27 October 2015: Colleen visit/HVV/VAC

                Colleen’s visit

                A few weeks ago, Colleen had to move out of her village because there had been too many murders. She fought to stay because she was getting really involved at her school, including doing all the things required to help a Form E girl apply to college in the US with a special scholarship. But then an old nkhono [grandmother] was killed as she was alone in her house, and our PC security staff said that this was the last straw. Colleen was told to leave her village as soon as she could and stay with another PCV for a few days, so she came to my village. As she was getting off the taxi after the long ride to my village, in a clustermess of communication, the security guy called to say that he would be in her village the next day to move her and all her stuff to her new site, and that was the only day he could do it because he had other places to be for the next few days. Good job, PC. Nonetheless, I met her as she got off the taxi at my school. I had just finished teaching for the day, so we scooped up my dog and walked to my house. We attempted to make a cake in celebration of 1) one year in Lesotho, and 2) her survival in the wake of these murders and the hope for a good new start in her new site. The cake sort of failed because I only had brown bread flour, so it was more like dense, chocolatey bread with an improvised icing on top. Whatever- we still ate it. The next morning, I walked her down to the road to catch the taxi out of my village. Oh well, at least she got to visit me once before she got shoved out of the district. Now that she’s gone, I’m the only one from my training group in Quthing. There are 3 Ed14s who are leaving at the end of the year. Two of them might be replaced, but it’s not looking too good. So if that doesn’t happen, I’ll be the only one here. I wouldn’t be too upset in a practical sense if that happened, because we Quthingers don’t get together all that often, and I usually go to the camp town to the north of mine anyway. However, in principle it’s kind of upsetting. Quthing: The Lost District.

                HVV [Host Volunteer Visit]

                If you have been following my blog for a while, reader, you probably read my post wayyyy back about me going on my own HVV trip to see a current volunteer while I was still a trainee. Well now the tables have turned. Now that I’m a big, bad, experienced volunteer, I got to bring two trainees to my site. It’s the circle of life. On Tuesday, I had been hanging out in Mohale’s Hoek (the aforementioned north-er camp town) as per usual, and the ducklings arrived with mother duck Justin (a fellow Quthing PCV) all the way from TY, the camp town north of Maseru. They left at about 8am and trekked all the way down here. Good thing PC assigned current volunteers to travel with them, because they’d only arrived not even two weeks ago, and they’d be totally clueless without someone. I picked up my little pumpkins Heather and Susan. Justin and his people, along with me and mine, waited in the rank for a Quthing taxi to fill up. The boys got off a bit before Quthing town, and we went all the way to the rank there, then got another taxi to Mount Moorosi. It was already 5pm when we arrived there. I had never gotten a taxi from there back to my village past like 1pm, so I was kind of wondering if there would be one when we got there, but one of the other teachers at my school had assured me that the last one leaves at about 5 or 6. There was indeed a taxi for us, and we waited for it to fill so we could go to my village. The whole trip from when I picked them up to then, I had been kind of nervous that we might not make it to my village, but with my newly-adopted “It can’t not work out” attitude, I wasn’t too worried. We were all super tired, my ducklings especially after their 12 hour day of riding in, or waiting for, taxis, when we arrived in the dark to Ha Makoae. I pointed to a lighted window wayyy up the hill that I guessed was my host family’s house and said we were headed up up up to that point. We thus headlamped it up the mountain to my house.

                The next day, I took them to school where they watched me teach a few classes, then we went to the vet to get Bo a rabies shot, then to the shop/bar where they were so excited to find that they sold maquenyas (little fried bread balls). Then we headed down to see the orphanage, then back to my house. They were showing me on whatsapp what others in their group were posting. While other hosts were making their ducklings bacon, pancakes, tacos, and pizza, I gave them a taste of real life PCV food. I live in the sticks, so I don’t have access to all that schmancy stuff. My fancy attempt at food was baking a loaf of bread and making lentil/vegetable soup. Not too shabby, actually. To pass the time, we played cards and they obsessed over my dog.

