FAT BY CHEMICALS

I know that it is a compliment here, but it never ceases to catch me off guard. "Ausi Limpho, you are soooo fat." Thanks. It may be lack for descriptive words in the Sesotho vocabulary or just my luck that I have hips, but wow, as a lady from image-conscious California, having the details of your curves explained daily has been one of the less pleasant aspects of life in Lesotho.
The English that students learn is post-colonial and some of the phrases are less than familiar to my American ears. These can also lend to the agony and hilarity.
One of my fellow PC volunteers came to visit and we had just taken a walk to the village to track down a fowl to sacrifice in honor of T-day. Seeing two white people in the village is a big to-do so a crowd of teenage girls followed us back to my house. They began to comment on the finer points of our figures.

"Ausi Karabo (my friend) she is slender by nature."
We decided that should be the name of a hip-hop single.

My co-worker piped up trying to make a joke out of the bizarre phrase, but I believe that the situation was heightened when she said:

"but you Ausi Limpho, you are fat by chemicals".
Perfect. Now we have a punk band too.

The past six weeks have been a roller coaster of teaching successes and third world dysfunction. Some days the attitudes of my students breaks my heart. There has been so much foreign aide poured into Lesotho that many people (my students included) believe they are entitled to everything but should not have to work. I am doing my best to burst that destructive bubble.
Other days my brilliant baituti (students) understand concepts and make me beam with pride. The school system in Lesotho believes only in wrote memorization for teaching strategies. I taught my students Capture the Flag to demonstrate the concept of competition between species. It was a hit once the rules were finally grasped. Even my token 40 year old went flying through the orchard to retrieve the opposite teams flag.

This week I am in the big smoke for a week of training. I would love to hear from you all while I still have access to the good ol' net.

Rain

The rains have come. I think I can hear seeds germinating when I step outside early in the morning. This week was a school holiday for Independence Day. The quiet was invited to say the least. I share a wall with 10+ girls and they can be rambunctious at best. The night they found the drum I thought my sanity would be pounded out. I do love them though; it really feels like I’m back being an RA in college. The other day the boys at my school stole the girls’ underpants off the clothes line. Ah, pranks that transcend cultural barriers.
Before I started teaching about agriculture and tried my hand with plants, I always wondered what hindered them from growing. Why are my beans not coming up? What is wrong with the tomatoes? My perspective has flipped more to a sense of awe and wonder. The more I explain the finer points on nutrients in the soil, plant diseases, pests, water use the more I am amazed when that little bundle of sheer green joy pops it’s head out of our compacted red clay. Consistently I am impressed by the tenacity of the seed when so much could go wrong. It is a daily inspiration and I hope it remains so.
With the rain comes thunder and lightning storms. They do not cover the expanses that the sheet lightning of NE Montana does, but the force of the thunder rattles my teeth and soul. They're invigorating. Occasionally I'll catch my hair raising off my shoulders into a little halo, I remember it used to stand straight up in my high school welding class. I guess I'm just electrifiable (that's the new word for the day).

SPRING

The day is melting into the same apple-blossom pink that dots our Springy trees here at Bethel. The small agricultural/technical college which I rapidly became a teacher at, is in full bloom, announcing a much anticipated spring. I am falling in love with each of my students as everyday we cross language and cultural barriers and begin to understand one another more as people than as teacher/student. My students range in age from 18 to 40 and just like the U.S. range from bright-eyed and motivated to needs-a-swift-kick-in-the-britches.
The other day as I made my usual trek down to the river to retrieve our little pump, I realized what I was wearing. I looked like a cross between Princess Leia and a plumber. I donned white gum-boots, shin-high, with a flowing skirt I had to hitch up every time I crossed the barb-wire fence. I carried two excessively large pipe wrenches and half of my crazy hair was blowing in the afternoon gale and the other half was confined to a messy braid. Sometimes I’ll stop, mid-pipe wrench twist and think: “Huh, I’m in Africa.”
I’ve spent the last month here at Bethel daily scrambling to plan lessons for my Agro-ecology 1 & 2, Environmental Education and a more impromptu Computer class. I hit the ground running because planting season is upon us so I am dragging my classes around building new compost piles, planting food security gardens, working in the Greenhouse, moving sprinklers and drip lines etc. All the while they say “Me’ Kjessie, we are tired, why do you walk so fast.” Apparently Americans are known for their speedy walk.
I have to remind myself I’ve only been here a month when I get frustrated because I cannot speak the language yet or because the village children still faithfully line up outside my window to watch my daily routine. I have ups and downs, but I figure, it’s the same in the States, some sheer joy moments and some dumpy moments.
If you have some free time or are merely procrastinating work: Bethel Business College and Development Centre can be found on You Tube for what I imagine is a little insight to my world. My parents tell me it’s rather informative. Khotso Mokhotsi (Peace Friends).

