It is past time that I provided an update concerning Beautiful Gate. That after all is why I came to Lesotho.
As I reflect on the past year I am reminded of how quickly one forgets (or maybe it is just my 50+ year old mind that forgets). A year ago at Beautiful Gate we were struggling with no connection to the locate power grip; living with an off again, on again generator; having to haul in water and haul away waste water; and living with the mud when it rained. Then during the year there were more challenges - vehicles that always seemed in need of repair, and a critical shortage of funds during the middle of the year.
But God is faithful. Today, it is so easy to forget the tough times. Today at Beautiful Gate we only need to use the reliable replacement generator when the power is off; a turn of a valve and we have water; a pump quietly and efficiently moves our waste water into the municipal sewer system; we have enough of the grounds paved that we no longer need to wear rubber boots to work when it rains; and the bank account, it contains sufficient funds to meet our needs.
As I think back and reflect, it is remarkable how God has met each need. The water and sewer authority covered most of the costs of installing the sewer line, maybe as a gesture of good will after taking nearly a year to get the project started, but nonetheless. Our insurance company paid us a visit and provided funds for paving and for much of our portion of the cost of the sewer line. A church in California held a fundraiser and raised enough funds to buy a brand new van to transport staff comfortably and reliably, and another donor has just advised us they will send funds to cover the wages for half of our child care workers for the next year.
It is so easy to get caught up in the struggles of the moment. I need to look back more often and remember from whence God has brought us and to thank him for his grace and provision.
In addition, the city is paving the main road past Beautiful Gate. When this work is completed in the New Year, Beautiful Gate will be just a 10 minute drive from home rather than the 20 minute drive it is now. Yes, we will still have about 500 meters of really rough road in from the main road, but I can be thankful for the two kilometers less of rough gravel road.
The last six weeks have also been a reminder of why Beautiful Gate exists. We have had about six new babies arrive during this time. The latest was a newborn girl found wrapped in a blanket on the side of a road, only a day or so old. She survived, and is now doing well at Beautiful Gate. The little one found a few days later in a pit toilet didn’t survive. Where would these little ones go without places like. I have also been reminded of the wonderful care provided by the bo-me at Beautiful Gate.
Wendy and I have had to relocate. (It was sad to leave the beautiful house that has been home for the last 16 months.) I was off work for a week around the time of the move. At Beautiful Gate I try to learn and remember the babies names, but in the week I was away they grew so much that I was unable to recognize who was who amongst our littlest ones. Those bo-me sure do provide awesome care.
So of late it has been a time to reflect and remember. God has been reminding me to remember his provision, that he cares deeply for the work of Beautiful Gate. I am reminded to be grateful and to remember that Jesus still delights in little children.
Jesus called the children to him and said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Luke 18:16
~ Benno ~
(P.S. If you should be interested in reading more about Beautiful Gate, try these two links, Beautiful:Africa and Beautiful Gate Lesotho.)
Sunday, 14 December 2008
Saturday, 8 November 2008
Crashed...in the Information Age
Written Saturday...
This morning Benno and I are rushing around. Our alarm did not go off and we are supposed to be ready to head up to Semonkong with some friends. We are supposed to be leaving at 4:45 a.m. and it is 4:15!
I'm thrown together and head downstairs to gather the things I'd packed. Something is wrong. I'm confused. I'm uncertain, yet certain. My computer that I'd left out in the dining room has vanished. It IS gone.
I wander around the main level of the house...thinking...confused...It IS gone. It's not just that Benno stuck it away for me. A few other tiny details are the only clues. Someone has come into our house while we were sleeping and has taken my computer--nothing else of any value--leaving something else VERY VALUABLE that I'd carelessly left out. (Hmmm...yes...my purse with my Passport!) How strange. Maybe it had just not been noticed--HUGE mercies!
I feel so strange and not sure what to think. The trip to Semonkong was cancelled, at that moment, for us and we are left here to try to make sense of this. I am devastated. My computer is so important to me. All my pictures--all my pictures of home, my family, my friends, life here...my work here...all my planning...all my MARKS! SO MUCH!
The worse thing about theft like this is that it not only means the loss of possessions, but unfortunately the loss of trust. We'll have to deal with that one...We'll need some wisdom, discernment...
Today...Wednesday...
I have crashed. I'm NOT dealing with this well. I feel so invaded and so helpless. I NEED my information. Loss of information is causing me great frustration. My reports. Exams and marking schemes. Pictures of students. Students' work that THEY will now have to redo. Yes, I KNOW, we are all supposed to BACK UP information, and most of this is, but not all. And it's just so inconvenient and time consuming.
Strange to have this occurrence juxtaposed against my last Blog entry. You know, we are NOT wealthy, and we do think twice about how we spend money! In terms of "material assets" our old car here, my laptop, Benno's laptop...that's pretty much it. And, the thing is, having that laptop stolen is not such a big deal to me. I think I relinquished my need for material things quite a while ago: it's the information I've lost, the invasion of privacy, the invasion and the loss of trust.
I just feel like crawling into a cave and hiding, which is what I'm doing right now--kind of--psychologically. I want a miracle--that somehow I will get my laptop back, but I know that that is not going to happen. The police have done...well...as much as they can/will here. I 'll have to deal with this and do some emotional re-wiring I guess...step-by-step.
~ Wendy ~
This morning Benno and I are rushing around. Our alarm did not go off and we are supposed to be ready to head up to Semonkong with some friends. We are supposed to be leaving at 4:45 a.m. and it is 4:15!
I'm thrown together and head downstairs to gather the things I'd packed. Something is wrong. I'm confused. I'm uncertain, yet certain. My computer that I'd left out in the dining room has vanished. It IS gone.
I wander around the main level of the house...thinking...confused...It IS gone. It's not just that Benno stuck it away for me. A few other tiny details are the only clues. Someone has come into our house while we were sleeping and has taken my computer--nothing else of any value--leaving something else VERY VALUABLE that I'd carelessly left out. (Hmmm...yes...my purse with my Passport!) How strange. Maybe it had just not been noticed--HUGE mercies!
I feel so strange and not sure what to think. The trip to Semonkong was cancelled, at that moment, for us and we are left here to try to make sense of this. I am devastated. My computer is so important to me. All my pictures--all my pictures of home, my family, my friends, life here...my work here...all my planning...all my MARKS! SO MUCH!
The worse thing about theft like this is that it not only means the loss of possessions, but unfortunately the loss of trust. We'll have to deal with that one...We'll need some wisdom, discernment...
Today...Wednesday...
I have crashed. I'm NOT dealing with this well. I feel so invaded and so helpless. I NEED my information. Loss of information is causing me great frustration. My reports. Exams and marking schemes. Pictures of students. Students' work that THEY will now have to redo. Yes, I KNOW, we are all supposed to BACK UP information, and most of this is, but not all. And it's just so inconvenient and time consuming.
Strange to have this occurrence juxtaposed against my last Blog entry. You know, we are NOT wealthy, and we do think twice about how we spend money! In terms of "material assets" our old car here, my laptop, Benno's laptop...that's pretty much it. And, the thing is, having that laptop stolen is not such a big deal to me. I think I relinquished my need for material things quite a while ago: it's the information I've lost, the invasion of privacy, the invasion and the loss of trust.
I just feel like crawling into a cave and hiding, which is what I'm doing right now--kind of--psychologically. I want a miracle--that somehow I will get my laptop back, but I know that that is not going to happen. The police have done...well...as much as they can/will here. I 'll have to deal with this and do some emotional re-wiring I guess...step-by-step.
~ Wendy ~
Monday, 3 November 2008
The Ocean of Disparity
Perspective is EVERYTHING. About a month ago I lost my runners at the gym, and I just could not spend the big bucks to replace them, even though I knew I would have to. It just broke my heart to think about spending that kind of money. Besides, I'd just spent a big wad on taking some students down to Kwa Zulu Natal.
Time passed, however, and the chronic pain I suffer when I am out of an exercise routine began to get worse and worse. Once it got to two extra-strength painkillers and a hot shower to get me moving in the morning, I'd had enough and went and spent the money. At least I bought 'this side'-- in Lesotho, that is -- supporting the local economy.
But goodness! A month's wages for the average Masotho? Can you imagine paying a month's wages for a pair of running shoes? My mind is blown away by the thought, but truly, Maluti 820 is what I spent. By today's exchange rate that's $97.50 Canadian; hence, not a bad price for a pair of GOOD running shoes; and if one is doing lots of running, that is what is needed. The dollar conversion, though? That means that the average Masotho earns just under $100. per MONTH. That's not DAY--that's month. Can you imagine spending the average Canadian monthly salary on a pair of shoes?
Inequities are mind blowing! Eeish... I don't even know what to say. Dear God help me make sense of it all--help me get a glimpse of your perspective.
Then tonight Benno and I return the dress I'd been loaned so generously by 'M'e Lerato, along with a small gift of thanks and some cookies I'd baked. As 'M'e Lerato walks back to the car with us she is dancing and celebrating because this Wednesday there will be a big celebration at Beautiful Gate, where she is working, and she is THRILLED because this means she will get to eat MEAT!
I think about the steak that I was chewing down before I headed out to her place. I think about my full cupboards and fridge.
Now, I just need to stop thinking for a bit because the inequities wash over me and I'm swept out into an ocean of uncertainties. I feel like I'm floating in an ocean, far from shore, over my head...
Time passed, however, and the chronic pain I suffer when I am out of an exercise routine began to get worse and worse. Once it got to two extra-strength painkillers and a hot shower to get me moving in the morning, I'd had enough and went and spent the money. At least I bought 'this side'-- in Lesotho, that is -- supporting the local economy.
But goodness! A month's wages for the average Masotho? Can you imagine paying a month's wages for a pair of running shoes? My mind is blown away by the thought, but truly, Maluti 820 is what I spent. By today's exchange rate that's $97.50 Canadian; hence, not a bad price for a pair of GOOD running shoes; and if one is doing lots of running, that is what is needed. The dollar conversion, though? That means that the average Masotho earns just under $100. per MONTH. That's not DAY--that's month. Can you imagine spending the average Canadian monthly salary on a pair of shoes?
Inequities are mind blowing! Eeish... I don't even know what to say. Dear God help me make sense of it all--help me get a glimpse of your perspective.
