So it's taken some time but I've finally been able to piece together most of my thoughts on the trip to Lesotho. Let's be honest, Europe was just to see friends and ease my way back into a world unlike the one I spent 2 months. My service in Lesotho is just the tip of what is to come, I'm sure, and it's already had a huge impact on me so there is no telling what the next year will bring. So below... written in countless spots along my journey - my final reflections on my time in Lesotho. :)
If this is the only blog you've read but you want to read more and are like "holy shit jessica, you write... A LOT" and don't even want to start... check out 2 of my favorite blogs:
3:30am - posted Feb 18
Found an Old blog from Lesotho - posted Feb 6
I have also uploaded 200 pictures, mostly from Leostho but there are some from Cape Town as well as my travels through Europe.
Pictures from my travels
If you're not on Facebook for whatever reason, I have 10 videos I posted on there as well you can view, let me know and I'll upload them to Picasa so you can view them. :)
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Reflections of the Mountain Kingdom
Capturing the words to sufficiently detail the experience I had in Lesotho has seemed like an impossible task. Even discussions with those who were there with me, leave us silent for moments at a time while we try to collect the thoughts swirling inside our brains and feelings in our hearts and try to marry the two into words and complete sentences. As I sit on a train from Brussels – Nord to Luxembourg, I long for the life, the simplicity, the pure untainted happiness of the people and my friends I grew to love, even more so than after my first trip to the country. The impressions I leave with today are similar to those I had after my trip to Lesotho in 2008, only with much greater intensity. It’s simple - you don’t need much, almost nothing but the bare necessities of life, to experience true, complete and genuine happiness.
You walk the hillside, which is green, gorgeous, covered in sand stone and little houses built wherever they can manage. People will acquire their land through either their family or paying the government and then slowly build their homes, brick by brick. They may earn enough money to buy a few hundred blocks for the foundation of their house and start with that, a month later, another hundred and they will keep going, building their 1-4 bedroom house gradually, over time. Some houses have many rooms, some are simple 1 bedroom houses with a bed, a table and a stove. Many houses don’t have electricity or running water but they will get water from a well in town to for cooking and cleaning. Most also don’t have a bathroom and either they built an outhouse just beside the house or they use a bucket. Almost all of the houses have ample land for agriculture and livestock. They grow their own food, raise their own sheep, goats, cows and chickens for milk, eggs, personal slaughter or to sell. When I see people unhappy, it’s when they or a family member is not well and in need of medical attention they not only can’t afford, they don’t have access to. The unemployment level is ridiculously high at some 50-60% and I believe that’s only counting the men in the country. Woman are generally not taught to work, besides for the family and home, which is pretty apparent by some of the female volunteers we had from the town. The thought is, any job a woman takes is one away from a man, when it’s already hard enough to find work. It’s old school, it’s not like it is in the US but that’s the way of life here. The woman tend to the house, the farm and the children. The country has no real industry to supply jobs, they don’t even have the infrastructure to support big industry. Imagine Seattle with only I-5 connecting the cities to each other but once you arrive in a city it’s all unmarked dirt paths, rocky hills and expansive land as far as the eye can see to get from one place to the other. It’s amazing but it doesn’t make it easy to get around. My friend Megan and I talked about how we could help Lesotho better use their resources, like the sun, to allow them uninterrupted, sustainable power, how they could tap into their mountains for tourism and expand their ability to supply their country people jobs but the first thing I thought was, “oh god, that’s a fine grey line to dance between keeping Lesotho, Lesotho and turning it into something ugly.” The biggest fear I have in this world, quite literally the biggest and only, is that some industrialized country is going to realize Lesotho holds onto some natural resource and they are going to rape and pillage the Basotho people of their land, their resources and their way of life. I will be the first one there, chained to whatever rock or aloe plant someone thinks they are going to destroy. Tessa heard from someone in town, the Chinese may be the ones who are starting to do just that. We all know they have a textile plant just across the Lesotho boarder in Maputsoe, where they are taking advantage of cheap labor but apparently they have also started to mine. I hate industrialized countries thinking they have the right to take from others. Assholes!
