Due in part to some seemingly poor accounting and a poor international donor relationship, KMA's network donor system as failed to supply funding this year. It has actually been a problem since late last year. Though Palesa and Nthabileng were aware of this when they first came on board with KMA, their patience and understanding is running thin. It's still longer than I would last but I must constantly check myself when we talk about the issue. I come from a country where I could find another paying job if I get dissatisfied. People leave their job all the time just because they are bored, tired, or whatever other whim flites past their mind. That luxury does not exist here.
That is why the Boss of KMA asking everybody to make a trip to Maseru next week for a staff meeting has left everyone in a bad mood. No one has any money. Palesa's child has been removed from school because she can not pay his school fees. Everybody is hurting and Ntate Moahloli is asking for them to pay R60 to get to Maseru, an expensive city on even a paid Basotho's wallet.
I'm sure glad I'm getting out of dodge for the week and away from the frustration. That and my water tap is broken. Semonkong is falling apart!!
Friday, May 8, 2009
Another stressing moment led to a nice opportunity and a good experience. On Wednesday I went to my organization's office and there learned that the next day no one would be present though I had a training planned. I would need to wait for Me' Ellen to arrive and give permission for me to have the key to the main hall. Mind you, it was eleven when I arrived at the offices; she was still at home and would not be back until after lunch. She didn't finally show until 3 but I didn't just wait around like I feared.
Two field officers from the office were headed to the wool shed this day and I asked if I might accompany them to the shed. Have never gone to the shed though I teach wool spinners, this seemed like an excellent opportunity to learn about the process while taking up some time. This thought proved truer once I arrived.
The people working at the shed were very nice and inviting. I feared making trouble out of the distraction I had become. Everybody loved that I was taking pictures. Even the manager, a very large older woman who did NOT want a picture of herself, approved of my freely walking about the shed. I can't say I learned a great deal more than I already knew though I do have a better idea how it all works. There are some pretty awesome pictures that I will have to post as soon as I get around to it.
Two field officers from the office were headed to the wool shed this day and I asked if I might accompany them to the shed. Have never gone to the shed though I teach wool spinners, this seemed like an excellent opportunity to learn about the process while taking up some time. This thought proved truer once I arrived.
The people working at the shed were very nice and inviting. I feared making trouble out of the distraction I had become. Everybody loved that I was taking pictures. Even the manager, a very large older woman who did NOT want a picture of herself, approved of my freely walking about the shed. I can't say I learned a great deal more than I already knew though I do have a better idea how it all works. There are some pretty awesome pictures that I will have to post as soon as I get around to it.
Be afraid. If you are anywhere around me when I make it home. . . eventually, I am going to make you watch the music video I just bought this week in Maseru. It's an awesome video of this almost famous performer in Lesotho. The DVD has all the classic aspects critical to a good depiction of Basotho music videos. I can't wait until I learn the outsider perspective. Confidently, I can post this knowing most of my friends aren't going to read my blog. That is in my favor when I come to visit with this DVD ready to play!!
I drew a crowd of curious onlookers in the rank while I watched and talked about the video. Two lehoa will do that though. Not sure if it was because of Ro's presence—was he judging my haggling ability or the purchase choice—either way I got a discount on the DVD selling the salesman on the idea that I will encourage others to come and buy their videos from this same store. As Ro said, “I really Jewed him.” I'm taking noted from the master Ro!
I drew a crowd of curious onlookers in the rank while I watched and talked about the video. Two lehoa will do that though. Not sure if it was because of Ro's presence—was he judging my haggling ability or the purchase choice—either way I got a discount on the DVD selling the salesman on the idea that I will encourage others to come and buy their videos from this same store. As Ro said, “I really Jewed him.” I'm taking noted from the master Ro!
Yes, it is possible to forget your own name.
Early the other morning I heard Ntate Matsitsi calling a name and I thought to myself “who is he calling and why is he at my door?” Once the fog lifted and I came back to reality the link between who “Nick” was and my self identity finally clicked.
No this was not hangover induced though I will say it was early and before a cup of coffee which explains a great deal!
Early the other morning I heard Ntate Matsitsi calling a name and I thought to myself “who is he calling and why is he at my door?” Once the fog lifted and I came back to reality the link between who “Nick” was and my self identity finally clicked.
No this was not hangover induced though I will say it was early and before a cup of coffee which explains a great deal!
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.
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.
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