Yes, I'm excited. My work is mostly looking at what KMA, my host organization is doing, and then making suggestions about how they can do their work easier or better. I can't say I have a list of many successes. If you looked at the amount of time I spend trying to do this the report would be dismal to the rate of change I've seen. That said, KMA's Maseru office is going to start using a Microsoft excel framework I made up almost six months ago.
The idea to create a database of all the farmers KMA works with isn't extreme. The need for more accurate and substantive reporting was something I complained about from the beginning and found that there was no real collection and processing of the enormous amounts of data that KMA created. Crop yields, new farm technology implementation rates and and other information was all filed away mostly written on notebook paper that was fading with disgust because it was forgotten. I made up something simple that first broke down each village to gather information about those smaller areas and then a summary system that created matrix data summaries. That all sounds really ridiculous. Really all I did was allow them to put their collected information into the computer for each farmer, each village, and then to have a complete summary ready for them to report.
Hopefully we can work on this to improve the amount of accurate information KMA can report on, particularly the amount of change they see in their farmers' activities. This all aside, let's presume that KMA will be able to find funding from a donor or evolve into something more sustainable instead of dieing the way of other NGOs without a benefactor. That won't diminish my momentary positive excitement!
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
No I have not gone crazy. It's just quiet and cold, there is no electricity, and I'm sitting out on my porch left with just my imagination !
The Song this blog is most like – Keller Williams = Lizards
Lizard
Everything is affected by the cold and compelled by the sun. The lizard's that seem to masterfully escape the grasp of hungry Basotho are no exception. Over the past year I've come to know three that live in/near my house; two medium sized and one smaller lizard, maybe a recent addition to a family. One in particular caught my attention repeatedly because it lost its tail about six months ago.
To Basotho this 'snake' (since everything scary and foreign takes on a snake like form—note to avoid scary personal attitude for the remainder of my stay) is even more mysterious and scary. Skittishly, the adults watch this deformed creature scuttle away with a frown of disgust. The kids, with more of a curious eye but a similarly unknowing fear, watch more closely. No one understands when I try to explain how the lizards aren't snakes, firstly, and second, that the tail will grow back. The permanence of change and destruction doesn't allow for conceptual understanding of re-creation quit yet. I'm not sure what that even means when I write it!
Seriously, just today while I'm writing our lizard came out again to bath in the sun, a habit both Basotho and lizards enjoy. She came out with an inch and a half stub of a tail (I gave this lizard a feminine persona because of her glittery turquoise pink orange color that shimmers in the sun but I do yield that it could equally be a guy too; whatever nature). Still not the original length, the tail gave distinct positive proof. Now I'm just wondering if everyone will just say it's a different lizard and not the same ole' girl.
The Song this blog is most like – Keller Williams = Lizards
Lizard
Everything is affected by the cold and compelled by the sun. The lizard's that seem to masterfully escape the grasp of hungry Basotho are no exception. Over the past year I've come to know three that live in/near my house; two medium sized and one smaller lizard, maybe a recent addition to a family. One in particular caught my attention repeatedly because it lost its tail about six months ago.
To Basotho this 'snake' (since everything scary and foreign takes on a snake like form—note to avoid scary personal attitude for the remainder of my stay) is even more mysterious and scary. Skittishly, the adults watch this deformed creature scuttle away with a frown of disgust. The kids, with more of a curious eye but a similarly unknowing fear, watch more closely. No one understands when I try to explain how the lizards aren't snakes, firstly, and second, that the tail will grow back. The permanence of change and destruction doesn't allow for conceptual understanding of re-creation quit yet. I'm not sure what that even means when I write it!
Seriously, just today while I'm writing our lizard came out again to bath in the sun, a habit both Basotho and lizards enjoy. She came out with an inch and a half stub of a tail (I gave this lizard a feminine persona because of her glittery turquoise pink orange color that shimmers in the sun but I do yield that it could equally be a guy too; whatever nature). Still not the original length, the tail gave distinct positive proof. Now I'm just wondering if everyone will just say it's a different lizard and not the same ole' girl.
I finally made it back from Maseru today (Thursday, July 16). The bus ride was like all others. I got to the bus stop at 9:30am to get in line for the 2pm bus (gotta be sure to get a seat if I have to ride for 4+hours).
Once I put my stuff on the bus and saved a seat, I headed out through the rank and took pictures. Everybody loved posing. I did have a few people who were afraid because there are some who still think the camera can steal your soul. I've got no way of arguing otherwise so I didn't debate that one.
Back on the bus, my neighbor was an older guy from a village half way between Semonkong and Maseru. Older guys are always interesting and humorous because of the older traditions and thoughts mixed with my modern/foreign perspectives. A bit out of no where, he offered me two cows to marry one of his daughters. I told him that was very generous and asked if he could throw in a third one jokingly. He replied positively but asked if I didn't mind a female. “Cow?” I joked but he didn't pay any attention to my non-businesslike attitude.
Realizing he was partially not kidding I tried to get out of this conversation by asking how many sheep this should include to which he wanted me to throw out a number. Um. . . did we start talking lebola already?! (Lebola is the bride price—fanciness for bribe—to be paid to the family of the bride but I guess that switches when you are trying to buy a foreigner!) I told the guy I would need a hundred sheep on top of the three cows to which he scoffed. Don't ask if you don't want the answer and don't offer a number if you aren't prepared to agree! He didn't agree to a hundred sheep though I told him this is the only way to ensure success of the family! I still felt like I could joke at this point and he finally lightened up. The conversation naturally died and went on to talk with others around him about such prices!
I suppose he is still considering it. I'll let you know if I will need help shipping a couple cows, some sheep, and a wife back to the States!
Once I put my stuff on the bus and saved a seat, I headed out through the rank and took pictures. Everybody loved posing. I did have a few people who were afraid because there are some who still think the camera can steal your soul. I've got no way of arguing otherwise so I didn't debate that one.
