Cultural Day 2013

On April 11^th my school celebrated Cultural Day.  I had missed the celebration last year since I was away for a Peace Corps workshop so I wasn’t sure what to expect.  In the end I had a lot of fun, ate some great food, and learned more about Basotho culture.  The students all came dressed in traditional Basotho outfits (some were dressed for their presentations).  As you can see blankets are a huge part of Basotho traditional wear.

Usually, I was told, the students wear the very traditional Basotho dress: animal skins.  Back in the day before fabric and Christianity came to Lesotho, Basotho used to wear animal hides.  The school would rent these costumes on Cultural Day and the students would them.  My teachers showed me pictures from previous Cultural Days; the girls are usually topless with an animal skin skirt and the boys where fur.  For whatever reason the school decided against it this year (it might have been because of the weather).  But one of my students did end up wearing the traditional Basotho garment.

 

Food

We required all the students to bring some sort of traditional Basotho food for the day (if you didn’t bring food, you didn’t eat).  Some of these foods Basotho still eat, others they rarely make.

Maize: the staple food of Basotho.  Maize to Basotho is like rice to Asians.

Pumpkin: Both steamed and cooked.  The green item is made with baby pumpkins (still green).

Papa (finely ground maize mixed in boiling water) and greens

Fried Papa

Maize and whole grain mix

Steamed, home-made bread

Dried peaches: Peaches grow everywhere in Lesotho

Fried Maize that was ground: apparently this is travel food

Skits

For the past few weeks, during their Sesotho class, the students have been preparing skits to present on this day.  They show various traditional cultural activities.

When a baby is born the mother is not allowed to leave the house.  On the next full moon the mother invites young people to the house to do various activities.  If the baby is a girl she will invite teenage girls to grind maize (the girl sitting on the ground in the pictures), sweep, and collect water.  If it’s a boy (there was no skit of this) then teenage boys will play with sticks.

Basotho women carry their babies (or in this case stuffed animals) on their backs, supported by many blankets.  This allows them to care for their child while giving them the motility to continue with their daily work.

This skit showed men catching rats in the field.  One set of men scare the rate (which would be found in long grass) towards one side of the field while another set of men wait to catch the rats when they come their way.

Traditional witch doctors are still found in Lesotho.  These girls depict a few scenes where villagers see a witch doctor for various reasons.  The girl in white is the doctor, the girl in orange is her assistant, and the other girl is a customer.

Boys doing a traditional dance.

The Form Bs depicted a traditional wedding.  The girl in the orange blanket is the bride, the boy in the teal and black blanket with a hat is the groom and the boy in the middle is the grandfather conducting the ceremony.  During a traditional wedding the family slaughters a cow and the bile is poured over the new couple to signify their new union.  The cow is then slit evenly between the two families and some of it is eaten.

Back in the day, when a woman was barren, they would have the woman walk around the village carrying a stone on her back.  They would then place the stone in a well and she would have to drink the water from the well.  This was supposed to give her children.

Gum boot dance: many Basotho men go to work in the mines and these boys did a dance commonly done there.  The mine culture is very unique since all the workers come from different countries and therefor have different cultures and languages.  I’ve heard the language spoken in the mine is a combination of all the different host languages.

These boys are showing a traditional sword fight.

And lastly the teachers broke out in song and dance to end the events.

I Bless the Rains Down in Africa

If there’s one thing I can say proudly about my time in the Peace Corps it’s that I have greatly reduced my carbon footprint.  I only use electricity to charge my cell phone and laptop; I do not own a car and I use public transportation or I walk; and I use very little water…well that may not be affecting my carbon footprint but it’s still good for the earth.

Lesotho has an interesting history with water.  Did you know that Lesotho sells water to other countries (Lesotho breaks all stereotypes about Africa)?  I don’t know where the water comes from (neither do any of the locals), nor does anyone know where that money goes.  But Lesotho does have quite a few dams to hold water.  Yet people still complain about water problems…

Water has a strange roll in my life now.  Like any person in the developed world I still drink it, I still cook with it, and I still use it when washing but I am so much more aware of how much water I use.  I have three buckets I use for water in my house: 2 large 20L buckets that I store drinking water in and 1 smaller bucket (maybe 5L) that I fetch washing water with (I will explain why I separate the two in a second).  I know that the drinking bucket will last me about 5 days (more or less depending on the weather) and my washing bucket is more than enough for a good bath and to wash my dishes.  Therefore on a typical weekday I usually only fill my washing bucket once a day.

