Smitten and In Love

I must confess. There is another woman in my life. Well, more correctly a girl, a tiny girl. But she has stolen my heart. Her name is Neo.

You may remember my entry where I described three babies arriving within the span of about a week. One was aged 6 days, one was about eight weeks, and the third was five months old. (I had reported then that she was four months.) All three babies weighed less than 3 kilos. One of he babies, Palesa the eight week old, died shortly after arriving. Neo was the five month old. She weighed in at 2.9 kilos and after loosing Palesa I was so worried about her. Here is a bit of her story.

Born: 26 April 2007

Her mother was referred from a northern town to the hospital here in Maseru where she delivered Neo (or maybe arrived with Neo). The mother subsequently died. Neo remained in hospital for five months during which time there was no contact from any relative or family friend.

Mother’s Name: Malibe
Father’s Name: Not known

Home Village: Not known. We just know that the mother was referred from a town north and east of Maseru.

Arrived at Beautiful Gate: 28 September 2007

Weight on 28 September 2007: 2.9 kilos

Today Neo is still tiny. She weights in at 4.6 kilos. She still does not sit up on her own. She does not yet try to roll over or stand on her tiny legs. But she has stolen the heart of a grizzled old guy who visits her every day that he is at Beautiful Gate. He is no longer worried that she might not survive. Rather, she is growing and smiling and he just needs to see that smile and have a wee chat with her about how she is doing.

No folks, I am too old to consider adopting her, but ... if one of my sons should get married I sure could recommend a grand-daughter to him and his wife.

Here is Neo (and a smitten admirer).



~ Benno ~

Loose Ends

It is about time I tied up a couple of loose ends as I have not made an entry for nearly a month. I have gotten too busy at work. Wendy has said I never brought so much work home when working for the provincial government, and that I need to find a better balance. One casualty has been time for updating our blog.

Mountains III: This goes back to October and my trips to the mountains with my finance clients. The second trip was with my “client” who is into trading. He is able to secure things in Maseru that folks in the mountain villages value, things that often have little value here. If he can get them to his home village the folks there are most willing to pay with grain, sorghum or maize. The problem is transport as I again learned. This time the trip was longer in kilometers, but better roads. The catch was that the last 4 kilometres was a hike in.

So, after a three hour drive we walked 40 minutes into his village. There we loaded up donkeys with sorghum, and back to the truck. Unload the sorghum, and load up the items for the village. Back to the village, load up the donkeys with more sorghum, and back out to the truck. Those little donkeys are so tough.

These photos are from a different trip but they give

a picture of what the little donkeys carry.

Then it was the drive home, up and down incredible grades with about 800-1000 pounds of sorghum. The costs of using a Beautiful Gate truck were M600, and I was concerned about what kind of return Ntate Edward would be able to make on his investment. I need not have worried. He is doing fine, if you consider folks showing up at his door at 5:30 a.m. in hopes of getting sorghum directly from the mountains. Apparently the imported sorghum sold in the stores just does not compare. Ntate Edward spent a few extra Maloti here in Maseru to get the sorghum ground, and now folks almost line up to obtain ground sorghum direct from the mountains. He looks to recoup his investment with a healthy return. I am most pleased for him.

The challenge, as in my trip with Ntate Kuene, is transportation. The villages can produce food products, the challenge is getting the product to market. The subsidized Beautiful Gate vehicle will not often be available.

Water and Electricity: The saga of utilities at Beautiful Gate continues. But I have learned that if us Makhooha (white guys) might have been a bit more willing to ask the Basotho staff some questions we might be further down the road, especially with the power.

We do have water. And I am so proud of our Basotho guys. They were the ones that make the final arrangements with the water authority and figured out how to set up an effective, though interim, connection that means we no longer have to worry about running out of water.

And, when explaining my understanding of our electricity connection woes to the Basotho staff I work with directly, they pointed out most clearly the steps one needs to follow to obtain a connection. Yes, it is a bit of a tedious process, but had we Makhooha been a bit more humble and only asked and then followed the process we would have power by now. Rather we are finding ourselves having to apologize to the power company for our rather demanding attitude and only now begin the process. With Christmas upon us it may be late January before we get through the process and connected, but at least we are on the right track now.

The next entry (above) is a further update, but I wouldn't want to call 'her' a loose end. :)

~ Benno ~

Disparity

There are so many ways to define disparity here, but one of the most recent ones was experienced today. I've been curious about the local gym and decided to check it out and maybe get a membership; so Benno and I walked into town early this morning. Well...everything I had heard was evidently--very evidently true. Just walking past the huge tennis and basketball courts outside, with great seating all around, AND the huge 25 m. outdoor pool my head was shaking with the opulence of it all, juxtaposed against the poverty here. This complex covers about half a city block, and once we walked around and found the main entrance and walked down the lovely terraced boulevard down to the entry doors I was feeling like this must be another universe. Inside, I discovered the best-equipped gym I've ever seen. It is HUGE and has every possible piece of equipment any training athlete could hope for, PLUS another 25 m indoor pool, PLUS a full-sized gym and a clubhouse...WOW! Obviously there are some people here--I guess the ones who drive the Mercedes--who can afford the luxuries. Also, the gym was the generous gift by the Central Bank (like the Bank of Canada) to its employees, and anyone else who chooses to purchase a membership. What a fabulous community facility. In Canada, we'd expect it. In Canada, this would be like some of the world-class facilities created for the Olympics in Calgary.

But here? Here, where the local hospital is a nightmare? Here, where just yesterday our young friend, Thabiso, dropped in for a visit to tell us that his sister has been very sick and to thank us for the bed. I am reminded that their little 'house' is likely smaller than one of the washrooms at the big gym facility. The needs of Thabiso and his sisters are so very very HUGE yet meeting them, financially would be just a drop in one of the swimming pools of the snazzy gym.

