Celebrity

A few days back, after school had opened, I had gone to town to buy some groceries and take care of other things. I was standing in line at the bank when a random guy comes up to me and says, “’Me Neo!” I could swear I had never seen this guy before and I stood there in shock trying to understand how this random stranger knew my name and that he must be making some mistake. I don’t know how long I stood there dumb-founded but he kept repeating my name as if that would bring me more clarity. Eventually I came out of my trance and he proceeded to ask me for money. I convinced him that I didn’t have any and he went away.

Later that day I took a taxi back to my village stop and was waiting for my ride back to the village to leave. I was waiting with some other women, all who knew exactly who I was. They started by asking me questions which eventually lead to them talking about me as I stood there trying to catch bits and pieces of their conversation. Some men that I had never seen before joined us just as we were about to leave. One of the women from earlier was a younger girl probably around my age or younger. As the men began to question who I was she excitedly answered their questions about me. Finally one of the men asked me, “Do you have a husband?” Now I am very familiar with this question and with much expertise and to the girl’s surprise I replied, “Ha ke na monna;” no, I do not have a husband. The men laughed as one leaned forward and said, “Ha ke na mosali;” I don’t have a wife. But this story is going in to a whole ‘nother topic.

The point of this story is that I get a lot of attention. In general, I stand out. People in the village usually know who I am and to everyone else I’m a curiosity. The funny thing is that there are a lot of Indians in Lesotho. I did not know this coming to Lesotho until I was talking to a ‘Me in my training village. She asked me where I was from (a common question from many Basotho), and I replied that I am from America. She gave me a suspicious look (a common response from many Basotho) and I explained that my parents are from India. Now satisfied with my answer she replied that there were many Indians in Lesotho. I was surprised not only that she knew what Indians were (Most Basotho don’t really have much knowledge of the world outside South Africa) and that they would be in Lesotho. But low and behold, Lesotho is crawling with Indians. Would it surprise you that all the electronic stores and internet cafes in town tend to be owned by them?

But while this factor may seem to cause me to blend in, for the most part is does not. First of all I usually see Indian men around town; the women I have seen are in burquas or salwar kameez. Secondly I see very few of them interacting with Basotho the way I do. I greet the Basotho I have personal interactions with such as the Ntate behind the parcel counter in the grocery store or the ‘Me I always buy my apples from or the Ausi behind the counter at PEP. When I first met these people they asked me where I was living (I assume because I did not interact with them like other Indians) and I replied “Qhalasi” and that I was a teacher there. And since then they always inquire how Qhalasi is and how teaching is going. Thirdly, I don’t think most Indians live in villages, especially ones like Qhalasi. People who live in town consider Qhalsi rural for it is far from the main road. Most people from town would not choose to live there.

In general the Basotho seem to have a positive opinion about Indians. People have told me that Indians are the, “most beautiful of the whites,” that we “make great roti,” and that the schools that have good science and math scores have Indian teachers. And making friends with the store-owning Indians has its perks from discounts to free food (haven’t experienced the last one just yet but I’m crossing my fingers). I should note that other races are not looked upon as favorably. Basotho tend to have a bad opinion of the Chinese because of the abundant businesses they have in Lesotho and that they don’t speak Sesotho or English (I have actually seen some Chinese shop owners speaking Sesotho to their Basotho colleagues). Nigerians and other Africans from other countries are also not looked upon very highly since they take local jobs. But I digress…

The truth is that I get a lot of special treatment for being different. In the village I always get offered the front seat of the car no matter how old another ‘Me may be. In the taxi rank (where taxis wait for passengers) the taxi drivers, assuming I don’t know where I’m going, always check my destination so that they can lead me to the right taxi. When I ask for help people go completely out of their way to help me even for simple requests. Where ever I go I get a lot of attention, good and bad. People know me, they recognize me whether I know them or not. It can be fun sometimes. People randomly stop me, ask my name, and then tell me that they want to be friends. But it can also be a pain in the ass on days you just want to mind your own business and get back home. It’s part of everyday life and I am slowly getting used to it. So here’s to me, the biggest celebrity Qhalsi has had (since the last volunteer anyways).