                The following day was the day I put them to the test. I made them teach a double B and a single A math class. They wanted to see one of my lesson plans to see how I did them. I dug one out from January, as I had promptly stopped making them after a few weeks of teaching. Especially if you make them like the ministry wants them, it’s such a waste of time. You can come up with examples without planning them out exactly? Madness. In class, they tag teamed the classes- pretty good! I think this definitely boosted their teaching confidence. In the afternoon, for the form A class, they really didn’t feel like teaching; it was after lunch and they were tired. I welcomed this sentiment with a, “welcome to my life,” and made them press on.

                I set off with them out of my village the next morning, a Friday. When we got to Quthing town, I plopped them on the Maseru sprinter with Justin’s HVVs. I got on a different taxi with Lauren (the one who lives in a  neighboring village to mine), as we were both headed to Mafeteng for the…

                VAC [volunteer advocacy committee] meeting

                The VAC is a committee for PCVs to tell the staff what they think should be changed or improved about PC. Each district has a representative. Lauren is the current rep, and since she is leaving and I’m gonna be (maybe) the only one here next year, I am replacing her. The people replacing leaving volunteers were invited to participate in this meeting just to see how it’s run.

                I got off the taxi in Mafeteng and headed right for Shoprite, the big grocery store. The lines were insane, I’m guessing since everyone in Lesotho just got paid. Why they all get paid at the same time is a huge mystery to me. They even had Christmas decorations up. Someone said that since they don’t have Halloween or Thanksgiving beforehand, it’s not so weird to have xmas stuff up this early. I promptly turned around and got out of there, and I headed to the Catholic Training Center, a hotel where we would be staying before we had the meeting in one of their conference rooms the next day. Cassie brought her teeny 1 month old puppy, and it was chilling in the grass, tied up to a nearby tree. I could not handle its little face- cute overload.

                In the morning, we had the volunteer-only portion of the meeting. Each district had to report on what the people there said. Wow, people complain about some stupid stuff. But each comment has to be included as per the rules. Then came the volunteer + staff portion. We relayed the comments to Wendy and Debra numbers 1 and 2 of PC Lesotho. Meeting conclusion: medical is awful and staff communication is almost nonexistent. Yay. In the end, the meeting ate up almost the whole day, and someone was like, “Wow, this is the fastest we’ve ever had the meeting! Good job, guys.” Are you serious. Can you tell I’m not too enthusiastic to be the VAC rep next year? Oh well.

                This sentiment kind of adds to my sour mood of just being so done with school. The form Cs are taking their exams, so they’re not having classes. I’m jealous. I was always like this when I was a student, being over it when the school year end was on the horizon. Now I know teachers feel the same way. So I don’t just leave you stewing in my done-ness, I’ll tell you what I’m looking forward to: going to training in a few weeks for the new trainees, Halloween (I’m not doing anything, but it’s a thing I can look forward to anyway), and VACATIONS! I have 2 planned- Madagascar (woo!) in December and Durban over New Years. Now THAT’S what I’m talking about!

I went to Lee's school one day. Here he is in action. 

HVV food

Cassie's puppy, named Maluti

Found this at a chinese shop. Did they mean "start?" Nah.

The cacti are in bloom

Students prepping food for the Form C farewell party 

Bo Doggie Dogg

The motoho my host grandmother gave me. It's kinda gross, but good thing the dog likes it, haha. 

Happy Halloween!

This is the best I could do out here in the booneys. Butternut, pumpkin, same same. 

17 October 2015: Photo odds and ends

Abuti Thabo

 Ausi Rorisang in her colorful blanket

Handstands and pushups. Wherever did they get the idea to do that, I wonder?

My neighbor, Ausi Fundisoa, rocking the mohawk better than anyone I've ever seen

One of many super cool birthday cards I got. Thanks for the love, y'all!

