ask her, as politely as possible, "Why did you dump it?" To which she casually responds, "I like dumping." Then she turns and walks away. We're still friends though.

OK that's all for now. By the way, I love reading your comments, so keep em coming!

1. My house is so cold, I woke up to find a semi-conscious mouse shivering uncontrollably in the middle of my floor a few days ago (I proceeded to perform a cervical dislocation to humanely put it out of its misery).

2. My house is so cold, I left a raw hamburger wrapped in foil sitting on my floor for 48 hours, and it was still 100% perfect for dinner tonight.

3. My house is so cold, condensation forms on my corrugated tin roof every night, and then drips all over my floor, my bed, and sometimes even my face every morning.

Only one of those three stories is fake. Can you guess which one?

OK just saying hello, and rubbing it in your face how much character I'm building. Tomorrow is the last day of school, then I have off until July 21. Gonna be a nice break, but I'll miss all my little @#!%ers, as I've come to call them (affectionately of course).

As this was one of the best vacations I will probably ever go on, it warrants reliving it once more on the blog, this time in photos. Also a good way to introduce some my close friends here.

Abortion is illegal in Lesotho, but legal in SA. So Basotho will at times cross the border to get the job done. Here, at the border gate, is an advertisement for abortion doctor, Dr. Mama Lerato (lerato being Sesotho for "love"). Kimiko is doing something here with her hands, maybe illustrating the Circle of Life, from the Lion King, which took place in Africa... I'm not sure.

Insert your own "Why did the baboon cross the road?" joke here. Seriously though, this was the defining "Welcome to South Africa" moment for us, about one hour into the drive.

I'll just say, it was a long ride to Mantis and Moon.

This is actually what it looks like in South Africa. This is not fake. Hamonate, e??

Durban. Our first time in a real city since leaving New York, though we were only there to change taxis. While most of us were busy saying things like "Where the hell is the taxi going South?" or "We are all about to get robbed," or "Someone just stepped in a puddle of urine and splashed it all over my leg," good old Kimiko was wandering around joyfully taking photos. Thanks Kimiko!

HOSTEL

Seriously, treehouses in the middle of the jungle. Absolutely incredible, I might just apply to work here one day.

Oh, and the food here is awesome too. Here are two fellow maths le science teachers, Shanthi and Party House (aka PH aka "Fuhh" aka Adam).

BEACH

Rory - Smarter than he looks. You can also see him in action here: http://stuffwhitepeoplelike.com/2008/09/23/110-frisbee-sports/ He's the white people who loves frisbee.

This is a really ugly ocean, not to mention that putrid sunset (running out of ways to describe how beautiful this place is).

GORGE

Hiking through the jungle on the way to the gorge (Kimiko, Dustin's shoulder, Shanthi, PH, me in the back).

The gorge! It's big. You dive into it.

Taking a nap on the side of the gorge before my dive. Though it looks a bit like I'm clutching my head in anxiety, I'm actually sound asleep here. Sara is testifying how peaceful the moment was.

Just before jumping...

Sadly, EVERYONE with cameras spaced out when I jumped and forgot to take pictures. So here's my friend Katie jumping, and you can pretend it's me. I swear I jumped though.

OK Computer dying! That's all.

Finally! Thanks Mom for funding the External Hard Drive that made this possible. Now, without further ado, some pictures from my house and my school. Pictures from vacation will come next time.

So, I'm actually at the PC Training Center here, on the day of Swearing In. I'm pinning my name on the big Lesotho map where my site is. Not sure if it's usually a ceremonial thing, but about 4 of us pretended it was. Notice my Seshoeshoe shirt (very popular with the Bo'me) and my back sweat - apparently, it was really hot here once. Seems like a distant memory.

School

A view from my school on a cloudy day. I teach on top of a mountain, though in Lesotho terms, it's called a hill. Here you see one of the toilets, not very exciting. The point is, look, I'm in the clouds!

But when the weather is nicer, it's quite beautiful up here. On a hot day, the wind you get on the mountain top is refreshing.

"Lesotho, Fatse La Bontata Rona..."

These aren't my students - this was on a school field trip to a Cave Village called Ha Kome, where we saw many other schools too. Some kids were sitting hanging over a ledge overlooking this expansive mountain landscape, and I thought the silhouettes made for a nice picture. This is currently the wallpaper on my computer.

This is just a completely silly response to a recent test question. Actually it's kind of cute. Nevermind that the answer to "Organ that produces sperm" is "male and female." In case you can't read it, the question is "Describe, in detail, the process of fertilization in humans." The answer is "human have a baby and have a big house. Human have money but not all. The want a work because she want a money." This was FAR from the worst answer I got to this question. The worst was "Tail. Uclens. Tail. Uclens. Tail."

FASFAC - Form A Super Fun Academic Competition

I had a competition in my classes for a month. I divided the class into teams of 9, and the team with the highest test average for the month won. The winning team got a pen, a goofy certificate, and got to come to my house for home-made chili. It was a blast.

Here's one of the certificates. Palesa Mokete is the "magrabilitationalism" girl. I drew everything on the certificate, then gave it to another teacher who helped with the compteition, to add some color. She unknowingly drew a Jewish star (in Christmas colors, no less) which gave me a good laugh.

5 of the winners, at my house, eating chili and showing off their sweet new certificates. From left to right, Ntsoaki Morake, Palesa "Magrabilitationalism" Mokete, Dimakatso Nkabane, Puseletso Lentjeka, and Mankoane Maimane. All really good kids, and some of them are really bright (hence them winning).

Showing the kids my music, and pictures of my family and America. A very Peace Corps picture, no doubt.

They took my camera and started playing with it out on my front lawn. This is just a ridiculous picture that I can't stop laughing at. In my head, Palesa is screaming "Magrabilitationalism!" and Puseletso is saying "What the F are you thinking?"

Finally, one last picture, this one of Selabalo, the 4 year old I talk about from time to time. This is also on my front lawn.

Enjoy! Ke tla ngola hape haufinyane (I'll write again soon).

Good: My principal and I have agreed on what we hope will become my secondary project as a PCV. It's a lofty goal but we're optimistic. With the help of some students and probably some other PCVs, I'll be writing a series of study guides for maths/science courses. We will distribute them to our students, and what's better, we aim to publish them professionally, and sell them around Lesotho. The money will be reinvested in our school, which, since it's still brand new, has all kinds of worthwhile uses for it. Today we took the first steps to begin the project, by soliciting students who want to join the team. Response was positive.

Bad: Yesterday, some of our primary school students attempted to rape one of our secondary students. Somehow school staff caught them, and fortunately the girl is okay. The punishment for the guilty students? We call their parents... that's it. I'm definitely not in Pikesville anymore.

Weird: I've been trying to teach Selabalo, the adorable 4 year old chatterbox across the street from me, basic greetings in Sekhooa (English). Now when I say "How are you?" she knows to reply "I am fine." Lately I've been struggling to get her to ask me how I am back. It's turned into a sort of Abbott and Costello routine, where every time I explain that she should say "I am fine, how are you?" she hears the "how are you?" part, and just shouts "I am fine!" and laughs. It's a lot of fun for us both. So, I was at Selabalo's house the other day, chatting with her mom, as she sat on the kitchen table echoing various English words she picked up as we spoke, and also shouting various terms she's overheard elsewhere (once she randomly screamed "conference center!"). As I said goodbye to them both, and as I was about to pull the door closed behind me, Selabalo looks at me and yells "They slept together!" and grins innocently.

Here's the contents of a composition written by one of my Form A students in her English class. I was bored one day and started reading some of these essays, and really loved this one. Besides typing it, I haven't changed anything.

Note: This received a 66%, one of the top in the class.

Also note: I have no clue what magrabilitationalizm is, except that I've since asked the girl, and she says she read it in the dictionary, and it means love.

A day I will never forget in my life

A day I will never for get is this, when I come to school on food I found that its too late so I see a van coming on the rode my heard becomes as white as an angles' kiss , so when this van is near to me I ask a lift to that men so he said: 'Get in my child , I was so terrified of this men because his face was not happy , his eyes was red and I think that he is a criminal person

When the van is near to the board which is written stop , I ask him to stay there so his face changes and shouted at me , I was so terrified I was asking GOT TO HELP ME , I was taking a big stone in my school bag and that man was driving this van so fast and he looks so very dangerous when I take that stone and he did no see me when he was doing this nonsense. I broke that window with that stone and jump out of that van I was so happy . My words were this to got : "GOT I LOVE you, you are my magrabilitationalizm who I am proud by him and who I trust him Thank you for taking me out of this van

I was disgusted about that men that he is a bad behaviour men he was going to kill me and I was disgusted him so fastly because he become agumentative when I ask him to get out and thinks that he is an informer because he talks too much .

I found myself wondering because I was late to school . I found my teachers in the office roon and I was going appologise because I was late . I was telling them what is has happen . They were happy to me because I pass English club by Top 10 Sesotho by 6 stars I was so happy

so when we arrive home I tolt my parents that has has happen when I comes to school and when I am at school . And my father make sure that he pay bus fare for me every day They were happy when I tell them that I have pass my exam

What an intense, weird day.

It was just my second day back to real teaching, after Phase 3, vacation, and 1.5 weeks of exams. I woke up extra early this morning to plan my maths lesson, since I had a double period with my Form A's (all 117 of them) to start the school day. I had two cups of coffee. Little did I know, I would do little actual teaching today.

