My last post from Africa.

What an incredible two years and a fantastic vacation.

Updates from last time:

I completed my graduate school application - University of Minnesota's Masters in Development Practice program... it felt so good to get that submitted! It was pretty neat being able to write about my experiences in Lesotho for something other than a blogpost. I now have to wait for a month or two to find out, but I think I'll be pretty busy readjusting to life at home, so it certainly won't preoccupy my mind.

On Thursday I went driving around the Cape Point peninsula with friends - Kalk Bay, nice beaches, Chapman's Peak and Cape Point (not necessarily in that order though). The first time I was here we drove down to Cape Point but, as cheap PCVs, opted not to go all the way to the point. This time we just did it. It was beautiful. Every once in a while along the drive to the point we'd see an ostrich neck and head popping up, looking around - they are so funny looking. No babboons but plenty of seagulls and even a couple seals.

That evening, I went out with (and stayed with) the girls on Long Street. Just another great part of Cape Town - very fun and I'm glad to have spent time on Long again. Then Friday (my last full day in Africa), I went around town, shopping for gifts for friends and souvenirs for myself. The vendors are so anxious to sell their wares, making friendly conversation... "Where are you from? How long have you been in Africa? ..." etc. They all seemed pretty impressed I'd been there so long and promised they were giving me the "African price," though I'm sure I still paid way too much for the stuff. On the minibus taxi back to Obs (where I've been staying), I apparently landed in the wrong seat. About five minutes after we started driving, people in the back started poking me in the back with their money and saying things in strange accents (the places they intended to get off the taxi). Usually in Lesotho I recognize the destinations but here I had no clue. I looked and felt like a tourist, but it was pretty funny.

Last night my gracious host and two other friends and I went to a beach to watch the sun set over Signal Hill. Stunning. I was pretty close to tears sitting there thinking back on my week and past two years, knowing it'd be my last evening in Africa for a while. Though Africa isn't perfect, it has become my home and I am really truly very sad to be leaving it without knowing when I may return. I've learned so much about myself and would not be the person I am today without it (I realize it sounds hokey, but it has never been more true). I love this place so much.

Almost time to finalize packing my bags and get a taxi to the airport... cross your fingers I make it on the flight tonight, then I'll be in Atlanta tomorrow morning and home in time for Sunday dinnner!

Thanks again for your love and support, sending my last bit of love from Africa...

-K

Greetings from Cape Town!

Last week Thursday (December 8th) I earned my R and my pin and became an RPCV (the R is for returned). That afternoon I left Lesotho for Bloemfontein to catch a bus to Cape Town.

I cannot believe my two years of service are over. They flew and dragged at the same time... so many ups and downs - even a few sideways - and finally I'm done in Lesotho. Really, words don't do the rollercoaster I've been on these two years any justice.

My last few weeks at site were pretty unbelievable. I felt like everything fell into place. I somehow managed to pack up, sell or give away all my belongings. Even selling and donating most of my clothes, it was a struggle to fit everything from my African life into my massive suitcase and backpack. The photos came down from my walls, leaving my house incredibly empty. I got rid of most of my American things and packed my many memories from my travels in Lesotho, South Africa, Mozambique, Swaziland and Tanzania.

My time in Cape Town has been very refreshing. I've been able to relax in a place that is not much like my life in Lesotho or the States. On Monday some friends and I did a wine tour and even though Mom and I did that tour when she was here in June, it was beautiful to see the vineyards in the summer (and nice to taste the wine again too!).

My flight out of Johannesburg is now scheduled for this Saturday (the stand-by numbers didn't look good for today or the rest of the week so I switched it to stay in Cape Town a while longer) and I'm crossing my fingers that they have a seat for me! For the rest of my time here I'll continue my relaxation stint, eat more delicious sushi, probably taste some more wine and just generally enjoy being on this crazy continent.

Thanks for all your reading support these past two years - I'll try to do a big post again at some point but for now my mind has been focused on my graduate school application, not so much on my blog!

Love from Africa,

-Katie

I can't believe today is the 1st of November already. Really, where has the time gone?

Last weekend I hosted several friends for my second annual Halloween weekend... it was considerably smaller than last year, but at this point in my service, I think it was the perfect size. We had mexican food - tons of beans, piles of rice, a loaf of cheese, veggies and guacamole. I'm pretty pleased with my ability to make a solid mexican meal... all from scratch. It'll be so much easier in the States where beans come in cans, tortillas come in packages... and the cheese comes pre-shredded!

My birthday was also last week. While celebrating almost any holiday in Africa is slightly strange (seasonal differences and lack of friends/family), it was a pretty good birthday. I taught my two classes (Wednesdays are nice, light days), went on a run, did my laundry, read some book and watched a movie. Nothing too extravagant but definitely enjoyable. A couple of my close Basotho friends at school sang me "Happy Birthday" (they know the song here, too!) and told me they'd have my present the next day. I assured them I didn't need anything but they insisted. On Monday morning (aka Thursday, in African time), they came to my house to present me with a ceramic plate, painted with a Mosotho woman carrying her baby toward their home, and the word Lesotho. It is absolutely beautiful and will come home with me for sure. (It even came with a stand to hold it up so I can proudly display it in America!)

Not too much else new has been going on. The weather is beautiful - sun almost every day except for the occasional windy and gray day. We haven't seen any real rain yet, which is going to be a HUGE problem for farmers and everyone else here. Usually by this time, we're well into the rainy season with a couple rainy days each week, but the weather has only been teasing us. It'll be really cloudy with wind, sometimes it even smells like rain, but then it may sprinkle, or it may just move on. The upside of that is that the mosquitoes haven't really come out yet, but there are enough flies to make up for it. The lack of rain is still very disappointing; I'm hoping for at least one good scary thunderstorm before I leave.

I'm still teaching, my students (I hope) are still learning... I'm definitely still missing home. In fact, it almost seems worse now that I only have just over 5 weeks left... It feels like the last stretch of a marathon, where you can see the finish and you know how far you've come, but you're just not there yet. I can envision myself landing in the Twin Cities (projected date: December 19th, possibly earlier) and coming down the escalator to see my family waiting for me... but that won't happen for a month and a half, and I have SO much to do in the meantime.

I've been selling some clothing items and some kitchen items but still have a long way to go before my belongings will all fit into two suitcases and a carry-on. A friend is coming this weekend to run and help me (hopefully finish) the paintings that were started 3-4 years ago by the first volunteer here... It shouldn't be too challenging since we'll just be redoing what she did, but for some reason it has taken me a long time to get the motivation to just go out there and do it. I've managed a couple coats of white, but there's still plenty to paint. I'm hoping to involve some students who did the project with her initially (that'd be a nice touch, don't you think?)

Today's lunch was samp, which I just can't stomach anymore. Most of the other teachers here are also tired of it, so I told them we'd have American lunch today: peanut butter and jelly sandwiches! I let them make their own (since everyone likes different pb:j ratios) and even though they totally skimped on the peanut butter, everyone thought they were a treat. Success!

Time now to go get ready for my afternoon class and reclaim whatever is left of the PB and J. Hope all is well at home (or wherever else you may be)... I'll be home for Christmas!!!

Love from Lesotho,

-Katie

Hey all,

I just wanted to post this story while I'm thinking about it (aka before I forget).

Yesterday afternoon the kids came. These are the most adorable Basotho children in my village; they come to my house after school is over to color with crayons or play with the bladder of a destroyed soccer ball, depending on the day. Yesterday it was four girls and they wanted to color and draw with pencils. I got out new pencils for each of them and grabbed my sharpener, a fancy "machine" that holds the shavings in a little plastic compartment, which you then empty. They all had sharp pencils and had drawn some lovely scribbles. After I had marked their drawings and given them stickers (as is our unspoken agreement), one little girl wanted to resharpen her pencil. Two of them got into a little tiff and soon the pencil sharpener had fell to the ground and popped open, scattering pencil shavings all over my porch. The little one began crying so I came out to show her it was fine - the sharpener was certainly not broken. She didn't seem to care about that; she was more concerned that my porch was dirty, so I grabbed my broom so she could sweep if she wanted to.

(Note: Basotho brooms are just small bundles of straw; they have to bend over to sweep. I got an upright broom when I first got here because I very much dislike bending over to sweep... I'm too tall)

The broom was at least twice as big as she was... another of the girls grabbed the broom and proceeded to sweep my entire porch, even under my bench and mat, giggling the whole time.

The little one (Reitumetse) had stopped crying and started giggling too (and there is nothing more adorable than a small child's giggle)... meanwhile the one sweeping started telling me, "M'e Katie, Rethabile (the one who had knocked the sharpener out of Reitumetse's hands) is a FOOOOOT!" I looked at her, pretty confused at what she meant by that; I pointed to my foot. She shook her head and repeated: "Rethabile is a FOOT!" Finally, Rethabile stepped in to defend herself and correct Papali. "No, 'M'e Katie, Papali is a FOOOOL." Oh. Fool. Of course. But this wasn't what Papali had in mind either... "No, Madam, Rethabile is a FOOOOD."

Even now, I'm not sure what any of them meant, but it was pretty cute.

Love from Lesotho,

-Katie

With less than two months to go, I find myself experiencing a range of emotions I don’t even understand. I’m excited to start selling things but nervous about how much packing room I’m going to have. I’m ready to be done teaching but now is the time that matters most for students – they need to pass their year-end exams or they have no chance at passing their grade. It’s practically summer so all I want to do is be outside but I can’t (duh); I have to teach. Most of all, I’m ready to go home, but I realize how much I’m going to miss this place and these people.

Two weeks ago was the farewell party for the external students who will be leaving us next year because hopefully they’ll be moving on to one university or another. Lots of preparations were made all day Wednesday: cleaning, cooking, sound-checking (because there was electricity at this year’s farewell!) and everything else you can imagine. Wednesday evening teachers and students were up late cooking chicken and pork (from the recently slaughtered pig from our piggery), making chaka-laka and the traditional ginger drink.

On Thursday morning, it was rainy but the teachers played the students in soccer anyway. I hadn’t played in a very long time but laced up my oldest tennis shoes and threw on a jersey… if it hadn’t been for the students on the teachers team, they would’ve completely decimated us. As it was, they beat us I think 3-1, but it was great fun. It always amazes me how much the boys of my Form A and B classrooms become men on the field.

After a quick bath and a rushed attempt to write a farewell speech fit for the entire school, I headed up to the hall for the farewell ceremony to begin. As an outgoing teacher, it was also my farewell. Many students participated: singing, dancing, reciting poems, acting out dramas and giving speeches.

When it came time for my speech, I was incredibly nervous. I have been speaking in front of 40 people every day for the past 2 academic years but now it was closer to 400 with all the teachers, students and guests. I talked about how I had no idea what to expect from Sekameng: what the students would be like, how the teachers would be, what my house and village and school would be like… and then how impressed I’d been with everything. Students care about their work, and teachers and students care immensely for each other. The school is really a great place. I ended by urging them to continue working hard and thanking them all for a wonderful two years. It was a simple speech so I’m hoping everyone understood my English (ha).

I managed to make it through my speech without crying (which surprised me), but several speeches later, I was called up to the stage again. The students I’d applied with for a tuition scholarship wanted to thank me, or so the MC announced. When I reached the stage, they had a very large envelope and a funny-shaped bag. One of the students pulled a large handmade card from the envelope and read it out loud: “We shall miss you for your support and love. Thank you for everything. Wherever you go, whatever you do, our prayers shall follow you. Best of luck and God bless you” and they listed their names. Then, from the bag, they pulled out a Basotho hat. They explained that they had combined resources to thank me by giving me the hat. At that point, I lost it. These were some of the brightest, most needy students who had contributed money to thank ME. I gave them all hugs and sat down, smiling and still wiping my eyes. It was one of the most generous gifts I think I’ve ever received.

After the ceremony was lunch (at 4pm) and we all feasted before the post-meal entertainment: a beauty pageant. This beauty pageant was honestly one of the most ridiculous things I think I’ve witnessed in Africa. There were maybe 7 or 8 girls entered and they had to strut and pose and dance in front of the whole school and a handful of judges. They dressed up in their street clothes and for one of the categories even got to wear a very fancy formal dress. Maybe it was because I’d seen so much of the rehearsals the days prior, but I didn’t watch much of this pageant. Afterwards, they kept the sound system going for a massive dance party. From what I could tell, the students really enjoyed the farewell.

The next morning however, all the previous day’s fun came back to bite us… all. Everyone who had eaten anything at the farewell was running to the toilet. Repeatedly. Teachers, students, staff, guests… my stomach didn’t calm down until late in the afternoon. Looking back, its pretty funny, but at the time we were all miserable.

On Saturday I left for Swaziland to visit PCV friends there (who I met on vacation in Mozambique). It was an incredibly long day of travel: we crossed the border shortly before 6am, left for Joburg at 7am, arrived in Jozi about noon and were on the way to Mbabane by 1pm. The travel gods were smiling down on us – no problems in Johannesburg and the taxi for Swaziland left very soon after we all piled in. We reached Mbabane by 5:30, our hostel by 6, dinner arrived about 7:30 and we all conked out at 8:30.

The next day we parted ways; I went with PC-Swazi and my travel companions went their own way. We relaxed another day in Mbabane, cooked a tasty Mexican meal and enjoyed one more hot shower before camping in the Ngwempisi gorge the next day. There were 7 of us total staying at a tree-house for grown-ups, as we called it. It was an awesome open-air lodge/hostel place built in and around a massive boulder. There were beds to sleep 16, a kitchen, and several areas to have bonfires. Possibly the greatest part was the toilet and shower. They were situated around the boulder so there was privacy, even without a door. While sitting on the toilet or standing in the shower, you could look out and see the river valley and the many hills in the distance. Truly stunning.

On Tuesday we went hiking down to the river, across the river, and on a barefoot death hike to one of the most disappointing hot springs I’ve ever seen. Except the barefoot part across little burs and sharp twigs (which was the death hike – our feet hurt so bad!), it was really amazing. Crossing the river was a bit scary as the current was fairly strong in places, but the cool water was refreshing, and thankfully there were no crocodiles. The hike back up was difficult but only because our trail-blazers were practically flying… no “pole pole” like on Kilimanjaro! That night we sat around the fire and ate dinner before going to bed very early.

We were up and out pretty early the next morning… into Matsapha for pizza at a great place called “The Italian Job” … probably the best pizza I’ve had in Africa (other than my own homemade, of course). Then, because of planned protests in Mbabane and Manzini the next day, I went with Megan to her site for a few nights. We reminisced about Minnesota (and America in general), did massive amounts of laundry and walked around her community – a very nice place. Her family was very sweet and gave me the Swazi name “Nomaswazi” which I’m told means Swazi girl… I learned greetings in Siswati and really enjoyed seeing how another PCV in another country lives. Plus the volunteers there are awesome – we’ve hung out together in 3 different countries now!

My last night, we went back to Mbabane so I could leave early the next morning… we tried to make black bean burgers but they turned out terribly. First, we had to use lentils instead of black beans. Second, we burned the lentils. Third, we made sangria. All in all, a very fun night and a good way to exit with a bang.

Traveling all the way back to Lesotho wasn’t difficult, just long. My head hurt, my stomach hurt, and I didn’t want to drink too much water for fear of stopping the taxi every hour to use the bathroom. Oh, Africa. I made it back to Lesotho sort of late, but I found a friend crossing the border to share a taxi with to my destination so it worked out just fine.

I got to site on Sunday afternoon, unpacked, had a snack and fell asleep almost instantly… until 1am. My afternoon nap turned into almost 16 hours of blissful sleep before teaching again this morning!

Other than all of that, not too much new to report. I’m looking into possibilities for jobs or grad programs after I get home but it’s really daunting… One day at a time!

Love from Lesotho,

-Katie

Hello again,

Two posts in one week... you lucky ducks! (Though I won't even comment on the quality of these posts... I haven't really been in the writing mood recently)

All of the volunteers in Lesotho recently gathered for a joint All-Volunteer conference and 50th Anniversary Celebration. The 50th celebration had speeches, singing, dancing and even the King attended. It was fun to get dressed up and hear the good things people had to say about the work we're doing (recognition is always nice!) and that they hope the States will continue to send volunteers here. The cultural dancing was great fun to watch - I'd seen the female dance before but the male dance is very entertaining, with lots of stomping and showy moves.

The King did not give a speech but plenty of other important people did - one of whom was the principal of my school! He was incredibly honored and (I think) did a great job. After the ceremony, they split us into groups (important people, school dance troups and everyone else) and he made it into the important people tent; when I saw him later, he was absolutely beaming at the honor of eating in the King's tent.

I'm told the celebrations were televised but I doubt I'll be able to find a television in time to watch it! I do think the photos will find their way to some website somewhere.

Not too much else to report. I have something like 12 weeks left! All my appointments are scheduled (medical, dental, language assessment, etc) and I'm more than ready to leave! (...though I will miss this place once I'm gone)

Love from Africa

-katie

Greetings from Lesotho!

I realize it has been a long, long time since I’ve updated at all… probably since Kilimanjaro? Life has been a rollercoaster since then, lots of ups and downs, and somehow I never quite know what to post.

Probably the biggest thing is that the school’s generator is now completely fixed and functional. Much thanks to the Hilbert students in Wisconsin for their incredible fundraising, we were able to get the alternator fixed and installed. The electrician had to come several times to make sure everything was usable and on his final visit, a student came running to my house and told me to try my lights. I flipped the switch and THERE WAS LIGHT. IN EVERY ROOM OF MY HOUSE. Since then the school has been using it to pump water and provide light for the older students to study in the evenings. It’s wonderful!

Other than that, the biggest news is that I’ll be leaving my school early December to finalize all my paperwork and leaving Lesotho several days later. Though I don’t have my trip all planned yet, I’m looking forward to a couple weeks of travel before arriving home for Christmas!

With my COS (close of service) date looming just a couple months away, I’m trying to make sure all the things I’ve been working on are appropriately wrapped up and handed over to people who will be able to continue them in my absence. The egg project is finished – the chickens haven’t been producing enough eggs, meaning they’re no longer worth keeping. I believe almost all 150 chickens have been sold so I’m not going to have to worry about eggs or chickens anymore, probably for the rest of my life. The library is still a library, and as long as my teachers can choose new librarians for next year, it will be just fine.

Classes continue to be fine. We have just under 3 weeks left before Independence Holiday (a week off in October), after which the external classes begin their serious exams. After that, only a month and a half of school before we close in November.

That’s all for now, folks…

Love from Lesotho!

I almost forgot!

Our group started a website to share all our photos. Check it out: http://teamtorcheskilimanjaro.shutterfly.com

It may take some time for everyone to finish their travels and actually get around to uploading photos but I'm almost finished and I saw that Kellie uploaded hers too.

Here are a few, just to snag your interest...

Adam and me at Uhuru Peak!

Group photo at the Lava Tower on Day 4

Adam and me with our first glimpse of the mountain

Kili continued...

When I last left this, I think we had boarded a bus to go to Moshi again, back to the Springlands Hotel (Zara Tours accommodation for its tourists). We looked a mess and probably smelled worse, but I think the glow from our accomplishment prevented us from caring. At reception they told us there was no room at Springlands (again), so we’d be staying right in Moshi, at the Panama Hotel (again). We were psyched – this meant we could go shopping in and around Moshi the next day before our flight around 5pm. Meanwhile, they fed us. Lunch tasted great and was a never-ending buffet… the guys went back for seconds and thirds. After we were stuffed, they brought us to the Panama again and gave us an hour to clean up (first shower in a week!) and meet back in the restaurant for a little ceremony.

I cannot even describe how amazing that shower felt. It was a little strange since the hotel had no designated shower area, there was just a showerhead in one corner of the bathroom and a couple of drains on the floor. This did not matter. I cranked the hot water and watched the dirt just stream off. It took me a solid 30 minutes to clean myself. I emerged two shampoos, one very deep conditioning, gobs of facewash and nearly an entire bar of soap later, wrinkly but clean.

The group hardly recognized each other! All the guys were clean-shaven and everyone was in street clothes instead of hiking gear (and at least one layer of “tan” – dirt and grime – lighter). We each ordered a Kilimanjaro (the local beer) and got down to business. The guides gave us certificates for having succeeded, as well as a very heartfelt speech about how they thought we’d all known each other going in to the whole thing, and how our almost instantaneous friendship definitely helped us along the way. Chombo told us how he’d seen groups who didn’t talk, had no fun, and then blamed him when they didn’t reach Uhuru. It was very clear that all the guides had really enjoyed our group (which made me happy) and they were proud of us for having grown so close so quickly.

Then it was our turn. One of the British guys made a short speech about how we wouldn’t have made it up without their excellent team, and how appreciative we were. We handed over a tip and presented them with some articles of clothing. I donated my hiking boots (selfishly, I didn’t want to lug them back to the States and would rather see them on the feet of a porter or guide than someone in my village who probably won’t ever climb a mountain in their life), hiking pants (hand-me-overs from another PCV), a nice pair of socks (still clean!) and some bug repellent. Adam also gave his hiking boots. It was very sweet how appreciative they were of our donations; that just affirmed to me that it was the right decision (and I found myself wracking my brains: what else could I give?!). We then got to just relax and have a beer with the guides and talk to them on a completely non-professional level – I think they let their guards down considerably. After a while, they excused themselves, saying they wanted to get home to their families (and probably bathe too), but thanking us and giving us their email addresses.

And then there were seven. The gang went out for food and landed at a fairly touristy place (though it was a Sunday night, so not much else was open) where we chowed down on pizza and Indian food, reminiscing and laughing about the previous week together. It felt like I’d known these people forever even though it had only been 8 days. It’s really amazing to me how being in a situation like that can really draw you close to people… it also made me realize (again) how great our group was. Aww ☺

Back at the hotel we played cards until almost midnight before calling it a night. We had to say goodbye to one that night (his flight was super early the next morning and his ride was coming at 3am or something ridiculous), which was hard. The next morning, to our delight, breakfast was included in our stay in the hotel. After more showers, we headed out to explore the Moshi market and do some shopping. We lost two more then (off to spend time at the Hilton in Zanzibar, lucks!) and although it was hard to say goodbye, four was a much more manageable number for walking around as tourists. A local Tanzanian decided he would guide us around town; he took us to the stall for whatever it was we said we were interested in: jerseys, jewelry, t-shirts, paintings… After a few hours of this, we were exhausted and had to head back to the hotel just to get rid of him. It was definitely lunchtime, so we went back to the place Adam and I had found a week before for a huge plate of fish and rice.

Adam and I were on the same flight as the other American woman so we left the last group member there around 3pm to go catch our flight. Again, it was hard to say goodbye. He had become sort of a grandpa to me on the trip and I hope to reconnect once we’re all back stateside.

No problems at the airport (except I stupidly forgot to pack my nice knife in my checked bag and so I lost it to airport security). Our flight was a tiny bit late but to me, that was a good thing. It would only minimize our 13-hour layover in Addis Ababa. In Ethiopia, we wandered around a little, said goodbye to our fellow Yank, got some water, and curled up on the floor to start chipping away at the long night ahead of us. We’d been asleep maybe 30 minutes when a security guard came over and asked for our flight information. Where were we from? Where were we going? When did our flight leave? I thought we were going to be kicked out (or at least in deep trouble for not making better flight arrangements). He just told us we had to go downstairs to some desk to find out about our hotel. Adam and I were both pretty confused… we had no hotel and we sure didn’t want to have to pay for one. He insisted we go downstairs so we did.

At this desk, we found out that not only did we have a hotel room (apparently it got reserved with our tickets? maybe that’s why they were so expensive?), we also had shuttle service to and from that hotel room, as well as two meals in the hotel! Ten minutes and an Ethiopian transit visa later, we were on our way to the Panorama Hotel in downtown Addis Ababa, actually a very beautiful hotel with delicious food, hot showers and an amazing bed. I think the only thing that could’ve made that part better is if we’d realized it earlier, and not spent hours in the AA airport trying to kill time. We made it to the next flight in plenty of time and were on our way back to South Africa.

One of Adam’s teachers was at the Johannesburg airport (a very welcome sight), waiting to bring us back to Lesotho. Apart from stopping for burgers at Wimpy, I honestly don’t remember a lot from that ride either. It was cozy and warm and I fell asleep soon after we started moving. After that, it’s not too exciting. I spent much of Wednesday in the PC Office uploading photos and working on the first half of this massive blog post (so I hope you enjoy!) and then ended up back at site. I slept 17 hours the first night, was awake for about 4, took a 3 hour nap, woke up long enough to prepare tea and a bowl of cereal, and slept another 15. Needless to say, I was pretty well rested by the time water arrived the next day. Friday was laundry day… buckets and buckets of water, loads and loads of laundry. You know you’ve done too much laundry (all by hand, mind you) when by the time you’re finishing the last load, most of the stuff hanging on the line is already warm and dry. In any case, clean clothes are nice. I won’t even try to describe how dirty the laundry water was (and I haven’t even tried to wash my socks yet – ew).

I think that’s all I have for you… climbing Kilimanjaro was absolutely phenomenal. If you get a chance to go, I highly recommend it, though I will also advise you to be in pretty good physical shape, and ready for ridiculously high altitudes. Really, a handful of blog posts and all my photos don’t do it any justice… another incredible adventure to add to my list.

Peace and love from Africa,

-Katie

July 20, 2011

Well, we made it. All the way up and all the way down. I’ll do my best to recount everything but it may take 2 (or ten) posts to do the trip justice.

Adam and I left two weeks ago on the 8th for Johannesburg. We lucked out big time and the taxi left Maseru as soon as we were in. It was quite a long drive, all on back bumpy roads with more potholes than Minnesota during road construction season. As PCVs, we’re told to avoid the Joburg taxi rank as much as possible, so I was sort of nervous, however other volunteers have said that it’s definitely manageable, and it was. As soon as we arrived, there was a guy outside the taxi offering to bring us anywhere in the rank. It was once we arrived at the airport taxi that he asked for money, but we’d made it safely, so I was happy to pay.

We got to O.R. Tambo around 2pm… plenty early for our 9pm flight… but there were restaurants to visit! At first, it didn’t seem like there was anything available to us in the International Departures Terminal so we had to walk around a bit but eventually found Subway and a handful of other great places. We had sandwiches first (delicious but not quite as speedy as in the States) and then sat down for bottomless coffee and the best muffins on the face of the Earth at Mugg & Bean. Four (or five?) cups and a few hours later, we were wired and walked around a bit before checking in (they let us check in way early – some people are so nice!). Once through security and immigration, we bummed around a few more hours, looking in bookshops and the Duty Free stores. One of my favorite things to do in airports is people-watch and we did a fair amount of that too.

We grabbed some food for the flight (not expecting anything) and boarded, off to Dar es Salaam. That flight landed around 1:30am. We groggily found our way to immigration to buy our Visa for Tanzania. When we got to the desk, they asked for $100 (which we didn’t have) and we offered our credit cards. No luck. The machine that took credit cards was down, they said, but there were some ATMs outside. They held our passports and we headed outside to withdraw Tanzanian shillings, which we would then need to change to USD. No luck. The ATMs we found wouldn’t take either of our cards… At this point, I was getting pretty flustered. We were in a foreign place, it was 2am, we couldn’t get our Visas, our cards didn’t work, and we had to climb Kilimanjaro the next day. Thankfully Adam was incredibly calm about the whole thing. He went back in and explained to the woman the entire situation. She accompanied us to the immigration desk and explained to the guy that we would just need to pay for the visa upon departure. He wrote in each of our passports “subject to pay visa on departure, usd100 for multiple entry visa” and we continued on our way to the next leg of the journey. I cannot even explain how relieved I was, but also how worried I was; my only means of getting cash wasn’t working – would I be able to get cash once we got to Moshi?

We crashed for a few more hours in the airport in Dar before our 6am flight to Kilimanjaro airport. That flight was absolutely spectacular. It was just starting to get light, and above the clouds, we could see the whole sunset. As we approached Moshi, I could see Kilimanjaro in the distance, the top just peeking above the clouds… stunning. Once we landed, it wasn’t too long before a car came to pick us up and bring us to check in for our climb. We were supposed to stay at this little (touristy) oasis of a place, about 15 minutes from downtown Moshi but they were overbooked, so we ended up IN Moshi, which was actually much better. We got to walk around town without having to worry about getting there or back. After not much sleep the night before, I was exhausted… Adam, however, somehow had enough energy to walk around a fair amount. As we were waiting to get a sim card for the cell phone, I fell asleep, right in the store. That was when he agreed to let me go take a nap . My nap was great… he even let me sleep longer than I wanted because he was scared to wake me up (sound familiar Mom?) We found a great local place (right next to the place we stayed) for lunch – Zanzibar rice with beans and spicy sauce and some salads. A huge portion cost the equivalent of $1. We vowed to go back for dinner.

A few more hours of walking around put us at about 4:30pm so we headed back for our group meeting and briefing with our guides and other group members. I had been a bit concerned about who else was going to be in our group… would they be older couples with whom we had nothing in common? Would they be cool? Would they even speak English? All these worries vanished when we met a couple of awesome British guys and another American woman… they seemed very cool. We were told there were two more guys on the way but we didn’t end up meeting them until the next morning: another British guy and another American man. We were 7 in total, 3 Brits and 4 Americans… needless to say, there was a lot of banter flying in the group. We all learned new phrases in the other “language” and got to practice our accents… even though the Brits said our accents were “rubbish” and (to us) they just sounded like hicks most of the time.

I was relieved to find out that the others in the group were just nervous as I was, if not more, about the climb. Our guide and assistant guides were very reassuring; they’d had a great summit record together and were confident we’d be great. The 7 of us bonded very quickly (as you tend to do when in a situation like that) and even our guides didn’t believe that we hadn’t known each other before coming to Tanzania.

The drive to the gate the first morning was pretty long. We were all chatty, not sure what to expect but relieved that at least the first day was said to be relatively easy. When we arrived at the gate, we had to check in with passport numbers and register all our information. They gave us a nice box lunch, we drove another hour (through some crazy brush – in a massive safari-like vehicle on a path that was maybe meant for a bicycle… it was bumpy) before disembarking, packing up our packs and hitting the trail.

The first day’s hike was indeed relatively easy, only about 3 hours, all through the rainforest. Some ups, some downs, and I think we were all on a big hiker high. We arrived at the first camp around dinner time, found our packs and dragged our belongings to the tents. The porters brought us warm water for washing and directed us to the tent where we’d have tea. It was a pretty small tent with a very small (and wobbly) table with popcorn on a big platter, as well as 7 mugs, 7 small spoons and an assortment of tea, Milo (cocoa) and coffee. Then came dinner… first a carrot soup and some bread, then later fish and potatoes and vegetables. We were all in awe – we were going to be waited on hand and foot for the next week. After dinner, our guide, a very gentle, professional Tanzanian named Chombo, came in and told us the program for the next day (which would also end up being the schedule for most of our days). We would wake up for tea at 7am, get some more warm water for washing, take breakfast at 7:30 and hit the trail by 8. We’d go about 6 hours to the next camp, and the day would be sort of difficult. With this news, we headed to the tents to get some sleep. Adam and I had no trouble falling asleep (this is where being accustomed to poor sleeping conditions comes in handy!) and staying asleep until 7am when there came a knock on the tent – they brought tea to our tents.

Breakfast was several courses as well: first uji, a porridge (not unlike lesheleshele in Lesotho) made of maize and sorghum meal. Then came pancakes (thin – no baking powder in them, almost like sweet tortillas) and bread, and finally eggs and sausages. We hadn’t realized how much food there would be so we all sort of filled up on the uji and tea. Then it was time to pack and hit the trail.

As any of my family members can attest, I’m not usually huge on hiking, and even less keen on camping, but this was an adventure. The hike was beautiful – more rainforest, and then eventually into some other ecological zones (not sure what else to call them). Plenty of up-hills and several rests… but the prospect of a good hot lunch was waiting for us. About 4 or 5 hours in to our 6-hour hike, we finally caught a glimpse of the mountain. It was spectacular… and all of a sudden the task ahead got a whole lot bigger. Camp the second night was probably my favorite. It wasn’t as crowded as the first camp, plus we could see the mountain directly out of our tent and caught a grand sunset and sunrise.

Day 3 was easier, pretty flat and basic (though the sun was shining and many of us got a bit burned), a chance to rest up and acclimatize for the next day. Day 4 was rough. It was a lot of uphill, up to around 15,000 ft at a place called the Lava Tower, a beautiful rock formation on one side of the base, and then back down to about 12,000 ft. The up part wasn’t too bad and I think the down would’ve been alright if it weren’t for the fact that we’d already been hiking 4 hours up. By the end of our descent that night into Barranco camp, I felt absolutely terrible. I had a pounding headache and felt weak and worried whether or not the next day would bring any relief.

As soon as we got to camp that night, I went to the tent to lie down, but only managed to rest a few minutes before tea time. Sugary tea and salty popcorn helped a lot, but I still felt pretty terrible… I got to rest probably only 30 minutes (not quite long enough to really fall asleep but to start drifting off) before dinner. I wasn’t sure about eating dinner but figured it couldn’t hurt… and I was right. After dinner, I felt ten times better and slept really well.

Day 5 was supposed to be easy… we had to climb Barranco wall, basically a cliff, up which we “bouldered” … a.k.a. scurried up. The night before, Chombo had told us we should not bring poles because we would need to use our “crawly hands” … absolutely accurate. There were a couple places where we had to be really careful with balance and there was a very specific “left foot here, right hand there” pattern we had to follow. What amazed me the most was how quickly the porters could scurry up the side of the wall with probably 30+ pounds of stuff on their head/neck/back. Several hours later (like 5 I think) we arrived at camp. It wasn’t a super difficult hike but it was not as easy as we’d anticipated either. After lunch we got time to rest but before we could sleep, the assistant guide, Lucas, came to the tent to see if we wanted to go for a short acclimatization hike, basically a short jaunt up a ways and then back down, so we’d be camping lower than the highest elevation of the day (which wouldn’t have been a problem since the top of the wall was pretty darn high). I figured it couldn’t do any harm... I’d been alright that day and had started to get pretty nervous about the summit day and this at least would calm my nerves.

