It’s getting cold and dry here as our third Lesotho winter is setting in, but this morning there’s a distinct energy in the air: loud beats are playing from people’s solar charged stereos, pick-up trucks carry people with bullhorns up and down the road, crowds of our neighbors flock to the local primary school to cast their vote. It’s national Election Day and there’s a lot at stake for the office of Prime Minister. I’m not sure whether the political hodgepodge is more like Game of Thrones or The Young and the Restless, but election drama and allegiances are alive and well. And for good reason—the past year has had more than its share of fishy political maneuvers and party splits giving Basotho plenty to disagree about. Much of the controversy surrounds the current Prime Minister, Pakalitha Mosisili, who has been in power for 15 years but rather suddenly become a hotly debated leader. A few months ago he was almost impeached by a vote of no-confidence called by his own party after being accused of dismissing several government ministers with no apparent cause (aka thinning out his opponents). A bit shaken-up but still in power, he broke ties with his accusers and declared a brand new party overnight, taking with him over half the Members of Parliament (MPs). This new party, called Democratic Congress (DC), wields a huge amount of political power and name recognition—which can translate into lots of votes from rural areas or the politically uninformed. But it has also created an ever-growing backlash against what some Basotho see as outright and illegal manipulation connected with Mr. Mosisili. With the many parties involved, the ballot today must look like a giant bowl of alphabet soup: BNP, LCD, BCP, ABC, DC, and about 8 more. Each has their own colors, logos, songs, dances, and no joke, secret hand signals. Most of these take a backseat to the three main parties; DC and Mr. Mosisili will face their main opposition from the party that he renounced earlier, Lesotho Congress for Democracy (LCD) and All Basotho Congress (ABC), each led by other out-spoken MPs. The puzzling thing is, all these different names offer hardly any difference in policies or ideas—they all promise things like economic development and progress fighting HIV/AIDS in very generic terms. A vote comes very much down to personal feelings of loyalty or frustration with whoever might be the head of whatever party.  But that doesn’t stop the clever campaigning. Whole entourages of fancy cars sporting decals of the party logos speed through the villages blasting dance music and packing in as many people as can possibly fit inside and then a few more. Party t-shirts and hats and posters are part of everyone’s proud new outfits. Last week, rallies for each party were held in Maseru in open fields around a stage, lights and sound system that could have hosted Lady Gaga. Mr. Mosisili played a cunning little move by writing personal checks to rent out all the charter buses that bring people into the city on rally day—the ticket to ride was a DC shirt. A friend who strongly opposes Mr. Mosisili, grabbed a free t-shirt, hopped a ride, and just went to a different rally instead. For all the fluff and drama that politics (anywhere) can bring, this is a big day for Lesotho. This election is the first in over a decade that has stoked the fire in Basotho to get out and let their voices be heard. Our neighbors have definite and diverse opinions that they are taking to the polls today, and it’s exciting to see that. There is still plenty of skepticism about what might happen after the votes are counted—fears of rigged results or unrest or no change in actual governing. But the tiny kingdom of Lesotho has a chance to be an example to a continent that has far too few precedents of peaceful change-of-power, compliant leaders and democratic progress. Arch-bishop Desmond Tutu visited last month and urged all parties involved to set this example. We shall see in a matter of hours. I should add (for the sake of our mothers) that Peace Corps is being very vigilant about the security of volunteers throughout election season. We’re safe in our village and they made us promise to stay out of any riots. Also, (for the sake of our bosses) none of what I’ve written here reflects the official views of Peace Corps or the United States, who are proud nonpartisan supporters of the election process. Go democracy!

“It is a form of praying, he claimed, to walk out to the very edge of your life. Every time the reply comes clear as a stone at our thin crowns. It misses almost every time, humming as it goes.” - from And On The Third Day by Andrew Allport

beach, table mountain, wine tour, half marathon, seafood, birthday, whiskey bar, shopping, ferris wheel, fresh coffee, bliss; Cape Town 

“Women are on earth to serve men.” “Women are not allowed to say no to a man.” “HIV spreads so rapidly because women are loose and sell themselves for sex.” “Women should be beaten to keep them in line.” “A young girl is the least important person in a household.” These are the currents flowing beneath the homes of Lesotho. And they’re not simply cultural norms that are silently understood. These statements are boldly spoken and believed by most men in Lesotho. I feel a fire burn through me when I hear many of the teen boys in my youth groups say these words to my face with no shame. But more deeply, and more softly, I feel a dull ache for the females of this country—condemned to servitude, disease and death by not being allowed a voice, but still being openly blamed by the very perpetrators of the crime. Because of these beliefs, and because of the fact that girls aged 15 – 35 are at the highest risk for contracting HIV in Lesotho, I joined up with two other volunteers, Adam Peel and Juliana Fulton, in March to hold a GLOW (Girls Leading Our World) camp. We invited 25 girls from our communities who are recently graduated from high school to attend a weeklong camp focusing on female empowerment. Subjects included: Self-esteem, where the girls explored the foundation of their self-worth and ways to improve their self-esteem; Leadership skills, where the girls defined leadership in their own personal ways and learned of other women in history who have changed the world; Communication skills, where the girls learned how to express their thoughts and feelings and deliver confident and assertive messages; Relationship skills, where the girls explored ideas of love and romance and discussed aspects of healthy and unhealthy relationships; HIV/AIDS prevention and mitigation information, where the girls were able to hear the life story of a strong, successful woman personally affected by HIV; Sexual/reproductive health, where the girls learned about, well, themselves; Transactional sex, where the girls learned about the dangers of entering in relationships that center around goods or money for sex; Delaying sex/abstinence, where the girls explored their personal choices and found ways to support their choices regarding sex; Condom use, where the girls learned to put condoms on carrots so they never have a reason to avoid using a condom; and Career guidance, where the girls explored goals they have for their lives and ways to reach those goals in Lesotho. The highlight of all the sessions had to be when we had a certified Brazilian Jiu Jitsu instructor come in and teach the girls Fight Like a Girl, a fantastic self-defense program that really had the girls pumped. In addition, each evening we showed movies related to our sessions from the day with discussion time after, and then topped the whole week off with a fantastic talent show so the girls had a chance to glow with pride and showcase their new-found confidence. Gender inequality affects so many aspects of Lesotho’s welfare in vast ways. I will say however, females in Lesotho generally have equal opportunity in education and employment. In fact, an article published on International Women’s Day listed Lesotho as the best country in the world for women to learn to read. However, further down in the article, Lesotho was listed as the worst country for women’s health since the life expectancy for women is currently 48. To me, this shows how women are still seen as inferior in their homes and families when it comes to their personal health and how women, far above men, are desperately suffering from HIV/AIDS. Even though it will be years before the gender norms change in this country, I am so proud to say that I am playing a very small part in that transition. You might have missed International Women’s Day (March 8), but you can still hug a woman in your life today and tell her exactly why she is so amazing and necessary in this world.