The people of Lesotho know who they are, where they came from, they are in tune with their culture and all they try to do is be good Basotho people. You walk the streets and a majority of the time, you’ll hear traditional Basotho music blasting from cars or from the local taverns along the road side; although, they are obsessed with Rhianna. Everyone knows how to stick dance, EVERYONE! The beats thump, they raise their stick in the air with one hand and the other, on their hip, popping their shoulder in and out with the beat of the tunes. They eat the food from their land and generally, they don’t try to be anyone else or replicate any other country’s culture. When speaking to locals people talk about good Basotho men and good Basotho woman and that’s what all people strive to be. They are some of the most friendly people you will ever meet and even though there is a great language barrier, sometimes very great, patience and kindness is always the first thing you notice about them when you’re trying to communicate, which is the complete opposite I find in other countries, especially the US. When Isabel and I would do our Sunday morning runs, EVERYONE would say hello or good morning to us. I took care of replying since Isabel was still not used to the altitude J Kids would run to the roadside to wave and if they didn’t see us approach, they saw us pass and would scream “GOOD MORNING! HOWRUUUUUUUUU?” after us.
The work we did was grueling, on some days, more so than on others, less so on days when we were rained out. We woke at 5:45am each day (Isabel and I never did really get used to waking up early and we should have been up at almost 5am everyday), ate the same breakfast of a hardboiled egg, a handful or two of granola, maybe some yoghurt and an apple, left the “nun palace” to gather our tools for our respective projects for the day, had a small break to throw some of mama’s bread and peanut butter and a banana down the chop and broke for lunch at 1. Immediately after eating I napped until 2, when I’d grab another apple and gather all our tools again to work until 5. From the very beginning of our day, we passed nothing but smiling faces, although rather groggy at 6am or food coma’d after lunch, who were eager to help, thirsting to learn new skills, practice their English, talk to us about their joys and sorrows, share their music, their lives and little piece of them, each and every day. We’d talk, we’d laugh, sometimes work side-by-side in silence, just enjoying each other’s company and sometimes we’d reflect or cry. No matter how strong I think I’ve become, physically, or how much I feel like I work like a beast, the people who worked with us, each and every day, schooled me in just about every way imaginable and their strength, determination and drive, which left me in awe of their abilities. While at times, they were left with frustrated volunteers who couldn’t let go of the fact we were in a completely different land, with a great language barrier and in a country with major issues with their educational system, the Basotho working with us, never lost their patience, not a single time.
What was different this year was we actually saw, experienced and witnessed the impact of what we had done, not just for the community of Holy Names High School, which was the original intent, but on the entire community, old, young, big and small, with the creation of the bridge. I can’t even put to words how amazing it was to play a part, granted not from creation to completion, but for the final half of the work to be done on what now connects one part of the country side to the other. As we were putting together the final forms for the concrete railing, people would approach the bridge with apprehension, since there were quite a few of us working on it, and we’d let them know it was ok to pass. Some would give a simple smile and go about their merry way, some would laugh and say “kea laboah,” (“thank you” in Sesotho) some would go into great depth, in Sesotho mind you, on their appreciation of the bridge, and we would smile and nod and some would actually do a little dance while smiling and singing their praises as they crossed. On Christmas Day, a few of us went to the local market at the end of the street that is the entrance of the high school and we heard people yelling down the road to us, which wasn’t uncommon because we stick out like sore thumbs, so we just waved up the road, said “dumela” and kept walking. Moments later, three boys, probably in their early twenties, literally ran down the road to meet us, thank us for the bridge and say how wonderful it is for the community. Wow… really! THIS is why I love doing stuff like this. When I first arrived at the school and realized they had barely used the hall we built 2 years prior, I felt a bit let down and a feeling of, “why in the hell have we done some of this stuff?” swept over me but this… this is what it was about. It’s not about building massive structures to help a small piece of a community but it’s about helping everyone perform their daily lives better, with something as simple as a bridge. Because of the bridge older individuals can actually make it to the other town when it rains and aren’t confined to their side of the hill, shepards can get to the other side of the hill to tend to their sheep, cows, goats or whatever else they tend, kids can get to school and so many other things I don’t even think I’ll ever realize without actually living there prior to and living there after the fact. It was Rome’s first bridge she created and she has every right to feel as satisfied and proud as she does because it truly is beautiful and amazing!
