Site placement: Qachas Nek

The Thursday before last, we trainees learned where we will be living for the next two years, and I had the incredible good fortune to be placed with Matholeng Primary School in Qachas Nek. Qachas Nek is in the far south of Lesotho, and the Drakensberg Mountains and Senqu River pass through it. I got to visit Matholeng last week, and could not be more excited to begin working there. The teachers, principal, and community were extremely welcoming, and we spent most of Wednesday in a welcoming ceremony, where different community leaders gave speeches, the students put on different skits and dances, and we closed with a feast of rice, chicken, cow innards, and ginger beer. During the ceremony, I was also given my new name for the vilalge: Rethabile Thamae. Rethabile, in Sesotho, means "we are happy." I will teach English to Standards 4, 5, and 6 and Life Skills beginning in January, and will get to work with some really excellent teachers.

My Rondavel is spacious with salmon pink walls. The view from my front door spans across the Senqu River valley to three massive, imposing mountains.

I live with my Ntate, Matlere Thamae, who is an artist and architect for a local NGO. He showed me some of his drawings and pictures, and even gave me a painting of his to put up on my wall. He speaks English very well, and apart from Sesotho knows isiXhosa, Zulu, and Swahili (isiXhosa and Zulu are spoken around and near Lesotho, and he lived for three years in Tanzania).

I will get my groceries and use the internet about an hour's walk away in the town of Ha Sekake (so I will hopefully maintain a better posting schedule than I have during training), and will sometimes take a taxi to Qachas Nek camptown, the district capital.

A word on pronunciation: I didn't want to tell you all earlier and intimidate you, but the letter Q is pronounced with a click in Sesotho. You'll get it. Practice in front of a mirror. 

Welcome to the SEC

Last year, my Mom and Dad, along with his college roommate Bill and Bill's wife Rhona, went on a trip to Yellowstone National Park. Dad and Bill went to college in Arkansas and are ardent Razorbacks fans, and Bill and Rhona came with plenty of Hogs apparel. My dad noticed that there were plenty of other tourists were representing their SEC schools, and that this was a common bonding point for those southerners up in the cold wild North.

Before I left, my Dad and I went to a Rutgers-Arkansas game that, had play finished when we left the stadium, would have been won by the Razorbacks (Hold 'em, Hogs!). I got the chance to appreciate firsthand the SEC camaraderie, sitting in the away section next to a former sportswriter who told Dad and me all about the team and its history in between his shouts of "Welcome to the SEC, baby!" whenever the Razorbacks played well.

And now, here in Lesotho, the SEC is once again well-represented. My fellow trainee and friend Tumisang is a University of Alabama grad and supporter of the Crimson Tide. 'M'e Maqanahelo frequently wears the Crimson Tide shirts he brought for the family and, occasionally, he will ask our LCFs to translate various bits of 'Bama related slang ("Ke eng 'Roll Tide' ka Sesotho?" or "Ke eng '15 championships' ka Sesotho?"). No matter where I go, I can't escape the SEC.

Straight from the cow's mouth

The other day, our LCF (Language and Culture Facilitator) 'M'e Mabatloung pulled aside my fellow trainee Tumisang, who lives in the extended Kose family, and asked what happened to his pants.

"They look," she explained, "as if they have been inside of a cow's mouth."

He told me this on our walk back up to the Kose houses, and when we got back his 'M'e, 'M'e Maqanahelo, looked at us accusingly. "Tumisang! Bokang! I have talked with 'M'e Mabatloung. She tells me you need to iron your clothes or you will look like a careless man!"

So it seems that wherever I go, I cannot escape the cosmic necessity that clothes be pressed and neat, and that I will have to iron my clothes or else be thought of as a careless man. My mother is, once again, right.

On a tangent, I had never before heard, and really appreciated, the phrase "careless man," but it seems to be a common one here among the English-speaking Basotho. It has the feel of a phrase that Anton Chigurh from No Country For Old Men might use:

Chigurh entered the store.
Can I help you? asked the clerk.
Yes.
What would you like?
I am not here to buy anything.
Well what can I help you with?
I have come to find if you are a careless man.
I'm afraid I don't understand.
It's a simple question. Are you a careless man?

An apology and learning English

Readers, I owe you an apology. You likely know what I'm talking about if you've read my earlier posts, but let me be explicit. My blog post titled "Lumela, metsoalle" contains a GLARING ERROR. Metsoalle is very clearly the plural form of friends, yet I somehow thought it appropriate to use the singular form of the word lumela. The correct phrase would be: Lumelang, Metsoalle. I'm sorry.

But it's a been a great while since I last posted, and you are no doubt wondering what I am up to other than embarrassing my family, friends, and the United States of America with my baby talk Sesotho.

Well, it so happens that not only do I not know Sesotho very well, I also am not all that good at English. I discovered this on our visit to one of Lesotho's flagship private schools a few weeks ago. I briefly sat in on a Standard 6 (standard = grade) English lesson and found myself sitting in the back of the class, trying to figure out what was going on. The day's lesson was on occupations. On the board was written:

• Caddie: a golfer's helper
• Fishmonger: one who sells fish
• Fruiterer: one who sells fruit
• Milliner: maker and seller of woman's hats

I was familiar with the first three, had never heard of the fourth, and was hunched over my notebook, praying that I would not be asked to define for the class the word "stevedore." I imagined the teacher calling on me: "Yes, our visitor, perhaps you can tell us what this one means." I would shake my head, and the teacher would, incredulously, ask: "A stevedore? You know, one who loads and unloads ships? Where did you say you got your English degree again?"

All things considered, it was a nice reminder that while I am here to teach English and learn Sesotho, we all have a bit more we can learn.