Saturday, March 29, 2008
Sani Pass - Durban
Leaving to Maseru straight after school on Wednesday, waiting 45 min for the combi to move from Mohale’s Hoek as the bus took so long to fill up. Reaching Maseru in the dark, Catherine and me were relieved we have trustworthy friends to pick us up and get us to safety…
The next morning we meet our driver for the trip – Teboho – that managed to squeeze 7 of us and all our luggage into his 4X4 drive heading for Sani Pass and Durban. Yehaaa…the sea, here we come!
We drove through the Northern districts of Lesotho, Leribe and Bhuta Bhute on our way to the Sani Pass top nearly 3000m high. Beautiful little roundavel villages, breathtaking views and high raised mountains. We fitted in some altitude training on the highest point, running up the last hill, the muscles completely seizing up and very little air passing down to the lungs. We reached destination around 6 pm in a thick mist, nearly missing the sign for our mountain chalet.
Met some fellow Norwegians on the top. Somehow I was not surprised. Mountain chalet, cold and misty, rough and rugged… Lovely inside though, around the wood fire, and dinner and breakfast was deliciously homemade.
Driving down Sani Pass was an experience in itself. A steep, winding, zigzag gravel road nearly 2000m down. Glad the mist hadn’t disappeared in the morning. The road was too tough for our car in places, so we walked parts of it. I loved it… felt like the mountains at home. Same fresh air, light breeze and smell of mountain herbs. We saw little waterfalls, rivers, birds and plants. .. want to go there again!
Reaching the bottom we had a 2 hour drive to reach Durban, and we managed to squeeze in a puncture on the way. On the motorway that is, not on the dirty gravel roads! Good Teboho knew what he was doing.
We stayed at Banana Backpackers in Durban, a great, friendly hostel where we stayed for four days. The staff took us out to a local mixed bar after we had a lovely SEAFOOD meal by the beach! (ohh… been longing for that for ages…) We were pleased to find much less race issues in Durban than other places in South Africa (Bloemfontein). We met a lot of interesting people from different Southern African tribes; Qosas, Sothos, Zulus… starting to understand the differences.
Other great things to say about Durban… Great mix of people, rough and pulsating, great beaches, GREAT seafood, great shopping. Literally we had a GREAT time there! Wanna go back! Just the holiday we needed!
Hope your Easter was good!
The next morning we meet our driver for the trip – Teboho – that managed to squeeze 7 of us and all our luggage into his 4X4 drive heading for Sani Pass and Durban. Yehaaa…the sea, here we come!
We drove through the Northern districts of Lesotho, Leribe and Bhuta Bhute on our way to the Sani Pass top nearly 3000m high. Beautiful little roundavel villages, breathtaking views and high raised mountains. We fitted in some altitude training on the highest point, running up the last hill, the muscles completely seizing up and very little air passing down to the lungs. We reached destination around 6 pm in a thick mist, nearly missing the sign for our mountain chalet.
Met some fellow Norwegians on the top. Somehow I was not surprised. Mountain chalet, cold and misty, rough and rugged… Lovely inside though, around the wood fire, and dinner and breakfast was deliciously homemade.
Driving down Sani Pass was an experience in itself. A steep, winding, zigzag gravel road nearly 2000m down. Glad the mist hadn’t disappeared in the morning. The road was too tough for our car in places, so we walked parts of it. I loved it… felt like the mountains at home. Same fresh air, light breeze and smell of mountain herbs. We saw little waterfalls, rivers, birds and plants. .. want to go there again!
Reaching the bottom we had a 2 hour drive to reach Durban, and we managed to squeeze in a puncture on the way. On the motorway that is, not on the dirty gravel roads! Good Teboho knew what he was doing.
We stayed at Banana Backpackers in Durban, a great, friendly hostel where we stayed for four days. The staff took us out to a local mixed bar after we had a lovely SEAFOOD meal by the beach! (ohh… been longing for that for ages…) We were pleased to find much less race issues in Durban than other places in South Africa (Bloemfontein). We met a lot of interesting people from different Southern African tribes; Qosas, Sothos, Zulus… starting to understand the differences.
Other great things to say about Durban… Great mix of people, rough and pulsating, great beaches, GREAT seafood, great shopping. Literally we had a GREAT time there! Wanna go back! Just the holiday we needed!
Hope your Easter was good!
Moshoeshoe’s day
For the last three weeks many of the classroom doors have been secretly shut every day in my school, and one has heard steady rhythms, clapping, drumming and chanting voices in the air…
Tuesday was the day of reveal… Moshoeshoe’s day!