I just wrote a short article for the Peace Corps Lesotho newsletter about a few major stories in the HIV/AIDS world from 2011. Thought it might be interesting to pass along: The war against HIV has many battlefields: while we sit in our huts planning Life Skills lessons to empower young people, scientists tinker with cell membranes and researchers design ambitious trials. And since we just had to submit our Peace Corps Reporting, we thought it might be nice to check in on how those guys in lab coats are spending their time. So, in case you missed anything, here’s a very short Year in Review of 2011 HIV/AIDS news: Closing in on a Cure? Last year marked some major strides in researching a cure for HIV, with two patients in particular grabbing the science headlines. A man known as the “Berlin Patient” was technically cured from HIV and leukemia through complete bone marrow transplants. The procedure is obviously arduous, impractical and very expensive, but it was considered a huge breakthrough. The other man, the “Trenton Patient”, underwent gene therapy and was able to control the virus for a period without the help of any antiviral drugs. The connecting and exciting factor in both these cases deals with disabling the CCR5 protein on the CD-4 cell wall—the door through which HIV enters the cell. Even a small percentage of humans are born without any CCR5 proteins on their immune cells and are thus “naturally resistant” to HIV. The challenge scientists are now facing is to decipher a practical way of disabling CCR5 on a wide-scale, and last year’s protein success-stories may offer major clues. African Contraceptive Risk The most common contraceptive in Eastern and Southern Africa is a 3-month hormonal shot—it is quick, easy and doesn’t require a doctor. However, a new study reveals that the hormonal contraceptive can greatly increase women’s susceptibility to HIV/AIDS. The numbers show that women taking the shot double their risk of infection, or if already infected, are almost twice as likely to transmit the virus to their male partners.Researchers are trying to pinpoint the reason for the increased risk and suspect that the hormone shot may cause biological changes in sexual organs and fluids. These findings are troubling because cheap and easily administered contraceptives are critical for African women planning for children and a family. Until the results are better understood, policymakers are trapped in the middle ground between the worrying evidence and premature overreaction. Scientific Breakthrough of the Year “HIV Treatment as Prevention”, as the study has been nicknamed, has measured the effect of early ARV treatment in preventing transmission. Selected by Science Magazineas the “Breakthrough of the Year”, the study looked at over 1,700 heterosexual couples with one HIV-positive partner and found that when the infected partner began ARV treatment early on, the transmission rate dropped by a staggering 96%. This evidence poses big implications for possibly seeing ARVs as a form of prevention, rather than just treatment. Major players in the global epidemic including the World Health Organization, PEPFAR and UNAIDS are starting to integrate this breakthrough into their worldwide strategies. Failed HIV Research A vaginal gel that prevents HIV transmission but also allows pregnancy has been long sought, especially for women to protect themselves in situations when male partners refuse to use condoms. Unfortunately, a recent study on such a gel has been stopped midway through because of discouraging results early on. Of the 5,000 participants in Southern Africa, the women using the gel showed no statistical difference with the placebo group—new HIV infections occurred in 6% of each group. Although the results are disappointing, developing a successful gel is still a major aspiration, and experiments with others are underway.  

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

Huffington Post - What the Peace Corps taught me about failure: Take away the glitter and adventure and this article sums up a lot of what we go through everyday - what I’ve personally been going through for about 3 months.  It’s still worth it. But it’s really hard. I love living here, but I struggle working here.

Late-afternoon walk. Special thanks to Erin Williams for getting this shot!

“…For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror, that we are still able to bear, and we revere it so, because it calmly disdains to destroy us…” - The First Elegy by Rainer Maria Rilke

Maybe we didn’t make it for Turkey Day last week, but on Friday we celebrated 4 happy, adventuresome years of marriage. This past year, more than any other, has forced us to hold each other and sing the words of this song. Happy Anniversary, my foxy babe. 

I am proud to tell you that October 22nd marked the grand opening of the Rise and Shine Community Library in Ha Khabo. At 9 o’clock the morning of the celebration, I was caught between practicing my speech in Sesotho, calling World Vision to see when the refreshments would be delivered, and calling the sign company to find out when they would be bringing the library sign - essential for photos. The party was supposed to start at 9. I was only slightly bothered though because I had decided the day before that I would celebrate this day with pride and excitement no matter how the party went. At about 9:45, with only a handful of people lazily sauntering around the office compound, a library committee member told me we should begin because time was now against us. I sighed a little and reminded myself to let it go one more time. But surprisingly, the conference room next to the library seemed strangely fuller when we all filed in to start the ceremony. Little by little, as we sang and speeches were given, more and more people trickled in until we were left with only standing room. The fuller the room got, the faster our feet and louder our claps were as we sang and danced. Principals shared their dreams of how the library would inspire their students, the chief talked about how he hoped the books would bring a sharpened knowledge and power to the people of his village, the priestess offered a serenade of thanks to God for the willing hands and hearts of all those who transformed the dusty room into a sparkling den of treasure, the mother of the chief challenged all those present to take responsibility and take advantage of the new tools being passed to them, and the youth shyly gave their thanks for these small opportunities that could make huge differences in their lives. I was happy – although I must admit that a tinge of nerves hit me during my speech when I expressed thanks for the still absent food and library sign. And just before we were to move to the library, the manna and quail of bread and bologna was delivered, shortly followed by the creaking of a car and trailer inching up our dusty hill to bring us our freshly painted Rise and Shine Community Library sign. While the women of the library committee began quickly throwing sandwiches together, I took our ululating guest to the door of our brand new library. Lifting her hands in declaration over her head, the priestess offered a bold blessing over our quaint cement library and the chief cut the twisted crepe paper draped across the door. “Library ena e buloe!” I sang as the door was flung open. “Come in everyone. Come in. Kena bohle!”  Matt snapped quick shots of our eager guests but I just stepped back a few steps and pleasantly watched as the library was filled with pointing fingers, necks craned to see a book in another’s hands, curious eyes scoping the large paper insects in the corner, a smile pausing as it passed the Kandinsky poster. Books and books and books, and people reading them. The committee shared a little about how the library will work. Fiction and Information books, reading levels. For now all the books will stay in-house. In about a month, we’ll begin lending them out to members who bring a note from their chief (the only proof of residence around here) and pay a 60-cent monthly membership fee.  Because book lending is relatively unknown to people in Lesotho, members will be able to borrow books in a graduated system to ensure we don’t lose our stock. They’ll pay a $1.25 deposit to take a * book (those of which we have several duplicates). If they return these books on time and undamaged for four rentals, they’ll then graduate to ** books, and with the same deposit they’ll get to take home one our more prized books. After four weeks of success again, they’ll then be free to borrow *** textbooks and other non-fiction books. We finished our time in the library with our sandwiches, cookies, and Coke (away from the books of course) and people slowly wandered away one by one leaving Matt and me sitting in the satisfaction of a year’s worth of effort. Thank you to returned Peace Corps Volunteer Kristen Reed (and her friends and family) for securing close to 3,000 books through African Library Project. I also deeply thank my mom and the Sam Houston Elementary School for donating so many needed supplies and organizing their shipment across the Atlantic.

How to spend 36 Hours in Cape Town - NY Times: Instructions 1. Read the above article from the travel section of The New York Times.  2. Just Google some pictures of Cape Town in the summer in case you have any lingering doubts. 3. Get on a plane and visit us already! We’ll just meet you there. 4. Cross off that African vacation from your bucket list and brag to your all your friends about your personal tour of Southern Africa.  5. Or pack your running shoes and come with us in April for a half-marathon along the coast from the Indian to the Atlantic Ocean. Please? ;)