I'd love to be able to just hand Thabiso all the solutions; I do hand him a bit--enough to buy a bit of food and maybe a Christmas gift for his sisters and grandmother--and my small gift feels like a mere drop in the deep pool of his need.

And now, Benno sits at our dining table visiting with a friend who has just lost his job--no notice--because the construction job he was doing is now finished. This friend also has just acquired the extra responsibility of some family members who are now living with him...and his challenges go on...And he goes on with such dignity in the face of so much potential for despair.

Here, disparity is defined in many ways. Here, questions are weighed on a larger, more imbalanced scale. The disparity creates a dissonance in me that I find hard to endure. But even here, I wonder...will I get a membership at the gym? Will it matter if I do? Will it make any difference if I don't? Who will care? What does living in the midst of this disparity do for the local wealthy who use the gym and drive around in their expensive cars? Who knows? What really does it do for any of us? We see it all the time, don't we? Do we just all eventually become inured?

~Wendy~

Looking for a Project??

(This entry is for anyone who might know of a school or service club wanting to partner with a school in another country (like Lesotho) and fund raise on behalf of the partner school here in Lesotho.)

Encounters, are they ever random? As I was heading down from my most recent day of solitude on the mountain I noticed what appeared to be a school group had climbed the mountain. As I neared the bottom I came across three Basotho women. Being the friendly folks that Basotho are, they greeted me. They were teachers with the school group and we chatted for a while. Then, as I am white, the seemingly inevitable request, what could I could do for them financially? I took a chance and asked them what they needed. The response was not what I expected, it was for their school, not for themselves. The school they teach at is a rural school. The school does not have a p perimeter fence, nothing to keep the cows and other livestock away and from damaging the school property. They wondered whether I could contact my friends back at home and see if someone might assist.

I was now faced with another inevitable question. The need in this country, as in so many non-western countries, can overwhelm a person. Which contacts and encounters are ones that God is asking me to follow up? Was this one of them? How would I know? I didn’t promise anything, but I did take some contact information. Once home, I wrote them a letter asking for more information. Yesterday I received their reply. In my letter to them I indicated I would just share their situation, so here it is.

The School: Lesiamo Primary School
Lesiamo Primary School is located in a rural area of the District of Leribe in the north of Lesotho. It would be likely a 3-4 hour drive away depending on the quality of the roads. As a primary school it offers grades one to seven. The enrollment is about 275 pupils and there are 10 teachers.

The school is not an English ‘immersion’ school but English is taught as a subject.

The Problem: The school property has no perimeter fence.
The school maintains a large vegetable garden, about 125 M x 200 M. The garden provides a source of income for the school as the vegetables are sold in the local community. The proceeds are used to purchase learning materials for the children.

The school is some distance from the village. The herd boys allow their livestock to enter the garden and damage it. In addition, the herd boys often break into the school in search of money, damaging windows and doors as well as tables and desks.

The Proposed Solution: A perimeter security fence.
The cost of a perimeter fence to protect the school, play area, and garden is prohibitive for the school. The cost of materials alone will be just under $4000Can.

So, if you know of a school, or service club, or maybe a combination of both looking for a project, I am prepared to do a bit of contact/connection work from this side. I could do things such as visiting the school to confirm the situation; obtain additional information as needed; and helping with transmitting information back and forth. As a school project it might facilitate some cultural exchange between children whose first language is English with students learning English.

Amidst the needs such as the grandparent headed households I mentioned in my last entry, it feels foolish to offer such a project as this. But, … maybe it wasn’t just a random encounter.

~ Benno ~

Helpless and Helpful

Not a week goes by here without some reminder of the immense needs in this country. The past weekend I was again so graphically reminded of this.

I was out at Beautiful Gate on Saturday. We are changing our salaries structure in response to some changes in the country’s minimum wage guidelines, and I was updating the different teams on the changes. As always, when adjustments are made to wages, not everyone is happy, and I was dealing with some disappointment and a tinge of bitterness from a couple of staff regarding the modest increases. Our meeting had been interrupted by a report of a woman at the gate with a baby, so after the meeting the team leader and I checked out that situation.

We were expecting a request to take a baby but we were wrong. Instead, in juxtaposition to the complaints of not receiving enough, was a woman in tears. She was the baby’s grandmother. The mother, her daughter, having died last May of AIDS when the baby was but an infant. This grandmother was now caring for the baby, and while the baby looked so very healthy, it had been ill for a couple of days. During that brief illness the grandmother had missed some days of work from her job in the garment factories. Missing work at the factories is anathema and her position had been given to someone else. So here she was, now unemployed, with a grandchild to care for, and pleading, with tears in her eyes, for a job at Beautiful Gate.

Oh, the pathos of the situation, and the feeling of helplessness in my soul. Yes, we are hiring relief workers but I have 60 applications on my desk, many with a similar need. What I could do seemed so minimal - giving her an application, a ride to the taxi (bus) stop, and a few rand. For me it was a trying moment in another way. One of my hopes in coming to Lesotho was to make a difference in grandparent headed households. Here was one in front of me, and I was helpless. I hope God will allow our paths to cross again someday when I might be able to do more.

But the day didn’t end with helplessness. Later that Saturday I had picked up a simple bunk bed we had ordered for Thabiso and his sisters. When I arrived at their home, only the grandmother was there. She can’t speak a work of English, and her Sesotho is garbled due to a past facial injury, so I couldn’t grasp a word she said in Sesotho, but working together to got the bed together. It was a rewarding and special time.