I wore my Orioles hat to school. I've never worn a hat to school before, but my principal did the other day, so I realized it's okay. At morning assembly kids stared at me like I died my hair pink... I guess I should be used to this level of fascination by now. I decided I'd use the opportunity to tell Form A all about the Orioles and how "awesome" they are (I would conveniently omit that they're currently an MLB worst 2-13). But, instead I spent 20 minutes ushering the kids to get into their @&#!ing seats and get out their books. I had gotten as far as writing "Baltimore" on the board, when I lost my patience and told them I'm scrapping the story. I yelled for a while, I might have said @&#!, and they eventually behaved. After 20 minutes of decent behavior, they began to act horribly again. I calmly walked out of the classroom, refusing to allow myself to get too irritated. It's only the second time I've ever walked out, and it freaked them out.

Five minutes later, a few ambassadors found me outside, apologized, and begged me to come back. After some thought, I gave in. I then instructed them, "Raise your hand if you want to learn, get up and leave the room if you don't." I told them I would not try to teach them if they didn't want to learn. Every hand went up, and I resumed teaching. After what was already a really eventful morning, I thought I was finally in the clear, but I couldn't possibly have predicted what was about to happen.

I had a very functional class for about five minutes. It was great. I felt like I got the point across (indeed, maybe I did). I was writing something on the board about angles and degrees, when in the back of the class, someone screamed very loudly. My eyes rolled, thinking there must be a rat. But the tortured screaming didn't stop. I turned around and saw students crowding together as panic spread through the room. I pushed my way to the center to find a young girl, Mabatho, screaming and convulsing. Students were laying her down on a bench. Slowly she stopped screaming, but the seizure continued as her eyes welled with tears. Some students removed her shoes and held her feet, some students were stretching her arms out, one boy was trying to rapidly wobble her head around. Most were just standing on desks trying to see what was happening. It was complete chaos. I yelled at a student to go get the other teachers, I tried to back people off. I tried to get Tsepang to stop moving her head all over the place. I put my hand on her side, gently but firmly, trying to gauge how severly she was shaking, and, maybe, to comfort her. As she began to move a bit less, I told her she was OK and to try to relax. Soon, every teacher was there, and the entire student body was trying to get a good view. Most of us teachers went into crowd control. Gradually the chaos died down, and we carried Mabatho to another room with a mattress.

She lay there, keeping herself remarkably composed, and speaking very little, for about an hour. I spoke with the PC doctor, who instructed us to bring her to the local hospital. An hour and a half later, three of us did. Over the course of a few hours there (skipping my science class, by the way), I learned that she also had 3 seizures last week, and that she has a family history of epilepsy. Sure enough, she was diagnosed as epileptic and was prescribed anti-convulsive medication. Clearly, this was an absolutely awful week and a half for her (especially considering that through it all, her mother, the only parent at home, has been in South Africa, probably completely in the dark about this). Let's hope the drugs work.

After the dust settled and we drove her to her house, I returned to school in time for a soccer game with about 20 students, plus a few teachers and other locals. In another completely out-of-the-ordinary twist, I actually played the whole game (albeit 75% as goalie). Who knew I play soccer, and against Africans no less? It was a perfect way to clear my mind after everything else. I reached home shortly before dark, buried myself in a tub of peanut butter (note - thanks Lof for sending me gourmet PB, it's excellent, though probably cost you a fortune to ship), and, in one final deviation from the norm, I ate a kiwi.

When I was at Phase 3 training a few weeks ago, we had a session where we each had a chance to talk about our best day and our worst day at our sites so far. I couldn't pick out a specific day that I'd call best or worst, so I didn't participate. There's been one ongoing saga that has stood out as by far the most depressing thing I've encountered, but since it didn't fit neatly into a 24 hour package, I didn't talk about it.

But I get to blabber all I want about it here, and today is definitely the day. This saga started on a Monday morning about 1.5 months ago. Following our morning assembly, our Vice Principal made an announcement. Students who did not have cleanly shaved heads (school policy is to have a shaved head, males and females) were to go home immediately and shave. They could come back when they're clean. Also, students who hadn't paid school fees yet are being kicked out until they pay. Evidently there were some families who were promising to pay, but ran out of slack.

I went to teach my classes and found about 60% of my class missing. I wasn't sure who went to shave, and who was being kicked out over money. I cancelled class, and we spent the day goofing around and playing one of the all-time great math games, 24. This was actually fun, but one thing stuck out - my best student, Palesa, was missing.

Palesa is probably 16 years old. She's extremely well mannered, and raises her hand every time I ask a question. She's almost always right, but what's even better, sometimes she's wrong, and it doesn't bother her. She's the class prefect (kind of like, the captain of the class), and she destroys the curve on every quiz and test we've ever had (On my first maths test, way back when, 81/85 kids got below a 50, with most in the 20-30 range. There were 3 others who got below 56. Palesa got an 85). Once she asked if she could start teaching me Sesotho, though this hasn't come to pass.

When I didn't see her, at first I hoped she was gone to shave her head. But then she wasn't back the next day. Or the next week. Or the week after that. I realized what was going on, and it hit me pretty hard. It is devastating at times to invest so much energy teaching these kids, and to have them average 25% on a test. To have them refuse to do homework, to cheat relentlessly, to have absolutely no regard for their futures. But for the first few months, at least there was this one massive bright spot, someone who listened eagerly when I talked, who enjoyed learning, and who clearly had all the talent in the world. And then she was gone because there was no one to pay her $200 annual school fee. I don't think she has any clue, but I missed her terribly.

So like the resourceful Peace Corps Volunteer I am trying to be, I began working to get her back. I found out about a scholarship I can apply for on her behalf, though it would take months to actually get that money. I convinced my principal to allow her back anyway, and that we'd get the money after the fact. I asked her best friend, another student named Thandiwe, to call her back to school. But Thandiwe reported back the next day that Palesa is gone to Maseru to make money, but she didn't know where exactly. I'm still not entirely sure what this means, but it sounds horrible. Some more time went by trying to get things straightened out.

Finally, just this Monday, I arranged to have Thandiwe and another teacher come with me to Palesa's grandmother's house. I planned to ask her grandmother where in Maseru I could go, and I'd make a trip out of it this coming weekend. Well, we were in luck. Turns out Palesa had just called it quits working in Maseru a few days prior, and was now sitting around her grandmother's house doing nothing. We found her! I told her the deal, I told her to come back to school and we'd sort everything out. She was SO happy. She began to cry. I don't know how to describe what a great moment it was. Her grandmother thanked us profusely in Sesotho, I just kept hearing the words "Ke thabile," meaning "I am happy."

It was, without a doubt, the best day I've had as a volunteer.

This week is not a normal school week - we are having quarterly cumulative exams in all classes. We found Palesa the day before I was giving my maths exam. She was really excited to come in and take the test the next day, which concerned me. I knew she was really eager to get back into the swing of things, but she had missed the last month of class. I urged her to take a few days to read over notes she missed, and take the test next week. But she insisted. She had the audacity to promise to get above a 90. This surprised me, she's normally much more soft-spoken than this, but it won me over, and I gave in. Turns out, once again, 4 people passed the exam (115 students total). She got a 91, 20 points better than anyone else. I get to tell her the good news tomorrow.

I've mentioned before that I have been teaching students at my school how to play frisbee. It is growing increasingly popular, with a few new faces venturing to try it out each day we play. My principal has gone on record calling it a fantastic activity. I suspect we are not far from starting an actual Frisbee Club. Pretty exciting.

Clubs and sports are sorely lacking from my students lives, and frisbee represents a great avenue to address this issue. It also addresses one of Peace Corps' three fundamental goals, that of spreading awareness of American culture. And, in the interest of full disclosure, it's exceedingly fun.

The problem is, I only have one Frisbee. It's a few years old, and after recently sustaining some critical injuries, it's now on life support. In other words, it has multiple cracks and won't last much longer. Real frisbees do not exist in Lesotho, and from what I can tell, they're not in SA either.

So, this is a plea for someone to help me out by buying 2 or 3 DISCCRAFT brand Frisbees, and mailing them to me. I will gladly pay you back for the discs and for shipping. If you are interested in helping, please, email me!

In closing, I refer you to this compelling argument from Helen Lovejoy. Kea leboha!

That's South African/Sesotho for "I'm good how are you." Note, it's perfectly appropriate to say even when no one asked you how you are.

Hello again, it's been a while I know. Today was my first day back at school after 2.5 weeks away from site. I spent most of that in Maseru, at the training center with the rest of my ED '10 buddies, getting in some final training. This was a good time, packed with plenty of useful information and tons of reconnecting and story telling. It was a much needed time to decompress after 3 pretty heavy months of service.

One highlight, at the end of training, was meeting with a committee that I joined called PAC, which oversees Peace Corps' role in the Lesotho education system. We meet every 6 months to discuss ways to improve the entire program, and we tackled some pretty worthwhile stuff. I had been gunning to get on this committee since I first heard of it months ago, excited by the chance to represent my peers and optimize our program on their behalf. Indeed, it was really nice, and I'm now looking forward to implementing the changes we discussed.

