I was noticing I felt a bit chilly in the house some days back. It was just a tad uncomfortable. Then I remembered I was wearing only a short sleeve shirt. It is winter in Lesotho, and last year at this time I was wearing long underwear, three or four layers on my torso, and often wrapping myself in a blanket to keep warm. Yes, I may be adding to green house gas emissions, but I am enjoying the comfort of the coal heater in our current residence. It is a wonderful, though maybe small, pleasure, not to be taken for granted.
Kids everywhere have their sports heros and dream of being a star. The busy field across from our house hosted a two day kids football (soccer) tournament a past weekend. The kids were dressed in an array of team colours, some of the uniforms looked like they had been borrowed from local men's league teams. The fans had their vuvuzelas and the incessant drone of a few dozen of them reminded me of what those of you who tune in to the World Cup will hear from stadiums across South Africa over the next number of weeks.
The sound of the vuvuzelas intensified after a goal was scored and players raced around the field just like their football heros who will soon be visiting South Africa. As kids in Canada emulate the celebrations of their NHL hockey heros, these kids too celebrated like their heros; a couple of players to the extent of whipping off their jerseys and racing about with them held aloof, flapping in the air.
These Shoeless Joe's were part of a fairly skilled team.
The footwear of those who participated varied from soccer shoes, to cheap runners, to soccer socks only, to bare feet. Unlike hockey, kids in soccer can get by without the proper shoes, but it must hurt to get stepped on by another's cleated soccer shoe.
Sesotho: Every week after my Sesotho lessons I gain more and more respect for the people of Lesotho. So many that we meet are able to converse in English, though their language in the home and on the street is Sesotho. Indeed, I have a growing respect for anyone who knows more than one language, and what people will do in terms of learning a language to move ahead. One Mosotho woman we know took her physician's training in Russia some years ago. Why Russia I don't know, but since the language of instruction was Russian she had to learn Russian. There are many such examples of Basotho who have traveled to foreign countries for educational opportunities, learned the language of instruction, and graduated with degrees taught in Chinese, Afrikaans, Russian, or some other language. Me, I am struggling just to converse a bit in Sesotho, never mind trying to complete a university degree.
And learning to converse means trying to grasp the structure of Sesotho. Verbs, for example, can differ based on who is doing the action and who/what is the recipient of the action. "Kea tsamaile" - I walked. "Ke tsamaisitse pere" - I walked the horse. (I won't get into kea vs ke.) Then there is grammatical structure. I was trying to say that someone borrowed my shirt to wear to graduation. Part of the literal translation of the Sesotho read, "He borrowed shirt of mine that he it wear ... ." Then add in the subtle differences in words. There is the potential for a very different response from someone I tell that a Mustard Seed girl I work with has become like a morati (lover) when I mean morali (daughter)!!
My head still hurts after my Sesotho lessons. And my progress seems so slow. I guess I can take some comfort in that it is apparently easier for younger children to pick up another language than for a old guy like me. One encouragement is the medical research that suggests learning and using a second language may help keep Alzheimer's at bay for a couple more years.
Salang hantle (stay well all),
~ Benno ~
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