First, Thabiso had noted that a bed would be something that would be helpful, and it was fun to think about the reaction when he and his sisters would arrive home to the bed. Then, it was just such a special moment, spending time with the grandmother. It is the third time I have met her and I have come to so enjoy her. Though we come from worlds apart, we share an interest in the well being of her grandchildren and that brings us together.

God you are so good. How do I measure the joy, the privilege, the endorphin high, that you provided me from spending time with this grandmother? The step by step journey with God, that has led me to where I am today, is a journey with no regrets other than sometimes wishing I could do more.

~ Benno ~

Thaba Basiu with my IB1 crew

Sunday, November 18th. (This one is out of sequence. It just took me a while to upload all the pics. Hope you enjoy them!)

Last Sunday I celebrated Byron's birthday (our youngest son) by taking a whole crew of guys...and one lovely girl, on a hike, since Byron wasn't here to celebrate! What a great day it was.

I had so much fun watching these all-too-serious, very dedicated students just having a blast being carefree. For most of them this was their first trip up to this historic mountain, and the information provided by the guide before we went up was news to some. For me it was a great pleasure to be able to share an important part of Basotho history with my students.

On that magical plane between grass and sand. Indeed, this sand on the top of the mountain was believed to have magical qualities so that it cannot be taken off the mountain. It is very, very fine sand, but the guys that got their hair full of sand figured that it COULD be carried off there quite easily!
The guys decided...well...with a bit of prompting, to 'dig in' to that lovely sand!
("This is what we sometimes do at the beach in Canada" ;-)




No sooner did we get this fellow buried, but...

Yeh... His cell phone rang and he was up out of the sand as if something had bitten him! 'Twas funny for sure. The ubiquitous cell phone.
One other guy was talking on his cell phone, and I asked him later who he'd been talking to on the top of the mountain and he replied that he'd phoned his mom to tell her where he was. Although she's lived here in Lesotho all her life, she has not been to this historic mountain. This is not uncommon as it's just another one of those things that lack of time and money make prohibitive.

Not to be disrespectful or anything, but it was just fun to be able to play. Here we have a miraculous 'raising from the dead' by our 'preacher'.

Here the dancing man is just celebrating the day.

Okay, THIS part is a serious moment for me. Whenever I look at this pic, I am reminded to say a prayer for these wonderful, fine young men and women that they can dance in the face of death--for themselves at least--that they will make wise choices and stay free from HIV Aids.

A gorgeous promontory. I'm not sure that's the correct geological term since it doesn't stick out into the ocean...other than the great ocean of blue sky.
Some of the guys beside King Moshoeshoe the First's grave. I like it much better than the next one...
This one is King Moshoeshoe the Second's grave. Pretty fancy compared to the rest of the royal graves on top of the mountain. King Moshoeshoe II was the father of our current King Letsie. He died in a car accident in 1996.

This is some albino member of the royal family...not an anomaly here.

In the distance you may be able to make out the peak that the Basotho Hat is designed after. I forget its name...

So...that was our journey. What a fabulous day it was for me. Great fun!

In

Murals @ Mavis'

This Saturday, November 24th we put the finishing touches on the murals in the girls' dorm. I am so impressed with this wonderful group of students who have the heart to commit their spare time to giving service to others.

This lovely little rose among the others was the MAIN artist and mural designer. She is one talented gal. Without hesitation she picks up pencil or brush and brings an empty surface to life.
We started this morning by moving some things off this top shelf. It WAS a moving experience, indeed, for me since the cockroaches came running out from under. These were the first roaches I'd ever seen, which my students found rather...interesting, since roaches are 'a way of life'.
Our group was small this week since there was a BIG school activity going on--another service project--a fundraiser for the Blind Centre in Maseru. In addition, the girls who are residents in this dorm were away on an outing today, so it made for a peaceful time with a small group.

A very nice 'thorn' among all the roses! K.B. is one smart guy, hey! HE had all the girls to himself today and seemed to be enjoying himself.

Here's the other wall. The idea was to make a picture for each of the girls, even those on the lower bunks, so less than half of the beautiful paintings show in this picture...but the girls will enjoy looking at the rest while they're in their beds.

We just weren't able to move all the beds out of the way to take a full picture, since the room is SO small.

Sights and Situations

Each day in Lesotho seems to offer yet another view of life here. Here are a few sights and situations from the last month or so.

The Cost of Dying:
A few weeks back I was confronted in a most graphic way with the cost of dying here in Lesotho. I have mentioned before the funeral tradition here that expects the grieving family to host a meal after the funeral service. All who wish may attend the funeral and it is a major embarrassment for the family if they run out of food, especially meat, for all the guests.

A family that lives along the side road leading to Beautiful Gate lost a son. He was in the army and died during exercises in the mountains, so it was going to be a large funeral. In Canada we normally bury the deceased within a few days. But when you need to plan and prepare for a feast akin to a wedding banquet that takes longer than a few days, and very often it is weeks or a month before the funeral is held.

In the case of the soldier’s family the first sign of funeral preparations was that the solitary sheep in their yard was joined by a couple of others (a months wages there). Then a week or so later, a steer appeared in the yard (two or three months wages). Then a couple days before the funeral the barbecues, tent, and chairs began to arrive. The day before the funeral the yard was a hive of activity. Woman were preparing vegetables, and on a trip into town that day I noticed the men butchering one of the sheep. On the way back from town the men had just put the steer down, and on the way home at the end of the day, they were working at breaking the carcass down to cooking sized pieces.

