Quaqua school trip

230 6-8 y olds and staff were going on a school trip to Quaqua, the Basotho cultural village funnily enough based in South Africa right over the border to Lesotho. Breakfast and lunch was provided, so Thursday night all teachers stayed after school to cook and pack the food for everyone. After the 197th lunch pack, there was no more chicken so all teachers scratched their heads, had a long discussion about the problem and sat down to watch me count them all again… obviously no point of helping out… and surprisingly, yes, there still was 33 pieces of chicken missing. The time was close to 6, all shops were closed and take off was at 5am!!! the next morning. What should we do? “KFC in Maseru” someone shouts. We’d pass there the next morning… Problem sorted, done and dusted!

The 5 am take off stretched closer to 6.30, before the 2 ½ buses were filled with children, teachers and food. God only knows how we got the right children on the buses as it was pitch black and we couldn’t really see who was who… A lot of the responsibility for being in the right place at the right time seems to be put on the children themselves, even at this early stage. I guess this is why they are so street wise!

So, at 6.30 we woke up the whole neighborhood, as the music was pumping out of the windows and 230 over-excited 6-8y olds were screaming and shouting and dancing their socks off (in the bus) on their first ever school trip!

And a long, adventurous journey it was… nearly 7 hours it took us to reach destination. Before that we’d crossed the border to South Africa, had one kid hit by a car!!!, had 230 children trying to push themselves into two toilets, breakfast served on the road side and numerous pee stops where luckily no children were left in the high grass! Fortunately after the first blast of excitement and Whop Whooping, most children fell asleep in big heaps everywhere, as there were at least two children pr. bus seat…

As we reached Maseru border post, many children (somehow!?!) manage to “escape” the buses to go to the toilet, and as I came proudly out of the passport office with my new ZA stamp well in place, Me Belina grabbed me and commanded me to look after a boy lying on the ground… A mass of adults and children had gathered and some were anxiously pointing here and there and loudly discussing in Sesotho. The poor boy was crying and shaking and I had no idea what was going on before someone shouts in English, “Me Silje, he was hit by a car!”

Shocked I ran for the first aid kit, as the school’s designated first aider was not to see, and started checking for broken bones. Not the most pleasant experience! Luckily nothing was broken, only a swollen, bruised knee and a shaken boy, which after a long sleep and a bandage, was ok to limp around with us at destination.


Just over the border we stopped for breakfast, all children having a goodie bag of polony meat, rolls, juice and an apple each, all distributed by the teachers. Everyone was happy again, dancing and singing to “I wanna fly, over the rainbow sooooooooooooo high!”.

We reached Quaqua after driving through some spectacular Drakensberg mountain sceneries. The children were amazingly still in good spirit after nearly 7 stuck on a bus… I’d like to see that happening at home!

Great village, a shame we have to rush through it all, as we are meant to reach back home for 7 pm! This is what we did:

First we visited the Chief to ask for permission to enter his village. After all teachers had shared traditional beer with him (in front of the pupils) we were accepted and went on to see the witch doctor! He showed his special witchdoctor house and threw his stones for good fortune. We felt safe! Next, a walk past traditional Basotho weapons, spears and shields, to pay the chief’s wife a visit. She had no less than 3 roundavels, enclosed in her own little courtyard surrounded by strong straw walls. She showed us the traditional women’s wear and served us sour porridge and crushed corn, salt and sugar powder. From here we ran passed some women smearing a floor with cow dung and a band playing traditional instruments before we had to go back to the bus to eat lunch…

Strangely there were still 33 meals still missing, because no one had stopped in Maseru KFC!

Somehow we managed to get some food from the village for the children, and half the teachers went to the nearby town to get extra supplies (and a probably very planned secret KFC visit!!!) Helek, what can one say… Everything goes in Sesotho, so it is not easy to understand what’s going on until it is already gone on…

The journey back was long but beautiful. I got to know my young teachers better, which was very nice, as in school I see mostly my fellow Standard 1 teachers. Me (Miss) Selloane lives next door to me, and it is great knowing some young people in the neighborhood.

The children were dropped off along the way, and picked up by dads and mums and sisters and brothers and aunties and uncles, covered in blankets and duvets and woolly hats and wellies, all having a great party waiting for their loved ones to return home in the dark. No winging here for bringing their children home about two hours after agreed time!

I crashed out early that night, my head full of new impressions, smells, tastes and rhythms.