I know Rome is now grappling with a lot of different aspects of these projects, our intentions and goals because of the overwhelming influence of this bridge. The impact was felt by everyone, even those volunteers who came after the bridge was already completed. My favorite part of working on the project was still, to this day, the day I was by myself on the bridge, thoughts of Emmanuel flooding my heart and then working side-by-side with Pule, when he joined me towards the end. I have a scar and a permanent indention in my left index finger from banging it, twice, with a hammer, attempting to chisel scraps of concrete from the ground. I love it. J The dedication ceremony, which doubled as a memorial ceremony for many of the volunteers who were not able to be present for Emmanuel’s funeral, was quite moving and a really special celebration – spray bottle of holy water and all.
I know the other things we did for the school will be well cared for and are also a big impact for them. Whether the fence was created to keep intruders out or keep the boarders in, is still unknown but I think it’s a pointless question or debate because regardless, it either keeps the kids safer or it makes it easier for the nuns to ensure those kids, under their care and supervision, are where they are supposed to be. I had a curfew when I was younger but my mom also had only 3 of us to care for, not 200+. The chicken coops will be a great way for the school to sustainably provide the community eggs for their own income or to feed the 600+ students that attend classes during the school year. I also hope the walls in the building allow teachers to utilize the space more frequently. It’s just that bridge man, god what an experience. I can’t even count how many times I walked over it in the 6 weeks I was there or how many people thanked me for it.
Working in the project for a significant amount of time allows you to see so much more of what’s going on, good and bad. There are always going to be personality conflicts when working with people so that’s just something you deal with the best you can and it’s to be expected. I was a mostly distraught with some of the volunteers, which I won’t get into in great depth here, but I will say, when you travel internationally, blend, don’t think you’re going to have this profound influence on a culture that they will morph to what you’re used to. That is arrogant and precisely one of the reasons people can’t stand American’s so bloody much. When you go to help a community, adhere to what they state is proper and what is not, don’t question, just go with it. Don’t make disparaging comments about any of the directives given by those you’re working to help. Have some patience too for crying out loud. You’re here to help a community better itself, a community where the pace is not the same and the level of education is significantly less than that of our first world, industrialized, capitalistic “time is money” country. If you can’t handle all of that, don’t show up, please, do us all a favor and stay in the states. It will make for a more enjoyable experience for all those involved.
That being said, the connections you make with the people you work with are almost more valuable than the outcome of the project itself. I know, without a shadow of a doubt, I want to go back to Lesotho, back to Holy Names, whether it be in the next year or the next 5. I want to spend more time there, donate my time and abilities to help those kids and the nuns I grew to love dearly in whatever way I can. I want to wake every morning to the sound of roosters cawing as the sun rises, I want to walk to the tac shop to get bread and hold hands with Jackie, Rosemary, Elisabeth, Matela, Mosiuoa, Grace, Sr. Agnes, Sr. Agnes, Sr. Josephine or any of the other wonderful people I grew to love as we go to wherever it is we’re going. I told Sr. Catherine that whenever I find the person who means more to me in this world than anyone else, someone to love and spend the rest of my life with, I’m bringing her to Lesotho and to this school so she can see what’s been a major impact in my life. My heart is still in Lesotho and it feels like just a beating muscle is left in my chest. I want to go back.
