It’s that kind of weather where it’s colder in my house than it is outside in the sun, but outside it’s windy so it doesn’t feel warm. So the thing to do is just bundle up and be outside, which is where I am now, sitting on half a cinderblock outside my house in the afternoon sun. My ‘me just walked past and asked me what I’m writing. “Ke ngola ka…ha ke tsebe.” “I’m writing about…I don’t know.” Then she asked me if I had forgotten my Sesotho. I assured her that no, I didn’t forget. But perhaps it’s true. Over a month without using it did leave me at a loss for simple conversation. The most I could muster up this morning was “Ho moea,” “It’s windy,” when talking to one of the nugget neighbors buzzing around while I was hanging up my sheets to dry. They were blowing around like crazy on the line. The front pieces of my hair, now long enough to be securely snug in my ponytail, are whipping around freely.
Yesterday, the day after I got back to my village, I was super bummed not to be on vacation anymore. I feel like I could have stayed out for another few months. I got the feeling that if I wasn’t working on my two priorities (traveling and planning for my post-Lesotho life), that I was wasting my time here. I was reminded that my time is valuable to my students, and that’s what I should be focusing on right now. It’s true. I’m starting to mentally prepare myself to leave in a few months, and I can’t stay in the present. My mind is always wandering to what I’ll do once I leave, what I need to do logistically to get ready to leave, things I need to wrap up here, what I’ll tell my replacement volunteer, etc. It's weird to think that it won't be long at all until I'm gone!
Carrying Slothie bo'me style on my back
Celebrating a Mohale's Hoek birthday with decorating Jen's kiwi and with knuckle tattoo roulette
The walk down my hill from my house to the road
One of my Form Bs
The bridge to the orphanage
The elusive spiral aloe
On the taxi to Quthing, with snow on the mountains near my village
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