What a Bleeper Bleeping Day

Thank goodness my day is almost to a close and I can say that it is ending on a much better note than how my day had been playing out.

 

I woke up this morning ready for the day and went through my usual ritual.  I even woke up early enough before my alarm that I had time to finish a great book I was reading (The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society) AND make spiced apple crepes while still managing to leave promptly by 7:30am for my hour walk to school (for those of you trying to do the math, I woke up around 5am!)

 

As I was walking peacefully in the sunshine I noticed a man riding a horse with two donkeys trotting alongside him and his galloping horse.  I mindfully established my path and moved out of the way.  One ass (true to its name through and through), despite ample trotting room started to veer in my direction and was heading straight for me!  If I hadn’t ran off into the grass I would have been pummeled by that jackass! Unbelievable.  I nearly lost my morning coffee.

 

Once I got to school I taught my English lesson and then observed the cooperating teacher “teach” a lesson.  What ensued broke my heart and I left the school grounds.  The students hadn’t remembered the information they had taken notes on yesterday, so out came the thick whipping stick, and with every question the teacher asked that the students did not respond to or answered incorrectly, they got beat.  I sat there quietly, wincing at every “THWACK” I heard.  One little girl started to cry which only fostered more lashes.

I remember how violently my heart broke and ached the first time I witnessed children getting beat at school.  I haven’t been in the presence of corporal punishment for a very long time because my teachers know and understand that I do not agree with it and do not want to witness it taking place.  I am not here to change my teachers’ opinions on whether or not they should beat their students, I have simply asked for a mutual understanding and that they not do it in my presence.  They have observed me in the classroom and know of my alternative classroom management strategies, but today was a good wake-up call, I suppose.

 

Like I said, I left school and went home before I bursted out in tears.  I had already taught my planned lessons so there was really nothing keeping me there, and Lord knows I needed to get away.  Luckily I did not run into any donkeys while walking home, but rather, had a lovely walk with a woman.  I greeted her as I passed by, but then she wrangled me into conversation.  She asked questions in English and I responded in Sesotho.  It was so pleasant.  She was walking with a one-month-old baby on her back to the clinic that’s behind my house.  Just as we were nearing our destination the baby started to cry; I asked if I could sing a lullaby that my mom used to sing to me.  I started to sing and the baby’s crying came to a halt.  I couldn’t believe it (and was brought to tears at the deepness and profundity of that moment).

 

How could I have gone from a near death (please excuse the hyperbole) donkey tackling, to a heart breaking experience, to a sheer humbling and uplifting human encounter?  Honestly, I swear, the emotions I experience in one day are like those of a menopausal woman! 

Cinco de Mayo…Shanelle Style

Yesterday was Cinco de Mayo and although I have no Mexican lineage, my two best friends are part Mexican, so I feel like they allow me the street cred to celebrate Cinco de Mayo. Unfortunately, I could not be with either one of them (one being in America and the other living about 2hrs from me) so I created my own celebration.

I took advantage of being in town over the weekend to buy some ground beef (as if I hadn’t eaten enough meat throughout the weekend) and I tried my very best to make Tortilla Soup. I can’t say whether it was correct or not because I had never had it before, but whatever I did make ended up tasting pretty damn good! As a margarita substitute I had lemon-lime Crystal Light and enjoyed my meal while watching the movie, Tortilla Soup. The movie didn’t have the best story line in the world, but my goodness were those food frames pornographic! It made me so excited to be able to eat good and real Mexican food once I get back to the States.

As I learned from my very first holiday celebrated in Lesotho (Halloween, 31 October 2011) they are celebrated and commemorated very differently than in America. Most of the holidays that are all hyped up and commercialized in the States are not even recognized in Lesotho. I’ve had fun teaching my kids and family about different traditions in America and whether it’s a party of just me or a gathering of many, celebrations are what you make of them. I try my hardest to celebrate little holidays the best that I can…even if it’s just soup, a wannabe margarita and a movie.

Basotho Know How to Throw Down

This past weekend I stayed in the camptown for the first workshop of the semester with the Lesotho College of Education. It’s been a bit of a hassle with them this year (as you can see considering the school year commenced in January and we are just having our first workshop now) but it seems like things are ironed out now.

I was looking forward to a relaxed, quiet weekend of teaching my sessions and then hanging out in my hotel room. I had been dreaming of ordering the best chicken in the world from this bar/’restaurant’, which I did, but once I got to the hotel and met up with my colleagues who had just traveled from Maseru, I was told that we were invited to a “to do” at a school and we must leave immediately. I lapped up the drool that had been accumulating from the smell of the chicken in my hands and sadly bid it adieu. Little did I know that leaving my precious chicken behind was the beginning of one of the best nights I’ve had in Lesotho!