Until I actually saw it so graphically, I couldn’t imagine having to slaughter two sheep and a medium size steer just to feed the folks who would be attending the funeral of a family member? What a lot of work and preparation! Then there would be the costs to rent barbecues and chairs and a tent. And that does not even consider the funeral home costs.

In Lesotho people take out death insurance, not to be confused with life insurance. This insurance is basically a means of providing for the cost of dying. Families without such insurance often spend their life savings and/or go seriously into debt to bury a family member.

Using Your Head:
On a totally different note. I am continually impressed with the toughness of the people here. Who in Canada would consider carrying their empty barbecue tank a kilometer or two to have it filled, and then carry the full one back home on their shoulder? Yet I see that all the time here. Then recently another interesting sight, how to get lumber home when you haven’t a vehicle. I saw what looked like a man and a wife carrying home a number of pieces of lumber. He, up ahead, with the wood resting on his shoulder. She, walking some 8-10 feet behind, with her end of the load balanced on her head.

Chicken Wings:
I was waiting for the Beautiful Gate taxi one morning. (When it rains my walk means traversing a muddy area, so I catch the taxi instead.) It was raining lightly that morning. Here comes a mom, wearing her Basotho blanket. On either side, like little chicks with a hen, were pairs of feet, walking along huddling out of the rain under Mother’s blanket.

‘Lekhooa’ on Thaba Bosiu:
On Sunday (Nov. 18) Wendy had a trip planned to Thaba Bosiu with some of her students. Wanting another adult along she asked me to attend, which I did though I also invited along Ntate Kuena and his wife. When all arrived at Thaba Bosiu there were seventeen Basotho, none of which had ever been to this major national historic site located barely 40 kilometers from Maseru. Meanwhile it was my fourth trip to the mountain. This resulted in a bit of a surreal and awkward moment for me. The Basotho knew the history of their mountain but not the mountain, and so this lekhooa (white guy) from Canada was the tour guide, showing them parts of their mountain they had only heard about.

The trade off was that I got to learn a bit more of the history of the mountain, and Wendy had an absolutely delightful time with her students. Leisure is just not much of an option here, and it was a delight for her to see her students in a place where they were able to relax and take in the joys of the moment.

Home is 8 by 10:
I know people in Lesotho live in one room homes, one room homes that are the size of a single bedroom in most Canadian homes. But again, to actually see and be in such a situation was to bring home the reality. We visited Thabiso’s home. His family’s whole life is housed in an area about 8’ by 10’. And the roof leaks along one side when it rains. There is no table, no bed, no closet. Well, there is a bed - a spot on the floor about the size of a single mattress where some sort of padding has been pulled together. There, three adult sized family members try to find rest. Their clothing is piled, albeit neatly, on the floor to one side of the room, and a couple of little shelves pass as the kitchen. Three people live and sleep here, while the youngest sister and grandmother take most of their meals here. They have a small shelter a few homes over in which to sleep.

Home, is 8 by 10. There is no electricity and water is purchased from a home nearby where there is an outside water stand pipe.

Thabiso had indicated that a bed would be helpful. And it would. A bunk bed would offer so much. Why you could store stuff under it. Hooks screwed into the wood would provide places to hang things (unless you have a masonry drill here, hanging anything on the walls is a challenge). And for the same floor space you could actually have two beds in place of the current ‘bed’. This weekend we hope to deliver a bunk bed, as well as a shelf unit built by Ntate Kuena. When home is 8 by 10, space saving devices trump labour saving ones.

'Til next time.

~ Benno ~

Back to the Orphanage

Saturday, November 17th.

This morning a group of IB students and I headed back to "the other" orphanage to do our mural on the wall of the girl's dorm. Once again, I am so very impressed with the talents and the heart of these young people I am privileged to work with. I did my part: got the paint and all the supplies together, drove the 'taxi' - van - full of kids to the orphanage, told them we pretty much had 'free rein' and away they went.

After a quick consultation with the resident girls, the 'owner' gave the little ones the exit signal and my students went to work. What a job!

First we tried to move the big shoe shelf so we could paint it outside, but after a quick look behind, only to discover a colony of cockroaches, we decided to leave well enough alone. While some painted this mural wall a...well let's just say...BRIGHT fushia and pink, one very talented art student quickly drew gorgeous, detailed flowers and butterflies on the opposite wall--by the girls' bunk beds--and the other students followed behind, painting.

Wow! Plain walls transformed into colour and life! All the while chatter or singing along to music...

I just found my little happy niche with a paintbrush or wipe-up cloth and soaked in the wonderful energy that these students exude.

Well...that is, until they started with the, "I'm tired. I'm hungry. When should we stop, Mrs. Fath?" Ah, yes, teenagers. The stomach is paramount!

They did work very hard and we wrapped up the project with just some finishing touches to go back and do. All this in five hours. They're a hard-working AND talented crew!

God bless them. I'm pretty sure their work will be a blessing to some lovely little girls. Butterflies and flowers to join the cockroaches. Hey, why not?

Tomorrow I take another IB group hiking up a mountain (another mountain). I must like these kids, hey?

Cheers,

Wendy

Mountains Again

The last two weekends have been wonderful experiences in the mountains checking out the efforts of my business ‘clients’. If I thought I have seen what Lesotho is about I realized how limited still, is my understanding and appreciation for the people and the land.

Weekend one was an 80 kilometer trip. The first 50 kms took about an hour, the next 30, two hours. It was so much like traveling a logging road in B.C. The difference being that there are few trees, mostly just some small bushes, so there is always a great view. The last few kilometers I noticed the only tracks on the road were cow tracks. No vehicle had been by for some time. I also noted that if there was any significant rain while I was in, it would be awhile before I would be able to get out.