Our afternoon walk took us to the river, down the hill where the valley folds before rocks become boulders that become mountains abruptly on the opposite side. Immersed in a landscape alive with yellows and greens against sky blue, it’s afternoons like these that spring weekends are made for. Poncey, our one-year-old pup, approaches the water warily with a paw-poke and suspicious sniff as if afraid of getting pulled in, but a minute later is taking the low stream by leaps and bounds trackable only by a line of carefree splashes. We try to lure her into the deeper spots by tossing in her beloved tennis ball, eager to assess her doggie-paddle skills, but she forfeits the game quickly when she can’t see the bottom, leaving us to fetch our own throws. She darts in and out, this way and that, trying to be everywhere all at once, pestering cows and sheep trying to get a cool drink. We smile because she’s as happy as we are reveling in the fresh air, the sun-soaked views, and the cool water trickling around our ankles. The river cuts around freshly plowed fields of dark riverbed soil and laps at the edges of small sand dune islands that will disappear underwater after the next rain. For now, these are our stepping-stones and a treasury of flat, smooth ammo for skipping. At times my wife and I speak up over the sounds of breeze and brook, perhaps to point out an interesting plant or a new African bird, but mostly we let our surroundings do the talking, content to let our Sunday-afternoon thoughts wander where they may. We follow the meanders going nowhere in particular, instinctively aware of how sacred these moments are—no schedule to keep, no hurry and worry. A chance to loose ourselves from the cultural stress that we often pin on Lesotho, and to just look around at the vivid cliffs above us and smooth water between our toes. The beauty of this place can permeate if only we’ll take a Basotho lesson in slowing down and let it. Our walk probably took about an hour or so but the experience, I hope, will linger on into the week, calming my push for deadlines and action plans. But our afternoon isn’t over and the gaping wounds of Lesotho are never far away. Our route home runs along the main village road, giving a chance for Poncey to air dry and us to greet friends and neighbors. We wave casually to some teenagers that have sought the generous shade of a willow tree but then pause—not everyone is just resting. A boy is headed towards a thick hedge of bushes with a firm grip around the wrist of a young woman struggling in tow. Feeling our gaze, he turns innocently, smiles and waves back; the girl, silent. I chart a new course straight for the couple, calling out questions: “Where are you all going… Is everything okay… Do you need help, sister?” Our sudden curiosity is unexpected, and, as the nervous smirk of being caught crawls onto his face, he tries to change his wrist-clutching to hand-holding. Finally he gestures the obvious, indicating where he is going and why. But it’s the girl that is hard to read—she shifts back and forth wearing the same smirk. Then, shrugging off our concern, she strolls indifferently back towards the shade and onlooking friends away from the boy. Our remarks follow her: “Wait, sister, are you hurt? Who is this stupid boy? Please be smart… get away… tell him… next time… you really should…”—all things she’d heard her whole life from a million AIDS education campaigns, easy enough to not hear again. The situation is suddenly an awkward stand still, nobody talking, everyone somewhat shocked by the intervention. After a few last phrases of flustered Sesotho—my tone altering between scolding and pleading—I walk slowly back to the road with a shaming look lingering on the boy, knowing that catching this instance is just one in a thousand in Lesotho. Inside, I’m lost. Maybe that girl was in danger. Or maybe she’s just playing hard to get. Maybe they’re just horny teenagers sneaking around. Or maybe she sees no choice when a man makes his demands. Maybe her friends would step in if there were any sign of struggle. Or maybe it’s easier for everyone to pretend nothing is wrong. Do the messages of gender equity, self-respect, assertiveness, and decision-making that we strive and sweat to impart drone like a broken record? Maybe. Before we turn the corner for home, we glance back to the group. The girl is again in tow as the boy nears the hedge of bushes thick with confusion. The proximity of such beauty and tragedy is the paradox of modern Lesotho. It confronts us daily in ways that defy simple fixes. And though we’re here to help, it’s not ours to fix. That girl and a thousand others must one day, finally pull away themselves. I just finished reading Barbara Kingsolver’s beautifully provoking novel, The Poisonwood Bible. I highly recommend you pick it up as soon as you can. I’ll end this with a quote that I’ve been unable to escape: The power is in the balance: we are our injuries as much as we are our successes … the balance between loss and salvation. Loss and Salvation.

This was Rivalry Week. And I lost (gruesomely) to my archemeny, uhh, I mean, dear wife. Our Fantasy Football league, called “The Lesotho Prisoners”, has been the weekly stage of all-out warfare for us PCVs, and each week Lauren has kicked serious caboose. Despite the quagmire of bye-weeks and injuries, I was feeling good about the rag-tag crew I started until I woke up this morning to the screen shown here. As part of her Rivalry Trophy, I’m publicly posting this in hail to the Fantasy Football Goddess and tucking my tail between my legs just hoping not to again be the victim of the biggest blowout.

Today Lesotho celebrates Independence Day. I wish we could say we were going out tonight to watch fireworks or having a barbeque with fresh lemonade and juicy watermelon, but such things haven’t ever quite caught on here. Instead, most people are glad enough for a day off of school or work and fill it with normal things like washing clothes or tidying the house; perhaps a few will head to the local bar for an extra beer or game of snooker (just billiards with some pesky new rules), but all in all special attention is hardly paid to the memorial of independence. I even greeted a highschool friend with a high five and said, “Happy Independence Day!” but his reply was, “Yeah, but I’m pretty bored.” None of this is meant to be a critique of Basotho patriotism… just a simple cultural observation. In fact, Basotho are a very culturally proud people and know a great deal about their history—especially that related to the founding of the Basotho nation and the great King Moshoeshoe I (pronounced Mo-shway-shway). To make a long story kind of short, King Moshoeshoe was the local chief of an area about an hour’s walk from our house and steadily rose to power by holding his ground against encroaching rival chiefs. His reputation is one of bravery, shrewdness, and not only beating his enemies but picking off plenty of their cattle as booty. As a result, his influence quickly grew around the area. But it was a competitive time to be an ambitious chief; but in spite of a surplus of challengers Moshoeshoe’s statesmanship and even kindness to those he defeated increased both his power and his wealth. Before long, the many tribes represented atop his mountain stronghold, Thaba Bosiu (Mountain of Night), started calling themselves Basotho people, united under their proud leader. So, that’s before independence and that’s the legend that every kid can recount scrambling up a boulder, their own Thaba Bosiu. The rest is mainly a story of survival. Moshoeshoe’s focus quickly shifted from contending with chiefs to holding off the colonizing Dutch and white Boers that had advanced through most of South Africa. In 1868, on the verge of going down, he appealed a to a few powerful British friends for protection and before nightfall Basotholand was a protectorate of the British Empire—an enclave that is now literally a country within a country. For almost 100 years Lesotho (as it came to be called) enjoyed successive kings and a decent amount of autonomy, leading many to crave all-out independence. King Moshoeshoe II was charged by the powers that be to set up a Parliament à la Britain, form political parties and write a constitution. It took several drafts over several years, but finally, on October 4th 1966, Lesotho was independent. Sorry for rambling too long on the history, but I think it’s a great story. Unfortunately, plenty of unrest, power struggles and corruption have plagued the young nation, which has translated into political frustration on the behalf of most of its citizens. Despite several levels of local government, people don’t feel their opinions and needs are well represented and pretty much remain apathetic. Or, as someone recently put it more frankly, “Politicians in the Lesotho government eat money for dinner.” In addition, Lesotho has always leaned heavily on successful big brother South Africa for a lifeline of goods, jobs, food, technology—well, just about everything we buy at the market. Sometimes whispered rumors creep up of Lesotho even merging as a part of South Africa (though, practically, this would do very little to benefit either party). From an outside perspective, I can see why this day is a little lack-luster, maybe why people would rather recount the days of old King Moshoeshoe and break out the traditional dance moves on cultural holidays while leaving the dirty laundry for their Independence day-off. I keep searching for some sort of national tradition, but it looks like I’ll have to be content to split a beer and snooker game with my friends and avoid bringing up politics.

“u ka tsuba, u ka taoa, u ntso le tsoaebana ea ka” - Translation:  Maybe you smoke, Maybe you’re a drunk,  But you’re still my little concubine.  …quite a handy little song that I overheard a school teacher humming the other day. 

“Whenever you feel like criticising anyone … just remember that all the people in the world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had. Reserving judgments is a matter of infinite hope.” - The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald I’d like to be a lot more like that.

http://braceletofhope.ca/: Check out my YouTube debut! Who knew I’d need a flair for video editing in a rural village in Lesotho? It certainly isn’t as nice as working in a cutting-edge edit suite in Atlanta and occasionally I’d have to take breaks to chase grazing cows away from our garden, but it was certainly fun to fiddle around with technology again. The video on this link is a short introduction to a beekeeping project that Lauren has helped a local youth club start. A Canadian organization called Bracelet of Hope is sponsoring the youth as part of an initiative to encourage income generating activities (IGAs) and entrepreneurship. In the video is our friend Andy, Bracelet of Hope’s representative; our great friend Adam Peel, a fellow PCV; Lauren; and, of course, members the youth group.  We hope to get more footage of the beekeepers in action and put together a longer video soon. Enjoy!

The first blooms on the peach tree out front. Spring’s a comin’!!