I am also more aware of where my water comes from.  I take my washing water from rainwater.  My family keeps large, open containers outside to collect rainwater.  I never use this water for drinking because I doubt my host family cleans these containers very often and it’s not uncommon for me to find tiny organisms swimming in the water.  If I did have to drink the water I would boil it and filter it.  I get my drinking water from the ground.  In Lesotho you will commonly see a tap (basically looks like a faucet) bringing water from the ground to us village folks; my family has a hand pump on their property that I use (in other words I’m going to have some nice arms when I get back).  I filter this water since it always has a slight brown color.  Most volunteers use only a single source of water for their nutritional and hygiene needs.  The only reason I started using two is because the hand pump will occasionally bring up water infested with insects or that has a stronger brown color than usual.  During these instances my family will take a wheelbarrow with containers to collect water from a communal tap and I will get my drinking water from that.  Since this water is not as easy to collect we use the rainwater (or the insect infested water) for all our other uses.   There are also other times where our water source “runs out.”  Strangely this always happens when it rains.  It’s not a permanent problem and the water some how comes back by the next morning but having another source of water is always nice.  The other lesson here is to hoard your water when you have it.

But the role of water in the typical Mosotho life doesn’t end there.  Lesotho is a country full of farmers.  Everyone has sheep and cows and everyone grows maize (many Basotho also have smaller gardens where they grow other vegetables but maize is grown in large quantities).  Therefore water is essential for watering the crops and like most of the world, there just never seems to be enough water to go around.  Basotho are always telling me that we need more rain.

Unfortunately when it rains it usually pours and that affects other parts of Lesotho life.  On rainy mornings we get only half of our students.  Most of your students walk quite a distance to come to school and the school will even scold students for letting their parents send them to school when it’s raining.  Students are also extremely worried about dirtying their shoes and books so they will walk to school barefoot for their shoes stay clean.   And in areas where there is a lot of snow fall schools will simply cancel school until students can walk to school.  This is frustrating for me as a teacher since all the students are still responsible for the material I teach on those days yet only half my students are getting the information.

You also have to remember that Lesotho has very few paved roads.  There is literally one paved road that runs through the country.  And this road is full of potholes, uneven, and in general poorly made.  Lesotho is also a hilly, dry country.  What I am trying to say is that when it rains it makes getting places harder.  The dirt here just doesn’t soak up that much water so instead of mud you have large puddles of water.  Places are made without consideration of draining the water so the roads and pathways become flooded and it’s impossible to go anywhere with out traveling through a few inches of water.  And don’t forget that most people have to walk quite a bit before they are able to access a paved road with transportation.  So if it rains people aren’t able to get a lot done; traveling is just too tiresome in the rain.

As for me, I’ve never liked the rain, even in California when pouring constitutes a mild shower.  I like it even less here.  It’s not so bad if I have my rain boots on (assuming they haven’t started leaking).  Because when water, water’s everywhere I’d rather be inside with a good book, a warm blanket, and a cat sleeping on my lap.

Faces of Qhalasi

One of my goals for this year is to update my blog more often. The past few posts have been writing only and I have received a few suggestions to include some pictures for this next post. So what better way to talk about my experience here than to show you some of the faces that surrounds me here in Qhalasi.

I want to start by formally introducing my co-workers. We spend the whole day together, 7:45am to 4:15pm Monday through Friday, almost every week of the year. We are a small staff for a school almost 200 strong. When I came to Qhalasi for the 2012 school year our school was growing. It’s hard to get a full staff picture. The one on the right was taken during the Form C prize giving ceremony and 2 teachers are missing: a science/maths teacher who was away on medical leave and an English/geography teacher who was away on maternity leave. One of the teachers in that picture is also no longer working at this school. The picture on the left was taken at the Morija Cultural Festival where our students competed with other students around the country in traditional dances and games.