Wildfire across the valley

Colleen came to visit Bo (and me)

Form Cs studying for their JCs (national exit exams)

The form Cs are pretty cool peeps

The government is finally doing something about that horrible, blasting taxi music? Probably more like cracking down on famu gang violence. 

8 October 2015: One year down!

As I sit here over my trash fire, the plastic burning a deep blue (how romantic), I am reflecting upon the past year I have spent in Lesotho. It’s really hard to believe that my time in PC is almost halfway over. I can’t say that it flew by; it really didn’t. Especially the long days of training, the month I spent doing absolutely nothing at site, the long hours at school waiting for my next class, and the cold, dark, winter afternoons I spent huddled in blankets just waiting to feel tired enough to fall asleep. In these boring moments, I have finished over 25 books and audiobooks (a lot for me. I never used to read for fun.), almost exhausted what I thought was an unexhaustable podcast library, taught myself to be a Sudoku master, attempted knitting, experimented with different recipes, played cards with my ausis, built and planted a garden, scrambled and unscrambled my Rubik’s cube, wandered around my village aimlessly, adopted a puppy, and watched more movies and entire series than I care to admit to. But, reader, don’t think that I have been bored all the time. I have actually accomplished some things. Over this past year, I have become a friendly face to the people of my village, and what I consider to be successfully integrated as a full member of this community. I have gone from knowing only how to say hello in Sesotho to being able to comprehend most (I think) of what people say to me, even if I can’t communicate back to them as fluently. I have come to know the kids of the orphanage, teaching some of them gymnastics, teaching others English, and finding comfort in the ease of a conversation in fluent English with the director over a tasty lunch. I have almost survived my first year of teaching math(s), computer, and life skills. It still amazes me how far some of my students have come. For example, my form A computer class started not even knowing how to hold a mouse or how to turn on a computer. Now, they are typing with confidence in Word, drawing pictures in Paint, and even using formulas in tables they made with Excel. I have learned how to teach on the fly, coming up with examples and problems as I need them. I have also come to realize not to stress too much about my students, realizing that the ones who want to learn will put in the effort. I have also come to see the value in occasionally getting off topic with my students, asking about their lives and entertaining all of their questions, no matter how strange they may be. When I can get away from my village, which I do every few weeks to retain my sanity, I have been able to travel near and far. I have become quite a hiker, something I never thought I’d get in to. Apart from the recent 3-day hike from my house to Semonkong, I’ve hiked all the way through one of the national parks, through one of the most remote parts of the country, all the way to the swankiest ski resort in this corner of the globe. I’ve hitchhiked with a few creepy dudes, a few savvy women, and a lot of average joes who like to ask me about what I’m doing here. I’ve driven through the empty, sandy deserts of Namibia and shopped ‘til I dropped at the ultra-modern malls of Johannesburg. I’ve become used to lunches of papa and moroho, while being able to escape to town to get a pizza every once and a while. I’ve seen what it’s like to live among people with barely any possessions to their name, though I’ve realized that even though more than half of this country technically lives in poverty, their wealth of meaningful relationships with family and neighbors overflows more than that of your average person in any developed country. I’ve done laundry in the river and washed my hair in a bucket. I’ve taken more uncomfortable taxi rides than I’d like to recall, and I’ve had the weirdest conversations with people from all walks of life. I’ve been addressed as ‘me (ma’am), ntate (sir), ausi (sister), and abuti (brother). My hair has gone from mid-back length when I arrived to half an inch long during training to a respectable, almost ponytail-worthy length now. I’ve taken pleasure in burning my trash in the ravine and feeding my food scraps to the pigs. I’ve harvested plants that I myself grew from seed to food. I’ve become familiar with the tiny paths around my village, knowing which ones to avoid when it rains and which ones to take for an exceptionally good view. I’ve come to love the mountains that surround me like a mother’s arms in the most beautiful village in this country (I’m not biased or anything…). So here’s to another year and change, to new experiences, to learning about myself and others, to life in Lesotho. Let’s do it! 