This trip was to support my ‘client’ (Ntate Kuena) with the pigs. It was a interesting trip in so many ways. We arrived and got to work right away. Neighbors and old contacts from the village came by to see what was happening, but this was no ‘barn raising’. There was not one offer to help. Oh yes, if a tool was needed it was readily made available, but there was not a hand to assist. At the end of the day when we had pretty well completed the fence, they came by to express their admiration and that they had not thought we would complete the project. The next day one of Ntate Kuena’s friends did assist, but as a paid helper. With his assistance we were able to complete the project including building a shelter for the pigs.

Another learning is that when you are a three hour trip from the nearest hardware store you make do with what you have. (I am still not confident in the fence we constructed. I kept thinking of the pigs in Canada, and that they would have found a way out in short order. But after seeing another local pig fence, I accepted that maybe the pigs here are a bit less assertive.) Then there was the location, a rocky hillside with only 12-16 inches of soil to plant our posts and in some spots so soil at all.

There was also the industriousness of Ntate Kuena. We worked from noon until dark on the Saturday with but a brief break for a simple meal. Then he was up and out at the break of dawn, about 4:45 a.m. I was a tired old man halfway through the second day and didn’t even try to keep up.

Sleeping in a 60 year old hut was a bit of an experience. This was not a hut that was well used of late, but it still kept the weather out, though not the fleas. I came home with dozens of little bites from something.

Here are a few pictures to help tell the story.

The long winding road into the mountains.

Terraced fields.

Oxen plowing down below the road. Yes, I was looking down onto the backs of the oxen from the road.

"Just head up that road to my place," Ntate Kuena said.

A village scene. Yes, most people's pigs run free in the winter, but with spring now arrived they are expected to be tethered or fenced because of the damage they to to gardens and fields. The chief was quite impressed and pleased with Ntata Kuena's effort to fence his pigs.

Ntate Kuena's family compound, built by his grandfather some 60 years ago. The huts are still being used, but are in need of some repair. His father lives in one of the huts.

If there is a camera, all the kids of the village want in, and as you can see some are real posers.

And where there are kids, there is jump rope.

Part of the family. Ntate Kuena has two girls, the younger lives with him in Maseru, the older (5 years) chooses to live with the grandfather in the village. Also, living in the village is Ntate Kuena's sister-in-law. When he married he also assumed responsibility for the orphan sister of his wife. She lives helps with the care of the 5 year old, and cooks for the grandfather.

The piglets roaming free.

The farmer and his now fenced in pigs.
Like every farmer, Ntate Kuena wanted me to see his fields. They were beautiful down along the Makhaleng River, but a couple kilometers from the village, and down about 250 vertical meters. Ntate Kuena's field in this photo is the one with five terraces in the middle of the frame.

The mountains, ...

Travelling with Ntate Kuena was most enjoyable. Like anyone taking another to his home town, he was pointing out this and that - the school a village built on their own, a school he attended, the chief’s fields, the mission, and other details of his past. It was a special time to share with him.

There is yet another mountain story to tell, but that one will need to wait for another time.

~ Benno ~

Mountains

It has been a while since I have been on line. I have gotten myself a bit too busy, and have neglected putting together an entry. This one feels rushed but, nontheless, ...

November 01, I was back at Thaba Bosiu for my day of solitude and prayer. (In October I was not able to go to Thaba Bosiu, and so hiked to the top of a small mountain here in Maseru.) Back at Thaba Bosiu I learned something new - on weekdays the mountain doesn’t open until 8:00 a.m.! Thaba Bosiu is a historical site and visitors are charged 10 Maloti to visit it. There was no one to take my money before 8:00 and the security guard at the info centre, though most polite in Sesotho and limited English, advised me that I could not go up. So I drove off down the road and enjoyed a couple of hours of wandering, thinking, writing, thinking some more – like, “If these sprinkles turn to rain and I am still on this stretch of road I will be here a lot longer than I had planned!”

I was back at the mountain shortly after 8:00, and after paying my fee was on my way up. It was threatening rain so I headed to an area where there is a large overhang. There were no motor cross bikes this time, just the cacophony of cow bells wafting up from the valley below.

I think what I enjoyed the most this time was just the solitude. Work has been very busy for me the last while, and the solitude was most refreshing. I read, talked to God, slept a bit, but mostly just rested. Towards the end of my time I felt encouraged, and refreshed, as well as challenged. As I prepared to descend there was a song in my heart:

how can i keep from singing your praise
how can i ever say enough
how amazing is your love
how can i keep from shouting your name
i know i am loved by the king
and it makes my heart want to sing Chris Tomlin

I needed that encouragement and refreshment, but dear God, why the challenge?

Why is it that we human being so often grumble about what we don’t have rather than rejoice in what we do have? And just because one is from a poor African nation, one in not immune from grumbling. Amongst our staff we have grumblers and complainers too, and their attitudes are a drain on others and have been a bit of a discouragement for me. And then us white volunteer staff are not immune from grumbling either. The challenge that God confirmed for me on the mountain is that I need to do something, that I need to confront attitudes that do not bring glory to God. But why me, God??

It would be so easy to turn away. Who am I, a white person from a privileged western country, to confront people, especially the Bo’m’e, about their attitudes? I have no idea of what their lives are like. But God won’t let me squirm out of this challenge.