The first teacher I want to introduce is my principal, ‘M’e Marelebohile. I’m the third volunteer she’s worked with at the secondary school, and I’m sure she’s worked with many others who have worked in the community. She’s well educated, a mother of 2 boys (both who are doing extremely well in school but not students at Qhalasi), and extremely motivated to get this school to perform better. She teaches English language and Sesotho.





The next teacher is the deputy principal (or vice principal), ‘M’e Mathabo. One thing I really admire about her is that she adopted a girl more the local orphanage who was completely unrelated to her (this is very rare in Lesotho). She’s been at the school for a very long time and teaches religious knowledge/bible.

This is ‘M’e Hape. She’s an English literature and Sesotho teacher. She’s a single mother of two small children (absolutely adorable) and she’s the complete opposite of the stereotypical developing woman. She provides for her small family, she’s independent, and when ever I’m looking for an intellectual, ethical conversation she’s the one I go to.



‘M’e Mamosito is another one of the older teachers and teaches development studies and geography. She had a PCV teacher when she was younger and while she can’t remember what he taught she always has great things to say about him.


‘M’e Mathetha is married to a Xhosa man (the first syllable is clicked and pronounced ko-sa) and is wearing her wedding dress in this picture. Mathetha is actually her last name and she goes by it for the school felt her first name was too difficult to pronounce. There is a small but prominent Xhosa culture in Southern Lesotho but it is more prominent in South Africa. She teaches Agriculture and Biology.



Our business education teacher is ‘M’e Relebohile (or Ma’nyane since she had her daughter). She’s been to America and I love her sense of fashion (though I’m sure I’d never fit in her clothes). She owns an internet café in the camptown.

 
Ntate Majoro is a fellow Science and Maths teacher specializing in Chemistry. He was in an accident about a year back and is still recovering. Fortunately he is no longer wearing his cast but he is still using crutches to move around.



‘M’e Maseisa is a mother of two little girls. Her husband used to be a manager for a local clothing shop but has moved to Maseru to be a manager of a store there. She’s my facebook buddy (only 3 of the teachers have facebook) since we’re always chatting when during staff meetings. She’s also one of the new teachers who came right after me. She teaches English Language and geography.
Ntate Bureng attended Qhalasi Secondary School back in the day and is the only teacher who comes from the community. He joined our school in June last year to replace the other Science/Maths teacher and became a full time teacher with us this year. He has just graduated from LEC (Lesotho College of Education) and had a graduation party at his house to celebrate (that is where the picture is from). He teaches Science (specialized in physics) and Maths.



 

Now to my students. I’m not sure how it started but somehow students started asking me to take their picture. As long as they paid me to have it printed (6 rand in town, about $0.60) I would give them a picture of themselves. I love doing it not only because I love taking pictures but because their picture say so much about them. Sometimes the media paints students from rural areas as demure, with little personality as if their teachers had beat it out of them. But each one of my students have strong opinions and attitudes to match them. Whenever I give them their pictures they always take a deep breath in and show their friend (they always travel in groups) saying, “look how beautiful I am.”

The first few pictures are of my students in uniform. Our school is mostly girls and very few of the boys have asked me to take their pictures (I’m not sure why). Girls are expected to wear a white buttoned shirt, a black sweater with the school emblem, and either a grey dress or grey flannel pants. The boys are expected to wear a similar uniform with a tie that has the school emblem. Both boys and girls wear black socks with red rings and black shoes. The school’s colors are red and black.



I had to include this picture in this post. It’s a picture of the primary school kids who, when the secondary school is having some sort of event, decide not to go to school and sit down and watch us. On this day we were celebrating our graduating students with music and presentations and these students came over to watch. (Don’t get me started on the difference in discipline between primary and secondary schools).

The next few pictures are of students in their private clothes. Sometimes the school has free dress days to raise money (each student pays a rand that day) and other times the students come to my place on holidays or weekends to take a picture. Either way I love seeing what is considered fashionable with Basotho youth. One piece of advice: sunglasses are cool internationally.

These pictures were taken during the Morija Cultural Festival. These students were going to perform a cultural dance. The girls in the front are the dancers and the girls in the back are the singers.