Then tonight Benno and I return the dress I'd been loaned so generously by 'M'e Lerato, along with a small gift of thanks and some cookies I'd baked. As 'M'e Lerato walks back to the car with us she is dancing and celebrating because this Wednesday there will be a big celebration at Beautiful Gate, where she is working, and she is THRILLED because this means she will get to eat MEAT!
I think about the steak that I was chewing down before I headed out to her place. I think about my full cupboards and fridge.
Now, I just need to stop thinking for a bit because the inequities wash over me and I'm swept out into an ocean of uncertainties. I feel like I'm floating in an ocean, far from shore, over my head...
Friday, 24 October 2008
International Days once again!
~photo by my colleague, Pete~
What a fabulous celebration we had at Machcoll this past Friday. The weather cooperated so nicely and International Days was even better than last year. Here are some photos...
An energetic group, getting the day started with some good singing.
The Canadian contingent this year was Matthew, our only Canadian student! He's from La Crete, Alberta. It was nice to have a student to take my place as the official Canadian flag bearer.
...so...I got to 'go Masotho'! Since my hair was already done, I borrowed a seshoeshoe from a friend. (Thanks, 'M'e Lerato.) Here I am with three very lovely and traditional gals.
Well, actually, I borrowed two! This second ended up being worn by one of my IB1 students who did a tribute to Lesotho poem. Since she didn't have a seshoeshoe, this just would not do, so thanks a whole bunch for the loan, Sarah. You are a wonderful and generous friend. Your seshoeshoe did double-time on Friday!
Here's Moholi in Sarah's seshoeshoe. Isn't she lovely!
Here are some shots of the crowd and the Parade of Nations. We have almost forty countries represented at our school. It was fabulous to see the variety of national costumes and the flags. For the Parade of Nations, each presenter did a greeting in the language of the country and explained the significance of the colours and patterns on the flag.
Two students in traditional Basotho blankets...
Group shots of my S5 students...
Cool dudes
... and cute gals
One of the highlights of my day was getting my photo with these wonderful fellows that I love teaching so much. These are some of my IB2 students--either my English students or students from my tutor group, plus others. They had just finished presenting a traditional Basotho song...
What I want to do, now, is to get the same guys and do another picture with them in their Machabeng uniforms--just so you can see how I normally see them. Quite a difference! These would be two neat photos, juxtaposed.
The thing I really appreciate about this pictures is that it reminds me of the times I have driven into the rural areas and seen the herd boys and imagined my students as those young boys. When I see herd boys--many who are NOT getting an education, I imagine that they too COULD be my students...
Some of the guys. Isn't the mask great! Yes, those are 'seen' in the rural areas where shepherds often wear masks, especially in winter.
Another thing I loved was when one of these IB2's asked to borrow the camera and away he went. (That's a privilege given ONLY to some very trustworthy IB2's Molemo! Your time will come.) Later I discovered that the guys had gotten together and taken a whole lot of pictures--maybe 200--of themselves in their VERY traditional garb--shepherd clothes and Initiation clothing. Later, as I was able to see the photos, I appreciated the wisdom of this young man for making sure to 'celebrate and commemorate the moment'. Soon these fellows will be finished at Machcoll and will go their separate ways. This is the last Machcoll International Day that they will spend together--this pretty 'tight' group that has led a fine tradition of singing the Basotho songs for International Days.
Here's the wise camera guy with two very lovely young ladies. He is most OBVIOUSLY wise in more ways than one! He knows how to be in the right place for a great camera shot.
Another traditional guy ('Raps') with a Seshoeshoe gal...
As you can see, what a wonderful school I am teaching at! I really enjoy being part of a diverse learning community, both in the students and in the staff. We are an eclectic bunch.
Thursday, 9 October 2008
Poetry Club at Machcoll
Each Thursday after school I meet with a great group of students--Fabric of Rythmix/The Poetry Club. I've written about them last year when we did our Poetry Night. Yep, that was a memorable experience in African culture for me! I've had lots of memorable experiences with this band of dreamers, and I continue to marvel at their talents and their passion. I still marvel at the huge number--especially of guys--who just think that writing poetry is great. I love this place!
This year the club has grown exponentially, from a cozy group of about ten last year to around thirty showing up each week; and the new ones have brought vitality and diversity into the mix. It is just so exciting to be there each week and listen to these young artists--once they get down to the art and start doing their poetry, especially the way it's DONE here. Students are really 'into' performance poetry and they bring such expressiveness into their readings. Once it gets flowing I just sit back and soak it in. That was my experience a week ago when after a long and dull business session students actually started reciting the poems they'd been working on.
They inspired me and this is my humble tribute to them...
CALL
I am standing in the center
Of a very strong core
And all around me
I can hear the winds
Of change blowing
I can feel the spirits
Of my students soaring
Here I am surrounded in this circle
With a very strong core
Their spirits vibrate
With the energy of youth
They speak in words of
Courage and of truth
Of the wisdom they are storing
In this spirit circle that surrounds me
I feel the presence of the past
Holding me--enfolding me
I hear the heartbeat of Moshoeshoe
Coursing through the generations
Calling them to rally
Giving them the challenge of the task
In their vibrant veins is pouring
A passion for their place
A pride that brings a promise
Of a bright tomorrow
That can ride on wings of reason
To find a strong solution
To the challenges they face
Moving in this generation
Is the strength to change this nation
To rise above the ashes
Of the problems of their people
Using their advantage to find the answers …
I can hear a GREATER spirit
Calling forth a stronger nation
Come sit among our circle
And feel the heartbeat of these youth
Feel the passion of their poems
Feel the vital force that’s flowing
Through the minds and spirits of our children
As they seek to find solutions
As they soar like eagles, seeking truth
* * *
As I sit surrounded in this circle
With a very strong core
I am humbled by the presence
Of a spirit that is higher
Of a power that is vaster
Of a wisdom that is greater
God, I thank you for these people and the power you are giving
Grant them strength and grant them wisdom; grant them courage to seek more
~ Wendy ~
This year the club has grown exponentially, from a cozy group of about ten last year to around thirty showing up each week; and the new ones have brought vitality and diversity into the mix. It is just so exciting to be there each week and listen to these young artists--once they get down to the art and start doing their poetry, especially the way it's DONE here. Students are really 'into' performance poetry and they bring such expressiveness into their readings. Once it gets flowing I just sit back and soak it in. That was my experience a week ago when after a long and dull business session students actually started reciting the poems they'd been working on.
They inspired me and this is my humble tribute to them...
CALL
I am standing in the center
Of a very strong core
And all around me
I can hear the winds
Of change blowing
I can feel the spirits
Of my students soaring
Here I am surrounded in this circle
With a very strong core
Their spirits vibrate
With the energy of youth
They speak in words of
Courage and of truth
Of the wisdom they are storing
In this spirit circle that surrounds me
I feel the presence of the past
Holding me--enfolding me
I hear the heartbeat of Moshoeshoe
Coursing through the generations
Calling them to rally
Giving them the challenge of the task
In their vibrant veins is pouring
A passion for their place
A pride that brings a promise
Of a bright tomorrow
That can ride on wings of reason
To find a strong solution
To the challenges they face
Moving in this generation
Is the strength to change this nation
To rise above the ashes
Of the problems of their people
Using their advantage to find the answers …
I can hear a GREATER spirit
Calling forth a stronger nation
Come sit among our circle
And feel the heartbeat of these youth
Feel the passion of their poems
Feel the vital force that’s flowing
Through the minds and spirits of our children
As they seek to find solutions
As they soar like eagles, seeking truth
* * *
As I sit surrounded in this circle
With a very strong core
I am humbled by the presence
Of a spirit that is higher
Of a power that is vaster
Of a wisdom that is greater
God, I thank you for these people and the power you are giving
Grant them strength and grant them wisdom; grant them courage to seek more
~ Wendy ~
Wednesday, 8 October 2008
Assumptions and Sore Feet!
A few weeks back Benno and I, some friends and some of my IB students did a hike into Ramabanta. Looking towards Thabana Li-‘Mele we knew we wanted to do that seven-hour hike.
Ready to set out with our friends... (We are headed to the top of the left peak in the distance--yes the left nipple--Li-'Mele means breasts. It's a lovely maternal mountain. As we got closer, we could see that this left peak also looks like a mother with a baby on her back--the way babies are carried here.)
Me, Mokletsi (He's a brilliant and 'heart-smart' midwife at B.G.), Bokang and Sarah
It would be a good challenge and I was hoping to take some of the IB students along on that trip; however, my comment to one, after looking down at the school ‘dress’ shoes he’d worn for our short hike was that he’d need better footwear!
* * *
Ah, life’s ironies. Unfortunately I was unable to get the school mini-bus, so I didn’t take any students along when we climbed Thabana Li-‘Mele last weekend.
Instead, we took some friends, and a whole troop of village kids ended up traveling along with us. It’s still weird for me, but white people are some strange oddity here, so the kids wanted to tag along, for whatever purpose.
Tagging along on a seven-hour hike doesn’t sound like something one would just decide to do on the spur of the moment, but then for one thing, I didn’t realize the kids were planning to come all the way. For another thing, it wasn’t really my call. Finally, when I did ask about it I was informed that they do this trip often. Yes, well, this is their turf!
So off we went, and about half way I suddenly looked at the kids—I mean really noticed them—and one of the things that struck me was the crazy irony of their footwear. As I glanced down at their feet I noticed the worn and dusty ‘school shoes’ and began to think about how they’d take them home and clean them off to look neat and as tidy as possible with their school uniforms. I thought of my student with the school shoes… Then I looked further and noticed a pair of rubber boots. Rubber boots for a seven-hour hour hike? Ouch! Then I noticed the little lad—the smallest one (nine years old) with bare feet. Bigger ouch! Ouch in more ways than one. For him--of course! For me, psychically as I thought about my soft First World sensibilities, my soft and easy life, my supportive, expensive hiking boots, my soft expectations of physical and spiritual endurance.
So much for my concerns about students not being able to handle a seven-hour hike, or them not having the ‘correct’ footwear! One look at those little bare feet changed my world view!
How does the human spirit get strong? Maybe the spirit rises and grows from the soles of such feet. Perhaps the spirit blossoms from the blisters on little feet.
