Ke Nako! (It’s Time!)

All over the radio, on tv, and across posters this motto is repeated capturing the excitement of the approaching world cup in South Africa. It’s time! The opening ceremony will begin on Friday in Johannesburg. I really enjoy the spirit that comes out of the world cup and it’s something special when you are in the host country. Fifa World Cup 2010 is not just a chance for great soccer competition but it’s a chance for the world to see South Africa. Everyone is excited. For an area of the world where ‘football’ is huge, and for a country striving for greater recognition these next few months are a once in a lifetime opportunity.

Lesotho missed this opportunity already. As a small country with an unexceptional team there was probably little chance of them ever having made the tournament. Corruption in the administration of the team and apathy amongst the players themselves did nothing to help the situation. However, being geographically inside South Africa the national stadium was intended to be renovated and used as a practice area for a competing team. The proximity to South Africa made it ideal but contracts have been cancelled because the grounds weren’t kept up. The offices around the playing field, however, were renovated. Lesotho will have to settle for supporting their larger richer neighbor.

Preparing for a world event like the world cup is not easy, nor cheap for that matter. Stadiums need to be built and renovated, public security including new threats need to be considered, and preparation for a flood of the world’s soccer fan’s need to be made. There has been a particularly large focus on the crackdown of human trafficking. The world cup is said to bring in extra demand for everything including prostitutes. South Africa is not the safest country in the world. Petty crime can get violent and its rampant. Tourists will face muggings, assaults, and carjacking. South Africa’s job is to minimize these.

Of course there are also many positives. All this attention requires a lot of investment. Infrastructure will be built and will remain after the fans leave. Even when I was in Durban I noticed a new bus route being prepared. People who have never considered travel to Africa will come this summer because of the soccer. This is a huge growth in the tourism industry which will hopefully have a long term benefit.

This tournament has been anticipated for years and Ke Nako! Be ready for some exciting soccer the next few months but also check out the side stories. There is plenty to be excited for.

Into the Wild (of my backyard)

This past weekend a fellow volunteer, Haley, and I went on an epic hike in my area. From the pictures I posted early on you can see that my site is mountainous. The tallest of these peaks, called Bitso Lebe, have a distinguishing outcrop of rocks and that is the direction in which we headed. I had done this hike alone and was vaguely familiar with the territory. The mountain is scattered with waterfalls, one creates a mist that when the sun is out the rays hit it in such a way there is a permanent rainbow. I also met a family enthusiastically told me of the gold and diamonds in the area. I seriously doubt this however they did show me a river with rocks speckled with shiny bits. Lured by my tales of rainbows, diamonds, and gold my companion and I set out as modern day explorers. The journey ended up being much more dramatic and glorious than I could ever have imagined due to the fact that like I said, I only vaguely knew the territory.

Before setting out, we packed one backpack for the two of us. In it we packed breakfast and lunch and as far as wilderness gear we had a sweatshirt each, one mag light, and a pocket knife. The first stretch of the journey was relatively easy as we were riding horses. Being a foreigner in a small African village is always a spectacle. My students went nuts seeing my female friend and I both mounted on horses. We were followed by a huge entourage of kids ‘showing us the way all the way through the sprawl of the village. I’m not sure exactly how far they would have followed us but at the edge of the village I directed my students to take the children home. The attention is flattering but I wanted to enjoy my time with nature and my friend privately.

At the first waterfall we stopped and ate some fried rice we had packed. We lead the horses to a clearing right next to a waterfall and let them graze while we rested. Now the water falls we encounter here are not as big as you might imagine. They are the result of a rock river falling down some cliff usually between 10 and 20 feet high. The rivers are never more than ankle deep so there isn’t a huge flow of water but the beauty of a water fall is in the designs the rocks cut into the water and the soothing sound. Haley insisted on a picture and as I went to strike my pose at the edge of the waterfall I accidentally stepped in to the river, first my right then left foot.