I can’t talk about Qhalasi with out talking about members of the community. To be honest I don’t interact with a lot of people in my village. But sometimes they come to visit my host family or ask me to take a picture (many times they don’t pay for me to print them). This picture is of a young girl in the village with her son in the background. If I remember correctly she told me she was 21.

This is my neighbor Ausi Motseleng (not sure exactly how she spells is). She works in the orphanage in the village and when she’s not working there she lives in the room next to mine.

I absolutely love this picture of my host mother’s brother. He visits every once in a while and once when he visited he asked me to take a photo. It took him months to come back and pick it up!

One of my closest friends in the village, Malebitso. We are exactly the same age (in Lesotho they call us age mates) but sometimes she seems like a little sister. But she was my first friend in my village and was great in integrating me in to my community. She works as the school’s book keeper, secretary, and accountant and she is going to school to become a charted accountant.

Now to family. This first one is a picture of my host parent’s granddaughter and a little boy who lives in the village. She goes to an English medium school and can blabber for hours in English. She comes to Qhalasi during school holidays because her mother works as a nurse in a hospital in Morija and her father has past away.

My host sister, Mathamae. Extremely mature and always with a smile on her face she’s in 11th grade (Form D) in Morija High School (she stays with the daughter mentioned above). Therefore she only comes home during school holidays. She’s not actually my host mother’s daughter. She’s a double orphan (when both parents have passed) and her father was my host mother’s brother (and even then not by birth). After her father passed away she stayed with my host mother’s mother and after she passed away she came to live with my host mother. She’s had a tough life but she’s motivated to get an education and stand on her own two feet.

My other host sister, Kefuoe, is not quite as well rounded, and a bit naughtier than Mathamae but I love her all the same. She took the Form C test last year and failed so she’s repeating Form C in another part of Lesotho while living with her siblings. She’s a distant relative of my host family (still have no idea how) and came to stay with them since Qhalasi has better schools than where she’s from.

My host mother and father with their fifth and final daughter, heading to church. My host family have five well educated and successful daughters, plus others whom they have raised in their family. Their first daughter is a civil engineer in Botswana, the second is the nurse, the third is an accountant working for an NGO, the fourth a mechanical engineer working at a hospital, and the last is getting her masters in human resources. My host parents have a lot to be proud of.