Anyway, if you're still awake, now for the really fun stuff. I just spent the Easter holiday on the South Coast of South Africa, and to call it a great trip would be a massive understatement. We stayed at an incredible hostel called Mantis and Moon (hey awesome, free plug, 15 whole people on the other side of Earth read this every single day). It's literally carved out of the jungle, and it has everything you'd ever want. Great bar, great food, amazing staff, monkeys, a barbecue, fooz ball. It's a 5 minute walk to the Indian Ocean (which, by the way, is beautifully blue, with monster waves that somehow did not kill me), and the hostel staff provide daily trips to all kinds of adventurous excursions.

Since we only had 3 full days there, we could take one such excursion. Some of the gang opted for white water rafting, but most of us, myself included, went on a 3 hour jungle hike to a really beautiful waterfall. Following the hike, I jumped off a cliff into a gorge, on what is the largest swing on Earth (watch someone else do it!). This jump is really incredible. The adrenaline rush leading to it, heightened by a bunch of friends screaming at me, was an experience in itself. I swan dove off the edge, and proceeded to fall through the air for three seconds (longer than it sounds) before swinging around at the bottom. At the bottom, things are suddenly very quiet. All you see is treetops below you, and all you hear is birds chirping, and a waterfall not too far in the distance. The rapid contrast between the rush at the top and the serenity at the bottom was absolutely striking, a sensation I hope I never forget.

That was certainly the most noteworthy point of the trip, but far from the only highlight. We met some amazing people, some of whom put our own travel experiences to shame (namely a 32 year old Brit who has been to every country in Africa but Lesotho and Angola). The beach was beautiful and the weather was mostly perfect. There was free snorkeling a 30 minute walk down the beach, where we found gorgeous coral and schools of happy fishes. I slept outside in a hammock, and I'm pretty sure I didn't get malaria.

And if you didn't think I'd devote a whole paragraph to the food, you've never met me. In short, it was great. Sadly we didn't get a chance for anything gourmet, but there is quality meat everywhere. Every gas station, and just about everywhere else too, sells all kinds of meat pies - single serving pastries full of curries, or chicken/mushroom, or something else delicious. Great Indian food abounds (did you know, South Africa has the largest Indian population outside of India), including a local adaptation called bunny chow, basically a bread bowl of meat and vegetable curry. But wait, there's more. On our first morning at the hostel we were lounging around the kitchen, finishing up breakfast in particularly sluggish fashion. A beefy, gruff, 50ish shirtless chain smoking Afrikaaner who we had befriended earlier walked up to our table. WIth very little conversation, he abruptly slammed down two massive steaks and two racks of pork ribs. I'm paraphrasing here, but he basically said to us, "This is the best meat you will ever eat, I challenge you to tell me otherwise. I have to leave, I'll be back in a few days. There's a barbecue next to the bar, they'll let you use it." He didn't realize that 5/12 people in our group are vegetarians, but I certainly didn't mention it. We slowly processed what just happened, and grew giddy. My friend Ryan and I grilled up the meat that night, and we had a grand feast. All 5 vegetarians even gave in and ate what was, indeed, among the best meat we've ever had.

By the way, I know you all are getting itchy to see some pictures, and I'm getting just as itchy to post them. I'm having some technical difficulties in that department, so please bear with me, I am hoping to get that straightened out in the near future.

With that said, my computer battery is about to die, so I'll end it here. One other quick note - my principal invited me today to give a presentation to my school about alternative forms of discipline. My suggestions were received well, and at the end, my principal announced that he loves the idea of detention, and is making it a system-wide procedure. Now all teachers will assign and hold detention, which is a massive victory for me. It's a great step in demonstrating that child abuse is not the only way to instill discipline. We're also making a push towards positive reinforcement in addition to punishment, in an effort to help kids realize that they aren't worthless (I discussed this earlier here).

Boroko bo monate!

Why must my students walk for hours on an empty stomach to get to school? Why do they ask me for food money five times daily? Why do I get to be in this position? Why am I not the one asking? Why did I get to be born in the first world?

Why was my best student, who could have waltzed into Harvard if she was born under different circumstances, forced to drop out of school because she can't afford school fees?

Who is John Galt?

I did nothing to earn the privilege of being American. So often, we turn a blind eye to the differences between our lives and theirs, the differences in opportunities available to us. Sure, we often hear about it, but we rarely listen to it. Why the disconnect? Because it's painful to think about. Our isolation keeps our conscience clean. And then, there's me. Why did I choose to move to Lesotho? Starving children don't beg me for 13 cents as they rummage through the trash in Boston.

Why, oh why, didn't I take the blue pill?

1. Did you know? You can get sick from driving with the window open. But only the windows behind the front seats, the front seats are magically alright. At least, this is what Basotho believe. Something about tuberculosis, or something. It's not true at all. So, when it comes to the open-closed position of the windows of kombis (the 15+ person taxis, more often packed to 25 people smashed against each other), I am in an ongoing war with the Basotho. It's Africa, it's summer, it's really hot. If I'm fortunate enough to get a seat with a window, I open it. Inevitably, someone leans across me to close it. I get annoyed that they didn't ask me first, so 5 minutes later, I open it again. Horrified, they shield their baby's face as if the plague is blowing in from outside. I feel sorry for them, and close it until just a crack is open, and I go back to sweating.

2. As an intro to our recent unit on reproduction in Form A Science class, we had a period of students asking questions about sex else. Some of the highlights:

- "Why do I have wet dreams?"

- "Why does my penis hurt after sex?"

- "Do condoms really give you AIDS?" I'm thrilled I had the chance to clear up that one.

And then my favorite two... I like to consider them side by side for comparison. Think about whether students in your 8th grade class said these things out loud.

- From a loud, long-winded, but pretty funny guy: "Sir, how come sometimes, sir, ehhh, what I want to say is... Sir, sometimes, when I want a girl to have sex with me, she tells me she can't, sir, because she's having a, a, a period, sir?"

- From a nerdy, overweight, extremely quiet girl: "What does sex feel like?" (I did not answer this one).

It was somewhat touching that the girl felt comfortable enough with her classmates to be so open about her innocence, after all the gory questions before her. This was a really entertaining day.

3. I have been paying a lady from the neighborhood to do my laundry for me. The price is great, and besides, I don't really understand how to get all the soap out without running water. I'm happy to let someone who could use the money more than I can, and who understands the soap-water dynamics, do it for me. Problem is, I didn't find out until after the fact that it's extremely offensive to give her my underwear to wash. Yeah. So, now I do that part myself.

4. And finally, the story that prompted me to write this blog post: Today, some girls from my class came to me for help with math. Very nice kids, kind of giggly. We finished up and as they were leaving, a girl was trying to say to me "Sweet dreams" (not sure why, since it was 3:45pm, but nevertheless). She accidentally said "Have a wet dream." I called her out on it, and as the girls walked away with their heads hung in embarassment, we all laughed uproariously. I did not stop laughing for about 20 minutes.

Weird to think I just mentioned wet dreams twice in one post, but maybe that's just how it goes sometimes when you write a blog about teaching 8th grade.

I'm alive and well here in good old Masite Nek.

Teaching is, as it has been since day one, a struggle. But it's fun. I think of it as a year-long challenge, the kids start here (imagine my hand really close to the floor), and I'm trying to see how close I can bring them to wayyyy up here (hand up around eye level).

The class size has tapered off, we're at 107 students in Form A. Their ages range from 13-22 (again, this is 8th grade). One looks like he could kick my ass. There are about 10 boys who look like they are 9 years old. They all talk nonstop, until one of two things happens: a) I give about 10 people detention, or b) I go on a tirade about how they need to grow up, how I'm not their babysitter, and how the rest of the class is spending money to learn, and these certain kids are ruining it for them. All in all, they've developed into a pretty entertaining, though often infuriating, bunch of kids (and men and women).

I have stolen a brilliant teaching strategy from my friend Adam, who is working up North in Butha Buthe. I've split my class into 12 teams, each with some smart kids and some... eh... work-in-progress types. Over the next month, teams compete to have the highest average grade in math, science, and business education classes (I am teaming up with the business teacher for this). Teams got to choose their own names, captains, and assistant captains. The winning team is invited to my house for some homemade American food (chili - I make some pretty good chili). They also will win a pen, which might help with them whining about losing their pens.

In other competition news, ultimate frisbee is developing a small but loyal fan base, and I've had a couple of really fun games with the students. I'm still feeling out how much potential this has to become an official club, or even better, some sort of organized team setup.

Last week I got hit with a pretty nasty cold, even though its 90 degrees here most days. I went to the hospital to get some antibiotics, and when I was there, I got a sweet t-shirt I really wanted. It's bright red, and in huge letters says "HIV POSITIVE." You see them around Lesotho now and then. They're given out by Doctors With Borders. It's just about raising awareness and willingness to discuss HIV. I have been wanting one for a while, and so was thrilled to get one shortly before beginning my science lessons about reproduction and sexual safety.

The story really begins yesterday, when I walked into class prepared to talk about STD's. I tore off my button down shirt Superman-style to reveal the HIV Positive t-shirt. There was much hooting and hollering. I told them to be quiet. I told a story about how my friend got AIDS and died, because her boyfriend thought he was clean, because he never bothered to get tested. This got them to shut up real fast. It's not a true story, but enough people have a story like that that I felt fine telling it, and making it seem more personal for effect. I realized their interest in talking about HIV, so I abandoned my lesson, and had them all write one question they had. I collected them, and planned to read them over and answer as many as I could the next time (today).