6 October 2015: Spring break hike to Semonkong

          October 4^th was Lesotho’s independence day (from England in 1966 in case you care), so for the week of spring break/independence break, I managed to convince Chelsea, Kyle, Lea, and Kristin to hike from my house to Semonkong, a town roughly 50 km (as the crow flies) north of my village. The appeal of Semonkong is that it has a giant waterfall, and, incidentally, the “largest commercially-operated abseil [repel] in the world,” plus a nice lodge/restaurant we planned to camp at when we got there. We planned for 2 or 3 days, depending on how fast we walked or how lost we got.

On Monday, I walked down the hill to the road with Bo to wait for their taxi to arrive. It was exciting to have visitors to my village for once. The only other time someone came to my village was when Lee came in January or some time around then. The road has been mostly graded since then, so their trip was (relatively) comfy cozy on the way down here. They were all tired and sweaty from the taxi ride, so we decided to head down to the river, where we promptly decided not to swim, as we had attracted a sizeable group of kids asking us for candy. I kinda plopped Bo in the water just to see how he’d like it. He didn’t seem to mind the water, but it was too shallow to swim. We then hauled ourselves (and the food I had asked them to bring from town) up the hill again to my house. My ‘me was excited to meet all of them.

          Over a game of Canasta, we roughly planned our starting route over the big mountain across the valley and to Colleen’s house, our mid-day goal. We had asked one of Colleen’s teachers how to get there, as he had led scout hikes from his school to mine and back, so we trusted he knew the way. However, both my ‘me and my oldest abuti (back from high school for the break) said that the way the teacher had suggested was no good because apparently there were a lot of dogs that way. That route would have led to the red and white striped cell tower at the top of the mountain. Instead, we decided to go up the other side.

          Route planned(ish), we made a delicious meal of couscous with raisins, onions, butternut, carrots, and tomatoes. The r
ussians (sausages) we ate were the result of me going to the shop with the intention of buying chicken, but realizing there were only chicken heads, feet, and livers available, I reached for the Russians in the freezer. The shop lady told me something like I couldn’t buy those because she was just keeping them frozen for someone else, but she grabbed a different bag and rung those up for me. Protein, check. I was happy to be able to have an excuse to cook the (expensive!) couscous I found in Maseru. Having experienced Friday Family Couscous in Morocco, in my mind, couscous needs to be a group event. You can’t respectably eat couscous by yourself. After eating, like clockwork, we fell into the all too familiar couscous coma.

          The next morning, we packed up and headed off to tackle what I have informally named Thaba [mountain] Grande, that big sucker that dominates every view from my village. The hike up wasn’t too bad- granted, we had fresh legs (except Chelsea and Kyle, who had hiked all day out of their village to the camp town, this as an alternative to their taxi that has inspired several horror stories). After reaching the top, we wound around to the side of the mountain, where we found some beautiful little villages. We ended up on some road that took us up the back of the mountain, and guess what, we saw the cell tower right there- the one we had probably reached in about half the time had we gone the way the teacher had recommended. We likely wasted a bunch of time circumnavigating the mountain, but it was a pleasant hike and the scenery was beautiful as always.

          We wandered around along different paths for a few more hours, asking every other person we came across if we were heading in the right direction, and consulting a blurry map printed from Google maps. We had wanted to get a legit map from the land survey office in Maseru, but every time one of us went to get it, they were closed for one reason or another or the printer was broken. From a sloped path on the ridge, we finally saw the paved road and a school. We took a chance and guessed that it was Colleen’s school, and descended down toward it. Luckily, it was, and we found her in the staff room grading some tests that she was reviewing with the Form Cs. Since they would be taking their exit exams very soon, the Form Cs were in school for the week of the break to get some last minute revision in. We sat in the staff room with her, and she told us all about how she was in the middle of negotiating with PC to try to stay at her site even though there have been 5 murders in her village. Between rival Famu [ear-splitting Sesotho music] gangs fighting, butcherings due to advice of the local witch doctor, and land disputes ending in a shopkeeper’s murder, PC thinks it’s not such a nice place for her to live anymore. She managed to convince PC that she needed to stay because she was helping a Form E student apply to colleges in the US since she had won a special scholarship. She elaborated on the nightmare that was the logistics and execution of getting this student to Durban to take the TOEFL.