Day 6 actually lived up to expectations. It was not terribly difficult. The hike was about 4 hours, but this time we were seriously going up in elevation. This was the real deal – up to 15,000ft to camp at Barafu for a few hours before the summit hike to Uhuru. After a warm lunch, we were sent to our tents to relax, which we did willingly until our early dinner. Around 5:30pm they brought in a huge plate of pasta with some very thick vegetable sauce – carbo load! As we were taking tea, our guide and assistant guides came in to tell us how the summit would be. Everyone was very quiet but the tent was absolutely electric. We got a pep talk fit for a professional sports team from Chombo (with Lucas and Charles on his sides, nodding and adding in Swahili when he left something out). The plan was as follows:

We were to go to sleep (it was 7pm at this point) until 10pm. We would wake then, dress in warm layers, take tea and biscuits at 10:30pm and set off on the trek up the mountain at 11pm, headlamps on head. We would climb and climb and climb, take more tea about halfway up, and climb some more, all the way to the top. We’d get 10 minutes at the top to take photos and revel in the moment before beginning our descent…

So, at about 10pm, Adam and I woke up and started layering on clothes. I ended up wearing two pairs of socks, hiking boots, 3 pairs of pants (long underwear, hiking pants and water/windproof), 6 layers on top (various wicking shirts, some fleece and insulation), a neck gator, headband, hat, hood, gloves and mittens. Tea was nice and warm and again the tent was electric. Everyone was excited and nervous, anxious about what might happen if something went wrong but optimistic that nothing would.

By 11:05pm we were off up the hill, a nice little train of headlamps up a very big mountain. I think we were probably the second or third group to leave camp that night… one of the group likened it to a Christmas tree – all lit up. We went maybe an hour and a half before stopping for a break; we were all out of breath even though nobody was moving faster than a snail’s pace. At this point we split off – Bill with Chombo to go a bit slower and the rest of us with Lucas and Charles (the assistant guides). At this point, I just remember being tired and cold. Not super fatigued or sick, just tired and cold. After we’d been going a while, we had to go up some bigger rocks and I must have taken it too quickly because everything started going blurry and I felt much worse. I asked to take a break at which point Charles swiped my bag off my back and I was told to go second in line, right behind Lucas. We slowed down a little bit but kept going, trudging slowly, slowly up. The group was mostly quiet but every once in a while someone would ask how I was feeling (or how someone else was feeling). It was really incredible, feeling their support and knowing not only how badly we all wanted to summit but also how badly the guides wanted it for us.

We stopped again and this time I felt absolutely nauseated. I couldn’t tell if I was going to throw up or pass out or what was going to happen… One of the guys in the group offered me some glucose tables which I took and sucked on. There was no way I could’ve taken solid food at this point or I surely would have vomited, so thankfully these helped and I felt like I could continue.

Many hours of the trek are a complete blur. I know we climbed for 8 hours total and stopped several times. We stopped for tea which warmed us all a little bit, and then finally it was only 45 minutes to Stella Point, which was to be 100 vertical meters from the top, another 45 minutes up to the sign for Uhuru Peak.

Somehow, I’m still not sure how, we all made it up. Stella was an incredible site, especially knowing how close we were. The sun was beginning to rise at this point and the sky was warming from deep blue to shades of yellow and orange, and the moon was still full on the other side. Everything was absolutely breathtaking (literally and figuratively). The attitude in the group definitely lifted from Stella the rest of the way. It was almost like a magnet was pulling us up because I honestly don’t know how any of us had any energy left at that point. We just kept going…

Finally, the sign was in site and I couldn’t stop myself from crying. It was such a beautiful moment: achievement, friendship, support… natural beauty too, with the sun rising on one side and the moon still up over another (smaller) mountain on the other side… As I looked around, others in my group were crying too. Then it was a giant hug-fest as we congratulated each other and commiserated about how terrible we felt but how thrilled we were to be at the top.

Several photographs later, we were back on the way down, and as crazy as it sounds to only be at the top for 10-15 minutes, I think we were all ready to go back down and rest for a little while. As the guide told us, it’s not very good for people to be up that high (over 19,000 ft) for very long, and anything can happen at the top. Shortly after 7:15am (and a stop for a little chocolate) we were on our way, half walking and half stumbling, back down to Barafu.

We made it to camp about 3 hours later (though much of that time is also a blur to me). I remember being exhausted, having a bad headache, and being concerned about Adam feeling really sick. As soon as we got to the tent, we were both passed out.

We rested a while before taking another hike back down the mountain about 4 hours, in order to camp at a lower elevation, about 10,000ft. We all slept like babies that night… “like totos” as the Tanzanians would say. The final day was all downhill and that was when I really started getting sore. It was only 4 hours downhill, and we descended 5,000ft before exiting through the gate, boarding a bus, and heading back to Moshi.

Unfortunately, I think I need to get going now, but I will definitely post more at another point – soon!

All my love from Africa,

-Katie

Adam and I leave tomorrow (early) to get to Johannesburg for our flight(s) to Moshi, Tanzania.

Our climb begins on Sunday and we're scheduled to summit on the 16th (right after a full moon - it should be incredible). Our route has a pretty high summit rate (around 85% I think) so keep your fingers crossed that neither of us gets altitude sickness and that we both (along with the other 6 in our group) stay healthy and make it to Uhuru Peak!

We looked at some of the altitudes and compared them to our lives in Lesotho. The elevation where we start is roughly the elevation of the mountain near Adam's house, which we've climbed several times. It's not thaaaat much higher than where his house is and I don't honestly think that's too much higher than where my house is (but that may just be my optimism speaking). All in all, it's a lot less daunting knowing that our elevation here is going to help us out with adjusting.

Time now to repack everything so my carry-on bag isn't to big and my checked bag isn't too heavy...

I'll update again in a couple weeks after we're back!

Love from Lesotho (and eventually Tanzania and Kili!)

-Katie

June 28, 2011

Morning from Sekameng. I won’t say good morning because this is the most miserable cold I think I have ever experienced, possibly in my life. I know it sounds like I just like to complain (and to some extent, I’m sure I do), but it is legitimately cold. I wake up in the morning and my house is 45 degrees Fahrenheit. That’s cold, folks.

As my mom found out, I don’t generally heat water unless it’s to drink or bathe in, so each time I wash dishes, my hands freeze. I basically have an endless mug of coffee or tea or plain hot water with me wherever I go. Enough about the cold.

It’s hard for me to believe that only a week has gone by since my mom and I went our separate ways in Cape Town. I flew back to Bloemfontein and actually (surprisingly!) made it all the way home to Sekameng in one day. She had a longer journey back to the States but is now safely home and hopefully readjusted to Central Standard Time.

After I got back, I stayed home barely long enough to do laundry before taking off on another mini-trip. Some friends and I did our own version of “Christmas in July” even though it was June. We figured it was more like “Christmas and a Half” since in exactly 6 months, it would have been Christmas Eve and Day. We planned a feast (and shopped accordingly), lugging all sorts of food items up to one of the more remote places in Lesotho. On Friday, as we were in town gathering supplies, there was snow in the air. I’ve only seen snow here one other time and I just remember it being miserably cold. I had no clue what we were in for…

We made it to this friend’s house early afternoon and it was just as cold (if not colder) at his place. At least every PCV is given a heater for the duration of their service. He had no gas for said heater, but at least the shop wasn’t too far. We decided to go the next morning (“Christmas” morning) to try to get a refill so we wouldn’t freeze too solid the next day. Unfortunately, part of the joy of being at such a remote site is that there really is not much there. None of the shops (near or far) had any gas refills. So we stuck it out (not like we had much choice, ha), crowding in the kitchen, sipping tea and cooking delicious things for later.

After everyone was awake (I woke up to a fistful of snow in my face and then ran outside only to find that there was not much on the ground), we did our own little Yankee Swap gift exchange. The rule was that the gifts had to come from our houses (we’re all sort of poor and have big vacations coming up). I contributed some instant Starbucks coffee packets, clay and a Clif Bar (highly valued, given my next big vacation). Other gifts included a t-shirt, a Lego version of Dumbledore (my winning), a book and DVD that actually belonged to someone else there (shockingly enough, he ended up with that gift), stickers and pencils, and coupons for a various assortment of prizes. We had a fold-out tree complete with small wooden decorations, and a lovely garland (thanks to my father) to decorate the house – it almost felt like real Christmas.

Around noon, some of us went for a run. It was absolutely gorgeous, across the river and along some really neat rock formations that conveniently shielded us from the wind. I’d heard a lot about the various running routes my friend had (especially training for the Ultra-Marathon in Cape Town) so it was great to see his part of the country. An added bonus was that we all warmed up considerably – I think I may have even sweat a little!

We all left on Sunday and after waiting over an hour for the taxi, finally piled on to one of the longest taxi rides of my life. The road (for all but maybe 20 minutes of the ride) was dirt and rock, quite bumpy. We crossed a river at several points in the journey and were lucky because it was low – had the river been much higher, I’m fairly certain we would have all had to get out and walk across (and pray the taxi made it).

Several stops after we got on (just before the taxi was full way past capacity), a very drunk (and still drinking) man got on and sat next to Eric, who was sitting next to me. This man was loud and obnoxious, constantly talking and gesticulating wildly. Eric was a champ for dealing with him and even managed to poke fun at him for a while (telling him we were going to Lesotho but we didn’t know where it was, etc) before we realized this guy was not going to tire. Eventually, he did. Miracle of miracles, he passed out and sort of collapsed into his own little area (rather than expanding onto his neighbors as some do). Relief! After more than 2 hours, we reached town and let me tell you, KFC has never tasted so good.

Now I have just over a week before I head to Maseru to finalize some things for the Diversity Committee, then Adam and I fly to Tanzania to climb Kilimanjaro on the 8th. We’re both pretty excited, obviously for the climb, but also to just spend some time in airports: people-watching and restaurant-hopping (Mugg & Bean has delicious bottomless coffee and the best muffins you’ve ever tasted… I think we’ll spend a few hours and cups of coffee there before our flight). It’ll also be nice to be near the equator (WARMTH!), if only for the first couple days of our climb.

I’ll do my best to post again before Kili, but if not, you can definitely expect an update after we return. I hope all is well at home, I’m excited to be there in 6 months!

Love from Africa,

-Katie

Winter vacation is here!

My students completed all their exams (successfully, I believe) and have begun helping their family to harvest their crops: maize, sorghum, beans, etc. The external classes (Forms C and E) are still coming to school for winter classes. Luckily these start an hour later than school did and only go until about 1pm.

When I wrote last, I was in Maseru working on some things for Peace Corps but mostly just waiting for my mom to arrive. On Wednesday morning, I got up early, took a hot shower (!!!) and made it to the border fairly early. I met Kimiko there (she was coming with us on safari) and we found the taxi to Bloemfontein, where we’d rent the car to drive to Joburg airport and pick up Mom. The weather was pretty bad, cold and rainy with no sunshine in sight. We found our taxi and were the second and third people in a taxi that was supposed to hold 22 people. When planning, I’d built in extra time in case we had to wait for a taxi to fill or couldn’t quite get to the border early enough. When we got to the taxi before 9 and it still hadn’t filled at 11, I started getting nervous. Finally we had enough people to fill a small taxi (only 15 people needed) and we took off towards Bloemfontein just before noon. I managed to calm down, but then, naturally, we hit road construction.

Mom’s flight landed around 4:30pm and we were stuck on the road to Bloem when we were supposed to be driving to the airport. After three more delays thanks to construction, we were finally cruising. And then the kicker. After all the rain, the final stretch of road had been flooded so badly we couldn’t pass. We had to pay more money, turn around and take a long detour. This not only meant we were going to be lateR to pick up our car, but in addition, now we wouldn’t be passing the junction airport, so we’d have to take an extra (expensive) taxi to the airport.

Approximately 3:30pm we finally left the car rental place in Bloemfontein to head to Johannesburg. I was absolutely livid. We had had these grand plans of going to the Joburg airport and drinking bottomless coffee and eating delicious muffins all day long while waiting for my mom’s flight. When she arrived, we’d happily run into each others arms, smiling and crying… Instead, she was the one who had to wait in the airport for us.

We made it to Joburg several hours after she arrived and picked her up (there were indeed tears) and made our way to the place we’d be staying that night.

The next day we left for Kruger National Park to go on safari. We had quite a drive, but once we got past Nelspruit, it was beautiful. The plan was to stay in the park for three nights at two different camps, and during the days drive around the park to see as many animals as we could.

That day, we barely arrived at the gate in time. The man admitting us told us we had to go as fast as the speed limit would allow us or we might not make it into the camp. We were not to stop for any animal because otherwise we might be locked out, stuck in the park after dark. (Actually, I’m not really sure what would have happened to us if we didn’t make it into our camp, but we didn’t really want to find out.) So we drove… but within the first five minutes of being in the park, we had to stop because there were so many cars blocking the road, all looking at lions. No big deal, LIONS were the first animals we saw upon entering the park. We could only look for a short while before continuing on. Next, we saw rhinos off on the left, and after a little while more, we had to stop. There was an enormous elephant right in the road. It walked around eating for a while before we could pass it but eventually, we did make it past and made it to the camp in time.

The next two days we left our camp early to go out and see as many animals as we could. The list of animals we saw includes: lions, elephants, rhinos, buffalo, kudu, impala, waterbuck, crocodiles, hippos, hyenas, giraffes, zebras, vultures, monkeys and probably several more that I’ve forgotten about. After two and a half days total of driving around, my legs were stiff from lack of exercise but my camera was full and I definitely had a new appreciation for all of Africa’s animals. Safari was incredible.

After safari, we headed back to Bloem to return the car and as an intermediate stop before reaching Lesotho, the second stop on our voyage. We had lovely accommodation there and enjoyed muffins and bottomless coffee before returning to Lesotho. That day, as my mother is proud to report, we took 6 taxis in order to get back to my stop, and then had to walk 45 minutes to get home. We didn’t reach my stop until dark but several students came to pick us up and help carry luggage in to Sekameng.

Over the next few days, Mom learned what it was like to live in Sekameng. When we arrived, there was no running water, so we had to wait and hope and pray that it’d be there the next day. We cooked by candlelight and went to sleep fairly early after a busy and exhausting day.

Tuesday and Wednesday we walked around my village. She met the other teachers at my school and many of my students. We did laundry in cold water, baked bread and ate chaka-laka, motoho and papa. I think she really enjoyed it; I know I loved showing her the life I've made here.

On Thursday, we climbed the nearby mountain, Kolo. It was an all-day affair. We left around 8am and made it back to my house just before 3pm. We had to walk there, then go up, come down and walk back… by the end of the day, I think we all had blisters on our feet and our legs were definitely sore.

That night we went to stay with my Kenyan friends so Mom could meet them too, and the next day was a trip (back again) to Bloemfontein to fly to Cape Town, where we are now. I still love this place. So far, we’ve seen penguins at Boulders, climbed (the back of and hiked around) Table Mountain, shopped for gifts, eaten at Eastern Food Bazaar (honestly one of my favorite restaurants), and gotten lost driving around the city plenty of times. It’s great to be back here.

Today, we were supposed to tour Robben Island, but unfortunately the weather has not been cooperative. It has rained off and on and is just generally cold and windy. Instead, I think we’ll head over to the waterfront and shop more.

Tomorrow, we have a wine tour scheduled. We’ll visit several vineyards and taste wines, cheeses and chocolates. Tuesday is the day we split; she’ll go back to Joburg to fly home and I’ll go back to Lesotho.

It has been a whirlwind two weeks with three great mini-vacations. It’ll be sad to see Mom go but I know the rest of the family at home misses her a ton. She’ll go home with lots of good pictures and memories and it’ll be really nice for me to be able to talk with her about Lesotho and South Africa once I get home.

Time to get ready for another day – hot showers are so great!

Love from Africa,

-Katie (&mom)

School is almost out and winter is definitely here.

My house is consistently 45 degrees at night and in addition to sleeping in long pants, wool socks, several layers on top plus gloves and a hat, I have 4 very warm blankets on my bed at all times. It. Is. Cold. Last winter was never this bad (or my memory has just faded with the heat of summer). I've used my heater. Multiple times. I admit it. Last year I hesitated (we were having a contest to see who could last the longest without using their heater and in my mind, I won) but this year I've come around. Plus, the previous volunteer left me several partially full tanks of gas. Plus, it's just not worth it. Cold is miserable. Everyone turns into monsters and my students hate it even more. Imagine sitting in a freezing cold classroom with no heat and broken windows. It's basically sitting outside (in the shade)... you wouldn't like it either.

Enough complaining about the cold. We have one more week of exams at school... I cannot believe the first semester is already almost finished! I actually finished my exams (and grading and reporting!) yesterday because my MOM IS COMING ON WEDNESDAY!!! We have quite the vacation planned: safaris, my school, climbing some mountains, and then we'll end our time together in Cape Town (probably my new favorite place). I am so thrilled to be able to share my new life here with someone from home. I put plenty of blankets on her bed too, and will graciously share my heater :)

As always, I have many stories from the past month to share and I'll do my best with the time I still have in town before Vodacom closes for the day. First and most recent...

The other week I made a batch of chili. I started with dry beans, cooked them, let them soak, added spices, cooked them some more (dry beans take FOREVER to cook), and worked on the other ingredients too. I was so excited. I'd inherited chili powder and cumin from other volunteers when they left so I had the fixins for a really delicious pot of chili. It turned out really well. Not so spicy that I couldn't taste everything, but it packed enough heat to warm me up. I've also almost perfected bread-making, so I had some tasty bread to go with my chili. The first batch was so good that when it was finished, I decided to make another batch. Now, I decided this late in the evening. Ok, it was actually only about 6:30 but I usually crawl into bed to read or watch a movie on my iPod around 7. It was getting late. I put the beans on to boil and got ready for bed. I crawled into bed and watched a movie, blew out my lamp, rolled over and went to sleep.

The next morning I woke up to one of the most foul smells I have ever encountered. I had left my burner on. All night. The beans had hydrated, cooked, and completely dehydrated to tiny little shriveled black nuggets of burn. To make matters worse, I had unplugged my carbon monoxide detector because it goes off whenever I bake bread or have my heater on, both of which I had done. Before you scold me, please understand I completely realize all the dangers of this. I could have burned my house down. I could have suffered carbon monoxide poisoning. I could have... and the list goes on. I am alive and completely fine (I sleep with my bedroom door closed which helped a lot), though my house still smells terribly of burned beans. This was on Tuesday night. It is now Saturday and my house STILL gives off the odor of burn. My students tell me I smell like tobacco. Gross. Lesson learned. I will not cook dry beans overnight ever again.

In better news, the alternator for the school's main generator has been fixed. I finally got all the money from Hilbert Middle and High Schools and my principal will go and pick it up hopefully sometime this week! One more step on the long way to electricity! Thanks again, Hilbert - we could not have done it without you!

Last week we decided to take the students out to the dirt road from the main road to my village and do some road work. They had shovels, pick axes, wheelbarrows and a lot of patience. We split the students by class, so my group, the Form B students, were second farthest from school. In all modesty, I worked harder than most of my students, but it was great fun. We picked up rocks and put them into the big crevices in the road to try to even it out. Some of the boys would go and chop up termite mounds and bring big chunks of them to smash into the smaller cracks that wouldn't hold rocks. We had it down to a system.

It was interesting though, trying to explain to students why exactly we were out doing work on the road. "It's just the right thing to do" didn't quite cut it, so I took a different approach. I asked them where they ate lunch each day and how they thought the food magically appeared in the kitchen. That seemed to work a bit better... Ultimately, I'm not sure if they really understood the significance or the reason we were out there, but I was so proud of all the students. Plus it gave me an excuse to throw some big rocks around and impress them with how strong I am. Ha.

As I was walking out of my village this morning (before I got a lift - all the way to town!), I walked past some funeral tents. Apparently the former chief of a neighboring village passed away. Men were out working on the tent and manly things while the women were bustling around making preparations involving food and hospitality things. At that same moment, Sarah McLachlan's song "World on Fire" shuffled onto my iPod. If you haven't heard the song, give it a listen. Actually, even better, go to youtube and look up the music video. Homework for the weekend - ponder that song.

I've been reading a book called "Dead Aid" ... about how aid in Africa is not only not helping, but actually hindering African development. It's an interesting concept - check it out if you get a chance. It's really an interesting combination. The song and the book... it really struck me this morning.

The rest of the weekend will hopefully be relaxing. I have some laundry to do before Mom comes, but depending on the water situation I may have to postpone that. Too bad. A teacher friend and I are planning on baking apple pie tomorrow, even though I have never in my life successfully made a pie crust. I can make graham cracker crusts like it's my job, but pie crust will be interesting. (Brian - I'll let you know how it goes!) I am, thankfully, an apple expert, so that part is well taken care of.

Well, my computer is about charged and actually my fingers are getting a little chilly. Hope all is well at home in the great US of A. Enjoy the summer (and being done with school)... congrats to the graduates (my brother and several friends :) !!)

Love from Africa,

Katie

Greetings and Happy Spring!

At least I imagine it to be springtime there. Here it is definitely fall, though probably closer to winter. The temps at night are pretty chilly, but thankfully when the sun is out, it’s not too bad. Apologies for not writing more frequently. I always intend to, but then find something else to do. I’ve also been journaling more frequently, so I feel as though I have less to tell you all, even though that’s clearly not the case.

The first quarter of the school year just ended before Easter. Because Easter was so late this year, the first quarter was unusually long. I was definitely ready for a vacation. Ever since I arrived in Lesotho and heard about the Two Oceans Marathon in Cape Town, I knew I wanted to run it. Last year we registered too late; all 14,000 spaces had been filled. This year we registered much earlier; there was no way I would miss the race two years in a row.

The marathon is always on the day before Easter. There is an ultra marathon (56km or about 35 miles) and a half marathon (standard 21.1km or 13.1 miles). I opted for the half, even though I’ve run two full marathons before. I was concerned about training and just how painful an ultra might be. Part of the tradition of this race (for other volunteers at least) is renting a car and driving from Bloemfontein to Cape Town (look on a map… it is a long distance). So on Wednesday morning last week, we made it to the border by 6am, were in Bloemfontein by 8, the airport by 9, McDonalds at 10 and on the road to CT by 11. We drove and drove… and drove some more. We were 8 altogether, two cars full of very excited runners and supporters.

We had two cute little cars, not too much leg room and even less trunk space, but we had music (iTrips must be one of the best inventions) so we were fine. I was one of the registered drivers (one of the few manual drivers) so I pulled the car around to load it up, turned it off and went inside to get the copilot and passengers so we could take off. We loaded the trunk (very full) and piled in, only to find out that the car would not start. I tried everything. I jiggled the steering wheel; I gave it a little gas as it was starting; I turned it completely off, locked the doors, unlocked the doors, crossed my fingers and tried again. Nothing. Finally, after a frustrating couple of minutes, I went back in to the desk and explained the situation. The man who had showed me where the car was came back out and said he’d take care of it. He tried everything I did and then started fiddling with the fuel hose (I think? That’s what a friend said it was at least) … still no luck. We went back in and the manager behind the desk said, “Forget about that one, I’ll upgrade you, free of charge, so you won’t have to worry about your car starting when you’re actually on your trip.” SCORE! UPGRADE! We were pretty psyched, imagining all sorts of large vehicles with ample leg room and some other super fancy features. Ha. Boy, were we wrong. The upgrade did indeed have a little more leg room and definitely more oomph than its predecessor, but noticeably less trunk space. It was a tight fit, but we made it work (story of Peace Corps, really) and got on the road.

The drive was long. Very, very long. We made only a few stops for gas and snack breaks and still only made it to Cape Town at 11pm. Now, I’ve never really lived in a city. I grew up in suburbia, went to school in very rural Iowa and currently live in a very rural village in Lesotho. I have never been a city driver. However, I was behind the wheel and had to find our hostel… let’s just say I learned city driving pretty quickly. I managed to stay on the correct side of the road (the left side) and go the correct way on one-way streets. We only got a little lost coming in to the city, but that was easily fixed. Parking was another story though. To park in front of our hostel was about R10 at night, or R9 per hour during the day. We ended up parking the cars a 30minute walk away, in a sort of residential area. This way we didn’t have to worry about being towed or spending a fortune (parking ramps were definitely not any cheaper).

The next day we spent primarily in town. We walked around, taking in the sights and sounds. It may have been because we’d all been in Lesotho so long, but everyone loved Cape Town. It has anything anyone could ever want. There is a beach not too far away, a huge mall (not quite MoA, but still, very large), plenty of outdoorsy things to do (Table Mountain or other hikes), nice bays and Cape Point not too far, Robben Island (regrettably we didn’t make this trip), penguins at Boulders and so much to do and see in town as well. The food was phenomenal. We ate like kings and queens. I think my favorite meals had to be Mexican (frozen blended margaritas!), sushi (real sushi, not the kind Kimiko and I make, which is also delicious but without fish), and a restaurant called Eastern Food Bazaar. EFB had every kind of eastern Asian food imaginable, in generous portions for very reasonable prices. The menu spanned the whole back wall and the restaurant was the length of a city block, but in the middle, so there were two entrances. It smelled amazing and tasted even better. The chefs prepared your food before your eyes and then you took it and sat down at a table to eat. We all left incredibly full but very satisfied, and willing to go back the next day. There were also a couple nights we ate in – one night we made pizza and another (the pre-race night) pasta. Those were also excellent meals even though they are common for us in Lesotho when we get together.

We spent the next day (Friday) at Kalk Bay, visiting the delicious bakery there and walking along the beach, taking in the sights. There was also a bookstore that lured us all in (until we caught a glimpse of the prices!). We had lunch there at a nice little restaurant – lots of pasta with seafood. Kalk Bay is also home to the original (yes, the very first) Fish’n’Chips place, called Kalky’s. We looked at the line and the runners agreed – greasy food maybe wasn’t the best option the afternoon before a race, so we opted for the café instead.

Saturday was the big day. The alarm went off at 3:50am. It was kind of cool how all four of the runners got down from the top bunks simultaneously, grabbed clothes and shoes and water, and headed out to get ready. We met in the kitchen for breakfast and coffee and stretching. It was a very entertaining breakfast, as people who had been out the night before were passing through the kitchen on their way to bed. They were all very confused as to why we were awake and especially as to why we were dressed as if we were going to run a marathon (I can’t imagine why!).

We left the hostel right on time, about 4:45am and headed to the parking area we’d found the day before on our drive-around. It was a little ways away from our hostel, so I was really glad to have the cars. We called a couple other friends who were staying with their parents and met up with them as well so we could start the half marathon together, while the two running the ultra split off to get ready. The half started at 6am and the ultra started at 6:25. The cannon went off at 6am sharp, and we didn’t even cross the starting line until 6:05.

I ran a pretty good race. It definitely wasn’t as fast a time as I wanted, but I still feel pretty good about it because there were so many runners I spent over the first 10k (half of the race) simply trying to pass the people I knew I was faster than. There was a substantial hill about 2/3 of the way through the race, and I continued to pass people here. I want to believe that was my altitude training kicking in, but I really can’t tell. The last 3-4km were a bit rough; it seemed like the last 5 or so were all gradually uphill, which really hurt after I had been pushing myself so hard the first part of the race.

I finished in 1hour, 59minutes. I’m pleased with sub-2 hours and know I could have done better if it weren’t for all the people I had to try to pass early on in the race. All in all, a fun time, though the crowd did not cheer nearly as much as that of the Twin Cities Marathon.

After we met up with other friends who’d finished, the big group of us went to the International hospitality tent, where we were served lasagna, sandwiches, salad, bread, fruit and whatever we wanted to drink. It was a nice post-run meal and a good chance to meet some of my friends’ parents who had come to visit them and see them run, as well as see Lesotho and Cape Town. Then, a handful of us made our way back to meet up with the ultra runners as they were on their home stretch. We ran with each of them for maybe a kilometer or two, to boost them on towards the finish line. Both were in pretty serious pain but they both finished in great time.

The rest of the day we relaxed and walked a little to try to ease up the soreness and stiffness. That evening we had dinner with all the parents and volunteers who were there at a nice Portugese (I think?) place. I don’t remember much from that night except that the food was good and I was incredibly tired. When we got back to the hostel, I took a quick nap and told my friends to wake me up when we were going to go out. Instead, I woke up at 2am with my contacts in and my clothes on. The room was dark; my friends had already gone to bed. I obviously missed the fun. The next morning when I asked them why they didn’t get me up to go out, they said they tried and I got really sassy and told them to leave me alone so I could sleep. Ha! Ultimately, I think that was the better option.

Sunday was kind of crummy. It alternated between drizzle and light rain the whole day. We drove down towards Cape Point and saw the penguin colony at Boulders (near Simons Town). Penguins have long been one of my favorite animals so it was incredible to see them so close! I have more pictures of penguins from the trip than everything else combined (I unfortunately didn’t take many photos). We piled into the cars again and were off to explore Cape Point. It ended up costing more than we wanted to pay, so we just found a little beach to walk around and take some pictures, pretending like we were at the point.

We had Eastern Food Bazaar for dinner and then went out on Long Street. It was so fun to be out after dark and see people other than volunteers and Basotho! Monday was the last day in Cape Town, so we had to make it good. We’d seen an advertisement for all-you-can-eat sushi and decided that sounded like a good lunch option. When we got to the restaurant, we realized it was only between 6 and 9pm, for dinner. We had sushi anyway, and headed to the waterfront to see the mall and other sights. We had draft beer at a nice Belgian restaurant and brewery, and watched people at the pier. I went with the Swazi volunteers around the mall before heading back to the hostel to get ready for Mexican food for dinner.

We went out again on Long street on Monday night, since it was the last night there, and had McDonalds at 3am. Oh, the joys of civilization! I realize the above is just a very brief summary of my trip and I do hope to write more, but the generator just turned off and I want to save some battery for the weekend… plus, the chief of the village and all the teachers and male students are outside, trying to deal with a man who apparently just tried to kidnap some girl and marry her. Cultural differences indeed!

I’ll fill you in on that after I figure out what’s happening. Until then, I hope all is well in the States and in your lives.

My love from Africa,

-Katie

Greetings friends and family,

I’m having a hard time believing February is almost over, but I find myself writing exams because it is the end of the month. The sixth week of school is coming to a close and its time to find out exactly how much my students have learned. They’ll write math tomorrow, and physics early next week, just in time to welcome March.

This week marked the start of preparation for our track and field day next week; students started practicing running, jumping and throwing. On Monday, we separated boys and girls and took them running. Some of the girls really were not thrilled about having to run and stopped after less than ten minutes, but there are definitely some natural athletes. I’ve run a crowded marathon before, but when I was running with over a hundred girls, I was beyond crowded, plus the ground was really uneven. I think I probably elbowed several girls in the head and may have stepped on a few, but we made it. The most amusing thing to me was that when they run, they all run in sync. Left, right, left, right… and they sing to the beat of their stomping feet while they run. Now, I can carry on easy conversation while I run but singing is out of the question. It was definitely an experience.

On Tuesday, I took the girls running long distances with me on my training run. We went out on one of my favorite routes and stopped to stretch a while before turning back. On the way back, we did a line drill where the last person has to run up and pull ahead of the first person. At first they were confused, but once they understood what we were doing, they ran fast. I guess it didn’t click with them that the faster the first person goes, the faster everyone else has to go too. We sprinted to the finish – the girls I was running the drill with all outran me. They are so lucky to be African and living at such a high elevation. I was amazed so many of them could keep up with me on a training run when so few of them exercise regularly, if at all.

Today we added jumping to the mix. I’ve seen some talented athletes at various track meets, but watching some of these kids jump… wow. Their long jump technique seemed ok (not like I know a whole lot), but the high jump was pretty amusing. Rather than coming at the jump from off to one side, they came at it straight on, and somehow managed to land on their feet (most of the time). I’ll take some photos and video next week when the students compete so I can post them or show you all when I get home. I saw some amazing jumpers today.

Teaching continues to keep me partly busy and pretty entertained. Earlier this week, I was talking with my students about something we did last year in math, and I made some joke about their math teacher last year and teasing them about how lucky they were to have me again this year. A couple of them were so sweet, “Madam, and you will teach us next year for our JC exam!” It broke my heart to tell them that I’d most likely be back in America. “Oh, madam! You can only teach us here for two years?” I said yes, but that I would miss them terribly, and as soon as their exam results were released, I would call Ntate Kolobe to ask how they had done. One boy, sometimes troublesome, but always quick to respond, looks at me and says completely sincerely, “Madam, you can just change your name and come back for two more years!” I almost died.

Today I taught physics in Form A1. Because it was the last class for them before their exam next week, we finished the lesson a little early. I gave them the scope of their exam, and asked if they had any questions. For the longest time, they have been (seemingly) terrified of me, very quiet and respectful in class, hesitant to raise their hands, ask questions, or respond to anything I ask as I teach. Something must have changed recently because all of a sudden they were interested in everything. “Madam, do you speak Sesotho?” “I know some words but I’m not very good at it.” I told them I spoke some Spanish and Italian and they wanted to know if I knew French. One way people ggreet each other here (usually men) is “Ola” … it absolutely blew their minds that “ola” comes from the Spanish “Hola.” The boys were all giggles as I showed them how to say hello or good morning in Spanish, French, Portugese and Italian.

Then came the questions about America. “Madam, how did you get to Lesotho?” … “What do you think – do you think I walked?” … “No, madam, I think you took an airplane!” … “Yes, you’re right, but I actually took three plans.” … “Ach, madam, it’s too many! How many days did you take?” I gave them the condensed version of how I got to Lesotho from Minnesota. Then they wanted to know what I did before I came. When I told them I was a student not so long ago, they asked how many babies I had (by far one of the funniest questions I get). I said, “No babies! I’m too young for babies!” which of course leads to the question about a husband: “Nope, no husband either.” “Ah, but madam, how old are you?!” I like this question too, and my response is always the same: “How old do you think I am?” Their guesses are funny; today’s were especially so. “18!” Nope. “30!” Not quite. “20!” Closer… Finally a student from last year chipped in and they came to 23. Then came a lot of mumbling in Sesotho and I imagine they were thinking of their closest relative who is nearly my age, trying to set us up. It has happened before.

There are a couple boys who are especially characters. Last week when I overheard them speaking in Sesotho (strictly forbidden, especially in the classroom where the language of instruction is English). I asked them, “Gentlemen, why are you using Sesotho? What would Ntate Kolobe think?” They looked up at me and, without missing a beat, one of them responded, “No, madam, it is Afrikaans!” I had to give him credit for that one.