Back on the bus, my neighbor was an older guy from a village half way between Semonkong and Maseru. Older guys are always interesting and humorous because of the older traditions and thoughts mixed with my modern/foreign perspectives. A bit out of no where, he offered me two cows to marry one of his daughters. I told him that was very generous and asked if he could throw in a third one jokingly. He replied positively but asked if I didn't mind a female. “Cow?” I joked but he didn't pay any attention to my non-businesslike attitude.
Realizing he was partially not kidding I tried to get out of this conversation by asking how many sheep this should include to which he wanted me to throw out a number. Um. . . did we start talking lebola already?! (Lebola is the bride price—fanciness for bribe—to be paid to the family of the bride but I guess that switches when you are trying to buy a foreigner!) I told the guy I would need a hundred sheep on top of the three cows to which he scoffed. Don't ask if you don't want the answer and don't offer a number if you aren't prepared to agree! He didn't agree to a hundred sheep though I told him this is the only way to ensure success of the family! I still felt like I could joke at this point and he finally lightened up. The conversation naturally died and went on to talk with others around him about such prices!
I suppose he is still considering it. I'll let you know if I will need help shipping a couple cows, some sheep, and a wife back to the States!
The Dentist.
I went to the dentist today and I've never known a dentist to be so excited about the work someone has had on their teeth. This guy really must love teeth and his job. Dr. Telejane is the dentist and his assistant is Me' Masoliso who has worked with the Dr. for 23 years; almost as long as I've been alive. This last bit of information I kept to myself, of course! In the beginning I mistook her to be my dentist (Dr. is one of those androgynous titles). She was flattered but corrected me and asked me to sit and wait for the doctor.
In no time at all the doctor arrived. A short man, about my height or shorter came in. He had a good size weight on him that made him seem healthy but not skinny. His lighter complexion first lead me to believe he was just a light colored masotho though I was later thrown for a loop when someone mentioned they thought he was Indian. Either way, this old guy was pretty funny.
He didn't make much small talk but went straight for the jokes.
“How many sheep do you have up there in Semonkong?
Do all your wives get along?
Do you find it hard to feed all those kids you must have up there?”
This guy was out of control. All these questions were interspersed among actual medical questions.
“Are you having any problems, sensitive teeth, pain, bleeding,” the usual questions, right?!
Taking his first look he was so surprised. Now if you don't know me then prepare your self for a short dental background. You've been warned, something I was not ready to relive when Dr. T ask his assistant to come over a take a look for herself.
“Me' Masoliso, come take a look! You won't see this again!”
I took them everything.
1) Since two I've had thin enamel which continues into my adulthood giving me sensitive teeth.
2) I had braces for five years.
3) I had several dental surgeries, a few which still amaze me today when I smile!
4) I still have and use my wisdom teeth. (the Museum of Natural History will be contacting me soon about their missing link to human evolution exhibit, I can feel it)
5) I'm missing two lower molars.
6) I have two extra top eye teeth.
Please, keep all your comments to yourself! I got enough teeth talk and a strong freak complex from Dr. T. Through all of this I was laying in the chair, my mouth open and my eyes scanning these two faces looking back, not at me, but my teeth. Dr. T started to explain something about how 'normal' people have 32 teeth that come in but the wisdom teeth usually come out. I, however, have 30 teeth that all fit. Then he tried to wrap that all into some thought about evolution. Twice I tried to follow what he was saying but failed to capture what he meant exactly. Anyway, the rest of the time he spent cleaning my teeth and talking about all this with his assistant like I wasn't there. At least he didn't insist on talking to me with all that stuff in my mouth.
As he finished up my chart I noticed that he was the first Masotho I ever noticed who was left handed. I joked with him how there are some cultures were people can't be left handed because it's disrespectful; that's your dirty hand, I told him. I don't think anyone has ever laughed so much as he did; joshing with me and calling Me' back over to join in the joking. I like to think I have contributed to the next person's dental experience from that last little exchange!
PS: Thank you Mom and Dad! Yes, there are people out there who can admire all the time and money put in these pearly whites! Love you!
In no time at all the doctor arrived. A short man, about my height or shorter came in. He had a good size weight on him that made him seem healthy but not skinny. His lighter complexion first lead me to believe he was just a light colored masotho though I was later thrown for a loop when someone mentioned they thought he was Indian. Either way, this old guy was pretty funny.
He didn't make much small talk but went straight for the jokes.
“How many sheep do you have up there in Semonkong?
Do all your wives get along?
Do you find it hard to feed all those kids you must have up there?”
This guy was out of control. All these questions were interspersed among actual medical questions.
“Are you having any problems, sensitive teeth, pain, bleeding,” the usual questions, right?!
Taking his first look he was so surprised. Now if you don't know me then prepare your self for a short dental background. You've been warned, something I was not ready to relive when Dr. T ask his assistant to come over a take a look for herself.
“Me' Masoliso, come take a look! You won't see this again!”
I took them everything.
1) Since two I've had thin enamel which continues into my adulthood giving me sensitive teeth.
2) I had braces for five years.
3) I had several dental surgeries, a few which still amaze me today when I smile!
4) I still have and use my wisdom teeth. (the Museum of Natural History will be contacting me soon about their missing link to human evolution exhibit, I can feel it)
5) I'm missing two lower molars.
6) I have two extra top eye teeth.
Please, keep all your comments to yourself! I got enough teeth talk and a strong freak complex from Dr. T. Through all of this I was laying in the chair, my mouth open and my eyes scanning these two faces looking back, not at me, but my teeth. Dr. T started to explain something about how 'normal' people have 32 teeth that come in but the wisdom teeth usually come out. I, however, have 30 teeth that all fit. Then he tried to wrap that all into some thought about evolution. Twice I tried to follow what he was saying but failed to capture what he meant exactly. Anyway, the rest of the time he spent cleaning my teeth and talking about all this with his assistant like I wasn't there. At least he didn't insist on talking to me with all that stuff in my mouth.
