I was reminded of the nicest thing I have heard since arriving in Lesotho. Most of the day today was spent outside in the gardens. The weather has taken its predicted turn for the colder. Morning temperatures this weekend were in the upper thirties. The winter plants are all vulnerable to the pending frosts that will soon start to settle at night. Unfortunately, Palesa, Nthabileng, and I have, for a while, been successful in putting off gathering grasses to use as mulch. So finally I went out today with Ntate Matsitsi and we cut a bunch of grass, talked about mulching methods, and basically enjoyed a beautiful warm day outside.
Later I came back to the mission and did the same thing in my own garden. By four I was finished, the sun was going down and the cool winds were telling me it was time to head home. As I gathered my things I looked down at my hands and was then reminded of the comment Ntate Matsitsi made to me one day. That day Matsitsi grasped my hands turned them over in observation and said, “Heh, Ntate Hlompo(me), your hands are like a farmer's. Our hands are like this because of the rough work.”
I was honored but I had to ask myself why I cared. Many people disdain these types of hands. It conjures negative thoughts of tough labor, brute force, and simplicity. Matsitsi's comment was, however, not meant to be negative at all. It was a refreshing perspective that united rather than alienated me from people in Semonkong.
A stranger in a strange land, to use a warn clichés, is just what I was as soon as I stepped foot in Semonkong. All Peace Corps Volunteers are the same. From whatever background we had in the states, we leave it all behind and start a new life. With that new life comes the tasks of building relationships, trusts, and confidence within that new community. I'll do the same thing when I head home, but there everything is much more subtle.
Matsitsi was too kind in considering me as hard a worker as any local farmer in Semonkong. These men, and women, start very early in the morning walking long distances to arrive at a field they will work in most of the day; many do this before taking their first, or only, meal which is usually later in the evening. I'm no slouch so I pull my weight but going all day without food; No Way. Even worse is Matsitsi telling me of how he would go all day without drinking any water. He would work in the fields and by the end of the day he would be “so very thirsty” he says. Nope, I couldn't work.
These farmers, laborers for their own survival, have my utmost respect. Semonkong is a harsh environment to have a farm and feed a family. The weather is cold, the warm season is short, and the soil is stressed and dry. I know this because I too am trying to grow what I can when I can.
My rough hands are a token of joy. I love growing things. Hard work is nothing to frown about and can be simply rewarding. It also takes up a great deal of time otherwise worryingly in need of filling out here. I also like being able to talk with farmers about their problems in the fields and to know what they are saying first hand because I see it for myself. Their problems aren't necessarily mine but solutions are all our responsibility. So, though Matsitsi is being very generous in his comment, there is a touch of happiness just to be grouped with these farmers for a moment.