When I looked in the shining eyes of this little boy I saw the eyes of some of my brightest students shining back. It is ironic to me that some of my brightest students are those who have come from the distant rural areas, from villages where they might be the first or the second person who has ever gone past Primary school. Some come from families so poor that their families could not afford to keep them; rather, Social Welfare provided their school fees, food and a place to live. Now, here they are at Machabeng! So much depends on their ability to succeed academically that they commit body, mind and soul to achieving academic success for themselves, for their families and for their villages. A lot rests on the strong soles of small children with bare feet.
Our beautiful friend, Bokang. The village we started the journey at--the place all the children who came with us are from--is her home village. These kids are her, minus a few years!
Our wonderful friend, Sarah. She's the midwife who got me in to the delivery room for the birth of our friend's baby!
A stop for sustenance with the village kids enjoying our offerings.
Ready to set out with our friends... (We are headed to the top of the left peak in the distance--yes the left nipple--Li-'Mele means breasts. It's a lovely maternal mountain. As we got closer, we could see that this left peak also looks like a mother with a baby on her back--the way babies are carried here.)
Me, Mokletsi (He's a brilliant and 'heart-smart' midwife at B.G.), Bokang and Sarah
It would be a good challenge and I was hoping to take some of the IB students along on that trip; however, my comment to one, after looking down at the school ‘dress’ shoes he’d worn for our short hike was that he’d need better footwear!
* * *
Ah, life’s ironies. Unfortunately I was unable to get the school mini-bus, so I didn’t take any students along when we climbed Thabana Li-‘Mele last weekend.
Instead, we took some friends, and a whole troop of village kids ended up traveling along with us. It’s still weird for me, but white people are some strange oddity here, so the kids wanted to tag along, for whatever purpose.
Tagging along on a seven-hour hike doesn’t sound like something one would just decide to do on the spur of the moment, but then for one thing, I didn’t realize the kids were planning to come all the way. For another thing, it wasn’t really my call. Finally, when I did ask about it I was informed that they do this trip often. Yes, well, this is their turf!
So off we went, and about half way I suddenly looked at the kids—I mean really noticed them—and one of the things that struck me was the crazy irony of their footwear. As I glanced down at their feet I noticed the worn and dusty ‘school shoes’ and began to think about how they’d take them home and clean them off to look neat and as tidy as possible with their school uniforms. I thought of my student with the school shoes… Then I looked further and noticed a pair of rubber boots. Rubber boots for a seven-hour hour hike? Ouch! Then I noticed the little lad—the smallest one (nine years old) with bare feet. Bigger ouch! Ouch in more ways than one. For him--of course! For me, psychically as I thought about my soft First World sensibilities, my soft and easy life, my supportive, expensive hiking boots, my soft expectations of physical and spiritual endurance.
So much for my concerns about students not being able to handle a seven-hour hike, or them not having the ‘correct’ footwear! One look at those little bare feet changed my world view!
How does the human spirit get strong? Maybe the spirit rises and grows from the soles of such feet. Perhaps the spirit blossoms from the blisters on little feet.
When I looked in the shining eyes of this little boy I saw the eyes of some of my brightest students shining back. It is ironic to me that some of my brightest students are those who have come from the distant rural areas, from villages where they might be the first or the second person who has ever gone past Primary school. Some come from families so poor that their families could not afford to keep them; rather, Social Welfare provided their school fees, food and a place to live. Now, here they are at Machabeng! So much depends on their ability to succeed academically that they commit body, mind and soul to achieving academic success for themselves, for their families and for their villages. A lot rests on the strong soles of small children with bare feet.
Our beautiful friend, Bokang. The village we started the journey at--the place all the children who came with us are from--is her home village. These kids are her, minus a few years!
Our wonderful friend, Sarah. She's the midwife who got me in to the delivery room for the birth of our friend's baby!
A stop for sustenance with the village kids enjoying our offerings.
Friday, 26 September 2008
My students are so wonderful!
One of my IB2 students, in her graduating year, is quite sick and will need to take the year off. It's tough, but she will get stronger and come back next year and do very well. She's bright and a very promising student.
Over the past weeks I've made a couple of trips to visit her, taking a couple of students along each time.
Earlier this week another of my IB students came to me…
“Some of the guys are thinking of going to visit Cec…”
“That’s a great idea. How are you thinking of getting there? Taxi?”
“We were thinking of the school mini-bus…”
“Hmmm…How many guys want to go?”
“Here’s a list. (10 names!) Mrs. Fath, could you ask Mr. Philip if we could use the bus?”
“Hmmm…and who will drive?”
“We were thinking you might, Mrs. Fath.” (Do they know me well, or what? ;-)
“Okay. I could do that. Have you checked with Cc’s mom; that’s a lot of you to come all at once? It might be a bit too many…”
So, I tried phoning Cc’s mom and could get no answer, but the guys did not give up. They got in touch with her, but by the time they did, it was too late to get the mini-bus, so four guys piled into my car and the other six went by taxi. We decided to see who would get there first and since I’m such a SLOW driver, bets were NOT on me!
It’s always fun driving with my students along. I love to tease them and enjoy their laughter. Today the guy in charge of the whole plan sat in the passenger seat across from me and was giggling away in anticipation.
“Eeish, you sound like a girl when you giggle!” He does! Deep, rich baritone when he talks, but when he laughs! Ah!
Then there was Pitso in the back whistling…”How DO you do that?” What talent, I say ;-)
Getting there, piling into Cc’s room, seeing her lovely smiles, and watching her and the guys just sitting around and chatting, chatting, chatting—the whole thing in Sesotho, of course! It was great. I was just basking in this act of kindness, concern and love that they would show for their classmate. It makes me realize what compassionate people they are, that they understand how hard it will be for her to be missing school.
I love my students ;-)
Over the past weeks I've made a couple of trips to visit her, taking a couple of students along each time.
Earlier this week another of my IB students came to me…
“Some of the guys are thinking of going to visit Cec…”
“That’s a great idea. How are you thinking of getting there? Taxi?”
“We were thinking of the school mini-bus…”
“Hmmm…How many guys want to go?”
“Here’s a list. (10 names!) Mrs. Fath, could you ask Mr. Philip if we could use the bus?”
“Hmmm…and who will drive?”
“We were thinking you might, Mrs. Fath.” (Do they know me well, or what? ;-)
“Okay. I could do that. Have you checked with Cc’s mom; that’s a lot of you to come all at once? It might be a bit too many…”
So, I tried phoning Cc’s mom and could get no answer, but the guys did not give up. They got in touch with her, but by the time they did, it was too late to get the mini-bus, so four guys piled into my car and the other six went by taxi. We decided to see who would get there first and since I’m such a SLOW driver, bets were NOT on me!
It’s always fun driving with my students along. I love to tease them and enjoy their laughter. Today the guy in charge of the whole plan sat in the passenger seat across from me and was giggling away in anticipation.
“Eeish, you sound like a girl when you giggle!” He does! Deep, rich baritone when he talks, but when he laughs! Ah!
Then there was Pitso in the back whistling…”How DO you do that?” What talent, I say ;-)
Getting there, piling into Cc’s room, seeing her lovely smiles, and watching her and the guys just sitting around and chatting, chatting, chatting—the whole thing in Sesotho, of course! It was great. I was just basking in this act of kindness, concern and love that they would show for their classmate. It makes me realize what compassionate people they are, that they understand how hard it will be for her to be missing school.
I love my students ;-)
Sunday, 21 September 2008
24 Hours - Life is Full
6:00 a.m. Up early on a Saturday. Today it is traveling out into the mountains, taking 10 of Wendy’ students on a hike. Mine is the back-up role, help route find and just another adult along in the event something unexpected comes up. Though on this trip we have the two nurses from Beautiful Gate also along, so any medical emergencies should be well covered.
7:30 a.m. Sort out with Wendy some final traveling logistics. Have breakfast and get lunches packed. Then sort out some details to see our friend from next door off to a medical appointment.
8:00 a.m. We make a quick trip over to the school. Wendy also has two of her students over for the weekend—a couple of days away from the boarding school to focus on some of their school projects. This morning it is off to the school to pick up some additional resources for them.
9:00 a.m. The school van is in less than ready to go, so the departure is delayed, but finally at 9:30 we are off. Wendy, driving the school van with her students, and me following in our car. The weather is threatening. Will it rain?
10:45 a.m. We arrive at the starting point of the trail. Oooh, it is cold in the mountains. By 11:00 we are on the trail. The weather was still threatening and we leave in some light showers.
11:30 The first part of the trail is a sustained steep climb up to a ridge. We have all made it to the top where we find ourselves on the edge of a SNOW squall. Down in the valley we had recently driven through and on a nearby ridge there was a light dusting of snow. To the east the peaks are also dusted in snow.
Snow dusting on the valley below and ridge opposite.
The peaks to the east.
11:40 The sun came out as we walked along the ridge and we had a beautiful hike, with mist rising from and warming earth.
Meandering in the mist.
The string of hikers approaching the summit ridge.
12:00 noon: For the first hike Wendy prudently chose a short one, and by noon the first guys made the summit and we were all up within 10 minutes of them. We spent an hour there, had some snacks, the students visited, and we took pictures. It was a perfect first hike; everyone made it comfortably. About 1:00 the weather started to close in, and a cool wind came up so we headed back down.
2:10 Back at the vehicles. Visiting between the students and local children who showed up to see who it was that was hiking on the mountain. Then load up and on the road. We were back in Maseru before 4:00.
4:30 We are back home. The students at home have been working. It is a cool day. Wendy asks for a fire, so get that started and soon the living room is toasty warm.
7:00 I had a planned trip out to Beautiful Gate to visit with the night shift bo-‘m’e, so off I went. I always find it rewarding to once a month visit the night shift staff. The children are most always sleeping, and it is a time for visiting with staff I have not seen for a while. They are on night shift for a full month before reverting back to day shift for a month.
8:15 Back home. And spend some time chatting via Internet before heading off to bed shortly after 9:00
10:20 The phone rings. It is a friend. Her sister, expecting her first child, is in labour and needs a ride to the hospital. Off I go.
11:00 Sitting at the hospital. The sister is in the examination room. Wendy and Sarah, one of the Beautiful Gate nurses who is also a mid-wife, are on their way. I watch the mice running about, under beds, down the halls, and slipping in and out under doors.
