Almost
two weeks ago, I left my village for Mohale’s Hoek (but what else is new…?) I
met up with Jen and we got some good work done on a pamphlet on alternatives to
corporal punishment. I may not be a PCV anymore, but I’m still keeping good on
my previous commitments to other PCVs.
It was hard to look
up stuff, though, because the internet was really slow due to a ton of people
at the hotel at a two-week-long workshop on how to conduct the census that will
happen next month. This year, they’re going to use tablets (donated by the US
government apparently) to gather information, so the process of tabulating data
should be much faster.
That
evening, Lea and Katie returned from Cape Town. I was really happy to see Lea,
as I hadn’t seen him since he went crazy and went home. He was back for a short
vacation with his mom that they had been planning for a while now. He had a
rental car, so we all drove back to his house, and we (read: I, as my Sesotho
is the best) had some somewhat awkward conversations with his host family about
the fact that he wouldn’t be coming back once he left again in a few days.
The
next adventure, after we picked up Emily on the way, would take us to Maseru
where I went to the embassy to turn in my application for a new passport. Since
I had to return my PC passport and my personal passport is nearly full, I
decided that a new one would be in order, since I planned to do a lot of
traveling. Then we headed to the fancy Lesotho Sun/Avani hotel and ate at the
Chinese restaurant inside. Then we headed up to John Lee’s house outside of
Maputsoe, a town-between-camptowns north of Maseru. Lea was thinking about
spending the night there, but he really wanted to get back to Mohale’s Hoek, so
he left. After some great fried rice and sleepily watching Forrest Gump, I promptly
crashed. The next morning, we left his village of Fobane by Venture (converted
SUV with sideways seats in the back that face each other) and arrived at the
Maputsoe junction. The taxi rank there is one of the most vicious ranks in the
country, with guys that will literally fight over you to get you in their taxi.
We just put our heads down and walked straight out of that warzone, blinders
up. We quickly got a hitch straight to Butha Buthe (2 towns north), which was
pretty lucky, considering there were 3 of us. Emily kept going north, but John
Lee and I waited at the PCV hangout, the Crocodile Inn, for Kyle and Chelsea to
arrive from a hike out of their very remote village. Finally, the hiking gang
was all together.
The
4 of us got a taxi to Ha Molumo/Tsime, a village that would start us off on the
right direction on our planned hiking route. The road was pretty gnarly, and
the driver was mere centimeters from hitting a cow and having to slam on the
brakes no less than three separate times. At the end of the road, we got out
and asked directions to the first destination of the day. The guy we asked said
(in English), “Let’s have a talk. My name is _____. I live in Lesotho.” Well,
duh, but way to get the most out of all your English phrases. We started
climbing and climbing. We got the usual surprised whistles that come from very
rural Basotho seeing white people. There were sprawling fields of pink and
white flowers blooming everywhere, which not only enhanced the beauty of the
hike, but enhanced my sneezing. Seasonal allergies are real life, people.
Oh the walk, Chelsea
was telling me about an RPCV from Lesotho doing anthropological research about
birth and other sexual issues. She is interviewing women in Kyle and Chelsea’s
village. Chelsea told me about what this RPCV has found so far, and it’s scary
how normalized rape and violence against women is here. As the sun started to
set, we set up camp on this little “balcony” poking out of the mountainside. We
talked to a few passing herdboys as we made a fire and cooked ramen noodles for
dinner.
The next morning, at
about 4:30am, our wake-up call came in the form of a herdboy yelling down to us
(in English), “It’s time to wake up! It’s time to continue on your journey!”
And after meeting another 2 mountain boys who dressed up for us to take their
photos, we did just that. Our destination for the day would be Solane Falls, a
short, wide waterfall with a pool at the bottom. On the way, we were surprised
to meet a woman walking in the mountains. None of us had ever seen that; it’s
normally exclusively men and boys that take these long journeys to walk from
remote villages to towns, as she was doing. We also saw a man on an upper peak
singing and waving his stick in the air, his blanket blowing in the wind and
his voice echoing off the valley walls. He looked like a wizard. At the end of
a tiring afternoon, we found Solane Falls where we swam in the freezing water.
Fishing was attempted, but not successful. A little herdboy wandered through
with his cows, and he performed his best bird whistle for us. It’s still so
amazing to me how talented these boys are with whistling.