Some questions were good, some were silly. Some weren't even questions. My favorite, which made me burst out laughing, and which I am going to hang on my wall, is "HIV is important to people." The girl who wrote it is really sweet, I love her, but... let's just say this is not her first year in Form A. But then... I got this one two-part question, from a tall, quiet, really nice 20-year old guy. He said "1. Where did I get this deases from? 2. Why did'nt I protect my self from this dangerous deases?" My heart sunk when I read it. I wondered what I should do.

So I answered many of the questions in class today, but not his, that would have been really inappropriate. When it ended, I said to come see me if you have more questions. He found me outside immediately, and asked me what he should do. Struggling, I told him I'm not a doctor, but that he needs to go see a doctor to come up with a plan, and that modern treatment makes it possible to live a long, decent quality life. Surely this wasn't the ideal answer, but still, if he goes to see professional help, that's great.

Now, Jerry Springer's Final Thought: As always, the days are a mixture of fun, frustrating, exciting, and depressing. My general state of mind is great though, I'm quite happy, so please don't worry. Or, worry, but attempt to fix it by sending me Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. :) Only kidding. As it says on my frisbee, Life is Good.

The past few days haven't really been all that busy. I still spend a few hours each day sitting around my apartment trying to find ways to pass the time (I just finished reading Fountainhead, a 695 page book that I got extremely sucked into... or is it better grammatically to say "into which I got extremely sucked"... eh whatever, that's not the point). But it's been highly eventful.

Last Saturday I went to a wedding, as the... guest? date?... of a coworker of mine. Her friends got married. I went into it unsure if I was meant to be her date, or just an American who would be curious to see a Basotho wedding. Even now, it's still very hard to say. But indeed, I was very curious to see it, and it was fun. The whole service was much more energetic than an American wedding service. There was a marching band/choir that paraded through the aisles. The pastor, in an effort to play matchmaker, made all the single folks stand up in their seats and say hello to each other. There is a dance/techno song called "Marry Me" (by DJ Call Me, if you're curious) that is ridiculously popular in Lesotho and South Africa right now. It cracks me up, because the lyrics are "If I marry you, will you marry me," which makes very little sense. I hear it daily, blasting from the windows of my neighbors houses or the tarven across the street. At the wedding, there were rented 16-person taxis driving us from church to reception and such... in the taxis, Marry Me was on a continuous loop, at full volume, and people were going nuts for it. Really, really fun. The rest of the party was OK, though surprisingly little dancing. The weather wasn't great, maybe that's why. And, they slaughtered sheep, not cows, which was a bummer. I really don't like mutton. But I went home and made myself 2 cheeseburgers for dinner. I have been wanting a cheeseburger for 3 months, it was glorious (side comment, Ellen, I'm glad my hunger for beef amuses you so much, and I'm really excited to hear you're reading the blog!).

So that was all really fun, but on the other end of the spectrum... today, the other teachers and I went to visit the mother of a recently deceased student. [WARNING: This paragraph is horribly depressing.] We ended school two hours early to go there. (Back story: The girl had recently become pregnant, and when the mother found out and confronted her, she became scared. Supposely she was mostly scared of what the father was going to do when he found out. She drank rat poison. She was a Form C student; I didn't know her.) We walked in to the mother slumped on a mattress on the floor, covered in tattered blankets, facing the wall with her head in her hands. The teachers all began to sing Sesotho hymns, which were intense and had a lot of emotion in them, but were unable to drown out the mother's wailing. It was one of the most heart wrenching things I can remember. But the way in which we entered the house, spoke very little, and sang traditional songs for about 30 minutes was very beautiful. Some of the teachers who led the songs didn't even know the girl, but they were no less sincere, and it felt totally natural. There is a level of camaraderie, a certain easiness, among Basotho that does not exist in America.

In other news, my Form A students (now 106 of them) were so terrible yesterday morning that with 20 minutes left in class, I told them I was too angry to teach anymore, and I gave them a big homework assignment to write about what they all did wrong (talking incessantly, throwing paper, cheating on a quiz, whining about not having a pencil, etc), and left the room. I had to teach them again in the afternoon, which began with them apologizing, and then me giving them a long lecture about how much they are wasting each others time. Also about how Lesotho is poor, and someone, parent or otherwise, is struggling to pay money for them all to get an education, and they are wasting it. I was really pissed. But today was improved. Also, I am now underway teaching Form D biology. I have on 21 students in there, and it's amazing. I think about how a baseball player swings two bats in the on-deck circle, so when he steps up to the plate the one bat feels light. That's how 21 Form D students feels... it's a breeze.

I'm also trying to teach some kids at school frisbee. I'm hoping to eventually start having Ultimate Frisbee games, if they have the patience to learn how to throw. OK, TTFN.

I haven't had much of a chance to write in a while. Computer battery life has been hard to come by, but alas, now I have some. Hooray.

Ok, maybe to be honest, I've been procrastinating writing a bit. I found myself thinking, I don't have that much to say, things have been pretty steady these past few weeks. But as soon as I started to write, I realized I have an overwhelming amount to talk about.

Things like... how to manage a class of 97 students in a room that should only have 30, when you have no resources but a chalkboard and chalk, and the kids are conditioned only to respond to being beaten, and I refuse to beat. Things like, why I regularly see students eating entire sheets of paper (and not just the weird kids, the normal ones), and how I can't leave chalk behind after I teach because it disappears instantly (probably gets eaten too). Like, how infuriating corporal punishment is, both from an ethical standpoint, and from the standpoint that it is destructive to the learning process. Like, how, as a new school, we accept any kids we can get to build up our student body, so we end up with a ton of other schools' rejects. This might help to explain why we found 5 kids fighting with switchblades in the grass two weeks ago, how only 35% of the class completed the first homework, and how 81/85 students got <50% on my first math test.

But that's only the bad stuff. And really, I joined Peace Corps for the challenge, and that's exactly what these things are. So from this distorted, semi-perverse perspective, these problems are kind of... good. They keep life interesting, to say the least.

I actually really enjoy my students. Many of them are going to fail, there's no question. A lot are repeating Form A already. Many are orphans, or have been abandoned. Some walk two hours each way to/from school. A good portion of my class is visibly beaten down by school and by life, and despite their actions a lot of the time, I think they all really want to do succeed. I'm starting to get the sense that in many cases, their self esteem sucks, and they are starved for guidance, encouragement, and positive reinforcement.

I had two PC staff come to watch a class on Wednesday, and the class responded by behaving flawlessly, not making a peep, answering questions with enthusiasm. I was stunned. Later in the day, as they sat in the room goofing around with no teacher present (this happens regularly), I walked in. Without saying anything, I wrote on the board "Thank you for being perfect students today in science class. You made me look good." Before I was done writing, they had broken into a screaming, joyous applause like I've never heard before. I hurried to finish writing, because I coudn't help but to laugh and applaud with them for a minute. In the grand scheme, it was a small accomplishment, but they were really proud of themselves. It was a poignant moment, definitely the highlight of teaching in these first 3 weeks.

Another short, funny story. I've become kinda tight with the guy who runs the shop next to my house, Bokang. I usually walk in on the way home from school to say hello, and to pick up anything I need that day. One day last week, I went in to say hi, and out of nowhere, he told me I should get behind the counter and start selling, because he could use some help. I had nothing better to do, so I did as he said. It was pretty fun, and it has evolved to where I now work there for 30 minutes or an hour every day or two. It's a good way to pass the time, to hang out with Bokang, to meet the people from the neighborhood, to practice Sesotho, to play with his dog who is always in the shop, and to clear my debt for keeping food in his fridge.

There's plenty else to talk about, but for now, I'll end it here. Tomorrow I'm going to a Basotho wedding! I hope they slaughter a cow, I would love a steak.

I am done my first day of school! It was a good day. I was introduced this morning to a nice ovation, and felt very welcome. From everything I've been told, this was one of the least disorganized first days of any school in Lesotho. What I mean is, we actually had classes. We took attendance. Lunch was served. I gave homework, sort of. At the morning assembly, our Vice Principal announced that "Unlike other schools, who will not begin teaching for the first few weeks of school, we are going to start teaching today. So tell your friends, we are starting to teach today."

But, in saying this was not that disorganized for Lesotho, I am only saying so much. For the first few weeks of classes, while our actual school is still being built, we are a "combined school," meaning we are borrowing a few classrooms from the nearby primary school. As a result we have to condense a lot. The different sections of Form A and B (aka grade 8 and 9) are combined into a single section, and Form D (grade 11) is just not coming to school at all for a few weeks.

From a personal perspective, the bad news is that I had a class of 60 Form A's today (I'm told this will be more like 100 once they all show up), in a room that would be better suited to hold 30. The good news is that instead of teaching 26 credits per week, right now I am only teaching 13. 'Tis a great way to ease in.

I wasn't too nervous as I entered my math class at around 9:30 this morning. I planned to lay down some ground rules, encourage them to participate in class, encourage them to tell me when I am speaking too fast, and then get through some pretty basic material. The class went fine, I suppose, but far from perfect. They were exceedingly shy; this is a problem throughout Lesotho classrooms, and exacerbated by this being their first day of secondary school. And, they indeed had a lot of trouble understanding me at times. I still need to work on speaking more slowly, clearly, and British-like. Getting an answer to a question was often like pulling teeth, but by the end of class, we had accomplished a decent amount.