My school arranges a Parade of Nations every year, to honour the great Basotho leader King Moshoeshoe, so for morning assembly all pupils turned up in different tribal outfits, and in my international school, even some Western Africans, Indians and last but not least the Welsh (yeah, I do pretend I’m Welsh!).
We paraded around the school in proper African style… no marching in rows, more a random mish mash of singing and dancing. After seating the parents under umbrellas in a big circle, the show began... Traditional stories acted out, stick fighting, ST1-ST2 boys jumping like frogs in traditional undies!?! (haven’t figured out this dance yet), little girls flicking and shaking their bottle top skirts, the tough ST6-ST7 boys doing Ndlamo, rhythmically slapping their massive! Wellie boots, threatening us with their molamu (shepherd) sticks, the older girls were dressed like their mothers, with Seshoeshoe dresses and padded bums and breasts, doing Mokhibo, a kind of housewife’ish dance, pretending to clean and sweep (I think…) Their mothers got totally overexcited during this dance and came running into the circle, screaming and shouting, with money and sweets for their daughters. I decided to keep myself in the background at this stage…
But, I had to force myself into the spotlight as the leader of the Welsh group. “Oh my God”, I thought, how can “Mi Villais Jackador” compete with these amazing rhythms and dances… (Sorry Welsh, not disrespecting your dances).
The novelty factor saved us!
I found out that a boy in my school owned a proper Scottish kilt (…again, flashbacks of “The Last King of Scotland”… happening a bit too often… ) so I decided on a little cultural mix of Welsh and Scottish… They’re all tribes on the same Island, right?... So, the Welsh group consisted of 5 boys dressed up in kilts and 5 girls in “Welsh” costumes, meaning kitchen towels for aprons and handkerchiefs for shawls. Very smart I have to say! They danced very well to the 20 man/woman Welsh choir, singing “Mi Villais Jackador” I don’t know how many times. Both parents and teachers were very impressed, so the concept will be carried on next year!
After entertainment it was time for food. The Welsh (me) dishing up Cawl for 500 people! The other groups were serving traditional Basotho food, including sour bread, sweet bread, fermented sour bread, fermented sweet bread, corn cobs, corn bits, corn + beans mixed, fermented corn + beans mixed, corn + sorghum mixed, corn+sorghum+beans mix, fermented corn + sorghum mixed… you get the idea… makes you feel pretty bloated after a while! I’ve never been so happy to see a pumpkin stew ever before!
After food it was time for the traditional beer, a thick misty liquid that makes you even more bloated and also drunk in seconds! Luckily our self invited guests drank most of it.
By this time most children had randomly gone home. Parents and teachers carried on partying together, becoming VERY excited when I attempted to join them on the dance floor… Ha ha, look at that Mokhoa (white person) trying to move like us. Embarrassing!
Just as most of the teachers had downed a few Smirnoff Spins each, and I thought the party about to really kick off, they all decided the party was over and it was time to go home… very confusing, but probably for the best! The beer had got to me, and at an attempt of a little nap back home, I didn’t wake up until the next morning ready for school again… Not needing to say, not much going on that day!
Sports day
Friday was another important event… Athletics day for the public primary schools!
I rushed to meet the girls and their pupils, as my school is private and does not attend the event.
The children have been training for weeks; the winners will compete against other districts, and finally go to the finals in Maseru. Apparently the boy’s teams are spiked up with shepherd boys, not attending school, but from the district and picked out for their incredible fitness and speed… And calling them boys, many of them are 18-25 y old men, competing for their local schools. Many of them do actually go back to school after working as shepherds, so it’s not unusual to teach married men with children in your class here.
I have to say a few words about the ground. Forget about perfectly painted lanes. The running track was more like a random grassy patch, filled with pupils, teachers, randomers and vans. The poor athletics were sprinting barefoot on stones of all sizes, broken glass and rubbish. But, helek! (oh my god) how they could run! And that in all sorts of random attires, old pyjamas, skirts, shirts, school uniforms, everything goes.
They would have completely overshadowed our children back home!
We left 10 min into a big row of who had won and not. Nothing seemed to be solved and no one seemed to have the authority to say the last word, so we thought the hotel bar was a better option on a Friday afternoon…
Tuesday was the day of reveal… Moshoeshoe’s day!
My school arranges a Parade of Nations every year, to honour the great Basotho leader King Moshoeshoe, so for morning assembly all pupils turned up in different tribal outfits, and in my international school, even some Western Africans, Indians and last but not least the Welsh (yeah, I do pretend I’m Welsh!).
