Ah Lesotho

Ah Lesotho, where the street sweepers wear orange overalls, and brave the traffic whizzing by as they push their brooms, sweeping up the dirt and grit and garbage along the main streets of Maseru.

Ah Lesotho, where being a bricklayer includes knowing the in and outs of manning a bucket, or rather brick, brigade to move a load of bricks from a truck, or to an upper floor of a building, where the more skilled toss and catch two bricks at a time.

Ah Lesotho, where a little girl’s glamour is stepping into/onto a couple of mismatched pop cans which fold around and clamp onto her heels. Then, in mincing steps, she parades down the runway in her mind.

Ah Lesotho, where the rain is just another burden to bear on the way to work or church or other commitment. I often wonder what it is like, for few have an umbrella, to arrive at work or church or wherever, damp and cold. Yet they stoically carry on, dressed in their best, committed to getting where they are going despite the rain.

Ah Lesotho, where the parking hawkers (those that find you a parking space for a handout) double and triple park vehicles to increase their take. For the past number of months part of one two-lane street has been down to one lane, due to the triple parked cars. More recently drivers have had to brave oncoming traffic to skirt the now sometimes quadruple parked vehicles. (I often wonder how the guys parked next to the curb ever get out.)

Ah Lesotho, where there is always a vehicle or more on a street with a wheel off, maybe a flat, but more often a bearing or other front end failure being repaired.

Ah Lesotho, where taking my vehicle to the repair shop, lest I end up being one of those break downs on the street, has resulted in innumerable trips back and calls to the shop. “Are the parts in yet?” “Have they been ordered?” Three weeks after the initial visit, “Okay, yes, I can bring the car in?” Six hours later, “Ntate, no one in town had the parts, but maybe tomorrow.” My car sits in the shop, apart, overnight. The next day, still no parts, the old parts are put back on so I have the car for the weekend. The next week, “We have the parts.” The car is taken in. Six hours later, “Ntate, the number on the box indicated it was the right part but it does not fit. We will try to … .” I had to pay a deposit to start this process. Will I ever see my car fixed? Can I get my deposit back? It is now five weeks on. Things take time I guess.

Ah Lesotho, where despite their general reputation for surly customer service, I have met many friendly and helpful people in my recent business dealings. Even the folks where I am ostensibly getting my car repaired have been friendly and sympathetic, despite being frustratingly inefficient.

Ah Lesotho, where my troubles, put into perspective really are of little consequence. A recent news headline proclaims that one in four goes to bed hungry. Where the King in his address to the national university graduating class cautions the graduates about their limited job opportunities in an economy where unemployment exceeds forty percent.

Ah Lesotho, where yet the sounds of children’s laughter echoes up from yards and streets. Where young athletes train (running up a hill** - sometimes backwards - that this one time marathoner can barely make half way up) dreaming their dreams of stardom, where the rhythms of life carry on and the human spirit still strives to rise above the shackles and deprivation of want and need.

Ah Lesotho.

~ Benno ~

**(Few vehicles can make it to the top of that hill without downshifting - for many it means downshifting all the way to first gear.)

Mad Dog of Mohololi Street

We live on Mohololi St. (pronounced Moh-hoh-loh-dee). It is a reasonably quiet and safe neighborhood, though we have had intruders on a couple of occasions. After one such intrusion when our duplex neighbors had their car damaged we borrowed a dog to create at least the illusion of some security. Well the dog’s owner is our new neighbor so now the dog, Spodge, is back.

Spodge is a black lab. He is most dangerous when he sometimes slams into ones legs when you are playing with him. On the plus side he does bark when someone strange is at the gate, though once he gets to know someone he is pretty ambivalent about them coming or going.

The other day as I was driving up to the gate a number of boys from the neighborhood greeted me. “Can we play with the dog,” one asked? Great, I thought, just what I need, a guard dog who is the friend of everyone in the neighborhood. I hastily concocted a little lie, “Aah, but the dog might bite you.” (Spodge has not bitten anyone to my knowledge.) I parked the car and went back to close the gate. The boys were still there. They seemed undeterred by my comments about being bitten.