I’m really enjoying having fewer classes this year. I feel like I’m much better able to get to know students and work with the students (and teachers) in other ways. I’ve been able to sit in on Form E math and English lessons so far, and hope to observe more classes as the year progresses. Math class was especially helpful because I got to see firsthand what students are struggling with, even in Form E. Later in the year, I’m really hoping to help lead some study sessions, or just act as a tutor for them. The exams they’ll write in October are pretty challenging, and it really is hard to completely cover a syllabus in one year.

I was helping some students with math problems last weekend. They’d brought in several probability problems and after we’d exhausted those, they pulled out some old exams. There were some questions that I had to think about for a little bit before I could jump in and help them; the key to the proof wasn’t immediately apparent. I followed my intuition and eventually we came to the solution. They were SO impressed. “Ah, madam, you need to be teaching Form D and E, not just A and B!” I cannot even express how good that made me feel. It also made me wonder if they think I don’t know mathematics as well as the other teachers who teach it at higher levels. In any case, I cherish that compliment.

Plans for April are firming up – it’s less than 2 months until departure for Cape Town and the Two Oceans (Half) Marathon! – we have a place to stay in CT as well as a pair of cars rented for the appropriate dates. I need to keep my training up, which shouldn’t be too much of an issue, as long as the rain is reasonable. It’s been raining off and on at night, but thankfully nothing quite as intense as 3 straight days of rain. Sunday was my first long run around home. From the junction with the tar road, I went a ways to a T in the road, then turned around and ran back to school. It was 70 minutes (probably about 8 miles) and I honestly felt great, even though it was the heat of the day (I gobbed on the sunscreen though, so thankfully my face is still on).

Other things to look forward to include: Athletics Day (aka Track and Field Day), next Friday. March 11th is Moshoeshoe’s (moh-SHWAY-shway) Day and rumor has it the teachers might be taking a trip up north to one of the parks. Nothing has been verified but that doesn’t mean it can’t be thrown together in the last minute. Even if we don’t take a trip, I’m sure something fun will come up; after all, it’s a long weekend!

Time now to type up a couple physics exams (so they can be copied tomorrow) and then sleep. Since I was on duty last week, I got used to waking up shortly after 6… a habit that has stuck around well into this week. Anyone who knows me even a little is likely well aware that I love my sleep, and if I don’t get enough, well, it’s not pretty. I’m worried that if I take a nap I won’t sleep at night, so I don’t nap. I just try to sleep earlier and earlier each night, but of course that doesn’t work. After athletics practice, we usually play some soccer. Then cooking, cleaning, classwork… early bed just doesn’t work. Ok, enough complaining. Hope this finds you all healthy and happy in life. I’m thrilled people still enjoy hearing about my remote little life in Lesotho, so thank you for reading.

Love from Africa,

-Katie

Hello from a new (slightly used) computer!

My old iBook finally pooped out. It was close to 6 years old, and after battling the battery every time I wanted to use it without a consistent power source, the display finally stopped... well, it stopped displaying. Thankfully, I have an amazing stepfather, who found a gently-used computer, basically the same as my other one. It doesn't have everything my other one had (yet), but thankfully I managed to back up most of my music and photos on a big external harddrive, so all I need is software. No big deal! The battery on this puppy lasts quite a while, so I can hopefully update this blog more frequently.

We're now in the 5th (I think) week of school. I'm teaching only 14 credits (last year I had 20). I'm teaching Physics to Forms A and B, just like last year, and this year I have half of the Form B Math, B1 only. I like having only one math class - it means we move at their pace without worrying about the other class getting too far ahead or behind. I believe the other teacher is actually ahead of us, but I'm not too concerned yet. It has been quite a blessing to have so few. I've been able to start on some projects in the extra time.

First, I've begun repainting the murals that were done several years ago by the first volunteer at Sekameng. I have 5 liters of paint and I'll have to get more soon, there are several big walls that need to be re-done. I just hope I can do them justice - the murals are stunning! Then there's the school gym that my counterpart and I are working on. The first step was finding a good room to host the gym. Our two options were: a room that is so full of broken desks and doors that it's impossible to enter, and a room that filthy dirty and partly full of the school's old typewriters (they apparently used to offer typewriting as a subject!) ... with help from some of the senior students, we managed to clean out the typewriters and load them (on two different occasions) into the back of the school's truck. My principal then took them to a dump in Maseru somewhere... I don't even want to think about how much of a hassle that must have been, but the important thing is the room is empty! The next steps: finding a way to lock the room, collect containers, buy cement and start playing around, constructing barbells and equipment! If you have any suggestions for creating your own gym equipment, please let me know! Finally, we started a math problem-solving competition last week. Several teachers and I will meet with any interested students each week to give them several problems to try to solve. Last week it was 3; that seemed to be a good number. Each problem is worth one point, and then the student at the end of the quarter with the most points will win some sort of prize (to be determined - again, any suggestions?). It was pretty funny last week watching their faces as they struggled to solve the problems. Most got none correct, and only a handful scored one point - some by luck! I think I'll go for easier problems this week, haha.

The school is still selling eggs. I've still not implemented the br-egg-fast program, but as more and more students are asking to go to the village shop to buy breakfast, I'm becoming more and more convinced that we should. Unfortunately right now the (raw) eggs are in high enough demand that I feel bad buying them and boiling them. I think I'll wait a little while, until there are actually trays to spare.

The external exam results from 2010 for Sekameng were pretty good. We had a few students earn first class (a big deal for the school!) and overall, they scored very well. It helps the teachers because it means we can tell the students to work harder if they want to score well on their exams. In fact I threatened my students to get serious just this morning. The results also brought news for our librarian; he scored well enough on math (the only subject he was rewriting) to apply to (and most likely attend) Accounting School next semester... so we lose Rethabile in June. This year, he has been wonderful. The other day, he asked me to help him teach the new students about the library. He brought small groups of the Form A students in and asked them (very teacher-like) questions about how to use the library, or why someone might come to the library. He explained to them (in good English) how it works and encouraged them to come explore. I was thrilled! We are really going to miss him, but he needs to start the next chapter in his life. He'll do well wherever he is; he works harder than most of the other teachers and is a fantastic role model for the other students. Last weekend I realized the school he'll be attending in Maseru is right across the street from the office, so hopefully if I do need to go to town, we can at least meet up!

The weather continues to be hot, though thankfully not quite as hot (or humid!) as Mozambique was. We've been getting rain fairly regularly, which helps cool things down, but makes running quite a feat. If there is too much rain, the school becomes a swamp and the village a giant mudhole. I'm told it'll start cooling down in mid to late March. I started my countdown. My garden is doing alright except for the fact that it's sort of under a peach tree. This peach tree has produced only a few (nasty looking) hard rocks of peaches... but that seems to be exactly what the students like. So they're jumping around in my garden, crushing my peas, beans, basil, cucumbers, trying to get these disgusting excuses for peaches. I've tried to warn them to stay out (and I'm sure they make fun of me for it behind my back), but they always manage to stomp on something. I have managed to make several batches of pesto. The first was too big for me to eat before it started smelling not so like pesto, so I baked it into bread. The second was a birthday gift for my friend whose basil was apparently eaten by neighboring cows. Ha.

This past weekend, I went up north with several friends to do a massive training run for the half-marathon in April. Two of them are registered for the ultra (something like 34 miles), but the other two of us (Adam and I) are only doing the half. Thank goodness. The ultra runners started at one volunteer's house and ran to meet the other two of us partway between, and then go back to Adam's. They left around 8am. We left around 9am. We ran to the pre-determined meeting point and ended up waiting several hours. I think we finally met up with them close to noon, and were home by 1:30. The route from Adam's was mostly an enormous downhill... so returning was uphill. Needless to say I didn't run much of it... walking suited me just fine. My best guess is that I ran between 9-12 miles, and the crazy two think they put in closer to 20-24 but nobody knows for sure... we haven't quite made it to map-my-run yet. We were all pretty tired (and dehydrated) afterwards. I managed to get sunburned (African sun and all...). Yesterday my forehead was peeling and it freaked my students out pretty bad. "Madam, your face is coming off!" I had to explain that no, it was not "coming off," I just got sunburned and this was natural. I'm not sure they were convinced. Now it's my upper back... thankfully that's easier to cover up with a t-shirt. My legs were pretty sore for a while (I haven't done a long run like that in ages!) but yesterday and this morning I ran and felt pretty good. I think I'm in decent shape for this point in my training, which is reassuring.

I've gotten some emails or facebook messages asking about Cairo... unfortunately Egypt is no longer in the travel plans, even though it might be safe by the time June rolls around. Thankfully, we never actually bought those tickets (though I was concerned about how much the price was going to go up after Christmas - it ended up being for the best). We decided instead to just travel around South Africa (hopefully Cape Town/wine region, Kruger/safari!) and Lesotho (my site and Malealea for the waterfall and hiking). Let's hope nothing too drastic happens in South Africa and we're still allowed to travel there!

I think that's a fairly accurate update of my life right now... I'm just waiting for a software update and my battery to charge... I hope all is well at home. Sending all my love from Africa,

-Katie

January 6, 2011

Happy New Year!

I cannot believe it is already 2011… or should I say I cannot believe how quickly (and simultaneously slowly!) 2010 passed. It was an eventful year, that’s for sure… plenty of ups and downs, maybe a few sideways too. My entire 2010 was spent in Lesotho (with few exceptions as I journeyed to other parts of southern Africa), which amazes me. I never thought I would spend more than an entire year away from America, but here I am, still plugging away.

My summer holidays have also flown by. One year ago tomorrow (January 7th) I swore in as an official Peace Corps Volunteer; in a week and a half, I’ll be starting my second (and final!) year of teaching. Thanks to lots of bus trips recently (gotta love vacations on a PC budget!), I’ve had time to reflect on the past year and sort of figure out what I want from 2011. I don’t know that I have any official resolutions, but I think 2011 will be a good year.

Shortly after Christmas, my friend (Kimiko) and I ventured up to Mozambique. It was quite the endeavor just to get there: 5-6 hour taxi from Maseru to Pretoria, then an overnight bus from Pretoria to Maputo. Now in order to enter Mozambique, one needs a traveler’s visa, which we had not managed to secure before departure. This meant several things. First, InterCape had the right to deny us our seats on the bus (we prayed they wouldn’t and thankfully they had mercy). It also meant that we still needed to get them… so when we arrived at the border to Mozambique, we had to get out of the bus (mind you this is approximately 5am) and run. We ran along all the cars waiting to go through the border, we ran to get our passports stamped out of South Africa, and we ran to the desk where we could apply for (and hopefully receive) our visas into Mozambique.

Now, Moz is a great place (really, I loved almost every minute of it) but in Southern Africa, it is high summer, and Moz is mostly coastline and jungle-ish so it was beyond humid. I’m not quite sure how hot it actually got, but it was definitely a rude awakening from our comfortable air-conditioned slumbers on the bus.

The funny thing about a couple people running for something with a lot of other people around is that it inspires everyone to start running. Soon, probably a third of the passengers from our bus were running with us, as well as some of the locals. I doubt they had any reason to run, but I’m sure when a lot of foreigners are running towards your border post, you feel like you might be missing something. We got to the desk (absolutely dripping) and frantically began filling out the application. Thankfully we were all working together – it was pretty confusing. After a hefty fine and a photo (before which I was not warned, so I look appropriately grumpy), I had my visa in my passport and Kimiko and I were running back to the bus. I’m not sure whether the bus would have actually left anyone behind or not, but the guy giving us directions had us just scared enough to think he might.

Back on the bus, we relaxed and “ooh-ed” and “aah-ed” as we passed mango trees and palm trees and caught an occasional glimpse of the ocean… taking in our new surroundings. Unfortunately for us, the air conditioning on the bus had been turned off, so we were left sweating for the remaining hour and a half to Mozambique’s capital.

Our hostel picked us up from the bus stop so we didn’t have to wait too long before we could go somewhere and shower. That day we walked around Maputo, taking in the sights and sounds (and smells!), visiting the craft market, the fish market, walking along the beach… it truly was (a very hot and humid) paradise.

Along the beach, there were carts where men were cutting coconuts up. We had to try one… several chops and two straws later, we were drinking fresh coconut milk. Wow. We stopped at the next cart. Several more chops and we had two spoon/scrapers made from the shell. We were both in heaven – fresh coconut milk and then the softest, sweetest coconut flesh I have ever tasted.

Next up was the fish market. You could smell it a mile away, but it didn’t smell bad fishy, just fresh fishy. As tourists, we stuck out, and were soon joined by a guy who claimed his name was Joe (I think?). He said he was a chef and worked at a nice restaurant; he wanted to help us find fish and cook it for us. Of course he did. Nonetheless, it was nice to have some sort of a guide around the chaos of a fish market: crabs, lobster, mussels, fish, prawns, clams… they had everything, freshly caught that morning, just waiting for us to buy it, cook it and eat it.

We settled on some kind of fish (forgive me, I don’t remember the name) and relaxed in the shade while our meal was being prepared. Now, I like to think I’ve had some good fish in my life (my aunt’s salmon, for example, or surf and turf on New Years), but this topped them all. I don’t want to even try to put it into words; it was just that good.

Bellies full, we meandered back towards the beach and caught a small rickshaw-like open-air taxi that couldn’t have held more than two people. It brought us around town a while and ultimately back to the craft market. We made some (way too many, ha) purchases and headed back to the hostel, picking up food for dinner.

As we were preparing food and eating, we met some other Peace Corps Volunteers from Swaziland… an awesome addition to our vacation. We were both pretty exhausted, so almost immediately after dinner, we went to bed, anticipating the early shuttle up to Tofo the next morning.

Well, the shuttle that was supposed to be leaving at 6am didn’t end up leaving until shortly after 11am. It turns out Mozambique is also on African time. The shuttle took us close to 10 hours with potty breaks (for all 30 passengers who have been drinking water and other things since 6am) and frequent mini-bus maintenance checks. We were all a little frustrated since this delay seriously cut into our beach time, but there wasn’t really anything to do. This is Africa; deal with it.

The backpackers where we stayed in Tofo was absolutely huge. There was a large space set aside for camping (if you brought your own tent), several tents provided by the hostel with cots inside, plenty of dorms and maybe even a few doubles. I don’t think I’ve ever stayed in such a (relatively) small place with so many people! It had a stage set up for the Tofo Earth Festival (there was live music every night we were there), and of course a set of stairs leading right down to the beach. We stayed in a dorm for 16 people. Yes. Sixteen people. There were 8 bunk beds, each with two mosquito nets (one top, one bottom) and (get ready for it) exactly two ceiling fans to cool all 16 of us down. Needless to say, we sweat through each night; the fans were barely any comfort.

The weather up in Tofo was actually hotter and more humid (I thought at least) than Maputo. The ocean was right there, so thankfully I could “cool down” whenever I wanted to, but as soon as I got out, the sun would dry me off (and burn me), and then I’d go right back to being hot again. Plus, the ocean itself was bathtub temperature – not very refreshing.

Kimiko and I sort of did our own thing most of the time, and that worked well. We each got what we wanted out of the vacation and still had a blast when we were together. I spent a lot of time on the beach and in the water with the Swazi PCVs. It felt like every five minutes (when I wasn’t in the water, bouncing in the waves) I was reapplying sunscreen, and somehow I still managed to burn. I blame the malaria medicine (and the fact that I instantly sweat off any lotion I applied).

On the first afternoon in Tofo, a jellyfish stung me. It was kind of neat to say that I’d been stung, and as silly as it sounds, I was strangely proud of my encounter. The next day, a friend picked one up, discovered it was moving, and also that his hand stung quite bad. I told him we should start a club.

Whale sharks apparently number only around one thousand in the world’s oceans, and almost a third of those are said to be off the cost of Mozambique, specifically Inhambane, where we were. I have several friends (who have also been to Tofo) who swam with whale sharks and couldn’t recommend it highly enough. Sadly, they had more luck than we did. The guide and driver of our boat didn’t have a lot of luck locating any whale sharks, so after maybe 30 minutes of driving around looking, they stopped by a reef and let us hop in to cool down. It felt great to get into the water, but Kimiko and I (and the other ocean safari-goers) swam through a herd (pack? gang? flock?) of jellyfish, and were stung all up and down our arms. I stopped feeling special and started hating the little buggers. As I learned from Finding Nemo, the heads don’t sting, only the long flowy tentacles… which are really hard to see. They’re also longer than (I thought) they should be, so even if you see the top and try to avoid them, the arms usually manage to get you anyway. The second time I got in the water was to try to swim with dolphins who were hanging around the boat, I got stung on the mouth… and called it quits.

The coolest part for me was definitely seeing dolphins. They would come up and jump in groups of two or three, and once got quite close to the boat. I’ve seen dolphins in the Zoo before, where they swim around and around that tank, but this was different. To happen to see many of them out in their natural habitat was incredible, and to be in the water with them would have been amazing.

We didn’t have a chance to go again the next day (even though we could have because we didn’t swim with anything) because we headed back to Maputo, but it is definitely something I would try again! Even though we had pretty bad luck with the animals, it was so nice to be on a boat again. I was counting the months since I’ve been to my cabin and I think it’s close to a year and a half since I’ve been in a boat!

Even though we spent a fair amount of time at the market in Maputo, the market in Tofo still drew us in almost every day. The mangoes cost 5 to 10 meticais ($1=m32) and were absolutely perfectly ripe. I learned how to peel them with my teeth (thanks to my friend from Grinnell for inspiration!) but still got juice all over every time. The produce was stunning – so many bright colors of every fruit and vegetable; I was in heaven. The arts and crafts were also beautiful: paintings, wood-carvings, jewelry made from bone and shell and wood… it was hard not to want to buy everything. All the artists had a story: one learned their trade from his grandfather; one was trying to get through school and did art on the side to pay the bills… each greeted us with a smile and tried to charge us way too much. From everything I read, the markets have two prices, one for the natives and one for the tourists, and bargaining is expected. I’ve never been particularly good at selling things, and apparently I’m not very good at buying them either. I felt wrong trying to tell these people that their hard work wasn’t worth that much to me, that I didn’t want to pay (the equivalent of) $10, I would only pay $3. I got over it enough to buy souvenirs.

-------------------------

Unfortunately, I’m currently running out of time in town before things start to close up, so I’ll end this, my Moz: Part 1 update, and promise to write more later.

Hope all is well in the wonderful land of America!

Love from Africa,

-Katie

Greetings and warm holiday wishes!

It's 11pm on Christmas Eve (Santa comes soon!) and I'm watching Love Actually with a friend. It's definitely not the traditional Christmas Eve for me, but it's very nice in a way.

We started cooking at around 3 (even though neither of us were super hungry). Dinner consisted of garlic steamed green beans, garlic mashed potatoes, and spaghetti with a delicious chunky sauce. Dessert was an attempt at Christmas cookies - I think the dough was a bit too runny, so they just mushed together... we named it a cookie loaf. It tasted great but looked a bit questionable. Anyway, we were most of the way done with cooking (we only had pasta left to cook) when the electricity went out. Normally, that's not a problem, but we were using an electric stove... so it was a problem. Thankfully, I had heated water in an electric water heater earlier (to eventually use for the pasta), so we just poured some of it on the pasta, to try and let them soak it up. Neither of us were sure if it would work and if the pasta would actually cook. About ten or fifteen minutes later, we drained that water and added more new hot water. It actually cooked the pasta - amazing!

Dinner was by candlelight (like most of my dinners in this country, hah) and we ate and talked for quite a while before the power eventually came back on! It was our own little Christmas miracle - plus it makes one heck of a story.

Almost a week ago, I made my way up to Mokhotlong, one of the most remote districts in Lesotho, to visit friends there. After a 12-hour travel day, I arrived in the mountains to a freshly baked loaf of bread - so delicious. We spent time in her village and camptown, and made the trek to Sani Top/Sani Pass, the border crossing that boasts the highest pub in Africa. There were four of us going, so we figured we could hire a 4+1 (standard taxi: 4 passengers, 1 driver) to bring us the 2-ish hours along the dirt road to the top of the pass. The car arrived at Sara's house around 7am and we were off. The road was indeed pretty terrible, but the mountains were gorgeous. I had my head out the window for a lot of the ride taking pictures of the landscape and scenery. After about an hour, the driver stopped at what appeared to be a small river running across the road. He got out and made some funny noises conveying to us his doubt in the ability of his vehicle to safely get us across. He got back in the car and told us he thought he could do it, but that we should get out. We scrambled out of the car and he started it up again... sure enough, it inched across the river successfully. We piled back in and continued on our merry way. This happened several more times along the way; once we even had to move some big rocks out of the way. Then we got stuck going up a hill... so we had to get out and push the car. Now I've heard stories about other volunteers having to get out and push a car that gets stuck, but I'd never done it... well, now I have. The kicker is that once the car started moving, I didn't know enough to run and jump into the back seat (think Little Miss Sunshine), so I had to hike up a huge hill behind the car.

Eventually, he stopped the car in front of another hill with a lot of big rocks jutting up (they surely would have wrecked the bottom of the car) and told us he just couldn't continue. We got out, paid him, assured him we were fine, and started hiking. The volunteers who had been to Sani before told me there was at least another hour in a taxi before we'd arrive... I wasn't sure how long we'd hike, but figured it'd be a while.

After about ten minutes of walking, we heard a mini-bus taxi coming up the road, and lucky for us, it was empty! We clambered in and relaxed the rest of the way there - no worries about whether or not that vehicle would make it! We reached Sani Top maybe an hour and a half later, and it was absolutely breathtaking. From the Lesotho side, it's very unassuming, it just looks like a road through some fields with mountains and a river around. As you get closer though, you begin to see the cliffs that drop off into the South Africa side. The border post is on the right, and shortly after you cross the border, the road seems to fall off the edge of the world.

We dropped our stuff at the Backpackers and went over to look at the cliff, take pictures, and have a drink in Africa's Highest Pub. Afternoon brought a nice nap and some card games, then back over to the pub/restaurant for dinner. The view was incredible from the restaurant - we were able to watch huge clouds roll in, and it rained all through dinner. After dinner, we sat on the couches and looked out onto the South Africa side - there was lightning off in the distance and we were at the same height as it. I have never seen lightning like that before.

Next morning, one of the other volunteers woke us up around 4am as he was looking out at the sunrise (the pass is in the East, so the sunrise was rumored to be gorgeous). Somehow, we all decided to throw warm clothes on, grab a camera and head to the edge to watch the sun rise. Best decision of that day; it was SO worth it. I have quite a few pictures of it (as best as a camera like mine can capture something so priceless).

We made it back to Mokhotlong the town with no problems! ... and went right to sleep for several hours to make up for the early morning.

There are plenty of other stories about my time in the mountains that I hope to post at some point, but knowing me and my amazing ability to disappear from my blog for months at a time, that may or may not happen. Mokhotlong, all in all, has been a blast, and I wish it was closer to my site, though I guess that would defeat the purpose.

So now it's Christmas Eve (almost Christmas Day, actually) and it feels nothing like it, except for the movies we're watching or the cards we made earlier this afternoon. It's incredibly difficult being so far away from family and friends, especially during the holidays. Each day is a new record for my longest time away from home. For some reason, this year's Christmas was much more difficult than last year. I'd hear music in the grocery store and shudder and try to tune it out. The mad mobs in all the stores just frustrated me, and the lack of snow was (and still is) painful. I definitely miss the holidays in the States.

That said, it's been a great Christmas (all things considered). I have a wonderful family, both here and at home, and I do know it. This year has gone fast, but next year will pass more quickly, and I WILL be home for Christmas... just not until next year.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Happy New Year...

Love from Africa,

-Katie

As promised, here is another blog update, within a few days at least.

First, a story.

My students have been writing back and forth with a school in the States for most of the year, and recently, when the school year changed in America, so did the number of American students who wanted to write letters with my students. This meant I had to go to my Form B’s as well… Honestly, I’m not sure my Form A students really understand the purpose of the letter-writing. They introduce themselves, talk about their family, their “traditional this or that” and basically say they love the American student. They have done these letters three times now, and most have been the same.

Well, I asked my Form B students if they were interested in writing as well, and, surprise surprise, they were. There weren’t enough for each student to have their own penpal, so I told them to find a partner. I gave each pair a letter and told them I wanted their responses by the end of the week.

By the end of the first week, I had maybe half of the letters I needed. The Form A letters were, as I described, innocent and basically a repeat of what they’ve written previously. The Form B letters on the other hand, were unbelievable. After reading a few, I just figured they would write good letters. Thank goodness my other teacher friends were interested enough to read through EVERY SINGLE ONE.

I read their letters in absolute disbelief at some of the things they were saying. They must have assumed I was acting as a cross-cultural dating service. A common opening line was something like, “My darling sweetheart,” and they frequently threw in words like “babe” or “dear” and several closing lines read something like, “Your handsome, loving boyfriend” or “Your beautiful new girlfriend.” Needless to say, I was stunned at their bravery. There is no way I would write a letter like that to someone I didn’t know! (Or even someone I did know!)

I had to go in to their classes the following week (no, I did NOT send those letters) and explain to them that for Americans, the appeal is only in getting to know another culture, NOT falling in love and marrying someone from that culture. Many Basotho want so much to meet and marry an American because it means they’ll be able to go to America and ultimately become a citizen… and this was painfully apparent in these letters. Several boys mentioned how experienced they were in love – which (according to them) is good, because someone in the relationship should be experienced, so they can teach the other about it. “I am a tall boy, and I am a sexy boy.” was another line… I had a lot of fun reading them and laughing, but had to return them to get a letter that I could send. (They all re-wrote their letters… and I sent them last week. Though it’s getting expensive to send 90 letters in the mail, there is something so priceless about my students’ faces when they get their letters…)

As I posted earlier, this week is now exams, but last week students were still reviewing for their exams. The week before, when I was actually teaching (or trying, in the case of one of my classes), one of my students raised his hand and asked (completely out of the blue), “Madam, what is spinach?” Me: “Um, the vegetable? Like moroho?” Him: “No, madam, the language of … ach, madam, what is spinach?”

Oh. SPANISH. “Well, it’s a language they speak in Spain and Mexico and… well, many parts of the world.”

Him: “Yes, madam. Can you… do you know spinash?”

Me: “Yes, I learned it for many years in school…

I proceeded to absolutely blow their minds by speaking in Spanish for a few minutes. They then insisted I teach them some as well. I wrote several basic phrases on the board like, “¿Hola, cómo estás?” and then they began requesting other things. Something students here say frequently (when their classmates aremaking a lot of noise) is “They are talking.” So I translated that one and gave it to them… and a few more phrases. Meanwhile, someone who had eaten too much something for lunch, passed gas in a really, really smelly way. I’m not sure where they get the word, but they refer to it as “squinching.” Maybe that’s British English, I know not… but sure enough, the next thing out of this smarty-pants’ mouth was, “Madam, how do you say, ‘Someone is squinching’ in spinasch?”

I. Almost. Died.

I explained to him that unfortunately I didn’t know that one… and that in America, we don’t usually use the word squinch. Oops. Of course they wanted to know what we DID use, so I gave him the one my parents used with my sisters as we were all growing up: toot. They thought this was hilarious… and with their little African accents, the word has never sounded so funny. Since then, I’ve not heard anyone use the few “Spinasch” phrases I taught them, but I still can’t keep a straight face when I look at this one particular individual.

This week on Friday, my students begin writing my exams. I also have two next week, Tuesday and Thursday. Yes, I will be working on Thanksgiving…

The holidays are going to be interesting. Last year, we (my volunteer class) were all together for Thanksgiving at the (Acting) Country Director’s house. It was great. Christmas was a bit different; we were left to fend for ourselves and cook our own meal at the training center… but it was really hard. This year is going to be difficult. To me, Christmas is everything family (and a little white on the ground). I don’t have any of that here… I have no idea where I’ll be for Christmas, but shortly thereafter, a friend and I will be off to Mozambique!

Not sure when I’ll next get the chance to update, but I wish you all the happiest of holidays. Thanks for your love, prayers and support – I look forward to another year of crazy African stories!

As always, all my love from Africa!

Absolutely unbelievable: I have been in Lesotho over a year. Friday marked a year from the day we arrived, confused, jet-lagged but bright-eyed and ready to work. A year ago Saturday, we were visiting schools - one high school (where we would be practice teaching), one primary school, and one pre-school (where those resource teachers would be practice teaching). A year ago today, I don't remember exactly what we were doing, but I'm sure it was lots of sessions... Sesotho lessons, safety and security briefings, medical sessions (and shots to vaccinate us against just about everything here). Time continues to amaze me. Sometimes it can fly faster than I understand, and other times it seems as if I'll be in Lesotho forever. It's been interesting, this halfway thing... looking back, I find myself reflecting on all the best (and worst) times here, and how I was dealing with the cultural differences way back then. Looking forward, I see I still have a lot of work before I'll feel that I've accomplished much as a volunteer. I have a library to perfect, students to bring to said library, beautiful painted murals to re-touch, math, life-skills and maybe some english to teach... more friends to make, students to encourage, letters to write home, ultimately, there is so much more to do than I think will fit into the next year, but I guess I'll do my best.

The weather here continues to heat up. At the sun's peak, it is probably around 80 degrees, if not hotter. It cools off nicely in the evenings, but eventually we won't have that relief and it will just be hot. All the time. I got email from my parents about how they received a huge snow storm and lost power. I guess the house started getting pretty cold by the time the power kicked in again... all I could think was if they had given it a few more hours, it might be like sleeping here in the winter! No electricity, no heat, just a heck of a lot of blankets!

Let's see... what happened here within the last month?

I feel like I've developed a huge contentment with my site. I love my house, the other teachers who also stay on campus, the students who stay there and learn there (most of them, anyway!), the village... it just feels right. Yeah it's difficult washing everything you own by hand when you don't always have running water, but as I was outside on my porch the other Sunday morning, it didn't feel so strange to be stomping around in a big tub with my blankets, water and a lot of soap. I felt like I was crushing grapes for wine, and even though the students who had come for weekend studying looked at me like I was a total alien, it was really fun. (For the record, that's not how the other teachers wash their things... it's how the students who stayed at the school's housing did it... I learn from the best!)

There are still definitely things I don't do so well... for example, wait. The African "now" is usually at least an hour from now. And that's optimistic. There are times I'm able to wait patiently, without feeling like I'm waiting, but then there are times when I get very impatient and anxious. I guess I haven't been fully able to kick that part of the American in me... and that's just fine!

I finished teaching my first school year on Friday. Well, I guess the teaching part ended a week ago Friday. We spent last week reviewing for exams. I gave students all the topics that we'd covered this year and told them to start going through their books and notes to see if they had questions. It was fun to watch some of them go through the materials and try to remember everything, and some would even go so far as to explain it to several students sitting around them. Then there were other classes where I couldn't even convince them to crack open their books. They opted to dance around to music from their cell phones or play morabaraba (a popular game here sort of like chinese checkers and some other things combined)... I left their class very very frustrated that day (and then sat down to write their exam questions... oops). Remember how I said I love the teachers? They know when I'm frustrated by students and upset about poor exam/class performance, and they are always SO willing to listen to me vent and complain. Then they offer suggestions, either real or complete jokes, and we start laughing about something else and I feel better. These are the things my friends and family in America do. One of the things that has been difficult is not feeling like I really connect with people at my site, but now I'm realizing that I DO have those close bonds. It's really an incredible feeling; I love these women so much and am so thankful for their friendship and support.

I've also grown close to the students, not necessarily always my students either. The older students (many of whom are actually my "age-mates" or older than me) are a lot of fun. There were several staying in the housing the school has, and these boys especially mean a lot to me. When my dad sent me beautiful new soccer balls, they would come and knock on my door as soon as their exams were finished and then return the ball again as soon as the sun had set enough so they couldn't see. Eventually, they stopped bringing the ball back at night, and all I could do was smile. There was just an unspoken agreement that the ball, though technically mine, belonged to them... and boy, did they use it. When Itumeleng (Form E student who stayed at the school) returned the ball last Sunday because he and the rest of the boys were moving out, I had to fight back tears until he had left. I know I'll see them again, but it's hard knowing that they're not just up near the staff office. They're all back in their villages with their parents and siblings... and I miss having them there more than I realized I would. In the evenings, four or five of them would go down by their classroom and sing famo songs (the music that everyone here seems to love), Itumeleng as lead, and everyone else in this sort of tight harmony right beneath his voice. Whenever they sang, I'd go out on my porch, look at the stars and just relax. For some reason, it never occurred to me that it wouldn't be there for my whole service; I'm going to miss it.

Several weekends ago, I attended church again. It was the baptism of 'M'e Motselisi's son (she is the school secretary), who is about 6 months old now. It seemed like everyone else was leaving that weekend, her husband wasn't home, and so I told her I'd go, partly selfishly wanting to see a baptism in Lesotho. It ended up also being the weekend that the church was celebrating the harvest... meaning the service was around 4 hours long.

Compared to the baptisms I've attended in America, it was incredibly simple, though all the symbolism was there. They did indeed pour water on his head, make the cross and seal it with oil. (I joked with her prior to the service about how they would baptize anyone if there wasn't any water in the village but I'm not sure she really appreciated it.) There was one other person at the altar with 'M'e Motselisi, helping to hold the baby while she held the candle. No cameras, no videocameras, just a very attentive audience ready to sing to welcome the baby into the family of God. In that sense, it was really beautiful... the focus was on the right thing, not on getting everything on film. (I don't deny that capturing such moments are important, but I do think that sometimes the photographer or camera-person loses touch with the actual moment.)

At the end of the service, there was a sort of feast. Everyone had brought food items to celebrate their harvest: maize, bread, vegetables, nyekoe (sorghum and beans cooked together - delicious), and the chief had made joala, the famous sesotho beer. I'd never tried it, though I've been curious since they warned us in training that sometimes the shadier places will put battery acid in it (to wear away your stomach lining so you get drunk faster... also ultimately usually making your stomach bleed if you drink too much or if the brewers use too much). I got the guarantee that the chief had not added such ingredients and so when the cup was shoved in my face (by the pastor, who is also a teacher's husband, so I knew him), I took a sip. Now, I vaguely remember trying beer for the first time; I think I remember tasting wine for the first time (Confirmation), but I will NEVER FORGET tasting joala for the first time. I could not get the awful taste out of my mouth for a solid hour, even though I ate bread and drank juice. It was yeasty and... eesh, I don't even know how to describe the taste. The joala is a sort of cloudy, milky white color, and it is not smooth. It is chunky and gritty. I've tasted it, and will not taste more.