The third daughter

The fourth daughter

Sirens

On Wednesday 23 January (see how Mosotho I’ve become) my friend and I went to Maseru (Lesotho’s capital) to do our mid-service check-up. We left with clean bills of health and since we were both going the same direction we decided to travel together. We got a ride to Mohale’s Hoek (the camptown past me but before her site) in a nice car with AC and a very nice driver. It was me, her, and the driver.
Now I want to preface this by saying that I am fine and that everyone else is also fine. About 10 minutes before we reached my site the driver lost control of the car and we swerved off the road and flipped at least once. The driver was not drunk, there were no potholes in the road.
I was sitting next to driver and by chance I had put on my seat belt. I very rarely wear seat belts in Lesotho not because I don’t want to but simply because there are none or they don’t work. It seems that legally the people sitting in the front seat are supposed to wear seat belts but often times they will put it on when they come to a police stop and take it off as they start driving away. My friend in the back seat had not put hers on.
When the accident happened there were no pedestrians in the area or cars. The accident happened on the main road that goes from Maseru to the southern most districts. So within minutes a motorcyclist stopped and helped us get out of the car. Soon after other people stopped their cars to help us. Our things were scattered all over the area since the car windows had all broken. My friend lost her cell phone in the accident so I called Peace Corps Lesotho. They alerted the police that there were volunteers involved with a car accident and the PC doctor called us saying that he was going to send a car to pick us up and bring us to Maseru. But since Maseru was about a 2 hour drive away one of the people who stopped to help us took us to the Mohale’s Hoek Government clinic. No one called an ambulance; no one called the police.
I had never been inside the Mohale's Hoek clinic until that day. I had passed by it plenty of times when walking in town but I never had a reason to go inside. We walked in to a room that could best be categorized as an ER but consisted of a hallway with benches and a single room with basic medical equipment. They asked the driver to come in to the room first as my friend and I waited. Around that time the Mohale’s Hoek Mounted Police came to the hallway. I had expected them to ask what happened but all they asked was for my name and contact information and that I stop by and make a statement later. After the driver walked out (a few days later I saw one of his friends who told me that he was fine with a minor head injury) they took in my friend. She was having trouble walking and was using a wheelchair because one of her feet was swollen and her other hand was badly cut up. She told me later that the “doctor” (not sure if he was one) insisted she describe her injuries in Sesotho (he may have thought she was Mosotho because she is Black) but did clean up her cuts and wrapped her wrist and ankle. A nurse then came to ask me how I was feeling. I told her I had some minor cuts, my head was hurting and neck felt stiff. She casually gave me a neck massage and started walking away. Earlier I had called my Principal to let her know what happened and she had come to the clinic. As the nurse began to walk away from me she started yelling at her to treat me and the nurse shrugged saying that they didn’t have anymore neck braces but they could clean up my cuts. As I went in to the room I noticed a puddle of blood on the floor that they had not cleaned up yet. And in a country where HIV/AIDS is a major concern I was surprised no one was worried about it.
Peace Corps soon picked us up and took us to a hospital in Maseru with the Peace Corps doctor. In training I used to joke that the building looked like a Mexican restaurant: red bricks and a purple roof. Not to mention that if you didn’t look at the sign carefully (which has a Basotho hat on it) it almost looks like a sombrero (did I mention it’s called Willie’s). The doctor was expecting us and took my friend in to a room with the PC doctor. I waited outside. It first glance the place looked very American; clean, decorated with fake plants. A woman came up to me dressed in a black blouse and black jeans and started taking my blood pressure. She then handed me some pain medicine with out asking me if I was allergic to anything. Since I had no idea what pain medication she was giving me (and frankly I was not in that much pain at that point) I refused to take the pills. Soon after the doctor called me in to the room and by that point they had wheeled my friend somewhere else. The doctor was very good and very patient asking me how I was feeling, how my memory was, and thought that I should get a CT scan in the next few days just to be on the safe side (I later learnt that they did not have a CT scanner at this hospital). He also prescribed a neck massage to help with my neck stiffness and did ask me about my allergies. He then sent me with the previous lady to go to my room. She led me up some stairs and showed me in to a room. It had an ordinary bed, a few chairs, and a night stand. By that point it was past midnight and I immediately went to sleep.
I woke up a few hours later with my head pounding and I was feeling disoriented; I just wanted to see another human being. But I had no idea how to call a nurse. I turned on the light in the room and saw a button by my bed. I pressed it; nothing happened. I pressed it again; nothing happened. I looked outside my room to see an empty space and realized that I just had to calm myself down and go back to sleep; no one was going to come.
At 5:30 the lady (who by now I realized was a nurse) woke me up and said it was time for my bath (did I mention I only got about 4 hours of sleep). She opened a door in my room to show me an elaborate tiled bathroom with a tub, shower, flushing toilet. But I had no overnight items with me and asked her if she had soap and towel. She was able to find a small towel I could wash my face with but that was it. So no bath.
I was brought breakfast and the nurse turned on the TV (yes, there was a TV). But after eating I turned it off and just went back to sleep. The doctor came some time later to see how I was doing. During all this time I had heard nothing about my friend, where she was, or how she was doing. Around this time there was apparently a shift change and there were new nurses all wearing white silky blouses and black skirts. I asked them about my friend and they led me to the X-ray room where they were going to x-ray her hand and leg. Fortunately she had not broken anything. She did have to get some stitches though which the nurse in Mohale’s Hoek had not done. She was also given crutches to help her walk since she was not able to put weight on her foot. The PC doctor had joined us by then, discharged us, and took us to his office. He told us that we needed to go to Maseru hospital to get chest x-rays, CT scans, and ultrasounds.
So there we were, to see a part of Maseru we had never seen before. This hospital also looked very much like America but, as I have realized many times, looks can be deceiving. We went to radiology and went up to a man at the front desk, giving him our paper work from PC. We assumed he’d know the drill since he must have dealt with other volunteers in the past. He told us that they could not do the ultrasound until next Friday since they got their ultrasound tech from Bloemfontein (a large city in South Africa 2 hours from Maseru). He then insisted that we pay even though we insisted that it would be paid for by PC. Frustrated, my friend called PC who then called the man at the desk. At this point (without telling us) he decided to take his lunch break (it was 2 o’clock in the afternoon) and ignored PC’s call (there was no one else at the desk). Finally he did answer the call and took our CTs and X-rays. He gave us CDs with the information (very high tech) and we stayed the night at a bed and breakfast.
Friday PC brought us to the medical office again and we found out that not only were the CDs he gave us reused from something else but that the doctor could not find our scans on them. So we were going to be driven to Bloemfontein to get everything done again. Bloemfontein looks like America. The traffic lights (they call them robots here), the streets, the customer service. We got to the radiology department and the lady at the front desk told us that our doctor had called but he had only specified trauma patients, not volunteers. As my friend and I looked at each other thinking, who’s gonna call this time, the secretary told us that they’d take care of it and gave us paper work to fill out. Efficiently they took us to each station and at the end gave us a CD with all of our scans (this one was not being recycled). We got back to Maseru quite late not sure what to expect that weekend.
On Saturday the PC doctor told us that she was going to look over the scans that day and let us know if anything was wrong. Fortunately everything looked fine. We were able to relax that weekend and get some of our energy back. On Monday the doctor told me that I could go home if I liked. Unfortunately my friend has had to stay in Maseru longer since she is not very mobile.
The reason I share this story is not to concern my readers with my health (which by the way, I am fine) but to share my experience. It was eye opening to me to see what kind of health care most of my students rely on (my teachers are able to afford better health care and often go to Bloemfontein for medical needs) and to see the extremes of medical care in one small area.
I had a friend die a few months back. Rumor has it that she had HIV/AIDS but all I know is that she went to the clinic a few times and even went in for a chest x-ray A few weeks later she passed. She died in her bed, in her village. As far as I know she was never admitted in to a hospital. The experience shocked me and made me realize how different health care is in Lesotho but now I have had a first hand experience with it. And this is coming from a person who was able to afford the bast Lesotho/South Africa could offer. I don't want people to take this entry as a sign that Lesotho's health system doesn't work because that is definitely not what I got out of this experience. As far as I'm concerned I think Lesotho is a very lucky country where at least basic health care is available and affordable. But rather I'd like people to take this as one person's personal account of her experience with the system. I can guarantee one thing though; I will always wear my seat belt (as long as I can).