If leaving a country the first time is hard, leaving it a second time is harder. Matt and I are back in Lesotho and trying to jump back into our work here. Not eager to get back to the pressure of expectant eyes and frustrations of flawed planning, we’ve been tempted to let be those still unaware of our return to Lesotho and try to ease into some areas of life here. We’re not regretting coming back; this “re-transition” is just a very real part of living away from friends and family. During our last few days in America, I found myself contrasting lives; the old one I was revisiting driving down memorable streets in Atlanta and the new one I would soon return to in Lesotho. Being surrounded by dear friends who know us and love us well, and returning to a place in the dead of winter, home to only a few new friends. Eating “hot and fresh now” Krispie Kreme donuts and eating thick, pasty cooked maize meal.  Driving my own car, and sitting in a crammed kombi with a goat under my feet. Spilling out complex words with ease and fluidity followed by understanding laughter, and stumbling over jumbled mismatches only to be met with a very confused frown. It hit me exactly how much we left to be here. But here we are. No banner waiting for us at the airport. No applause getting into a taxi. No, instead I’m asked by a drunken man, “What do you do in Ha Khabo? Are you a mistress?” Oh, I couldn’t get my Sesotho out nearly fast enough. It’s a good thing angry woman ramble is universal. Even with all of this: all the complications, sacrifices, and sadness, this time is precious to us. We can’t even explain it. We really can’t even explain it to ourselves most of the time. But I refuse to miss this. I refuse to let these two years and three months pass by in bitterness and longing for home. When do we ever put ourselves in such discomfort? When do we willingly place ourselves in the path of such incredible growth at so great a cost? 

“For, believe me, the secret of the greatest fruitfulness and the greatest enjoyment of existence is: to live dangerously! Build your cities under Vesuvius! Send your ships into uncharted seas! Live at war with your peers and yourselves…you lovers of knowledge! Soon the age will be past when you could be satisfied to live like shy deer, hidden in the woods!” - Friedrich Nietzsche, The Gay Science What I happened to be reading yesterday—our 1 year anniversary of coming to Lesotho.

If you took a sample of the skills and backgrounds represented in our group of Lesotho PCVs, you’d find a wide variety of expertise: business, agriculture, education, nursing, psychology, radio broadcasting, economics, non-profit work, construction, flight service, and the proud few of us with ever-relevant liberal arts degrees. To the extent possible, Peace Corps staff obviously tries fit PCVs with projects that could utilize these specific skills, although often in unexpected ways. But whatever sector we’re in, whatever projects we’re working on, there is a burden whose relentless presence weighs heavy on every facet of what we do in Lesotho—in fact, on every life we encounter—in a way that few of us have ever experienced: the affliction of HIV/AIDS. Here are some quick stats (from UNAIDS and World Health Organization): At 23% of the population, Lesotho has the third highest HIV prevalence rate (i.e. number of people infected) in the world. Averaging out the annual rates, there are an estimated 63 new infections and 50 AIDS-related deaths in Lesotho every day. The pandemic has left well over 100,000 Lesotho orphans and vulnerable children (OVCs) in its wake. Confronting the pandemic is intimidating and overwhelming. Funerals are a weekly Saturday event throughout every village. Partly due to a gaping hole in its workforce, Lesotho’s economy is painfully stagnant. Family units are jumbled beyond recognition; grandparents, distant relatives, even neighbors, are left to raise OVCs, rarely having means to pay for school fees and provide regular, nutritious meals. Many times children drop out of school in order to care for sick family members and younger siblings, shouldering much of the burden themselves. People are inescapably grouped as either “infected” or “affected”. And these are our next-door neighbors. In a sea of unchangeables, our job as PCVs is to find small ways to gradually shape change. Most of this is done through education in all sectors: HIV transmission, prevention, and effective treatment. One of the biggest struggles is challenging rampant myths, misconceptions and fierce cultural stigma that work directly against progress, such as “It’s impossible to get pregnant or transmit HIV if you have sex standing up” or “Wearing a condom will give you parasites and kidney problems”. Through talking about the facts and candidly answering questions in schools, youth clubs, health clinics, or just private conversations, we’re trying to increase overall awareness and accurate information. It’s a delicate thing to steer uphill around cultural taboos. To coordinate PCV efforts, Volunteers in each district in Lesotho elect District AIDS Representative (DAR). Our previous DAR is finishing his Peace Corps service and soon heading home to New York, and my fellow district-mates have elected me to serve as the new DAR. It’s an honor and a big responsibility. Being a DAR means that I’m a resource to all the Volunteers in Butha-Buthe district for their AIDS-related projects. We hold periodic meetings to share best practices, talk about grant opportunities (like PEPFAR, President Bush’s huge funding initiative to fight AIDS worldwide), and share up-to-date research and information. One of my first goals is to really read up on the recent “Know Your Epidemic” strategy, which focuses on identifying the main drivers of HIV/AIDS specific to a individual country and tailor an intense action plan that directly addresses those issues. Really, I’m just a representative of the great work all my district-mates are doing everyday, but I’m glad to take on the job of helping them in any way I can. Want to help me help them help Basotho? Keep your eyes peeled for any articles or research that would be of interest for battling AIDS in the developing world and send them my way to mddeakin@gmail.com. Like this one: http://www.nytimes.com/2011/05/31/health/31aids.html?pagewanted=2 Peace, m&l

Welcome to what our life is really like… Really, you have no idea how perfect this is.

“Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death, and on those in grave bestowing life!”” -   (Eastern Orthodox Paschal Hymn and Icon of the Resurrection) Savior, teach us so to rise.

Belated birthday pics… one, of the surprise party my co-workers threw for me. The other is of me decked out in birthday gifts: traditional Seshoeshoe apron sewed by a neighbor from Matt, a woven sun-hat from a friend, and an awesome package of American goodies from Mom and Dad! ~L