          We soon left her village, needing to cover a lot more ground before nightfall. We followed one valley that we hoped would bring us to our next big landmark, the Senqu river. Our final descent, following the directions of a herder with perfect English, led us down a path where we were able to see the elusive spiral aloe plant. We were all slipping and sliding down this path of loose rocks, then we arrived into a village. A girl, maybe ten years old, walked with us as we trekked through the village. This often happens- people who are bored or curious will just walk with us for a little while, talking with us and asking questions. While the rest of us kind of ignore these people, Kristin is very happy to entertain their conversation and chats everyone up.

          We saw a suitable place to camp for the night and asked the girl if it was ok if we camped here. She gripped each side of her skirt with her hands, her arms turned out and straightened, as she insisted that we had to go see the chief and tell him that we wanted to spend the night in the village. We were so exhausted by this point that we tried to tell her that this probably wasn’t necessary, and that we would be perfectly content here. She kept insisting, so we just told her to go tell the chief that we were here. She came back with him, and he was incredulous at our choice of camping site. Lee kept insisting that we would be fine, already starting to boil water on his little camp stove. The chief wanted us to go to his house and stay there on his land. We just wanted to eat and go to sleep, and we weren’t looking for someone making a big deal out of us. Eventually, he was like “ok, well, I don’t approve of your choice, but whatever.” He started to walk away when Chelsea pointed out that, Basotho being very passive aggressive, he was probably going to send some bad voodoo our way. With Colleen’s story about the witch doctor telling a mom to butcher her kids fresh in our minds, we got a little freaked out and promptly gathered up our stuff and followed the chief back to his house. After a little walk and crossing a stream, we got to his compound and started to unpack and set up our tents. We had a bit of an audience as expected, but they only talked to us for a short while and then left us alone to cook our soya mince. One of the girls talking with us, in some crazy coincidence, had graduated from the school Lee currently teaches at. She also had a baby tied to her back, and she told us that the baby on her friend’s back was its twin. Twins are really rare here for whatever reason. She had named them Mpho and Limpho, Gift and Gifts. I thought this was amusing, but if I were Mpho, I would always be jealous of Limpho, because multiple gifts, being plural, will always be superior to just one gift.

          We woke up, thanked the chief and his family, and headed off again. We made it to the huge Senqu river. We waded out to a sand bar in the middle and took a break to swim and wash some clothes. After that, we crossed to the other side and walked through a village where many of the rondovals were made with walls of vertically lined up tree branches. We sloughed out way up a steep incline that we hoped would somehow give us some potential energy to slingshot down the next valley that branched to the right. Up at the top, it was super windy, but this was refreshing, as the sun had come out and it was keeping us cool. We stopped at a little trickling spring where we used a herdboy trick of putting a piece of plastic in the stream to redirect the water enough to fill our water bottles. Don’t worry, mom, we had iodine tablets.

          After a few more hours of walking, it started to rain and the wind was blowing dirt and sand all over the place. Thankfully, we had stopped at a school to see if their taps or water tanks had water we could refill with. Chelsea, Kyle, and I took refuge in this little empty rondoval that used the thick, asparagus-looking trunks of the tree thing that grew out of the giant aloe plant as walls. With a break in the rain, we all converged at a working tap to fill up, but the rain started again, and we all huddled in or behind the block of toilets nearby. We hung out here a while, using the excuse that we needed to wait for the storm to fully pass. When we figured the storm was gone, we packed up again and kept walking. By this time, I had several very painful blisters on my left foot, and my right foot was taped up to support the arch whose ligaments had been injured in the Thaba Mokhele debacle several months earlier. I was very happy when we decided to stop for the night, finding a really nice, sheltered spot near the river. We made ramen noodles over a fire and settled in.