The Bell Has Rung; Time for School

After two months of really doing absolutely nothing school is finally back in session.  To be honest I wasn't really looking forward to it.  Last year was frustrating and tough partly because I learned that teaching is just not what I want to do in life and partly because I was frustrated with how my students were performing in my class.  School's been open for a week now and I have to admit it feels good to be back in the classroom.
There are a lot of things that make this year very different both for myself and for the school.  For myself I am much more confident as my abilities as a teacher.  For the most part I am teaching the same classes I was teaching last year so I know the curriculum and know where the students struggle and where they get it.  I know the students in my Form B and Form C class since they are almost all the same from last year.  And they know me.  That makes me a lot more comfortable in my class.  So I just have to get to know my Form As.  Last year I put together a library for my school.  It has less than 500 books but if my school makes use of it then I'm willing to expand it.  Already my principal has announced to the students (with out me pushing her) that the library is open and that students can use it during their free periods.  And today I saw her encouraging some of the Form B students to read in class.
Other than the library my school is also working on getting a computer lab.  My principal seems very confident that it will happen this year and has a teacher lined up to teach the classes.  But this being Lesotho we'll see what happens.  This is also the first year my school has Form E (12th grade).  Originally my school only had Forms A-C; last year they added a Form D and now they are in Form E.  It's only 8 students but it's a start.
On a negative note though my school did very badly in the national exams last year.  We had about 50 Form Cs take the exam in October last year.  About 20 passed, and none of them passed with a very high score.  This is unusual for my school and we have a lot of Form Cs repeating this year.  This means that the school is going to have to work hard this year to make sure the same doesn't happen next year.  Bad exam stats means that less students will come to our school so it's important for us to make sure our students do well.
Overall I'm excited for this school year.  It's nice not being "the new girl" anymore and feeling good at what I do.  This time next year I'm going to be back in the US and I have no idea after that.  So I'm going enjoy this last year in Africa with my students.