Even when you’re a volunteer in Africa, even when your work is in the name of service to your fellow man, even when your duties include simply chatting with neighbors… you sometimes find yourself working for the weekend. The weekend for us can mean the chance at a tiny respite from our constant job of integration—a temporary escape from the fishbowl and a ticket to explore the world outside our little village. We don’t (and shouldn’t) get out every weekend, but several recent excursions are worth passing along… from both of us.   April 8-11 - Conquerers of the Drakensbergs!! Map sprawled on the front of a kombi taxi, we pseudo-successfully described to the driver where we wanted to be dropped off. Honestly, we had little idea ourselves—just an estimation from a 1985 topography map. Two hours later, the taxi pulled over on the empty road in the middle of nowhere and we began walking uphill. So started our adventure. The idea was to navigate about 50km through the Drakensberg Mountains in search of the stunning cliffs and spectacular views that create the border between South Africa and Lesotho. The company included Adam (our hilarious, personality-packed friend who serves as a small business volunteer in a nearby town), KB (or Kate, our laid-back, quiet friend serving as the local agriculture genius volunteer in a not-so nearby town), Matt, and me. There’s a thrilling uncertainty when you’re out in nature with just supplies and tools to get you by. Frequently consulting the compass and topography map, we snaked along ridge after ridge, blazing our own trail toward the legendary rock formations and Tegula Falls of Royal Natal National Park. A few times, decently sure of where we were on the map, we would top a ridge and suddenly be taken aback by jutting rock faces and sheer drops of thousands of feet that extended into a view for miles. At 9,000-11,000 feet, we were usually above the cloud line.  The rocky drop-offs helped orient our location and on the second day, we were surprised to actually be near our planned destination. The closer we got to the Park, the more dramatic the terrain became… lush green plateaus inclined rapidly into an odd, ragged dead end, the end of the mountain simply fallen away like a gigantic skateboard ramp. Wispy clouds hit the cliffs like waves and bounced back again, make it impossible to see anything beyond what looked like the end of the world. Tucked in between the ridges was the Tegula River, which flowed to the 2nd highest waterfall in the world. At the top, the clouds enveloped the cliffs and created an eerie white wall as the water plunged over the drop. It was awesome, and a bit chilling. Words do no justice, and our camera was too bulky to pack, so we stole this one from Google, just to give you an idea. The next morning, the skies had cleared and we were able to see the view we came for. Standing near (but not too near) the edge, our small hiking crew looked out over a massive bowl in the midst of steep green mountains. Only then did we get an accurate picture of the sheer cliff faces that supported us. It was surreal, looking miles ahead of us, to think how all of that was there the day before, but completely hidden by the clouds. On the 2-day return hike we followed the remains of an old trail kept up by shepherds, thinking most of the adventure was behind us. But after climbing the first ridge, we saw a strange pack of large animals running into the next valley. Their gait was unmistakable: baboons. Excited and a little nervous (boys with mace and rape whistle in hand) we edged our way around the ridgeline, being sure to keep a safe distance from the notoriously vicious monkeys beneath us. Cold nights, colder wind, blisters, and even running out of propane for our camp stove hardly cast a shadow on such inspiring views and African encounters.  After our last, grueling ascent, it was appropriately announced: “We conquered the Drakensbergs!”   April 16-17 – Bloemfontein Bloem is a mid-sized South African city and a well-known getaway to “civilization” for Lesotho PCVs. Despite being only a 2 hour taxi ride from the Lesotho border, arriving in Bloem feels a bit like arriving on another planet of shopping malls, manicured lawns, and preciously familiar franchises like McDonald’s and Toys-R-Us. The experience couldn’t have been more different than our previous weekend or more perfectly timed.  After weaving through the dingy downtown taxi rank like old pros, Lauren, I, and two of our good PCV friends began to see what all the fuss was about as we sped by sorely missed treats… [Warning: Anyone near us when we return home will experience similar embarrassing outbursts] “What?!? A REAL coffeeshop… like with real lattes and cappuccinos?” “Did that sign that say Live Music??” “Ahhhhh… Big Macs…. Ahhh…,” “Wow, remember good sushi is?!?” “Man, look how many cars are newer than 1990!” And yes, for a few short days, we indulged in all of the above and felt like Americans—as much as volunteers can afford. We ordered burgers and draft beer, sushi and calamari, took showers, played arcade games at the mall, and shopped for winter boots, art supplies, and a guitar capo. I even caught myself slowly wandering, wide-eyed, through the Tupperware section of a Walmart-ish mega-store without realizing how I got there. Throughout our stay, however, we caught many glimpses of the tense post-Apartheid racial divide that still exists in most of South Africa. Interaction between whites and blacks is noticeably avoided or when necessary, is definitely curt and irritated. Naturally, we were often assumed to be Afrikaners but when addressed in a language other than English, people were shocked that we didn’t understand a word of Afrikaans (the white language), and could instead follow a conversation in Sesotho (the black language). The highlight of our trip was the Sunday soccer match between the Bloem Celtics and the Free State Stars, two of South Africa’s Premier League teams. Afrikaners cautioned us against going to “the shady side of town without a tazer” for a game in which we were sure to be the only white people in attendance. As soon as we rounded the corner for the stadium onto a busy street crowded with rowdy fans, we looked at each other and someone said, “I kinda feel more at home here, actually.” We were indeed the only white folk there, but after exchanging plenty of high-fives and cheering the Celtics to a 1-0 victory, we were welcomed into an overcrowded pub for a celebratory drink… in Sesotho.

“Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a great battle.” - …attributed to Philo and a fresh reminder from the book I’m reading, “Einstein’s God”.

…you’re woken up in the middle of the night by a crash only to find a snake clumsily exploring your bedside table.  With the skilled use of an oven mitt, a broom handle, and Lauren’s Parseltongue abilities, we shooed him through the door and into the front yard and went back to sleep.

[Brace yourselves, this turned out to be a long one…] If you’ve been following the blog for the past few months, you can piece together a decent little glimpse of our life here. But in addition to cultural integration, gardening, vacations, and language learning, we also do a good bit of work. We thought it might be time to give an update on some of our projects… which have actually been going pretty well in the past weeks.   Lauren: After months of Matt asking me to write something for the blog, I finally realized my laziness and obliged. It’s a little scary to have so many people reading what I write, but then I remember it’s all my friends and family that I love dearly, and would be glad to give y’all a bit more “Lauren specific” information. Here goes… So far my work here has been divided into three main areas: working with support groups, strengthening and establishing youth groups, and developing a community library. Support groups: many of you may be thinking a group of encircled chairs with a tissue box in the middle of the room but actually, support groups here are local community organizations made up of adult men and women who care for orphans and the ill in their villages. My experience so far tells me that it’s both a good and bad way that government aid has been haphazardly decentralized to communities. It’s good in that community members are helping and healing their own friends and family. People are depending less on the government to solve their problems and turning instead to those near them. However, support groups are generally disorganized and rife with convoluted village politics. Some members are simply in it for the occasional kickbacks, some members because it seems like a nice thing to do but lack the motivation and vision to carry out well-planned projects, but most, thankfully, truly want to see the community healed and cared for. The long term vision for these groups is to help them establish organizational guidelines and form a means for sustainable financial independence. Initially, my supervisor and I have put together a support group representative committee. The committee is scheduled to meet once a month and it’s hoped that members will act as liaisons between their respective support groups and the local government office. Our first meeting had a good showing from the 11 electoral divisions and focused on information gathering. The representatives were assigned a small survey to assess each other their support groups. The goal was to measure the strengths and weaknesses of each group in order to prioritize needs and develop a preliminary action plan. I have three good guesses what the surveys will find but the point is also to teach these representatives how to compile information in an organized manner and respond to documented, agreed upon needs. So far it seems, the trick with working with these groups, as well as most things in third world countries, is that an infrastructure has to first be established before real responses can be put into action. Unfortunately for the infrastructure builder, it feels like a lot of planning and spinning wheels and not much doing or going places. The second meeting will hopefully be a chance to review the information the representatives have found and vote on initial goals. Then, while we’ll be working toward meeting those first goals, which will most likely entail starting a sustainable income generating activity, there is the possibility of attempting a mass community census. It’s certainly a brave undertaking and, in all honesty, is expected to be only mildly successful, but you’ve got to start somewhere. The hope is to get crude data on the rates of poverty, unemployment, number of OVC (Orphans and Vulnerable Children), and HIV/AIDS data in the Menkhoaneng C05 area. Regarding HIV/AIDS, we’d like to know 1) the number of family members that are at risk for being positive (for example, a wife whose husband works in the mines in South Africa since migratory workers are at high risk for contracting HIV), 2) those who know their status, and if positive, are, or are not receiving medication, and, 3) those who don’t know their status. Personally, it’s pretty overwhelming to put all this in one paragraph, but I guess that’s why I still have another year and a half to go. Youth groups: As I’ve said many many times in passing conversations “Ke sebesta le council ho qala hape ho matlafatsa mekhatlo ea bacha.” Watch out for the q in qala, it’s a click. :) In Sesotho that’s, “I’m working with the council to start and strengthen youth groups.” . Again, the name of the game with the youth groups, which are exactly what they sound like, groups of youth, is organizational capacity building and facilitating independence. Youth in Lesotho is considered to be about 18 – 30 or so. It is certainly an age bracket in need of attention. Elementary school in Lesotho is free, but middle and high school are not. Thus, there are a large number of young people, undereducated, but too poor to go to school. Furthermore, University can also be free, but you must score a certain level on your final exams in order to be accepted. If you don’t get a desired score, you have to pay to take classes and your exams again, or you’re dead in the water without much hope of getting a job. So again, there is a group of young people in employment limbo. They have finished school, and thus have lost the attention of their family and community who are now focusing on younger children, but cannot continue their education. Some of them may be able to find jobs teaching at private schools, or, if their English is good enough, may find a government job, however, most of them are left to flounder in stagnant waters. As is common all over the world, floundering and a loss of purpose is usually tied to risky behaviors. Enter inspired Peace Corps Volunteer to instill a sense of purpose and motivation within these youth. My work so far with the youth groups has been teaching them how to establish group positions, duties, and bylaws. Then the plan moves to either teaching them 1) business and work skills in order to prepare them for a small IGA (income generating activity) or 2) HIV/AIDS prevention and mitigation information so they can begin to work in community.  For the most part, many of them just need something to do, something to talk about, but with 6 active groups that I meet with weekly and then my other projects, I hardly have the amount of time I would love to give them. The Community Library: This is the most exciting project for me. Mainly because it’s such new territory for me, I’m learning so much, and really have to problem-solve within the context of a rural African community. Really I could fill a whole page and more writing about my work with starting the library, but, in fear of the you readers never wanting to hear from long-winded-me again, I think I’ll save talking about the library until our next entry. In fact, I’m thinking of posing some of my most difficult problems to solve and see what suggestions you may have in return.     Matt: One of my main projects with an agricultural vocational school has been a rollercoaster. It’s a brand new school that wasn’t started with much thought given to some critical issues—like teachers or curriculum. The first class was 5 boys in their early 20s and mostly from very poor rural homes, all hoping to get a leg up on their future. For the 6 months I’ve been working here, I’ve struggled to even know where to start to help this school get some kind of proper structure, but a priority has been to help these 5 guys respectably finish up their guinea-pig-esque education. Hands-on experience is an essential part of vocational training but all the unorganized internship ideas were dying slow, painful deaths. But after talking with a close PCV neighbor, Juliana, about the garden clubs she is starting up in local schools, our projects began to look very complimentary. We decided to team up and arrange a few days for my students to meet with her schools and be trained on how to lead a school garden club meeting. After a couple of meetings, these 5 guys were leading needs assessments for seeds and gardening tools, helping Juliana bridge the difficult language gap, helping the club think about their goals, giving planting advice, and literally getting their hands dirty using their ag expertise. This past week marked a huge accomplishment and confirmed to me that struggle bears fruit. The well-funded organization that is supporting these garden clubs and working closely with Juliana, took note of how well these guys worked with the schools and offered 2 part-time paid positions. We set up a real-world job interviews, first a preliminary one with only Juliana and myself, and then one with the organization’s manager. We had 5 nervous wreaks, but ones that showed up on time, took the interviews seriously, and backed up their knowledge and skills well. This past Sunday, two of the guys were hired. And even though it’s currently part-time, it’s a huge deal—for their families’ financial needs, for their own careers, for their self-confidence. And there’s a good chance that these can turn into full-time, full-fledged jobs if they continue to work hard. As for the ones not hired, it’s a bit of a disappointment, but they seemed sincerely happy for their peers and definitely heartened that finding a good job is indeed possible with their skills. As for the school, much is still in shambles. We continue to work on one simple move at a time, building a solid institution from the ground up. I look at what just happened and think that if a couple guys’ livelihoods can be changed from what little we had to work with, then let’s keep going.  Thanks for reading. Much love. m&l