Meeting Rosemary and hearing her story and working with her is something I will never, ever, EVER forget. After we had grown close, it wasn’t unusual on clear nights for me to lay on the concrete bench outsides the convent, staring into the sky and wondering why some people are just dealt a shitty hand in life. She’s such a strong person, has so much personality and love for life, and from what I can see, manages as best she can with whatever illness has struck her. It took her a few days to fully understand, or more like fully sink in, that she didn’t have to leave holy names and that she could continue her education there. After she found out she failed form C, she didn’t really smile and laugh again for almost 3 days but when she did, it was so amazing. I love that girl like a little sister and leaving her was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. She left the Monday school started to head to Maseru to visit her sister and get her uniform and said she’d be back Tuesday morning but days passed and I didn’t see her. I started to get nervous because the days were drawing close to when I was to leave and no one was sure if she was coming back for school. The Saturday before I left, I heard she was to return and as Isabel and I were drilling tiny metal shards all over ourselves, I look down and there is newly bald Rosemary, and a beautiful girl who was an older spitting image of her and a little boy. It has taken longer for Rosemary to get back because her sister needed to get the money for her, Rosemary and her son to come to meet and thank me. Her sister said she didn’t know how to thank me for the gift I had given and I said, “I don’t need anything. I just want to see Rosemary stay healthy and pass her classes and move on to Form D. That’s all I want.” Outside, on my last night, Rosemary pulled me aside and between quivering sobs explained how truly thankful she was that she was able to go to school and that she had a place to sleep. She said, “If you did not come to Holy Names, I wouldn’t be going to school here. I hope one day I can do for someone what you have done for me. Jessica, you are my mother, my father, my hero and my savior and I thank and I love you.” I wish more than anything I could’ve told her when she’d see me again, when she repeatedly asked, but the truth of the matter then and still now, I don’t know but every day of my life I carry that girl in my heart. Shit, I’m starting to cry now just thinking about it. Still on the train to Luxembourg – get it together woman!
I don’t want to say that returning to the first world made me feel disgusting. Isabel and I talked about the question people have asked, “what impact has doing stuff like this had on you?” We’re both stumped, we know it’s had an impact but can’t really put our finger on it. I’ve been trying since I left to fully understand. I know I’m left with the mark of a different land on my heart, I understand others in this world lead a completely different life than what I’ve grown up experiencing and I won’t say either one is better than another, for any culture for that matter, they are just different. The people have been gracious enough to gift me the opportunity to live with them and welcome me into their lives and culture and I am forever thankful for that chance. Seeing families so close to one another, emotionally, physically, spiritually, is such an awesome experience. Tessa talked about how on Christmas, Sorhgums family, all of them, extended and all, sat in their little hut on the hill side, playing cards by candlelight and enjoying each other’s company. I found the same amount of joy, playing sex themed banana grams with dear friends, old and new, on any other night and the only thing that would’ve made it more perfect, was if my family was with me during this experience. Well, if my family was there with me to share the full volunteer experience, not necessarily the sex themed Banana Grams. J But it’s really just the simplicity of spending time with those you love. The work the people do is to support their lives, their families and those that matter most. They don’t work to attain things, or a new pair of boots, or some fancy dinner. The outcome they hope to attain is health, food, shelter, happiness and love, which if I have to say which is better, I’ll take that type of life over the life citizens of the US and other industrialized nations are taught is important. A big fancy house is not necessary, nor important, a monster TV is not important, a closet as big as a room filled with clothes is not important, an all inclusive cruise is not important, and quite frankly, ridiculous. Working 40+ hours a week, stressing yourself out, just to help pad some millionaire’s pocket book or meet some ridiculous KPI targets should be the last priority. One of my old friend’s sisters is volunteering in Nepal right now and in her blog, she has lots of comments from readers like, “We should all be grateful for what we have in our country (the US)” and the one thing I NEVER thought while I was in Lesotho was “I’m grateful for what I have” it is more, “everything I have, I don’t need, except the loved ones in my life.” What is important is your health, being happy with who you, keeping good company in the people you choose to spend your life with and treating people with genuine kindness, all virtues of the Basotho people.