When we continued on horse the paths got much narrower and steeper. We made it to the top without anymore incident. We tied our horses at the house of some friends and headed on in search of the legendary rainbow. This is when the trouble begins. At this point on the mountain we are hiking because there are no more paths the horses can really go on. I think I have a pretty good sense of direction. I usually get where I am going but I didn’t consider encountering obstacles that would prohibit me from moving any direction I wanted. When we came upon a river I did not recognize, I assumed we were just a little further down river from our destined waterfall. “Just walk up stream and we’ll get there in five minutes” I told Haley. It wasn’t until later that I realized that there were many, many, many rivers on this mountain. As we walked up the river the shores lost any resemblance to a path and we began to walk in the river on the dry parts of rock. The farther we went the thicker the canopy became. At times I had to rip away dead branches just to get through. Then we came across a waterfall. It was a small one maybe 15ft at most. It was not the one we were looking for and it was completely blocking our path. Not wanting to go back through what we had just triumphed and convinced the real waterfall had to be close we climbed up the side of the fall through brush, prickly leaves, and loose soil. This first climb up the side of the waterfall truly marked us going into the wild.

Once at the top of this fall we were greeted with nothing welcoming. The path behind us was a difficult drop and so we pressed forward again bush waking, and taking careful steps on slippery rock. At one point we found some sort of trail so we started to climb up the side as we continued to follow the river. When the brush cleared the site that we were met with was horrifying. We found a bigger waterfall. It still wasn’t the right one, but it was massive. I will refrain from guessing its height in order to avoid exaggeration. With the fall as an impossible obstacle and knowing what was behind us we were forced to choose between continuing up what we had been climbing or descending, crossing the river and climbing up the other side. On the other side Haley had spotted a small square hole in a rock that seemed to be man-made but this guaranteed a lot of hardships for no certainty of a path. The hole even if it was man-made could be so old no path exists anymore. We chose to continue up the side of the river we had been on reasoning that the sheep trail laden with fresh excrement must lead to something herders walk on.

The terrain we were on was a mixture of loose soil, shrubs, and rock. You could never be sure of your footing and one bad step meant a long tumble down to the rocks. We stopped and rested for a while at a tree with some sturdy looking rocks big enough for our butts to fit on. I gazed around us and it was breathtaking. I’ve never been so completely surrounded by nature without a sign of any other humans. Haley, however, was petrified. She held tightly on to two rocks even though she was safely seated. At that point I felt a little guilty. I also realized that if either of us lost confidence we would be in even more danger. We didn’t know if there really was a path at the top, we didn’t even know if we could walk around at the top but we had to keep going.

When we finally turned the corner and had our future revealed we found there was more climbing to do but this time it was a much easier hike. At the top of this climb we finally spotted a hut. Who lives this high on the mountain and why I have no idea but we took it as a sign that there must be a path back to the horses. In celebration we rested and set up our campfire. I still had my backpack and in it we had the ingredients of the best breakfast sandwiches in the world.

From that point on the path continued to have difficulties but considering what we had gone through already it was nothing. Back at the horses we told the family their mountain was very beautiful excluding the adventure we had been on. We didn’t want them to think we were crazy for not taking a guide. The horses comfortably carried us back to my little hut and ended our epic journey. I can see the point I made it to on the mountain every time I step out my door. To think all that adventure happened right in my backyard is fantastic.

Crossing the Border

Internet has been a serious problem at my site so it has been difficult to update this blog.

Since I last wrote, I attended my final training session in the capital. After that our group was granted permission to leave the country for vacations. Some friends and I headed to Durban in South Africa for Easter break. I really enjoyed eating well, lying on the beach, and the various adventures we had just running around. Durban is a beachside city on the Indian Ocean, complete with all your metropolitan desires. We went to a water park, one of the biggest malls I’ve ever been in, a rugby game, some awesome restaurants, and McDonald’s (a necessity). I’m not sure what others felt but I was not ready for all these luxuries. The difference between Lesotho and South Africa is astounding considering their geographic positions.