God has poured blessing upon blessing upon Beautiful Gate. Hundreds of thousands of dollars have come in – but for the building projects. Even the latest newsletter appeal brought in $10,000 for a future project I don’t think we even need (God obviously sees it differently) but few funds for day-to-day operating costs such as salaries. So I am sure it is difficult for the Bo’m’e, earning $100Can, to understand why there is not more for them and to grumble a bit

So God, what is my piece in this? Somehow I need to build on the many, many positives I see here, and on the wonderful work that the Bo’m’e do each day, often under the trying conditions that they have endured. Yet, I also need to invite them to praise God for what we have at Beautiful Gate, and to share in trusting and looking to God to provide, not to Ray (the founder). Like the Israelites who needed to learn it was not Moses they were to look to, but to God, so with the Bo’m’e and the rest of us who are often quick to complain.

So that is my challenge. An opportunity to speak to the Bo’m’e is coming, and to my other colleagues it is taking opportunities as they arise. Pray for me that my words will be compassionate and helpful. (I was not the most helpful when commenting to my boss on his sometimes ‘seagull’ management style, and I had to go back to him and apologize for not explaining why it is a less productive management approach.) Yet God has been faithful and I am encouraged as he has used my words in other circumstances to prepare the ground for reconciliation and understanding between individuals.

So Lord, may I have your wisdom and your love, but could you offer somewhat less of a challenge during our time together on December 01.

~ Benno ~

(Thabiso, Wendy introduced you to him, was also in my prayers there on the mountain, and I am delighted that we are again in touch with him.)

IB1 Mountain Hike

Life is NOT just about the destination...

A recent trip with my IB1 Standard Level class brought us to the top of a local mountain to look down on the view below.


















In the process, we gained quite a different perspective on Maseru, and as the foreboding clouds attest, we had quite the adventure with rain, hail, lightning and booming thunder.

It was, however, more about the journey. I had a great time chatting and just getting the chance to be with these fine people in a non-conventional classroom setting.

In the cleft of some amazing rock we rest...

A solitary moment to reflect on the grandeur...

Three Basotho warriors taking on the elements

View of the Chinese garment factories in Ha Thetsane district of Maseru. They are massive. I don't think any of my students had seen the factories from this perspective. This provided some opportunity to discuss the advantages and disadvantages of foreign investment. The Chinese have invested a lot and provided a lot of jobs for people here, jobs that are essential in an economy with over 25% unemployment. The designer jeans of North America are CERTAINLY made on the low wages of factory workers here--approximately $100. Canadian a month. Unfortunately, there is NO VISIBLE EVIDENCE of Canadian financial support to Lesotho. (For my past English 20-2 students at HJ Cody, this may evoke memories of the poem "denim blues"!)

At the end of our trip, we listen to Ntate Edward relate his story about facing challenges (the guy in red). This Basotho man really inspires me to keep believing, trusting and maintaining a vision.

Thanks to my amazing IB students who made the journey with me. It was a memorable day!

By the way, if anyone knows of an English specialist teacher who would love to come and have the experience of a lifetime with some outstanding students, the school is in need of a teacher, preferably with IB experience. NO, you can't steal my great students, but the rest of them are just as wonderful.

~ Wendy ~

(P.S. Just in case you are wondering, I DID get permission to use the pics!)

Lunch with Thabiso – Sunday, November 4th.

I’m at home today, typing a blog entry (the previous one) and somehow over the noise of my music and my focus on ‘the story’ unfolding before me, I hear the faint sound of a rattle that usually signifies someone come to visit, kind of like our North American doorbell, you know?

“Thabiso! Where HAVE you been? We WERE worried about you. Would you like to come in (Eeish, Wendy, he didn’t come all this way to just rattle the gate. Really! And he looks so sad.) […A quick inward sigh and an outward smile. Smiles help me…]

Thabiso is the young man (19) that came by the gate a while back. He and his two younger sisters have been orphaned for a year. One of many child-headed households in Lesotho, Thabiso’s is a pretty desperate one; no doubt we don’t really begin to know just HOW desperate… Thabiso and his sisters had disappeared for over a month. The last Benno knew, they were facing potential eviction because they could not make the rent payments. Thabiso has two years left in high school and has been trying to be a student while working to provide for the family.

As Thabiso and I visit over some lunch he tells me that they did get evicted and are currently living in a place for M80 per month. A rental fee of just over $10.00 Canadian a month? Does it create images of JUST how bad that place must be? It does for me.

“How are you getting by, Thabiso? Do you have food?” Some maize meal is about it, and I tend to believe him. So far, as Benno has checked his story, everything he has been telling us is true.

“How’d you like that thunderstorm last night, Thabiso?”

“Not so much, 'M'e. When it rains, our roof leaks.”

[I’m just sitting there, going through the motions, trying to lighten the situation a bit with my weird humor. I am so, so, so overwhelmed by it all—by the realization that Thabiso is only one of many, many desperate young people and children. I am so overwhelmed as I look into his eyes and read the pain in his soul and the strength in his spirit. Even in despair he is so dignified and seems determined to survive. His voice catches and stumbles, curbing the tears, and this is no “put on behavior”. Oh yes, cynicism is my constant companion—under the surface where I hope it is hid. ‘Everyone’ is needy here and many want help from people like us. We feel so strongly about ensuring that we help appropriately, and that we help the RIGHT starfish.]

I think of the orphanage I visited yesterday and don’t even want to mention that as a solution…

“How is school going? How did exams go? (He was under a lot of pressure right then, so I hunch that they didn't go as well as he would have liked. How could they?) How are your sisters doing? What do you have for food? … The questions fill the pregnant silence that I am not good at dealing with.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking all these questions. I am really just very curious…babble, babble ;-) “ I DO manage to get a couple of smiles from him, so it’s worth it—tentative ones. His teachers tell him that he is very quiet and that he seems to be carrying a heavy burden… Yes, he exudes an emotional tiredness that I have only seen in those who are grieving, who have lost someone or who are going through deep waters.