“The truth is that I fall in love so easily because it’s easy. It happens a dozen times some days. I’ve lived whole lives, had children, grown old, and died in the arms of other women in no more time than it takes the 2-train to get from City Hall to Brooklyn, which always brings me back to you: the only one I fall in love with at least once everyday - not because there are no other lovely women in the world but because each time, dying in their arms I call your name.” - “Falling” by Patrick Phillips Thanks, Cameron, for passing thing along to me. Happy Valentine’s Day

Me: Ntate (aka Sir), how are you? It's been raining so much! Everything is soggy. Oh... uhm, what exactly are you doing?

Village Elder: Oh, all this mud is ruining the dirt road! I can’t even drive my car out of my compound—it will get stuck! I’m throwing my garbage into the road to block all the water from running down.

Me: But won’t the plastic just get washed away with the next rain?

Village Elder: Maybe so. But I don’t know what else to do.

Me: Ntate, I think I might see why it's especially muddy by your house. It could be easy to fix.

Village Elder: What are you thinking?

Me: You see how the water follows this small ditch as a gutter alongside the road?

Village Elder: Yes, they tried to repair the road a couple years ago and they dug the ditch to catch some of the rain.

Me: Well, your driveway totally blocks the ditch right here and causes the water to run across the road. What if you bought a couple meters of pipe and continued the drain under your driveway? You would just have to dig up the dirt, install the pipe, and cover it again.

Village Elder: Who, me? I should buy the pipe and put it in?!? This is a community road and it’s the government’s responsibility to maintain the it! They are just so corrupt—they hide all the money that should be used to help the people!

Me: But it looks like your driveway is near your property. It would really make your property better.

Village Elder: But the problem is the muddy road!

Me: You said you wanted to drive your car, and just a simple pipe might help you keep the water away from where you need to drive.

Village Elder: Well, there are taxis I will ride for now until the rain stops or until the government does their job. Who knows when I will be able to drive my own car again. These roads are unacceptable.

Me: [under my breath, walking away] Seriously? Just buy the damn pipe, spend an hour digging, and do something to help yourself.

Frustrated Point: Indeed, Lesotho has many daunting challenges that are not easily solved or simplified. And initiative, dedication, and capability do exist within Basotho people. And occasionally the government does take a while to solve local problems. But most often, the biggest hindrance to progress is this inclination to pass the buck, to deflect responsibility, to passively criticize—an attitude that will cripple a project before it’s had the chance to succeed. The tricky thing about sustainable development is that it must be community driven, rather our own ideas that would fizzle as soon as we leave. Ever try to break a bad habit…or redefine your mindset? Behavior change is tough for all of us. I guess that’s why we’re here for 2 years. It’s why one of our most important goals is to find motivated and inspired Basotho with whom to work and contribute to their ideas.

Stockings, Christmas trees, and cutout snowflake decorations all seem very out of place when dodging for the shade, wiping my brow of a slimy concoction of sweat and sunscreen. December 25 is right about when summer peaks in the Southern Hemisphere and our surroundings are only getting greener rather than white—acres of fields, barren at our arrival, are now bursting with knee-high maize, and the once gray mountainsides are absolutely lush. It’s so beautiful, it’s just so weird for Christmastime. We realized that even though Christmas remains an important holiday here, there really is no so-called Christmastime or “season”. No month-long Christmas carol playlists, no decorations springing up around town, no crowded shopping push, no parties to attend or candy canes to eat. And despite my efforts to remember the weeks of Advent, Christmas Day really snuck up on us and arrived a bit unconvincingly. The biggest, and most difficult, contrast of course, was being away from all of you… our community, our family. But, don’t worry. Although it didn’t necessarily feel like Christmas, we pulled together a pretty merry celebration in our own style… thanks, in a big way, to the many American packages and indulgences we received from you guys. Those little bits of home that you cram into a cardboard box go a LONG way in helping us feel “normal”. So, in our little 2-room cinderblock house, with a few close friends gathered around, we hung mini-stockings and filled them with sticks of gum, plastic whistles, a few precious Starbursts, and glowsticks. Our Christmas tree was an uprooted peach tree sapling, peach pits colored in all shades of permanent marker for ornaments. I forgot to look up guitar music for Christmas songs, so we all gathered around the Complete Beatles book I had found in the Peace Corps library, and caroled out Yellow Submarine. For presents on Christmas morning, we exchanged what Secret Santa gifts we had managed to find within a spending limit equal to $4.50. And as an extra special Christmas treat, each person claimed a time slot in which to take a warm shower in our newly constructed bathhouse. Well, it’s a small corner that we’ve blocked in with a shower curtain (thanks Mom & Dad!), and a plastic Solar Shower bag hanging over a giant tub. With the convenient little soap shelf I added right before Christmas, it’s pure luxury.  But the most important element to any Peace Corps occasion is good food and we spent the majority of our time preparing some knock-out meals. The menu included Peach Compote French Toast, Shepherd’s Pie, and Honey BBQ Chicken on the grill, but the highlight of it all was Christmas Day. After a Breakfast Casserole with REAL bacon and REAL cheese, we strolled over to the neighbor’s house and captured our Christmas dinner flapping in protest. We slaughtered, plucked, cleaned, stuffed, and roasted our own Lesotho Christmas goose. After many more messy hours of group cooking, the spread on the table was impressive: Goose with pork sausage and apple stuffing, Squash with candied pecans, Mashed Potatoes, Green Bean casserole with fried onions, South African Cabernet, and Chocolate Icebox pie to finish it off. We ate ourselves silly. After Christmas, we joined up with some other PCVs and had our first real vacation outside of Lesotho in Durban, South Africa, a big city on the Indian Ocean. That trip has plenty of stories of it’s own to tell but for now I’ll just say that we also rang in the New Year in style.  Being away from our dear family and friends is one of the biggest downsides to our adventure; around the holidays when thoughts of home crowd our heads, we can find it nearly impossible to justify our reasons for being here. Knowing that the other Volunteers are in the same boat brings some comfort and quickly bonds us as new family. We’re blessed to have such a great group around us in Lesotho. It’s not the same as the warmth and comfort of home, but with a little effort and some creativity, we’re making new memories we’ll never forget and that will get us through homesick moments. And we keep singing to ourselves, “I’ll be home for Christmas… in 2012.” It’s not that far off. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, m&l

M.Ward - One Hundred Million Years My new best friend is a bright blue guitar that was lent to me by another PCV. I play everyday and have been working on learning a bunch of songs. Here’s one of my favorites that I’m trying to nail down. Uncle Dan, wanna help me tab this thing out?