11:45 Wendy and Sarah arrive. The examination results indicate that the sister is dilated 6 cms. Sarah, who volunteers one day a week at the hospital as a mid-wife, had previously obtained permission for Wendy to be present for the birth
12:05 a.m. Family cannot be present for the birth, so I drive our friend back to her home. Wendy ramains with Sarah at the hospital.
12:25 I arrive back home. One of Wendy’s students is still up, working on her extended essay. She had asked Wendy to be her supervisor for the extended essay, and Wendy had given her an ultimatum to have her first draft ready by the end of the weekend or Wendy would ‘dump her’. Most students had completed most of their work on this project during their winter vacation, but this student was just starting.
12:55 I receive a text message from Wendy. At 12:30, a healthy little girl was born. The delivery was almost perfect, except for Wendy. But that is her story to tell.
1:35 Wendy arrives back home.
6:00 a.m. Is it morning already??
Sunday turned out to be just about as hectic a day. We had invited Thabiso's family over. But after church we decided to visit the hospital. We arrived just as our friend's sister and her baby were about to be discharged. It was 1:00 p.m. By about 1:45 all the paper work was done. Less than 13 1/2 hours after delivering her baby, we were driving mom and baby to their home.
Baby Bohlokoa - aged 13 1/2 hrs.
That was time not anticipated in our planning for the day so the rest of the day was pretty hectic, but at the end of it all we both said, "Life is full. But it is also rich. We are so blessed."
~ Benno ~
7:30 a.m. Sort out with Wendy some final traveling logistics. Have breakfast and get lunches packed. Then sort out some details to see our friend from next door off to a medical appointment.
8:00 a.m. We make a quick trip over to the school. Wendy also has two of her students over for the weekend—a couple of days away from the boarding school to focus on some of their school projects. This morning it is off to the school to pick up some additional resources for them.
9:00 a.m. The school van is in less than ready to go, so the departure is delayed, but finally at 9:30 we are off. Wendy, driving the school van with her students, and me following in our car. The weather is threatening. Will it rain?
10:45 a.m. We arrive at the starting point of the trail. Oooh, it is cold in the mountains. By 11:00 we are on the trail. The weather was still threatening and we leave in some light showers.
11:30 The first part of the trail is a sustained steep climb up to a ridge. We have all made it to the top where we find ourselves on the edge of a SNOW squall. Down in the valley we had recently driven through and on a nearby ridge there was a light dusting of snow. To the east the peaks are also dusted in snow.
Snow dusting on the valley below and ridge opposite.
The peaks to the east.
Meandering in the mist.
The string of hikers approaching the summit ridge.2:10 Back at the vehicles. Visiting between the students and local children who showed up to see who it was that was hiking on the mountain. Then load up and on the road. We were back in Maseru before 4:00.
4:30 We are back home. The students at home have been working. It is a cool day. Wendy asks for a fire, so get that started and soon the living room is toasty warm.
7:00 I had a planned trip out to Beautiful Gate to visit with the night shift bo-‘m’e, so off I went. I always find it rewarding to once a month visit the night shift staff. The children are most always sleeping, and it is a time for visiting with staff I have not seen for a while. They are on night shift for a full month before reverting back to day shift for a month.
8:15 Back home. And spend some time chatting via Internet before heading off to bed shortly after 9:00
10:20 The phone rings. It is a friend. Her sister, expecting her first child, is in labour and needs a ride to the hospital. Off I go.
11:00 Sitting at the hospital. The sister is in the examination room. Wendy and Sarah, one of the Beautiful Gate nurses who is also a mid-wife, are on their way. I watch the mice running about, under beds, down the halls, and slipping in and out under doors.
11:45 Wendy and Sarah arrive. The examination results indicate that the sister is dilated 6 cms. Sarah, who volunteers one day a week at the hospital as a mid-wife, had previously obtained permission for Wendy to be present for the birth
12:05 a.m. Family cannot be present for the birth, so I drive our friend back to her home. Wendy ramains with Sarah at the hospital.
12:25 I arrive back home. One of Wendy’s students is still up, working on her extended essay. She had asked Wendy to be her supervisor for the extended essay, and Wendy had given her an ultimatum to have her first draft ready by the end of the weekend or Wendy would ‘dump her’. Most students had completed most of their work on this project during their winter vacation, but this student was just starting.
12:55 I receive a text message from Wendy. At 12:30, a healthy little girl was born. The delivery was almost perfect, except for Wendy. But that is her story to tell.
6:00 a.m. Is it morning already??
Sunday turned out to be just about as hectic a day. We had invited Thabiso's family over. But after church we decided to visit the hospital. We arrived just as our friend's sister and her baby were about to be discharged. It was 1:00 p.m. By about 1:45 all the paper work was done. Less than 13 1/2 hours after delivering her baby, we were driving mom and baby to their home.
Baby Bohlokoa - aged 13 1/2 hrs.~ Benno ~
Thursday, 18 September 2008
Catching Up ... a Bit
I started this piece in May, and have been back to add to it once or twice. I just never got it finished. So after a few attempts to complete, this entry is somewhat of a jumble of unrelated and disparate information.
It has been a year that we have been in Africa, almost 14 months. It has gone so quickly. It has been challenging, but also rewarding. The immensity of the needs here has sometimes been overwhelming. The challenge not to become callous and uncaring is always there. I am white, “makhooa”. As such, it is assumed I have, therefore people ask. Most often they ask because they truly need, but many also ask because I am white, and maybe a bit gullible. Yet the risk of not giving and not caring, not walking alongside is to miss opportunities to bring a moment of joy to another or to be enriched by who they are.
Today is one of those days where I was reminded of the blessings of our friendships here. There was the joy of supporting the young woman next door as she went through a small but painful medical procedure. And the simple pleasure of working alongside one small work team at Beautiful Gate who every day bring an infectious joy and cheer to their work. Truly amidst the challenges and need, I feel so blessed by the people I have come to know and treasure.
There are many other things that bring pleasure to each day, not the least is living in a chaotic place where people sometimes just do what needs to be done to add to their lives. There are not a plethora of laws telling people how to live or, if there are, folks don’t seem to pay a lot of attention. In many ways people take things into their own hands or just make do with what life offers.
Like the fellow who wanted some trees in front of his house. The sidewalk outside his home is made of paving stones. So he just dug out a few paving stones and planted a tree. Actually he planted three trees in the sidewalk in front of his home. (More recently I have noticed that this is a rather common practice.)
Another fellow has a house above and bordering a natural area. He seemed to want a bigger back yard. So whenever someone is preparing a lot for building and needs to dispose of rubble his back yard is available. Now the natural area has a huge slag heap jutting out into it, … but the guy has a much bigger back yard.
Or potholes. There are some wicked ones in the roads here. Folks don’t just complain about the potholes in the roads. They actually get out and fill them in. Many potholes would be far worse if citizens hadn't gotten out and made road repairs, after a fashion.
Another day I was passing children walking to school. A pick up truck stops and the kids pile into the open back for a quick ride to school. I think there are seat belt laws here, but as Wendy has noted, even the policemen ride around in the backs of open pick-ups.
On other occasions I just smile at the absurdity of situations. Like the fellow I helped push his taxi to jump-start it. This was not the taxi owner I was helping, it was the customer.
It isn’t always taxis, but when driving it is common to see a couple of guys pushing a car to jump-start it, or a car broken down in the middle of a traffic lane, often with someone underneath making repairs.
Another positive to living in Lesotho, it is not Johannesburg. In June we were up in Jo’burg to visit our son Dylan. Dylan had given us excellent directions and we our way through this huge city to Joseph Project and nonchalantly parked out front of the Joseph Project site - we could actually see our car from within. But Jo’burg is not Maseru, Lesotho. One of Dylan’s colleagues quickly invited us to move our car off the street before the tsotsis caught sight of it. So it was off to park it behind a locked gate in a yard equipped with motion detectors, and an alarm system linked directly to the security company. To get at our car now, any tsotsi would have to climb over a six foot high wall topped with sharp metal spikes, race past the motion sensors, take what they wanted, avoid impaling themselves on the way back over the fence, and all before the security guards arrived with their guns. In Maseru we have occasionally been known to forget to lock the gate and the doors of our house at night. (This is not recommended practice, however.)
The drive to Jo’burg, included looking back at the snow crested mountains of Lesotho. It was winter then and in early July it was 3-4 degrees below freezing most every night. One thing I did not expect in Africa was frozen water lines, but we were having such problems at Beautiful Gate and other folks also reported experiencing frozen water lines. We have been okay at our house though our little coal heater was working hard to keep the chill off. Winter in Lesotho also means layering up to stay warm INSIDE.
I had brought a couple pairs of light MEC underwear to Lesotho in the event we were to do some hiking in the mountains in the fall or winter. Forget the hiking, I was wearing them to work everyday to stay warm - inside. I continue to marvel at how the buildings hold the night cold and during the day it is often warmer outside than inside. On winter mornings I often saw folks standing on the sunny side of their homes, soaking up the warm morning sun after a cold night inside. We do that at work too, when we start feeling chilled inside we head outside to a sunny spot. I have a big window behind my desk that catches the morning sun, so I don’t have to go looking for a warm sunny spot outside until the afternoon.
And now it is spring. Cool evenings but beautiful, warm days. On the horizon is the rainy season, with the rains of late spring, early summer anticipated in the next few weeks. Ah, life has its challenges, but overall it is good.
Tsalleng hantle,
~ Benno ~
It has been a year that we have been in Africa, almost 14 months. It has gone so quickly. It has been challenging, but also rewarding. The immensity of the needs here has sometimes been overwhelming. The challenge not to become callous and uncaring is always there. I am white, “makhooa”. As such, it is assumed I have, therefore people ask. Most often they ask because they truly need, but many also ask because I am white, and maybe a bit gullible. Yet the risk of not giving and not caring, not walking alongside is to miss opportunities to bring a moment of joy to another or to be enriched by who they are.
Today is one of those days where I was reminded of the blessings of our friendships here. There was the joy of supporting the young woman next door as she went through a small but painful medical procedure. And the simple pleasure of working alongside one small work team at Beautiful Gate who every day bring an infectious joy and cheer to their work. Truly amidst the challenges and need, I feel so blessed by the people I have come to know and treasure.
