Snow in September

9-25-08
This past week has been a bit of a whirlwind and I'll do my best to recount it for you all. I just hope it doesn't turn out too disjointed.

Last Wednesday I left Mafeteng to head to Maseru for dinner with Michelle, the head of PSI Lesotho. I arrived in town around noon after catching a hitch with one of PSI/New Start's condom vendors (I know. When I write things like that I think to myself, “Where the hell am I?”) and headed for the Peace Corps office to check email. What I didn't realize was that the COS (Close of Service) Conference for the group of education Volunteers who will be leaving in the next few months and Reconnect (a conference for the CHED Volunteers who have been in Lesotho for a year and are half way through their service) had both ended the night before. This means that at least half of the Peace Corps Volunteers in the country were in Maseru, all fighting for free internet time on four computers. Needless to say I got the “newbies need to get outa here” vibe quickly and scrammed. Plus, I haven't been around that many Americans since I left the states and it was really overwhelming.

I headed to Shoprite and stocked up on goodies (avocados for guacamole, popcorn, peppers, cheese and, of course, chocolate, including REAL M&M's from Fruit and Veg [they don't have the peanut butter kind, though, dang it]) for my visit to Megan's site. Background: Megan, one of my good friends from training, lives in Qacha's Nek (pronounced Kaw-cha's Neck). Qacha's is in the mountains (like, really in the mountains) and the shops there don't have a lot. Last time I'd talked to her on the phone she was eating some kind of rice and bean and corn thing. I was worried. I felt like she really deserved the “care package!” Plus, someone had sent her taco seasoning from home, so we were definitely making Mexican food...she just can't get a hold of peppers or cheese up there.

Anyway, after shopping I headed to the training center where I was spending the night since the T House was booked with COSers. I got to see Nick, one of the Volunteers in my group, for the first time since swearing-in and spent the afternoon hanging out with other Volunteers staying the night in Maseru. Promptly at 7 p.m. the car from Security Unlimited (the security company PC uses) showed up to drive us to Michelle's. Christina (another PCV who works with PSI/New Start and was going to the dinner also) was armed with directions and we were ready to go. The thing about Lesotho, though, is that there aren't street signs or names or house numbers. Directions consist of things like “head north on the paved road, turn left when you see the building with the green roof, take the second fork in the road, my house is at the end of the third hill next to the broken down truck.” So, we got a little lost. It was pretty amusing to us, but the poor driver was getting constant calls on his radio and cell from his boss wondering where he was; apparently there was an emergency somewhere and they needed him to report. But he couldn't just dump us off in the middle of Maseru so he continued driving us around, up and down roads and cursing under his breath. Two calls to Michelle later we found the place and driver was able to get on with his work.

Michelle was incredibly nice and made an awesome dinner! She seemed to really wanted to get to know us and asked for feedback on our work so far, where we saw ourselves fitting in with our branches in the future and told us about some of her goals for the PSI/New Start program in Lesotho. We were also joined at dinner by a RPCV (Returned Peace Corps Volunteer, someone who's completed their service) who served in Burkina Faso and now works for PSI Lesotho and a guy who is in Lesotho on a Fulbright scholarship (who did his undergrad in Grinnell, Iowa...weird!). It was interesting to hear about their experiences of living in Lesotho.

The thing is, I felt really awkward the whole time. It was the first time I've been in a house that could easily exist in America, eating hors d'oeuvres, trying not to clank my fork too loudly on the china, drinking wine out of wine a wine glass, in a really long time. In short: existed in an environment in every way like home. The awkwardness was in no way a reflection on Michelle, she made us feel really comfortable. It was completely a product of being yanked out of everything normal and put in a new world, with no glimpse at the outside, for four months. I realized all of a sudden that everything I've been excited about because it was “American” wasn't really even close. For godssake, I can't even function properly at a dinner party...I caught myself gawking at things several times. This is not good. I mean, what kind of social misfit am I going to be two years from now?

Bright at early (4:30 a.m.) Thursday, after “sleeping” for just three hours on a couch at the training center, I headed to catch the Sprinter to Qacha's Nek. Sprinters look basically like the “short buses” in America and are preferable to taking the actual bus. They cram less people in them and, as such, don't stop as often to pick up more passengers. Since it takes anywhere from 6-10 hours to get to Qacha's from Maseru, the only transport available is the Sprinter that leaves anytime from 5:30-7 a.m. and the bus that leaves shortly after. Six hours, one pee break and close to 15 people standing in the aisle because the seats were full (who cares if that's legal or safe?) later, I arrived in Qacha's. The trip was not nearly as bad as I was expecting as the views were amazing and the ride much shorter than it could have been.

Megan met me on the road and we went immediately to the primary school where she is teaching two days a week. She was teaching her two afternoon classes HIV/AIDS basics, all in English of course. I was really interested to hear what they had to say as, when I am in those sorts of settings with PSI/New Start, I never know what the kids are saying because it's all in Sesotho. Hearing their responses gave me a gauge for what students that age know, and hopefully I can use that to help my PSI/New Start branch tailor their education sessions a bit more...they seem to just throw out the same info, regardless of the age range.

After her classes, we dropped my things at her house and headed into town for grocery shopping. When we came to the top of the hill and saw Qacha's Nek camptown, I was in awe. I'd seen pictures, I'd heard it was amazing, but man, it looks like a little ski town, so beautiful! We hit up the Chinese shops to gather the last of the ingredients needed for our Mexican feast and grabbed mokeyena (mow-kwen-ya...fried dough balls, an amazingly good [not good for you, in any way] traditional Basotho food) at the taxi rank before heading back to her house, spending the night catching up and eating way, way too much food.