[Flash 10 is required to watch video.]Here’s the final part of our ronduval tour. Like I said, we’re now in a new house… we’ll try to do another tour soon.

So, part 4 of our hut tour is coming soon! (The blog server wouldn’t let me upload all 4 parts in one day). In the meantime, I thought I’d share that World AIDS Day was December 1, and Peace Corps Lesotho held a photo contest. Here’s what I submitted… which also happens to be the WINNING PHOTO!! In Lesotho, talking about sex is uncomfortable,b culturally taboo, and simply avoided. But I’ve been able to establish enough trust with my teenage host brothers that we can talk candidly about it and most importantly about protecting themselves from HIV/AIDS: A-Abstinence, B-Be Faithful, C-Condom Use. This is a demonstration of part C and just a fun shot in general. And it scored me an award of R200 to spend at the grocery store… oh, the little joys of being a PCV.

[Flash 10 is required to watch video.]Even though we’ve moved to our new place, we thought you might like a tour of our old hut… and to see our faces. Be sure to catch all 4 parts.

“The thing about love is, we come alive in bodies not our own.” - -Colum McCann “Let the Great World Spin” Happy 3 years, my love. 

It really is the little things that make it worth being here. This past week, World Vision, who is very active in this area, put on a workshop to teach local community groups about setting specific and measurable goals. I attended with my host organization, Community Farmer’s Association, or COMFA. During tea breaks I intermingled with friends and counterparts I’ve made within the community groups, trying out new Sesotho vocabulary and answering their many questions about America. When it came time to serve the simple catered lunch, I was having one such conversation with a man I’ve gotten to know fairly well over recent weeks and because of too much chitchat, we ended up at the back of the lunch line. I suppose that the World Vision staff were just being polite, but they began to call to me to step out of line and come get some food on the side instead of waiting. I shrugged off the request very nonchalantly and said, “No, no. I’m fine. There’s plenty of food and I’ll wait in line like everyone else. They’ve gotta eat too.” My friend leaned over and with a half-smile said, “You better go up there… they called you to come.” I explained again that I was in no hurry and shouldn’t get extraordinary treatment, plus he was my friend and we’d wait together. Still looking a bit unconvinced and glancing from my white skin to his brown skin, he said, “You’re saying, we’re the same?” I looked back and said matter-of-factly, “Yes. Of course. We’re the same.” He chuckled for a few seconds, shaking his head. “Khotso, man,” he said, using my Sesotho name, “shake my hand.” Yes, it’s important to learn about S.M.A.R.T. goal setting, and to work on organizational development, and to teach careful budgeting… but that 30-second exchange with my friend might be the most worthwhile thing I will do here. 

1. Blanket Fashion – No matter the season, you’ll find traditional Basotho people wrapped in a thick wool blanket approximating a full-body cocoon. But this snazzy (if not a bit stuffy) getup makes a lot of sense for a country with the coldest average temperatures on the continent. When we arrived in the middle of winter in Southern Hemisphere, Lauren even rejoiced that she had finally found her “true people”—folks that get to wear their blankets while out and about. The Basotho blanket we bought usually stays folded at the foot of our bed, representing, for me, clear boundaries to this cultural integration thing. But every now and then, one of us steps outside on the front step, wrapped in the blanket, to the giddy delight and high-pitched cheering of any Basotho neighbor in sight. 2. African Slopes – Staying on the theme of chilly Lesotho, pack your skis if you come visit in the winter. The cold, mountainous district in Mokhotlong is home to AfriSki, which I hear is Africa’s only ski resort (though I admit I have done absolutely no research to back up that claim). I doubt you’d see many native Basotho on the slopes, even despite their warm blanket-suits, and I’m not sure we’ll be visiting either. I’ve heard rumors of the place being a tourist trap, a bit expensive for a PCV budget, and bunny-hill type slopes. Still, it is skiing… in Africa. 3. Dig Right In – This may rank as one of my favorite cultural norms here… and you may call it crass if you wish, but in Lesotho there is absolutely nothing wrong with picking your nose during a face to face conversation, or really any time you have one of those evasive little boogers. It’s accepted for the very normal human activity that it is and, in that respect, we’ve integrated quite well. 4. Make it… a Ginger Beer? – Much of our adjustment to life in Africa has been learning to get along without our normal comforts and indulgences. But there is a shining exception to our simple life… Stoney Ginger Beer, and it’s everywhere. In America, ginger beer can be surprisingly hard to come by, and even then, it’s often hit or miss. To really find some with just the right kick, you usually have to venture to Whole Foods for a $10 four-pack. But, as bizarre as it might seem, walk into any back-village tin shack and you can be sure they’ve got a stock of ice-cold Stoney. As a wise friend put it as he threw one back, “Ahh… hurts so good.” 5. Expensive bookmark – I had a $5 bill left in my wallet when I stepped off the plane. The best use for it now is a bookmark and a conversation starter whenever I’ve pulled out a book to read. People always have a good look at it and ask how much it’s worth here. The answer, depending on the fluctuating exchange rate, is somewhere around 35 Maloti, the currency in Lesotho. The Maloti is based entirely on South African Rand, Lesotho being completely encompassed by and heavily dependent on her only neighbor. So, if you come visit, exchange your money wherever you wish and have about M20 or R20 handy for a good lunch. 6. Basotho English – In Lesotho, the Basotho people speak Sesotho, and we’re still fighting an uphill battle to learn it. But in school, from the 4th grade onward, children are learning English and enjoy practicing it around us. Our host brothers and their friends can hold a pretty fluent conversation, although in a very foreign sounding accent, and almost always throw in a phrase that takes us totally off-guard. For example, when we say hello or goodbye, many people respond, “sure”, actually pronounced, “shoow”, which can be a little confusing. The other night, we were teaching the kids to play Spoons, and the first time our 17-year-old brother collected his 4 cards he stood up and with a loud voice yelled, “I AM NOT AFRAID!!” while violently seizing a spoon from the middle of the table. Another time, after I went to fetch water in a couple 5 gallon buckets, a boy saw me and noted, “Mmhmm, I see you are strong, but not dangerous.” Very true. 7. Good move, W – Regardless of your political leanings, specifically any opinions on the Bush administration (including that of most hippie, liberal PCVs), thanks to George W’s Presidential Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief (PEPFAR), implemented in 2004, Lesotho has received over $80 million for AIDS prevention and relief work over the past 6 years. And we need it here: Lesotho has the 3rd highest HIV/AIDS percentage rate in the world. PEPFAR projects have ranged from huge initiatives that train Ministry of Health and Ministry of Education officials on HIV/AIDS awareness, down to small community-driven projects put on by PCVs such as Healthy Living Camps and giant murals boasting hopeful messages, designed and painted by students learning HIV/AIDS education. Lauren and I are both currently exploring if it’s possible to get PEPFAR funds to carry out some of our own projects. So, thanks George and the American taxpayer… your money is being used right in our community. 8. Handsome Dirt – A point of pride for Basotho culture is the high level of cleanliness. Bathing in a bucket might be a hassle, but most people here do it twice a day. Their houses are spotless, beds made to perfection everyday, dishes and clothes washed as soon as they have a spot. And they don’t stop there. We are awakened many a morning by a brushing sound right outside our front door as our host sister carries on the proud tradition of sweeping the dirt. The dusty yard is kept meticulously in a neat repeating arc pattern of broom strokes. I told my host family if they ever moved to America, they should get a job at the local baseball diamond and take their skills to the Major League level. 9. What’s in a name – Learning people’s names around here usually has an added bonus of studying Sesotho vocabulary. Most names have a direct meaning… like Khothatso literally means “encouragement” or Limpo is “gifts” and so on. But every now and then we meet a Mosela …“tail” or Nja …“dog” and wonder who could be such cruel parents and can’t help but wish the kid luck in middle school. Turns out, there is a cultural explanation: a bad name is believed to ward off evil spirits or ancestors that kill so many young children. A boy named Dog usually means that there was another sibling that died and the parents try to convince the spirits that their other child “is just a dog, not worth taking” so that he will live. Maybe a little superstitious, but apparently, a bad name is a sign of love. 10. Culinar-ily challenged – Last but not least, I’ll talk about food. I will warn everyone now… don’t come to Lesotho to explore an exotic ethnic menu, unless of course you’re interested in sheep intestines and chicken hearts. Every meal is based on Lesotho’s two staple crops, maize and sorghum; when it’s not Papa, cooked mashed maize, for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, it’s Motoho, a sorghum sour porridge that must be drunk right out of a bowl and hard to stomach for most Westerners. Meat is a very special treat and no part of the animal is wasted… even the bones are chewed to relish that tender marrow. I’ve tried my best to show the simplest of recipes that they could afford to make like cinnamon toast and egg salad, but mostly they’ll enjoy a quick taste, compliment my creative cooking and go back in for some more Papa. Lauren is gaining a quick reputation as a chef (pronounced CH-ef locally) for the little samples of pasta or homemade bread she gives out. We’ve planted a garden with a bunch of diverse vegetables (but all found here in Lesotho) and we’re hoping it will encourage our neighbors to try for something besides maize. We’ll see. Peace, m&l