“Thabiso, can you come back tomorrow evening when Ntate Benno is home so we can talk more about how to help you?"

I give him a few groceries and some money. God, please let this be the right thing to do. How could it be wrong? I feel inept, overwhelmed, uncertain yet certain...Give me wisdom. Give me discernment, God.

“Thabiso, when you first came to our place, why did you come HERE? You could have gone anywhere in Maseru? … Do you think God directed you here…I don’t know, I just wonder?”

~Wendy~

Service Work and Visiting the 'OTHER' Orphanage

Saturday was a thrill for me as I had the joy of taking eleven students from the school I work at to a local orphanage where they will be doing some volunteer service hours. They're IB students and are motivated to do service work by the fact that they have to accumulate fifty hours of service work before they graduate. As I anticipated (but was not sure, since all but one student is Basotho) they were pretty wide-eyed and appalled by the conditions, initially. Yes, there are LOTS of things about THIS orphanage that are quite shocking in terms of health and safety! It is NOT Beautiful Gate, by any means! Walking past the ablution block provided the most poignant few moments with the nauseating smell of open sewer wafting up as it flowed along a shallow trench. Then there was the smell in the girls' dorm and the even worse smell in the baby room. The students were pretty shocked.

After they saw some of the 'improved' areas, however they began to loosen up. The boy's dorm has received a very recent mural job, thanks to some wonderful volunteers from Australia (the ones I went pony trekking with), then the kids' activity rooms are pretty great. In true African style, when the students were shown these rooms, they just walked right in and got down and relational with the kids who were there. It helps to speak the language! Soon they were fully engaged with the orphanage kids playing pool, table tennis, cards or just chatting.

Soon my curiosity was captivated as I saw our tour guide give the "okay" to three young boys, then a brief few moments later I saw these same lads splashing about a short distance away. "Let's go check this out," I suggested to a couple of the gals who were standing by me, and we headed over to the nearby (dangerously close, some would say!) swimming hole (hmm...mega mud puddle) to watch the three kiddos who were just having a great time cooling down and splashing about, spewing mouthfuls of this...water, with big grins on their faces. Soon there were about fifteen kids from about 3-10 chasing around, splashing or then waiting for the pools to settle so they could catch tadpoles. Biology 101!

The boys, picking up pieces of sheet metal from under the water's surface...leaving the glass bottle close by, though, evoked comments from my students--social comments; you know the type. From first-world standards, it was absolutely all a big "no-no" but, you know, there was something so very refreshing, natural and non-institutional just watching children explore their world and be totally entertained without the constraints.

Just so I am not misunderstood, I WAS an observer of WHAT IS, not what I think SHOULD BE. Any intervention on my part, in this context would have been totally arrogant and inappropriate unless I planned to move in and devote my life to these kids, LONG term. I HOPE you can understand that. Unfortunately not all people do. Not even people here who come as volunteers, with their own pre-conceived ideas and Western standards, trying to implement the world as they are conditioned to believe it should be, well-intentioned as they are, only to disappear and leave their big cultural ideas to vanish with them. Whoosh! Where did THAT emotional Tsunami come from? ;-) Yes, indeed, as is typical for me, I was reflecting very philosophically on the whole experience as it unfolded, along with one of my wonderful students whom I really think should become a politician here. He is surely developing a social consciousness. He was full of questions about this orphanage since he lives close by and knows all about the negative reputation it has gained over some past practices...

Shortly we headed back towards the girls' 6-12 dorm where we will be painting murals over the next few weeks. This was yet another blessed experience for me as I watched the wonderful young people from my school walk in and take over so naturally. One girl is quite a natural leader and she had all the girls sitting on their respective bunks, then had them introduce themselves, then had my students introduce themselves. They then went on to discuss ideas about the mural and how the girls wanted their dorm decorated. The occasional "grrrreeen" or "pinkie, pinkie" was about all I could understand, but is was a lovely thing just listening to this collaborative chatter. Language: Sesotho, of course. THIS is how development projects should be done, hey, consulting with the stakeholders! Compromises were made and the final result has yet to be seen, but I'm sure excited about seeing that red and pink wall! Have faith! It will be wonderful with some lovely multicolored flowers to separate the two non-so-complementary hues! It will work, I KNOW if will!

After the consultation process, the gals all began to sing and dance. What fun to clap along, watch and listen to the wonderful LOUD sound in the small space.

What was BEST about the whole process? The way what can be intimidating and appalling normalizes when we CONNECT with the people, is what I found most moving. Sociology 101. That was the thing I watched happen, so that by the time we left my students were quite comfortable and looking forward to returning to do the painting.


Step by step? Oh, yes! I am so thankful to be on this journey.

While I'm thinking of it, if you can journey our way, we'd love to help facilitate that and to show you around. You'd be welcomed!

Wendy

Mostly Weather

No, I am not getting so bored that I am resorting to writing about the weather, but …

November is nigh upon us, and my brain is having problems. The calendar says late October, but it is not like any late October thus far in my experience. First, there is nothing to remotely remind me of Halloween, though a few Christmas things have gone up in some stores. And, then there is the weather. It is nearly November and there is nothing to suggest that winter and freezing temperatures are just around the corner, nor that frost or snow and imminent.

Rather, Sunday was as beautiful a day as I could imagine. A bright, but cool, morning with dew on the ground to start the day. A gentle breeze, warm temperatures but not too hot, and lots of sunshine during the afternoon. Then a pleasantly warm evening with the crickets and frogs chirping in the background to end the day. The garden is coming up, the grass needs cuttings, the roses are still blooming, and the pull to putter about the yard for most of Sunday afternoon was irresistible. Snow? Frost? Cold? It is almost November and such things are not even on the radar. I find it easier on my brain if I try not to think about what month it is. Rather, I am just enjoying each day as it comes.