          The next morning, we headed off in the hopes of reaching Semonkong mid-afternoon. We just had to keep trucking until we got there. The landscape turned from smooth mountain slopes to sharp cliffs, and we had to keep crossing the river in order to find the path. Eventually, we got to the big mama mountain, which we were told was the last thing between us and Semonkong. We saw the switchback trail from the base of the valley. This wouldn’t be easy. As we bushwhacked up to the trail, the mountainside got steeper and steeper, like a 45 degree (or more) pitch for a lot of the way. I was grabbing at plants to keep from sliding backward. This path would definitely not be doable on the way down. You’d just end up sliding on your butt all the way down. As per usual, Lee was chugging ahead, in his method of just getting it over with as fast as possible. Behind him was Kyle, who, in the “worst shape of his life” was at some points literally running up the mountain (in sandals) with a gigantic pack holding both his and Chelsea’s stuff, and he was even happily pointing out little rock rabbits he saw up in the cliffs. After this exhausting slog, we popped up on top, and an insane view of vivid green grass and blue sky opened up before us. Whew!

          We found a road, and realizing that we were a good three-hour walk to the actual town, we luckily found a passing pickup truck that we were able to pile into the back of. With the wind whipping around us, we glimpsed the famous waterfall to our right. Normally, we would have wanted to stop for a photo or two, but this truck was taking someone to the hospital in town, so we didn’t want to interfere with anything there. They dropped us off and pointed us to a path, saying that the lodge was that direction. More walking. Joy. Stiff and aching, we arrived at the lodge and managed to get the last camping spot. Lee, Kristin, and I promptly ran over to the frigid river for a swim, enjoying plunging in from the rope swing. Practically starving, we went over to the restaurant, super excited to eat something that wasn’t peanuts and raisins for once. Little did we know that this restaurant was perhaps the best in Lesotho. As per usual, Lee ordered almost everything on the menu, inhaling beet soup, a cheese platter (with the kinds of cheeses we had given up believing existed in this country), and some springbok carpaccio. And the bread basket! And real butter! Omg. Then the main course came out, a huge piece of braised lamb with vegetables and mashed potatoes. It literally fell off the bone. Then we finished off with some cherry crumble thing with whipped cream. I was in heaven. Apparently, the chef is American. This made me proud of the good ol’ stars and stripes.

We went back to the restaurant for breakfast, then headed off to the taxi rank, where we were able to get a taxi to Maseru pretty quickly. The trip was only 2 hours, and we got to the Maseru rank where Kyle and Chelsea headed north, Kristin got on a bus to the next town south, Mafeteng, and Lee and I went to Mohale’s Hoek. The next day, we hung out with the Hoekers at the hotel and I was so ravenous that I got a chicken basket (like chicken strips) from the awesome chicken place, then I split a big pizza with another volunteer from the hotel kitchen. As you can see, good food has become a highlight of my entries here.

          The next day, I completed the full loop by taxiing back to my village. Feet blistered and taped up, legs sore, joints aching, I arrived back at my house. We walked a total of about 45 miles, climbed 12,600 feet, and reached a maximum elevation of 8000 feet (thanks, Lee, for Google Earthing our path). Never did I think I would become such a hiker, but there is really no better way to explore and really get the feel for the country.

12-13 September 2013: Bday!