In my science class this afternoon, I taught the same kids, and did something I considered very daring. I went against the customs of the school, of the entire country even, and told the students explicitly, "I dislike corporal punishment, and I am not going to hit you." Now, the teachers at school realize I'm not down with child beating, and despite some light prodding ("Come on, you know you're going to hit them, wait till you see Mare do it, you'll want to do it!"), they have no choice but to respect my stance. Still, there's a difference between us teachers knowing I'll never do it, but still being able to hold it over the kids as a threat, and the kids knowing I won't do it. I've sensed in the past, though, that part of students' reluctance to speak in class is for fear of punishment for wrong answers, and I want more than anything for my students to participate, to keep their minds active, and to think. So, in the interest of learning, I showed my cards.

I expected the kids to be really excited and relieved to hear the good news. But, sadly, they just stared at me blankly.

So, what went wrong?

(a) They're so overwhelmed by being in secondary school that they just were soaking it all in.

(b) I completely misread the situation.

(c) I just said the whole thing too fast and they heard gibberish.

(d) All of the above.

Ha ke tsebe. Who knows. In any case, the rest of the class went fine, but apparently 8th grade science in Lesotho is far less interesting than say, college physiology in the states. I taught them what a thermometer is.

I waited for science class to end, and when no teacher came at the start of the next period, I was confused. 10 minutes after class was supposed to be over, I walked out, went to the teachers' room, and asked if anyone was supposed to be teaching. No one had any idea, but upon consulting the master schedule, one teacher smirked, stood up, grabbed some chalk and hurried over to the class. I laughed. Though there is clearly room to improve efficiency, I love the laid back culture here. That said, I suspect we'll run a relatively tight ship at our school, which would be great for the kids.

My coworkers are all very nice, and the lunch the school served today (rice and some kind of gravy made of pasta and carrots and potatoes) was solid. Teachers get to eat on glass plates with real silverware. The students bring their own bowls to receive their lunch. Bowls range from actual bowls, to half-melted old plates, to cut-in-half soda bottles, to old plastic bags. For utensils, it's usually just your hand, but I did occasionally see a plastic spoon, and one girl used her ruler (watching her eat rice with gravy with a ruler out of an old plastic bag was kinda sad).

The only homework I assigned was to write down one question you have about anything, and one thing you want to accomplish this year. My hope is that they'll all have questions for me that they otherwise would be too timid to ask. During practice teaching, this was pretty effective, but those were all pretty serious students, so we'll see.

Today I taught two 80-minute periods, and I had lots of down time. Tomorrow I only teach 2 40-minute periods, so, I'll bring a book to read. Despite some challenges, so far, so good.

(written at various times over the past few days)

- I love being shut in my room when its pouring rain outside. This is the only time it feels cool in my room, and the tin roof makes it seem 10x more intense than it actually is. It's extremely soothing somehow - despite some really heavy rains so far, it has yet to cross over into irritating. Granted, I have not yet had to pee during a rainstorm, I guess it's only a matter of time. My latrine is a good 30 second walk from my door, and Peace Corps staff misplaced my pee bucket during moving. So my opinion on the rain might change when that day comes. I should probably just invest in a new pee bucket.

- My African peanut butter consumption rate (PBCR) has hovered around +/- 10% of my American PBCR. On a related note, a warm shout out to my sweet sweet mother for mailing me Reese's.

- There is a legend here that Michael Jackson is from Leribe, a district in the north of Lesotho. There is another legend that Barack Obama is from another district called Mafeteng. No explanation where these legends came from.

- This week has been quite boring, but I guess I could call it formative boredom. I was forced to explore the area a bit, walk down to the closest town, Morija (about 45 minutes), and climb a mountain with no idea how easy it would be or how long it would take. I also sat out on the curb of the main road to fill out some paperwork, just to invite small talk from locals walking by.

- On the other hand, I was so bored I played Freecell using an actual deck of cards. I was also so bored that I started a thread of facebook messages with other PCV's titled "I'm so bored I..." We all seem to have similar stories while we're waiting for our jobs to start.

- I really, really hate when I can hear the mosquito flying around my head in the dark at night, and can't find it.

- I have a really cute, hyperactive 4 year old neighbor named Selobelo. She speaks Sesotho faster than any 4 year old I've seen, and I barely understand her. Today I was hanging out with her and she joyfully started doing the dance move where you put your hands on the ground behind you, and launch your hips up and down in the air. It felt very much like watching the end of Little Miss Sunshine, but more lewd, and with an even younger girl. I wanted very much to stop looking, but she was grinning at me as she did it, wanting my approval. So I watched, kind of, and applauded.

- Procrastinating writing lesson plans as a teacher feels very much like procrastinating doing homework as a student, except I never had this blog to write on when I was a student.

By the way, school starts tomorrow morning. Should be quite an experience. Our school isn't built yet, so we'll be combining classes and condensing everything into 3 spare rooms in the nearby primary school for the first couple weeks. Also, something like 70% of the kids show up on the first day usually.

(written 1/11)

The last few days have been really great. Got sworn in as a volunteer (I'm not a trainee anymore), got to attend the annual All Volunteer Conference, which was at times boring but overall a great way to meet the rest of Peace Corps Lesotho, and got to partake in some pretty great parties (albeit parties that end at 11:30pm, but they start at 6pm so it seems much later (side note: this timetable fits harmoniously with my pre-existing love of happy hour back stateside (I miss happy hour))).

As of today, though, I'm at my site for good. I am not allowed to leave the Maseru district for the first 3 months. School doesn't start till next Monday. I don't know many people here yet, and I have nothing to do. My house is about 100 degrees inside at the height of the day. So, I'm not sure how I'll get through the next week, but I'll figure it out.

For now, a couple more anecdotes.

So as I mentioned, it's my first real day at site. I woke up a few hours ago, tried to wrap my mind around what I will do all day and how I will escape the oppressive heat of my room that will arrive soon. I leisurely made breakfast.

11:00 am: A nice kid named Relebohile (translation: We are thankful) has knocked on my door, saying "I just wanted to see you." He's a Form C (10th grade) student at my school, and has heard about me. We talk for a while. In the course of our conversation, I mention to him that WWE is fake, and I can literally see his heart break. Poor guy... though the fact that he has a TV at all makes him EXTREMELY privileged here.

6:00 pm: A torrential downpour has come along in the past 20 minutes. I'm holed up deep inside my room, whose tin roof is exceedingly loud in the rain (I find this very relaxing). A very beautiful teenage(ish) girl has just knocked on my door. I am unsure what she could be doing here in this massive storm. Though, throughout the day students from my school have been coming by to introduce themselves to me, so perhaps she's doing the same. But no, I quickly realize I'm wrong - she speaks absolutely no English, and she does not go to my school. After some awkward stumbling over my poor Sesotho, I understand that she wants to give me the umbrella she has with her. Evidently it belongs to my host mother, who is not on the premises. So she hands me the umbrella and walks away into the storm. I yell at her that perhaps this is not the ideal time to relinquish the umbrella, but she just smiles and continues on.

More to come...

(written today!)

So, this is a pretty sweet part of training, in that I’m doing virtually nothing. Between my return from visiting my new site and January 5, we have occasional training sessions surrounded by huge amounts of free time. We spend it wandering around Maseru a bit, but mostly at the training center. We play cards, volleyball, and wiffleball, watch movies, enjoy some local beverages, dance around, and generally come up with random crap to do. One guy made a fire pit and a makeshift hookah. We sleep 6 people to a room. Long story short, my regret of having never gone to summer camp as a kid feels largely redeemed. It’s pretty hard to find a difference between this and Wet Hot American Summer (just watched that by the way, great movie). Except that we’re in the Kingdom In The Sky, I suppose.

And now, a couple other stories I forgot about from earlier.

On one of our last days at CBT, we had a potluck with everyone staying in Maqhaka. Adam and Shanthi and I decided to make a homemade gnocchi with cheese sauce, following a recommendation from some other volunteers that it's extremely easy to make. This turned out to be a big lie, and we ended up very, very late to the potluck. Carrying a huge pot of pasta, we decided to run down the mountain (normally a 20 minute walk) to reach the place a little faster. We figured, we're usually dripping sweat after arriving anywhere as is, so why not. But, the air is very thin here, and pretty quickly we found ourselves gasping, so we periodically stopped to walk. One of th etimes we stopped, we happened to pass by two of the girls we knew from around the village, probably 10 years old. They saw me panting, and a girl named Morongwe, carrying a sack over her shoulder, yelled out to me "Abuti Mpho, u khathetse joalo ka fariki!" (Eric, you are tired like a pig!) I turned around a bit in disbelief. I figured I heard her wrong, and I asked her "Fariki? Hobaneng fariki?" (Why pig?) A huge grin broke over both of their faces, and they started slapping the sack on Morongwe's back. The giggled as the sack started convulsing and squealing. Evidently, Morongwe was carrying a piglet in a sack down the mountain. We laughed, caught our breaths for another moment, and kept on running and laughing about the poor pig in a sack.