Several other important days also came and went - my birthday and Halloween. It was interesting being in a foreign country (alone) for my birthday. I've always been with family or friends, and I guess looking back, I was with both. I decided to try and look nice on my birthday; I even went as far as to wear my contacts instead of glasses (which was completely lost on my students, "Madam, you forgot your spectacles today!")

Basotho tradition has it that on somebody's birthday, you pour water on them, to help them grow. After I ran and showered (and looked decent), my teachers came at me with small buckets of water. Thankfully, many summers of water fights at the cabin have prepared me for such attacks and I was able to dodge one attempt and completely turn the other one around and soak the dump-er. After that, nobody tried anything. I'm not sure if Basotho culture says anything about how receptive you have to be to said water-dumping, but I didn't really want to have to change my clothes.

That day was especially fun because one of the other teachers had become a father, just that morning. I share a birthday with (what I'm told is) a very handsome baby boy named Neo (meaning gift). Basotho culture also has some interesting rituals for the birth of babies. The father is not there with the mother when she is giving birth. Then, apparently she contacts one of his friends first, not him. This friend then alerts other friends. If it is a girl, women are supposed to dump water on the new father. If it is a boy, men are supposed to beat him senseless with sticks. For obvious reasons, Ntate Ts'epo didn't want us all to know that his wife had given birth, but I'm friends with the teachers and they wanted to see what I would do, so they told me to go get him with a stick. I have NEVER used a stick to beat ANYONE before, but this seemed like fun. I wanted to wait outside his classroom and run after him (he is FAST) with the stick, but I had to teach, so I had to wait. When I finally did get to congratulate him, I had no stick so I just used my hands for the two seconds before he realized what was happening and ran away. That whole day, he beamed and seemed very happy that we shared a birthday.

Halloween was another story. I decided to throw a (huge) party. I have a pretty big house, and I got the go-ahead from my principal to let people sleep in the reading room and to cook in the school's kitchen. Friday night, there were 11 of us and we all fit just fine in my house. It was a sort of potluck so people brought various dishes (most were pasta or bread, so we carbo-overloaded for the soccer games the next day), and we all just relaxed with a bonfire. Saturday was a massive vat of scrambled (chicken-fresh) eggs, mexican food prep, soccer games with my students, water-balloon tosses on the soccer field, and some fun costumes. The mexican food turned out really well (all 120-some tortillas people made, a vat of beans, a vat of rice, and huge bowls of salsa, guac, cheese and some spicy peppers), and there was enough for firsts, seconds, midnight thirds and leftover breakfast of rice and beans. Soccer with my students was an awesomely fun rematch from the last time I'd hosted friends, which was the World Cup final weekend. We played Lesotho vs. America (though we had to borrow some of the students) and guess what! USA won! We played half-field with small goals because the pitch is SO fast (no grass), and it was so much fun to see my students and friends getting along so well. We were obviously the talk of the village because one white person is standard, two is an occasion, but 30 of us? Absolutely unheard of... and there were 30 (31 if you count me).

I was fairly occupied most of the evening with various hosting duties, but I'm told everyone had a great time. Eleven slept in my house, twenty slept in the reading room and they were all up and out by 9am Sunday, leaving me with the mess of a lifetime! I spent several solid hours cleaning: sweeping, mopping (yes, mopping), throwing away, airing out, washing... and finally I could sleep the afternoon away. (Except people kept coming to buy eggs or because they needed keys for something... so I really didn't get a chance to sleep). Halloween was a great time, much thanks to all who sent me decorations and candy (as much as it tastes like wax, candy-corn is definitely a tradition and it was a treat)!

The next weekend, I needed to go to town to get some groceries, check prices on water tanks, and check my mail. I opted to go on Saturday morning with Palesa (she runs the school's shop) and another teacher, 'M'e Ntsetsana (a good friend). We walked the 45 minutes to the junction and joked and laughed the whole way. Both women had to have their hair done, so I went along to each of the salons and while Ntsetsana and I were waiting for her appointment, she came with me to the hardware store to get prices for the water tanks (I want to help the school get water tanks to collect rain water so when there's only a little metsi in the village, at least there will be something to do wash and take a bath) and pvc pipe so I can make a Ladder Golf (BOLA!) set for my school. She was a tremendous help with the translating. Even though most of the people who work at the hardware store know SOME English, Sesotho is definitely their language of choice. Duh.

I did my shopping and mail-checking, and then went back to where Palesa was having her hair braided. When I arrived, they were maybe 50% done with the braids, though at the time I thought it was closer to 80%. So I sat around and waited. It was actually a lot of fun just being in a room full of women who were into beauty - hair, nails, clothes... definitely a different crowd, but they were intrigued by me, my hair (so silky and slippery!) and my time in Lesotho. Hours later, she was finished and beautiful, and we headed back home.

It was such a nice way to go to town. I relaxed, took my time doing things, talked to people when they seemed to want to talk, and really enjoyed my day. It was so nice having someone to walk around with and ultimately ride home on the taxi with. Again, I have some great friends here.

Not sure if I wrote about my garden recently or not, but I HAVE AN AWESOME GARDEN! Several weeks ago, after a nice rainstorm, I buckled down and planted. I now have little baby green things poking their heads out! I’m soon going to have spinach, carrots, basil, onions, spicy peppers, lettuce, tomatoes and cucumbers! As soon as I can get another wave of ambition, I have seeds for broccoli, cauliflower, peas and green beans. Can't wait for them to be ready to harvest; I'm going to have some wicked garden salads, pesto and gazpacho!

I think it's time to go for a run now, even though I have many more stories to tell... they'll have to wait for tomorrow... or the next day... I miss and love America but am still doing well here.

All my love from Africa,

-Katie

Greetings and Happy October!

So, as is par for my course, it’s been about a month since my last update. Apologies.

First: the volunteers in Mafeteng have a new mailbox in town. My address is at left, but its box 482. Now, the updates…

After Tom was shot, we all gathered in Maseru to be with other volunteers and there was a very nice memorial for him. A few days after, I returned to site, and I will say it was difficult. It was not only hard to be away from my (huge) support network, but it was scary because everyone was so worn down emotionally. The only thing to do is to take the time necessary to heal, but sometimes time can take too long.

The next weekend, I was back in Maseru to go to Ladybrand for my friends birthday. There is a restaurant there called Living Life and it is one of the most amazing places I’ve been during my stay here. Their prices are pretty reasonable and their food is beyond good, but the atmosphere there is truly one of a kind. You walk from town out down a road, past a little train station and down a little path to arrive at the front door. You then walk through the front of their kitchen and can see all of the beautiful fresh food and bakery products waiting for customer consumption. In the next room, you can look at the menus of the day (breakfast and lunch) on a giant chalkboard, and just beyond, is the porch and the outdoor seating. In the back yard, they have a massive swing – you have to climb up a big platform and take the rope, then jump off and you feel like you’re flying. There is also a trampoline and swing-set, plus lawn games like bocce ball. The food was fantastic and the whole day was wonderfully relaxing; we all ate ourselves full and headed back to Lesotho happy.

The rest of this blog post is just going to be random stories from between then and now, but definitely the highlights of the past month or so.

My school took a trip to Muela Hydroelectric Power Station and Liphofung in the north of Lesotho. This was like no field trip I’ve ever been on… The plan was for the bus to leave around 2:30am from Sekameng, to get there by a reasonable time in the morning so we could have the tour of Muela and then go to the cave paintings and cultural center at Liphofung before lunch, get lunch in town (or students were to eat the lunch they brought) and then get home by a reasonable time (actually, one teacher quoted 7pm to me). Now, if there is one thing I’ve learned during my almost 11 months here (WHOA!), it’s that time doesn’t run at the same speed as it does in America. I tried to sleep the night before we went, but of course it was difficult. Anytime you know you need to sleep, its always hard to calm down enough to sleep, in this case especially because students had arrived at school around dark and were just waiting around, singing and laughing, until 2:30 when we were supposed to leave.

I had a strong feeling the bus wouldn’t leave on time, so I set my alarm for 2:15 to allow for maximum sleep time before a crazy busy day. I finally rolled out of bed around 2:45am after an embarrassing number of times hitting the snooze button, got dressed, gathered a few things, and passed out on my couch in the main room of my house. I figured that ‘M’e Puleng, the one organizing the whole thing and one of my good friends, would not let the bus leave without me. Thankfully, my assumption was correct, and sure enough, about 3:45am, I heard her very loud, very excited “’M’E KATIE! PLEASE, LET’S GO TO MUELA!” Groggy would be one of the biggest understatements of my life, but I made it outside, wrapped (in true Basotho style) in a blanket (that I was later told only herd-boys used… my reply was that I am, in fact, a Shepard, so it didn’t bother me). By the time all the students boarded the buses and everything was in place, it was 4:30am. I put my earplugs in, wrapped up in my blanket, and tried to sleep… which was clearly not the intention of anyone else on the bus. The music was blaring, the bass bumping, and everyone on the bus was dancing. It was too loud to relax and too entertaining to actually close my eyes, so I sort of half-watched, half-rested most of the way. At one point, a teacher changed the music to watch the movie The Transporter (which was actually really enjoyable), but then the other bus got a flat tire and students wanted music again.

We finally reached Muela around 9:30, paid for students’ entry, and made it inside the “museum” around 10:30. It was a really interesting room, lots of models of the piping that brings water all over the country, and plenty of posterboards with lots of information about the past, present and future of the water project in Lesotho. The woman giving the tour spoke in English primarily, which was a blessing for me, even if the students didn’t understand much. It was really great to hear the students asking questions, especially since most of the questions were in English. To me, this shows that they have enough comprehension to understand not only what she was telling us, but to think critically about it, and then ask about that information, in English as well. Hooray.

After the museum, they took us down into the tunnel where the actual turbines and generators are. The teachers got a sneak peek at said turbines and generators – they are huge, but I guess they sort of have to be in order to supply the country with so much electricity and even export some to South Africa.

Next stop: Liphofung. At this point, it was about 1pm… we were all pretty hungry. We disembarked and again, had to wait a while to sort out all the entry fees. The main attraction at Liphofung is the cave paintings, which have apparently been there 5000 years. (I heard 6000, but my students say it was only 5000, and the tour guide was speaking in Sesotho only, so I might have misheard.) They were pretty cool to see, but as I said, I didn’t catch much of the information he was giving us, so for me it was mostly visual. Then we headed back up to the ground level and in several traditional huts, there was a lot of information about the various chiefs who lived in and around the area, as well as traditional clothes and instruments and clay pots… I’ll admit, by this time, I wasn’t retaining much; I was beyond hungry and getting a little tired too (anyone who knows me knows full well how much sleep I need to function). We took a few pictures of the group and headed to Butha-Buthe to get our “lunch” … it was around 4pm. Teachers pooled money and got KFC; students ran around and got junk food and whatever they wanted for dinner; I scrounged for vegetarian food; we all went home.

I was a bit more awake on the ride home and even managed to rock out with the teachers a bit in the front of the bus. Some of their dance moves were pretty funny, but nobody really cared how bad anyone else’s dance moves were, so it didn’t matter.

We reached home around 9pm, later than I’d been told but still earlier than I’d expected. I went home, ate a bit and crashed until my alarm went off (way too early) the next morning. All in all, it was a great trip, and I really enjoyed seeing my students out of the Sekameng High School context. I think they liked dancing on the bus more than either of the two places, but I do think they learned a little, which is, after all, the purpose of an “educational” fieldtrip.

That Friday, as I was teaching in the morning, a girl pulled her arm out of her sweater sleeve and was looking at something near her shoulder. I figured she’d given herself a tattoo, or a friend had written something on her arm, so I walked over and jokingly asked her what was going on with her arm. She removed her hand, and I saw what she had been covering: two huge bruises that were dark blue, purple and brown beyond belief. My stomach turned and my heart sank. Visibly upset, I asked what on earth had happened… “A teacher was squeezing me.” (I’ve omitted the name for obvious reasons; the internet is a big place.) Oh. My. Gosh. As it turns out, this particular teacher had also “squeezed” other students, and they too pulled their arms out of their sweaters to show me their bruises. I almost cried. The rest of the lesson was difficult to get through, and afterwards, I went straight to the principal. Now, I don’t want to seen insensitive, but I feel as though I’ve gotten rather used to the teachers beating students on the hand with a stick. I’ve even invited teachers hit me so I can see how exactly these students are being punished for things like showing up a minute late, not knowing the answer, or taking too long in the toilet. It hurts. A lot. Especially the heavy tubing they’ve started using (the tube normally connects the gas tank to our stoves). I had no idea teachers were using other forms of punishment, especially squeezing so hard to leave marks like that. That said, it is illegal to corporally punish students, unless you are the principal. This is part of the reason I went to my principal; the other part is that he is incredibly reasonable and very comforting when it comes to stuff like this. Plus, I’ve never seen him beat a student, and he too claims not to use CP.

I had every intention to hold myself together, but basically immediately broke down sobbing when I had to tell him what I’d seen. He promised to do something about it. I wasn’t sure what exactly this meant, whether he would talk to the teacher individually or address it at the next staff meeting, or maybe completely forget about it, but I was pretty relieved and calmed down enough to teach before my next class. I didn’t bother him about it again, and he didn’t bring it up, so I just assumed he’d dealt with it.

This particular story to be continued…

Last week on Wednesday, I’d finished my classes and discovered that my principal was planning on going to town for some shopping. I knew I had a package waiting for me at the post office, so I asked if I could join. After all, it’s a free (fast) ride to (and from) town. Unfortunately, I was unable to get the package that day because by the time I got the package slip, the actual office itself was closed. We then did errands for the school, which ended up being a lot of fun. He let me go to the copy store to have them make copies for the mock exams some of the students were taking, and then we did the food and other shopping. At this massive warehouse, we got something around 50 or 60kg of beans, maize meal, soup mix and fixins, and other stuff for lunches. Then we came to the list for the school’s shop. Apparently, they were running low on feminine products, so we had to buy pads for the school. When he said “Ok, next we need the pads,” I couldn’t contain my laughter. He seemed a bit confused, so I explained that I just had never pictured myself helping him shop for pads. We both had a good laugh. It was a great afternoon; I have so much respect for my principal and all the work he does for the school.

Recently, I decided to shave my legs (a big accomplishment with no running water) and wear a skirt to work. All my teachers complimented me, “You look so beautiful” … “You should wear a dress all the time,” etc. My favorite line though, was “’M’e Katie, I like you so much better in a dress.”

This past week, we only had three days of school, and, as it was the end of the month, students were writing my September exams. Unfortunately, the generator was broken and so there was no way to copy the exams. I had to write the questions on the chalkboard and pray students wouldn’t copy. My arms got pretty tired, and I felt bad because most students needed longer than the 20 minutes that were remaining (after I had finished writing on the board) to complete their exam. In any case, my A1’s had finished both math and physics exams and I still had a class with them on Wednesday morning. I wasn’t sure what we were going to do; I didn’t really want to start a new topic with them because we have next week completely off school, so I figured they’d not really be able to focus and then forget everything. I opted for a “fun” day… we talked about codes. At first, they didn’t really get it, but I showed them how to encode a message with a simple cipher, and they loved it. I wrote the cipher on the board and then gave them some messages to decode, but they liked it so much, they all wrote me their own message. Some were simple like “Hello, my name is Tsoarelo,” “Good morning, madam,” “Have a nice day,” but others were pretty funny, like “Kamohelo is dangerous.” My favorite by far came from one of the top students in Form A, one of the students I was able to get scholarship money for, who wrote “I love you.” It was truly one of the sweetest things and really made my day, especially because he’s not a very verbal kid, very respectful, but sort of awkward in front of large groups. He’s clearly very bright and works very hard, and I always joke with him when he freaks out about getting a practice problem wrong, so that message just seemed so out of the blue, but it made me smile.

The next day, Thursday, was the school’s farewell party. This was to celebrate the external classes (Forms C and E), who will start writing their big exams next week after the independence break. This means the teachers were up most of the night on Wednesday, cooking and preparing everything for the big ceremony and feast afterwards. During this Farewell Ceremony, students recited poems, sang songs, and danced. There were also visitors who had previously graduated from Sekameng and were pursuing various degrees at the National University or another school called Limkokwing. The chief and head of the school board were also there, and many people gave speeches. Students who had performed particularly well on their mock exams were awarded prizes, and several teachers who had found other jobs this year came back to give speeches about how truly special Sekameng is. I hope it lights a fire under some of the students’ rear ends, because they’re all bright enough to go on to University, they just might not know it, or know how to work for it. In any case, at the end of the ceremony, the principal got up to wrap up and urge the students to continue their hard work. He also made another announcement, one about corporal punishment. He acknowledged that many teachers use it very freely (too freely in some cases), and, in front of the whole school, teachers, guests and students, said very sternly that it is illegal for teachers to use corporal punishment. He asked students not to take advantage of that, and urged all of us to work together to find alternatives. I was absolutely floored – this was an outcome better than I could have imagined. The whole school! I guess the true test will come after break; we’ll have to see how many teachers actually take it to heart, but I was so happy and so proud of him for taking such a brave step. Cross your fingers that it actually starts a behavior change for these teachers; some of them are so rooted in their ways that they seem too lazy or unwilling to change. Others just lack creativity to come up with any other form of punishment, so I need to come up with good alternatives they can try.

The farewell ceremony itself was really nice, a good way to honor the students’ hard work, to encourage them to continue this hard work, and to show them how far it can take them. After the lunch, the students tried to get the speaker system working (by Thursday, the generator was fixed, go figure), and the teachers all hung around and partied together. We cooked meat to accompany the lunch leftovers for dinner, and had a really fun time dancing outside by the fire they were using to cook. I brought my computer and the school’s small speakers out and we partied until close to midnight, at which point everyone was too tired to continue (especially after little sleep on Wednesday night). Ultimately, it made me realize how special Sekameng is. Most teachers are wonderful, the students mostly work hard, and I feel as though I belong.

I can’t really think of too much else to write. I’m now onto my fifth page in a word document… I think 3000 words is a pretty good update for now. I hope everything is good back at home (or wherever you are), and that the colors of fall are as beautiful as I remember. Sending all my love from Africa,

-Katie

What a week it has been.

On Saturday morning, I received one of the most upsetting phone calls I can remember.

http://edition.cnn.com/2010/WORLD/africa/09/05/lesotho.peace.corps.death/index.html

I am sad, angry, hurt, confused... so many things. It is a terrible tragedy and an unfathomable loss for our group, for Lesotho, and for America.

I consider myself very privileged to have known Tom Maresco, and to have served with him in Lesotho for these past nine months. My thoughts, prayers and deepest sympathies are with his friends and family worldwide. May he rest in peace.

September 3, 2010

First of all, Happy, happy (1-day early) birthday to my brother! I can't believe you're 18... I put your card in the mail today (take THAT, stamp crisis!) so hopefully you'll see it before you turn 19. I'd send you a cake too, but heaven only knows how nasty that would be by the time it arrived.

This week was warm. Some (GCXC, I'm lookin' at you) might even say unseasonably warm. I wore a skirt and sandals yesterday (much to the delight of my students and other teachers, especially since I took the time to wash my hair!) and was very comfortable. The sun is gaining heat and the days are getting longer. I would venture a guess that we are now well into the windy season. It wouldn't be so terrible if it weren't for the fact that we haven' seen regular rain since probably last April? (We did have rain ONE morning last week, but none since then) So there's a lot of dust. Everywhere. If you walk around with your mouth open, you get a mouth full of grit. Not very pleasant.

Yesterday and Wednesday, we had lifeskills. We talked about emotions, and how to deal with them best. The younger group seemed pretty quiet and bored, but yesterday, I was thrilled to get some controversy. One student kept asking specific questions about how to deal with her anger or frustration. It's been a learning experience for me too, since some of the things I've advised them to try (like finding time and space to be completely alone with your thoughts) are culturally unacceptable. They've asked a lot about whether it's ok or more harmful to be completely alone. As someone who needs her alone time every once in a while, I've tried to explain that you just need to know yourself and what you need, but they seem to want a cut and dry answer. It absolutely thrills me that these students get it and get it enough that they can ask the tough questions. It also thrills me that other teachers are interested enough to come and see what it's all about. Yesterday, we had three teachers (plus Rethabile, the librarian) present, and everyone helped answer the questions.

This weekend I'm happy to say I'm staying at site. I might walk to the junction to get some groceries (I discovered they have chocolate bars there! That means chocolate DOES exist closer than town!), but will be here the rest of the time. After school today, some students have asked if we can show a movie with the projector. Tomorrow night, I think we'll show another soccer game (South Africa vs. Niger), and Sunday there is a choir concert at a nearby village. I'll walk over with some of the other teachers and choir director to cheer for our students. Choir concerts here are interesting affairs - I'll try to write more about them later.

For now, I think that's it. I have to go teach a class about magnetism pretty soon here - the kids should like it since they get to play with magnets most of the class. Even I had forgotten how cool magnets are... and how much kids can show you about things you take for granted. It's refreshing.

Hope the weekend is good for everyone (last one before school starts for my siblings at least! - and a long weekend too, with Labor Day? ... I'll be working on Labor Day, so enjoy it for me!)

Love from Africa,

-Katie

ps - No news about the mouse. No recent droppings anywhere, and no squeaking at night, but I have been going to bed early this week...

pps - After almost 3 weeks off running (for many reasons), I ran again yesterday. Let me tell you, I AM SORE! ...but it feels so good.

August 31, 2010

After I’d taught my first two classes yesterday, I was feeling too dizzy and light-headed to continue. I went home to rest, and ended up feeling weak and generally exhausted today as well. I’m planning on teaching again tomorrow; I don’t want to lose any more time with my students.

Fortunately, I had good books to read and the generator was on both days. I managed to finish Pride and Prejudice yesterday (I’m still surprised I made it this far in life without reading it), and have now read a total of 16 books since I arrived at my site in January. I started another today, and will probably finish quickly as it seems to be a fast read. I also watched The Illusionist again (my second viewing) and enjoyed it very much.

I’m writing this now with 20% battery remaining, and 99% certainty that there is another mouse in my house. To make it worse (or better, I’m not sure which), it seems to be confined to my bedroom. Most of the time, my bedroom door closed. When the sun shines in (from the North here, not the South, an interesting change), it heats my room. If I keep the door closed, the room stays warmer when I go to sleep. Granted, it hasn’t been as brutally cold recently, but I’ve fallen into the habit, so the mouse is in my room.

I’m not exactly sure how I’m going to deal with this one, seeing as last time was such an ordeal. If I poison it, who knows where it will end up. If I try to trap it, I still have to deal with removing a dead (I hope) mouse from a trap. If I leave it alone, well, that’s not an option. I suppose I could borrow someone’s cat, though then the allergies become an issue.

Well, I just got the “Connect to Power” warning, so I’d better call it a night.

Love (and critters) from Africa,

-Katie

August 30, 2010

It’s hard to believe it’s already the end of August. I know I write this with almost every post, but the time is flying – in some ways at least… in others, it couldn’t be going any slower!

Last week I gave my students their end of August exams. Since they’ve been re-divided based on performance on the June final exams, it’s interesting to see the difference in some individuals. There are some students who have moved up a tier and are absolutely (I don’t even remember the right word for it!) … in any case, they’re doing remarkably well. They try hard with all the homework and classwork I give them, and pester me until they’ve not only completed the work, but understood it as well. This is one of the things I absolutely love about being a teacher: seeing my students, who may have otherwise been unmotivated, work hard and achieve great things. It makes handing their exams back one of the best parts of my week. On the flip-side, naturally, there are those students who have been demoted, and appear very dejected by that fact. I don’t like to, but it is something that can be turned against them for motivation; “Don’t you want to be in the first class next year?”

The weather here is starting to feel like spring (or summer at some times). Remember those peach trees from February? Well, with the warmer weather, they all have beautiful pink blossoms that smell lovely. The ground in most places is still pretty brown and ugly, but the pink makes it ok. On a rather ironic note, my peach tree (aka the one on my plot in front of my house) is the only one without all the pretty pink blossoms. I think it’s dead.

Many teachers have started planting their gardens and I intend to begin mine very soon as well – I can’t wait for fresh vegetables to make a real garden salad, and real basil pesto! That is definitely one thing to be said for living here. I have learned to cook and bake things that I would have otherwise never even dreamed of making. For example, chocolate cake (from scratch, of course, Betty Crocker hasn’t quite reached Africa yet) is one of the easiest things in the world… and the recipe I use is good. A friend and I recently made calzones; again, everything was from scratch, even the dough. It’s an interesting way to really learn to cook, that’s for sure, because fast food doesn’t really exist here.

School continues to be school. Some students are absolutely the light of my day, and some the bane of my existence. One student in particular is almost more like a friend; she just happens to sit in on my classes and take the exams I write. I’m beyond proud to say she is one of the students for whom I managed to secure school fees this semester, and she had been absent for the first week of August. I got to chat a bit with her on Friday, and I asked if she was doing alright, if everything was alright at home, etc. This is always a difficult subject for me to bring up, since I’m not ever entirely sure about what’s happened. I get the impression the Basotho teachers know these things from local gossip, but they never tell me. I was aware that this student’s father had passed away within the last year, and that her family was struggling to make ends meet. She had mentioned (in a note I asked the students to write after they’d finished their exams back in February, I think) that she might have to go and search for a job somewhere, in order to help out her mother, but that she really wants to be a doctor, and she knows how important school is in order to be successful in life. Naturally, this tugged at the old heart-strings, and when I found out about the tuition assistance program, she was my number one candidate.

When we talked on Friday, she alluded to something that had happened and her mother being gone. I asked if her mother had passed away, and she responded something along the lines of, “No, she has just gone to search for a job, but now I have to look after my younger brothers and sisters.” Oh. My. Gosh. Not only does she have to attend school five days a week, she now also has to look after her siblings (which, as any mother knows, is a full-time job). To top it all off, her walk to and from school every day is probably at least an hour, each way.

Talking to her almost brought tears to my eyes. How could I, someone who has had almost every material comfort available to me as I was growing up, console this young woman, who has more on her plate than I will probably ever even know? I tried, feebly, but she sort of shrugged it off with the rationale that this is just how her life is. I want so much to tell her that things will be alright, but will they? Who knows when (if?) her mother will come back, and even then, what will happen. Wow.

In other news, the student who broke his leg right before school reopened in August is back. I think he only missed two weeks and maybe a day or two of school, and he did pretty well on his recent exams. He is a nice presence in class: a hard worker with a great sense of humor. He is also one of the very few boys in my class who does not try to run to the toilets every chance he gets, and for that, he earns big points in my book.

The highlight of every week for me is becoming my Life Skills Club. We had to split into two different days: the younger classes are on Tuesdays and the older classes on Thursdays. I don’t teach any of the older students, so these meetings are particularly interesting. Last week we couldn’t meet on Tuesday because all Form B students were writing an exam, so when the older students met on Thursday, we did only a small activity and I answered questions for a little while. The activity related to self-esteem, which was sort of a new concept for many of them. Each student had a piece of paper taped to his or her back, and a pen or pencil in hand. Then everyone was encouraged to move around and write (nice) things about each person on his or her back. Some of the things they wrote were really nice, like “Always happy” or “we love you” but some were just funny (to me at least), for example, “U have big hips” or “U R FAT.” Of course, it is a culture where wide hips (suitable for birthing many babies) may be admired, and excessive girth is a sign of wealth (it means there is plenty of food for even the children to eat), but those notes made me laugh. I was thrilled that the students seemed so pleased with the activity, but even happier that teachers were participating too!

To top it all off, the questions they’d written to put into the question jar were excellent. there were a few about me, how I liked Lesotho, what my challenges have been since I arrived here, etc. There were a few about Life Skills, how it can help students, etc. And then, there were the money questions. For example, “Is it bad to have more than 5 boyfriends?” and “How can I find a boyfriend who will love me and be good to me forever?” and “How can we avoid getting AIDS?” I was (and still am) SO pumped. First, this means that they are brave enough to ask these questions. Second, it means there is substantial potential for this club to help these kids and make a difference for them! I’m not sure what topic we’ll move to next, but I have a feeling we’ll be spending quite a few weeks with the tough topics like HIV/AIDS.

I hope to update more frequently as we’re approaching the “Mock Exam” period. This means the external classes (Forms C and E) will be writing big, comprehensive exams to help prepare them for the real exams they’ll write in October and November.

Hope all is well at home as students are getting ready to go back to school… those were the days!

Love from Africa,

-Katie

August 7, 2010

I made it through the first week of school! Not that I had any serious doubts about it… Teaching is a funny thing. Sometimes it can be the best thing in the world, especially when you can see a concept really click in a student’s mind and they have that “Aha!” moment. Other times, it can be the bane of my existence. Trying to get a room full of students to be quiet so I can tell them about current electricity is frustrating, to say the least.

On Thursday afternoon, the class teachers re-shuffled the students. This means that my A1 and A2 students from last semester were all jumbled together and split up again, based on how they did on their exams in June. This is fine, in theory, and I’m sure it has worked well in the past, but why on earth would a school do this in the middle of the week? This means that maybe 3/4 of my form A students have learned something about electricity in physics. Of those, probably half have seen my lesson twice. That means there are still a handful of students who haven’t seen it, and even though I tell them to get notes from a friend, probably won’t. It also means that A2 is probably no longer my favorite class, since it now has the lower-achieving students as well as a (healthy) handful of the troublemakers.

Almost nine months in… I’ll admit, I’ve been a bit homesick. Even though school has started and goodness only knows that’s plenty to keep me busy, I still find time to miss my family and my home. I find it’s the little things that set me off… reading letters from home about Grinnell summers or going to my cabin, hearing about sports practices for my siblings and knowing that I’ll be missing their games and tournaments for the next year and a half… I still believe I’m in the right spot, but it’s hard having life at home continue on without me.

Last night, I suggested that the few teachers remaining on the campus for the weekend all cook dinner together. When I say, “We cooked dinner together,” I really mean: one teacher cooked papa and meat, and I cooked vegetable soup-stew. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to cook, especially because usually when we have gatherings like this, I somehow weasel my way out of cooking. It was a surprising lot of fun. It’s much nicer eating with people than sitting home alone, night after night, eating by myself. The teacher who hosted us all has a nice solar panel set up for the television and satellite dish that don’t work. When one teacher mentioned how she wished we could watch television, I grabbed my computer, brought it over and we watched Love Actually. In retrospect, I don’t know if I would choose to show that movie again. There are some parts with nudity and some other scenes that made me a bit uncomfortable in a culture where anything between the knees and thighs is considered off-limits unless you’re married. I do think they appreciated the message though; “Love is actually all around.” This is honestly one of my favorite movies, but seeing America at Christmas time made me miss snow and family and my tree and Christmas cookies… sigh.

So now it’s the weekend. It seems strange to be here the whole weekend; usually I get off campus, even if it’s just to go to town and do some grocery shopping. I will say, it’s pretty peaceful. I did some laundry yesterday afternoon and have been reading and writing a fair amount. I need to plan lessons for next week, as well as what we’ll do on the first day of my Life Skills Club. Over 80 students have signed up. For a school of not even 300, I’d say that’s a good amount of interest! Over a quarter of the school’s students and closer to a third! I’m pretty proud. We’ll most likely have to split the students up somehow, maybe by grade. There’s just no way we can do almost 90 people in a room here. I’m a bit disappointed that none of the Form A students have signed up, but they see me enough during the week, and maybe they’ll change their minds eventually. I’m pretty pleased that I’ll have help from the other teachers. My counterpart has been huge in getting the ball rolling. My principal is also really enthusiastic about being a part, and so are some of the other young(er) teachers who work here. I think this will help in a couple of ways. First, it should show students that Life Skills is not just something that white people preach; even Basotho teachers care and believe it is important. Second, I hope it will be more sustainable this way. If I work with teachers this year and next year, then hopefully they can carry on without me when I’m gone… Hear that? It’s that great buzz word: sustainability. Here’s hoping!

My plan (as of right now) is to do some self-esteem and identity stuff, then once they’re a bit more comfortable with each other (and me), move into the heavier topics.

I lucked out: there was a soccer game that everyone on campus wanted to watch today, so they turned the generator on. I was able to sort through some photos and music between the cheers and gasps of students. It ended up being quite a match, Chiefs vs. someone else. The Chiefs only scored in the final minute of stoppage time, and it was a beautiful goal. (Did I mention how much I miss the World Cup? I got a text message from a friend the night before school started, “Can we just put on clown shoes and go back to Rustenberg?”)

I just spoke with my librarian, Rethabile, who went to town yesterday. He said he stopped into the hospital to see how Teboho is… and yes, he is STILL in the hospital. The latest news is: they took the x-ray, sent it to Maseru to try to figure out what exactly to do with his leg. They will hopefully re-cast it maybe sometime this weekend, but probably (more realistically) next week sometime. Who knows when he will be back to school. Soon, I hope… he’s a pretty good student, very hard-working and a lot of fun to have in class. Then the problem becomes where he will stay while his leg is in a cast. If he stays at home, he has a walk that should take someone with two non-broken legs at least an hour. If he stays at school, there isn’t really anyone to take care of him and help him bathe or do anything that’s difficult for someone with a broken leg. I have no idea what will happen; I just hope his leg heals well and he doesn’t miss too much school – it would be pretty awful to have to repeat a grade just because you broke your leg (in my opinion).

I’m sure I could write another thousand words about my life here, but I think it’s time to eat lunch, work on my Life Skills lessons, and go for a run.

Love from Lesotho!

-Katie

August 4, 2010

It’s only been a few days since I last wrote but SO much has happened. In fact, as my students would say, “Too much has happened, madam.” Let’s see, I last updated on Friday… I made it home from Mafeteng without any problems, went to bed early, and slept until almost noon. I guess that’s what a week of workshops will do (not so much the training as being around friends with electricity and plenty of fun things to do). Saturday was pretty uneventful. I contemplated going outside and watching the soccer tournament but didn’t really feel up to being a public spectacle, so I made myself start looking over textbooks and syllabi a bit in the afternoon since classes began on Monday. Sunday morning, I also slept in. I was writing a letter home, waiting for my stomach to settle so I could run and just hanging around my house, trying to neaten things up. Around noon, I saw the school’s librarian, dressed in soccer gear, come running past my house, over to another teacher’s home. I went outside to find several teachers talking with him about another student who, while playing soccer, had broken his leg. At first I was skeptical that the leg was broken (not that I’m any medical expert), but when Rethabile (the librarian, pronounced “Ray-tah-BEE-lay”) told me exactly what happened and the position of the leg – the way he described it, from the middle of the shin down was sticking out at maybe a 30 degree angle from where it should have been – I believed him, that it was broken. My first instinct was to take him to the clinic. They had already sent someone to the clinic; it’s closed on Sundays. I couldn’t think of any doctors or nurses around the village, so the next option was to get him to the hospital in town.