Another weekend, another stop in town, another internet cafe. Hey everyone. It is coooold here. Safe to say, not really the June we’re used to. Our most prized possessions are our longsleeves and down jackets, and we’re perfecting the routine of shedding/adding layers in direct proportion to how much we can soak up the sun. After dark, I sometimes catch a glimpse of the incrediblely star-saturated sky… but even that’s from a 3 foot radius around our gas heater. There hasn’t been snow yet, but plenty of frost is everywhere, including our not-so-insulated tin roof. A few nights ago it was particularly cold and we woke up to a breakfast of cereal and dodging indoor raindrops as the frost melted in the morning sun. Of course, I got one right down the back of the neck. Training continues to keep us busy with Sesotho vocab, HIV/AIDS education, food security information, and observing current Peace Corps Volunteer’s (PCV) projects. Thus far, our ‘M’e has been cooking us delicious meals (except for sardine night), but starting this week, we’ll be responsible for feeding ourselves. Lauren’s excited… I’m nervous. No microwave. Life here is so rich already. We’re bonding with our host family over games of Go Fish, passages of Walt Whitman, and throwing the baseball. They stare when we speak English and correct us kindly when we speak Sesotho. We talk trash and cheer for World Cup games on the radio (insert here choice words about the US-Slovenia game). We hiked up the small mountain peak that our village is built around to watch the sunset. And, of course, we laugh whenever someone’s cornflakes are pelted with a morning frost drop. Wish us luck on week 3. I’ve been hearing some rumors of field trips. Mountains, here we come! We miss everyone and love you! Peace, m&l P.S. In case you didn’t hear, MY SISTER’S GETTING MARRIED! whoohoo. Congrats D.

So, we made it. Four movies and twelve awkward sleeping positions into our nonstop flight from NYC to Jo’burg, I started having some second thoughts, but I’m writing this from an internet cafe in Maseru, Lesotho. We were welcomed to Lesotho by much dancing and singing, and not much has changed since. The PC staff here is both American and Basotho nationals… which we affectionately call ‘m’e (said, may) the word for mother. They already have us singing the Lesotho national anthem and moving our hips in a way most of us find slightly unfamiliar yet also slightly addicting. As they keep promising, we’re “becoming Basotho already”. That’s the plan. We have already started the phase called Community Based Training (CBT), in which we live with a host family in a village outside of the city. With 8 fellow trainees, we got placed in a small village of about 300 people in the foothills of the moutains. Lauren and I have been adopted by the tremedously kind Moqasa (said with a click for the ‘q’ sound). It is, well, basic… bucket showers, kerosene lamps, sleep when its dark-get up when the front yard rooster crows. But, really, it’s wonderful. ‘M’e Malifusto (our host mother) does most of the tasks for us but will slowly start to hand off responsibility during the next 8 weeks, so that we can learn to survive on our own. Meanwhile, we’re learning Sesotho, being trained in PC strategy and policy. Obviously, since we’re only one week in, everything is being slowly introduced, but we really are catching on. I guess the whole “throw them in the deep end and they’ll learn to swim” is starting to work. In short, we’re busy and we’re really happy. We’re way out away from any kind of ammenity, so these blog updates will have to come whenever we’re in town. Training is pretty scheduled out for us, so you may have to wait for some of the juicy details and funny stories until things settle down, but there will be plenty of time for that. And plenty of stories already. Also, we’re trying to figure out how to best upload photos, so bear with us… The World Cup feels so close and yet so far away. We gathered in a well-to-do house yesterday and watched a match on their generator-powered TV. But make no mistake, everywhere we walk we hear “Feel it! It is HERE!” …the national slogan these days. We’re off to grab a bite to eat and some bare essentials before we head out of the city. Peace. m&l

Dearest friends and family, Welcome to our new blog. Within, we hope to regularly transmit tales of a 27-month journey in the mountain kingdom of Lesotho (pronounced lih-SOO-too). We can only imagine what awaits in a hemisphere catty corner to everything we’ve known, but on June 2, we’ll take a deep breath, double-knot our shoelaces, and probably study our packing list for the 205th (but hopefully last) time and step onto the aeroplane. In true Peace Corps style, our assignment all came together in a very rushed manner, so in case any of you are short on details - welp, we’re in the same boat - here is a quick summary of what we’re getting ourselves into: Lauren and I will be Peace Corps Volunteers (PCVs) on a Community Health & Economic Development (CHED) assignment in Lesotho, which is an independent nation completely surrounded by South Africa. Our jobs will most likely include a mix of farming, nutrition & healthcare education, HIV/AIDS prevention, and youth development. So, pretty wide open. The good news is that we’ll spend the first 3 months learning how to do all this and studying the local language of Sesotho (yes, that’s sih-SOO-too). We pray we’ll pass all our training exams and thenceforth be assigned to spend 2 years living and learning in a rural mountain community. We are ridiculously excited. Meanwhile, much is still unknown… minor details of course, like access to electricity, availability of internet/cell phone communication, our housing, etc. Perhaps some gaps will be filled in during a one-day orientation in Philadelphia, but we have a feeling that answers will only come once we arrive in country later this week. We will update you, dear blogreaders, as often as we can. We covet your support, thoughts, prayers, and correspondence, so here’s some info to write down! Current Lesotho mailing address: Matt and/or Lauren Deakin, PCV U.S. Peace Corps P.O. Box 554 Maseru 100 LESOTHO Email: Matt - mddeakin@gmail.com, Lauren - ledeakin@gmail.com Skype: matt.lauren.deakin (it’s a new account, so make sure to add us!) Cell phone: pending… Photos: still deciding between Flickr or just Facebook albums. Suggestions? We’ll be in touch. Peace. Much love, m&l