We paraded around the school in proper African style… no marching in rows, more a random mish mash of singing and dancing. After seating the parents under umbrellas in a big circle, the show began... Traditional stories acted out, stick fighting, ST1-ST2 boys jumping like frogs in traditional undies!?! (haven’t figured out this dance yet), little girls flicking and shaking their bottle top skirts, the tough ST6-ST7 boys doing Ndlamo, rhythmically slapping their massive! Wellie boots, threatening us with their molamu (shepherd) sticks, the older girls were dressed like their mothers, with Seshoeshoe dresses and padded bums and breasts, doing Mokhibo, a kind of housewife’ish dance, pretending to clean and sweep (I think…) Their mothers got totally overexcited during this dance and came running into the circle, screaming and shouting, with money and sweets for their daughters. I decided to keep myself in the background at this stage…
But, I had to force myself into the spotlight as the leader of the Welsh group. “Oh my God”, I thought, how can “Mi Villais Jackador” compete with these amazing rhythms and dances… (Sorry Welsh, not disrespecting your dances).
The novelty factor saved us!
I found out that a boy in my school owned a proper Scottish kilt (…again, flashbacks of “The Last King of Scotland”… happening a bit too often… ) so I decided on a little cultural mix of Welsh and Scottish… They’re all tribes on the same Island, right?... So, the Welsh group consisted of 5 boys dressed up in kilts and 5 girls in “Welsh” costumes, meaning kitchen towels for aprons and handkerchiefs for shawls. Very smart I have to say! They danced very well to the 20 man/woman Welsh choir, singing “Mi Villais Jackador” I don’t know how many times. Both parents and teachers were very impressed, so the concept will be carried on next year!
After entertainment it was time for food. The Welsh (me) dishing up Cawl for 500 people! The other groups were serving traditional Basotho food, including sour bread, sweet bread, fermented sour bread, fermented sweet bread, corn cobs, corn bits, corn + beans mixed, fermented corn + beans mixed, corn + sorghum mixed, corn+sorghum+beans mix, fermented corn + sorghum mixed… you get the idea… makes you feel pretty bloated after a while! I’ve never been so happy to see a pumpkin stew ever before!
After food it was time for the traditional beer, a thick misty liquid that makes you even more bloated and also drunk in seconds! Luckily our self invited guests drank most of it.
By this time most children had randomly gone home. Parents and teachers carried on partying together, becoming VERY excited when I attempted to join them on the dance floor… Ha ha, look at that Mokhoa (white person) trying to move like us. Embarrassing!
Just as most of the teachers had downed a few Smirnoff Spins each, and I thought the party about to really kick off, they all decided the party was over and it was time to go home… very confusing, but probably for the best! The beer had got to me, and at an attempt of a little nap back home, I didn’t wake up until the next morning ready for school again… Not needing to say, not much going on that day!
Sports day
Friday was another important event… Athletics day for the public primary schools!
I rushed to meet the girls and their pupils, as my school is private and does not attend the event.
The children have been training for weeks; the winners will compete against other districts, and finally go to the finals in Maseru. Apparently the boy’s teams are spiked up with shepherd boys, not attending school, but from the district and picked out for their incredible fitness and speed… And calling them boys, many of them are 18-25 y old men, competing for their local schools. Many of them do actually go back to school after working as shepherds, so it’s not unusual to teach married men with children in your class here.
I have to say a few words about the ground. Forget about perfectly painted lanes. The running track was more like a random grassy patch, filled with pupils, teachers, randomers and vans. The poor athletics were sprinting barefoot on stones of all sizes, broken glass and rubbish. But, helek! (oh my god) how they could run! And that in all sorts of random attires, old pyjamas, skirts, shirts, school uniforms, everything goes.
They would have completely overshadowed our children back home!
We left 10 min into a big row of who had won and not. Nothing seemed to be solved and no one seemed to have the authority to say the last word, so we thought the hotel bar was a better option on a Friday afternoon…
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Three girls, one man and a goat
Sunday evening as we were peacefully planning our lessons, our neighbor Sebongile dragged us and our cameras over to her house because we HAD to see something…Thank God for that!
The first thing we spot is a dead goat!
The lovely, fluffy goat I passed earlier in the day, strapped to a pole in the garden. Now slaughtered and split open on the ground! Not a favourite amongst the veggies in the group.