When we arrived at the school we heard music and could smell braai stand smoke…meat was still to be in my near future. The teachers and school board had organized this generous party for us to thank the College for all that we do. We were treated like royalty and feasted on pork, chicken, sausage, chakalaka (a tasty mixture of veggies in a spicy sauce) and papa (cooked maize meal). As if that wasn’t enough, they had an endless supply of hard ciders, wine, beers, you name it! I opted for Coca-Cola but the hostess with the mostest insisted that I drink, so I indulged her and had a glass of red wine while the others drank merrily. After eating like kings and queens the music went back on and we danced for hours on end! My face started hurting from smiling and laughing so much. I could not think of anywhere else I would have rather been. About an hour or two later a new platter of freshly grilled beef came out! I could not believe my eyes, and although I had had my fill, I have learned never to turn down a good piece of meat.
By the stroke of midnight I was dead tired but everyone else seemed to be like energizer bunnies and did not show any signs of slowing down. Once one o’clock rolled around I had to call it quits and I asked to be taken back to the hotel room, but those teachers and my colleagues kept going until 3/4am!!! I was put to shame, but I cherish my rest and I know when to pull the plug, but those seven hours of eating, dancing, conversing and laughing are by far among the fondest memories of my time as a Peace Corps Volunteer.

Naturally Mosotho

Last week was jam-packed with activity! Eleven schools in my area came together and had a Track and Field competition minus the “Field” activities. Students competed in different metered dashes, relays and longer distance runs. The weather was on our side and I was very impressed with all of the competitors.
I have found myself getting really emotional and sentimental about things now that my countdown to leaving is ever-present. In the warmth of the sunshine and surrounded by beautiful mountains, my teachers and students I started crying. I realized that I will not be in Lesotho for the next Sport’s Day. I was also fairly overwhelmed by everything; I took a step back and noticed how integrated I am and how I have been graciously woven into my community’s tapestry. Students were greeting me, I knew most of the students there, I was chatting it up with the teachers there and even maintained my good and reputable standing by greeting and talking to the representatives from the District Education Office. My life and the life of those there were intertwined as one of the same.

A couple days later, Patlong Primary hosted a Prarents’ Meeting which I attended. I was of course invited to sit up front at the table along with the principal, village chief, village priest and school board members. The entire 4hrs were conducted in Sesotho, of course, even including the impromptu speech that my principal had me give. I half expected it but I was still nervous nonetheless. I surprised myself, though and spoke for a good two minutes all in Sesotho and afterwards I was praised by a few teachers and parents on how fluently I speak Sesotho (I use the word fluently quite loosely!).

I am just so happy and feel blessed to be a part of Lesotho’s fabric.

Hooray! I Know How to Crochet!

It’s official, I am now the coolest 23-year-old grandmother-ish woman! I not only drink tea and read myself to sleep every night and dream of culinary adventures but I now crochet. It is actually a very satisfying hobby and lovely pastime, especially for being a Peace Corps Volunteer. I commenced my crocheting journey on Sunday and finished my first scarf today (it’s Wednesday!). Granted, this scarf is not elaborate and is the basic stitch through and through, but I feel more confident and am ready to attack a pattern for my next crocheting endeavor. My only concern is that the book I have is written in a completely different language (no, the words are English, but the terms and phrases might as well be Latin for all I care). I shall prevail, and don’t be surprised if upon my return to America you are given a crocheted gift. If you are interested in something in particular, feel free to let you know and you could even send me the specific yarn you want it made out of *wink, wink*

Let There Be Light

My life in Lesotho has forever been transformed by the introduction of a light bulb to my rondavel! I think I’ve explained my makeshift electrical outlet that I have (I have a wire extending from my host family’s outside light that stretches and winds around into my rondavel and is attached to a single outlet. I therefore have electricity to charge my phone, ipod and laptop…when the electricity in my village works, that is). Alas, I digress. I now have a light bulb that was somehow finagled into a contraption that is connected to a wire and has a plug at the end.

This all went down on Monday and I was actually excited and looking forward to it getting dark so I could plug in my light bulb. Lucky for me, it gets dark around 5/6pm nowadays, so as the sun made its exit, my light bulb made a debut appearance and the smile on my face has now left my face. I still get so happy when I plug it in every night. I can’t begin to explain how this has transformed my life. Not only am I able to stay up later, but I don’t have to confine all of my daily activities to sunlight hours AND I don’t get as depressed in the morning when I wake up to darkness either. It’s easy to take the luxury or electrical lighting for granted, but I pray to God that I can continue to marvel every time I plug in or switch on a light! If I feel powerful and cool when I light up my rondavel each night, I can’t even imagine how baller God must have felt when he said “Let there be light” and there was light. In complete honesty, the first time I plugged in my light I said those exact words in a very verbose voice hahahaha!

YAY to a New Friend!

I have a new girlfriend who’s living in my village! Yes, I have many friends (that do not exceed the age of 12yrs old) but Keke is young, educated and so much fun. She is an answer to prayer because as much as I love my life here, the wintertime tests all my limits and it will be nice to have a friend close by.

Keke just recently moved to my village from Maseru and will be working here at the MCM Clinic right behind my house for the next few months. She stopped by my place a couple weeks ago to introduce herself and basically said that she’s looking for a friend. This reminded me of the good old days when I vividly remember my mom teaching my how to introduce myself to new people. “Hi, my name is Shanelle. Want to be my friend?” and my answer to Keke was YESYESYES!!!!

She stops by every day after work just to say hi and we hang out on Sundays. She also has a BlackBerry so we can communicate for free. We talk about village life, boys, cooking and read trashy magazines. As trivial as it may sound, it’s little things like that that keep me sane. This new relationship has revealed to me what a gift friendship really is. I didn’t realize how desperate I was for a friend until out of the blue, one came knocking on my door.