The Circus

This week the circus came to town. They have elephants, tigers, lions and a lady that holds a big snake. The elephants have been wandering around the city park ripping massive limbs off unspecting trees and munching happily. If someone asked me what the main contributor to deforestation in Lesotho is, this weekend, I would've said elephants. These saggy-bottomed beasts were separated from the crowd via police tape. If we were in the States I might say it was litigation waiting to happen, but here, no prob. My jaw dropped not only because I was viewing wild and majestic creatures but because there was nothing separating me from their dinner plate sized feet.

However, the best part of the circus did not lie in the menagerie of mammals and exotic oversize reptiles. The best part about the circus being in town, is that everyone thinks I'm with it. Over the course of a week a number of enquiries as to my role in the show have cropped up. I've thought about being offended, but the hilarity of the situation supercedes my ego. This week if you are a foreigner in Lesotho, you're assumed to be a carnie worker. Awesome.

WIFE OF MY FATHER'S COWS

Americans tend to use sweet simile’s as terms of endearment. On occasion I have used “honey,” from my Southern friends I’ve been called “sugar,” but as a baked goods fiend I prefer “muffin” no matter how nauseating it may sound. I like sweet things, most people do, I assume this is why we create cute aliases with them. Let’s just say that the terms of endearment in Lesotho caught me a little off guard.
I was incorporating “organic matter” into one of the schools garden plots. This looks like me doing some sort of professional wrestling move with a spade in a downward chopping motion. With much effort I hacked the sunflower stalks to a size that is manageable for my microbe tag team to finish off. I happened to be looking rather sharp because I was wearing my bright red coveralls and white gum boots. Every time this irresistible ensemble hits the runway it is met with much praise from my students, today was no exception. I knew I was in for a day of compliments and special treatment when I was told twice before 8 am that I was wearing “de bee-u-tee-full overall.” I should not have been surprised at the following greeting, but I should know by now to expect the unexpected.

“Ho joang, mosali oa likhomo tsa ntate?”
What?
My typical reply: What? This time I had caught most of the greeting but was thoroughly confused. My student assured me it was a cute and pleasant greeting, however the literal translation is far from my understanding sweetly endearing.
“What’s up, wife of my father’s cows.”
In Lesotho and parts of South Africa there is a precious little tradition called Lobolla. The family of the husband pays the family of the wife… in cows. There is much witty banter that flows from this practice. People will jokingly ask how many cows my hand in marriage requires. I always respond with an outrageous sum and we both laugh. They laugh because it is a normal cultural exchange. I laugh so I don’t cry thinking about women’s worth being equal to cattle. However today I am left trumped and speechless by this supposedly sentimental bovine exchange.