(Rethabile had already secured enough money for him and this student to get to town and come back, but not much more than that… When I asked if I should go with them, one of the other villagers who had been playing said he thought I should, but there wasn’t enough money for me to go too. I told him not to worry about it; I had enough money to get me to town and back)

Before I continue with the story, let’s do a quick mental exercise. I want you to think about what would happen if your son (or daughter) was playing soccer outside with the neighborhood gang, and someone came running to tell you he had broken his leg. How quickly could you get him to the hospital? How would you get there? Would you have the money to do so? How long would you wait to be seen by a doctor without becoming impatient? Would you expect an immediate x-ray? Got all that? It’s a lot to think about… ok, keep reading.

You may recall that my village is a solid 45 minute walk from the nearest tarred road. If you didn’t know, well, it is. Even in a car, this is a rough ride; it takes probably 15-20 minutes on average in most vehicles. I don’t have a car here. My principal wasn’t around, and we didn’t know anyone else who could bring us to town in a vehicle, so the guys hoisted Teboho (“Tay-BOO-hoh” … poor broken student) onto a donkey (they had put the bone back in place as best they could, and wrapped it). Anyone in my family can tell you I don’t like blood or gore and I’m probably not the best person to deal with pain… this kid was in serious pain. He was literally trembling. I was scared for him, and it hurt to see him hurting so much.

As soon as he was loaded up, the procession was off. I ran ahead to try to get a taxi from the road to come down our rocky road a ways to pick him up so he wouldn’t have to ride as far on a the donkey. We lucked out and I flagged one down, but it was going to Maseru, not Mafeteng… still, the guys lifted him into the front seat, and that taxi met the Mafeteng taxi at the tarred road. The driver and conductor transferred him as smoothly as they could into the second taxi, and we took off for town. Again, I’m no medical professional, but the first things I would have done (had I been at home) are elevate the leg and put ice on it. Funny thing about Lesotho is even in the winter, there’s no ice. Teboho rode the whole way to town with his leg hanging down, same as anyone would sit in the front seat. Every time we went over a bump or started or stopped abruptly, he would wince with pain. We finally arrived in town and after letting all the other passengers off, the driver was kind enough to take the three of us directly to the hospital. To keep time in perspective here: we left the soccer pitch maybe around 12:30. We boarded the taxi to Mafeteng around 1pm and arrived at the hospital shortly after 2.

Rethabile (champion at life) dashed out of the taxi, found a rolling cart, hoisted Teboho onto it, and started wheeling it into the emergency ward. I think I was partially still stunned at the whole situation, but I helped out when I thought of something possibly helpful, otherwise just stood around and got in the way. We found a nurse and explained the situation. She took her sweet time getting Teboho’s name and home village and eventually decided that we were indeed worth her time and called a doctor. As we’re waiting for the doctor to come check his leg out, we’re just sitting in the examination room, she is washing instruments in the sink and Teboho is holding his leg, trying to find a way to be comfortable. Finally, the doctor arrived. I couldn’t tell if it was all a show, but he and the nurse insisted on speaking to each other in English. He didn’t really speak to Teboho much, didn’t tell him what was going on, didn’t ask for his side of the story, he just poked and prodded and after not even 10 minutes, declared that yes, it was broken. Yikes. Now we’re at probably 2:45pm. The doctor and nurse began their awkward English conversation again, about how they were going to cast up his leg. This seemed to be the most painful for poor Teboho. They had to slide the wet cast stuff under his leg and then wrap it from ankle to knee. He. Was. In. Serious. Pain.

After that ordeal, the nurse told us he would be admitted to stay the night and in the morning, they would take an x-ray. This was a shock… stay the night? Why couldn’t they take care of it right then and there? Well, the x-ray machine, like many things in Lesotho, is not open for business on Sunday. So we plopped Teboho onto the wheely cart again, and rolled him into the area of the hospital where males stayed. These rooms had six beds with as many boys/men in them, and they smelled funky. Not good funky, awful, terrible, disgusting funky. We’d been waiting a while for the nurse to make up a bed for Teboho when I realized Rethabile had left. Teboho was not speaking to me much, just occasionally glancing over, as if to make sure I was actually still there… so I didn’t ask him where Rethabile had gone. Finally, he came back, and in his hands was a plastic bag containing a loaf of bread, small carton of milk and two apples. I was absolutely amazed. He had gone to a nearby shop to buy food for Teboho because hospital food is apparently notoriously awful everywhere in the world. Soon thereafter, Teboho’s bed was ready, so we wheeled him in and helped him into bed. As soon as he was in bed, the nurse was gone, nowhere to be found. He apparently told Rethabile that he wanted to use the bathroom, so I set off to find a wheelchair so we could wheel him in. That too was an ordeal… I looked all over before I found one. After business was taken care of, I went to talk to the nurse (after I found her) about what the next step was. She looked confused, but told me that someone should come back the next day and bring crutches (or be prepared to buy them), since he’ll need them to walk. She didn’t take our number; she didn’t give us the hospital number… just said that someone should come back the next day.

That was Sunday. Today is Wednesday. I made sure someone told Teboho’s parents about the break and where he was, and I know someone went to go see him on Monday, though I heard today that he is still there. When I went to the clinic to visit my Kenyan friends yesterday, I asked the nurse about what should be done with a break like that. She said, in her opinion, the leg would have to be opened up to make sure the bones set correctly. I’m not sure if/when he’ll be back at school, but I’m hoping he’ll recover soon.

There are a few upsides of this story. First, Rethabile is a champ. I’m still so thrilled he is our school’s librarian. Second, after leaving the hospital, we went to visit some teachers who live in town. It was nice to see them and chat for a while about vacation and World Cup. Third, as we were walking to catch a taxi, a man approached us and asked if I was a PCV. I said yes, and we got to talking… he had just been in a meeting of some sort and the conclusion was that they wanted to bring a community library to Mafeteng! What luck! We exchanged numbers, and I told him I would be happy to help in any way I could… I’ve not heard anything from him yet, but there’s still time.

Needless to say, I had a very eventful Sunday, which was good because it took my mind off the impending doom of Monday morning, when I would have to get up and TEACH AGAIN.

Actually, Monday (the first day of second term) wasn’t so bad. It was pretty laid back; many students were absent or very late, so I took it easy with my classes. We chatted about winter break, World Cup and what was coming up second semester. Over the break, I decided to start a Life Skills club. This is something that is supposed to be in the schedule for forms A, B and C, but our timetable is apparently too full. In my opinion, it’s something that should be there (to some extent) in all forms, so I figured an optional, after school club would be a good way to gauge interest and hopefully prove that it is worthwhile. I talked with my classes about joining the club, what all it would entail and that it would not be for a grade. Another teacher (who will be helping me with the club) made an announcement about the sign-up sheet yesterday (Tuesday) at assembly in the morning, and as of 4:30 this afternoon (at the end of the schoolday), there were 65 people signed up. Maybe that doesn’t seem like a lot, but by my calculations, that’s over 20% of the school! Success! I think I’ll have to split them up to make the size of the group more manageable, but still, I’m thrilled so many students want Life Skills!

Now for some more uplifting stories, and maybe even some funny stuff…

In one class, as I was talking about second term projects, I mentioned that I wanted to have an art contest. The students looked at me like I had sprouted a second head, so I tried to clarify. “You know, drawing, coloring, painting…” The whole room exploded in laughter. “What’s so funny about painting?” They laughed even harder. I was absolutely perplexed. Finally, amid peals of giggles, one girl said, “Madam, PANTIES?! Like, underwear?! You want to have a contest about the underwear?!” HA! Oh yeah, my native English accent. I hate it when that gets in the way.

In my last class of the day on Monday, I arrived to find only a handful of the boys. The girls, they told me, were washing the lunch dishes. I wasn’t thrilled about this, but whatever, I wasn’t planning on doing anything formal anyway. The guys had been reading any and all newspaper clippings they could find from the World Cup. We talked about how awesome Spain was and I taught them how to pronounce the “LL” in Spanish. With names like Villa and Casillas, it’s kind of important. We then named all the Spanish players and talked about some other stars of the tournament, and as we were flipping through the newspaper clippings, we came to a page with Shrek and Donkey. One of the kids (sometimes a troublemaker) points to the page and says, “Madam, do you know these two?” I told him yes, of course, I knew Shrek and Donkey, but before I could finish, he said, “See! Here are (two of my students whose names I’m going to omit)!” The other guys cracked up and I couldn’t help it but laugh. I don’t think the two were offended; I’m pretty sure they were laughing right along with the rest of us. I was surprised at his quick wit – it’s funny because those two students are good buddies and one talks… a lot.

After we’d exhausted the newspapers, I remembered that my dad had sent me some awesome magazines with articles about the World Cup. I ran back to my house and grabbed the copy of “Four-Four-Two” he’d sent. Those kids practically started throwing elbows, trying to get a glimpse of the magazine. I don’t think they read many of the articles, but they were mesmerized by the photos. Anytime they turned to a picture, they would all (almost in unison) name each and every player in the shot. It was adorable.

Once upon a time, last semester, when I was supposed to give an exam, I couldn’t because all the students who had not paid their school fees were told to go home and not come back until they had paid. This particular day, I had two students in one class, so I took them to the library. I encouraged them to check out all the beautiful books. They each chose a picture book and sat down to flip through the pictures. Finally, I grabbed my coloring books and a handful of crayons, and they jumped at the chance to color pictures. One of these students chose to color a picture of Santa and one of Mrs. Claus (it’s a Christmas coloring book). He did a fine job, though I don’t think it registered as Santa in his mind, so the beard is brown instead of white. No big deal; that’s called creative license.

The next day, I saw them taped to the back wall of the classroom, near his desk, and I smiled. The next week, they were gone, but as I went around checking math assignments, I saw that he had Santa on the front of his notebook and Mrs. Claus on the back. Again, I smiled. Today in class, I saw that he had written “Hope Dube” by Santa. I was confused, so I asked what was hope dube? He looked at me and said, “Madam! Ke Hope Dube!” … as if anyone in their right mind should know what Hope Dube is (ke, in Sesotho, means “it is”). I asked again until finally one of the other students told me that Hope Dube is actually the author of a story they had to read for English, called The Rainy Season. The student then began quoting the story; “Mama want a fish!” I couldn’t help but laugh. “But the stream was dry.” He then flipped his notebook over to Mrs. Claus, pointed to her and said “Mama!” flipped it back over to Santa (aka Hope Dube) and said (again, in his funny little accent), “Ke Hope Du-be!” By this point, my tummy hurt I was laughing so hard. Apparently Santa Claus is the author of a popular story in the English curriculum in Lesotho, and Mrs. Claus is one of the main characters. Who knew?!

Sometime over the break, we received letters from our partner class in America (World Wise Schools – check it out!), so I passed them out to my students yesterday and today. Naturally, American students make American references, some of which my students didn’t understand. My favorite was today when one of my brightest students asked, “Madam! Madam! What is a … hot… dog?” The look on his face was priceless. I tried to explain a hotdog, but his conclusion was that I should make them for the class sometime. Ha. In all seriousness though, it was really heartwarming to see my students so excited about receiving letters from American pen-pals. I told them to ask me with any questions they might have about anything confusing, and so far, some have. What is a pet? What is hanging out? My favorite so far has to be the hotdog.

Well, I’m now spilling onto the 5th page in my word document and unfortunately running out of battery on my computer. It’s probably time to call it a night and tuck in and read for a while. Teaching continues to be hot or cold, but everything else is grand. It’s great to have teachers back on the campus and I have many things to look forward to this semester. I’ll keep updating as I have the stories and electricity to do so… though the stories will probably come much before the electricity. Ah well, such is life in Africa!

Love from Lesotho,

-Katie

I can't believe July is almost over and August is just around the weekend bend! Where has my winter vacation gone? Going into the break, I was pretty nervous about finding things to do and seeing people... it was incredibly deserted at my site as soon as winter classes closed (back in late June). All the students who had been coming stopped showing up, and all those who stay in the village but live elsewhere went home-home. Understandable. I had quite a few students ask me if I went home to America for the break. I would either say it is too expensive or too far. Each of my responses got a different answer from my students. If I said it is too expensive, they ask too much, and then cluck and shake their head when I give my best estimate and convert into local currency. When I say it is too far, they ask how long it takes to drive there... and then (for obvious reasons), we start talking about other things, namely why one cannot, in fact, drive to America.

Though I didn't make it home-home, I did find some pretty cool stuff to do. I'll try to give a brief overview of all my latest vacation fun, Most recently, I was at a really great HIV/AIDS and Lifeskills Training, much thanks to the Peace Corps and PEPFAR (President's Emergency Plan For AIDS Relief). We had several days with plenty of guest speakers and sessions about ideas for projects in our schools and communities. It gave me quite a few ideas for things I want to try at school as well as in my village, and I'm excited to start some of these projects! It was also nice to see most all the other volunteers from my group and stay in a beautiful lodge (hot showers and electricity too!), away from the bustle of Maseru and much larger than the training center. I'll elaborate on those projects later.

Before that, I was at a friend's site, helping to build keyhole gardens for several OVCs (Orphans/Vulnerable Children) in and around his village. He had already done the groundwork for where and when we would build, he just needed extra volunteer power. Actually, technically, the Basotho around the area did most of the work. I think the volunteer role was primarily to make a scene and attract attention from the locals. Once they came over to see what exactly was going on, we would give them a shovel or wheelbarrow and tell them to go find manure for the garden. Altogether, we built a garden a day for four days, though I left on the last day and didn't finish that build. It was amazing how quickly we got it down to a science and how fast it went when we knew what we were doing and had sufficient help from the locals. Curious about what exactly a keyhole garden is? Google it. I just did - lots of cool stuff comes up. There are lots of advantages to this type of garden, plus they look really cool. Each garden will be tended by an orphan, who will then use the profits of selling the veggies for whatever he/she needs, probably food, clothes, school fees, things along those lines. It was incredibly rewarding building these. For one, it's always cool working with local villagers. It's also SO nice to be able to see exactly what you accomplished in the day. At the end of each build, we could point to, sit on, take a picture of each garden, and see the actual person it would help.

The second and third days of garden-building, the women who lived around the build-site made us food. First came motoho, a sort of sour porridge. We all dumped lots of sugar in (which is absolutely allowed). My understanding is that they eat it as a sort of appetizer. The only problem with that is that your stomach is actually pretty full when they bring out the next dish. Then was either nyekoe, which is a blend of beans and sorghum cooked together (and was delicious), or papa and moroho - the ever-present papa with cabbage cooked in lots of oil and salt. After working all morning, the snack was perfect and an incredibly kind gesture.

Before the gardens, I went up to help a friend with his library. His school had already received the books and sorted them by category (children's, sci-fi, etc) and so we had to sticker them, shelve them and then do an inventory of all the books. In the mornings, we would give any students who showed up to school (usually just Form D and E) some challenge problems (off a poster from my momma and the MCTM). We let them try the problems for a while and then all went over the answers together. Then we would extend the invitation (and maybe bribe them with our music and speakers) to help us out in the library. The turn-out was great! They all came in at least to see the room and look at a few books, though some actually dug right in. At one point, it looked like a regular story-time read-aloud! I have a feeling this library is going to be well-loved and properly used, which is a big thing here. I must admit though, I had SO much fun going through all the children's books and even some of the young adult books. Lots of fond memories... (We also went running and climbed the mountain near his house. There were parts of the climb where we were literally climbing rocks. It. Was. Great.)

Before THAT, it was the World Cup. I had a few friends over that weekend to watch the games at my school. It was a blast - we also borrowed my school's computer speakers and had a killer dance party. As one of the only ones on campus, I didn't even have to worry about how loud we were being... and we were definitely loud.

Before that, well, I think I'm not THAT terrible about updating this, so I won't go too much earlier.

Up next in my life: School starts Monday. I cannot believe it. I need to get home today to start planning for next week (and semester). Thankfully this semester is shorter than the last and I just found out recently that my momma wants to come and visit around Christmas time! So much to look forward to!

Day to day stuff is pretty good, still lots of ups and downs. I have great friends who are a fantastic support system, and a good school with lots of wonderful teachers. I still get homesick every once in a while, but I still think I'm in the right place for me.

Love from Africa,

Katie

Happy (belated) American Independence Day!

It was definitely a unique 4th ... it started with a hike down a mountain and a run to a nearby village to attend church with another PCV. Her host family here is very involved with this church and she had never been, so we told her we would come too, then celebrate America's Independence together. I'm a bit sick with who-knows-what, so the run was painful, but church was decent, and her site is beautiful. It was a nice tour and her host family was very polite and gracious.

On the way back, we found some maize cobs to stand in for the traditional corn-on-the-cob. Our dinner was delicious: baked potatoes, green salad (a rarity here, especially considering its winter!), guacamole (not very American, but still darn tasty) and maize on the cob. We boiled the maize for probably close to an hour, it was still tough at dinner, but still nice to eat something resembling corn off a cob. There were no fireworks. Instead, we watched 27 Dresses with the audio about 3 seconds off from the visual. It's amazing what you settle for in Africa... that wouldn't have lasted on my television more than five minutes in America - I'd be too frustrated to continue. Here though, we all wanted to watch the movie so much (it is SO cute, after all) that we were able to ignore it.

In other news, our mailbox in Mafeteng is no longer ours. I edited my address list on the left of my blog, but figured I should mention it here too. If you do plan on sending me anything (which I really appreciate) please just use one of those two addresses.

Winter is strange here. Without the structure of the school day, I find myself missing home more, especially knowing that it's warm there and most of my family is at our cabin! Instead of bathing once a week, I could be swimming in a lake multiple times a day... instead of limited produce, I could be eating watermelon, strawberries, raspberries, blueberries, ... fresh fruits, delicious garden vegetables and drinking iced tea and lemonade on the dock. Instead of wearing so many layers I can't move normally, I could be wearing shorts and a t-shirt, or just wrapping up in a towel between trips to the lake. Instead of crazy taxi rides where I can barely move because it's so crowded, I could be riding in our boat where I can barely move because it's so beautiful on our lake. Sigh... All that said, I still think this is the right place for me right now in my life. I'm just really coming to realize how blessed I am in so many ways...

I'll write more when I can...

Love from Africa,

-Katie

July 1, 2010

In case you need a little refresher, when I last wrote, the following things needed to happen in order for my friends and I to see America play: First, USA had to beat Algeria, preferably 2-0. Second, England had to beat Slovenia, preferably 1-0. Well, both things happened. Our round two game was the game between the US and Ghana.

Unfortunately, I was unable to watch the final group matches for both the US and England… The other teachers at school ALL knew how excited I was for this game and how important it was to me that I see it. The game was on at 4 in the afternoon, and because it was the final group match, they had no problem firing up the generator and projecting it. I slept until around noon that day (Wednesday), and went for a nice run when I woke up. I washed some clothes (before going away for the weekend) and talked with my dad on the phone for a while before I needed to bathe. Soon enough it was 3:55pm and I still heard no generator. This was strange because normally the teacher who is in charge of the generator powers it up at least half an hour before the match. I was perplexed. I grabbed my America bling from the first US match and my vuvuzela and was out the door, looking for this teacher. He wasn’t at his house. He wasn’t in the staffroom. Either of the staffrooms. He wasn’t at the shop in the village. By this point (3:15), I was frantic. One of the most important games was going on and nobody knew where he was or how to get the keys to the generator. Finally, I asked another teacher for his phone number. I called him, only to find out that he was in town. He had gone to town for the day. Livid doesn’t quite accurately describe the shade of red I was seeing. I was so hurt that he didn’t think enough in advance to at least leave the keys with someone else here so we could watch in case he didn’t get back in time!

I ran down to my principal’s place, hoping he had an extra set of keys somewhere, but he was having key difficulties of his own: he had just locked the school truck keys in the ignition and was trying to pry the lock open using a bent coat hanger. When I explained the situation, he got flustered and said. “Now I’m panicking so it is becoming difficult!” I went back home, turned the radio on and tried to calm myself down. Several moments later I heard an engine roar and my principal came tearing up to my house. He had opened the truck and was going to pick up the other teacher so we could see maybe the second half.

As we were flying out of the compound and over the terrible road, the principal called this other teacher, only to find out that he had not yet left town. At this point, over 30 minutes had elapsed. The teacher had told me he was on his way back (before claiming he couldn’t hear me and hanging up), and told another teacher that he was at a point somewhere between my school and town, though closer to MAfeteng. I was under the impression he was on his way home and that we were going to be able to valiantly rescue him from his (probably unnecessarily slow) taxi and drive back to Sekameng to watch the end of the game. There was apparently some miscommunication. He hadn’t left town?! I was beside myself. We were listening to the game on the radio, but somehow Sesotho commentary isn’t quite the same. They would raise their voices and I would frantically look to my principal to see what was happening. By halftime we were waiting in town, trying to get a hold of this teacher… but he “couldn’t hear us” whenever we did call. It seemed he had no intention of making it back for the game. Ugh.

After getting gas in the car, we headed back toward home, listening to second half. He stopped at a small shop to get a loaf of bread right after the US scored their first goal, so I was crossing my fingers and holding my breath for the remaining few minutes home.

If there is one thing to be said for my principal, it is that he is a very happy individual and I really enjoy talking with him. Even though I was sorely disappointed about missing the game, we were engaged in some cheery conversation when my phone rang with a call from a friend (one of my Rustenberg travel buddies)… “Hey, wanna go see the United States play?!” WHOA. It was then that I learned about the goal in stoppage time… I got home and blew my vuvuzela until I couldn’t breathe anymore.

After dinner (and a fair amount of solo dance party celebration), I went up to watch the evening game and guess who was there with the generator already running… Yep.

So it was determined that the United States of America would play Ghana in Rustenberg on Saturday, July 26th at 8:30 pm. And we had tickets.

Thursday brought a trip to town to pick up my license, print some maps and meet up with the other travel buddies. We bought ribbons and paint to dress ourselves up for the match. We had some necklaces and vuvuzelas leftover from the other America games and the trip to Bloem, but nothing was quite red, white and blue enough. We cut, colored and taped everything we could think of… check out the photos on my photo site for the actual evidence.

Friday morning, we packed up and headed out early to get to Bloemfontein, where our lovely little rental car was waiting for us. The workers at the car rental place actually tried to convince the four of us that our car was nowhere large enough for four people and luggage, but after being in Lesotho and dealing with the very crowded taxis (sometimes with 25+ people in a 15-passenger van), we assured them it was plenty spacious and took off for Rustenberg.

Driving on the left side of the road was interesting. It took me a little while to adjust, but as long as I was aware of the fact that I was not driving in America, everything was fine. It was a bit strange to be shifting gears with my left hand; everything sort of felt backwards, like trying to write with my left hand… By the time we had navigated Johannesburg, I was ready for a change, so our other driver took over (first time stick driver!) and did a fantastic job. We made to the hostel shortly after dark, dropped stuff off and went to check out the scene at the Waterfall mall for dinner.

After pacing the food court for maybe 20 minutes (decisions involving more than two choices have become a problem since being in Lesotho), we finally decided on a cute little (knockoff) Italian restaurant (called Milaneza, I mean really), where we got lots of warm, cheesy food and some fresh salads. Although we promised ourselves the biggest piece of rich, chocolate cake, nobody had room, so we went home (with full stomachs and doggy-boxes) to rest up for the next day’s game.

Question: How does one start the day off right when one’s team is going to be playing a Round 2 World Cup game later in the evening? Answer: MUFFINS. The amazing muffin restaurant and coffee shop (actually called Mugg&Bean) exists in more than one mall (aka: it is a chain)! So we had several cups of coffee and amazing muffins (and a bagel) before cruising the mall in search of a flag for Shanthi to wear as a cape. We had seen an American flag in the window of a shop the night before, so we were fairly certain we would be able to find one. No such luck. Finally, Adam went back to the store where we’d seen the flag the previous night, which ended up being a bakery, and talking to the people there. They told him that if we found another flag to hang in its place, they wouldn’t mind swapping flags. Perfect!

Back at the hostel, we snacked and relaxed and got all geared up for the game. Check out the photos on my picasa site for evidence. There was a lot of paint, both face and body, and more red, white and blue than I think I’ve ever seen in my life. We tried to think of things to write on ourselves to get us on TV, and finally decided on Peace Corps, plain and simple. I had it written on my back in tape, as did Eric but Adam had it written on his back in paint…

Getting to the stadium was quite a process. We were able to find signs for the stadium and satellite parking, no problem. We parked and climbed onto a shuttle bus. From far away, the stadium lights were beautiful… (I think I put up a photo of this?) and when we arrived, people were taking our pictures like we were celebrities. It was funny, we could all tell the difference between the true American America fans and any other impostors. The fake fans would all ask Adam whether or not he was cold, while the real ones sang songs like “When the Yanks Come Marching In” and “Sweet Caroline” … We sat in front of two really nice guys from Wisconsin who had seen the US play all their group games. It was really refreshing to find and chat with some other Midwesterners – full speed American English complete with MN/WI references!

The game was awfully exciting, with the exception of the final score. I’m gonna have to refer you to my pictures again at this point, I can’t even begin to describe how incredible it all was.

We didn’t get out until well after midnight and were pretty hungry. By the time we got food (a Combo 8 in some cases, haha) and home, it was well after 2. By the time we washed our faces five times and Adam got a shower, it was past 3am… so of course we made it out of the hostel the next morning by 8am. I was so proud.

To sum up: Road-tripping to Rustenberg was awesome (once Shanthi and Adam made the radio stop changing stations every 30 seconds). Seeing America play was absolutely incredible. I am more proud to be an American now than I have ever been before.

Love from Africa,

-Katie

After my last post, I might need to eat my words.

I just want to make sure you all understand I have NO anti-Bafana Bafana sentiment. I am so thrilled that they beat France (even though it wrought havoc on my bracket!), though definitely pretty surprised as well. I got to watch the match with a room FULL of my students and some other teachers, and the energy level was out of control...

I also got to play a bit of futbol with some of the boarders and village guys today... they are SO fast. There isn't really grass on the (uneven) soccer pitch outside the school grounds, so the ball moves really fast and bounces pretty unpredictably. It makes for a really interesting game. I'm definitely not in soccer shape anymore, but my running endurance helps a bit.

Next up: Greece vs. Argentina...

I can hear the generator humming already, which means... KE NAKO!

June 21-22, 2010

Happy (late) Fathers Day! So much to update!

I went to a friend’s site for the first USA match, against England. We decorated anything we could turn into something to wear – hats, medals, glasses, … you name it, it had red, white and blue all over it. Thanks to a poor move on the England keeper’s part, we tied. Woo!

The next day, several of us went on one of the longest, most excruciating runs I have ever done. By our best guess, it was at least 9 miles, probably more. The first two or three were relatively flat, but the next part (until we turned around) was a MASSIVE downhill. It was all so scenic, running down into a big mountain valley, arriving at the river and looking around… then the reality struck: we had to run back up it all too. Due to my recent general laziness, my fitness is, well, lacking. We ended up walking up much of it, but still, my running timer said something around an hour, fifteen minutes by the time we made it back. It was one of the most beautiful runs I have ever gone on, but my hip flexors were sore for days…

The next day, I headed back to site to help out with some of the winter classes, specifically Form E Math, more specifically: statistics. Ugh. I love math, but statistics has got to be one of the driest topics. Nonetheless, I took them through a crash course (for both of us – I hadn’t prepared enough) in means, medians and modes, making up some data and going with it. My brilliant in-class example was to ask the students how old they each are. This is usually not a problem for me, but then again I teach form A and B. These was form E. The first three students I asked were older than me. Turns out, their ages range from 17 to 27 (the range is 10)… which means at 22, I’m right around the middle. I made the class guess how old they thought I was before I gave that bit away, but they were still pretty surprised.

What else is new… oh yeah, I went to a World Cup game. No big deal… We saw Greece and Nigeria and it was definitely a highlight of my life. We got to Bloemfontein plenty early to take in some sights (aka get delicious non-Lesotho food at one of their two malls), buy some fan gear and get pumped for the game. By 2pm we were heading to the stadium, all decked out in Nigeria (or Greece) gear, anxious to start face-painting. Most of us painted something on our faces, though I had the entire Nigerian flat on my face. And it was awesome.

The game was so much fun – we were actually pretty close to the field, maybe 15th row back about 3/4 of the way down the field on one side. The vuvuzelas (loud, obnoxious horn things that, yes, I admit, I bought) dominated all sound, but it was SO much fun. The whole feel in the stadium was absolutely electric and all vuvuzelas were absolutely silent for both national anthems. In case you haven’t seen any matches on television (first of all, shame on you, but second), the players are escorted out by children who then stand in front of them during the national anthems. These kids are absolutely precious – grinning ear to ear as they stand with their heroes. It’s worth flipping on your tv, if only for the last few minutes before a game.

Nigeria scored first. Then came the red card, and unfortunately, it was mostly downhill from there. Greece scored twice over the course of the game and beat Nigeria 2-1, with 11 men to 10. We were situated in the middle of a predominantly Greek fan section, and there was a family down and to our left, who kept hollering things at us whenever Greece did something right or Nigeria messed up. At one point, looking at my friend’s American hat, one of the men shouted, “What do Americans know about football anyway?!” From then on, we chose to ignore them as much as possible.

The game was absolutely incredible (in case you hadn’t picked up on that yet) and I had so much fun. Our group of four is very much looking forward to our second game, which will be this Saturday. Cross your fingers that the US can pull off 1st in our group – then we’ll be cheering for them in Rustenberg! In order for that to happen, they need to beat Algeria by 2, ideally. England needs to beat Slovenia by 1, ideally. Let’s hope they can do it!

Tonight, Tuesday, Bafana Bafana plays France and I’m pretty sure they’re going to be absolutely thrashed. It’s going to be slightly depressing watching with my students and other teachers (who all support RSA), but at least a French win will help my bracket. Ha. Selfish much?

As I was walking back to my site from the junction (my solid 45-minute walk home) after seeing the game, there were some men in the field who started calling me. Normally, I greet the farmers and harvesters and keep moving; I’m usually not sure exactly what they’re saying and I usually have some place to be (or am running). This man though, shouted very clearly, “’M’e, the maize is ready! Come!” I hesitated a bit but he kept yelling at me, so I eventually headed into the fields where he and several other bo’ntate were, hovered over a small pan and cooking individual maize kernels. He insisted on giving me some, but since they were too hot, he opened up my fleece jacket pocket and stuffed some inside. I tasted a couple, and they were pretty good… like popcorn that was not completely popped, just opened up a bit, but still very warm. “Is it nice? Are you satisfied?” I nodded and thanked them profusely as he stuffed several more handfuls into my pocket. It was such a pleasant change from being harassed for money or sweets to receiving maize. As I walked away munching, he yelled one more time. “’M’e! You can take us the photo! Or you have no camera?” I apologized, telling him that my camera was at home, but next time I would definitely “take them the photo.” He flashed the thumbs up and went back to harvesting. Cool stuff.

Unfortunately, my battery is dying, but fortunately, I’m going to play soccer with some students before France dominates Bafana Bafana.

Peace, love and FOOTBALL from Africa!

-Katie

June 9, 2010 - 2 Days till Kickoff...

I just got back from a delightful run (second day in a row I got my lazy bum out of my house!) with three of the Form D students. Normally students don’t actually come with; they’ll just ask whether or not they can run with me and then flake out. This time, I took off across the soccer pitch and it wasn’t until I passed the primary school that I heard three sets of feet and some boys talking behind me. I was absolutely thrilled to have their company – it was like running with other PCVs, but I could keep up. When we got to where I normally turn around and do an extra loop, they wanted to continue, all the way to the junction. I was pretty tired on the way back, but managed to hang in there until we came to the soccer field again, at which point I sprinted to the finish, and they all fell over in exhaustion. I didn’t feel so bad about being tired the entire rest of the run; I still out-sprinted them. HA. It’s about the small things in life, right?

This morning my principal brought me some mail… one letter from my family, dated January, and one from my grandparents, dated December. On Friday, I received a letter (with photos enclosed) from my mother… also dated January. The mail system is a complete mystery to me. If you have sent me anything and I haven’t received it yet, please don’t worry. I’m sure it will get here by the time I leave in a year and a half.

As I was shutting my computer down last night, I remembered a few more things I wanted to let you all know about. First, sadly, another teacher caught two of my students cheating on my math exam. Sad for several reasons. First, one of the students is one of the top students in my class. Second, their supposed cheating (I’m still not sure who I believe, the students or the teacher, how terrible is that?!) didn’t help them. AT ALL. One still failed and the other barely passed. What was the point?! I’m pretty disappointed, to say the least.

That same morning, in the classroom where I was proctoring, one of my favorite students (who shall remain unnamed here, poor guy) looked like he was really struggling with my exam. He looked so bothered and kept shifting in his seat, like he was really uncomfortable with the questions. Normally, I find him very entertaining. He speaks good English and even though he can be quite chatty some days, most of the time he gets it. I was a little bothered that my exam was giving him so much trouble… Finally, he took his piece of scratch paper (really two loose-leaf sheets stuck together, it’s as the paper would come in a notebook), ripped it in half, and got up. My immediate thought was “Oh great, he’s going to ‘go to the toilet’ with his pen and this scratch paper, work out some problems and come back… or maybe he has a calculator there and will get the answers that way. Perfect.”

Sure enough, the little guy got up with his paper, which he began crumpling and wrinkling, but he left his pen behind. “Madam, please may I go to the toilet?” I was about to say, “Yes, but leave the paper here,” when it hit me that most students probably don’t bring toilet paper to school. Poor guy. I couldn’t help but crack up as he dashed out of the room, and again smile (and bite my tongue) when he returned, looking considerably more relaxed, with no sheet of answer-containing paper. Yep, this is Africa.

Love (and humor) from Africa,

Katie

June 8, 2010

First and foremost, my deepest sympathies to the Leonard family. I’m so very sorry for your loss. You’ll be in my thoughts (especially as my thoughts wander to Pulaski this winter!)…

On a lighter note… I’m finished. I’ve given all my exams, I’ve helped invigilate other exams, I’ve marked

(graded) my exams, I’ve combined the science grades, recorded the grades and there is nothing left for me to do here. I can’t believe a semester has already passed, though it’s a reality check: time is passing.