As he finished up my chart I noticed that he was the first Masotho I ever noticed who was left handed. I joked with him how there are some cultures were people can't be left handed because it's disrespectful; that's your dirty hand, I told him. I don't think anyone has ever laughed so much as he did; joshing with me and calling Me' back over to join in the joking. I like to think I have contributed to the next person's dental experience from that last little exchange!
PS: Thank you Mom and Dad! Yes, there are people out there who can admire all the time and money put in these pearly whites! Love you!
A Snow Storm: African Style.
It may become necessary for Ntate Moroosi and I never to work together again when the weather is looking bad. After yesterday (Thursday, July 23) he make it so. The reason we are looking at this like it is a trend is from the first time we were caught in a lightning storm in Ha Moahloli village. This was almost a year ago now and I'm sure I wrote about it on the ole' page already. That wasn't terribly safe hauling ourselves off the mountain and we could see the storm coming.
Yesterday we were out in Polatang village taking measurements of potato production. This was going to be the end of the measurements this week if we could have gotten it in. The day before watched the clouds roll in and the wind picked up, a clear sign that we would get weather. When I woke up yesterday morning the wind had shifted now coming out of the east. Jona, the lodge owner and local weather vein once said that when the wind shifts to an easterly origin the chill gets deeper with the arctic threat of snow. Every time I feel the winds out of that direction its definitely another 10-15 degrees colder. Everyone makes note of that when they see you too!
I dressed extra warm but didn't think we would get any precipitation until that evening with the way the sky looked open and the clouds scattered. My weather predicting abilities are about as bad as my ability to play basketball; mostly inconsistent and dependent on chance. Well just like before when Moroosi and I were caught by a speeding lightning storm this time were caught off guard. The winds were picking up by mid afternoon. All the other farmers were getting chattier as the clouds thickened and the sun took a hiatus. No sooner than 2pm those clouds from the east started dropping flurries. We could watch as the more easterly clouds began to drop the snow whiting out the mountains. Moroosi convinced everyone to pack up and get out of the weather. Everyone didn't need much convincing though since the winds sent the flurries of snow horizontal like pellets into our faces. This was also, unfortunately, the direction we all needed to get back to the village and back to town.
Now, I'm not new to seeing snow. In fact I enjoy the stuff. There's something clean and fresh about how it covers everything taking what was your typical view of the world and disguising that environment. A horizontal blowing snow storm in a treeless, monument-less environment, however, leaves one with little guidance.
We (Ntate Moroosi, four of the Bo-Me, and myself) started back toward the villages when not 100 yards from where we were Ntate Moroosi asks if I know where I'm going. I looked back at him and I could see this 70 year old man—his 10 kg rice Tastic bag he carries like a briefcase, two jackets, two sweaters, and a stocking cap on—covered in snow and still more flurries caking the front of him as the wind blew more. I wasn't much better with snow all down my front. He asked me if I knew where I was going because he felt the women were getting lost. These are women who have lived in this village for years. They had walked back and forth to these fields at least a dozen times each year for 30 plus years. And they are lost. That is how much of a mess it was turning into.
All the usual landmarks were gone. Less than one hundred yards was all we could see if anyone would brave the stinging snow flurries pelleting our faces as we looked for something that would guide our way. I thought he was joking and that everyone was fine. I still knew where I was at and where we were going (roughly south east) but I didn't realize others really were not sure. Trying to calm people down I made a few jokes that didn't work to distract people from their hysteria. Finally the women started to know where they were headed. Moroosi and I parted ways with the women; they left for the village and we headed around the ridge to town.
The weather was still going hard. Now both Moroosi and I were well covered with snow. There were a few people headed out of town back to their own villages. Because Moroosi was still extremely worried about being lost he kept asking these people if we were headed in the right direction. Using a colic, guttural growl for a voice he called out to these people for guidance.
Seeing Moroosi's reaction made me wonder if I under reacted! It was hard to figure where we were going, I must admit. EVERYTHING disappeared; the walking paths were all covered, the mountains either all looked the same or couldn't be seen, the village actually faded into a few indistinguishably spiked thatch houses, and it all looked so similar. Moroosi was completely disoriented until we finally reached the “main road” to the village—a wider dirt path for the pull carts to travel to and from town.
No sooner than we reached the junction of the main road then the skies started to clear and the sun peaked through; an welcomed annoying sight! I don't know what's next but maybe I will just call in sick the next time I have an inkling suspicion about bad weather!
Yesterday we were out in Polatang village taking measurements of potato production. This was going to be the end of the measurements this week if we could have gotten it in. The day before watched the clouds roll in and the wind picked up, a clear sign that we would get weather. When I woke up yesterday morning the wind had shifted now coming out of the east. Jona, the lodge owner and local weather vein once said that when the wind shifts to an easterly origin the chill gets deeper with the arctic threat of snow. Every time I feel the winds out of that direction its definitely another 10-15 degrees colder. Everyone makes note of that when they see you too!
I dressed extra warm but didn't think we would get any precipitation until that evening with the way the sky looked open and the clouds scattered. My weather predicting abilities are about as bad as my ability to play basketball; mostly inconsistent and dependent on chance. Well just like before when Moroosi and I were caught by a speeding lightning storm this time were caught off guard. The winds were picking up by mid afternoon. All the other farmers were getting chattier as the clouds thickened and the sun took a hiatus. No sooner than 2pm those clouds from the east started dropping flurries. We could watch as the more easterly clouds began to drop the snow whiting out the mountains. Moroosi convinced everyone to pack up and get out of the weather. Everyone didn't need much convincing though since the winds sent the flurries of snow horizontal like pellets into our faces. This was also, unfortunately, the direction we all needed to get back to the village and back to town.
Now, I'm not new to seeing snow. In fact I enjoy the stuff. There's something clean and fresh about how it covers everything taking what was your typical view of the world and disguising that environment. A horizontal blowing snow storm in a treeless, monument-less environment, however, leaves one with little guidance.