Next we see the whole extended neighbor family, standing in a circle around a lady sitting on a chair, only wearing a skirt and bra. She’s surrounded by pots of liquids, herbs, plants, bones and a bottle of whisky and coke! A group of women are dancing rhythmically and steadily, whistling and shaking. A growing group of curious children are forming on the other side of the fence.
… And in the circle, there is the traditional medicine man! I tell you, if you like me, picture an old bearded man with a stick in his hand and beads around his ankles you are totally wrong! This man … the local witch doctor… is VERY good looking… and young!!!
Well, sorry the digression … The ceremony was to bring back the ancestors after our neighbor’s uncle passed away. Apparently they leave when somebody dies and need to be brought back to the family again after the funeral. This is how to do it if you feel the need:
Put a woman, a relative of the dead, on a white plastic chair in the middle of a circle of people.
Smudge her body and hair with the bile from a goat’s gall bladder and a good few liters of goat’s blood.
Wash her with a foamy herb mix.
Light a herb bush and let her breathe in the smoke from it.
Spit whisky and coke in her face and on the burning bush, whilst singing and dancing rhythmically.
Cover her ankles and neck in beads. (The ancestors will then recognize her soul and find the way back to her).
Bring out a gas cooker and put a pot of herbs to boil.
Cover the lady and the pot under several heavy blankets for half an hour steam bath. Make sure you check whether it is hot enough…
Check that she’s properly steamed before removing the blankets.
Let her shake and twitch and scream like possessed!
Let the dancing witch ladies throw themselves around, screaming and shaking like possessed.
Let all relatives throw themselves around, including the very drunk cousin and the 80y old grandmamma with no teeth and nose full of snuff like possessed.
Stop suddenly, and let the ancestors successfully return, conveniently just before dark.
I write it jokefully, but it was pretty amazing to witness a ceremony like this. And that, not in the middle of the jungle, but in our neighbor’s garden. I’m very thankful to them for inviting us over and allowing us to be part something that was very special for them (…and us.) An experience never to forget!
*
Apart from this the highlight of this week has been teaching the children Welsh dances and songs, preparing for the “Parade of Nations” to be taking place on Moshoshoe’s day (equiv of St. David’s day/ 17.Mai) Tuesday 11. 03.
Hope you’re all fine.
The first thing we spot is a dead goat!
The lovely, fluffy goat I passed earlier in the day, strapped to a pole in the garden. Now slaughtered and split open on the ground! Not a favourite amongst the veggies in the group.
Next we see the whole extended neighbor family, standing in a circle around a lady sitting on a chair, only wearing a skirt and bra. She’s surrounded by pots of liquids, herbs, plants, bones and a bottle of whisky and coke! A group of women are dancing rhythmically and steadily, whistling and shaking. A growing group of curious children are forming on the other side of the fence.
… And in the circle, there is the traditional medicine man! I tell you, if you like me, picture an old bearded man with a stick in his hand and beads around his ankles you are totally wrong! This man … the local witch doctor… is VERY good looking… and young!!!
Well, sorry the digression … The ceremony was to bring back the ancestors after our neighbor’s uncle passed away. Apparently they leave when somebody dies and need to be brought back to the family again after the funeral. This is how to do it if you feel the need:
Put a woman, a relative of the dead, on a white plastic chair in the middle of a circle of people.
Smudge her body and hair with the bile from a goat’s gall bladder and a good few liters of goat’s blood.
Wash her with a foamy herb mix.
Light a herb bush and let her breathe in the smoke from it.
Spit whisky and coke in her face and on the burning bush, whilst singing and dancing rhythmically.
Cover her ankles and neck in beads. (The ancestors will then recognize her soul and find the way back to her).
Bring out a gas cooker and put a pot of herbs to boil.
Cover the lady and the pot under several heavy blankets for half an hour steam bath. Make sure you check whether it is hot enough…
Check that she’s properly steamed before removing the blankets.
Let her shake and twitch and scream like possessed!
Let the dancing witch ladies throw themselves around, screaming and shaking like possessed.
Let all relatives throw themselves around, including the very drunk cousin and the 80y old grandmamma with no teeth and nose full of snuff like possessed.
Stop suddenly, and let the ancestors successfully return, conveniently just before dark.
I write it jokefully, but it was pretty amazing to witness a ceremony like this. And that, not in the middle of the jungle, but in our neighbor’s garden. I’m very thankful to them for inviting us over and allowing us to be part something that was very special for them (…and us.) An experience never to forget!
*
Apart from this the highlight of this week has been teaching the children Welsh dances and songs, preparing for the “Parade of Nations” to be taking place on Moshoshoe’s day (equiv of St. David’s day/ 17.Mai) Tuesday 11. 03.