In addition to the chickens we have at school, there are also pigs. One of the sows had piglets, so occasionally in the evenings when they are fed, I hear squealing. Well, last week I got the news that one of the bigger pigs was going to become lunchmeat. Literally. The school slaughtered it yesterday. Right out in public. All the students (who were finished writing their exams) watched and giggled as the poor thing writhed in fear as it was tied to the base of the big water tank. And then they watched and “oohed” and “ahhed” as the blood spurted from its throat after it had been speared. I know about the blood only because I had the misfortune of walking over to talk to someone as they were “draining” it. Unfortunate. I had hoped to stay completely oblivious to all pig-killing procedures, especially after I saw four students dragging it with a rope from the pig sty to the main part of the school grounds, before they tied it up and speared it. Poor thing.

I guess the only consolation is that they will use absolutely every edible part of that poor creature. I went to get my lunch today, samp, like every Tuesday, and not my favorite, but I’ve learned to spice it up and make it palatable. I discovered that there were leftover beans from yesterday so loaded up and took a little samp to be polite to the fantastic women who cook for the school every day. Plus samp and beans is supposed to be pretty good. I was about to leave when one of the other teachers who was also taking her lunch at that time called me over to a big pot near one where they had cooked samp and said, “Look, ‘m’e Katie… “ I didn’t hear the last part of her sentence but as I looked into the big pot, I realized the word pretty quickly: intestines. Let’s just say, they smell pretty bad, even though I’m sure the bo ‘m’e prepared them to be delicious. I was less than thrilled with the discovery, and after making a horribly rude disgusted noise, I explained to the bo ‘m’e that I don’t eat meat, so the intestines don’t appeal to me either… I hope they understood.

In other news, I’m thrilled to inform you that my school has a way for me to watch World Cup 2010 (Feel it… It is HEAH). When the generator went on today, it was outside, which is a bit unusual. I soon discovered this was to minimize the noise in the room where the projector and satellite television recorder were hooked up, broadcasting soccer! So exciting. It’s like one of my friends says… it’s great being in Lesotho during the World Cup in South Africa because we get to go to the games, but it’s not so great for all the other games since most places (where PCVs are located anyway) don’t have electricity or television enough so we can watch. I’m really hoping this solves that problem.

After I finished proctoring and handing back math exams, I went for a run. It’s been an unfortunate amount of time since my last run… I won’t even tell you, I’m embarrassed. Let’s just say it showed today. I was winded two minutes in, and on my way back, I wiped out. I had just greeted a couple who passed me with their double-donkey-drawn cart, and on no apparent rock, my foot caught. Next thing I knew, I was skidding on my palms and knees, trying to not break my iPod (thank goodness I bought that hard case before I left for Africa – I don’t even want to think about the state of my iPod if it were unprotected…). This wouldn’t be such a big deal if it weren’t for the fact that not even two weeks ago, I did the same thing. I banged up both knees and palms… last time, I got my elbow too, but really? Has my coordination deteriorated so much? Hopefully I’ll get it back quickly, or my medical kit’s supply of bandaids will be gone before Friday.

When I got back to campus, I found the school secretary talking with some of the other teachers! She’s been on maternity leave for a month or two now, and had her baby boy two weeks ago. It was great to see her again, and her baby is beautiful. I don’t remember all the cultural traditions around births in the family, but I think I’m pretty fortunate (traditionally, at least) to have seen such a young baby. He is sooo tiny! Teboho. It’ll be fun watching him grow the next year and a half…

My other piece of news is that I’m trying to make a trip to Egypt next Easter break work out… a friend who studied abroad there is planning on returning and well, I’m already on the continent… what better time than now? I’d have an excellent (Arabic-speaking, a bit at least, right?) tour guide and a great excuse to see the pyramids! What more could anyone ask for? Cross your fingers for me that it works out; I’m pretty sure it’d be an amazing trip. (I’ve already started reading through one of my other friend’s tour guide books of Egypt… and planning a little… )

Well, my fingers are getting quite chilly, so I’m going to go warm them up with a nice cup of tea and maybe some dinner. Oh, and I cannot tell you how well I will sleep tonight. I ran, took my (weekly, ha) bath (including hair wash – it smells so nice!), AND washed my sheets today. Plus I can sleep in tomorrow!

Siblings – enjoy the last few days of school and the first few of summer! I miss you and can’t believe you’ve finished another year of school… stop growing please?

Love from Africa,

-Katie

Winter is here. There is no disputing that. Along with it have come some interesting experiences... and because I have not much else better to do right now, I'm going to post them here. But only two of them... for now.

1. The amusing: When we move in to our sites, Peace Corps requires that we have some form of heater, usually one that hooks up to our gas tanks. When I moved in, I not only has the previous volunteer's cooking gas tank, but also a smaller one that was next to my heater. I wasn't sure how to hook it up, but at the time I moved in, it didn't seem pressing since I could barely sleep without sweating. When it started getting cooler, some friends and I decided to have a sort of heater standoff. Basically, it was, "Hey guys, we should see who can go the longest without using a heater in their house!" I figured hey, I'm a Minnesotan. I can probably out-cold any of these other non-MN jokers (and I still haven't used mine). However, the teachers basically die if the staff room isn't heated beyond belief. I came into the language staff room to use the internet (since it's much better up here) and found the heater on. Another teacher came in and shoved it nice and close to me; she likely thought I was about to become an ice cube. I'm not gonna complain, it was really nice to have a heater several feet away from me, but it didn't last long. Some other teachers came in and said. "Madam, can we share the heater?" I nodded; I didn't need it. They proceeded to swipe the heater, put it between them at the far end of the staffroom, and then they left. I was astonished. Really? That's what share means? I stole it back, but they came in again not 5 minutes later and did the same thing. Oh well...

2. The slightly disgusting: I am bathing much less frequently here. Note: if this statement alone is too gross for you, please do us both a favor and stop reading... it doesn't get any better. I will be frank and say that until last night, I'd not washed my hair since Saturday (I was pushin for a full week, but it didn't work out like that). As I was reading, I reached up to scratch an itch on my head. This turned into a full itching frenzy. It was the single worst itch I have EVER felt on my head. Even a while after I'd stopped scratching, my scalp would burn until I rubbed it again. I decided there was no way I was going to be able to sleep with this itch on my head, so I got up, grabbed my conditioner and rubbed some onto my scalp. It helped, but only temporarily. I waited another 10 minutes, tossing and turning and willing myself to forget about the itch. No such luck. I ended up having to get out of my lovely, warm cocoon to heat water, grab my shampoo and basin, and actually wash my hair. I felt absolutely ridiculous, but afterwards, my head did not itch. In fact, it felt quite nice, and my hair smelled amazing... I read a while more and finally fell asleep. My hair this morning when I woke up (after tossing and turning with a head of wet hair) was another story. I guess I deserved that one.

Seriously, what has my life become?!

June 3, 2010

Well, I’m finished with four of my six exam days. I’ve given both physics exams, so only math remains… that will be on Monday. I’ve also finished grading all the exams. And recording the marks (as much as I can when the official gradebooks are actually shared amongst all the teachers so naturally, two are missing… two of the four I need). This means I really have very little left to do around school… Monday I’ll give my mathematics exam, and Tuesday I’ll help “invigilate” another exam. And then I’m done.

Since our secretary has been away on maternity leave (bouncing baby boy!), the librarian and I have each been working parts of her job as well: copying, printing, typing… Today was probably the busiest I have been since I arrived in Lesotho, and I must say, I really enjoyed it. Between invigilating, grade-entering, printing, copying, typing, printing, copying, egg-selling and tea-drinking (a girls gotta keep warm!), I didn’t get lunch until 2:30 and it was only then that I realized how hungry I truly was. The busy-ness is something that doesn’t really exist very frequently for me here; usually I have a good amount of down time… today was a very nice change. The only downside is that I haven’t saved any work for tonight after the sun sets and I have to sit by candlelight until its late enough (or I’m tired enough, whichever comes first) to bundle up and sleep.

I’m not sure what this weekend has in store. There was talk at one point of visiting a nearby friend at her school for “Poetry Night” with her Healthy Living club, but I’m not sure whether or not that will materialize. I’ll need to go grocery shopping, naturally, but that’s something I’ve come to enjoy, especially as foods (and deals – I’m still a bargain hunter!) change with the seasons (and I have built in refrigeration now!). I suppose I should probably find something to do so I don’t die of boredom, but what exactly that might be, I couldn’t tell ya (right now anyway).

Even though I’m not reviewing for any exams, I’ve learned some valuable lessons this week:

1. If you are planning to draw anything on an exam before you copy it for your 70-80 students, don’t forget to draw it… drawing anything on that many exams is such a drag.

2. Just because students are made to switch classrooms does not mean they won’t still cheat. I was absolutely amazed to see two students from different grades talking (obviously about their exams – one agriculture and one English language) during an exam. Wow.

3. Students will knock on your door, (almost) no matter what time it is. I was making breakfast this morning (granted, I make breakfast rather late nowadays since it is so cold!) and there came a knock. I didn’t believe it at first, but sure enough, a few seconds later there was another knock. They wanted their exams from the day before. Unreal. Lucky for them I had actually graded them!

4. At first I felt bad about not knowing all of my students’ names as they came to collect their graded exams. However, when I went over to another teacher’s place to combine grades, she didn’t know all their names either!!! I felt a lot better about myself.

5. Sometimes, you don’t need to have a particularly deep conversation to see that students get it too. As I was waiting for my bucket to fill with water the other night, one of the Form E boarders was walking past and asked how my day was. I have a great deal of respect for this student – he is a hard worker, very positive and upbeat all the time, also an athlete and clearly a leader in the school community. I said exams were surprisingly stressful, even for teachers, but my day was fine, and asked him about his. He replied (very enthusiastically), “Life is sooo nice, madam!” I was a bit shocked at first. As the oldest class in school, he has two exams every day, plus those classrooms are cold. Most other students are pretty stressed about even one exam a day, so I asked him why life was so nice. He responded quite simply (as if any idiot should know, myself included), “Madam, if you make your life to be difficult, it will be! But if you make your life to be nice, you will enjoy.” Think about it; the boy has a valid point.

All my love from Africa,

-Katie

June 2, 2010

Winter exams began on Monday. This means several things. First of all, because most exams won’t start until 9am, I get to sleep in. Actually, my body is basically trained to wake up at 7am, so I get to huddle in the blankets longer than normal, not so much sleep later. Second of all, I’m realizing how terribly cold the classrooms can be. It’s one thing to stand in front and move around and lecture for maybe 40 minutes or even 80 minutes if it’s a double lesson, but it is quite another to have to sit there, at the cold desks and take notes while trying not to freeze.

Forms A and B only have morning exams, which is nice, since those are the forms I teach. This means that around 11 or 11:30, I’m done with my official duties for the day. Basotho don’t use the word “proctor” but prefer “invigilate” instead… so I’ve been “invigilating” exams three days now, and have one more before my long weekend. We’ve been mixing up the Form As and Bs so as to minimize cheating (I swear, they still find ways… really, their creativity amazes me sometimes), so half the class will be writing one exam and the other half another. This means most students finish at different times, depending on which exam is more difficult. when students finish their exam, they are expected to hand the exam to the subject teacher, and leave the room. Needless to say, this can cause a bit of commotion with students almost constantly leaving their desk to turn in the exams and walk out. Oh, and during the exams, never mind the fact that it is a final exam, so should be taken seriously… students still share rulers, pens, pencils, erasers… I can never tell if they’re making eye contact about the answer to a question or if someone has been hogging the ruler and needs to pass it along. Then, once enough students are outside, they all begin discussing they exam they just took, which is perfect, because a) I don’t understand their Sesotho and b) most students are still writing that very same exam!

When enough students have finished, they move to the field to play until lunch. Some play soccer, some play volleyball, and some play throw a ball as hard as you can at a girl who is jumping and trying to guard a pile of rocks. It’s truly fascinating to watch. WE’ve been dining later than scheduled, thanks to a minor water crisis. On Monday, we had to actually take buckets and containers into the village to a pump there in order to draw water so the cooks could prepare lunch. We didn’t eat until past 2pm. Since then, water has (thank goodness!) made it to our taps, but lunch has been around 1:30, rather than the projected 12 noon. Oh well, this is Africa.

After the last monthly exams, I promised my form A students that if they could pull a 60% or higher class average, I would bake them cookies. (“Madam?” “Cookies, you know, like biscuits?” “OHHHH BIS-COOOTS!”) Well, each class averaged about 58 or 59% and because their brilliant math teacher didn’t realize they didn’t fully grasp the concept of averages, I made them all cookies anyway. Snickerdoodles, to be precise. It was the recipe that seemed least complicated and least expensive. I kept postponing my baking day, until finally, this weekend I buckled down and fired up the (dutch) oven. I tripled the recipe for snickerdoodles and ended up with over 10 dozen cookies. This was fine by me, I got to give plenty away to teachers and the women who cook for us, as well as keep some for myself. I made the cookies pretty small, I must say… basically bitesize. I wasn’t sure how long that amount of dough would last me, and I figured at least this way I could be sure everyone who needed a cookie would get one.

So today I decided to give the form As their cookies before they took their science exam. Wow, what an endeavor. I had to convince them all to get inside their respective classrooms, sit down and be quiet. Yeah right, that was not gonna happen. Then I tried to calmly walk around and hand one cookie each (which got numerous sighs and exclamations about how small the cookies were and the fact that they only got one each). Well, these kids like food. So most of them started climbing on desks, trying to shove their hand in my face and convince me (as they were chewing and spitting crumbs) that they did not actually receive any cookie yet. Ha! The second classroom wasn’t any better. Kids from my first class were coming in and trying to disguise themselves as my A2 students, claiming they were my visitors, and so I should be culturally sensitive and serve my visitors. The second class also complained about how small their single cookies were. Yikes. I think it is safe to say that is the last time I will bake them all cookies.

I’m through with all my marking (aka grading – up to this point at least), so I have only to enter grades with the other science teachers (we enter them in as a combined science grade rather than one for physics, one for chem., etc). My students write math on Monday, I help proctor on Tuesday and then I’m done for the winter (as long as I can get grades in!)!! Hooray!

World Cup 2010 begins on the 11th of June… like the commercials (and all my students) say, “Feel it… It is here.” Our first game is on the 17th and I cannot wait to see South Africa again! Civilization! Rumor has it there is a HUGE mall in Bloemfontein. I wonder how it compares to the Mall (of America, obviously). Not to worry, I’ll fill you in as soon as I’ve assessed the situation. (Pardon the sarcasm there. Like I told my dad, there are few people in this country who understand and appreciate sarcasm like I do, so when I finally have an audience who does understand it, I tend to let loose.)

In other news, the grocery store had mushrooms last week. That won big points – I made one of the tastiest soups I’ve had in Africa. I also discovered that they carry long-life SKIM milk! WHOA! My house is cold enough that it doesn’t go bad for maybe a week, though a liter did not last me long at all. The best part is that it doesn’t fail to completely dissolve in my coffee or tea like the powdered stuff does. I bravely bought yogurt as well (on my dairy binge, haha) and the stuff I bought on Friday lasted me until today (Wednesday) and tasted fine. Besides the natural refrigeration, I must say that the citrus is probably the best part about winter. Oranges are everywhere and they are beautiful. They also tend to cost less than one rand, which is, quite literally, dirt cheap. If my math is correct, they amount to right around 11-14 cents. You see that on the ground, you probably won’t pick it up. See? Dirt. Cheap.

Ah, the joys of winter foods.

Well, my paraffin lamp has been on almost four hours now (it gets dark soooo early) so it’s probably time to call it a night. Plus I can’t feel my fingers (even though I’m typing with gloves on – pardon any mistsakes) and I’m hearing strange noises coming from my kitchen. My hope is that the water is coming back to my taps inside, but unfortunately, the sounds are unfamiliar. So my bet is that some small critter is enjoying my dry barley and lentils and I’ll discover a large hole in the bag. I’ll save that discovery for tomorrow. For now, I’m going to bundle up under as many blankets as I can find (maybe evcn my sleeping bag tonight, it is chilly) and read under my covers like I used to do when I didn’t want my mom to know I was still awake. Except this time it will be to keep warm.

All you back in America – enjoy the springtime! Enjoy your central heating (even if you’re not using it right now!) Enjoy your flush toilets and hot showers. Man, what I wouldn’t do for a hot shower… Stay healthy, safe and happy!

All my love from Africa,

-Katie

Where does time go. Seriously.

I've not blogged in over a month, yet it feels like maybe a week. I guess that's a good thing? That time passes so quickly sometimes? And yet, sometimes the days can drag on and on and on...

Much has happened; let's see if I can do any of it justice. I'll try for some highlights.

1. THE CHICKENS HAVE ARRIVED! AND THEY'RE LAYING EGGS! This means the school is now making up for some of the money it spent on purchasing the 150 birds. It also means I've got another job each day. If anyone wants eggs, they have to come to me to buy them. The eggs are still small, so the trays (of 30 eggs) aren't selling for full price yet, which means I usually end up haggling a little with the interested buyer. In case you don't know this about me, I absolutely HATE any sort of haggling. I understand it is part of some cultures (though not Basotho culture, really... hmm...) but I hate it. That said, haggling for eggs is painful. I told a teacher a tray of 30 was going to be 15 maloti (the eggs are small, as I said... this is right around, maybe a bit more than half of what a tray should cost). She looked at me like I was crazy, trying to rip her off... and then she told me that she would pay me next week when she has money. Currently, there's about a tray a day coming in and the eggs are getting bigger. I have at LEAST three different teachers who owe me money for eggs. This is going to be a lot more difficult than I'd initially anticipated.

2. My library is still open. I cannot even convey how happy that makes me. Furthermore, students are using it. I peeked at the checkout log the other day and literally did a dance of joy (the very same one that my counterpart makes fun of me for) ... there are several pages FULL of students who have been taking books out. Some of the books are a bit on the difficult side, but I also received some from Peace Corps (with good messages about things relevant to life here) and those seem to be a huge hit. Hooray! I would also like to say that my school has the best librarian in all of Lesotho. Hands down. He is the best.

3. As much as I was planning to resist all things Twilight, I read the first book over the course of maybe four days. I finished the second one within a day and a half... and have just gotten my hands on books three and four. Excellent. I won't be doing much of anything until I've finished those books; thankfully they're easy reads.

4. I got pretty sick last week. I'm betting it was a sinus infection (coincidentally, I had one about this time last year -- when I graduated college! Whoa!) but by the time I could actually see the doctor to try to get antibiotics, I was better enough and was told to keep eating oranges, drinking lots of fluids, taking decongestant, gargling with salt water... the usual. The worst part of it all was that on Monday and Tuesday I had to call in sick to work... which is all of 20 yards from my house. I could see all my students as I was sitting on my couch, bundled up, dozing and reading and miserable... and yet the guilt was unbelievable. Why should I just sit in the comfort of my house when many of them are "suffering from the common cold, madam" and freezing in class, not learning or studying for exams. Definitely an interesting guilt complex associated with being sick here.

5. Exams are coming up! This means that this is the last week of teaching (and Tuesday is a holiday... why the country chooses not to rearrange the holidays to allow for a long weekend is still beyond me, baffling, really) and then we'll have two weeks of exams. I'll be giving three of my own (two physics, one math) and then helping to proctor (invigilate - how's that for a word) several others. The first two of mine are the first week, so I'll be able to mark (aka grade) them before/over the weekend. Then I give my last exam on Monday of the second week... which means I'm going to be done early! Hooray! I really hope my students take these seriously. I also really hope that the exams I've set (written for them) are not too difficult and actually accurately test things I want them to, rather than their ability to comprehend my choice of English words. Needless to say, I've struggled a bit with writing exams, especially for physics. My students always tell me that the questions are phrased in very confusing ways (and they make circles with their hands: roundabout).

6. It is almost legitimately cold. I still haven't used my heater and truthfully, don't plan to. I was thinking that since the weather is getting cooler, I wouldn't sweat myself dehydrated in a taxi, and I was excited about it. False. Absolutely false. They turn the heat up so high it's almost worse than sitting in a taxi on a hot summer day. All other things considered though, I kind of like it. It's like a beautiful fall day every day. The sun still carries a lot of warmth and running outside is really pleasant (though I've fallen a bit from that routine with the recent sickness). Evenings get a bit chilly, but I've always preferred sleeping with a lot of blankets to sweating on top of a sheet. It also means that I bathe much less frequently (don't judge me!) because it is cold in my spare room, where I bathe. Even if I heat the water, the air is still cold, and the hot water isn't continually running down my back. It's sitting at my feet, keeping them nice and toasty while the rest of me is cold. Enough said about bathing.

7. My students wrote letters to our World Wise Schools partner in Wisconsin. They received them and have written back... I cannot express to you how thrilled I am that things are panning out. I think it's a really cool thing that my students will be able to write back and forth with students in America. Cheers, school buddies!

8. IT'S ALMOST WORLD CUP 2010! As the ads on the radio (and ALL of my students) say, "Feel it... It is HEAAAHHH!" All of South Africa and Lesotho is just abuzz with preparations and excitement... it is really exhilarating.

On that note, I'm going to start reading the third Twilight book.

All my love from Africa,

-Katie

4 March

Wow, it’s March already!

Last weekend was the first since I’ve been at site that I just stayed home. No overnights with friends, just a quick shopping trip to Mafeteng to load up. And boy did I load up… to make up for last weeks popcorn-less meals, I bought 2kg of kernels. I needed Weetbix (not heavy but they take space), cake flour, cocoa and butter for the cakes I was going to bake, a fresh 1.5kg of apples (Gala again! Even though they were a little soft!), and several other items. I’m pretty sure the 45-min hike could have killed me, or at least seriously done damage to my left shoulder (I have some crazy bruises from carrying the bag on my shoulder), but thankfully my principal was coming back to school around the same time, so I was able to hop in the truck.

Saturday morning here was unbelievably peaceful (and by morning, I mean after I woke up at 9:30). Some students were around, studying, watering their crops for agriculture class or picking up books to take home. Several stopped by to ask math questions, but mostly I had the house (and schoolyard) to myself. After my bowl of oatmeal and cup of coffee, I attacked the huge pile of pictures, cards and notes from home and went to work with my ticky-tac (they call it bostick, pronounced bah-stick, here). With the radio cranked to my iPod’s music, I decorated my house while generally rocking out. It was pretty great, singing and dancing around, surrounded by photos of my favorite people. Needless to say, my house is now beautifully decorated, and there are considerably fewer piles of things to hang up.

Saturday after lunch, I ventured down to the next village (about an hour away), where another volunteer stays. Emily had come to my home several weeks before, so it was my turn to visit her. She met me halfway and showed me around the village, introducing me to some of her host mother’s friends (who wouldn’t let us leave without a very generous bag of delicious peaches). Emily has one of the most beautiful gardens and was gracious enough to give me a huge, fresh cucumber.

One of the best parts of meeting up with other volunteers is the inevitable exchange of goods. Maybe my house has fresh peaches, and your garden has a huge tomato crop. Naturally, we’ll exchange some; it just seems to go without saying. Books are also frequently exchanged, thanks to the Peace Corps Training Center’s nice library of donated books from past volunteers. You never have to worry about getting the book back to Maseru, just to another home where it will also be loved. Currently, I’m working on Al Franken’s Lies and the Lying Liars Who Tell Them. Only after I returned home later Saturday did I realize how appropriate this book was for me. Al Franken is, after all, my senator. The book is quite a hoot. Maybe its just how long I’ve been removed from the crazy American political stuff, but some of the statements he makes are pretty bold (even if there is truth in them)… In any case, its an enjoyable read, and has definitely added variety to my life as of late.

I arrived home after hanging out in Ha Thoahlane to find the cat sitting on my stoop, waiting for me to unlock my door. At this point, I suppose I should mention that on Thursday of last week (February the 25th), one of the teachers from school took the cat, in a big flour sack, to her village, about a 50 minute walk from school… how the cat made its way back to school is beyond me, but the song “The Cat Came Back” has been in my head ever since. Who knows if/when she’ll take him away again, but I want to believe he’s learning that I don’t want him in my house.

Sunday was also pretty relaxed. Try as I might, I couldn’t drag myself out of bed until 9:30 again. Oh well. Sunday was spent marking all the exams from the previous week, and there were a lot. It seems the physics exam I wrote for my Form A students was much too difficult and the math exam was too long, but I think the physics for Form B’s was actually pretty reasonable. This doesn’t mean they did well by any stretch of the imagination (I’m pretty sure the majority still failed with flying colors), but at least I got one about right. The tricky part was making sure my questions are at about the same level as their English reading comprehension.

After marking though, I felt like I could have hosted an episode of “Kids Write the Darnedest Things” … On my Form A physics exam, I asked questions pertaining to energy: different sources, renewable and non-renewable, etc. I asked them to explain the difference between renewable and non-renewable, and the best answer was “Renewable are made by God.” I guess this sort of makes sense? Wind, water, solar, geothermal… they’re all very elemental. But if they want to think about it that way, technically, shouldn’t they believe that everything is made by God? (I won’t get into a religious discussion now…) I also asked them to identify certain kinds of energy. Energy of motion? Rather than calling it kinetic, the student wrote, “is important.” How could I fault him when he’s absolutely correct, it is important! My favorite though, had to be the question “What kind of energy is it when: a woman collects wood and cow dung to burn, in order to cook her papa” The next two words were “and cabbage.” Man, that student knows how things work in this country! If a woman is going to collect wood to burn to cook papa, she might as well be cooking cabbage too!

Some students also wrote very nice notes, thanking me for teaching them, or saying how much better they understand when I teach them. I’m really not sure how much of it is true, but it’s all very flattering, and I hope I am indeed explaining things clearly.

This school week has been a bit of a struggle. First of all, I’m “on duty” this week, which means I have to be up (and outside) by 7am in order to close the gate. This distinguishes the students who were on time from those who were late. Any student who arrives after the gate has been closed is punished. I’m “on duty” with another teacher, a younger woman who lives in the village, not too far from school. ‘M’e Puleng is kind of like a cross between a crazy aunt and a best friend who can’t keep quiet because she always has something witty to say. I wasn’t dreading being “on duty” too much since she had expressed to me earlier last week that she also didn’t like beating students.

Well, on Monday, there were so many students who were late that she couldn’t think of any alternative punishment, so she hit them all. Needless to say, it was a really tough way to start out my week, especially knowing that there were four more days of this. All I could do was make my breakfast and try to convince myself that the next day there would not be as many latecomers. Thankfully, there were not as many on Tuesday. In fact, ‘M’e Puleng was also late. As students came running in before the gate closed, I saw her coming too, jogging in her skirt and heels (passed by quite a few students on the way). Tuesday’s punishment was to clean up the school grounds, picking up trash the students have scattered throughout the day. I was much happier with this punishment. Wednesday, there were even fewer latecomers, and this time, they got to run laps around the soccer field. There were some boys who pretended to limp so they wouldn’t have to… only their “limps” were so comically fake that I couldn’t even look at them with a straight face. I told them that if I ran a lap faster than they did, they would get to run five more. That shut them up, and they took off. It’s now Thursday. To the best of my knowledge, there hasn’t been any more beating. In fact, in one of my classes, the students were joking around with one of the sticks used by a teacher. I asked what it was, what they were doing with it, and if I could see it. They quieted down and handed it over. I took it and snapped it into two pieces over my knee. Believe me, it was the most satisfying part of my day, seeing the looks on their faces as I hurled the pieces out the window and over the fence.

Most of my lesson planning early in the week was pretty easy; I was just handing back exams and either assigning corrections or explaining the questions and what I had wanted for responses. Most of my students have not been very quiet during class. As much as I hate to threaten or punish, I did threaten to make one student run laps around the soccer field if he kept talking. That shut him up for a while, but ultimately I had to pull out the big guns. “Do you all know that the single subject that your fellow students fail the most on their J.C. and C.O.S.C. exams is mathematics? Why do you think that is? I bet it’s because they didn’t listen in class when they should have been paying attention! Do you want to fail like them? Or do you want to pass and succeed?” (Insert dramatic pauses wherever necessary, I assure you, the room was silent) The next lesson went much better with that class, but again today, they were frustrating.

In other news, I changed my hairstyle: I shaved my head! It’s pretty great, though it took a lot of convincing. It’s unbelievably cool, and when I go running, I just use a bandana or hat so my head doesn’t burn to a crisp, and washing it has never been so easy. No, I’m totally kidding, there’s no way I could shave my head… I did get braids put in though, and I think they look pretty sweet (I promise I’ll put pictures up sometime, I’m just not sure when!). I bought one package of fake hair (because I guess otherwise it doesn’t look like you have any hair?) and the Woodworking teacher (of all people!) happily agreed to give it a try (even though white people hair is so “silky” or “slippery”), saying she braids her daughter’s hair all the time. I guess one package of fake hair wasn’t enough though, so I have a solid two braids going around my head, with sort of a patch in the middle of the back that is still unbraided. When the principal went to town yesterday (Wednesday), he agreed to buy another package of hair so she could finish up the braids, but picked up the wrong kind (surprisingly enough, there are quite a few types of fake hair to braid in), so we’ll continue next week. I think the time total so far is around 3 hours, and I expect it will take at least 2 more to finish up… the color is not my natural color, it’s reddish-brown, but the “brown,” as the package called it, was basically dull black, and I figured I’d look sort of funny with black hair. I opted red-brown.

Last night (Wednesday) was my official welcoming party. Technically, it was also for another teacher who moved to campus and is now staying in one of the teachers’ houses here, but I’ll take credit too. Ever since I baked a pan of brownies, all the teachers had been pestering me to make another cake, so I pulled out the recipe book and found the easiest looking chocolate cake recipe, knowing that ingredients can be hard to find (and carry back from Mafeteng, see earlier in this post for details!). Well, I got plenty of ingredients and decided to double the recipe. One of the other teachers had begged me earlier to let her help me with the cake so she could then make one for her family whenever she goes home next. I was happy to have help, and before long we had all the delicious chocolate batter ready for baking. I am proud to say that the bigger of the two cakes we made in my Dutch oven (look Ma, no oven!), and it turned out amazing. The smaller one went into a real gas oven (luxury item!) that one of the other teachers has (but doesn’t use, I assure you), and turned out just as well. The cake was a hit.

The main draw to this party though, was the cow that was slaughtered. No, I’m joking again, but there was so much meat. And yes, I am still a vegetarian. There were nine of us total: (including myself) eight teachers, plus Emily (my next closest volunteer, and a fellow health-nut vegetarian… we get along well). I kid you not, for seven people, there were eight (8, yes 8!) kilograms of meat. Let me say that again, so you can think about the quarter-pounder burger that probably fills you up. There was more than a kilogram of meat for every meat-eating person. Wow. I mean, I’m sure the whole novelty thing factors in, but good gracious, a kilo of meat?!

The women worked on the chakalaka, a delicious blend of shredded and cooked (with lots of oil!) onion, carrot, cabbage, mixed with some other veggies and almost a mango chutney type thing, plus some beans, plus lots of spices and chili sauce. Really greasy, really good. Even better the next morning with scrambled eggs and toast. My mouth is watering even now, and I just ate some.

The men worked on the meat. It took a long time. The fire-pit was probably about 3 feet by 3 feet, and even if we built up a good fire to actually cook the meat, the meat-master would dump water on the fire so the chicken and sausages wouldn’t burn. I can understand not wanting them to burn, but the smoke was pretty terrible, and it took forever to cook 4kg chicken and 4kg sausages on nothing but smoldering ash. It didn’t matter though, we were all pretty content just hanging out around the fire. I bopped back and forth between the women inside and the men outside; I guess I just break the social norms like that.

The whole party was pretty great. We didn’t eat until almost 9pm and stayed up until midnight (you need to understand that this is really late here, especially for me), just chatting about anything: politics in South Africa, Peace Corps, teaching, dancing, food…all sorts of things. It really made me realize how lucky I am to be at this school. Some of my friends are at schools where they’re a little less than comfortable hanging out with the other teachers, but I wouldn’t trade mine for the world. Sure there are one or two who I’m less comfortable around, or who I don’t know as well, but in general, they’re pretty great.

One of the great discoveries this week (on the part of my colleagues) was my ability to type copious amounts of words in ridiculously little time. This meant that anytime there was anything to be typed, guess who got the call. I typed assignments for some workshops they’re attending, several application letters to various employers, as well as parts of a Sesotho exam. They were astonished that I could even type a foreign language quickly. Naturally, I’m happy to help out, and truly, I like typing, but today it started getting a little old. “’M’e Katie, couldn’t you help me type this? I just want to give Ntate Kolobe the schedule for my workshops…” “’M’e Katie, I just realized there are some few mistakes in this paper, can we fix them?” Now, fixing mistakes in a paper is something I completely support, but I don’t have any sort of control over the generator or when it is used. This means I either have to use my precious laptop battery, or tell them that I’ll help when the generator is on. This presents a problem. For example, several times this week, they’ve turned the generator on when I’ve been away on a run. Naturally, I can’t type if I’m running in the next village, and chances are good I won’t want to rush into that warm, crowded, noisy room and type immediately after I get back from a run. I probably should learn to say no, but it’s so much fun impressing them with my typing skills! It’s been draining though, trying to balance being “on duty” with regular teaching, and on top of that all this typing business. I wonder what would happen if I started charging them a per page fee…

This weekend is the “Newbie Party” in Mafeteng, which means all the volunteers who serve in the Mafeteng district will head into town to cook and hang out together. I think Italian food is on the menu, which means a big pasta dish, fresh garden salad, sangria (which is technically Spanish, I think, isn’t it?) and gelato. Ha! Gelato, yeah right. The ice cream here is a pretty sorry excuse for ice cream; gelato would likely be a huge letdown. Dessert is TBA, though the remaining chocolate cake (of the two I made yesterday) is definitely one part. In any case, it’ll be fun. I’m definitely looking forward to seeing everyone and having an excuse to cook an elaborate dinner. It’s also a really nice way to decompress and share experiences. Somehow things don’t seem so crazy if I know someone else is going through the same thing.