There are many other things that bring pleasure to each day, not the least is living in a chaotic place where people sometimes just do what needs to be done to add to their lives. There are not a plethora of laws telling people how to live or, if there are, folks don’t seem to pay a lot of attention. In many ways people take things into their own hands or just make do with what life offers.
Like the fellow who wanted some trees in front of his house. The sidewalk outside his home is made of paving stones. So he just dug out a few paving stones and planted a tree. Actually he planted three trees in the sidewalk in front of his home. (More recently I have noticed that this is a rather common practice.)
Another fellow has a house above and bordering a natural area. He seemed to want a bigger back yard. So whenever someone is preparing a lot for building and needs to dispose of rubble his back yard is available. Now the natural area has a huge slag heap jutting out into it, … but the guy has a much bigger back yard.
Or potholes. There are some wicked ones in the roads here. Folks don’t just complain about the potholes in the roads. They actually get out and fill them in. Many potholes would be far worse if citizens hadn't gotten out and made road repairs, after a fashion.
Another day I was passing children walking to school. A pick up truck stops and the kids pile into the open back for a quick ride to school. I think there are seat belt laws here, but as Wendy has noted, even the policemen ride around in the backs of open pick-ups.
On other occasions I just smile at the absurdity of situations. Like the fellow I helped push his taxi to jump-start it. This was not the taxi owner I was helping, it was the customer.
It isn’t always taxis, but when driving it is common to see a couple of guys pushing a car to jump-start it, or a car broken down in the middle of a traffic lane, often with someone underneath making repairs.
Another positive to living in Lesotho, it is not Johannesburg. In June we were up in Jo’burg to visit our son Dylan. Dylan had given us excellent directions and we our way through this huge city to Joseph Project and nonchalantly parked out front of the Joseph Project site - we could actually see our car from within. But Jo’burg is not Maseru, Lesotho. One of Dylan’s colleagues quickly invited us to move our car off the street before the tsotsis caught sight of it. So it was off to park it behind a locked gate in a yard equipped with motion detectors, and an alarm system linked directly to the security company. To get at our car now, any tsotsi would have to climb over a six foot high wall topped with sharp metal spikes, race past the motion sensors, take what they wanted, avoid impaling themselves on the way back over the fence, and all before the security guards arrived with their guns. In Maseru we have occasionally been known to forget to lock the gate and the doors of our house at night. (This is not recommended practice, however.)
The drive to Jo’burg, included looking back at the snow crested mountains of Lesotho. It was winter then and in early July it was 3-4 degrees below freezing most every night. One thing I did not expect in Africa was frozen water lines, but we were having such problems at Beautiful Gate and other folks also reported experiencing frozen water lines. We have been okay at our house though our little coal heater was working hard to keep the chill off. Winter in Lesotho also means layering up to stay warm INSIDE.
I had brought a couple pairs of light MEC underwear to Lesotho in the event we were to do some hiking in the mountains in the fall or winter. Forget the hiking, I was wearing them to work everyday to stay warm - inside. I continue to marvel at how the buildings hold the night cold and during the day it is often warmer outside than inside. On winter mornings I often saw folks standing on the sunny side of their homes, soaking up the warm morning sun after a cold night inside. We do that at work too, when we start feeling chilled inside we head outside to a sunny spot. I have a big window behind my desk that catches the morning sun, so I don’t have to go looking for a warm sunny spot outside until the afternoon.
And now it is spring. Cool evenings but beautiful, warm days. On the horizon is the rainy season, with the rains of late spring, early summer anticipated in the next few weeks. Ah, life has its challenges, but overall it is good.
Tsalleng hantle,
~ Benno ~
Wednesday, 17 September 2008
I'm so glad I have arms
I'm so glad I have arms
to reach out and hug you
when your eyes are pouring tears
as you tell me
that your life is falling apart
and you must hold yourself together
You seemed like the strong one
the one with life together
but I see you shattered
and I want to weep
with you
but if I hug you tight enough
maybe I can help you hold yourself together
just to make it through
Whatever else you do
reach toward me and I will hug you
Just to help you make it through
(My students who work so hard just to get through their grueling IB program, just to make a future for themselves, often have so many other things they are dealing with--so many stresses in their lives. I am wondering how I would cope...)
to reach out and hug you
when your eyes are pouring tears
as you tell me
that your life is falling apart
and you must hold yourself together
You seemed like the strong one
the one with life together
but I see you shattered
and I want to weep
with you
but if I hug you tight enough
maybe I can help you hold yourself together
just to make it through
Whatever else you do
reach toward me and I will hug you
Just to help you make it through
(My students who work so hard just to get through their grueling IB program, just to make a future for themselves, often have so many other things they are dealing with--so many stresses in their lives. I am wondering how I would cope...)
Babies and QII -- Saturday, September 13
It’s Saturday morning and our plans to go hiking quickly change when I look out the window and see a rare cloudy sky. Then Benno checks his phone messages to discover that a friend has SMSed to let us know her sister is in the hospital.
The younger sister of our good friend is having a baby; she is sixteen and we are trying to provide some support. We have asked Sarah, our midwife friend and Benno’s colleague at Beautiful Gate, if she will assist this young gal in the delivery since there’s a good chance she’d be doing it all by herself—unassisted and with no experience or training—otherwise.
So I phone Sarah to let her know the hike is off and that she’ll be needed at the hospital. A short while later we head into QII. I’ve been there before, but the stark—indeed stark—contrast between this hospital and anything I have seen in North America just hits me every time, right between the eyes and lower, in the region of my heart…
We walk through a crowded waiting room, down a rabbit’s warren of hallways, in doors, out of doors, down sidewalks, around corners, in other doors…all marked with poverty--disrepair, peeling paint, scarred linoleum, dingy, drab…until we are at the maternity ward lined with old, worn iron beds upon beds. Finally we find our young friend and her sister. As we chat, I look around to see many women all in various stages of labour or simply waiting—restless.
Our young friend is having what seems to be no more than the occasional Braxton Hicks contraction. She is not in active labour, and I wonder…this could be a long weekend.
As it turns out, it is, and I spend a fair bit of it back and forth to the hospital checking to see how things are going. Each time I am confronted with the realities for most pregnant women in this country:
They receive no prenatal education (unless a friend of relative gives them some advice) so they are exceedingly ill prepared. In this case, our young friend has come to the hospital far too early and ends up having a horrible weekend there, with little sleep and lots of emotional trauma…
At one stage, in the bed right across from her a woman goes through labour and delivery. Our young friend watches and her stress increases…
In the labour room just across the hallway from her bed, a woman screams in pain to be followed shortly after by a baby's cry. I sigh relief, Sarah sings, “Happy Birthday…” our young friend’s eyes become more anxious...
Perhaps anxious about many, many things. And I am thinking, reflecting on what Sarah had read on our young friend's chart: she confirmed that not only will this 16 year soon be a mom but already she is contending with HIV Aids.
At another of our visits over the weekend, Sarah asks her if she has any concern. Her response is instantaneous: “Three babies were born dead last night…”
We hear another woman screaming in Sesotho. Sarah understands and dashes into the delivery room. She’s a midwife. She has a midwife’s heart. She is not on duty. Her day at QII is Thursday and this is Saturday, but she dashes in. We hear a baby’s cry. I sigh relief.
About five minutes later Sarah comes out. She’s delivered the baby. The young mom was panicking. No wonder. The baby’s head was stuck and needed help. If Sarah hadn’t helped her—the other nurses were…obviously busy in one of the two other labour rooms—I wonder, would this baby have ended up with CP due to lack of oxygen, or would this baby also have been born dead. Thanks to Sarah, this baby will be okay—a bit blue, but quickly recovering before Sarah left the delivery room. Sarah was shaking her head in frustration. The mom was torn terribly. Had she received proper assistance, this would not likely have been the case.
All weekend, the litany goes on, and our young friend still waits for a baby that has no intention of entering the world quite yet. We encourage her: “Go home where you can relax. The baby will come at the right time. It is not time yet. Your labour pains need to be much stronger, much closer together…" . When she does go home, I leave my cell phone with her so she can contact her sister and us when her labour starts in earnest (It's now Wednesday and we are still waiting).
Meanwhile, what I have discovered is that so many women here, especially the young ones, likely especially the unwed ones, receive no prenatal education so they have no idea what to expect, and the birthing process is brutal here at QII. Can you imagine giving birth to a baby totally unassisted, and you know nothing about giving birth. Ah, these women are so strong! I guess they don’t have much choice. (Not unless they have 5,000 Maluti to deliver in a private hospital. That's about $850.00 Canadian and past the wildest imaginations of people who might be lucky to earn 40 Maluti a day!)
What to do? Benno and I are not sure, but we begin to wonder if God is calling us towards a ministry to young women here. More and more of them are entering our lives. More and more we see a huge need for this group, the girl child.
The younger sister of our good friend is having a baby; she is sixteen and we are trying to provide some support. We have asked Sarah, our midwife friend and Benno’s colleague at Beautiful Gate, if she will assist this young gal in the delivery since there’s a good chance she’d be doing it all by herself—unassisted and with no experience or training—otherwise.
So I phone Sarah to let her know the hike is off and that she’ll be needed at the hospital. A short while later we head into QII. I’ve been there before, but the stark—indeed stark—contrast between this hospital and anything I have seen in North America just hits me every time, right between the eyes and lower, in the region of my heart…
We walk through a crowded waiting room, down a rabbit’s warren of hallways, in doors, out of doors, down sidewalks, around corners, in other doors…all marked with poverty--disrepair, peeling paint, scarred linoleum, dingy, drab…until we are at the maternity ward lined with old, worn iron beds upon beds. Finally we find our young friend and her sister. As we chat, I look around to see many women all in various stages of labour or simply waiting—restless.
Our young friend is having what seems to be no more than the occasional Braxton Hicks contraction. She is not in active labour, and I wonder…this could be a long weekend.