The next day, super
jello-legged, we headed out to Kyle and Chelsea’s village of Motete, first
stopping at Ha Lejone to visit one of the remote schools Kyle and Chelsea
taught English and life skills at occasionally. We peeked in, and there was no
furniture whatsoever, and only a broken piece of blackboard resting on the
floor. Apparently, all these remote schools have to go with donkeys to
Chelsea’s school in Motete to collect food from the World Food Programme, which
provides the food for all the primary schools here in Lesotho. Kyle ran up the
hill to visit this boy they had met who had polio and is handicapped. They
recently brought him some crutches they had found in Maseru so he could get around
better, and Kyle wanted to check up on him. Then, after walking on the road
alongside two herdboys (one on a horse, one on foot) and their pack of dogs, we
reached Motete with plenty of daylight to spare.
The next day was
Easter, so the taxis were on a weird schedule, so we just hung around Motete.
The other three went on another fishing attempt as I took a nap and
un-jello-fied my legs a little bit with some much-needed rest. After they got
back empty handed, we saw a gathering of people who we later learned were
apprehending a horse thief, who they would later make parade around the village
in shame before they would probably beat the crap out of him.
John Lee and I
headed out the next morning. We weren’t trying to make the 6 hour journey on
the taxi to Hlotse and pay M100, so we only took the taxi M20 worth to the Kao
junction where there was a big mine, where we walked for a long time waiting
for a hitch to take us to the main paved road. We didn’t foresee that the
previous day being Easter, there would be no one going out from the mine, as no
one was probably working there yesterday, and it was still morning so no one
would be leaving work for the day. Eventually, we got 2 hitches to the road:
one with a mine worker in a little, squat truck going a short way down the road
followed by two bulldozers to work on something, then one with a Chinese guy
who passed us earlier that morning going the other way, had a meeting, then was
driving back (that’s how long we were walking) and picked us up. After a very
bumpy few hours in the back of his truck (John Lee rode in the cab), we made it
to the highway. We flagged down a truck going our way and convinced the driver
to let crouch among the crates of beer bottles and bags of peaches. After a few
stops to cool down an overheated engine, we made it to Butha Buthe and got some
plate food. We happened to be sitting next to our friend Adrian’s principal,
who recognized John Lee from a workshop and drove us to Maputsoe. John Lee
headed off for his village, and I got a ride with an old guy who stopped for
eggs at an egg farm. It was amazing- 1200 chickens in one warehouse stuffed
into rows and rows of little cages. The worker there filled up 2 trays by
picking up eggs that had recently been laid and that had rolled into a little
collecting trough. Let me reiterate that life is always more interesting when
you hitch. Then, I got another ride in a big, nice truck, first having to
explain to a confused ‘me (when she asked what to call me) that people call me
ausi, abuti, ntate, and ‘me, but I’m in fact ausi (sister). Then she got out
and it was just me, the driver, and one guy sitting with me in the back seat.
This self-professed “drunkard” was popping the bottle caps off of his quarts of
Maluti with his teeth, and turned out to be a harmless criminal investigator
cop. He asked me for advice on how he could date a white girl. I started off by
suggesting that he move to a country with more white girls. They dropped me off
just south of Maseru at the Masianokeng junction, and I quickly found a
sprinter and paid M10 to get to Morija, where I would be staying with Lisa and
Ryan for the night. Total cost for the day: M30. Not too shabby!
The next night, I
stayed with Colleen in Mohale’s Hoek, then the next morning I got a mini 4+1
taxi to my usual hitching spot. I waved down a guy in a DSTV truck (remember
this for later) who kept driving when I said I didn’t want to pay for a ride.
But, fortunately, I was quickly picked up by a nice guy delivering cooking oil
to a big store in Quthing. I took my usual taxis to my village, and guess what?
I saw that same DSTV truck at my next door neighbor’s house! The same guy was
installing a satellite dish there! I went up to him and was like, “Hey, I saw
you in Mohale’s Hoek. Remember me?” and his only response was “Mphe ntja.” Give
me your dog. I’ll save the expletives, but I thought that was quite rude of
him. I was actually glad he didn’t pick me up anyway. He was being paid to
deliver a satellite dish and still wanted money to drive me? Some people are
just awful humans.
On the plus side, I
came back home to find about 3 surprise green beans in my garden! I love it
when stuff like that happens. Looking back on it, I’m so happy I was able to do
this hike, exactly a year after we had done a different hike that led us to
Kyle and Chelsea’s village last Easter. It’s really the best way to explore the
beautiful mountain landscape that is the crown jewel of this country.
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