We (Ntate Moroosi, four of the Bo-Me, and myself) started back toward the villages when not 100 yards from where we were Ntate Moroosi asks if I know where I'm going. I looked back at him and I could see this 70 year old man—his 10 kg rice Tastic bag he carries like a briefcase, two jackets, two sweaters, and a stocking cap on—covered in snow and still more flurries caking the front of him as the wind blew more. I wasn't much better with snow all down my front. He asked me if I knew where I was going because he felt the women were getting lost. These are women who have lived in this village for years. They had walked back and forth to these fields at least a dozen times each year for 30 plus years. And they are lost. That is how much of a mess it was turning into.
All the usual landmarks were gone. Less than one hundred yards was all we could see if anyone would brave the stinging snow flurries pelleting our faces as we looked for something that would guide our way. I thought he was joking and that everyone was fine. I still knew where I was at and where we were going (roughly south east) but I didn't realize others really were not sure. Trying to calm people down I made a few jokes that didn't work to distract people from their hysteria. Finally the women started to know where they were headed. Moroosi and I parted ways with the women; they left for the village and we headed around the ridge to town.
The weather was still going hard. Now both Moroosi and I were well covered with snow. There were a few people headed out of town back to their own villages. Because Moroosi was still extremely worried about being lost he kept asking these people if we were headed in the right direction. Using a colic, guttural growl for a voice he called out to these people for guidance.
Seeing Moroosi's reaction made me wonder if I under reacted! It was hard to figure where we were going, I must admit. EVERYTHING disappeared; the walking paths were all covered, the mountains either all looked the same or couldn't be seen, the village actually faded into a few indistinguishably spiked thatch houses, and it all looked so similar. Moroosi was completely disoriented until we finally reached the “main road” to the village—a wider dirt path for the pull carts to travel to and from town.
No sooner than we reached the junction of the main road then the skies started to clear and the sun peaked through; an welcomed annoying sight! I don't know what's next but maybe I will just call in sick the next time I have an inkling suspicion about bad weather!
Notable Conversations.
Conversations over slaughtered cow are usually notable. It’s a bold statement, I know, and though I risk being too general, I feel I should error on this side. My conversation of note was after returning to Semonkong. My tour around town started with the farm staff for the Mission. They all live just behind my place. These are the guys who get me to milk cows, who I play football (soccer) with during the summer, and who most often make fun of me when they see me acting outrageous—this means when I act typically Foreign (more on that later).
This day I noticed the whole group of guys hangin’ out back so I headed back to say hi and check on them. Everybody was standing around a cow on its back being skinned. Since moving to Lesotho I have been desensitized to the slaughter of animals. The sight doesn’t bother me though the smells can still give me a twinge of regret for coming closer. I came by just to say hi and ended up staying for a bit just because of the randomness of their conversation. It ran from talk about the cow being fat (the skin was thick and soft they all noted and felt—even I had to try it out). We all talked about our favorite way to cook beef which means I talked about the different parts of the cow having different textures and they all thinking I was telling them a story. To continue story time I was asked where we get meat in the States to which I described the commercial structure of a supermarket.
A younger guy whose been working there a while and I’ve come to know, asked me to continue to explain the way guys get a girl in the US. It was only later that I was able to reflect on how humorous that was to explain to a group of farmers this far out and how random that we did it over a dead cow. I’m pretty sure this tops my explanation of how satellites work with a farmer in the middle of no where, Semonkong.
I’ve determined for fact that Peace Corps volunteers live their job every moment of every day they are in service. If it wasn’t for the randomness of these numerous conversations that occur, I wouldn’t be able to count the times I have had a chance to share with someone an aspect of my own world in the US
This day I noticed the whole group of guys hangin’ out back so I headed back to say hi and check on them. Everybody was standing around a cow on its back being skinned. Since moving to Lesotho I have been desensitized to the slaughter of animals. The sight doesn’t bother me though the smells can still give me a twinge of regret for coming closer. I came by just to say hi and ended up staying for a bit just because of the randomness of their conversation. It ran from talk about the cow being fat (the skin was thick and soft they all noted and felt—even I had to try it out). We all talked about our favorite way to cook beef which means I talked about the different parts of the cow having different textures and they all thinking I was telling them a story. To continue story time I was asked where we get meat in the States to which I described the commercial structure of a supermarket.
A younger guy whose been working there a while and I’ve come to know, asked me to continue to explain the way guys get a girl in the US. It was only later that I was able to reflect on how humorous that was to explain to a group of farmers this far out and how random that we did it over a dead cow. I’m pretty sure this tops my explanation of how satellites work with a farmer in the middle of no where, Semonkong.
I’ve determined for fact that Peace Corps volunteers live their job every moment of every day they are in service. If it wasn’t for the randomness of these numerous conversations that occur, I wouldn’t be able to count the times I have had a chance to share with someone an aspect of my own world in the US
No one from my organization is in Semonkong right now. I’ll fill everyone in on the news with that eventually. Instead of worrying I spent yesterday greeting everyone again. More or less I wanted to make sure they didn’t think I left/was dead. You know how rumors can circulate in a small town especially when it’s cold and you have nothing else to talk about!! It was great to see everyone again. By the third person I met I had a routine pattern of statements well practiced in Sesotho and ready to respond to anything.
That was yesterday. Today I went to the post office to check the mail but the post man wasn’t going to show until after lunch. (Lunch is from 1-2 and they close at 3:30!!). Whatever. Since I had time I stopped by and chased some kids. They are a trip and think I must be insane as I come after them. I also hung out with the priest’s handyman. He was fixing a wheelbarrow and he didn’t seem to mind the audience. I think he actually loved the observation of his personal handiness. Finally, before I reached home I sat with Me’Malineo and chatted about the weather, about the chickens, and I explained how a wooden door could swell because of water. I avoided the obvious difficulties of the science behind it and described it more like a sponge.