My host family from CBT gave me a few gifts before I left. It was really sweet, I got a shirt, a hand-painted crafts thing with scenes from traditional Basotho culture, and a nice little analog alarm clock. The clock is hilarious – you set the alarm for when the HOUR hand reaches the spot you want, and the alarm sounds when it gets somewhere in the neighborhood of 10-15 minutes of the time you set. To me, this is so Lesotho. Maybe it’s all of Africa, I’m not sure. But the concept of time is just so different here. Punctuality and deadlines are extremely loose, and an alarm clock that rings +/- 15 minutes from when you are supposed to hear it is so representative of the entire culture.

That guy Pule I wrote about before turns out to be a creep. Apparently he doesn’t work for the school at all, but he does like to tell people he does. He then follows this up by telling people the principal has sent him to request money for various fake reasons. My Vice Principal tipped me off about this, so, I’ll keep an eye out. As long as I know, I mean, I guess he’s still a nice guy.

In other news, my family in my new home has decided to give me a new Sesotho name, so I think I’m no longer Mpho. I’m now Refiloe, same as my little sister from CBT.

These were taken by my friend Ryan, another trainee who has a sweet camera and apparently a really good system for uploading pics. Not sure if I'm in many of these, I've barely looked, but overall they depict PC Lesotho life pretty well.

http://ryanmcclaine.com/pictures

(written 12/27/09)

Whew, big day today. After spending the past few days hanging out/playing games at the PC training center, I woke up today at 6am to leave for my new home in Masite Nek. I am spending two days here, settling in, meeting people, and learning the village, before going back to Maseru for 2 final weeks of training. A group of 6 shared one van headed south from Maseru, loaded up with all our crap, plus many bags of non-perishable food (this is the one time we take a private car to site, so we stocked up a bit). Since I live pretty close to Maseru, I was the first stop, and I was in my new house by 8am. I spent the day touring Masite Nek and neighboring Basotho cultural hub Morija, unpacking, and playing darts (!!!). I’ll get back to this more, but first, the rundown on my new abode.

Masite Nek is a small village, 30k from the capital, Maseru. My host family lives on a nice sized property. I realized after calling my last property ½ an acre that I have a terrible concept of acreage, and that it was a good bit smaller than that. This, on the other hand, is probably ½ an acre or more. We are situated at the intersection of two pretty “major” roads, but the houses are set back from the road (that I live on a PAVED road is mind-boggling; that there two is doubly so). I look out from my front door onto rows and rows of peach trees, maize, beans, butternut squash, and watermelon, all surrounded by some nice flowers (sorry my flower describing skills are lacking, but they’re quite pretty). None of the crops are very big right now. I imagine it will be even more beautiful when it gets near time to harvest. There are small mountains in the not-too-far distance. In fact, I’ll be climbing one every morning to get to my school.

My home is one room, maybe 12x14’, occupying one side of an L-shaped house. Plenty of room. Good, new-looking furniture, full bed, 3-burner stove, space heater for winter. I have no running water or electricity, but the water pump is 10 feet from my door, and I’ll probably install a solar power rig. I will get a water filtration system soon (for now I am just boiling my drinking water, and might start straining it through a t-shirt cuz it looks a bit chunky). My roof is tin, meaning it’s extra hot in the summer, extra cold in the winter. The other side of the L is divided into three rooms. One room is shared by two students from my school (haven’t met them yet). One room is for another teacher from my school (met briefly, nice guy). Then, the third room! The third room is completely empty, except for what looks like a beat up bench from a school bus in one corner, and in the opposite corner, an old, filthy, glorious, honest to god, dart board. I. Am. So. Happy. About. This. Dart. Board. I thought I’d given up darts for two years, but tonight I played a few games with my Ntate (host father), who is pretty nasty at it. I won one game out of three, which should be enough to keep him wanting to play.

Earlier in the day I toured around Masite Nek and Morija with my Ntate and two people from my new school. First I was taken to the moreneng (village chief’s house) to meet the chief. We walked up to the front of this small, traditional style house to find a group of men circled around a young man speaking. I was informed we were witnessing a court case of some kind. The chief was in the circle playing the role of judge in the hearing. Sadly, I couldn’t understand much of the Sesotho, except for catching the guy saying “I did not know” something something. I later saw the local police station (very quaint) and hospital (surprisingly decent). I also saw the Morija Guest House, a nice bed and breakfast with a beautiful view, where I was treated very nicely. Note, if you come visit me, and don’t want to rough it, you can stay here, it’s pretty sweet.

This afternoon I started walking around my street, and somehow became friends with a guy named Pule, who drives a bus at my school. We stopped by the shopong (small shop), which is one minute from my house. The shopong owner is very cool, and speaks good English. I bought a soda, and he, Pule, and I talked for a while as I drank it. I was surprised to find that he has a freezer, and he sells a few frozen meats. I told him I was excited because I expected to be unable to keep meat around my house without a fridge, so now at least I can eat frozen chicken. He told me any time I buy meat at a grocery store in Maseru, I can store it in his freezer. This is huge. I am pumped. I had heard this can happen if you befriend your local shopong guy, but I figured it would take a lot of schmoozing. I think I’ll buy some ground beef and make us a couple cheeseburgers to say thanks.

So now, Jerry Springer’s Final Thought. There are a lot of forms that being happy with your site can take. Some people got placed in the middle of huge, breathtaking mountains. Some people are near a lake. Some got running water and/or electricity, or a three room house. One guy actually has everything I just listed. For me, I’ll be less than an hour from the capital, and visiting other volunteers will be pretty quick because of my location. But on a daily basis, I’m still completely in my own world (and I love being lost in my own world, heh heh). I’m walking distance from a very nice town, Morija. I live on a beautiful property, I’ll be teaching at a pretty nice, sparkling new school, I have good furniture in my house, I have a freaking dart board, and great competition in my Ntate. So, long story short, I’m very pleased.

(written 12/23/09)

I just got back to Maseru from CBT. The goodbye was nice – my family gave me some gifts and cards, and made a nice dinner for me and a couple other trainees. It was kind of sad to leave but presently I’m happy to be relaxing on a couch watching TV shows off someone’s computer.

There was another story I meant to write about the other day, which took place about 1.5 weeks ago. I had just gotten home from a long day and the sun was about to set. We never go anywhere after dark (because that’s when bad things happen, I’m told), but that day some of the girls who live with me, as well as Ntate Spice and my tiny brother and sister, told me we were going for a walk. After walking for about 10 minutes we reached an open area where there were tons of local children (ages prob 7-15) lined up in rows, with a few guys in front. Ntate Spice joined the guys in front, and they began to play some makeshift drums and a pretty beat up accordian (accordian music is strangely popular here). The kids broke into a pretty nice step dance – as it turns out this is a nightly ritual they have this time of year in preparation for some X-mas dances.

I was very entertained by the show, but they were more entertained by my presence. When the song ended, with the sun setting, they called me over to the front group. Everyone immediately surrounded me in a circle 3-4 people deep. Ntate Spice started rapping in Sesotho, and everyone suddenly shouted at me to dance. I have no idea what Spice was rapping about but presumably it had something to do with me. I had no interest in dancing but I also had no excuse, so… I indulged them a bit and they were ecstatic. It’s a funny dynamic of being revered on one hand and seen as a clown on the other.

So, that was a fun time. Now, here are a couple pictures from CBT I’ll hopefully be able to upload:

- View from my house at CBT

- Me and Tota, one of the best students in my science class

- Wow, look, it’s a lekhooa (white foreigner), and he’s drinking water!

- A very famous mountain, viewed from the top of another historical mountain called Thaba Bosiu. The first and 2nd kings of Lesotho are buried on Thaba Bosiu, and the mountain seen here (whose name no one here can remember, oops) is the inspiration for Basotho hat (google search Basotho hat to see what I mean)

- One of my little brothers, Bataung, enjoying the camera

- My 4 year old sister, Refiloe (coolest 4 year old ever), and I

- Hordes of bana (kids) from my hood. Girl with facepaint is my nextdoor neighbor Relebohile (coolest 10 year old ever. Seems to do everything exceptionally well. For example can throw a rock farther/more accurately than any American here), carrying my 2 year old brother Morapeli.

OK I have all the pictures loaded on, I really hope they show up... here we go.

(actually written 12/21/09)

WARNING – THIS IS A LONG ENTRY. IF YOU GET BORED READING LONG ENTRIES, READ A LITTLE BIT NOW, AND COME BACK ANOTHER TIME FOR MORE. IT’S MOSTLY A SERIES OF SHORT STORIES ANYWAY SO YOU DON’T REALLY NEED THE CONTINUITY.

I’m in my bed right now, up much later than usual, and it feels like a good time to write. It’s very dark here, but I can hear a mosquito buzzing around my ear. I already have one bite on my foot from the past 15 minutes – I hope I can find it before I fall asleep, or I might be in for a long night of getting feasted on. Though I think there would be far more than one mosquito in any other African country, and I’d be worried about malaria, so I shouldn’t complain.