As it turns out, it is, and I spend a fair bit of it back and forth to the hospital checking to see how things are going. Each time I am confronted with the realities for most pregnant women in this country:
They receive no prenatal education (unless a friend of relative gives them some advice) so they are exceedingly ill prepared. In this case, our young friend has come to the hospital far too early and ends up having a horrible weekend there, with little sleep and lots of emotional trauma…
At one stage, in the bed right across from her a woman goes through labour and delivery. Our young friend watches and her stress increases…
In the labour room just across the hallway from her bed, a woman screams in pain to be followed shortly after by a baby's cry. I sigh relief, Sarah sings, “Happy Birthday…” our young friend’s eyes become more anxious...
Perhaps anxious about many, many things. And I am thinking, reflecting on what Sarah had read on our young friend's chart: she confirmed that not only will this 16 year soon be a mom but already she is contending with HIV Aids.
At another of our visits over the weekend, Sarah asks her if she has any concern. Her response is instantaneous: “Three babies were born dead last night…”
We hear another woman screaming in Sesotho. Sarah understands and dashes into the delivery room. She’s a midwife. She has a midwife’s heart. She is not on duty. Her day at QII is Thursday and this is Saturday, but she dashes in. We hear a baby’s cry. I sigh relief.
About five minutes later Sarah comes out. She’s delivered the baby. The young mom was panicking. No wonder. The baby’s head was stuck and needed help. If Sarah hadn’t helped her—the other nurses were…obviously busy in one of the two other labour rooms—I wonder, would this baby have ended up with CP due to lack of oxygen, or would this baby also have been born dead. Thanks to Sarah, this baby will be okay—a bit blue, but quickly recovering before Sarah left the delivery room. Sarah was shaking her head in frustration. The mom was torn terribly. Had she received proper assistance, this would not likely have been the case.
All weekend, the litany goes on, and our young friend still waits for a baby that has no intention of entering the world quite yet. We encourage her: “Go home where you can relax. The baby will come at the right time. It is not time yet. Your labour pains need to be much stronger, much closer together…" . When she does go home, I leave my cell phone with her so she can contact her sister and us when her labour starts in earnest (It's now Wednesday and we are still waiting).
Meanwhile, what I have discovered is that so many women here, especially the young ones, likely especially the unwed ones, receive no prenatal education so they have no idea what to expect, and the birthing process is brutal here at QII. Can you imagine giving birth to a baby totally unassisted, and you know nothing about giving birth. Ah, these women are so strong! I guess they don’t have much choice. (Not unless they have 5,000 Maluti to deliver in a private hospital. That's about $850.00 Canadian and past the wildest imaginations of people who might be lucky to earn 40 Maluti a day!)
What to do? Benno and I are not sure, but we begin to wonder if God is calling us towards a ministry to young women here. More and more of them are entering our lives. More and more we see a huge need for this group, the girl child.
Wednesday, 10 September 2008
Lessons in Faith
"Which of you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!” Matthew 7:9-11
Faith. Our friend Thabiso provided me with an example of faith the other day.
The older of Thabiso’s two sister’s was experiencing a medical issue that was causing her a lot of pain, and causing her to miss school weeks before her major exams start. On Sunday Thabiso had walked his sister to the public hospital for assessment and treatment. Walked meant about six kilometers each way. The treatment did nothing to alleviate her pain or her symptoms. So two days later Thabiso walks his sister, still in considerable pain, about 16 kilometers (one way) to a private hospital. He has no money to pay, but he is doing what he can for his sister.
The private hospital agreed to see the sister, and diagnosed a cyst (?) that had become infected. The hospital even agreed to operate late in the afternoon. Thabiso had other responsibilities and could not stay. He had to leave his sister. We live only 5-6 kilometers from the private hospital. Thabiso’s words to his sister before he left were that when her operation was over, she should walk to our house.
She arrived at about 7:00 p.m. She was in pain and she was exhausted, and she likely hadn’t eaten since breakfast. I marvel at how tough folks are here. She had walked close to 20 kilometres (closer to 35 counting her walk on Sunday) all the while in pain - just seeking diagnosis and relief for her medical need. And she needed to return to the hospital the next day for post-op follow-up.
We fed her. Then I drove with her to her home even though it made better sense to just have her spend the night with us, and take her back to the hospital the next day on my way to work. But this family has no phone, no way to contact them. So off we went. When we arrived I asked Thabiso is he would have worried if his sister had not returned that night. He simply said, “No.” Thabiso appeared almost unconcerned.
What an interesting picture I thought. Thabiso had done everything he was capable of doing for his sister. When there was nothing more he could do, he let go and committed her to us. He was confident in our concern and in our ability to take care of his sister’s needs, believing we would not let him nor her down.
What a lesson for me. When faced with a challenge bigger than me, oh how often I lay awake and fret and worry and stew. All the while I have a God, so much more reliable, so much more concerned, so much more able to respond than I, who Thabiso trusted. Oh that I might have the simple faith in my great and awesome God that Thabiso had in me. A faith that lets go, and lets God, when I am not able.
~ Benno ~
Post-Script: I did bring the sister back home with me. She went straight to bed and crashed. She rested well, for a change having a single bed all to herself, and the next morning she had likely her first ever bath in a tub with running water. She said she felt much better, and she looked much recovered from the night before. I dropped her off at the hospital, making sure she had enough money to take a taxi (public transport) back to her home.
Sunday, 7 September 2008
Goodbyes…
Basotho do funerals very well. Unlike in North America where the process has become very ‘sanitized’ so that we have less and less connection with the person who has died, here people are given time to grieve. Time is taken to prepare for the funeral. And time is spent AT the funeral. No North American half to three-quarter hour service and off to the grave site. Here funerals go on for a long time, giving many of those who would like to say their last goodbyes the opportunity to do so, giving people permission to grieve their loss and giving them time to reflect…
So it was today as I sat from 9:00 a.m. to approximately noon while goodbyes were said, tributes were paid, and supportive comments were made to the family of our student who died so tragically in a car accident on August 23. It was hard, but it was good to have the time to reflect, to think about the gift of life--for me also to think about all my students and realize, once again, how precious they are—how their lives are so full of promise.
As the voices of the large crowd flowed together with the rich baritone of the lead singer in the eternal African rhythm, I was baptized in sound, comforted and blessed. The rhythm of life here will continue. This is the rhythm of Africa.
So it was today as I sat from 9:00 a.m. to approximately noon while goodbyes were said, tributes were paid, and supportive comments were made to the family of our student who died so tragically in a car accident on August 23. It was hard, but it was good to have the time to reflect, to think about the gift of life--for me also to think about all my students and realize, once again, how precious they are—how their lives are so full of promise.
As the voices of the large crowd flowed together with the rich baritone of the lead singer in the eternal African rhythm, I was baptized in sound, comforted and blessed. The rhythm of life here will continue. This is the rhythm of Africa.
Friday, 5 September 2008
Missing…
…the guys. I am indeed! The house feels so empty on the evenings when it’s just Benno and I. You see, over August we had a couple of my students staying here, looking after the house while we were on holidays, and then just staying on so they could use Internet and get some work done here in the city, close to the college instead of way out in the village as was the case for one of the fellows. It was like having our sons back home and I realized that I AM suffering from the empty nest syndrome when I’m not at school teaching. I miss the laughter, life and energy that young people bring to a home. Like I missed Annie and Michelle, so I am missing the guys. I loved teasing them, spoiling them, having some good chats with them and just getting to know them better.
Ah, but life goes on. We discovered that we will have to move from the house here, after all, since our landlady is moving in, so the next few months will bring lots of uncertainty then changes for us, so the guys went to boarding where they’d have some security. It would have been fun to have them stay, but I sure was blessed by their company for three weeks.
AND back at it!
Yes! I’ve just survived my first week back at school. The first day I felt so unprepared, like I’d just woken up in the middle of the night to discover that it was actually 8:00 a.m. and time to be at work. Then, on top of that scattered feeling it was announced on Monday morning that I was one of the teachers who would be on supervision duty all week long. Arggg! That meant no breaks from the beginning to the end of the day. What a week! You know, though, I survived, and it’s so good to be back. I DO love teaching. I do love my students. I do love interacting with them—bugging them, hassling them, teasing them, just sitting down and visiting with them, sharing ideas with them, challenging them… At points in my life I NEVER imagined that I’d feel this way—at times when I just wanted to quit teaching, but here I love it. My students are the greatest!
It’s good to be back.
Ah, but life goes on. We discovered that we will have to move from the house here, after all, since our landlady is moving in, so the next few months will bring lots of uncertainty then changes for us, so the guys went to boarding where they’d have some security. It would have been fun to have them stay, but I sure was blessed by their company for three weeks.
AND back at it!
Yes! I’ve just survived my first week back at school. The first day I felt so unprepared, like I’d just woken up in the middle of the night to discover that it was actually 8:00 a.m. and time to be at work. Then, on top of that scattered feeling it was announced on Monday morning that I was one of the teachers who would be on supervision duty all week long. Arggg! That meant no breaks from the beginning to the end of the day. What a week! You know, though, I survived, and it’s so good to be back. I DO love teaching. I do love my students. I do love interacting with them—bugging them, hassling them, teasing them, just sitting down and visiting with them, sharing ideas with them, challenging them… At points in my life I NEVER imagined that I’d feel this way—at times when I just wanted to quit teaching, but here I love it. My students are the greatest!
It’s good to be back.
Sunday, 24 August 2008
A Tribute -- Thabiso, you are amazing!
Thabiso, the young orphan whose family we've been helping out, is one of the most exceptional young men I know. I'm thinking of him because Benno, our young neighbor, Bokang, and I just got back from visiting Thabiso and his family. Thabiso is a fine example of a young African man who has chosen to carry a huge burden of responsibility for his family. He is COMMITTED!
In contrast to Thabiso, I remember a young fellow that I taught in Alberta saying that his dad had advised him that if he ever got a girl pregnant, to start walking in the opposite direction and not look back! Quite the advice. It stuck with me.
And now I see Thabiso, a young man with so much potential. Now Thabiso isn't in the same situation, but he HAS been handed a huge responsibility, and unlike this guy who was advised to walk--run away, Thabiso is taking the burden. I can't help thinking that he could be a Machabeng student, that he is likely bright enough to do it; but he will never do that because he has a huge load of responsibilities that he will not abandon. For that I have so much respect! Thabiso does have an older brother, apparently, that left the family, but Thabiso has chosen to be responsible for the welfare of his grandmother, his two sisters, his niece, and now his sister's new baby. What a load! I cannot imagine. As I've known Thabiso over the months, I have seen the huge burden of care that he carries slowly lift. Surprisingly! And paradoxically, since it has gotten heavier; but when we first met Thabiso I think the thing was that he was carrying it largely on his own, and now he knows that there are a few people, like us, that will help him carry at least a bit of the burden.