History is definitely relevant to this but I am no expert. I really should pick up a book on this but it’s not as easy as would think with my limited access to books and internet. Lesotho has always been independent of South Africa. The Basotho nations was founded through the unification of many tribes under a King Moshoeshoe, who defended this land from other tribes and colonists. Whenever, South Africa emerged as a nation Lesotho remained an independent Kingdom, I believe with assistance from the British. I really am not certain on the facts but the important thing is that despite being surrounded by South Africa, Lesotho was always different. South Africa went through white minority rule, violent apartheid, then Nelson Mandela (sure he can be an event). What has emerged is the strongest economy in Africa. Lesotho’s history is much different.

From my house I get to the border town of Maputsoe in about an hour. From there you can literally walk across the border. If you’ve never crossed a national border on foot, you should, it’s fun. In airports there is all this formality. Here I went to a window got my passport stamped (with the wrong dates) and walked through 5 minutes of no man’s land with a huge crowd. We got into a taxi just like the ones we ride in Lesotho. The first part of the drive is through a national park complete with vacation cabins. We drive through some smaller towns already which already seemed to have more than the communities we work in. Our rest stop is at a gas station which is packed with food, coffee, and magazines. There’s also an ATM, flushing bathrooms, a ham shop, and steers (a fast food place). It took us a while to get back in the taxi as we just walked around amazed. We also found out that our Sesotho was no longer understood. We even got pulled over a few times, the police had all these gadgets to test our brakes and things. The even insisted that we change the taxi because our windshield was broken. The driver ended up jetting out of there but it was nice to know the police did their jobs, halfway.

Everything is better in South Africa. Lesotho benefits from this because of the easy import of goods but the things Lesotho exports does not profit them nearly as much as it should. South Africa has a demand for Lesotho’s water and the electricity their dams produce. However, these resources are controlled by South African companies. A significant portion of income in Lesotho comes from Basotho working in mines in South Africa and sending money home. This is hardly a sustainable factor in their economy. Moreover, educated Basotho find that higher paying jobs outside the country are reason to move out of the country. Jobs such, including teaching, are compensated at close to ten times the rate causing a serious brain drain. Over the past, education in Lesotho has improved a lot. Free primary education is a national policy and there is an increasing number of students moving on to secondary and higher levels of education. In terms of development this is promising because an educated population is more employable. However, in my opinion, the pull factors encouraging emigration from Lesotho significantly counter these efforts.

Debate!

I’ve mentioned before that I was reorganizing the English club and one of our activities is debate. This past weekend, I accompanied three of my students to a regional debate competition which we have been absent from the past two years. Debate is organized by regional teachers’ associations and about a month ago I found out that we had been invited to compete. We were already mid-season when we began practicing but the students showed some serious commitment. They met every day of the school week even though most clubs meet once a week. I have no experience with debate but looking back I think we did pretty well.

Before I could even have my students begin practicing I had to figure out how debate worked. I spent hours on the internet and talking with other teachers to find out the rules and the particulars of debating in Lesotho. The only contact I’ve had with debate was watching friends compete once or twice in high school. Basically, three kids make speeches in support of a statement and three make speeches opposing it. Each side is a team. The adjudicator decides a winner based on delivery, content of argument, and English language usage. The topic is announced yearly and students spend the season researching and debating the same motion over and over. Teams are told if they are supporting or opposing 15 minutes before but are prepared for both sides.

This year the debates were sponsored by the Lesotho Revenue Authority (like our IRA) and so they picked a motion relating to taxes: “This house proposes that it is unfair for Basotho to be taxed on their hard-earned money”. This topic is pretty broad and can go in so many directions so the students need to research well. LRA hosted a briefing about the motion in order to give some basic information and allow for some questions. Other than the briefing, students read newspapers, asked people they knew, and some could even use the internet. My school is rural so we did not have the advantage of the web or even a library for that matter. I don’t think I ever wrote anything without consulting Google or Yahoo. I tried to lecture them on certain tax related things but I didn’t have nearly enough time to teach them everything. I’m really proud of the students for finding their own information. I consulted with other teachers to find our best three and then we sent them to do their best.