Hope you’re all fine.
Sore bums and rock paintings
What a great weekend!
Zoozy Sue’s birthday, so we decided to celebrate it in Malealea lodge where we could do horse riding. The lodge was very atmospheric and friendly. We stayed in little traditional mokhoro’s (round huts) big enough for two - three people. Lovely to catch up with the “urban” Mafeteng crew and hear news. Compared to us they have both INTERNET!!! and Shoprite, a well stocked supermarket with cheese!
We hired a combi to take us the 3h journey to the lodge, viewing an amazing sunset over the stunning Lesotho mountains along the way. The beauty of this country is difficult to describe and I wished I could show you some pictures. Hopefully soon…
Saturday we spent on horseback. We rode through beautiful mountain landscapes, up steep ridges and down river passes, to a long drop waterfall for a swim. Here I met a fellow Norwegian randomly! In the afternoon we climbed through a proper “Lion King” landscape with huge rocks and ridges, even an echo cave, to see some 25 000 y old rock paintings. They were not even barred of, so we could go straight over to them and touch. Not overly touristy here!
Another fascinating thing about riding through this landscape is that you realize there are villages around you that blends so perfectly into nature that you can’t see them. People pop up from nowhere, carrying out their daily life, platting each others hair, having a chat with the neighbor or riding to the village for supplies.
Reaching back to the lodge we were pretty knackered and sore bummed after 7 hours of baking sun and newly learnt trotting skills, but a birthday party was still to be had. To cut a long story short, it ended in a very jolly night with lodgers from all over the world joining in on communal sing a songs. I have to say the Welsh and Irish where the most impressive, putting the rest of us to shame with their Folk tunes and choir skills.
Sunday is not too much to say about, apart from that the salty breakfast tasted good and the journey back was painfully long.
… Hope I get to an internet soon as I really miss hearing news from back home and want to update you guys on what I’m up to here.
Salang hantle!
Zoozy Sue’s birthday, so we decided to celebrate it in Malealea lodge where we could do horse riding. The lodge was very atmospheric and friendly. We stayed in little traditional mokhoro’s (round huts) big enough for two - three people. Lovely to catch up with the “urban” Mafeteng crew and hear news. Compared to us they have both INTERNET!!! and Shoprite, a well stocked supermarket with cheese!
We hired a combi to take us the 3h journey to the lodge, viewing an amazing sunset over the stunning Lesotho mountains along the way. The beauty of this country is difficult to describe and I wished I could show you some pictures. Hopefully soon…
Saturday we spent on horseback. We rode through beautiful mountain landscapes, up steep ridges and down river passes, to a long drop waterfall for a swim. Here I met a fellow Norwegian randomly! In the afternoon we climbed through a proper “Lion King” landscape with huge rocks and ridges, even an echo cave, to see some 25 000 y old rock paintings. They were not even barred of, so we could go straight over to them and touch. Not overly touristy here!
Another fascinating thing about riding through this landscape is that you realize there are villages around you that blends so perfectly into nature that you can’t see them. People pop up from nowhere, carrying out their daily life, platting each others hair, having a chat with the neighbor or riding to the village for supplies.
Reaching back to the lodge we were pretty knackered and sore bummed after 7 hours of baking sun and newly learnt trotting skills, but a birthday party was still to be had. To cut a long story short, it ended in a very jolly night with lodgers from all over the world joining in on communal sing a songs. I have to say the Welsh and Irish where the most impressive, putting the rest of us to shame with their Folk tunes and choir skills.
Sunday is not too much to say about, apart from that the salty breakfast tasted good and the journey back was painfully long.
… Hope I get to an internet soon as I really miss hearing news from back home and want to update you guys on what I’m up to here.
Salang hantle!
The cannibals – A true story
In the 1800 century poverty was severe in Lesotho and some people chose to become Cannibals to survive. They moved into caves in the mountains and only came down to the villages to catch people for food. The villagers were… understandably… petrified to walk around on their own in fear of becoming today’s special on the menu… and never went out after dark. The story has it that they had a ropes outside their caves attached to catchments nets!!! (Those Donald Duck pocketbook writers had really done their research…) so when it tightened and shook they knew that a new victim was caught.
If you happened to be one of the unlucky ones you had two hopes:
One - If you were a quick runner, you’d be used for catching new food. (I can just picture them sprinting down the mountain, grab a few unfortunate ones and run back up again to put them in the pot).