That was yesterday. Today I went to the post office to check the mail but the post man wasn’t going to show until after lunch. (Lunch is from 1-2 and they close at 3:30!!). Whatever. Since I had time I stopped by and chased some kids. They are a trip and think I must be insane as I come after them. I also hung out with the priest’s handyman. He was fixing a wheelbarrow and he didn’t seem to mind the audience. I think he actually loved the observation of his personal handiness. Finally, before I reached home I sat with Me’Malineo and chatted about the weather, about the chickens, and I explained how a wooden door could swell because of water. I avoided the obvious difficulties of the science behind it and described it more like a sponge.
I finally made it back up to Semonkong on Tuesday, June 30th. It’s been a solid month since I’ve been back and I have to say it is nice to be back. The weather has taken a turn for the fridgid. I woke the next day to a temperature of 23ºF outside and 34ºF inside. Of course I already knew it was cold before I looked at the thermometer since it was hidden behind a sheet of frost (on the inside window).
My gardens have been decimated by the local wildlife. Cows and sheep have left evidence enough to know I’m gonna have to buy my carrots, cabbage, and spinach again this year. With my make shift plastic sheet I’ll be getting another grow box ready for August. This is all after living in a Maseru for another week (+) to help out with training; plenty of time to plan. . . something.
The greatest surprise of them all was that the generator that broke just as I arrived last year is finally fixed. With it we (the town) have electricity from about 7/8 am till about 10 pm every day. It doesn’t make the cold go away but it sure does distract me enough so I can pretend!!
Enjoy the summer weather USA, your time
My gardens have been decimated by the local wildlife. Cows and sheep have left evidence enough to know I’m gonna have to buy my carrots, cabbage, and spinach again this year. With my make shift plastic sheet I’ll be getting another grow box ready for August. This is all after living in a Maseru for another week (+) to help out with training; plenty of time to plan. . . something.
The greatest surprise of them all was that the generator that broke just as I arrived last year is finally fixed. With it we (the town) have electricity from about 7/8 am till about 10 pm every day. It doesn’t make the cold go away but it sure does distract me enough so I can pretend!!
Enjoy the summer weather USA, your time
Jo'Burg travels.
In a blog I wrote after arriving in Jo'burg international airport I described my trip thus and thought I should publish it though it's a bit out of order::
In blunt defiance of dad's emphatic wish, I've come to Johannesburg for my flight home. His willingness to fly me out of Bloem or even Maseru was nice. The truth is, however, that I would rather challenge myself than just take the easy route. Honestly, I wanted to see what Jo'burg was like, how easy is was to get in and around, and know how of what I hear about Jo'burg is true.
I think that is part of my self determined to seeking of the truth in everything. I'm more stubborn in that sense than in any other. Yes, if I had seen a fire a child and was told not to touch it, I would probably still seek that first burn. Guaranteed it would be only once deliberately done.
Admittedly, the nerves were pressed thinking about a trip to Jo'burg. They are still a bit keen knowing I have a trip back to Lesotho coming my way very soon. Anxiety in my eyes seems fruitless and demeaning. The unwarranted attack I subject myself is personal slavery of which escape is one's own responsibility.
In truth, the taxi from Lesotho's boarder to Jo'burg provided the best security. Conversations with the other people riding to Jo'burg were the best way to find good people. They in-turn directed me on the right path. I can't reasonably presume why, particularly one person felt so inclined to help, but it was greatly appreciated.
**
Immediately as the taxi pulled into the fenced off rank, people began to approach like ball-bearings pulled toward a magnet. Their aggressiveness is always daunting but expected. There are always people waiting for the white guy in an all black area. I get strange looks from blacks and other whites alike who wonder what this particular guy is thinking.
The whites generally picture a risk taker who isn't thinking right putting himself in harms way. The isolation of their vehicles which they park behind tall fences at home, a place with burglar bars and double locks, all in my mind escalates a sense of insecurity. Thinking all people are out to get you except your friends, and even they've thought about it, is a fear factor.
I often picture the large black woman who once sat beside me on the Greyhound bus to Oklahoma when I think about how other black people may see me here. She sat down beside me, her size more than double mine. She was also surely a good foot taller than me. Leaning over my way, she looked at me with a frank but kind smile and direct precise tone, “And where's a little white boy like yourself going?”
At any rate, this kind and large woman was not there today as people approached the car. Most surely thought I was an excellent target, a prime fool because no one with any sense would come through the rank. At one point I did wonder where I might go. The taxi driver previously promised his help in finding a ride out to the airport. His help amounted to a pointing out the door. In the end, my car buddy was the most help. After he noticed how aggressive everybody was to “help” me, he rushed in and lead me the right direction.
There were several other people that provided their support along with his that day. They are all greatly appreciated after seeing the way people swooned. And I didn't even have to break out my ninja skills! Now for the easy part, heading back to the US.
In blunt defiance of dad's emphatic wish, I've come to Johannesburg for my flight home. His willingness to fly me out of Bloem or even Maseru was nice. The truth is, however, that I would rather challenge myself than just take the easy route. Honestly, I wanted to see what Jo'burg was like, how easy is was to get in and around, and know how of what I hear about Jo'burg is true.
I think that is part of my self determined to seeking of the truth in everything. I'm more stubborn in that sense than in any other. Yes, if I had seen a fire a child and was told not to touch it, I would probably still seek that first burn. Guaranteed it would be only once deliberately done.
Admittedly, the nerves were pressed thinking about a trip to Jo'burg. They are still a bit keen knowing I have a trip back to Lesotho coming my way very soon. Anxiety in my eyes seems fruitless and demeaning. The unwarranted attack I subject myself is personal slavery of which escape is one's own responsibility.
In truth, the taxi from Lesotho's boarder to Jo'burg provided the best security. Conversations with the other people riding to Jo'burg were the best way to find good people. They in-turn directed me on the right path. I can't reasonably presume why, particularly one person felt so inclined to help, but it was greatly appreciated.
**
Immediately as the taxi pulled into the fenced off rank, people began to approach like ball-bearings pulled toward a magnet. Their aggressiveness is always daunting but expected. There are always people waiting for the white guy in an all black area. I get strange looks from blacks and other whites alike who wonder what this particular guy is thinking.