Apparently October has been somewhat cooler and wetter than normal, which translates to high teens to mid twenties as highs, and that fits just perfectly for me. I am relishing each day, as the doomsayers are warning that the hot, hot days are just around the corner.

(Since I wrote that above few notes, the great weather just rolls on. There is no day light savings time here and I am a morning person. What that means is that at 5:30 the last few mornings I have been out wandering about the yard, just to take in the wonderful start to each day.)

Oh, and by the way. Did I mention that after being here for over three months, and despite the water lying about the last five weeks, I have yet to see a Lesotho mosquito. One more thing to relish while it lasts.

The next few days I am looking forward to. Tomorrow, November 01, I will be spending another day on the mountain. I am looking forward to it. I am covering a lead role at Beautiful Gate for the next four weeks and will be wanting God’s wisdom and strength so I don’t want to miss the day of solitude with God on the mountain.

Also, on Saturday I hope to head deeper into the mountains. I had mentioned my small time financier escapades in a recent entry. One of the perks of being a big (er, small) time financier is to invite myself to see first hand what my ‘clients’ are involved in. This weekend I will provide transportation to the fellow looking to fence in his pigs. We will be heading out with the fencing materials and seeing if we can complete the fencing job over the weekend. It will be an opportunity to experience rural Lesotho up close, spending a couple of days and a night in a small rural village. I plan to take pictures and intend to provide you with a blog update next week. I am most looking forward to the experience.

Until then,

~ Benno ~

Mountain Majesty!

October 14-17 I was on school holidays, and what a fabulous time I had off pony trekking for four days. From beginning to end it was an experience of a lifetime. An Aussie friend, Nicole, who teaches at Machabeng’s sister school, Maseru Prep, along with three of her visitors from Australia, headed out…

Sunday: Pack up—bare essentials only, since we had a weight limit and that would include the food we were packing in. I did bring rain gear which happily was NOT needed.

The first night was spent at the Lodge—very civilized—with a great dinner and fun pre-dinner entertainment from a local choir and a “home-made instrument” jug band.

Monday: Loaded up the ponies and headed out for six hours of riding to Ha Ribeang village and my immersion into the rural life of Lesotho. Along the journey I soaked in vistas of undulating green crops, red earth, rock outcroppings and mountain peaks all juxtaposed against the bluest sky.

All along the way small villages were sprinkled across the landscape. As we passed through these, the small children would run out to greet us with, “Dummella Ma” or “Sweet? Bonbon?” This country is VERY inhabited! There are villages or single huts all along the way; and just when you think there is no one around, the figure of a solitary shepherd comes into view, with his herd of goats, sheep, or cattle. Spring is teeming with life in the ‘rurals’.

THE RIDE! This was my initiation to pony trekking, and I figured I was “just going to DO IT” and not let any nagging fears (like Benno getting bucked off and spending four months in a torso brace, or my lack of experience with horses, or the stories about the steepness of the terrain) scare me off. Sure glad I did NOT let any of those things stop me! Equally glad I did not really know just what that terrain would be like, or I’d possibly have chickened out!

Not too long into the journey we hit the first steep downhill section and my horse balked, absolutely refusing to go so I got off and led her down, which was the start of a great relationship. After this act of consideration on my part I think she figured I was reasonably intelligent, although inexperienced,and FURTHERMORE evidentially kind, so after that she was very good to me.

In the process of the trek I gained an HUGE, HUGE respect for these small but very rugged animals. Wow! The vertical slopes these horses navigate! The elevation gain. Stairmaster indeed! The rocky terrain they pick their way through! The sheer rock faces they can climb or descend! (One sheer face I would not have done on foot, but my pony handled it with huge stamina and skill. Fortunately this was near the end of the trip and I had great confidence in my pony by then, so I just held on and thought, “Oh well, you only live once!”)

VILLAGE LIFE!
The villagers are most kind and hospitable and the children were happy for a rousing 'Round and Round the Garden...' or 'Ring around the Rosie'.






















Going to the village, I regretted our ignorance of some protocal. Apparently it IS most appropriate to bring a hospitality gift, and this lovely Ma
(Basotho Madonna and child, I'd say) requested clothing. As you can see, clothing or shoes would be appreciated. (Although lack of clothing on this small lad is typical--saves diaper use) Next time I will go prepared with some gifts for these folks who so kindly hosted us.

Arriving back at Malealea we had time to stop in at a local 'watering hole' to sample some home brew. Scarey tasting stuff! The hospitality, however, made it worthwhile. Upon arrival, the folks in this dark hut were a solemn and dignified crew; however, once Nicole started dancing Basotho-style, they got the message and were soon a gyrating, ululating, vibration of life!

The last and final stage, a ride home in a local taxi, was 'the icing'! The locals were quite impressed that we white people were on a taxi. In fact, through translation we learned that Agnes was absolutely thrilled. She'd had two taxis pass by without having room for her and when she got into ours, it just made her day--like the Fates had conspired on her behalf! Wow, I never expected to be a 'locals attraction'. The boom, boom, boom House music in the taxi; the friendly smiles; the very, very frequent 'ins-and-outs' of passengers; the stop to let the overflow of passengers sneak out before the police stop that had been signalled ahead; the crazy, crazy, chaotic ending at 'taxi central' in Maseru, weaving through the mass of taxis and crowds of people at the markets; and convincing our driver...well he'd exited so the assistant found us ANOTHER driver to deliver us and our luggage ALL the way home, all just polished off an FANTABULOUS trek.

Lovin' Lesotho!

~ Wendy ~