Yesterday Thabiso dropped by to leave a message for Ntate Benno that Matseliso, his sister, had had her baby. Earlier than we'd thought! So I said we'd try to come by and see the baby, and today we did. Again, on this visit I was reminded of all the responsibilities Thabiso has: As stated, he supports his whole family in addition to being a student. He's determined to finish his High School, and this vacation he also took on a small business (corner fruit stand) and made M350 (That's about $50. Canadian) and was thrilled and proud of his profit. Ironically, the hospital bill for Matseliso was M450, and so the money goes! I have no idea how they make ends meet, I have no idea how he sustains hope and good cheer, but he's happier a lot more lately. He's happy that the baby is healthy; he's happy that his grandmother is enjoying the bigger house they are now in (Oh, it is still so small, but SO MUCH better than the one they were in!). It is reassuring that Thabiso can find joy and happiness despite his heavy load.
As we drove home from Thabiso's I asked our neighbor, Bokang, "It seems to me, Bokang, that Thabiso is a pretty exceptional young man for all the responsibilities he has taken. Do you agree?" Without hesitation her response was in the affirmative; so it's not just from my cultural perspective, but from a Basotho perspective as well.
You know, Dylan has talked to us about the failure of men in South Africa--about their absence in the family--yet Thabiso is such a fabulous example of a young man who has not chosen to desert but is taking on responsibilities, and indeed responsibilities so much bigger than any other 20 year old I know!
In contrast to Thabiso, I remember a young fellow that I taught in Alberta saying that his dad had advised him that if he ever got a girl pregnant, to start walking in the opposite direction and not look back! Quite the advice. It stuck with me.
And now I see Thabiso, a young man with so much potential. Now Thabiso isn't in the same situation, but he HAS been handed a huge responsibility, and unlike this guy who was advised to walk--run away, Thabiso is taking the burden. I can't help thinking that he could be a Machabeng student, that he is likely bright enough to do it; but he will never do that because he has a huge load of responsibilities that he will not abandon. For that I have so much respect! Thabiso does have an older brother, apparently, that left the family, but Thabiso has chosen to be responsible for the welfare of his grandmother, his two sisters, his niece, and now his sister's new baby. What a load! I cannot imagine. As I've known Thabiso over the months, I have seen the huge burden of care that he carries slowly lift. Surprisingly! And paradoxically, since it has gotten heavier; but when we first met Thabiso I think the thing was that he was carrying it largely on his own, and now he knows that there are a few people, like us, that will help him carry at least a bit of the burden.
Yesterday Thabiso dropped by to leave a message for Ntate Benno that Matseliso, his sister, had had her baby. Earlier than we'd thought! So I said we'd try to come by and see the baby, and today we did. Again, on this visit I was reminded of all the responsibilities Thabiso has: As stated, he supports his whole family in addition to being a student. He's determined to finish his High School, and this vacation he also took on a small business (corner fruit stand) and made M350 (That's about $50. Canadian) and was thrilled and proud of his profit. Ironically, the hospital bill for Matseliso was M450, and so the money goes! I have no idea how they make ends meet, I have no idea how he sustains hope and good cheer, but he's happier a lot more lately. He's happy that the baby is healthy; he's happy that his grandmother is enjoying the bigger house they are now in (Oh, it is still so small, but SO MUCH better than the one they were in!). It is reassuring that Thabiso can find joy and happiness despite his heavy load.
As we drove home from Thabiso's I asked our neighbor, Bokang, "It seems to me, Bokang, that Thabiso is a pretty exceptional young man for all the responsibilities he has taken. Do you agree?" Without hesitation her response was in the affirmative; so it's not just from my cultural perspective, but from a Basotho perspective as well.
You know, Dylan has talked to us about the failure of men in South Africa--about their absence in the family--yet Thabiso is such a fabulous example of a young man who has not chosen to desert but is taking on responsibilities, and indeed responsibilities so much bigger than any other 20 year old I know!
Friday, 22 August 2008
Closer to home...
...as the saying goes. In the last two weeks HIV Aids has moved closer to us as Beautiful Gate has lost three people to Aids. How difficult it is, how haunting.
Just yesterday a sweet little baby girl died. It was such a horrible shock to everyone at BG because she'd been doing very well and responding well to the ARVs she was on. That's the thing, it seems, about HIV Aids: it's a bit...fickle...I don't think that's the right word...erratic...in whom it takes and who fights on.
First we found out that one of the staff members had tested positive after being sick quite a bit--diarrhea--a telling sign. He is such a lovely man--such a beautiful big smile, such warm, expressive eyes. He's responding well to the ARVs, but his wife suddenly just went downhill very, very fast and she died while Benno and I were away on holidays--not much time at all between diagnosis and death. It was hard to see the pain in Ntate's beautiful, expressive eyes last time I saw him, just before we left on holidays, when his wife had been sent home from the hospital because there was nothing more they could do. He, the husband, was utterly devastated, and he still has to carry on, with the disease, carry on for himself and for his children.
Then another staff member succumbed, again, fairly quickly.
All three of these deaths have been so quick with not a lot of time for families to prepare either emotionally or financially. Yes, families left without moms and wives. Very tough, very tough. It is hard to know that families will have to struggle on. It is hard to know that the little baby girl I had cuddled and kissed when I was at BG just before we left on holidays is gone. Hard for me; much, much, much more difficult for the volunteers and staff at BG.
Dear God I do not even begin to understand the scope of human suffering, but I do trust in your all-sufficient love and grace, and I do know that your ways are higher than ours, that you see a bigger picture.
Just yesterday a sweet little baby girl died. It was such a horrible shock to everyone at BG because she'd been doing very well and responding well to the ARVs she was on. That's the thing, it seems, about HIV Aids: it's a bit...fickle...I don't think that's the right word...erratic...in whom it takes and who fights on.
First we found out that one of the staff members had tested positive after being sick quite a bit--diarrhea--a telling sign. He is such a lovely man--such a beautiful big smile, such warm, expressive eyes. He's responding well to the ARVs, but his wife suddenly just went downhill very, very fast and she died while Benno and I were away on holidays--not much time at all between diagnosis and death. It was hard to see the pain in Ntate's beautiful, expressive eyes last time I saw him, just before we left on holidays, when his wife had been sent home from the hospital because there was nothing more they could do. He, the husband, was utterly devastated, and he still has to carry on, with the disease, carry on for himself and for his children.
Then another staff member succumbed, again, fairly quickly.
All three of these deaths have been so quick with not a lot of time for families to prepare either emotionally or financially. Yes, families left without moms and wives. Very tough, very tough. It is hard to know that families will have to struggle on. It is hard to know that the little baby girl I had cuddled and kissed when I was at BG just before we left on holidays is gone. Hard for me; much, much, much more difficult for the volunteers and staff at BG.
Dear God I do not even begin to understand the scope of human suffering, but I do trust in your all-sufficient love and grace, and I do know that your ways are higher than ours, that you see a bigger picture.
Tuesday, 19 August 2008
Rest and Rejuvenation
We are just back from a brief holiday away from Lesotho. It was a break I needed. For three months I had been covering 2, sometimes 3, roles at Beautiful Gate and I had been feeling a bit weary. At the end of each day I pretty well just sat and read some news or did something else that was not particularly creative nor mind challenging. But folks are returning to Beautiful Gate from their leaves and furloughs and when I return to work on 25 August, the pace and task should be less demanding. I will then have no excuses about lacking the energy to respond to e-mails or to compose a blog entry on a more regular basis. I am way behind in providing some updates on what is happening for me here in Lesotho.
Our holiday included a few days at the Indian Ocean. We stayed at a rustic but wonderful place where we pretty much had 4-5 kilometers of beautiful sandy beach shared only with a host of little crabs who would go scrambling down to the surf at the first sight of our silhouettes on their horizon.
Nothing but sand and ocean.
The location was a nature reserve with some friendly wildlife, and one day we took a 14 kilometer walk with the animals. The highlight from the walk was probably getting up close and personal with a number of giraffe who looked down on us with interest and curiosity.
A camp visitor
We also found time and places to explore, including some hiking in the mountains.
Just one of many sandstone overhangs, this one a large one.
That is Wendy at centre stage.
The landscapes here are so different from the Rockies and I am enjoying exploring in them. The sandstone landscapes offer generally easy hiking and many interesting shapes.
How does nature do that?
(The sandstone, that is ...)
The ancient lava flows have less intrigue, and are much tougher to reconnoiter. One thing I learned is that I may have to increase my level of physical activity as I am finding myself puffing more along the trail, and a bit more weary at the end of a day of hiking. Another change, maybe a reflection of age, is that I enjoy the challenge of route finding as much or more as reaching the goal.
A view from the top.
Dylan joined us for the last couple of days. It was good to catch up with him regarding his trip home, and to also do a couple of hikes with him.
Dylan hanging around under the largest
sandstone overhang in the Southern Hemisphere.
It is spring here, and the early flowers are out. We have peach blossoms in our yard, and also found many flowers along the paths and trails.
One of many flower pictures taken by Dylan.
At the risk of offending my Alberta friends, the last fall rose on our rose bush bloomed in mid-June, and the first peach blossoms were out the first or second day of August. Seven weeks of "winter"!!
A 'Zulu Straight Back' amidst the blossoms.
Wendy had her hair done up in an African style and received numerous compliments from many local women along the way. Her "Zulu Straight Back" style even had folks pointing from a distance, waving, and giving her the thumbs up sign.
We enjoyed many sights, including the elusive eland. The eland is a large herbivore about the size of an elk. We were able to capture the cow on film but the bull stayed out of sight for all but a few moments and then he was off and away.
Elund cow. Another sight - gas is pricey here too, and some folks are downsizing.
Suicide doors!!
These two are vintage BMWs. The two tone in circa 1958.
They do have two wheels, tucked close
together, at the back.
It was just what I needed, a restful and rejuvenating time away.
