And so it begins...

And so it begins 10/10/14 9:00 PM

“Oh I can do that”, I offer, as I see my m’e (mother) bend to sweep the stoop in front of my door upon leaving the latrine this morning. “No, you go wash”, she commands with a slight smile. The Basotho value cleanliness above host daughters who may or may not know how to sweep the right way being sort of helpful. So I respond with “Hantle” (okay), as I laugh and obediently go into my room to retrieve my soap.

To begin, Lesotho is an astonishingly beautiful place.

Twister cloud. 

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Dry fields of Ha Ramonyaloe, the village I'm in during training. 

I realized yesterday that what with the mass of dirt that covers my body by the end of the day, it makes much more sense to bathe at night than in the morning. When I went outside to dump my wash basin out and brush my teeth, I was transfixed by the huge white moon sneaking in and out of the clouds, only slightly lighting up the courtyard and the hills that lay beyond. Mornings, my m’e knocks on my door sometime between 5:55 and 6 am and calls “Mpho”, which is the Basotho name she gave me that means gift. “M’e” I respond, and roll out of bed, stretch, and bring my pee bucket out to empty it into the latrine. It is early and therefore cool and not very windy, so there is a calm and a freshness to the air that I so enjoy. Mountains and cliffs dot the horizon, and it looks like all I would need to do to get there is walk a few feet down the rolling hills of red rocks and sand, until I realize they are much farther than they appear. The sun is bright, and the dogs look well rested and therefore not as scary as they appear in the night what with their barks and territorial growls/fights. One of my ausi (sisters) walks shyly by me, rubbing her eyes, responding when I greet here but never talking to me first. I am still new, and this is the first American that has ever lived with her or in her village.

naptime.

I wash up and dress and am sitting at the breakfast table by 6:30 or 6:45 at the very latest. My m’e rushed me the first day, saying that I needed to move much faster, even though it was only 6:30 then and I needed to be at school (a five minute walk) at 8. I don’t question her though. She’s just looking out. Training has been and will be very busy. We’ve done two Sesotho classes in the morning so far, and my teacher, M’e Madineo, is wonderful and energetic. Besides that, we’ve done various training sessions on the education system in Lesotho, Peace Corps expectations and policies, and things we should know as teachers. We’ve gotten some shots (rabies shot on Saturday!) and talked to many Peace Corps Lesotho staff and current volunteers casually and formally about us, what we expect out of our service and any concerns we may have. Everyone is really kind and warm, laughing loudly but never cruelly when we make mistakes in Sesotho or just when we speak it at all.

I really want to get good at Sesotho. Before coming here I expected that just by virtue of being here I would be fluent by the time my service ended, but after talking to some current volunteers I realized that that is not the case. After PST (pre-service training), I will need to really study and actively learn if I want to know more than the basics (greetings, shopping, names for food etc). And even though I may never use it again, I want to be able to communicate with people here as deeply as possible. Tonight after dinner my host mom taught me the names for all the major body parts while I wrote them in my small notebook that I carry around. My favorite one is “dibuno” which means butt.

It’s a very windy night here, and between the long days and the paraffin lamp, I go to bed between 9:15 and 9:30. So, the 6 am wake-up knock isn’t so bad at all.

I’m loving Lesotho.

Khotso. (Peace).

My yard at dusk.