The whites generally picture a risk taker who isn't thinking right putting himself in harms way. The isolation of their vehicles which they park behind tall fences at home, a place with burglar bars and double locks, all in my mind escalates a sense of insecurity. Thinking all people are out to get you except your friends, and even they've thought about it, is a fear factor.
I often picture the large black woman who once sat beside me on the Greyhound bus to Oklahoma when I think about how other black people may see me here. She sat down beside me, her size more than double mine. She was also surely a good foot taller than me. Leaning over my way, she looked at me with a frank but kind smile and direct precise tone, “And where's a little white boy like yourself going?”
At any rate, this kind and large woman was not there today as people approached the car. Most surely thought I was an excellent target, a prime fool because no one with any sense would come through the rank. At one point I did wonder where I might go. The taxi driver previously promised his help in finding a ride out to the airport. His help amounted to a pointing out the door. In the end, my car buddy was the most help. After he noticed how aggressive everybody was to “help” me, he rushed in and lead me the right direction.
There were several other people that provided their support along with his that day. They are all greatly appreciated after seeing the way people swooned. And I didn't even have to break out my ninja skills! Now for the easy part, heading back to the US.
The Ineffectual Woman: what to do with a life.
There's a woman I know who wants more than anything to change the world. Should I say first that she want's to take Atlas's place as the bearer of pain. The panacea of all earth's troubles has come down to Peace Corps service and the outreach to children. The sad fate of the world's disadvantaged youth growing up in the developing countries compels her. Nothing is too heavy and no child is not innocent. Her joy as the bearer of this quest is, however, her greatest source of pain. The pressure draws from her a piece of herself which this world can not return in favor. Terror's eat at her soul to know that one innocent child can only be saved from a single moments troubles. Even the thoughts of a ripple throughout that single child's life is not enough to prompt a calmer heart. She is paralyzed by these fears of ineffectiveness. This multiplying effect where witnessing a single bad incident feeds increasing doubt infects the value of all deeds no matter what their potential positive effects.
To me, this isn't a question of development. There are just those people in the world that are going to do terrible things. Even when the authorities try to react to them or social structures are created in hopes of preempting tragedy and terror before it starts, I can't foresee an end to the possible awfulness people are capable of with each other.
Thinking about this volunteer I can only hope, for her sake, that she finds some way to cope with what will otherwise consume her. Listening to her thoughts and anger toward Basotho who beat their children I can't help but notice my own feelings. It's strange how almost cold I feel about such an awful thing. I've similarly thought how callous I feel toward beggars. My skill at turning people away has become so good; I can see it in their eyes, I can notice someone preparing to ask me for something even before we get within speaking distance. To this end I can't give this particular volunteer any advice. For me, I have shut my self down to situations that I can't control.
I hope I haven't become too much of a realist loosing my optimistic idealism. Instead, I'd like to think I have gained an informed perspective; rather a perspective that is always learning from the ever changing possibility that people achieve in their own lives.
To me, this isn't a question of development. There are just those people in the world that are going to do terrible things. Even when the authorities try to react to them or social structures are created in hopes of preempting tragedy and terror before it starts, I can't foresee an end to the possible awfulness people are capable of with each other.
Thinking about this volunteer I can only hope, for her sake, that she finds some way to cope with what will otherwise consume her. Listening to her thoughts and anger toward Basotho who beat their children I can't help but notice my own feelings. It's strange how almost cold I feel about such an awful thing. I've similarly thought how callous I feel toward beggars. My skill at turning people away has become so good; I can see it in their eyes, I can notice someone preparing to ask me for something even before we get within speaking distance. To this end I can't give this particular volunteer any advice. For me, I have shut my self down to situations that I can't control.
I hope I haven't become too much of a realist loosing my optimistic idealism. Instead, I'd like to think I have gained an informed perspective; rather a perspective that is always learning from the ever changing possibility that people achieve in their own lives.
I got the flu shot today after hearing people who had it then acquired the swine flu were suffering less severe symptoms. That would be grand, especially if I got anything while I was in the States.
I'm glad I was listening when she was talking. Other than her happened upon advice, I have really been struggling to pay attention during our TOT (Training of Trainers) sessions. My mind has been in so many other places as I plan to leave, work on developing agriculture training sessions, and keep my other responsibilities in mind. It's a juggling act I'd like to forget about while on the beaches of Florida!
I'm glad I was listening when she was talking. Other than her happened upon advice, I have really been struggling to pay attention during our TOT (Training of Trainers) sessions. My mind has been in so many other places as I plan to leave, work on developing agriculture training sessions, and keep my other responsibilities in mind. It's a juggling act I'd like to forget about while on the beaches of Florida!
Good Luck Kelly!!
I'm sitting in the Training Center lounge area watching as Kelly suffers to finish a book. She has been reading The Other Anne Boline Girl for something like two months reading other books in the middle to break-up the monotony that is 500 pages. She has less than fifty pages left and the joy is mixed with exhaustion. Kelly feels impossible commitment to finishing a book once she has started. She forces herself to finish no matter how it's going. I could have told her just to watch The Tudors from Showtime but it's too late now!! Good Job Kelly!!
****We will miss you here in Lesotho but know you did what you need to do for you and your family. Take care and I'm sure we will see each other again!****
****We will miss you here in Lesotho but know you did what you need to do for you and your family. Take care and I'm sure we will see each other again!****
The Chinese and Obama.
I'm headin' home, I only have a week and a half left. All that time is going to be spent in Maseru where we are preparing for the new CHED volunteers to arrive.
I was telling the Chinese about my leaving for the US and the Chinese were telling me to bring something back for them. I joked that nothing in the US is made in the US so if they wanted Chinese made items I would get right on that. There is one crazy haired sixty-ish Chinese women in this particular shop who then said in Chinese “Bring me Obama.” She then repeated it with the emphasis of a jihad extremist making me wonder if a few Obama stickers and key chains would be enough for this woman. Hopefully she doesn't want for me to bring the man himself!