Well, my battery is at 25% which means I should probably shut ‘er down till the next time the generator is run…

All my love from Africa,

-Katie

24 February 2010

It’s always hard going back to work after an enjoyable weekend, and this week was no exception. Somehow I missed the fact that Shoprite closes at 1pm on Sundays, so when I got there at 1:30, I had to find another place to shop. Unfortunately, this meant that I would not have my precious kilogram of popcorn kernels for the week… Big time bad news. It also meant I had to compromise on the raisins I bought, and that I wouldn’t get the Gala apples that I recently found (and like so much more than the other kinds). I make it seem like a big deal, but I managed just fine.

On Sunday evening, I remembered that this week is when we give the first set of monthly exams, which means I had three different exams to write, two physics and one math. It also meant that if I wanted to discourage cheating (and I do), I would have to write multiple versions of each, and be sneaky about how I give them to students. I’ve already given the Form B physics exam (and am not looking forward to marking them for fear of what I may find), and will give one of the Form A math and one physics tomorrow, the other two on Friday. Lucky me! My weekend will be grading, grading and more grading.

Grading will definitely be interesting though, because when the Form B students finished their exams, many were writing me stories or letters, or drawing pictures. Some looked pretty interesting, so I have that to look forward to. I will definitely post some of what they write me if it’s noteworthy!

It is nice though, because whenever a teacher needs an exam typed or printed or copied, the generator goes on. I’ve been bringing my laptop with me to the staffroom each day and as soon as I hear the engine start up, I dash over to plug it in. I managed to type (both variations of) two of my three exams, as well as add and sort music, photos and movies to my computer… and here I am now!

Monday was the day we had no water. The taps in my home were not running, which is (unfortunately) fairly common, but we also had none at any of the school taps. In the evening on Monday, the teachers turned the generator on several times to try to draw water from the borehole, and finally around 8pm there was a little. It’s really a scary feeling to not have any water in the house. I had some in my water filter that I could drink, but to think that after that was gone, I would have none? It’s really a feeling of complete helplessness that we don’t know in America. In the States, with the flush of one toilet, we use more than most of these Basotho see in the course of an entire day, let alone what they drink in a week. In a nice long shower, we use probably more than they’ll see in a week. It’s amazing. (On the bright side, it’s a great excuse not to bathe or wash my dishes!)

Some of my students have been rather difficult lately; I’m teaching things they’ve already seen, so, in their minds, there’s no reason for them to pay attention. So they don’t. Monday was frustrating. After a dinner that did not involve popcorn, Mercy and Henry (the Kenyans from the clinic) stopped by to walk ‘M’e Mamosala home from a visit, and greeted me warmly with hugs and fresh peaches! Mercy’s tree, untouched by students’ hungry paws, has been producing fruit like there is no tomorrow, so she brought me a shopping bag full to the brim of peaches and apricots. As we were talking, she invited Mamosala and me to come over the following day (Tuesday) to help her and Henry try to preserve some of these peaches.

It’s amazing how much more I enjoy life when I know I have something to look forward to. All of Tuesday was so much easier knowing that I would go for a visit in the afternoon, drink tea (with lots of cream and sugar), and talk about life with them. The fact that we would also be up to our elbows in fruit made it all the sweeter. I was reminded of all the times I’ve picked berries and made strawberry jam with my wonderful grandmother, or the times my mom, sisters and I have braved raspberry jam using our own crop. I was having a blast getting all the little bits off the peach pit with nicely geometric shapes. Unfortunately, appearance seems to matter when you are canning sliced peaches, so my artistic cutting methods weren’t appreciated.

Tuesday definitely made up for what Monday lacked. Not only did I get to help jar peaches, some of the older students (Form C) approached me for help with their math homework. I was happy to help, especially since their teacher had been at home for lunch. To my relief, it didn’t require much reading on my part; I could just help them right away. After I explained several concepts to them, they were so happy, they asked if I would come to their class. I said I couldn’t, that they already had a teacher, but that I’m always happy to help if I’m around. One of the other teachers in the staff room later told me that those students had been saying (in Sesotho) that I should be their teacher. What an honor! After school, they came to my desk to ask if I would meet them in the library and explain these concepts once again, this time to a bigger group. I agreed and this time there was a group of maybe ten girls, working on the same problems. They seemed incredibly appreciative and like they really did understand what I was showing them.

I went for a run feeling very pleased with myself, and as I was taking a bath (finally!) afterwards, there were several knocks on my door… once I had clothes on, I found several more students outside who had also come to ask for help. Hopefully it won’t become an every day sort of thing (I’m going to be busy with all sorts of activities as they start up), but I’m happy to help explain concepts to them whenever I can. It made me feel productive as a teacher, and was really nice to be explaining things other than adding and subtracting decimals, or multiplying by ten. They were also very thankful, which is always nice to hear as a teacher; not that my students aren’t, they just have a different way of showing it.

During one of my classes this week, I mentioned that I had a friend who teaches in Quting. In Sesotho, the “Q” is a click, and is pretty challenging to say (you try it!). I guess I pronounced it incorrectly, or at least differently from the way they would say it. Most of my class busted up laughing. I was a little confused, since I had pronounced it pretty well, in my opinion. Maybe it was the way I raised my eyebrows, bugged my eyes out, or stuck my head forward like a chicken when I pronounced it, but whenever I said it, trying to convince them I knew how to click, they just laughed harder. One girl who is usually pretty quiet said, “Madam, say qomoqomo!” I still have no idea what qomoqomo is, but she said I pronounced that correctly. The best part of all this was that every student was laughing, not just those who were in on the joke. This meant that even the quiet guys in the back who always appear to not give a flying hoot about my teaching were in hysterics, practically crying because I couldn’t say a word correctly. It was heart-warming to see, and really lifted my spirits that day.

The rest of the week looks pretty tame, but I need a relaxing weekend to catch up on my life and maybe start planning for our Spring Break (even though technically, I guess Easter happens here in the fall season?) … Tomorrow (Thursday), one of the other teachers at school has agreed to start braiding my hair. I’m not sure what this will entail, or how long it will take, but I do have some dark reddish tinted fake hair for her to braid in, otherwise I guess the braids aren’t very thick (even though I have a ton of hair). She’ll finish hopefully on Friday morning so I can have the weekend with a completed head of braided hair instead of only half-done.

On Thursday, I’ll also go again to the clinic to visit Mercy and Henry. ‘M’e Mamosala and I will each contribute a dish to a sort of international potluck… I’m especially looking forward to the Kenyan food. I’ve agreed to make a sort of peach crisp with some of the other peaches from their trees. If it turns out anything like my apple crisps, it’ll be delicious, and I know they’ll appreciate it, no matter what.

Well, my time to run today is dwindling. School is almost out and the weather looks pretty threatening; hopefully the rain will wait until I’ve returned. Know that I am content here, and feeling good mentally, emotionally and physically. Knock on wood, I haven’t gotten sick since I’ve been here. I miss the States terribly, but really feel that I am in the right place for now…

All my love from Africa

-Katie

18 Feb 2010 First of all, I’ve received several emails asking about sharing this site -- please feel free to pass this blog on to anyone who may be interested. I’m happy to share my experiences with all who care to read about them! It’s been a crazy week. Monday and Tuesday I was frantically scrambling to get all the Peace Corps homework finished (writing about my meeting community members, as well as what I’ve learned about transportation, shopping, etc) so I could bring it with me on Wednesday when I went to Maseru for the H1N1 vaccination. I had planned to go and come back to Sekameng in the same day, understanding that taxis can be pretty unreliable here. I figured I would leave when I finished classes around 1, walk to the junction, catch a bus to Maseru and arrive there in plenty of time. When I shared this plan with the other teachers, they insisted I go earlier. “Leave at 11 when the rest of us go to Church, and be sure to come home plenty early because once it gets dark, things are not safe.” They didn’t have to tell me twice. Though I was a little disappointed to be missing Ash Wednesday, I walked past the Church and saw people waiting around. Knowing Lesotho, it wouldn’t start for another hour, and even then the service was bound to last for at least an hour and a half. I set off to the junction, incredibly pleased with myself for choosing the right day to journey to Maseru. I reached the junction around noon and waited as several private vehicles and several taxis passed, none going to Maseru. Finally, around 12:30, one stopped with a sign in the window for Maseru. It had a grand total of two other passengers, so I figured business was just slow. Along the way, we picked up a couple more women, and I thought we were just making a routine stop when the driver and conductor hopped out and bolted into the shop across the street. The older women also got out, hopped into the back of a pickup truck and were off along some other road while one woman and I waited for nearly an hour for the driver and conductor to eat, smoke, digest and excrete food. I was absolutely furious but naturally, there’s nothing that I could have done. Lucky for me, I had a book because boy, did I read. The two men emerged from the shop (and latrine) looking rather pleased with themselves, and lazily sauntered over to the car. A few more greetings and we were finally on the way again. He drove for only half an hour (very slowly, mind you) before stopping again. This time, the conductor had to come back to the car to turn the engine off so he and the driver could socialize with anyone and everyone they found. I’m not sure how long we waited there, but I was starting to worry that Dr. J might not even be in the office by the time I reached Maseru. After a while, we were on our way, yet again, and not too much later, we turned down the most random dirt road, honking and trying to gather customers for them. It was all I could do to bite my tongue, breathe deeply and roll my eyes. All in all, it took almost five hours to travel a relatively short distance that should have only taken an hour and a half, tops. I made it to Maseru, got my shot, spent some time on the internet, charged my computer (hence this post – hooray for electricity!) and was on my way again. Unfortunately, time was really not on my side. I reached the taxi for Kolo just after the previous one had left, which meant I would have to wait for it to fill up before we would leave. By this time, it was after 6 in the evening, and it does start to get dark here around then (sunset is usually at 7 and it’s generally dark-dark by 8:30). I sent a text to my principal, warning him that I was on a taxi but probably wouldn’t make it home before dark, so could he please meet me where the taxi would let me off? He responded with a phone call to let me know he was actually on his way to Maseru. Drat! How would I make it from the junction home? It’s a minimum of a 45 minute walk (in broad daylight and good conditions) and there are absolutely no lights anywhere to guide the way. He told me he would try to work something out and let me know, meanwhile I should wait on the taxi and hope it fills quickly. Maybe fifteen minutes later, he called back and instructed me to get off the taxi (not a very common thing to do here, the driver wasn’t too pleased with me) and wait, and that his wife would come and pick me up. My first thought was “how in the world will she recognize me?!” but I remembered I stick out like a sore thumb in this place, so I thanked him profusely and hung up. Sure enough, moments later, ‘M’e Kolobe was introducing herself and shaking my hand, walking me back to her vehicle. She said we would be meeting up with Ntate Kolobe somewhere along the way and he would bring me back to Sekameng. Wow. I felt absolutely terrible at the prospect of making him drive so much, especially at night, and especially when I know how rarely he sees his family (only on the weekends!). They both assured me it was no problem; the taxi rank in Maseru is hard to anticipate and that public transport here is notoriously terrible in general, but I still felt pretty bad. We had a nice chat on the way and finally arrived back to Sekameng around 9 in complete darkness. It’s absolutely fascinating driving in this country at night because you can tell where there is electricity and where there is none. In villages that have electricity, lights are on in homes and shops, but where there is none, you can barely tell where the houses are. If you look closely, you can see the faint glow of candles or paraffin lamps, but there’s really not much more than that to indicate any sort of civilization… Oh, and the stars are incredible, especially when there’s only a little sliver of a moon. Major thanks go to Ntate Kolobe and his family for putting up with me and my naive assumption that I could master the Maseru taxi rank, and for making sure I made it home safely. Looks like I have a really delicious cake to bake. Today (Thursday) has been pretty tame. I’ve just been sleeping and reading and running and teaching and looking forward to the weekend! All my love from Africa, -Katie

16 February 2010

What a great weekend! On Friday, the packages from home (finally!) arrived, carrying Christmas presents as well as my old cell phone from home and a flash-drive with plenty of new music (thank you so so much, everyone!). I have yet to make the phone actually work with the Lesotho SIM Card, but I have faith in Vodacom, so I’m sure things will work out.

Saturday was very hot but I made it home in the late afternoon, made some early dinner and began reading a new book: They Poured Fire On Us From The Sky. It is an autobiographical account of several of the “lost boys” from Sudan and so far is very captivating. It’s an easy read – I definitely recommend it!

As I was beginning to drift off, I heard some odd noises coming from inside my kitchen. I was pretty baffled; they didn’t sound like the mouse noises from several weeks ago. I knew my door was locked, so it couldn’t be anything too dangerous. Not even two seconds later, there was a bat, flying in circles around my bedroom. Thank goodness I had put the mosquito netting up last week! There was no way I was going to get up to try to deal with it, so I blew out the lamp, put my book down and went to sleep.

When I woke up on Sunday around 7:30, there was no sign of the bat (no surprise; they’re nocturnal after all), so I went back to sleep for several hours, postponing my run until later. When I finally got up to run, I wasn’t quite sure whether or not I’d make it to church (I had told ‘M’e Motselisi I would go again since there were visitors there from Germany, she told me), so I took off towards the road and figured I would go late (Basotho time). I had been running for maybe 15 minutes when I saw a huge caravan of vans and trucks coming down our (absolutely terrible) road. This was puzzling, since usually there are not that many vehicles, and the funeral (a village over) was long done. I was too far away to see who was actually in any of the vehicles, but I’m sure they saw me and thought me strange, just like every other Basotho.

After my run, as I was coming back towards the school, one of my students approached me and told me I should go to Church (now there’s a guilt trip for ya!) … so I hurried home (still sweating and panting) to change clothes and head back to church. ‘M’e Motselisi saw me leaving the school for church and we sat by each other. To my surprise, there were a dozen other non-Basotho sitting along the front of the church: the Germans. Service was nice again, lots of music and dancing, and with many churches visiting, we raised a huge offering. At the end of service, it was announced that the leaders of the various churches would meet with the visitors to discuss certain matters, so they should all process out first. Imagine my surprise when the Germans turned out to be Americans, from Washington state! They were visiting Lesotho for about a week in partnership with the World Vision Organization. I snuck out at the end to chat more with them… wonderful people. They invited me to lunch with them after the “quick” meeting, which, in true Basotho fashion, lasted almost two hours. They were each presented with a beautiful Basotho blanket and we made our way to the next room where the catered lunch awaited us. It was probably the best lunch I’ve had in a long time, since I’ve been eating the school lunches! We chatted for a while about what they were doing here and what I’m doing here before they were ushered along to the next village meeting.

To any of you friendly Washington-World-Vision-friends that might be reading this: thank you so much for your warmth and interest. I greatly appreciate that lunch and hope you had a great (and very safe) trip back to the States! Don’t hesitate to email or write!

I found my way home and hung out with Emily, a CHED (Community Health & Economic Development) volunteer who lives one village over for a while. She brought me basil and swiss chard seeds, so whenever the students actually show up to help me with my garden plot, I’ll be ready! I’m excited to have fresh vegetables (much cheaper than those from town) and especially the basil! I’ll be able to make pesto after all!

The rest of Sunday was a bit of a scramble as I had done no lesson planning all weekend, I still had to bathe and I had lots of clothes to wash (did I mention how much a laundry machine would come in handy?!). Amazingly enough, I got it all done, and washed dishes on top of it.

Sunday night, a huge storm rolled through Sekameng. There was some crazy wind and lightning that truly lit up the entire sky. I’m not scared of the storms, I really do like them, but sometimes the lightning can get really intense. I’ve heard that a student last year actually died when he was struck by lightning, so I have a healthy respect for it.

Sunday night, my visitor also came back. Yep, the bat. I was just sitting at my table with the lamp lit, working on my physics lesson for Monday when there was a flapping and the bat was flying around above my head. Yikes! It’s not so much that I fear the bat, I just don’t like the idea of being bit and the whole rabies procedure… yes, I’ve had vaccinations, but apparently I would still have to get more shots… no thank you.

I wasn’t sure what to do. I had no net with which to catch the visitor, so I opened my door and burglar bars (keep in mind it’s late, pitch dark and stormy – rain is coming into my house even under the porch) and tried to shoo it out. No luck. Instead, it climbed back into the ceiling where it had been. Alright, fine, I closed and locked my doors and went back to lesson-planning. Moments later, it came back for more. I opened both doors again, hoping it would sense the wide openness of outside, but no luck. Instead, a furry, wet critter brushed up against my leg and I absolutely screamed. The cat had come in, seeking shelter from the storm, and thought I was bent down to give it attention. Ha, not quite.

At this point, I decided to call it a night and wake up early to finish my lesson-planning the next morning. I ducked my head, dashed into my room and read for a while until I was sleepy enough to actually doze off. Wow, it’s an adventure here.

Yesterday (Monday) was fine, I finished my lesson-planning and taught all my crazy lessons. At the end of the school day, I was all ready to run but five minutes into my run, there was an absolute downpour, so I retreated to the staff room. This storm was complete with more massive lightning (that struck pretty close to the school in my estimation) and even some hail. Let me tell you, there is no noise quite like hailstones pummeling an uninsulated tin roof. It. Was. Loud.

The bat made no appearance last night, though I did go to bed relatively early…

Today was fine and good until after school, after my run (in the rain! it was glorious!), when I came back to find other teachers beating students for speaking Sesotho when they are supposed to be speaking English. This, five weeks in, was the first time I have actually witnessed the corporal punishment. There were several teachers all standing around a group of students. One by one, the students came forward and held out their hands as one of the teachers wound up and struck them on the hands five or more times with a long stick.

I don’t even know what to say about it. I knew it was here, and I’ve seen the sticks each teacher uses, but to actually witness it is something completely different. How a teacher can strike a student and think it is the right thing to do, or the only way to punish a child, is absolutely unbelievable to me, and it makes me so sad in my heart. If anything, it acts as incentive to find (and successfully employ) better methods of disciplining my students, for I could never, ever hit a child.

Tomorrow is Wednesday and after classes, I will go to Maseru for my H1N1 vaccination. It will be the first time in Maseru in over a month, and, honestly, I’m not really that excited. It’s almost too big and too much to handle. Plus, traveling with public transport is usually somewhat of a hassle. Who knows when the taxi will come and how full it will be or how loud the speakers will be… I guess that just reiterates how much this place is beginning to feel like home, a very reassuring thought.

I can’t think of much else to say. Life continues with its highs and lows, and for the most part, I’m really enjoying it. Teaching presents plenty of challenges, from explaining a basic concept to patience as the whole class watches a wasp fly in the window and around the room, shrieking in alarm until it leaves us in peace. Most of my students are fantastic, and I am continuing to learn names (though it is pretty hard). Water shortages are definitely a problem, but I’m lucky to have several buckets stored up. Plus, whenever we use the generator, I can charge my computer! There’s a silver lining to most things, and I’m learning to be optimistic enough to see it.

All my love from Africa,

-Katie

11 Feb 2010

I’ve officially been at my site (Sekameng Diocesan High School) for (over) a month now. I’ve learned the names of all of the other teachers, some (okay, a few) of my students, and I know where I can buy all the essentials like a head of cabbage or some airtime for my phone.

I’ve been in Lesotho for three months (today, on the 12th), which means, if my term is to be 27 months (an overestimate in my opinion), I am one ninth of the way done. But who is counting?!

Last weekend we found out about World Cup tickets – I’m fairly certain our group has tickets to seven different games, so we’ll need to choose which one(s) we actually want to see. Volunteer’s budget doesn’t accommodate expensive taste in soccer matches!

This week was a blur, a very uncomfortably hot blur.

Monday began the final new official time-table. My Mondays are still loaded; I teach 6 of the 9 total classes and see all my students, but all my teaching hours are much more efficiently blocked together, so I don’t feel as though I’m wasting as much time just waiting as before. After school study officially began, as did before-school study. This means the students come at 7am, study (aka sit in their classroom and do what they want) until 7:40. Assembly begins at 7:45 and then classes commence around 8. The day ends at 3:20 and after a ten-minute break, students sit in their classrooms again until 4:30. I believe these two study times are meant to encourage students to look over their notes, which would actually benefit them quite a bit. The notes they take in class are strictly copying down whatever the teacher writes on the board. While vigorously taking these notes, they seem to zone out everything the teacher is saying or doing, so there is not too much retention.

I gave a physics quiz on Monday, and was absolutely appalled at the amount of cheating. It is shameless. There was a pair of students, sitting at the same desk, and one had finished her exam early, clearly knew what was going on, and had written her answers on another piece of “scratch” paper (yeah, right!) and passed it to her neighbor who was struggling with her quiz. Unfortunately for both of them, the smarter one forgot she had written her name on that scratch paper, so when I went to collect the exam from the copier, she had a piece of paper with a different name on it. The kicker was that I had made two different versions of the quiz, so none of the answers matched up at all. It really kills me that cheating isn’t a big deal here. I told all my students that I take it very seriously, and in every single class I’ve given a quiz/exam, I’ve caught students red-handed and made a scene of it. I’m still brainstorming things to say to them or have them do so as to minimize copying, but they are definitely crafty.

Also on Monday, students were notified of teachers’ prefect selection, and given the opportunity to elect a head boy and head girl. I’m still not exactly sure what all the responsibilities and benefits are to each position, so I just imagine head students and prefects like in Harry Potter.

On Tuesday, ‘M’e Malitaba from the Office visited, bringing info about taxes, my partner class in the States (with whom I’ll be corresponding regularly, I hope), and a letter from my grandma (thanks, Gram!). She observed my teaching and then asked questions about how I’m adjusting and if there’s anything I need… I basically told her life is pretty good!

I cooked dinner for my counterpart on Wednesday: a hearty soup with split peas, lentils, barley, carrots, onions, some other things and lots of spices. I baked a loaf of garlic and Italian herb bread, and for dessert we had apple crisp. I was pretty pleased with myself for how it all turned out, and the best part was leftover apple crisp on Thursday morning for breakfast! (Last weekend I happened upon Gala apples in the grocery store and bought a huge bag… they’re basically gone).

With the new time-table, my Thursday mornings are very laid back – I don’t start teaching until 11am! I slept in and went for a run, took a bath and cleaned dishes, all before I had to be at school! We had a department meeting to discuss fund-raising and participation in the nation’s science club organization… I’m hoping to help in the math-related areas of science club once that gets started. I also volunteered to help with the poultry project! Sekameng will order around 200 chickens (yes, two hundred) to live in our poultry room (I wouldn’t exactly call it a chicken coop). We then sell the eggs to teachers, students or villagers, and the profits go towards keeping school fees for students reasonable. It’s my job to make sure these chickens get fed and watered (though by someone else), and that the eggs are collected. Then either I or someone else have to count and keep track of how many eggs we get each day, and how many we sell. I have a feeling I’m going to be eating a lot of eggs in the near future… We also have a “piggery” where there will soon be piglets (and piglets are so cute!), and I understand our school will sell those too.

The agriculture classes have been planting up a storm: cabbage, beets, green beans and maybe some onions too… those vegetables will also be sold, some to our kitchen for lunches, and some to villagers.

On Fridays, I only have two classes. One is first thing in the morning; the other is not until 11:40. With that long of a break, I usually try to run to a nearby village and back. Around that time in the morning, there is typically a large group of bo’m’e (women) that gathers near the road to try to even it out (the roads near Sekameng and Ha Thoahlane, the other village, are really terrible and whenever it rains, they become a little more uneven). The work they are doing is harder than the work I see many of the men here doing, and it is truly artistic. The small sections of road they’ve already reconstructed are simply beautiful. They always cheer and clap and Basotho-yell for me and sometimes pretend as though they are going to run with me. Though my Sesotho is still minimal, we can carry on small conversation, and they know some English. Seeing them has become one of those things that always brightens my day, no matter what.

The weekends always bring traveling – this time to Dustin’s rondavel. He is the only one in Mafeteng from our training group to not have a house, and this is the first weekend we’ll be hanging out somewhere with a latrine rather than a toilet – could be interesting! Its always really nice to see other Peace Corps Volunteers, to share stories and to cook delicious food. So far we’ve done Mexican night, stirfry night, pizza night… I’m not sure if the menu is set for tomorrow or not, but there was talk of vegetable curry and naan bread… Yum.

WOW – Sunday marks the middle of February already!

As much as St. Valentine’s Day is a Hall-Mark Holiday, I still believe it’s important to show love every day of the year, so to all my family and friends who are reading this, know that I am thankful for you in my life and I love you all so very much. Thanks for your continued support and love; I wouldn’t be here without you!

All my love from Africa,

-Katie

January 30, 2010Greetings!I had a pretty good second week of school, though there was much less teaching than I had expected. Turns out when it rains too hard, we don't teach. When there is something going on, we don't teach. Basically, teaching is... well, secondary? to a lot of these people? It's been frustrating, but I'm still trying to learn my surroundings.My Wednesday was very interesting... After the students' assembly in the morning, the principal went to the podium and told all of the students who were not wearing the correct uniform to go home and change. Within moments, half of the school (if not more) had walked back out through the gates to change their clothes. Ridiculous. I was pretty upset as I had just lost half of my first period class. I cooled down just fine and taught a good lesson, and then with three hours of free time, I had a lovely run.On Wednesday evening, my counterpart (Abiola) and I played soccer with some of the guys from the community. African soccer is something else. It's so much about control, so the field we used was incredibly small, not to mention rocky, uneven and not very grassy. I was winded after moments, and thankful when Abiola gracefully bowed out and invited me to dinner. It was very nice to chat with him about school, America and life in general.Thursday morning brought news of the External Examination results from last year, and cause for huge celebration -- all of the students from last year passed, and one achieved one of the top ten positions in the nation! So Thursday we had no school. The day was meant initially to celebrate one teacher leaving Sekameng, but it turned into a combined celebration of exam results and Ntate Khaile's career. There was a very nice ceremony with speeches, poems and even some dances by students, teachers and the principal... followed, of course, by a feast.Thursday evening, as I was coming back from my run, several children came sprinting out of their house to run with me. We ran up and down the road a little bit, and eventually stopped (I was exhausted). I dashed into my house, grabbed crayons and paper, and soon the crowd had grown to almost a dozen little kids, all writing their names and surnames, and cute little sentences about themselves; "My name is Thabo. My surname is Khalele. I am a boy." Very, very cute. I know at least four of their names, though they all expect me to know their names since they know mine.It was hard to get the focus back on Friday morning, since Thursday had essentially been a free-for-all, but my students did pretty well. My last class of the day was cancelled because all of the teachers had to go pay a visit to one of the women who cooks for the school, who lost a son. This was one of the most difficult things I have experienced here so far. We arrived at her home, were let in by her daughter or other family member, sister perhaps? And ushered into a smallish room where 'M'e Maalina was laying on a bed, covered in heaps of blankets, and absolutely weeping. She did not speak much, and I couldn't understand all of what her sister and the principal were saying (as it was all in Sesotho), but there was a lot of "We're sorry, very much 'M'e." Not the most positive way to end my day, and I'm not sure about all the mourning/funeral traditions here (yet) but I'll pass that along once I get the chance.For now, it's time to grocery shop and head back to my school. We had a great sleepover at Melissa's (who lives in the camptown with electricity and running water!) but I should get home to get some actual sleep (sleepovers don't really change as we age).Happy almost February... All my love from Africa!

(From January 26, 2010) The secretary of education was supposed to be coming to our school today, to check on something, though I’m not sure what. True to Basotho time, he/she was supposed to come at 7:30am (which I found out at 7:29am) and we were all supposed to be awaiting his/her arrival. Needless to say, it is past 9am now, and we have no visitor. I should also mention, however, that the weather has not been very conducive to travel in any way, shape or form. It has rained so much recently, I really am surprised we’re not swimming. The past few days we’ve had a thunderstorm in the early morning changing into decent rain until school starts up around 7:15 or so. Then in the afternoon, the thunder and lightning come back… yesterday it was towards the end of lunch. I put on my rain coat and left my house to go back to the staff room, gather my materials and go to my afternoon lesson: a double block of mathematics with the A students. I made it back to the staffroom in my jacket and started getting ready when the rain came even harder. I figured, “Oh, what the heck, the kids have to learn, I’ll suck it up and get wet, no big deal.” After all, this is Africa. The other teachers would not let me out the door. “M’e Katie, you should just wait. I have a class now too but it is too much raining to go teach now.” I’ve heard of snow days. I’ve heard of days that are too cold for any living thing to be outside, but rain? Hmm… I didn’t argue too much though, I literally would have been soaked through, even with my 50 foot walk to the classroom; I figured it would pass soon… 40 minutes later, I finally got to the second half of my class and we managed to hear each other over the rain a little bit. Their energy was high, and mine was low (after having already taught 5 lessons that day) and so at first things were a little stressful. After I finished lecturing and they were working on practice problems, the real magic happened. I got some of those precious teacher moments, when you can totally and completely see the light go on for the student. It made the whole school day worthwhile, and was the best possible note to end on. (Then, needless to say, I got drenched on my way back to the staff room and even moreso on my way home, but it was so worth it.) Thanks to the rain, I couldn’t run. Sad day. I’ve been absolutely terrible about running or training for this half-marathon. I guess my biggest consolation is that it will be in South Africa where (I think) the elevation is considerably lower, so I’ll at least be able to breathe, even if my legs are killing me. Instead of running, I took to decorating. I have finally begun to hang some of my beloved pictures up around my house. I also have numerous magazine clippings from that first week at Sekameng when I was bored out of my mind for so many days. It definitely feels more like home. It looks as though I will finish the photo-hanging this afternoon since the sky is as grey as ever and it has been sprinkling since the morning rain let up. I would venture a guess that the rainy season is upon us. My weekend was pretty lazy. I saw friends on Friday, went to town on Saturday, and basically went to sleep on Saturday evening around 5pm. I woke up several times, only to change location from my couch to my bed or lock my door, but otherwise I slept until 8 the next day. On Sunday, my run brought me to another nearby village where one of the teachers from Sekameng lives, and apparently another PCV too (I still need to get in touch with her and let her know I know where she lives!). It also marks the first time I’ve done laundry all on my own (meaning no washer/dryer/help-from-my-host-mom… no comments from the peanut gallery, thank you very much), and my first bath in five days. Yep, you read that right: five days. Not necessarily a fact I’m proud of as I’ve always been the kind of person who very much enjoys showers (right Mom and Dad?!) … but honestly… well, there is no excuse for me not bathing in so many days. Lucky for me, people here just don’t care. I’m told that once winter really hits, I’ll be going weeks at a time, just washing one limb at a time. Interesting… In any case, it is nice to have clean clothes again (even though I will re-wear mostly the same things I wore last week), and especially clean hair! This week we started on the official timetable, so I have a crazy hectic Monday, not-so-busy Tuesday, and moderately heavy Weds-Fri. Honestly, the teaching makes the time pass so much quicker than sitting in the staffroom listening to the other teachers speaking in Sesotho, but the downtime is nice for processing, writing, lesson-planning and being on my computer when the generator is running (now for example – I’m not using any power of my own battery! Sweet!) So while the generator is turned on, all the other teachers usually come in to charge their phones. Mine has been plugged in for a while now (my ears perk up at the first sound of the engine starting), probably almost complete, and so as they trickle in, they see me on my computer and ask what I’m doing. I just showed two of them photos for almost half an hour! They love to see what my home looks like, as well as what my life has been like in Lesotho so far! I will have to compile a better photo list for them… (which means you should email me small photos and I can show them off… or just print them and send them!) I really like most of the teachers with whom I am working here at Sekameng, but there is one who is especially wonderful. She asked me (within ten minutes of meeting me) if I liked to exercise. I responded in the affirmative, naturally, and she told me she wanted to lose her tummy, which she hates (haha, don’t we all). I hesitantly offered my running company (not thinking she would actually follow through with it) and she enthusiastically accepted. The next day, she came running with me. Every time I have run since then (granted, this is all of twice), she has been tagging along behind, usually quite far behind because she is just getting into shape, but still, even her presence has been very motivational. I think I’ve always known that it is the small things in life that make each day worthwhile, but I’m learning it more and more here. After the first day of teaching, she offered to take me to the big shop, the one that is farther away from campus. I was thrilled and jumped at the chance to mingle more with the other teachers. We had nice conversation on our way over and back, and jokingly agreed to cook for each other sometime. As we were walking back, she mentioned the clinic and her friends there, and I told her I would also like to meet them (part of our assignments for the first few months at site are getting to know everything about your village). The next day after we ran, she said, “Let’s go to the clinic so you can meet my friends.” Talk about follow through! We walked the 10 minutes to the clinic in town and were met at their door with only smiles and warm welcomes. I greeted them in Sesotho and they laughed at me, not your typical response. We began talking and I discovered that they were in fact Kenyans (hence the laughter at my Sesotho), and they have been working here for some years now. ‘M’e Mamosala (the teacher I’m befriending) and I talked with Henry while Mercy bustled about the kitchen, preparing tea, collecting water and doing dishes. She asked how much sugar I took in my tea, and brought over the most delicious (cream and sugar-filled) tea I have tasted in months. Next came a plate boasting a lovely pancake, rolled up with a fork stuck in it. Truthfully, I did not recognize it as a pancake at first, but when she said it was called a pancake, I felt pretty foolish for even asking. It was delicious. Mercy and Henry were truly a breath of fresh air. We talked about everything, from Peace Corps to the village to the country’s political system to political systems around Africa, as well as education here and in the rest of Africa, and differences between Lesotho and South Africa. Wow, I could’ve cried; talking to them made me so happy. The four of us talked well into the darkness of the evening, so around 7:45pm, we began to wrap up our chat. They both gathered their coats and a flashlight to walk us back to Sekameng, assuring me that their door was always open and that they were very pleased to have met me, As we parted, Henry even told me, “I believe that we meet people for a purpose; you have not come into our lives for no reason” (I know it almost sounds cheesy, but it was music to my homesick ears). Henry is also a pastor at a church in Maseru somewhere (still developing at this point), but he assured me services were held in English and they cater primarily to an international community (hey, that’s me!). I will go with them sometime, and I look forward to it. Two nights ago (on Sunday), as I was starting to think about what my dinner would be, ‘M’e Mamosala came by, just to say hello, let me know that she was back from her weekend and inquire about mine. She mentioned that she was going to cook papa and cabbage and I chuckled and said that I was also going to have cabbage, but in a soup. I showed her the recipe, and she said, “Yes, I think we can cook this; it looks quite nice.” Just like that, I had a dinner date. We arranged who would supply what (I offered my cabbage, carrots and spices; she provided onions, tomatoes and papa), and I walked over to cook with her. It turned into quite the dinner party! Mamosala is very social, so anyone who passed her open door was practically trapped into eating something with us, but it was a great time. The next day, I brought the former PCV’s cookbook in to the staffroom and every other (female) teacher there told me she wanted to make copies of it so she could learn to cook better, and “not be so fat.” Last night we finished the soup and added some eggs to the meal. It was very nice, but I think my favorite was teaching her to play solitaire, with a real deck of cards rather than on a computer. Some of the rules escaped her, I think… at one point, we had 10 different piles, because she kept finding kings. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that you could only move a king onto a new pile if that pile is one of the seven and it is empty. I tried to teach her Gin, but she loved the solitaire – I don’t think I’ve ever won so many consecutive rounds! In other news, some friends and I have put in our bids for the World Cup 2010 ticket lottery. We find out early February (and our credit cards are charged). Cross your fingers that one of us gets lucky and will be able to see some great soccer! (Do not worry; I am going regardless, it’s just a matter of whether or not I’ll be in a stadium, or in town somewhere.) Well, it seems a waste to pack the computer up when I have two hours until my next class and the generator is still running, but I think it’s time. Give someone a hug for me! All my love from Africa :)