I really enjoyed going to the competition. I wore a tie for the event and another volunteer came with me to cheer on my students. I can’t say how many schools participated overall but they had three separate days of competition, each school going only once. The top three teams and the top three speakers over the entire day were awarded trophies. The debaters ranged a great deal in ability and style. Some were either unprepared or extremely nervous others were rowdy. I saw one girl go up greet the judges, state her position, then sit back down without a single argument with 7 out of 8 minutes to go. Real polite but not quite what you need to win a debate. Another school was apparently coached to be very aggressive. All their debaters walked away from the podium to speak and would stand face to face to confront questions from the other side. I’m still not sure if that was allowed.

My students were well suited for each of the roles they played and were excellent speakers. My first student, Mantolo, spoke as the leader. She clearly outlined our position (in this case we supported the motion) and gave a clear direction of the argument. Polite, clear, and a beaming smile. My second speaker was Thabo. His job is to do the bulk of the arguing. He spent the first part of his time ripping apart the opposition’s main arguments then went into detail with his own well supported argument. For 8 minutes Thabo held the attention of hundreds of students and faculty breaking only to cite his sources for the opposition. I’m pretty he convinced his peers to be bitter about VAT. My last speaker was Mphaki. He is a real character. I don’t want to call him sassy but that is what he was. I think he worked it well though. As third speaker his job is to counter argue the majority of the time and summarize his own sides argument at the end. I was a little nervous at first because he had been sitting on stage silent like a man waiting the firing squad. By the second minute he was on his game denying the opponents’ points of information with rolling eyes and one hand waving them away like they were flies. At one point he started dancing around on stage as he realized that his opponent was asking him a question he could shoot down impressively by quoting Adam Smith.

We didn’t win any prizes. The six trophies were split amongst the three judges schools. Think about that for a second. What is important, however, was that the whole room was buzzing about our performance. My students were happy with themselves and excited to have a chance at the prizes next year.

One Year of Summer

It occurred to me the other day that I haven’t been in winter since about this time last year. I love summer. A clear day filled with sunshine is all I ever wanted and I would much prefer sweating in the sun than freezing in the winter. With this year long summer, I might, for the first time in my life, be looking forward to the winter.

Summer here has been pretty intense. Along with the training and adjusting to life here, the heat was just as strong as any I have experienced. The African sun has burnt my skin and made me peel multiple times while I have been here (I’ll start wearing more sun screen). The hardest thing is not having air conditioning. No where can you go to escape the heat. Sure there is shade in places and cooler buildings but that’s really not the same thing. When you walk around all day in the scalding sun and ride in a minivan packed so tight grown men are sitting on your lap all you want to do at the end of the day is walk into a 7-11 blasting AC and sip a drink with ice cubes in it.

Ha Makhoroana is getting cooler now and I am really enjoying the crisp autumn air. We are just finishing with peach season and supposedly moving on to oranges soon (I haven’t seen orange trees). Some mornings are cool enough to make me curious about winter. There is something nice about having to need my covers in bed finally but I am nervous about living in my hut during winter. Lesotho is the coldest country in Africa. I know it’s still Africa but we do get snow fall here and my site has some altitude to it.

Anyway, just some thoughts on weather. I’m finishing up my first quarter now which I consider a success. I’ve accomplished I think a good deal. Speaking of summer and sunshine, I will be going on my first vacation out of country to Durban, South Africa the first week of April. I will be staying in a hostel on the beach. Maybe some shark diving?

What I’ve Been Eating

If you know me you know I like to cook. Back in the states I cook anything my mother taught me and then some. I like taking what I happen to have around and come up with something great to eat. Obviously, the difference here is that I am limited to what I can buy. The plus side to cooking in a unfamiliar place the availability of new and interesting ingredients. While I’ve been here I’ve started a garden (nothing is edible yet), sprouted beans to eat, and learned to butcher my own meat (this is a rare but great occasion). Although I am living in Lesotho on a strict budget I am learning to create my own meals that often end up awesome. My friend Andre just leant me a book by Anthony Bourdain called A Cook’s Tour. The book is about him traveling around the world in search of the perfect meal. Here’s an excerpt talking about why the French and Italians have such great cooking: “Few sane persons enjoy French pop music – or even the French much – but they know what to do with every scrap of hoof, snout, entrail, and skin, every bit of vegetable trimming, fish head, and bone. Because they grew up with that all-important dictum. Use Everything! (And use it we.) Why is that? Why them and not us? The answer is, in many ways, to be found in Vietnam, Portugal Mexico, Morocco – because they had to.” Sometimes I sit down to dinner and wonder to myself what this crazy concoction is that I have to put down my throat but often I find myself more than satisfied with my creations.

