These past few weeks have been kind
of same ol’ same ol’ in terms of life and teaching and settling into a routine.
Some things have not changed: I still hate grading homework, the form As still
give me blank looks when I say almost anything, and I’m still stumbling my way
through pretending like I can teach life skills. I have been reading a lot more
at school. I finished A Clockwork Orange, which was fun to read, but I don’t
know who besides me would have been able to pick that one up from the library
and comprehend it.
Last week (or was it 2 weeks ago? I
can’t keep the monotony straight.) the orphanage had a mokete
(feast/celebration) to thank the Ministry of Agriculture for giving them more
land and to thank everyone who helps the orphanage run. In true mokete style,
there were tents set up for people to sit under, a long series of speeches,
singing, and of course food. Lauren and I helped serve the food in their dining
hall. She said that at important events like this, it’s traditional to serve all
the men first, but I was like pfff, and we just served the people in the order
they were sitting. To round out the after-meal entertainment, the director had
the kids prepare a series of skits. They were very good and quite funny. The
orphanage kids must know a lot more English than the average village kid out
here because of stuff like these skits (which apparently are a favorite of the
director’s and happen quite frequently).
Another break in the day-by-day
came last Wednesday for Moshoeshoe’s Day [Moshoeshoe, as the kids learn in
school, was the “founder of the Basotho nation.”]. Old ‘Shoe’s day is a day to
run (obviously…). All the primary schools in the valley would be competing in
races at the secondary school (my school). I was told that the festivities
would start around 8am, so at noonish, I sleepily stepped out of my rondaval
and into my yard. I looked across the valleys and could see that people were
starting to congregate on the soccer field to watch the primary kids run
against each other around a severely sloped rectangle that served as the field.
One secondary student was put in each race just for fun, and to practice for
their district competition coming up. My students have been training for the
district competition by running long distances on the road. I wanted to run
with them one day, and the teacher in charge of sports naively told them that I
should be the pacesetter. Hah. Soon most of the kids, the majority dressed in
their school skirts or pants and stiff, leather school shoes, zoomed past me,
some grabbing peaches off of branches along the way and eating them as they ran
up and down some killer hills. Later that week, they were running really far to
the next village, so I just waited for them to come back. The other teacher was
like “I’m going to the shop to buy something,” which in bontate language means
“I’m going to the bar. I may or may not be back. Peace.” At least an hour and a half later, they came
back and I did some conditioning and stretching with them. Anyway, back to
Moshoeshoe Day, it was really fun to watch the kids race, including my oldest
ausi who is really fast. She is definitely going to race at the district
competition [update: she placed high enough to go to Maseru to compete, but
placed 4th in her event when they take the top 3 to South Africa to
compete. Sad.].
After standfast and the weekend
after that, I hadn’t been out of the village for at least 3 weeks, and I was
sort of testing the limits of my sanity. Yep, 3 weeks was pushing it. I
promptly decided to go to Mount Moorosi, meet up with another volunteer, and
eat some meat and chocolate. I’m getting pumped for phase 3 training in a few
weeks, where I will be able to see all of the other volunteers again. Then
we’re going on vacation hiking in the north. Woo!
2 nights ago, there was this insane
lightning storm. No rain, but there was just lightning for hours. There was
hardly a 2 second span of darkness with all the electricity streaking across
the sky. Then it started ailing like nobody’s business, which, sadly crushed
the little sprouts in my garden. They have bounced back a little, though, which
is promising. That night, I was just lying on the floor of my house on my rug,
half trying to sleep, half watching the windows light up and listening to the
thunder that continuously growled and echoed through the mountains.
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