Friday, Megan took me back into town and we spent several hours at the Qacha's Nek hospital, which is her host organization. We went on rounds with the doctors, a strange experience...I mean, could you imagine if you were in the hospital and these two random volunteers came in with your doctor and just stood there as you discussed your prognosis? Yeah, confidentiality doesn't mean the same thing here. The doctors aren't Basotho (there was a married couple, both doctors from Nepal, and the other from West Africa) so they speak in English to the nurses who then translate to the patients. Obviously a lot gets lost in translation, even when the doctors are giving instructions to the nurses about what medicines to give patients. With all its problems, it makes you grateful for the health care we have in America.

After touring the hospital, Megan and I walked into town to get lunch. As we were walking to the internet cafe, a Basotho man came up to us and started yelling things in Sesotho. Neither of us could understand him so we just greeted and kept walking. As we passed, the guy whacked Megan across the back of her leg with his herding stick (boys and men who tend animals carry these big wooden sticks, the size of walking sticks). She turned around and started yelling at him but he just stood there. Several school children and a few bo-'m'e and bo-ntate also saw it happen and quickly came to her rescue, getting the guy to leave and watching over us the rest of our walk. It was one of the strangest things I've seen happen, but people told us the guy was “crazy,” so I'm sure it was such a freak occurrence. Nice to see the Basotho have her back, though, a great example of the generous nature of the people here.

Friday afternoon the weather started doing some weird things. In the morning we headed to town in short sleeves and jeans, no need for a coat. Later in the day, though, the clouds rolled in, the wind picked up and it got really cold. Shortly after we got to Megan's house it started raining and was still doing so when we went to sleep. I rolled out of bed around 7 Saturday morning and, hearing no rain, went to the window to see if it was cloudy or not. I was greeted with a thick snowfall, several inches deep. I believe my exact words were, “Megan, have you looked outside yet?” Megan, being from Corpus Christi, Texas, was really excited about the snow. We made a Basotho snowman and snow angels (I'm so glad I had those skills to pass on!) and took copious amounts of pictures. This was serious, dead of Iowa winter, snowfall. In September. We spent the day in the house (not really anywhere to go in that kind of weather here), under lots of blankets, chatting, reading and, yes, eating a lot. There aren't too many people I could be locked in a house with all day long without electricity (i.e. no watching movies) and not want to kill...but we made it. Guess Megan's a good friend. :) Sunday involved watching lots of movies (electricity finally came back on so she could charge her computer at her 'M'e's house) and taking a nice walk with gorgeous views of the snow-capped mountains.

I headed out early Monday morning to go to Quthing (pronounced Coo-ting), about a four-hour trip back in the direction of Mafeteng. I didn't make it in time to get on the Sprinter (you have to get on transportation heading to Maseru and just get off early...no transport from Qacha's ending in Quthing) so I had to take the bus. It wasn't too bad until we stopped in Mount Moorosi for the pee break. The bus was then packed fuller than anything I've ever seen (people standing in the aisles literally couldn't turn or shift), making the trip from my seat near the back to the door in the front arduous. As most of the passengers were heading all the way to Maseru very few got off in Quthing and, being so packed in, couldn't exactly move to let me off. After some maneuvers bordering on acrobatic, I was able to make my way off and catch a 4+1 (local taxi...a car that fits four passengers plus the driver) to my final destination just outside the camptown.

Quthing is quite mountainous and some areas are pretty remote though it is lower than Qacha's. The district doesn't have its own PSI/New Start branch so the Mafeteng office covers it. Some of the staff were in town for the week for outreach so I asked to join for a couple days to get a sense of the difference in HIV/AIDS awareness in remote vs. more urban areas. The staff stayed at a guest house in town but, because I asked to go only the week before, they weren't able to pay for me to stay with them. Instead Clare, an education Volunteer who lives in a village just outside the camptown, was nice enough to let me stay with her. Probably a good thing anyway, it was nice to have the separation and be able to relax at night.

On Tuesday we did outreach at a primary school in a village that cannot be reached by public transport...people here have to either walk (a very long distance) to get to town or hope to catch a lift whenever the very rare private vehicle comes to the area. Our drive involved crossing two small creeks (no bridges) and, for the most part, driving on “paths” rather than roads. I noticed much less of a difference than I expected, though, when it came to the student's knowledge. They seemed a lot shyer than at other schools we've visited, but for the most part, they seemed to know (or, more accurately, not know) the same things as the students in more urban Mafeteng. The school we visited on Wednesday was not quite as remote, as in there was an actual road to drive on to get to it, so the outreach was pretty much the same as I have experienced in the past.

This morning I caught a hitch with the police (amusing) from Quthing to Mohale's Hoek (pronounced Mow-hall-ee's Hook) and then another with some guys going to Bloemfontein, South Africa, from Mohale's Hoek to Mafeteng. Not so bad considering it turned a 2-3 hour trip into about an hour and a half. I restocked at Shoprite, had lunch with Nichol (she's leaving town for the next week on vacation) and have never been happier to see my bed.

So there you have it, a way too detailed account of my adventure in the mountains. Now, I've GOT to get some sleep! :)

9-27-08
I wanted to just write a quick thank you to everyone who's written letters, emails, read and commented here on the blog and sent packages. I can't put into words how much it means to receive your correspondence and goodies from home...it literally makes my week getting mail. And this isn't meant as a guilt trip to those of you who haven't sent anything, I promise! :)

Mafeteng is officially now accepting and sorting mail, so feel free to send stuff to the address to the left. Packages will take about a month to get to me, but that's better than the 2+ it's currently taking through Maseru. Also, I've been warned that the post office won't really sort mail in December, so if you want to send me anything and have me get it before Christmas, I'd suggest mailing it by mid-October.

Again, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU and I send my love to you all!