Not everything is completely out there. For instance I still have a variety of breakfasts available to me which are all normal. Eggs are readily available and keep for a long time unrefrigerated (who knew?). I bake my own bread and make Texas toast or toast it in my oven. Corn meal made into porridge tastes just like grits. I can make hash browns, French toast, and pancakes. If I bring back cheese from another town I can even make omelets.

I’ll also have a hot cup of tea or coffee in the morning also. I never packed a way to make real coffee so I’ve been stuck with instant. I hated it at first but I’m starting to get used to the empty taste. I usually use powdered milk also since again milk goes bad quickly without a fridge. A plus side of being in Lesotho is the large Indian population which brought with them their amazing and affordable supply of spices. I have all the ingredients to make fresh chai whenever I want. I use the powdered milk in this also but it really great.

Sometimes I have just improvised when I was craving a particular dish. I’ve made breadcrumbs from bread that was on its way out and I’ve made pasta from flour and water when I ran out. One day I was wishing I could just order some Chinese food. It’s such an amazing service to be able to pick up a phone and have someone bring you a steaming brown bag of food but turns out we don’t have that in Berea. Now I can make some pretty awesome fried rice (ask anyone) but I wanted some gyoza. Those little pot stickers fried, dipped in soy sauce, and served with rice. From making my own pasta I had an idea about what do for the pastry part. I rolled out some pretty generous sized circles and set them aside. For the filling I had cabbage garlic, ginger, carrot (for nutrition?), but for the meat I was stuck. Meat isn’t easy to get here. I decided to throw in this stuff called ‘soya mince’. It’s a ground meat substitute, made from soy beans, and sold dry in boxes. Normally its served as slop on starch. I had some open because I tried it one night to find my dinner was depressing me. So I threw that into the mix and stuffed the dough. I fried half and steamed the other half. I’d infused some red pepper and star anise into some sesame oil I had for the soy sauce. Bought myself a cold beer from the village- great meal.

One of the best meals I had was one weekend I went to a friend’s BBQ. This gets bloody. He starts off by whipping some fish out, fresh from the river. He throws that on the fire with lemon juice, some orange slices and various seasonings. I had been promised a slaughtering and as we were waiting for the fish to sizzle a whistle informs us that our brai (BBQ) meat was walking into the gate. When you think sheep you might a think fluffy, white, frolicking thing but rest assured this one wasn’t cute. It was a castrated male which is supposedly the best for eating. It had horns, it was fat, and as it baa baaed it had the potential to grow on you as any animal might. For those of us present it definitely had greater potential as a tasty meal. I’d killed a chicken in training but that was a lot smaller. I took a knife as three other men held down dinner.

WARNING THE NEXT PARAGRAPHS DESCRIBES KILLING AND SKINNING

I started trying to cut its neck but the knife was as dull as could be and I wasn’t making any progress. I was advised to just stab it, which I did. Thick, warm, dark red blood started oozing out onto the white wool. Guess how I know it was thick and warm. I really felt like I was sacrificing something. Maybe we should have had more ceremony. I thought I was done and we would let it bleed out but they told me to keep cutting through the spine. So there I was shoving this dull blade between vertebrae trying to detach the whole head when I notice the horrible noise. You might have an idea what the scream of an innocent lamb might sound like but it wasn’t like that and in a way it was worse because it was more real. It was trying to breathe and the air was being gurgled in the whole in its throat. It was soon over and although it’s kind of gross to look back on its easy to get over. Everything is used.