I was telling the Chinese about my leaving for the US and the Chinese were telling me to bring something back for them. I joked that nothing in the US is made in the US so if they wanted Chinese made items I would get right on that. There is one crazy haired sixty-ish Chinese women in this particular shop who then said in Chinese “Bring me Obama.” She then repeated it with the emphasis of a jihad extremist making me wonder if a few Obama stickers and key chains would be enough for this woman. Hopefully she doesn't want for me to bring the man himself!
Saturday, July 4, 2009
No one from my organization is in Semonkong right now. I’ll fill everyone in on the news with that eventually. Instead of worrying I spent yesterday greeting everyone again. More or less I wanted to make sure they didn’t think I left/was dead. You know how rumors can circulate in a small town especially when it’s cold and you have nothing else to talk about!! It was great to see everyone again. By the third person I met I had a routine pattern of statements well practiced in Sesotho and ready to respond to anything.
That was yesterday. Today I went to the post office to check the mail but the post man wasn’t going to show until after lunch. (Lunch is from 1-2 and they close at 3:30!!). Whatever. Since I had time I stopped by and chased some kids. They are a trip and think I must be insane as I come after them. I also hung out with the priest’s handyman. He was fixing a wheelbarrow and he didn’t seem to mind the audience. I think he actually loved the observation of his personal handiness. Finally, before I reached home I sat with Me’Malineo and chatted about the weather, about the chickens, and I explained how a wooden door could swell because of water. I avoided the obvious difficulties of the science behind it and described it more like a sponge.
That was yesterday. Today I went to the post office to check the mail but the post man wasn’t going to show until after lunch. (Lunch is from 1-2 and they close at 3:30!!). Whatever. Since I had time I stopped by and chased some kids. They are a trip and think I must be insane as I come after them. I also hung out with the priest’s handyman. He was fixing a wheelbarrow and he didn’t seem to mind the audience. I think he actually loved the observation of his personal handiness. Finally, before I reached home I sat with Me’Malineo and chatted about the weather, about the chickens, and I explained how a wooden door could swell because of water. I avoided the obvious difficulties of the science behind it and described it more like a sponge.
I finally made it back up to Semonkong on Tuesday, June 30th. It’s been a solid month since I’ve been back and I have to say it is nice to be back. The weather has taken a turn for the fridgid. I woke the next day to a temperature of 23ºF outside and 34ºF inside. Of course I already knew it was cold before I looked at the thermometer since it was hidden behind a sheet of frost (on the inside window).
My gardens have been decimated by the local wildlife. Cows and sheep have left evidence enough to know I’m gonna have to buy my carrots, cabbage, and spinach again this year. With my make shift plastic sheet I’ll be getting another grow box ready for August. This is all after living in a Maseru for another week (+) to help out with training; plenty of time to plan. . . something.
The greatest surprise of them all was that the generator that broke just as I arrived last year is finally fixed. With it we (the town) have electricity from about 7/8 am till about 10 pm every day. It doesn’t make the cold go away but it sure does distract me enough so I can pretend!!
Enjoy the summer weather USA, your time is coming!!
My gardens have been decimated by the local wildlife. Cows and sheep have left evidence enough to know I’m gonna have to buy my carrots, cabbage, and spinach again this year. With my make shift plastic sheet I’ll be getting another grow box ready for August. This is all after living in a Maseru for another week (+) to help out with training; plenty of time to plan. . . something.
The greatest surprise of them all was that the generator that broke just as I arrived last year is finally fixed. With it we (the town) have electricity from about 7/8 am till about 10 pm every day. It doesn’t make the cold go away but it sure does distract me enough so I can pretend!!
Enjoy the summer weather USA, your time is coming!!
I must live in the coldest town in Africa. If someone could get on that research and let me know if I’m right, I would greatly appreciate it though right now the thought isn’t comforting in the least.
It snowed last week for the first time leaving a nice blanket over everything, including the road. That made for a mess with transportation. For a while no one was going anywhere.
I managed to get a ride with the lodge vehicle as it headed back up from a re-stocking trip. That drive re-instilled a love for Lesotho that might have otherwise gone astray. The mountains were a beautiful white, the ledges had sheets of ice and ice sickles hanging from them and they danced with the beautiful colors of the setting sun. This can’t sound dramatic enough. The sky’s colors morphed from the solid blues of the short day to shades of orange, reds, and pinks melding together; this was something a picture or a painting could never recreate.
Just up on Thaba Putsoa, the highest peak you pass as you head to Semonkong, gave the greatest viewpoint for the sky as it met the earth. Touching just below the horizon the whole sky blew up into all shades of reds emanating from that one point and fading away toward our destination.
It snowed last week for the first time leaving a nice blanket over everything, including the road. That made for a mess with transportation. For a while no one was going anywhere.
I managed to get a ride with the lodge vehicle as it headed back up from a re-stocking trip. That drive re-instilled a love for Lesotho that might have otherwise gone astray. The mountains were a beautiful white, the ledges had sheets of ice and ice sickles hanging from them and they danced with the beautiful colors of the setting sun. This can’t sound dramatic enough. The sky’s colors morphed from the solid blues of the short day to shades of orange, reds, and pinks melding together; this was something a picture or a painting could never recreate.
Just up on Thaba Putsoa, the highest peak you pass as you head to Semonkong, gave the greatest viewpoint for the sky as it met the earth. Touching just below the horizon the whole sky blew up into all shades of reds emanating from that one point and fading away toward our destination.
Reverse Culture-Shock: the feeling of being alienated by your own home; feeling out of place. There are some pretty stark differences between my life in Lesotho and my life in the US. They are alternate realities that only happen to share the same plain in the universe. Just the other day I was looking at my pictures of Semonkong and laughed at home strangely familiar steel corrugated shacks were. Similarly, the horses’ hitching posts and a picture of hundreds of sheep drew bittersweet memories.