(From January 26, 2010) The secretary of education was supposed to be coming to our school today, to check on something, though I’m not sure what. True to Basotho time, he/she was supposed to come at 7:30am (which I found out at 7:29am) and we were all supposed to be awaiting his/her arrival. Needless to say, it is past 9am now, and we have no visitor. I should also mention, however, that the weather has not been very conducive to travel in any way, shape or form. It has rained so much recently, I really am surprised we’re not swimming. The past few days we’ve had a thunderstorm in the early morning changing into decent rain until school starts up around 7:15 or so. Then in the afternoon, the thunder and lightning come back… yesterday it was towards the end of lunch. I put on my rain coat and left my house to go back to the staff room, gather my materials and go to my afternoon lesson: a double block of mathematics with the A students. I made it back to the staffroom in my jacket and started getting ready when the rain came even harder. I figured, “Oh, what the heck, the kids have to learn, I’ll suck it up and get wet, no big deal.” After all, this is Africa. The other teachers would not let me out the door. “M’e Katie, you should just wait. I have a class now too but it is too much raining to go teach now.” I’ve heard of snow days. I’ve heard of days that are too cold for any living thing to be outside, but rain? Hmm… I didn’t argue too much though, I literally would have been soaked through, even with my 50 foot walk to the classroom; I figured it would pass soon… 40 minutes later, I finally got to the second half of my class and we managed to hear each other over the rain a little bit. Their energy was high, and mine was low (after having already taught 5 lessons that day) and so at first things were a little stressful. After I finished lecturing and they were working on practice problems, the real magic happened. I got some of those precious teacher moments, when you can totally and completely see the light go on for the student. It made the whole school day worthwhile, and was the best possible note to end on. (Then, needless to say, I got drenched on my way back to the staff room and even moreso on my way home, but it was so worth it.) Thanks to the rain, I couldn’t run. Sad day. I’ve been absolutely terrible about running or training for this half-marathon. I guess my biggest consolation is that it will be in South Africa where (I think) the elevation is considerably lower, so I’ll at least be able to breathe, even if my legs are killing me. Instead of running, I took to decorating. I have finally begun to hang some of my beloved pictures up around my house. I also have numerous magazine clippings from that first week at Sekameng when I was bored out of my mind for so many days. It definitely feels more like home. It looks as though I will finish the photo-hanging this afternoon since the sky is as grey as ever and it has been sprinkling since the morning rain let up. I would venture a guess that the rainy season is upon us. My weekend was pretty lazy. I saw friends on Friday, went to town on Saturday, and basically went to sleep on Saturday evening around 5pm. I woke up several times, only to change location from my couch to my bed or lock my door, but otherwise I slept until 8 the next day. On Sunday, my run brought me to another nearby village where one of the teachers from Sekameng lives, and apparently another PCV too (I still need to get in touch with her and let her know I know where she lives!). It also marks the first time I’ve done laundry all on my own (meaning no washer/dryer/help-from-my-host-mom… no comments from the peanut gallery, thank you very much), and my first bath in five days. Yep, you read that right: five days. Not necessarily a fact I’m proud of as I’ve always been the kind of person who very much enjoys showers (right Mom and Dad?!) … but honestly… well, there is no excuse for me not bathing in so many days. Lucky for me, people here just don’t care. I’m told that once winter really hits, I’ll be going weeks at a time, just washing one limb at a time. Interesting… In any case, it is nice to have clean clothes again (even though I will re-wear mostly the same things I wore last week), and especially clean hair! This week we started on the official timetable, so I have a crazy hectic Monday, not-so-busy Tuesday, and moderately heavy Weds-Fri. Honestly, the teaching makes the time pass so much quicker than sitting in the staffroom listening to the other teachers speaking in Sesotho, but the downtime is nice for processing, writing, lesson-planning and being on my computer when the generator is running (now for example – I’m not using any power of my own battery! Sweet!) So while the generator is turned on, all the other teachers usually come in to charge their phones. Mine has been plugged in for a while now (my ears perk up at the first sound of the engine starting), probably almost complete, and so as they trickle in, they see me on my computer and ask what I’m doing. I just showed two of them photos for almost half an hour! They love to see what my home looks like, as well as what my life has been like in Lesotho so far! I will have to compile a better photo list for them… (which means you should email me small photos and I can show them off… or just print them and send them!) I really like most of the teachers with whom I am working here at Sekameng, but there is one who is especially wonderful. She asked me (within ten minutes of meeting me) if I liked to exercise. I responded in the affirmative, naturally, and she told me she wanted to lose her tummy, which she hates (haha, don’t we all). I hesitantly offered my running company (not thinking she would actually follow through with it) and she enthusiastically accepted. The next day, she came running with me. Every time I have run since then (granted, this is all of twice), she has been tagging along behind, usually quite far behind because she is just getting into shape, but still, even her presence has been very motivational. I think I’ve always known that it is the small things in life that make each day worthwhile, but I’m learning it more and more here. After the first day of teaching, she offered to take me to the big shop, the one that is farther away from campus. I was thrilled and jumped at the chance to mingle more with the other teachers. We had nice conversation on our way over and back, and jokingly agreed to cook for each other sometime. As we were walking back, she mentioned the clinic and her friends there, and I told her I would also like to meet them (part of our assignments for the first few months at site are getting to know everything about your village). The next day after we ran, she said, “Let’s go to the clinic so you can meet my friends.” Talk about follow through! We walked the 10 minutes to the clinic in town and were met at their door with only smiles and warm welcomes. I greeted them in Sesotho and they laughed at me, not your typical response. We began talking and I discovered that they were in fact Kenyans (hence the laughter at my Sesotho), and they have been working here for some years now. ‘M’e Mamosala (the teacher I’m befriending) and I talked with Henry while Mercy bustled about the kitchen, preparing tea, collecting water and doing dishes. She asked how much sugar I took in my tea, and brought over the most delicious (cream and sugar-filled) tea I have tasted in months. Next came a plate boasting a lovely pancake, rolled up with a fork stuck in it. Truthfully, I did not recognize it as a pancake at first, but when she said it was called a pancake, I felt pretty foolish for even asking. It was delicious. Mercy and Henry were truly a breath of fresh air. We talked about everything, from Peace Corps to the village to the country’s political system to political systems around Africa, as well as education here and in the rest of Africa, and differences between Lesotho and South Africa. Wow, I could’ve cried; talking to them made me so happy. The four of us talked well into the darkness of the evening, so around 7:45pm, we began to wrap up our chat. They both gathered their coats and a flashlight to walk us back to Sekameng, assuring me that their door was always open and that they were very pleased to have met me, As we parted, Henry even told me, “I believe that we meet people for a purpose; you have not come into our lives for no reason” (I know it almost sounds cheesy, but it was music to my homesick ears). Henry is also a pastor at a church in Maseru somewhere (still developing at this point), but he assured me services were held in English and they cater primarily to an international community (hey, that’s me!). I will go with them sometime, and I look forward to it. Two nights ago (on Sunday), as I was starting to think about what my dinner would be, ‘M’e Mamosala came by, just to say hello, let me know that she was back from her weekend and inquire about mine. She mentioned that she was going to cook papa and cabbage and I chuckled and said that I was also going to have cabbage, but in a soup. I showed her the recipe, and she said, “Yes, I think we can cook this; it looks quite nice.” Just like that, I had a dinner date. We arranged who would supply what (I offered my cabbage, carrots and spices; she provided onions, tomatoes and papa), and I walked over to cook with her. It turned into quite the dinner party! Mamosala is very social, so anyone who passed her open door was practically trapped into eating something with us, but it was a great time. The next day, I brought the former PCV’s cookbook in to the staffroom and every other (female) teacher there told me she wanted to make copies of it so she could learn to cook better, and “not be so fat.” Last night we finished the soup and added some eggs to the meal. It was very nice, but I think my favorite was teaching her to play solitaire, with a real deck of cards rather than on a computer. Some of the rules escaped her, I think… at one point, we had 10 different piles, because she kept finding kings. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that you could only move a king onto a new pile if that pile is one of the seven and it is empty. I tried to teach her Gin, but she loved the solitaire – I don’t think I’ve ever won so many consecutive rounds! In other news, some friends and I have put in our bids for the World Cup 2010 ticket lottery. We find out early February (and our credit cards are charged). Cross your fingers that one of us gets lucky and will be able to see some great soccer! (Do not worry; I am going regardless, it’s just a matter of whether or not I’ll be in a stadium, or in town somewhere.) Well, it seems a waste to pack the computer up when I have two hours until my next class and the generator is still running, but I think it’s time. Give someone a hug for me! All my love from Africa :)

(From January 20, 2010) Since Thursday, much has happened. I went in to Mafeteng camptown, had a lovely tour with Melissa, Joey and Nathan, and then Joey and Nathan came back to Sekameng with me. We cooked a delicious dinner together and chatted into the wee hours of the morning, looking at the awesome stars and laughing about life. Water pressure dropped sometime around Friday or Saturday, and (what I thought was) my toilet began to smell really bad. I tried to be patient and flush it clear every time I could, but there was just no getting rid of the smell. This stench progressed into my bedroom, where it lingered, and I concluded that it was not actually my bathroom, but rather the dead mouse that I had poisoned days before. Two to three days was probably about the right amount of time for that poison to kick in, so it had probably died in my ceiling where it was living. I found the situation both amusing and slightly depressing. Amusing because honestly, how dumb do I have to be? I poisoned an animal that lives in my ceiling; of course it’s going to go there to die. Then I have to deal with the smell for however long it takes a mouse corpse to decompose? Great. And slightly depressing because, well, I would have to deal with the smell for however long that is. I told my counterpart and the secretary at school about it but tried to laugh it off – I did not want them worrying about it or trying to have the roof disassembled just to get the dead mouse out of there. They seemed only minorly concerned, and (thankfully) laughed at me (which I needed and deserved), especially because I inherited this cat, who should be killing any mice in my house, or at least scaring them away with cat-smell. In the meantime, I tried to ignore the stench of rotting carcass (which only seemed to be in my bedroom) when I went to sleep or needed to change clothes, and I avoided my room as much as possible. School started on Monday. And by “started” I do not mean started as you or I might think of school starting. I mean some students showed up ready for class to begin, some came rather to register for classes, and even more simply did not come at all. Furthermore, the teachers did not even know who would be teaching what classes. So really, school did not actually start on Monday. After several teachers’ meetings (and a whole lot of Sesotho), it was determined that I would be teaching Math(s) and Physics to Form A students, and Physics to Form B’s. I guess this suits me just fine. It totals 20 class hours per week as both A and B will be split into A1 and A2, B1 and B2. I had requested to only teach Math and Physics (if science at all, though I will say, it is nice for a balance), so that is what I got. I will never forget walking into the classroom for the first time, those Form A students’ reactions to seeing my face at the door instead of a Basotho teacher were priceless. Lots of “OOOOOOOHHH”s and “OHWAAAUUUUWWWW”s (spelled phonetically, of course). Not long after I came into the classroom and set my things down on the small desk at the front of the classroom, all fifty plus students were dead silent. “Good morning, class,” is the typical greeting, so I said it and smiled. They all rushed to stand (as they are taught in primary school I think) and respond “Good morning, Madam!” “How are you today, class?” “We are fine, Madam, how are you?” Wow. It was that simple. Or at least I hoped so… I spent the first few minutes going over expectations (a new word for many of them I believe). I expect things of them and I want them to expect things of me. For example, I expect them to respect each other, to try their hardest, to ask questions if/when they have them… all sorts of things taking classes means to me. I want them to expect me to show up to class (many Basotho teachers simply opt not to go to class if they feel so inclined), to answer their questions to the best of my ability, to mark their papers on time, etc. I’m truly not sure how much of what I was saying (very, very clearly) actually clicked in their heads, but hopefully something stuck. I should mention that primary school runs grades 1 through 7, then High School has forms A through E (Sometimes they will do secondary school which is A-C, and then High School for D and E, but Sekameng is A-E). Primary school is taught only in Sesotho, though they do learn English. Once they get to Secondary level, all classes (except Sesotho, of course) are held in English. This can be a challenge, even for Basotho teachers. When you then add to the mix my accent (an American-taught American English accent), things can get very confusing. Today was quite an exciting day in and of itself. During the last period of the day, several students came by the staff room where I was talking with some of the other teachers. They asked us if Indian people were considered black or white; apparently one of the other teachers wanted to know (maybe teaching development studies we think?). This raised a very interesting discussion. One teacher said they are white (I think her line of reasoning was that they are not black, so they must be white). Most teachers did not know, but the one who most strongly voiced his opinion believed that they were black. He then asked me what I though and I said, “Sometimes people in America call them brown; I do not think they are black or white; they are just Indian.” He went on to try to convince me that because of the shape of their nose and their hair color that they were black. An interesting perspective, to be sure. I did not want to argue too much in the first week of school but I can tell, there will definitely be a good amount of mutual learning here. After our discussions, I went home (slightly disappointed I would not be able to run due to the thunder) and began writing, finishing up a letter. Jackie (the cat) came in (as usual whenever the door is open even the slightest bit) and began to make his way around, checking first if any food had been left out. I’m beginning to trust Jackie more, bit by bit, though I must say it helps to have a squirt bottle handy. I continued my writing and after a while with no sound from the cat, I decided to go make sure he wasn’t causing trouble. I heard a crunching sound and figured the rascal was in the kitchen eating something he shouldn’t. Armed with my spray bottle, I walked into the kitchen, sure I would find him digging around in my food. No cat. I was perplexed. I turned around and checked the rest of my house – there on the floor of my bedroom by the foot of my bed was Jackie, crunching on the head of a dead mouse while maggots crawled around all over my floor! EWW! As it turns out, the mouse I had poisoned did not live in the ceiling. It lived under my bed, so it died under my bed. The stench I had smelled was not coming from ten feet above me; it was coming from two feet below me. The cat had gone into my room and dug the rotting carcass out from under my bed – a nice afternoon snack! I threw on my sandals and dashed out the door to try to find someone to help me clean up the mess (looking back, I do not know why I needed someone to help me sweep it up, but I was flipping out). My counterpart had left for Maseru for the evening, so I went next to the principal who has, on numerous occasions, offered to help in any way he can. He, naturally, was out of his office at the moment. I burst into the staff room where the other male teachers were, but they were busy talking to a group of students. They asked what I needed; I told them; they assured me they would be there soon (Basotho time). On my way back home, I saw the principal’s secretary and her assistant coming towards the office. They saw how distraught I was and asked what was going on. When I explained the situation, ‘M’e Motselisi simply said. “’M’e, we are coming.” With that, they followed me home, kicked the cat off my sofa, grabbed my broom and swept all the nasty maggots from the floor. She then pulled my bed all the way out, swept the rest of my floor and dumped the garbage outside, well away from my home. Just that simple. I told her she rescued me and she just laughed and said “Okay ‘M’e Katie, we will see you tomorrow.” And that was that.

(From January 14, 2010) Happy New Year! I am officially a Peace Corps VOLUNTEER (not just trainee anymore), and it is SO nice to have the PCV after my name instead of the PCT. Our swearing in ceremony was very nice. It started promptly when the program said it would start (which is a big thing in Lesotho) and ended on time if not earlier than scheduled. There were a few speeches, our acting country director, the training coordinator, some other Basotho, the Charge d’Affaires (fancy French title) and then two of our own training class: one in English and one in Sesotho. All the speeches were very nice, saying how our “class” is one of the best (take that Ed’09! no, I kid). They were motivational, inspirational, and very good, especially in Sesotho. Immediately following the ceremony, they started popping open bottles of (what we thought were) champagne. Unfortunately, we had forgotten the no alcohol rule for staff, so it was just bubbling grape juice. Still, we toasted to everything we could think of, and especially that all 29 of us had made it through to swearing in. Afterwards, we had a big lunch with all of the guests and then we were free! The All-Volunteer Conference (All-Vol for short) started that night with dinner and a talent show. It was really great to get to meet all (or most of) the other volunteers and see more of what it’s all about. The talent show consisted mostly of musical acts, though there were some exceptions (Rubik’s Cube solving in record time, speech writing and delivering in record time, a free-style rap-off). The next two days (Friday and Saturday) were full of sessions about policies and projects and grants and funding… all very useful but the sessions were pretty dull. We found ways to entertain ourselves until dinner-time rolled around, and then the fun started. There was an epic softball game one night, and dance parties all three nights. I wouldn’t say any of us really are spectacular dancers, but we all enjoyed it. Sunday morning brought lots of packing and lots of goodbyes, probably one of the hardest things for me. All the new volunteers left the training center for longer than we’ve been in country, not to return to Maseru until late March. In this time, we are to start integrating into our communities and we begin teaching on Monday the 18th. My school, Sekameng Diocesan High School, is located in the village of Sekameng, in the Mafeteng District of Lesotho. Mafeteng is one district south of Maseru, so I don’t (in theory) have too long a commute from the capital. I’m fortunate enough to have a fairly large apartment – I guess it’s a duplex? – with my counterpart (another science teacher) as my neighbor. I have a main room with a table, small desk thing, several chairs and a small sofa (that smells like cat). Then there is my kitchen. Definitely not what I’m used to at home, but I think it will do quite nicely. My only complaint about the kitchen so far is lack of counter space, but I’ll make do. I have a small bathroom with a bathtub, sink and toilet. I have a bedroom with a large-ish desk and bookshelf, as well as a wardrobe where my clothes live. There is another room, which I plan on using for laundry purposes and general storage, and to host guests if I ever have any friends come visit me. I should say straight away that even though I have a toilet and sink, the water is definitely not “running” … more of a dribble. I think it probably takes my toilet’s tank 20 minutes to fill completely, so too many guests could be trouble. There is a constant puddle of water on the floor near the toilet, which makes trips to the bathroom after dark a little interesting, to say the least. Water trickles out of the sink, which makes brushing teeth and washing face an interesting task, and it barely comes out of the tap in the tub… so I think, alas, I will indeed be bucket bathing for the next two years. I just need to figure out how, exactly. Along with this wonderful house (and I do love it), came a cat. I can hear you already, “Oh, how nice! A friendly companion, someone to snuggle with in the winter and another presence in an otherwise very large house!” Well, yeah, sort of. This cat has ticks, larger than I have ever wanted to see, embedded in its neck and ears (anywhere it can’t reach with its tongue to clean) and then some loose ticks, just crawling around its fur. Chances are pretty good that it also has fleas. Okay, so it’s not so cute… and it won’t leave me alone. It thinks it owns the place. If I let it in, it goes straight to the kitchen and yowls because it is hungry. If there is food on the counter or anywhere within smell, it jumps all around until it finds it, and then tries to eat it (one time I thought it was behaving, but no, it was licking my pots). Here’s the kicker, folks: Lesotho is hot in the summer (now). Like 85-95 degree Fahrenheit hot. I like to open my doors and windows to try to cool the place down a little, but if they’re open wider than a cat’s head, my little feline friend finds a way in. I’m working on my relation with this cat; we’re setting boundaries with a squirt bottle and more kicking and picking up and throwing than I might like, but not much else works. When I arrived back to Sekameng after the New Year, I found everything much the same. The cat was still there, yowling loud as ever for food and love, but it seemed I had also been visited by smaller animals… there was mouse poop all over my kitchen, and in some other places as well. GROSS. I have never had to deal with mice in my home before, so naturally, now that I’m completely alone and have to deal with things one hundred percent independently, they arrive. Thankfully, the previous PCV left some poison, so I set that out before bed each night. One night, however, I set it out too early. I let the cat in for a little while before I was going to cook dinner, and when I walked into the kitchen, the cat was just sitting by where the poison had been, looking slightly unhappy. Naturally, I freaked out. OH MY GOSH I POISONED THE CAT I DON’T EVEN WANT! I guess it would be a solution to one problem, but then what if the mice came back? The cat wouldn’t be any help at all if it were dead! And then I’d have guilt… and what would the village think? “The new Peace Corps Teacher killed her cat!” Great. I kicked the cat out of the house, cooked my dinner, cleaned up and went to bed (after setting out another hefty dose of poison for those little buggers). The next day when I woke up, the poison was gone (this time I know the mice ate it) and the cat was nowhere to be found. I made a lot of noise around the house so it might hear me and I could verify whether or not I was actually a murderer, and eventually took off on my run. Upon my return, it did not greet me as normal… in fact it was not until some hours later that I saw the cat again. Whew! What a relief – I had not, in fact, killed “my” cat. It yowled as loud as ever and begged just as hard as before for food. Since then, I have been extra careful with when I put out the poison, and always keep one eye on the cat when it is in my house. Another good adventure worth telling and laughing about is my dinner adventure the other night. One of my favorite foods is popcorn, and I decided to make some to have with the soup-ish thing I concocted. As many of my pots were dirty and I only wanted a little popcorn, I decided to use the smallest pot I had. But I overestimated on the kernels… so it started popping the top off. Before I could get to the pot, some had spilled onto the burner (probably at least a handfull’s worth) and one such kernel had caught on fire. Oh perfect. I’m going to burn the place down. Thankfully I was thinking enough to remove the pot from the heat and turn the gas off… and then, naturally, dump water on the fire. I really lucked out that there was no grease or anything more dangerous burning. The fire did indeed go out right away, and I was left with a pile of soggy popcorn on my burner. Lesson learned. Just wash the bigger pot and use it. Otherwise things have been eerily quiet. Few students have come in to register before classes start on Monday, so I’ve been writing a lot of letters, journaling a fair amount, solving sudoku and crossword puzzles like it’s my job, and running when I get the motivation. I find out what classes I’ll actually be teaching on Monday (cleaning and organization day) and then begin officially teaching on Tuesday. I’m told that life will pick up considerably after this weekend (how could it be any deader?!), and I must admit, I’m looking forward to it. I’m sure teaching will present its challenges (like learning to speak English so the students can understand) but also its rewards. I’m thrilled that my school already has a library and am very much hoping to be able to help out so the students can access the books. I also learned today that there is a math/science club (woo-hoo! just like my high school!) so I can help with that… My counterpart also planted the idea-seed of starting a sort of gym – using one of the empty rooms and creating weights and equipment. Awesome. It seems there is no lack of things to do here; I just need to learn to be more patient.

HI! WELCOME TO MY BLOG!I waited a long time to start this only because when I was in Italy, I simply sent emails home to update friends. I think this time I like this way better, I hope you do too! Please feel free to contact me (kashepard7@gmail.com), but know that it may be a week or more before I can get back to you!(This post is technically from quite a while ago -- December 27th?)It is only fair to warn you that Lesotho is full of contradictions. With that in mind, I will describe (to the best of my ability) my life in Lesotho. Up until this point, all twenty-nine of the trainees have been primarily living in the Peace Corps Training Center located in Maseru, the capital city. A tall brick wall topped with barbed wire surrounds the compound, and it is patrolled 24 hours a day by a guard who makes rounds approximately every fifteen minutes. It has running water and electricity as well as a washer and dryer. There is a wonderful kitchen staff that cooks three meals a day for us and bakes delicious corn muffins for our two tea breaks everyday. They’ve been pretty good about accommodating the vegetarians in the group (E for effort, at least) with various tuna dishes (I’m not a fan of tuna), breaded-and-deep-fried-veggie-burger-things, and the occasional lentil dishes (my favorite, by far). Otherwise, meals typically consist of some type of starch, usually papa (ground meal that is cooked to the consistency of thick mashed potatoes) or rice or pasta; moroho (the blanket term for vegetables that have been cooked with way too much salt and exorbitant amounts of oil), nama (some sort of interesting meat, I don’t eat it but I’m told it’s commonly mutton or chicken), and occasionally some type of coleslaw or fruit (from a can) in jello/pudding/custard… mishmash… thing. I’ve been eating fine, usually way too much in fact. Once I move to my site and am able to cook for myself, eggs and lentils will be staple protein sources in my diet. Vegetables may not be fresh, but there are options. Fruits so far have been mostly apples (yellow delicious, granny smith on a good day, red delicious on a bad day), some bananas, an occasional apricot, as well as more exotic fruits, depending on how much one is willing to spend at the grocery store. Though peach trees abound, children are generally so hungry that they pick them long before they are ripe, so any peaches are shipped in from South Africa. Water has not been an issue since they have provided for us very well, but the village in which we lived for Community Based Training had to have water specially pumped in because we were to be staying there. Village pumps do sometimes run dry, which is a concept both very foreign and absolutely terrifying to me. To run out of something so basic and elemental for life makes me beyond thankful for all I have at home, and disgusted because in the simple flush of a toilet in America wastes up to five gallons of water, an amount that would give me more than enough bath water for a week at site (depending on how dirty I get and how frequently I choose to bucket-bathe). Before we drink any water, we are (very strongly) encouraged to boil it for three minutes and let it pass through the filter that the Peace Corps Medical Office provides. If all goes correctly, we won’t have any floaties – after all, nobody likes chunky water. We’ve gotten numerous immunizations from the Medical office (they take pretty good care of us) including Yellow Fever, Typhoid, Tetanus, two (if not all three) of the Hepatitis strains, and probably some others that I’m forgetting. Malaria is not a problem here since Lesotho is both so far south and so high in elevation that it would take too much time for any malaria-bearing mosquitoes to get here from the more northern parts. Though we’re safe in Lesotho, if we go on vacation, even to South Africa, we do need to take anti-malarial medicine. For the first few weeks of our training, we attended four sessions a day about every aspect of life here including technical training, medical information, Sesotho language, culture, safety and security, and simple practical, logistical things. For example, one time we took a transportation fieldtrip, which involved partnering up with a fellow trainee and one of the trainers, walking into town, taking a taxi from the ShopRite to the taxi rank, walking around the (unbelievably intimidating) taxi rank, taking a taxi back to the ShopRite, and walking home. Simple enough, right? For how acclimated we were to the culture at that point in training, it was actually a pretty big and very scary step. Our language classes were divided based on ability and learning style and consisted of two or three students, which was a great way to learn. It was very different from any other formal language training I’ve received, since most of it was verbal only, rather than written. Technical training sessions included scheming, lesson planning and practice teaching. We also learned about the history of the educational system in Lesotho, as well as a brief historical overview (but brief and pretty broad because as volunteers, we are prohibited from involving ourselves in any way, shape or form with the political system here). One of the sessions that stands out most was one in which we learned about the corporal punishment here. It was a panel of teachers (several Basotho and one PCV) and the president of the board of principals in Lesotho. All of the teachers (who were female) said how wrong it was to corporally punish a child and how Lesotho is trying to make steps away from using CP in schools. As many of us were about to doze off, it came time for the principal to speak. He was very much in favor of using CP and was doing all he could to convince us it was the only way to discipline students who may be misbehaving. The atmosphere in the room was absolutely electric, and many of us became very uncomfortable. It was absolutely chilling to hear someone speak of beating children like it was as natural as breathing, and what made it worse was the way that the women in the panel (and our trainers) dealt with it. As far as I could tell, their way of coping with being uncomfortable is laughing, whether or not it is actually funny. There was obviously nothing amusing in this instance, which did not ease the tension at all. We had a sort of debriefing session later in the evening to voice our concerns and learn what to actually expect from the current volunteers – CP is very much a reality in Lesotho, but we are not allowed to use it (no surprise there, only relief), something our principals will definitely also know, a huge relief. Maseru is about the size of Des Moines, IA in terms of population, but it is definitely more sprawled out. Transportation: Though Lesotho is roughly the size of Maryland (?) in the States, it can take over ten hours to travel from Maseru (on the far western corner of the country) to some places in Mokhotlong (the eastern-most district). This is largely due to the incredibly mountainous geography, but there is only one main freeway road in the entire country (which might contribute as well). It runs in the shape of a C and most other roads are very rocky or gravelly and difficult to travel. Further, if one is taking public transportation, a 30-kilometer taxi ride can last several hours, depending on the driver. A “taxi” can entail anything from a standard taxi in the states (referred to here as a four-plus-one – four passengers and one driver) to a fifteen-passenger van (usually full to somewhere closer to twenty people plus luggage plus children) up to a much larger van. Waiting for a taxi is always quite the experience. If one is leaving from a town, one must go to the taxi rank, which is basically the biggest mess of confusing taxis departing for various destinations, peddlers selling fruits, Simbas (think nasty, mostly broken, strangely-flavored cheetos), air-time for cell phones, crushed rocks to treat acid indigestion, shoes, belts, haircuts, chicken feet and a million other really random objects. The taxi rank in Maseru has at least three main areas – one for local four-plus-ones, one for regional shuttles, and one for further journeys. As soon as a taxi arrives, it jumps in the back of the line for the taxis departing to the town it just came from and everyone jumps out. If a taxi is first in line, it will wait until it is completely full before it will pull away, and I mean completely. This is mostly a matter of luck: if you arrive to an empty taxi, it could take hours before it is full, but if you’re one of the later ones aboard, you definitely timed it right. Then the driver and conductor have to chat with people they pass on the road on the way out of town… sometimes they know a lot of people, sometimes only a few. Eventually, you will be on your way to wherever it is you’re going… and then you must be prepared to be uncomfortable and to be in that position for a while. You may be asked to hold onto luggage, groceries, and sometimes even small children. One of my favorite taxi rides involved an older lady absolutely pounding a very large plastic water bottle that did absolutely not contain water… and dancing a lot. Oh yeah, the music… can be anything from trashy pop from the States (think the newest Akon CD) to singing in Sesotho accompanied by accordion, tambourine and drums (which sound like buckets). The volume is most likely turned up to eleven. Basotho do not like the windows rolled down (or over, I guess, since technically they’re usually sliding windows) at anything above a crawl since they believe evil things will come in through the windows (one misconception is that you can catch HIV from the air that comes in through an open taxi window). Passengers will get on and off the taxi as you drive and sometimes the driver just feels like pausing for an unbelievably long amount of time by the side of the road for seemingly no reason. The main thing to understand about transportation here is that it depends on a lot and you really have to just let go and accept that you have little control. You will get wherever it is you’re going, but it will most likely not be when you wish to get there. Oh, and they drive on the wrong side of the road; the driver is on the wrong side of the car, and nobody is afraid to pass anybody else, no matter how fast the oncoming traffic is driving. (Barb – you would be so anxious riding in any sort of vehicle here; I frequently find myself thinking of you as I tense up as our vehicle passes another car but only barely before the oncoming traffic comes) Basotho Time (BT): Another recurring theme that you should probably understand about life here is that the vast majority of Basotho operate on Basotho time (what I will commonly abbreviate as BT). This is basically the general understanding that there is no such thing as “on time,” and consequently no such thing as “late.” This means that if you are holding a workshop that is scheduled to start at 9, chances are that maybe a third of the attendees will arrive around 9:20, but you should probably just be thankful if they’re all there by noon. People do not arrive on time, nor do they apologize for being late, and that is just a fact of life. They operate on BT, and they’re perfectly content with that. Along with BT comes the promise of “I will” which actually means something along the lines of “Maybe later, if I feel like it…” For example, when my principal’s secretary told me she would come by my new house to check on me and show me around, it meant she dropped by as she was on her way out of the school compound for the day only to pick up the pots that the previous volunteer had left (to put it into better perspective, I had been waiting for her all day and getting sort of depressed for the lack of things to do; I was less than thrilled). Community Based Training (CBT): Part of our training involved living in a village with a Basotho family. We were split up into several villages based on what our formal assignment area is, so science teachers were in Berea, primary resource teachers were in Ha Mabekenyane, and early childhood care/development, English and math teachers were all in Maqhaka (it should be noted here that the “q” represents a click, so we all had extra work in simply learning the correct pronunciation of our village, especially since if you just said Ma-ka-ka, it means something along the lines of poop, in a worse form). We were all paired with a family who had expressed interest in hosting someone, and had the means to do so. Peace Corps also paid them a small amount for the use of their house and for them to fetch us water and cook for us for a week, but I am sure they did it mostly out of the goodness of their hearts. It was interesting to be separate from everyone after having been in such close quarters for such a long time… nice to be on our own and unpack all of our things and make a space our own (instead of a bunk room with six girls and all their luggage), but at the same time, it could be incredibly lonely. The Peace Corps had set up a program for the family to take us through which included such things as sweeping (it really is an art here), bread-baking, washing clothes, making papa (aka stirring really thick goopy white stuff), making lesheleshele (a very interesting-consistency flavorless porridge they eat for breakfast), chopping and grating vegetables, and adding copious amounts of oil and salt to things in order to make them taste… like oil and salt (I say some of this with a hint of sarcasm only because I do know how to cook and clean and do laundry, something that surprised many of the Basotho, especially my host mother). My family consisted of ‘M’e Nthabiseng (mother), Nkhono Manthanbiseng (grandmother), and three bo-ausi: Rorisang, Tsepiso and Alina (sisters). I felt right at home with three younger sisters, though that’s really the end of the familial comparisons I’m going to draw. For example, my host ‘M’e was very short and squat (her biceps were about the size of my thighs, and I have put on weight), about the furthest thing from my own mother at home. Both she and my nkhono were very loving and generous; they were proud of just about everything I did, whether or not it merited it. I was Sesotho-named “Seithati,” which they frequently reminded me. If there was a moment too much of silence, there was no doubt a very high and nasally “Ausi Seithatiiiii!” on the way (cute at first, almost endearing, but by the end of the day, I would’ve killed to hear my real name). We left CBT just before Christmas, went back to the Training Center to celebrate together (we cooked a TON of food), since most of Lesotho is completely drunk (and dangerous) around the Christmas holidays. On December 27th, we will leave with all of our belongings from the training center to our new homes! (More to come on that later…)