Two - If you were beautiful, you’d become the Kings new wife. (I guess better than being eaten).
The other day I saw a painting of them. They look pretty grotesque, munching away on their breakfast human skull. A bit more hardcore than Norwegian sheep heads.
… Here I have to add that sharing your lunchbox with colleagues isn’t always the most pleasurable experience, although I’m learning a lot about the local cuisine and generally enjoy it a lot. I am a true believer in eating the entire animal when you’ve first killed it; but I have to say I’m struggling a bit over the chicken necks, intestine tubes (looking VERY similar to worms) and chicken hearts which they so kindly offer me.
*
The Mohale’s Hoek chief came on an unannounced visit today, to check up on our bites and the house (and probably our biscuit tin). Very nice of him!
He cracks me up laughing every time he’s around, sitting there squinting and picking his nose as he’s talking. But really, he is a very lovely and respectful man. He is a retired policeman and is very involved in community issues like teenage drinking, pregnancies and HIV/AIDS.
As the protective dad of 4 girls, he told us that a lebolla (brides price) under 30 cows would not be accepted from his side. The bailers would have to fork out big style. Molikeng, that has helped fixing a few things in the house, were flashing his eyes in the background, mumbling that 10 cows is the going rate and more than enough; he’s still paying installments to his parents in law after a 2 years of marriage.
School’s been ok. Now teaching 2 hours English in Class 1 every day and most days 2 lessons of Art. I’m very pleased to learn how to teach basic reading and writing skills as I’ve never done it before, and the children are learning quickly.
They are quite naughty though, mostly because they’ve realized I’m not going to beat them like the other teachers. It’s hard competing with all the beating, because the children don’t know any other way of punishment. They think everything I do is a game, but slowly and surely they are responding to the “deadly stare” and the “don’t disappoint me” look.
Hopefully my colleagues will take notice and realize there are other methods than the stick, as it is agonizing to see the children being properly smacked around the head and hands or pinched in the arm or ears for very insignificant things.
Looking forward to the weekend when we are celebrating Sue’s birthday at the Malealea Lodge!
If you happened to be one of the unlucky ones you had two hopes:
One - If you were a quick runner, you’d be used for catching new food. (I can just picture them sprinting down the mountain, grab a few unfortunate ones and run back up again to put them in the pot).
Two - If you were beautiful, you’d become the Kings new wife. (I guess better than being eaten).
The other day I saw a painting of them. They look pretty grotesque, munching away on their breakfast human skull. A bit more hardcore than Norwegian sheep heads.
… Here I have to add that sharing your lunchbox with colleagues isn’t always the most pleasurable experience, although I’m learning a lot about the local cuisine and generally enjoy it a lot. I am a true believer in eating the entire animal when you’ve first killed it; but I have to say I’m struggling a bit over the chicken necks, intestine tubes (looking VERY similar to worms) and chicken hearts which they so kindly offer me.
*
The Mohale’s Hoek chief came on an unannounced visit today, to check up on our bites and the house (and probably our biscuit tin). Very nice of him!
He cracks me up laughing every time he’s around, sitting there squinting and picking his nose as he’s talking. But really, he is a very lovely and respectful man. He is a retired policeman and is very involved in community issues like teenage drinking, pregnancies and HIV/AIDS.
As the protective dad of 4 girls, he told us that a lebolla (brides price) under 30 cows would not be accepted from his side. The bailers would have to fork out big style. Molikeng, that has helped fixing a few things in the house, were flashing his eyes in the background, mumbling that 10 cows is the going rate and more than enough; he’s still paying installments to his parents in law after a 2 years of marriage.
School’s been ok. Now teaching 2 hours English in Class 1 every day and most days 2 lessons of Art. I’m very pleased to learn how to teach basic reading and writing skills as I’ve never done it before, and the children are learning quickly.
They are quite naughty though, mostly because they’ve realized I’m not going to beat them like the other teachers. It’s hard competing with all the beating, because the children don’t know any other way of punishment. They think everything I do is a game, but slowly and surely they are responding to the “deadly stare” and the “don’t disappoint me” look.
Hopefully my colleagues will take notice and realize there are other methods than the stick, as it is agonizing to see the children being properly smacked around the head and hands or pinched in the arm or ears for very insignificant things.
Looking forward to the weekend when we are celebrating Sue’s birthday at the Malealea Lodge!
South Africa, water and cannibals.
