My First Few Months in The Mountain Kingdom

And so here I am, two and a half months in country with exactly two years left ahead of me. There is so much that I will learn about this place, my job, and more than anything – myself. So now I will sit back and take an inventory of what I have learned and experienced so far.

Perhaps I should start with what I learned today that led to me having enough time to sit down and write.  Basotho (the people of Lesotho) do NOT like cold weather despite the fact that it is surely one of the chilliest places in all of Africa. I gave myself a series of motivational speeches this morning to get myself out of bed. It was soooo cold, and I could see that it had snowed quite a bit during the night. Finally, I emerged from the depths of my warm, cozy bed. I made breakfast and got dressed in about 1,000 layers including the new, sweet gumboots I bought last week! So I made the arduous journey to the school…okay, it’s only a three minute walk – get off my case. I waited for the Director to arrive only for him to say that the instructors will not show up today because it is so cold, and they will not be able to make it from their homes in the village. So as soon as he walked through the door, he told me to go back home and enjoy my day of rest. 

Day of rest??? What does he think I was doing all day Saturday and Sunday while I was bored out of my gourd? Well, anyway, I will make the best of it and stay warm and dry – and reminisce on my time in Lesotho so far.

The first day in Lesotho was a rollercoaster of emotions. Arriving in the airport was exhilarating, but the excitement would soon fade as I asked the Training Director a series of questions (dear to my heart) while on the way to our host villages.

First – “Have our host families hosted volunteers before?”    “NO!”

Okay, I can deal with that.

Second – “Do our host families speak English?”     “NO! And those that do have been told not to speak English to you to ensure that you learn Sesotho.”

Yeah, the panic is beginning to set in puh-retty hardcore at this point.

I plead with her – “but I do not know ANY Sesotho. How will this work?”

“It will be okay. You will see.”

At this point, I’m thinking I am in the car with a psychopath who somehow enjoys seeing Americans squirm under stress and have heart attacks. (It turns out, btw, that she was completely right.) I keep my freaking-out emotions under control – for now.

When we turned off the main road into our village, the driver LAID on the horn for the entire 12 minute ride to the chief’s house. It was the announcement that we had arrived. The children rushed the SUV we were in and ran behind the car until we finally arrived at our destination. We were greeted by essentially the entire village – way too many people to count at that moment. About seven women came to embrace us and shake our hands…these turned out to be our host mothers. My emotions completely overcame me, and seeing the outpouring of hospitality really started the waterworks for me. Thankfully, I had huge sunglasses on, so the whole breakdown was undercover.  One woman in the village came up to us and started SCREAMING “yaaa yaaa yaaa yaaa”, and I seriously thought she was possessed or something! (I would later realize that this is a sound the women make to express extreme happiness or delight.) They greeted us in a very typical and welcoming African way – with songs.

After the greetings, we met our host mothers and were to walk to our homes with them. OMG, the walk from the chief’s house to my house was directly uphill. So I got to my house, and it was just me and my host mother (who speaks very, very little English). I was trying so hard to communicate with her, and she was trying just as hard with me. She left me in my room to set my luggage down and get a little rest. Well, I started freaking out a little. “What was I thinking coming to a country where I don’t even know the language? How stupid are you, Tara? Seriously. You can’t even say a simple sentence in Sesotho. All you have is Hello. This is ridiculous. Really ridiculous.”

There was no time to beat myself up for long because we had to return to the chief’s home for the rest of our group’s arrival. When I got back down there, I started feeling a lot better. Seeing everyone else reassured me that I was not in this alone. They were there to support me, and I was there to support them.

From that day, the learning began at full speed! It didn’t slow down for a second. We learned the language to a level of survival at least. I can say (in very simple terms) most things I need to say, and when I am unable to express myself in Sesotho, there is usually someone around who speaks English.

The people are amazing!! Especially my host family. And the kids, oh man, I love the kids. Don’t get me wrong, I had a run-in with a couple of brats. You know I set them straight realllll fast! One child told me, "You will give me the toy from your room NOW!"  I thought, "Heifer, you do not know who you are dealing with, so I'm gonna let this slide (kinda)." I gave her a "Tara look" and said that her mother would not like what she just said. It happened a few more times, and I finally got stern enough that it ended. Yeah, Tara don't play that!

Onto adorable, precious children who do not require scornful words and faces. One day I was sitting on the couch with my host sister (who is a year old and apparently not latrine-trained just yet), and I picked her up, sat her in my lap, and began playing with her. Well, the little turd proceeded to pee ALL over me. Have mercy, I was sitting that child down and running to my room to change clothes so fast that I was probably just a blur. Clearly having not learned my lesson, I picked the little angel up the next day, and she bit my boob – HARD! It brought tears to my eyes, but I still love that child. I just use a great deal more caution when holding her now.

The food is amazing (sans the sheep intestines offered to me one day), and the mountains are breath-taking! I have met friends who will be life-long sharers of my memories, and that is a priceless thing. You are never so close to a person as when you have to poop beside each other – that’s what my gut instinct is telling me at this point anyway.

 This is a great place to spend 27 months of my life, and I cannot wait to see how much more I learn, experience, and explore here.

P.S. I got to live one of my (many) dreams last month: I turned 30 in Africa!! Wooo-hooo!!