29 October 2014: Pitso

                A pitso is basically a village meeting called by the chief whenever something of importance needs to be discussed. In this case, we were invited to the pitso to formally introduce ourselves to the people of the village. It was weird, though, because we had already been there for like three weeks, and everyone pretty much knew us. As if I needed to tell anyone my name- everyone is always up on the Senate gossip anyway. We all sat in several rows of chairs on one side while the Basotho sat on chairs, benches, and blankets to complete the circular crowd. We had to dress nicely, aka skirts and hats/bandanas for the girls, and we sat as some people took turns presenting whatever it was they had to say. Then we went up one by one and said a mini speech in Sesotho about ourselves: what family we lived with in the village, where we come from, why we are in Lesotho, that we are very happy to be here, etc. Then the women sitting in the front got up and sang and danced. They have so many songs and dances that are commonly known across the entire country. One of the dances involved the women sitting on their knees and swaying and jerking their shoulders forward and back, and the other was them dancing in a circle and clapping out a rhythm as they sang. Every time the Basotho sing, it’s like automatic beautiful multi-part harmony without seeming to try. It sure put us to shame when it was our turn to sing. The only song we collectively knew was the national anthem, and since most Americans aren’t so good at singing, especially this very difficult song, I think it’s safe to say they only applauded out of courtesy when we were done. Perhaps out of pity, more like.

                At dinner that night, my ‘me was asking me if I drink beer, because she had heard of other women volunteers who were drinking at the bar, and I could tell she obviously didn’t approve. I haven’t been to the bar yet because I don’t want that reputation hanging over me, what with how much people talk about me anyway. After that, we started cooking dinner. I was especially frustrated at the cooking situation of not being able to make my own food and being subject the dietary whims of my family. We should have been able to cook for ourselves at least a week ago, and many people are getting frustrated. It’s all carbs all the time, with a little bit of veg drenched in oil. Occasionally meat, but not often. I was cutting an onion on a flat surface, like I’ve always done, and my ‘me is like no, no, and tells me to hold it in my hand and cut it with the jankiest knife I’ve ever seen, with the handle and blade held together by a loose wire. Good thing it was dull as a bowling ball, though, or else I would have sliced right through my hand. This painstaking process took much longer than normal, and thus I promptly got onion eye burn. Nevertheless, I got to make my own papa and serve myself however much I wanted, which was like less than half of what my family normally gave me. I can’t hardly wait until next week when the PC gives us our food allowance and we can actually cook for ourselves.

Learning how to teach Life Skills during training- Tyler helps prep condom balloons for our group’s game. Each one has a question inside relating to condom use as HIV prevention. As we pass them around the circle hot-potato style, if you end up with the balloon, you have to pop it, read the question, and give an answer.