So, after the shopping spree in South African Bloemfontein, it was a relief getting back to Lesotho. The people are much friendlier and more open here and the natural beauty of this country is unbeatable… saying a girl from Norway. Also I find that the Basotho people live in tune with nature and have a strong community spirit, while Bloemfountein felt a little like being on a Hollywood film set with staged white people living the “perfect” lifestyle… In the middle of Africa. Apparently there have been racially motivated demonstrations recently in this town and it doesn’t surprise me, having felt the atmosphere in this town.
Church is a very important part of people’s life in Lesotho, just as much for the community spirit as the religion I’d say. This is where people meet, and almost every weekend our colleagues will go to either weddings or funerals. Not that I think that many more people get married or die here than back home, but people seem to participate in everyone’s services. “We can’t say no to the free food!” my deputy head explained… That just before we were holding a “St. David’s day” party for our colleagues, hoping for a joint effort on the food front…
God knows how people can afford holding these massive parties, as they are expected to provide the food (which has to be meat) and alcohol for all the guests.
*
It is a relief being back in our house! It feels much cleaner now as we’ve thrown away the heavy dusty curtains, dried flower arrangements and random plastic decorations. New bed sheets and mattresses also helped.
Our posh house has electricity, indoor toilet and hot + cold water compared to our neighbors. They seemed very impressed. The only thing is that our area often has a water shortage because of the many thunderstorms!?! Yeah, with all this water streaming down it doesn’t make sense, but apparently the water pumps are turned off during rainfall because the pumps brake when they get mud stuck in them. And mud there is A LOT OF here. Brings back those happy summer festival feelings, sliding around in flip flops!
Anyway, this means that a lot of the time there is no water at all in the taps, hot or cold, neither in our Water Closet! So, really, we’d probably be better off with an outdoor toilet… We’ve become very good at “showering” in a small bath tub and I decide to not mention the state of our hair. I’ve really started considering dreads! Drinking water we fetch in real African style in big containers at the communal borehole tap by my school.
I don’t mind doing this as we really experience how valuable water is and learn not to waste it.
This weekend Catherine’s friends have visited from UK. It’s been great to read the gossip magz and… ohh… News! There really is a world out there!?!
Today we took our guests for a real taste of Mohale’s Hoek… the Cannibal Caves!
We started up with 8 of us and ended in about 25 people, children and adults joining us on the way. It turned into a great party of games, dancing, songs and cream crackersJ as we reached the caves… so we kind of forgot about the cannibals altogether. Further research need to be done!
Church is a very important part of people’s life in Lesotho, just as much for the community spirit as the religion I’d say. This is where people meet, and almost every weekend our colleagues will go to either weddings or funerals. Not that I think that many more people get married or die here than back home, but people seem to participate in everyone’s services. “We can’t say no to the free food!” my deputy head explained… That just before we were holding a “St. David’s day” party for our colleagues, hoping for a joint effort on the food front…
God knows how people can afford holding these massive parties, as they are expected to provide the food (which has to be meat) and alcohol for all the guests.
*
It is a relief being back in our house! It feels much cleaner now as we’ve thrown away the heavy dusty curtains, dried flower arrangements and random plastic decorations. New bed sheets and mattresses also helped.
Our posh house has electricity, indoor toilet and hot + cold water compared to our neighbors. They seemed very impressed. The only thing is that our area often has a water shortage because of the many thunderstorms!?! Yeah, with all this water streaming down it doesn’t make sense, but apparently the water pumps are turned off during rainfall because the pumps brake when they get mud stuck in them. And mud there is A LOT OF here. Brings back those happy summer festival feelings, sliding around in flip flops!
Anyway, this means that a lot of the time there is no water at all in the taps, hot or cold, neither in our Water Closet! So, really, we’d probably be better off with an outdoor toilet… We’ve become very good at “showering” in a small bath tub and I decide to not mention the state of our hair. I’ve really started considering dreads! Drinking water we fetch in real African style in big containers at the communal borehole tap by my school.
I don’t mind doing this as we really experience how valuable water is and learn not to waste it.
This weekend Catherine’s friends have visited from UK. It’s been great to read the gossip magz and… ohh… News! There really is a world out there!?!
Today we took our guests for a real taste of Mohale’s Hoek… the Cannibal Caves!
We started up with 8 of us and ended in about 25 people, children and adults joining us on the way. It turned into a great party of games, dancing, songs and cream crackersJ as we reached the caves… so we kind of forgot about the cannibals altogether. Further research need to be done!
The bug story – chapter 2
Ok – So it wasn’t animal lice after all!