Likely they had seen Spodge laying around, sleeping in the sun, or playing with our Basotho friends, knocking little kids over with his wagging tail, or nonchalantly wandering around the neighborhood. At any rate, they were not buying my comments about Spodge biting them. They had a come back, “We will just get him to play with our soccer ball if we think he might bite.” So there I am fumbling over what to say to deflect that offer. “Aww ... , the dog might bite the ball and deflate it.” It was then that Spodge intervened.

Either he interpreted the pheromones I was giving off in my angst as me feeling threatened or he felt he had to live up to my suggestion that he was a ferocious guard dog. At any rate, this blaze of black ferocity comes charging up behind me, barking and woofing and growling. Right past me he blasts and kids go scattering like chickens before a fox; the soccer ball rolling to my feet, cast aside in the boys’ head long dash for safety.

When I returned the ball, there were no more questions about 'playing' with the dog. After closing the gate, I gave Spodge a good scratch and chuckled. The stories those boys would be telling their friends and family would do nicely in creating the myth of the “Mad Dog of Mohololi Street”.

~ Benno ~

Waiting and Other Things

Waiting. I find myself waiting often here in Lesotho. It is just part of life. Right now I am waiting. A meeting is scheduled, but no one is yet here and the meeting was set for twenty minutes back. The other day I sent someone a note, asking whether we should meet at a certain time on Saturday or set a time for Monday. No response. But then around the tentative meeting time a call. “I am waiting.” Her response to my cajoling about letting me know in advance was simply, “I thought I would let you know when I arrived, and then I would wait for you.” She thought nothing of having to wait, and really, in this case she was being thoughtful of this 'lehooa'; she didn’t wish to keep me waiting.

Or maybe folks here like meetings no better than anywhere. When it is going hiking with the same folks, they are right on time. I sure enjoyed a couple of recent hikes we took. Instead of heading for the mountain tops, we went down into the river valleys. It is spring and the air and days are still cool, but come the hot days of summer I will be looking forward to getting back to some of the falls and beautiful pools we found.

Reflections

Wendy had most everyone on the 'water slide'

and into this pool.

Climbing up a water fall.

In my last entry I mentioned wondering where and how God would lead in the days ahead. It looks like another move for us. Again, we have been asked to vacate our premises, to make room for someone else. I was telling Wendy that folks are not too interested in places until she gets her hands into them, adds her touch of charm and turns a bland, unkept space becomes a welcoming home. Then those who were ambivalent about the space decide they would like to have the space back. Our current home is actually a YWAM location. Their suggestion was they had no need for it back in late 2008, so we could stay in it, ostensibly for as long as we desired. However, folks from YWAM who have recently visited have commented on how nice it now looks. So now … now we will see where God has for us next. Wendy commented that it is God’s way of reminding her not to put down roots in a place, but rather, in the lives of others.

The sunsets we will miss when we have to move.

The Mustard Seed (Lesotho) Society (MSS) is now a registered entity in Lesotho. The process went reasonably smoothly everything considered. Today when the team again met, we developed a modest plan to have some small programs in place by December. The most important initial program will be simply to compile information on how to access school funding for girl orphans, and to assist them in the application process. We also want to offer opportunities for the girls to develop confidence and a sense of self worth, as well as teamwork skills. There is an organization here that offers one and two day such workshops so we will be looking to organize such an event in the New Year. So, though the Mustard Seed still feels a bit unstructured we are beginning to develop some programs. Hopefully in the next couple of months I will feel more comfortable, and less in that ‘in between place’, as we begin to provide concrete supports to girl orphans and young women here in Lesotho.

The Mustard Seed - Mark 4:30-32

But back to waiting. When folks finally all arrived today and we at last got started (only an hour late), I asked the group why it was that for hiking they were ready on time, but for meetings not so? Were the meetings that bad? They verbally said it was not the meetings, but the unreliability of the local transport system on weekends. There may be some truth to their excuse, as when hiking I tend to pick them up at their homes. Maybe I don’t’ need to go scrounging up a John Cleese video on meetings after all.

~ Benno ~

This pool was clear, but cold.

I'm looking forward to coming back on a hot day this summer.