To begin preparing a slaughtered sheep you skin it. A few cuts in the right place, and the skin is pulled right off the carcass leaving the pelt in a single piece that can be made into whatever you can think of. The guts are in this sack like thing which is cut open carefully. If the gall bladder is ruptured the meat will taste bitter. With the gall bladder thrown to the dogs the rest of the organs are removed separated and cleaned. The cool thing about a slaughter is the social role everyone plays. Men and women work in groups. The guys work around the carcass skinning and ripping out organs and the women clean the intestines and other organs preparing them to be cooked. I think there are also certain parts reserved for either sex.

Don’t forget the point of this whole thing is to feast. The livers are sautéed with some onions and salt. Not many spices are used for any of the cooking but everything has its own flavor. When the livers are cooked through you just grab a piece and eat. It’s actually pretty good. Head is thrown on the fire and the brain is cooked later. Other organs are boiled down to a stew. I’m pretty sure you can even thicken the stew with fresh blood but we hadn’t collected any. The heart is kind of chewy but really tasty. I think I like that the best. Certain parts go to certain people based on age and social role. I tried everything thereby demonstrating that I am a full man. Normally this is done over two days but we ate the innards for lunch then moved on to the meat for dinner. The meat is butchered right next to the fire into whatever piece you want. I took an entire lamb leg to my mouth and felt like a king. It really doesn’t get much better than that.

School Discipline

I’ve been teaching for a full month now. It’s been an interesting experience becoming a teacher. I teach three 8^th and 9^th grade classes in English Language and English Literature. I’m teaching kids to analyze full books and write their own poems. I never would have pictured myself doing this but I’m really enjoying it. Additionally, as a teacher and volunteer, I’ve inherited all kinds of other projects which keep me busy and entertained. Occasionally, I take a period to teach my classes ‘lifeskills’ which is a program set up to teach the students about health and self esteem and things. Pretty much the period where in American schools the guidance councilor comes in and talks to you about being safe and have a positive attitude about life. I also met the English club the other day that I will be mentoring. There’s a lot of work I can do with them especially since they are trying to tackle such a large variety of activities (drama, poetry, debate, speech). I think they will each have to break off into separate groups. Also, I will try to apply for a library donation from the African Library Project after March, so the students have something to actually read for fun. And, once a week I have to monitor the morning study period. This brings me back to how it feels switching into the role of the high school teacher.

School starts at 7 AM everyday. At 7 AM the students are supposed to be in their classrooms with a book open not talking at all. Like study hall in the library. I’m walking around room to room enforcing this on top of it I’m even telling kids to wear their uniform properly. That really takes me back to St. Mary’s, when I was a student at a catholic high school. I really wouldn’t say anything about their uniforms, but its just that they have their shirts half off neck ties on their heads. We got told to tuck in our shirts at St. Mary’s. Rambo? Really? The sad thing is I see the other teachers walking around doing this rod in hand.

Corporal punishment is widely practiced in Lesotho although policy and law is changing that. This is confusing; no one gets it, hold on. The country is currently considering in parliament, a law making corporal punishment illegal. The law on the books specifies that it is allowed with certain regulations on rod size and other things that are rarely (in my understanding) adhered to. The Ministry of Education (like our DoE) has a policy against corporal punishment right now which apparently has no teeth at all even in the public government schools. Most schools practice it. I think most parents consent of it and want it also. My school does practice but seems open to change. I think my school administrators are really progressive and open to new ideas, which is awesome.

A normal morning of study hall consists of slapping the late comers on the backs of their hands with these sticks. So, a side note, these rods aren’t anything fancy. They are branches of a very elastic and sturdy tree with the small branches just ripped off leaving in place little hard knobs. These things hurt. I usually try to stand there so the kids can skip the punishment. Anyway, the other day they decided to not hit the late kids and instead line them up at the gates all day in the sun where they are supposed to study. I think we can do even better than that but I’m glad they have stopped hitting the kids. There’s a lot more going on with this issue but I think I’ll leave it at that right now