After internet research in Maseru we decided on bed bugs. Not the easiest bugs to get rid of, apparently, but after all the work done to the house including fumigation, painting, varnishing and carpet cleaning, we hope they are long gone! ALL our clothes have been washed and ironed and we are getting new mattresses and bed sheets. We’re moving back in after a trip to Maseru to renew our visas and a shopping spree in South African Bloemfountein.
On Sunday we were invited to a meeting with the people of Mathlakeng, our neighborhood. It was held on a grassy patch in the end of the village. First hardly anyone turned up because of a torrential thunderstorm, but when the rain had stopped the Chief himself appeared, and we, the four white girls, were sat down on white plastic chairs in the middle of the circle. Proper modern twist tribal style!!! This was followed by a long speech in Sesotho, where people nodded and agreed. We smiled and nodded back, hoping for the best. (…hmm, didn’t they use to have cannibals in this area!!??!) Then we were asked to speak… They seem to accept our smiles and thank you’s, and we were officially welcomed to the area and dismissed from the meeting.
We were taken back to the hotel on the back of Frans, our South African handyman, bakkie. He and his family have been very kind and helpful to us when this bug story really kicked off, and it’s good to know that people are looking out for us, even though we find the Afrikaans way of treating the local people hard to swallow. Hopefully we can influence at least their children a little when it comes to racial equality!
School is good some days and frustrating others. It is hard to teach little 6-7 y olds when you can’t speak their language and they run riots around you. But they are very willing to learn, and respond very quickly to songs and rhythms. Like Norwegians born with skis on their feet, these children must have popped out dancing and singing. They are used to copy everything the teacher says, so I have a class echo every time I open my mouth. Even my mimics are thoroughly copied. Now the little 6 y olds are walking around greeting each other “Hello” “How are you?” “I am very well thank you, and how are you?” in a high pitch voice. Comic!
Sometimes I think the children make bets on us whities, as we experience children running up to us to touch the “mohora’s” skin, then sprinting away giggling. We’ve also heard that our hair is worth 10 rand a straw, as it is used in traditional medicine to make people rich! Great to know in case our funds run low… but thinking of my financial situation at home I’m worried the medicine will turn out to be a bad batch.
I hope you are all fine! I have to admit that I feel homesick now and again and that I miss you all, even though it is a great adventure being here.
x
After internet research in Maseru we decided on bed bugs. Not the easiest bugs to get rid of, apparently, but after all the work done to the house including fumigation, painting, varnishing and carpet cleaning, we hope they are long gone! ALL our clothes have been washed and ironed and we are getting new mattresses and bed sheets. We’re moving back in after a trip to Maseru to renew our visas and a shopping spree in South African Bloemfountein.
On Sunday we were invited to a meeting with the people of Mathlakeng, our neighborhood. It was held on a grassy patch in the end of the village. First hardly anyone turned up because of a torrential thunderstorm, but when the rain had stopped the Chief himself appeared, and we, the four white girls, were sat down on white plastic chairs in the middle of the circle. Proper modern twist tribal style!!! This was followed by a long speech in Sesotho, where people nodded and agreed. We smiled and nodded back, hoping for the best. (…hmm, didn’t they use to have cannibals in this area!!??!) Then we were asked to speak… They seem to accept our smiles and thank you’s, and we were officially welcomed to the area and dismissed from the meeting.
We were taken back to the hotel on the back of Frans, our South African handyman, bakkie. He and his family have been very kind and helpful to us when this bug story really kicked off, and it’s good to know that people are looking out for us, even though we find the Afrikaans way of treating the local people hard to swallow. Hopefully we can influence at least their children a little when it comes to racial equality!
School is good some days and frustrating others. It is hard to teach little 6-7 y olds when you can’t speak their language and they run riots around you. But they are very willing to learn, and respond very quickly to songs and rhythms. Like Norwegians born with skis on their feet, these children must have popped out dancing and singing. They are used to copy everything the teacher says, so I have a class echo every time I open my mouth. Even my mimics are thoroughly copied. Now the little 6 y olds are walking around greeting each other “Hello” “How are you?” “I am very well thank you, and how are you?” in a high pitch voice. Comic!
Sometimes I think the children make bets on us whities, as we experience children running up to us to touch the “mohora’s” skin, then sprinting away giggling. We’ve also heard that our hair is worth 10 rand a straw, as it is used in traditional medicine to make people rich! Great to know in case our funds run low… but thinking of my financial situation at home I’m worried the medicine will turn out to be a bad batch.
I hope you are all fine! I have to admit that I feel homesick now and again and that I miss you all, even though it is a great adventure being here.
x
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