I have just 2 days left in Maqhaka, before going back to the training center in Maseru. Overall this is a good thing, but while I’m eager to get on with Peace Corps, it will be pretty sad to say goodbye to my host family. They have all been wonderful. My host mother won’t stop making me food and doing my laundry by hand, even though I’m supposed to be learning to do these things on my own. The other day I told her she didn’t have to to my laundry because I’d soon be back in Maseru where I could use a washing machine. She looked so genuinely sad that I finally said “Well, if you REALLY WANT to wash my clothes, you can.” She very quickly said “Yes! I want to,” and so now I’ll be the only trainee going back to Maseru with all clean clothes (and a still unopened box of laundry detergent to boot). I will miss all the kids, too, especially my little 4 year old sister Refiloe. She is nuts, in the greatest possible sense of the word. Most days I’ll come home after training, exhausted and dripping sweat. She’ll run from the house down the hill halfway to meet me, screaming and shouting with excitement. Sometimes there’s a little jig involved. When I say hello, she’ll turn around and run away from me back up to the house, screaming even more. I just laugh, and when I get to the house, we talk in our common tongue, 4 year old Sesotho. I’m going to try to post a photo, we’ll see if it works.

I’m also going to really miss the top of the mountain where I live. If I walk about 20 minutes uphill from my house, I reach a beautiful view and some really nice breeze. Then, there is a little cave that is absolutely perfect - in the shade, strong breeze, hanging high above the entire village. It’s proven a great spot for other trainees and me to get together, but I also spent this past Sunday laying there by myself, drawing, and overall just unwinding in a way I haven’t found since I left America.

So, here’s a few quick anecdotes from CBT.

- One of my favorite people here is a guy probably around my age, who played a big role in the welcome ceremony when we first arrived in Maqhaka. He danced around a lot and wore a wizard hat. We all assumed he was drunk, and maybe he was. Anyway, for whatever reason, he has dubbed himself Ntate (Mister/Sir) Spice, or, he also will respond to the name “Barbecue” (pronounced ba-ba-CUE). Among all the jolly Basotho we meet every day, he stands out as one of the jolliest. He has a weird quirk in which, when we walk around through the village and pass by people, he frequently yells his name at them. Along the lines of, “Hello, how are you? I am good! Babacue!” This is all in Sesotho - his English is virtually non-existent. Strangely enough, I also met a guy the other day who goes by the name Ntate Carrots, and shares the same name-shouting compulsion.

- Somehow a lot of Basotho got the idea that “bye bye” means “hello.” I’m not sure where this came from. Almost every day, Adam, Shanthi (two other trainees) and I walk by certain houses, and whole groups of kids stop us by name, and shout “Abuti Mpho [that’s my name]! Bye bye!” Some adults do it too.

- Another confusing language story – on many nights when I’ve headed to my house to go to bed, the kids have said something to me that has made me stop in my tracks. They speak their child Sesotho, and they say something that sounds like “Barack Obama Not.” On multiple occasions, I’ve just burst out laughing, and struggled unsuccessfully to figure out what he has to do with anything. I ask them why Barack Obama, they look confused, and I go to bed. Then this past week in Sesotho class we learned a bit about pronoun classes, and I put it together to figure out they’re actually saying – boroko bomonate, which means sleep well. This is now my favorite phrase in Sesotho.

- This evening we had a pot luck dinner at a trainer’s house. Adam, Shanthi and I brought homemade gnocchi with a tomato/cheese sauce, which was swell. We walked home afterwards with leftovers in a big blue pot, which drew a lot of attention (not that my white skin isn’t already a huge neon sign, but this is beside the point). A group of bo-ntate (grown men) sitting on some steps asked us what it was. We said food, they asked to see, we showed them, they asked to try it. We didn’t want to give them any, lest they get greedy and want the whole thing, so I tried to quickly come up with some plausible excuse. Without thinking, I told them in Sesotho, “Uhhh, sorry, we have to bring this food to our mothers.” The funny thing is, this worked perfectly. This got me thinking what a different world I’m living in, that you get approached on the street at twilight by a group of men who want your [leftovers], and the best defense is to [say you’re giving it to your mom]. Feels like a Mad Libs to me.

Oh, also, I found out where I’ll be living and working the next two years! I’m in the Maseru district (didn’t see this coming at all, pretty cool), about 30 km from the capital, in a small village called Masite Nek. I’ll be teaching at Thuto Ke Leseli Secondary School, which is a new, government-run school, just opened in 2007. I spoke with a teacher there who told me her classes were 120 students last year, which is frightening, but I have a couple reasons to think this year they’ll be smaller. We’ll see!

Finally, Merry Christmas/Happy New Year everyone

quick update - apparently the uploading of pictures is not working very well. ill try again as soon as i can. sorry everyone. at least you can see one picture. bah.

(written 12/11/09)

So, I forgot to upload those pictures last time. Oops. Here they are.

Today was the last day of our practice teaching at Berea High School. It was a very productive and very memorable experience. The students were fantastic. First off, their willingness to come to school during the summer, to get a jump start on next year’s material and to help us PC trainees get some practice – that was impressive (though possibly only for lack of anything better to do). But also, their genuine interest in the material, their energy, their discipline, their general good nature – it made teaching a blast. I had students come find me after school to ask extra questions about biology that were on their mind. I had students ask to stay late at the end of the day to finish our statistics activity. They showed up to take 6 exams in one day on Wednesday, came back Thursday to see how they did and review, then came in today for goodbyes, pictures, and an assembly which featured giving of prizes to the top scorers and some songs/speeches. I gave closing remarks at the assembly on behalf of the PC folks. I told the kids how great they were and how much we would miss them. I’ll be totally shocked if my permanent school has such great students.

So with that in mind, here are 2 pictures of me and some of my favorite students. The girl in the picture, Tsepang, was particularly fun. Interesting story, though – one day she had her head down on her desk in the middle of class. I walked up to her desk to wake her up. Her friend next to her frantically got her up first. I reached her desk, pointed a finger at her, and said something to the effect of “Hey – no sleeping.” As soon as I raised my hand, though, she leapt back in her chair with a horrified look on her face. I realized she thought I was going to hit her. Corporal punishment is brutal in Lesotho, and it is everywhere. She’s been ingrained to think that when a teacher approaches to discipline her with a hand in the air, she’s about to feel a lot of pain (case in point, in my other class, which had just 9 kids, 2 have previously had their hands broken from corporal punishment). I felt bad for freaking her out, and apologized to her later in the day. By then she didn’t seem too concerned, and from that point she actually blossomed to be one of the more active students I had. And she asked me to take that picture with her, today, so, I guess it’s alright.

Another funny story about teaching. A lot of us asked our students on the last day to write things they liked and didn’t like about our classes. One kid named Simon, a really bright senior, wrote the following: “…Anyway, wherever you go, May you stil remember us, The more I say the more My heart break and tears caescad down my cheeks. Stil love you and Thank you for doing your work excellently!” Of course, I felt great after reading this. But a short while later I had a conversation with my friend Kimiko, another volunteer. This is what she said: “Eric, I was just talking to Simon, you know what he said? He told me he loves me, and when he thinks of me leaving his heart breaks, and tears cascade down his cheeks!” My eyes were wide. I was astonished, amused, slightly betrayed. I thought his heart only broke for me. But hey, what could I do… I showed her what he wrote me, and we had a good laugh. THEN, at the assembly today, another student from that class, Tanki, gave a speech. In his speech, he said “We love you, and when we think of you leaving, our hearts break more and more.” Again, I laughed, and rolled my eyes. Perhaps it was all totally sincere, but it was pretty silly, to say the least. In any case… really great kids, I’m very glad to have met them.

So… if you aren't interested in hearing about the food here, just skip this post.   But hopefully you are.   Overall, the food has been decent. Some very good, some very bad.   The thanksgiving feast the other day was awesome, and those 2 bites of zebra I got were pretty special. Very tender, and the way it was prepared, the whole thing ended up tasting a lot like Jewish brisket. (Story: The guy who brought the zebra says he shot it at a legal game reserve in South Africa a few months ago. He donated 700 pounds of it to an orphanage, and kept the tenderloin in a freezer for a few months, before using it for thanksgiving. Pretty noble use of a zebra carcass.)   Makoeneas (Ma-QUEN-yahz) – Street/junk food. Deep fried "fat cakes," which is almost exactly like a giant munchkin, but served hot. Very tasty.   Papa – The #1 staple of the Basotho diet. Here's how you make it. Boil water. Add corn meal until it turns very thick. Stir it with a big wooden stick. Add a shitload more corn meal. The whole thing is now like a very thick dough. Cover, heat, and let the bottom almost burn. Stir some more – this now requires a lot of elbow grease. That's papa. It's about as exciting as white rice.   Samp – Another corn-based starch, but it's totally superior to papa. I love it. I'm not sure how it's made, but I think it is full of cream. Probably my favorite Basotho food.   Lesheleshele (Li-SHELL-ay-SHELL-ay) – A pretty common breakfast food. Hot porridge, made from sorghum. Nothing special, but very edible. I've started adding instant coffee to it just to give it some flavor. I don't think this is how the Basotho do it, but I eat it alone in my room so no one knows.   Bohobe (Bow-HOE-bee) – Basotho bread. Not totally sure how it's made, but I know it takes a lot of work, and it is steamed in a kettle. It is very dense, doughy, and served in thick slices. Pretty delicious when fresh, but merely edible thereafter.   Moroho – cooked vegetables – a pretty broad term. At our training facility, it's a mix of cabbage and onions and carrots, which tastes way better than I'd ever expect. At my CBT house, it is some sort of steamed and chopped greens. I don't know what it is that my 'Me ('Me = mother) adds to this to make it taste so awful, but it is pretty harsh. I think it might be sulfuric acid (only half-kidding).   Dessert – A common dessert this sort of layered dish, which has pudding, jello, pudding, jello, fruit, pudding, and graham cracker. Looks nasty, sounds nasty, tastes surpsingly good.   When you are sitting on a bus/taxi/kombi at the taxirank (taxi depot) waiting for it to fill up before departing (which can take a LONG time), you are continually offered to buy things by street vendors who walk around the area. The other day I bought a 4-pack of what is basically a sweet English muffin, for 3 rand (~$0.40). Delicious carbs.   Yesterday, by the way, my 'Me served me a lunch that was that H2SO4 moroho, papa, and some kind of sardine stew. My feeling of obligation forced me to swallow three bites of sardine stew, but after that I gave up. It is with full confidence that I say it was the most offensive food I've ever eaten. Sorry, 'Me Ilina. Anyway, afterwards I gave her a blanket "I don't eat fish," so I think I'm good from here on out.   Also, mutton is very common here. I've had it in chops, in cubes, and in a sausage. The sausage is the best. It tastes very much like lamb, only less good.   Aside from the above foods, I do eat a good amount of apples, bananas, salad, some pasta, chicken… "normal" things like that. Right now, the things I miss the most are pizza, buffalo wings, and bacon. I think pizza is #1. Oh, except for ice cubes.