What has this trip done for me? It’s made me realize when I travel, I don’t want to be a tourist, I want to get into a country, a township and really experience the way of life and be friends with those who live there. I want to see and experience how others live and have them teach me their culture, parts of their language, how to cook their food, how to enjoy their country. I also told Rome, during one of our conversations, “this project and what we’ve been able to do for this community makes me never want a normal job again.” I mean that. If I could travel the world, volunteering and helping communities for the rest of my life, I would and I just may. I’d love to have more of an impact and role in the current program I love so much where it feels like such a family. I never want to forget the people who have touched my heart and never want to say good bye, but “see you later.” I just never want to lose sight of what it really means to live a fulfilling and happy life. I can’t say I’m never going to buy something again or eat at a swank restaurant, because as my old boss said – who I fucking HATED by the way but saw truth with this statement – “you live in a different country, with a different kind of life and you just have to adapt to where you are.” I think her intention in saying that was so I could find a reason to sell more useless data services to people who didn’t need them when I came back from the trip in 2008 BUT I agree, which is why I won’t say never. What I don’t want to do is spend my life just doing something so I get a paycheck, regardless of the amount, and instead, spend my life making an impact, whether big or small, on an individual or a community. My previous blog post Be Here, Be Present, is also a look at how this trip has played a part in changing me.
I miss Lesotho though, a lot! I spent the last day and a half going through all my pictures and picking out the ones I felt were my favorite, as well as videos. Listening to the entire school sing the Lesotho National Anthem still brings tears to my eyes. Reliving the memories I have in each of those pictures makes me want to get back even more. The incessant phone calls I get from each and every one of them, wanting me to call them back to talk to them, makes me long to just hear their voice. Calls to Lesotho though, NOT CHEAP! I miss Rosemary grabbing my hand and dragging me with her, at sprint speed, to only god knows where on campus, Bokong and our discussions on gay life in our respective countries and listening to him sing along to Florence and the Machine and Sia while he was listening to my music box. I miss Mosiuoa skipping through campus after getting a letter from Row and his daily hugs and I’ll admit I dug Nkwelle flipping me countless amounts of shit. Memories of Thabang and Sr. Catherine singing my name as they saw me walk through campus will always make me smile. Sr. Agnus teasing me and singing her sweet little songs from her garden, while sporting her camo skirt are forever etched in my mind. I miss Sr. Josephine coming up during the afternoons to help wherever it was I was working and young Elizabeth shyly coming up and holding my hand as I walked through campus. Everytime I think of my best friend Tamme or see a picture of her, I’ll remember Imelda and her loud and flamboyant, Brooklyn/LA style, and the reverse will also be true. I long for the laugh Grace brought with her hilarious “Hello” *waves low*, “Hi” *waves high* and Jackie going just about anywhere I would go and wanting to learn everything he could. Swandi, as much as he is the moodiest, PMSy 12 year old boy EVER, I miss our talks about which ever girl was his new love of the week and asking me for relationship advice, which is also hilarious since I suck at them. J Mungkee’s smile, even though he’s ashamed of it, was one of the things I loved seeing most when he was around and I love how he’d attach himself to my side, wherever I went, on the days he could help work. Olga, my dancing queen, singing “It’s getting hot in here” from across campus, awaiting me to finish the song. Tumaki’s ridiculous faces and goofy attitude always made me happy and I miss helping him with anything techy and exchanging music with him whenever we had a chance. Tumo was so quiet in 2008 and something happened between now and then and he was totally alive, crazy chatter box and played music everywhere he went. Tukela, even though he graduated, came and helped with the project a bit and his ridiculously infections smile and singing made my day feel complete. Pule playing the make shift guitar and working like a beast and speaking in a very soft spoken way are missed and Matela and his sweet smile and his distance presence this time. It was ridiculously difficult to leave that kid last time and I think he purposely kept his distance this time to not feel as terrible when we all had to leave again. My last night this year, he hugged me and didn’t let go… I miss all of them, every day since I’ve left, I miss them and their country. I left behind physical aspects of my presence in Lesotho, they seared imprints into my heart that will last an eterinty. Leaving this time, I know I’m not sure when I’ll be back but unlike in2008, I know I will be back and I know I will see my dear friends again. Kea leboha my friends, kea leboha.
Signing off until June when I return to the sky and head to India,
xxxo,
Dirty, Bruised and still adjusting