Zoo

I am just one day before "swearing in." In P. Corps lingo tomorrow is the day I become official. Last week I went to visit my site for the next two years and was greeted via trial by fire. I am so excited about what is to come, but my task is also daunting. I arrived at Bethel after 4 hours on a paved road and 2 hours on a bumpy snaking dirt road which wound along the deeply carved river. I was informed that the next morning I would begin teaching. What? I am now in charge of curriculum development for Agro-ecology 1 and 2 as well as Environmental Education. My studnets range from 18 to 40 and they are precious thus far. The school is everything I could ever hope for because we have an emphasis on the tangible side of learning, so as the agric. teacher I am also in charge of orchards and a few acres of vegetable gardens and fields. Thus far my favorite character has been the handyman. His name is Zoo and he follows me around asking "Madame, what can I do." He is a few french fries short of a Happy meal and smokes like a raging chimney. He is more willing to help than anyone I've met thus far an I feel will be one of the pieces of the puzzle which will begin to make Bethel feel like home. From here I can see two years of hard work in a place I think I will be happy to call home.

HUMANITY

The other night I was chatting with my Ntate (father), we were sitting next to the fire that my host family uses to cook their enormous cauldrons of papa (maize meal). It was dark and chilly and the full moon lit the courtyard well. We discussed planting times and a little bit about what life is like in America. He asked me "How big is America, from here to TY?" He equated America to about 30 km. I raised my eyebrows and kindly explained that America was about 300 times the size of Lesotho. He clicked his tongue and shook his head "so far ausi (sister), so far." So true N'tate, so true. The diversity one finds in America is truly striking. It is one of the only countries I can think of where you're not yelled at if you're different, let me explain. In Samoa, kids yelled "palangi" at the white girl, in Costa Rica it's gringa and in New Zealand you're still pahkia. Here the stares are endless and "lehooa" is the phrase of choice. There are moments of frustration however there are other moments which make up for it. Again, I was chatting with my N'tate, he was repairing his saddle and speaking to me in English which is a rarity, I passed his language test so he informed that he would sometimes use english. I laughed because for weeks he pretended that he could not understand me just so I would take more initiative to learn the language. His tactics were successful. He looked up from his repairs and said "you know, we are all the same." "Eeeahyah, N'tate" (yep) I replied. "Molimo (God), he has made us all the same." He looked me straight in the eye. Humanity coursed through both of us at that moment and all the miscommunications and language frustrations became worth it in a second of universal understanding.

Thaba-Bosiu

We scrambled up a the rocky slope through a chink in the century old brick wall. Thaba-Bosiu is where the Lesotho's founder is buried and is named "Mountain at Night" because it allegedly grew during the night to ward off enemy attackers. It was good to get some fresh air and shake off all the classroom time we've been putting in. Not only are we learning the language, but we've also had many discussions about gender roles, diversity and HIV. These can be very heavy topic because HIV is rampant and women play a definitively different role than they do in the US. I will comment more on this when I feel more confident about my observations. While walking across a dry field full of deep dongas where top soil is being munched away by erosion I cannot help but reflect on balance. Here, it is such a struggle for existence, it is cold and the conditions harsh. There are few places with electricity and I don't happen to live in one. Every night I study via candlelight and huddle next to my propane heater. Most families don't have the luxury of propane, a wood fire is made in the common room, but the country is so deforested that even wood heat is hard to come by.