So, now you know a little about what life is like during CBT. But I have not discussed at all how super awesome it is living here. Maqhaka is a pretty spread out village. I live about 2/3 of the way up a mountain. Other trainees living here are about a 30-35 minute walk away, down the mountain, through the village center, past the chief's house, and then down another hill. I've seen where everyone else lives, and I honestly think I have the best housing situation of the bunch.   My family's property is pretty large (maybe ½ an acre?). On the property you will find donkeys, cows, pigs, dogs, cats, chickens (+ baby chicks), and ducks. The larger animals are penned in irregular brick rectangles, which somehow make it all feel classy. The birds/dogs/cats just wander around. The property is on a slope, and as you look down the angle of the mountain, the view of the valley below, and the chain of mountains beyond, is stunning (see picture below, taken from the side of my house).   My house, which I love, is detached from my host family's. It's surprisingly spacious, and it has a cone-shaped, thatched roof. The thatched roof is pretty highly sought after, both for its aesthetics and for the way it keeps the house cooler in the summer (tin roof = oven). I have a queen sized bed. Another trainees said his host parents literally gave him their bed, and are sleeping on the floor where their bed had been previously. I have not checked whether my host parents still have a bed, but it wouldn't surprise me… they treat me very well.   So, that's all well and good, but really the best part about living here is the Basotho kids. The stoop outside my door is one of the main hangouts for the little kids around the area. I have a few "brothers and sisters" of my own (somewhere between 3-7, not sure which ones actually live here, and which are just neighbors… it's hard to tell, just trust me). They are all completely in awe of me, they love to just stand and stare (see below). When I come home from the school or Sesotho class with my friend Adam (another trainee who lives next door), the kids flock to us, with huge grins on their faces. Some of the older ones like to try to speak to us in English, but it's very limited. We speak very basic Sesotho, roughly equivalent to that of the 5 year olds we meet. We try to find ways to play with them, by tossing a ball, or drawing pictures of common things and them teaching us the Sesotho words. Oh, and these kids LOVE my camera. They flip out every time I take their pictures. Man… the kids are so damn cute (see below – their names are Lerato, Refiloe, and Batiung). I'll definitely miss them when CBT ends.

(Entry actually written 12/1/09)   Lumelang (Good morning). It's Tuesday morning, 7 am, and I have a few minutes before I have to go to my first day practice teaching with real students. I am at Community-Based Training right now, which means I am living with a host family in my own detached house, in a small village, for 3 weeks. There's no electricity here, so what I've decided to do is to write quick entries on my computer, transfer them to a flash drive, then upload them whenever I find the chance to go to an internet café.   So, it's really nice finally getting outside the training facility for a while. I am in a village called Maqhaka (the "qh" is pronounced as a click, by the way), in the Berea district. My new name, so I'm told, is Mpho Moqasane (the q is a click here, too).   …   … OK it is now 7 pm. I had to run this morning, but now I'm able to write more, after a pretty long but very enjoyable day. As you probably know, I was brought into PC as a Math teacher (or Maths teacher, as they say here). As part of training, we spend 1.5 weeks practice teaching, with real live high school students as our audience (we pay them in cookies or chips). I'm now being groomed to teach both math and science. This is good news to me - I think teaching science will be a lot of fun. Today was our first day practice teaching. I had two classes today, one where I taught stats, and one the circulatory system. I was pretty excited for both of these, and both went quite well, especially for a first day. In the stats class, we compiled a data set by throwing a crumpled piece of paper at a target on the wall, and documenting how accurate students were. They had a lot of fun doing it. Unfortunately for them, the fun is over, and tomorrow we use the results to actually do math (evil laugh). They'll still get cookies though, so that's good.   So, a quick rundown of what today was like: Wake up at 5:30. Bucket bathe. Eat breakfast. Leave for school at 7:10. Teach, watch other PC trainees teach, come home at 1:30. Eat lunch. Go to Sesotho class, 2-3:30. Come home, play a Basotho game called moraba raba (something like Tic-tac-toe meets Chess meets Othello). Goof around with all the little kids who love to stare at me and laugh and play simplistic games. Plan lessons for a few hours…. And now I'm here. All that's left is some dinner, made by my host mother, and some reading in bed until I fall asleep.  It has come to my attention recently that long posts intimidate blog readers, so I'm going to cut this off here. I'll write more "later" in a separate post.

Hello Ladies and Men! I am alive and well in Lesotho. I've spent almost the entire time so far at the Peace Corps Training Facility in Maseru. The group of trainees is great, and it has so far been a fantastic (though at times overwhelming) experience. We attend class each day from 8am-5pm, on average – topics range from safety, to culture, to how to teach, to how to speak Sesotho. Learning Sesotho is a lot of fun, but it's pretty tough. I am getting a little better at clicking.

 

Tomorrow morning I'll be moving to the Berea district for 3 weeks of Community Based Training (CBT). There I'll be living in my own small house, under the supervision of a host family. I'll spend the marjority of the time there practice teaching, continuing to attend classes, and getting to know my family and my village. I am told I will attract huge amounts of attention, particularly from local children.

 

I don't have much time now to recount many stories of my first 2.5 weeks of PC service, but I can say that I ate slow roasted zebra tenderloin last night at a thanksgiving feast/party. It was delicious. In other news, this country is beautiful, the Basotho people are exceedingly jolly, and they sing to us on a daily basis. Nothing makes a Mosotho happier than when you speak to them (usually poorly) in Sesotho. The HIV/AIDS problems in Lesotho are staggering – the 24% statistic you will read is a major understatement. The cultural views on AIDS are at times disorienting – I've heard that it is sometimes regarded as a conspiracy, and called "American Idea Discouraging Sex." I've also heard that one of the medications given to infected people has become very popular for recreational use. It is so popular that uninfected people borrow infected people's blood samples to fake having HIV, just to get the drugs. Or, even worse – they just infect themselves on purpose.

 

Sorry for that downer, I am really enjoying this country, and I can't wait till the training wheels start to come off. I gotta run, lots to do tonight getting ready for CBT and all. Hope to write again soon, and one day get to sit down and read my emails. Not sure when that will be… Hope y'all are doing well back home.

 

Also, if Dustin's mother is reading this, you've raised a very nice young boy, and he sends you his love.   Salang hantle (Be well)!

...Damn right, it's better than yours.

Just kidding, it probably isn't, since I'm brand new at this. But whatever. Hi everyone. I'm sitting here on a quiet Wednesday evening in NYC, setting up my blog in hopes that I can keep it going when once I join Peace Corps. I leave in a little less than one month, and needless to say, I'm pretty darn excited.

On November 11, I'll be flying to Maseru, Lesotho, to begin a few months of PC training. Following that training, I'll begin teaching secondary level math somewhere in the tiny mountain kingdom, as it's called. Not sure where exactly, but I'll know soon enough.

Some Lesotho fun facts, which I might have told you already:

- Lesotho established independence from Britain in 1966.

- Lesotho is approximately 30,000 sq km, or roughly the size of my home state of Maryland.

- Lesotho is bordered to the South by South Africa. To the north, it is bordered by South Africa. It is bordered to the East by South Africa, and to the West by South Africa (Only 2 other countries in the world are landlocked within a single country - Vatican City and San Marino).

- Lesotho has the highest female literacy rate in Africa, but also one of the highest rates of HIV/AIDS in the world.

- Lesotho is the only country in the world to exist entirely over 1000 m elevation. It has the highest low point of any country, and is home to two of Africa's four ski resorts.

- The name Lesotho (pronounced Leh-SOO-too) translates roughly to "The Land of the People Who Speak Sesotho." It's people are known as Mosotho (singular) or Basotho (plural).

So, I might make another post or two before I leave, or maybe not. Over the next couple years, I hope this page will be a fun and useful way to keep in contact with everyone back home, or wherever else. And for you to stay in contact with me! Note the comments section below every post. That's for you, dear family member, or vague acquaintance who I haven't spoken to in a while, or fortunate person who reached this page in error!

If you're still reading, here's to hoping I have access to electricity and internet in Lesotho, at least sometimes. I'll do my best to keep everyone updated about my adventures. Thanks for reading, don't be afraid to leave a comment!