Benno
Our holiday included a few days at the Indian Ocean. We stayed at a rustic but wonderful place where we pretty much had 4-5 kilometers of beautiful sandy beach shared only with a host of little crabs who would go scrambling down to the surf at the first sight of our silhouettes on their horizon.
Nothing but sand and ocean.
A camp visitor
Just one of many sandstone overhangs, this one a large one.That is Wendy at centre stage.
How does nature do that?(The sandstone, that is ...)
A view from the top.
Dylan hanging around under the largestsandstone overhang in the Southern Hemisphere.
One of many flower pictures taken by Dylan.
A 'Zulu Straight Back' amidst the blossoms.We enjoyed many sights, including the elusive eland. The eland is a large herbivore about the size of an elk. We were able to capture the cow on film but the bull stayed out of sight for all but a few moments and then he was off and away.
Elund cow. 
Suicide doors!!
These two are vintage BMWs. The two tone in circa 1958.They do have two wheels, tucked close
together, at the back.
It was just what I needed, a restful and rejuvenating time away.
Benno
Wednesday, 6 August 2008
A year in a life
Well, here it is August already and we have been here in Lesotho for just over a year now. How does one measure a year in a life? In lots of small and large ways, that when it comes down to writing about, they all just seem mundane or trite—just everyday—but truly (maybe because I’m so darn analytical) the trivial always adds up to a lot of things that I mull around in my head and they become the big issues of life, mainly about relationships...
Sometimes I am challenged to avoid a developing jadedness. How do I explain this? I want to be WITH people not to be USED BY people, and sometimes, being white, it seems like relationships with people here are often about what you can give and not who you truly are. That’s a tough, tough statement, but, truthfully, it is something I am currently struggling with. An example of this is that in Sesotho makgowa, the name given to white people, does not belong in the ‘people’ but the ‘things’ category. What does that suggest about relationships?
Relationships can be so complicated here because there is such an imbalance and such inequity. Yes, I am guaranteed a certain standard of living just because of where I come from and the color of my skin, and it really isn’t ‘fair’, so to what extent do I have a responsibility to even the balance? Tough question. No easy answer. Living in Alberta, relationships were easier because there everyone can have a job and opportunities are much closer to equal. I never—never felt guilty in Canada for what I had. Here I do often. I question my purchases and often think in terms of how much of a day’s wage for the average Basotho the item is.
It’s complicated a lot of the time here, if I dwell on it, like when the little street urchins stand outside the grocery store and beg for money. The easy way of appeasing my guilt over the inequity is to hand them a few coins; but what am I solving? Am I not just creating a plethora of other potential problems? Am I not just being exploited by them? Trust me, that happens a lot to makgowa (white people) here. Sometimes I see this exploitation happening and it feels like I’ve been kicked in the gut. When little kids come into the grocery store, even, and ‘plague’ the white shoppers and ignore some equally well-off Basotho who they know they will not sucker for even a small coin… When people ignore all the Basotho and head straight for the white person as they walk down the street and ask that person for a job or some money… When people like Michelle who gave so much to help a young lady at MIS is asked—the last time she sees this young woman—for yet one more THING. Not, “I will miss you; your friendship has meant so much to me; not “I appreciate your help,” but, “You should give me…”
And it’s tough here because saying thank you is not as ready a part of this culture as it is in Canada. Often when one gives, one does not hear a thank you. I can prepare meals for my Basotho friends who will seldom say thank you. That does not mean they hated the food or that they are ungrateful, but it just seems that way when it happens time and again. Again, it’s kind of like when we go to the bank to get out money. Of course we don’t say thank you to the bank machine. Ouch! Now that shows the extent of my struggle and my potential for jadedness!
Then there’s the communication barrier. Although this is a dual-language country, with English as one of the official languages, Sesotho is still the language of choice; and if I REALLY want to become ‘at home’ here that is the language I need to acquire. Oftentimes I just wish I knew Sesotho really well and maybe sometimes I would not let on just so that I could partake in the conversations around me…like Saturday when I sat in a busy, busy salon for 3.5 hours having my hair braided and the whole time, other than the few words that were exchanged between myself and my hairdresser, I only heard about five English words. There was this constant buzz of conversation around, and possibly at times, about me, and not more than a few words I could understand. It is an isolating—very isolating—feeling, to be WITH so many people, but not to be OF them…
But, I cannot expend a ton of energy analyzing this or I become discouraged, uncertain and ineffective.
…yes, relationships: The thing is, though, despite the challenges of relationships, the people here are lovely, warm and friendly, and my students are still the center of that feeling for me. Several have been dropping by or have been in touch by email and it has been good to see them, and to offer help or suggestions on their ongoing work projects. This is help that is not demanded or expected by them, but freely offered by me, given because we have a relationship that I’m comfortable with. I do like my students, and because Maseru is such a small city, almost every time I am in town I see at least one or two. With the students, it’s just always about exchanging ideas or a pleasant greeting, not about exploiting this makgowa for money or food…
…and, despite my negative comments about thank-you’s I have not been totally fair. We have some friends, like my student whom I was able to find the scholarship for, who are effusive in their thanks and who overwhelm me with their thankfulness ;-)
…then there are the other friendships we are building and I am so grateful for those relationships that are just about spending time together and enjoying each other’s company. In addition to our Basotho friends, my colleague, Flesba, whom I can vent to because she’s makgowa/Basotho having lived here for over forty years; there are Dean and Sarah (just a joy to spend time with—comfortable people); Andy, a delightful young Irish fellow with a wonderful heart for kids, who came and watched a movie with me and just visited…
But, this is enough. This has become a long (kind of) diatribe which was not the intent when I started! I think I’m just going through some cultural adjustment and will work my way through all this relational ‘stuff’.
Meanwhile, I’m crazy sitting here when I could be out enjoying another fantastic African August day. Winter’s grip has loosened upon the land here. The peach trees are blooming—ALREADY! The weather is so fabulous here in August, and good for the spirit…
Sometimes I am challenged to avoid a developing jadedness. How do I explain this? I want to be WITH people not to be USED BY people, and sometimes, being white, it seems like relationships with people here are often about what you can give and not who you truly are. That’s a tough, tough statement, but, truthfully, it is something I am currently struggling with. An example of this is that in Sesotho makgowa, the name given to white people, does not belong in the ‘people’ but the ‘things’ category. What does that suggest about relationships?
Relationships can be so complicated here because there is such an imbalance and such inequity. Yes, I am guaranteed a certain standard of living just because of where I come from and the color of my skin, and it really isn’t ‘fair’, so to what extent do I have a responsibility to even the balance? Tough question. No easy answer. Living in Alberta, relationships were easier because there everyone can have a job and opportunities are much closer to equal. I never—never felt guilty in Canada for what I had. Here I do often. I question my purchases and often think in terms of how much of a day’s wage for the average Basotho the item is.
It’s complicated a lot of the time here, if I dwell on it, like when the little street urchins stand outside the grocery store and beg for money. The easy way of appeasing my guilt over the inequity is to hand them a few coins; but what am I solving? Am I not just creating a plethora of other potential problems? Am I not just being exploited by them? Trust me, that happens a lot to makgowa (white people) here. Sometimes I see this exploitation happening and it feels like I’ve been kicked in the gut. When little kids come into the grocery store, even, and ‘plague’ the white shoppers and ignore some equally well-off Basotho who they know they will not sucker for even a small coin… When people ignore all the Basotho and head straight for the white person as they walk down the street and ask that person for a job or some money… When people like Michelle who gave so much to help a young lady at MIS is asked—the last time she sees this young woman—for yet one more THING. Not, “I will miss you; your friendship has meant so much to me; not “I appreciate your help,” but, “You should give me…”
And it’s tough here because saying thank you is not as ready a part of this culture as it is in Canada. Often when one gives, one does not hear a thank you. I can prepare meals for my Basotho friends who will seldom say thank you. That does not mean they hated the food or that they are ungrateful, but it just seems that way when it happens time and again. Again, it’s kind of like when we go to the bank to get out money. Of course we don’t say thank you to the bank machine. Ouch! Now that shows the extent of my struggle and my potential for jadedness!
Then there’s the communication barrier. Although this is a dual-language country, with English as one of the official languages, Sesotho is still the language of choice; and if I REALLY want to become ‘at home’ here that is the language I need to acquire. Oftentimes I just wish I knew Sesotho really well and maybe sometimes I would not let on just so that I could partake in the conversations around me…like Saturday when I sat in a busy, busy salon for 3.5 hours having my hair braided and the whole time, other than the few words that were exchanged between myself and my hairdresser, I only heard about five English words. There was this constant buzz of conversation around, and possibly at times, about me, and not more than a few words I could understand. It is an isolating—very isolating—feeling, to be WITH so many people, but not to be OF them…
But, I cannot expend a ton of energy analyzing this or I become discouraged, uncertain and ineffective.
…yes, relationships: The thing is, though, despite the challenges of relationships, the people here are lovely, warm and friendly, and my students are still the center of that feeling for me. Several have been dropping by or have been in touch by email and it has been good to see them, and to offer help or suggestions on their ongoing work projects. This is help that is not demanded or expected by them, but freely offered by me, given because we have a relationship that I’m comfortable with. I do like my students, and because Maseru is such a small city, almost every time I am in town I see at least one or two. With the students, it’s just always about exchanging ideas or a pleasant greeting, not about exploiting this makgowa for money or food…
…and, despite my negative comments about thank-you’s I have not been totally fair. We have some friends, like my student whom I was able to find the scholarship for, who are effusive in their thanks and who overwhelm me with their thankfulness ;-)
…then there are the other friendships we are building and I am so grateful for those relationships that are just about spending time together and enjoying each other’s company. In addition to our Basotho friends, my colleague, Flesba, whom I can vent to because she’s makgowa/Basotho having lived here for over forty years; there are Dean and Sarah (just a joy to spend time with—comfortable people); Andy, a delightful young Irish fellow with a wonderful heart for kids, who came and watched a movie with me and just visited…
But, this is enough. This has become a long (kind of) diatribe which was not the intent when I started! I think I’m just going through some cultural adjustment and will work my way through all this relational ‘stuff’.
Meanwhile, I’m crazy sitting here when I could be out enjoying another fantastic African August day. Winter’s grip has loosened upon the land here. The peach trees are blooming—ALREADY! The weather is so fabulous here in August, and good for the spirit…
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