Then, there's America. We don't think twice about flipping a switch, hopping in the shower and throwing a load of laundry into the machine. Where is the balance between so much and so little I'd like to know. I imagine I'll keep coming back to this question over the next few years.

After returning from a site visit to the site of a current PC volunteer, I feel a little more in tune with what is to come. I think I'll start out with a little list of cultural Pro's and Con's:
Pro: (though some people think it's a con) Cheap public transportation. I have never been so squished in my life. Even though I did not have the privilege of carrying someone elses child or chicken, I'm told I will. I was definitely sardined between a few other volunteers with our bags piled to the ceiling and loud accordion blaring, hilarious.
Con: Drunken Bo-ntate. That would be a majority of the men that you meet in taxi's, luckily we were not super-harassed, but it was enough. I've decided that I need to learn how to say "I have a fist of rage" in Sesotho and maybe they'll leave me alone. A good question for my language trainer.
Pro: Roundavel's keep in a tremendous amount of heat
Con: Roundavel' s are tiny (Pictured to the left)
Pro: Roundavel' s don't have metal roofs, metal roofs sometimes collect condensation at night and then drip on your face all night. Not that that's EVER happened to me...
I was eye-opening to see the work of a current volunteer, but not altogether encouraging. I am also keeping in mind that the experience is my own. I have a few site prospects, but I'll know more shortly. Sala Hantle (Go well).

NO SAFARI HERE.

This is no National Geographic Africa. There are no Lions chasing wildabeasts. I would search back in my childhood to find description, to those books that start off with "in a land far-far away..." On my way to school in the morning I pass men wrapped in heavy wool blankets perched atop a donkey on their way to the dusty fields. The land is harsh and rocky, with tall aloe plants dotting the landscape. I woke up to a dusting of snow and the condensation on my tin roof dripping onto my sleepy face. Whoa, wake-up call. My Sesotho (the language) is improving with baby steps. I stumble over the clicks and feel generally incompetant most of the time, but we're getting there. My hands are freezing as I'm typing, so I'll sign out for now.

DESTINATION STATION

Lumela! (Pronounced doo-may-la) After a rousing few days in Washington D.C. (the highlight of which were unexpected friends met at a Chinese Food hole in the wall around midnight), I've arrived. The trip was a mish-mash of late flights, lost baggage, and missed planes. The travel culminated in 20 freezing Americans crossing the Lesotho border at 3 am. The best part was that there is a 300 meter strip of "No man's land" on the Lesotho/ South Africa border that must be crossed by foot (or so they tell us). I am willing to bet there were some border guards slapping their thighs as the travel weary foreigners shuffled over the border shaking in the 30 degree weather. I would comment on the incredible sights and sounds but I've been hulled up at a Peace Corps training site doing my best to learn Sesotho, the local language. All my sources and senses say that "the shoe fits." Everyday I'm closer to my village and a pony friend (I'm keeping my fingers crossed).

Travels With Charley?... no Kjessie

Outside an ambitious robin is tracking down a late breakfast and I am soaking up my remaining moments in the approaching Sierra summer sun. I have been saying my farewells to coastal friends and reassuring my family as I read up on the unique mountain kingdom which shall be called home for the next two years.
John Steinbeck is always a good author to have as a companion as one starts on a journey and I find myself drawn back to his book Travels With Charley. He is a kindred vagabond spirit.

"A journey is a person in itself; no two are alike. And all plans, safeguards, policing, and coercion are fruitless. We find after years of struggle that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us. Tour masters, schedules, reservations, brass-bound and inevitable, dash themselves to wreckage on the personality of the trip. Only when this is recognized can the blown-in-the-glass bum relax and go along with it. Only then do the frustrations fall away. In this a journey is like marriage. The certain way to be wrong is to think you control it. I feel better now, having said this, although only those who have experienced it will understand it."----John Steinbeck

Well alright, Mr. Steinbeck, we shall journey on, preparing above all the ability to be flexible.