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
Friday, December 24, 2010
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Do YOU Speak Spinach?
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!
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!
Sunday, November 14, 2010
How do you measure a year?
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
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
Sunday, October 3, 2010
October!
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
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
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
there are no words
What a week it has been.
On Saturday morning, I received one of the most upsetting phone calls I can remember.
This link has a nice slideshow of photos of Tom.
http://edition.cnn.com/2010/WORLD/africa/09/05/lesotho.peace.corps.death/index.html
This article (I feel) is much more accurate, and was released by the Peace Corps.
http://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=resources.media.press.view&news_id=1612
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.
On Saturday morning, I received one of the most upsetting phone calls I can remember.
This link has a nice slideshow of photos of Tom.
http://edition.cnn.com/2010/WORLD/africa/09/05/lesotho.peace.corps.death/index.html
This article (I feel) is much more accurate, and was released by the Peace Corps.
http://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=resources.media.press.view&news_id=1612
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.
Friday, September 3, 2010
September?!
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.
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
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
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
Saturday, August 7, 2010
I made it through the first week!
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
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
First Week of Second Term!
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
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
Friday, July 30, 2010
School Starts WHEN?!
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
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
Monday, July 5, 2010
4th of July!
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
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
AMERICA!!! ... lost to Ghana :(
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
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
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