As I sit here at the corner of 7th and H streets in Washington, DC, however, I’m being distracted by a man dancing in the street. If his singing and twirling style of dance didn’t draw people’s attention then maybe the fact that he was doing it in the middle of the intersection as he directed traffic should have helped. Of course tragically my eyes were also witness to vintage seventies booty shorts and cut-off shirt.
This man was definitely different but he brought fond thoughts of crazy witch lady living on the streets of Semonkong. Her skin orange and eyes yellowing because of the amount of alcohol she drinks instead of food, she carries her friends on her shoulder and has lengthy—and incoherent—conversations with them. She has called me white money on good days and white donkey the bad. Though I’m not in the same place when I meet these people I feel a comforting familiarity.
These special characters in my life are contrastingly supportive to the ‘overwhelmed’ feeling I’ve experienced since being home. Several times I’ve had to take a moment to collect my senses. I would pause to take a deep breath and catch up with all the excitement. It might seem silly to make a big deal about after spending a year watching sheep grazy, hanging out in a podunk town, and cheersing with real village people in mud/dung thatched huts makes the hustle and bustle something foreign.
Sitting down in a restaurant with all the sights and sounds of people’s busy feeding frenzy or the carnival atmosphere of Disney world shook me up. It was the muddled modern world with its innumerable sensual exploits that drove me so crazy.
As I sit here at the corner of 7th and H streets in Washington, DC, however, I’m being distracted by a man dancing in the street. If his singing and twirling style of dance didn’t draw people’s attention then maybe the fact that he was doing it in the middle of the intersection as he directed traffic should have helped. Of course tragically my eyes were also witness to vintage seventies booty shorts and cut-off shirt.
This man was definitely different but he brought fond thoughts of crazy witch lady living on the streets of Semonkong. Her skin orange and eyes yellowing because of the amount of alcohol she drinks instead of food, she carries her friends on her shoulder and has lengthy—and incoherent—conversations with them. She has called me white money on good days and white donkey the bad. Though I’m not in the same place when I meet these people I feel a comforting familiarity.
These special characters in my life are contrastingly supportive to the ‘overwhelmed’ feeling I’ve experienced since being home. Several times I’ve had to take a moment to collect my senses. I would pause to take a deep breath and catch up with all the excitement. It might seem silly to make a big deal about after spending a year watching sheep grazy, hanging out in a podunk town, and cheersing with real village people in mud/dung thatched huts makes the hustle and bustle something foreign.
Sitting down in a restaurant with all the sights and sounds of people’s busy feeding frenzy or the carnival atmosphere of Disney world shook me up. It was the muddled modern world with its innumerable sensual exploits that drove me so crazy.
Coming back to the US humorously exciting because of the imagined change I would see. Obama is president. Before I left the US was in a headed debate over who to elect. A full year later after the decision has been made, nothing has really changed. More than anything else the debris from an obsessive population still remains.
Obamamania produced huge amounts of memorabilia. There are stores filled with the stuff and in one, The Official DC Souvenir shop there was more than 90% dedicated to Obama materials. As I walked through the store a feeling reminded me of a quote someone gave me once here in Africa. In talking generally about politics in Africa this person criticized Africans for their obsessive hero worship for their politicians. More often than not, populations will idealize the people that lead them rather than something else like an political document or ideology. I kept that thought in my mind but only after a few a little while did it start to make sense on so many levels.
Watching how much Americans have abandoned some sense of reverence for American ideals, it seems people have replaced their hope of future successes of this country with the hopes of a hero, someone to make all things right rather than that which we can work on together. Then again, maybe this is the un-insightful view of someone still unsure what’s next for my country.
Obamamania produced huge amounts of memorabilia. There are stores filled with the stuff and in one, The Official DC Souvenir shop there was more than 90% dedicated to Obama materials. As I walked through the store a feeling reminded me of a quote someone gave me once here in Africa. In talking generally about politics in Africa this person criticized Africans for their obsessive hero worship for their politicians. More often than not, populations will idealize the people that lead them rather than something else like an political document or ideology. I kept that thought in my mind but only after a few a little while did it start to make sense on so many levels.
Watching how much Americans have abandoned some sense of reverence for American ideals, it seems people have replaced their hope of future successes of this country with the hopes of a hero, someone to make all things right rather than that which we can work on together. Then again, maybe this is the un-insightful view of someone still unsure what’s next for my country.
The plan was to head home in late May, spend four weeks in the states and then head back to Lesotho the third week in June. It has worked out very well and the trip has been amazing.
Not being too prideful, I will admit the nerves were high as I was taking the bus up to Jo’burg. A mix of excitement and insecurity was exhilarating. Who’s the adrenaline junky?! Getting here was great. I stayed in DC for a few days and hung out with good people. I went to a Washington Nationals baseball game and to the bars for some draft beers. My first real meal was a sub from subway. I loved every bit of that foot long!
Unfortunately, coming back to the US can be hazardous to your health. Almost instantly after getting off the plane I started to feel ‘rough’ with a vicious cough and some nose clogging action. Swine flu is not the cool thing to be doing. I learned the hard way! Whatever flu I did have rocked me good for a couple days before I was able to kick it. Allergies were also pretty fierce this year. Living in Africa has clearly made me soft!
Not being too prideful, I will admit the nerves were high as I was taking the bus up to Jo’burg. A mix of excitement and insecurity was exhilarating. Who’s the adrenaline junky?! Getting here was great. I stayed in DC for a few days and hung out with good people. I went to a Washington Nationals baseball game and to the bars for some draft beers. My first real meal was a sub from subway. I loved every bit of that foot long!
Unfortunately, coming back to the US can be hazardous to your health. Almost instantly after getting off the plane I started to feel ‘rough’ with a vicious cough and some nose clogging action. Swine flu is not the cool thing to be doing. I learned the hard way! Whatever flu I did have rocked me good for a couple days before I was able to kick it. Allergies were also pretty fierce this year. Living in Africa has clearly made me soft!
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