                Today is my double golden birthday. What is a double golden birthday, you ask? Well, a golden birthday is (apparently- I just learned this recently) when your age matches the date, for example if you turn 15 on the 15^th of the month. Today I am 24 on the 12^th, hence double golden birthday. I got here to the Catholic Training Center/hotel  in Mafeteng two days ago for a meeting for resource volunteers. Resource volunteers go for a few days to the training villages to help the staff train the newly-arrived trainees. They chose me to be at training for two different weeks- for the Supervisor/IL (IL = introductory liaison, meaning a co-worker who’s supposed to help you get oriented in the village and in your school) workshop, then a few weeks later for practice teaching, where the trainees get two weeks to practice teaching in schools near the training village. I got lucky to be helping out at the Supervisor/IL workshop because that’s held at the hotel in Mohale’s Hoek, which is where I go normally to hang out when I’m in town to use the internet, steal a shower, sometimes use their pitiful excuse for a gym, or go swimming. Plus they're gonna feed me so much. Meat, here I come. Then for practice teaching, I’ll be staying in their training village, which is the same one I did my own training in, so it’ll be nice to go back and visit. I get to skip a lot of the PC “Global Core” BS sessions, which were utterly useless. I’ll actually be helping them with practical skills while they teach. I’m excited for the new trainees to come. There are 37 (!!) of them so far, but I think a few more will probably drop before they actually arrive. My group started with 33 and they thought that was big.

                This week, since it was my birthday week and all, I’ve been a bottomless pit eating all the junk food I could get my hands on. To top it all off, I bought two big tubs of ice cream at Shoprite and all the people staying for the meeting ate it with spoons we borrowed from the dining room here at the hotel. Today, I’m gonna see who shows up to have lunch at a kick-butt braai restaurant in Mohale’s Hoek, the next town south from here. Good thing I’m getting into working out more now that it’s warmer outside. Otherwise I'd be as big as a bo'me by now. 

                I distinctly remember last year on my birthday. I was prepping to come to Lesotho, spending all my money at REI and on Amazon buying lots of stuff. It was great. 

                In village news, my tap has been disconnected from the water supply, who knows why, so I have been either walking to the disconnected pipe (which only sometimes leaks out water) or to the tap way on the other side of the small valley with two 2L bottles. I have to go every day to get water this way because I can’t really get so much at a time, but I do enjoy doing curls and other little exercises with the full bottles on my way back to my house. Sometimes, people look at me weird, but I’ve really stopped caring at all about what other people think about me here. Kinda took long enough, but it’s very liberating. I was thinking about how people are not robots, but unique individuals with quirks and different personalities and habits and preferences. Why not just embrace mine and do overhead presses with my water as I walk? 

                In dog news, little Bo Jangles was sick last week- he was lethargic and not eating, so I took him to Ntate Thembiselli, the agriculture/animal guy who lives just above the clinic. Nice guy. He told me to feed the dog 3 spoons of oil, then he gave him 2 shots- one for stomach issues and one for skin parasites, since I had found some ticks and stuff. I had to carry the little squirt there and back in my arms because he would not walk anywhere without literally being dragged. Pro tip: if you want to integrate fast, get a pet that you take with you everywhere. I’ve had to talk to a lot more people than normal borrowing and scavenging for things, getting medicine and other supplies, etc. “Mphe eona,” people say. Please give it to me. I just laugh and keep walking.

                In school news, I’m starting a PC grant for a secondary project to finish a half-built block of classrooms. They’re having trouble getting villagers or parents or whoever to help build it. The community is totally not behind it. We’ve had two pitsos (community meetings) where like five people showed up, and the new chief (the oldest son of the recently-deceased old chief) said he would try to convince people that this was a worthy cause to contribute to. I don’t think it’s gonna be so easy. If I were a villager here, I wouldn’t want to help build a classroom for this school because it really wouldn’t do me any good. My principal’s argument is that it will save them money because the school will have more room to hold students, and parents won’t have to pay to transport and board their kids to the other high schools, which are at least 30km away. She can barely get enough kids as it is for the school now. The village sees through all her futile attempts to convince them. But I’m still helping write this grant. I’m making other people do all the work- I’m just typing it into the system. I’m really not supposed to help at all except for typing the actual thing and giving general advice. It’s up to them if it follows through.