By Popular Demand - More Photos of life in Lesotho

Patty holds a pair of shoes left by a child at the Centre one day (and then reclaimed the next). A lot of playing and general walking is done in bare feet - mostly by necessity rather than choice.

Local girls running to the water tap - with bucket in anticipation of some water for a change.

Raphoka Primary School boys traditional Basutho dance group - in full flight on "Youth Against HIV/AIDS" Day at Pitseng Youth Centre (December 6, 2008)

Patty at "Storytime" in the "lapa" (Rondoval) at the Youth Centre

The view from our front porch - Raphoka Primary School and the Maloti Mountains

A friendly , local troubadour serenading us on our 7:00 a.m. walk in the hills.

Christmas in Umhlanga Rocks (does it ever!)

We are spending Christmas and New Year's at Umhlanga Rocks just up the Indian ocean coast from Durban. Yesterday, I celebrated Christmas with a warm and refreshing dip in the pounding surf of the Indian ocean. The beaches here are spectacular if not a bit crowded - especially so in the designated "swimming areas" which are not only protected by lifeguards but, more importantly, shark nets. Given that they caught a 850kg Great White off these waters last year, I guess a little caution is in order.


As much as we love Lesotho, it is certainly nice to be "out of town" for a while and hard to imagine a more stark contrast in Africa than this. On Sunday, when we left Pitseng, our village truly and finally seemed to have run out of water. We watched women (always women!) lining up at several community taps filling their their dirty old jerry can water containers as the water literally drip, drip, dripped out of the taps. Not only would it take an hour to fill the containers this way but the water has developed, shall we say, a rather earthy hue and texture which, I suspect, we alone notice under the circumstances. To add to our own liquidity crisis, we cannot buy bottled water in the local commercial centre, the highly-inappropriately named "London" aka Pitseng Centre. As a result, we have to buy water in Hlotse - 2 hours back and forth up the road on the ever-colourful and crowded mini-bus taxis.

I initially thought the lack of electricity in the village would be our major problem but have quickly learned that this pales in comparison to being without dependable drinking water. A large portion of Lesotho's fresh water seems to be dammed up high in the Maloti mountains and then piped into South Africa through one of these proverbial "great feats of global engineering" water diversion projects. Clearly, the country could use this water but most locals believe that the country can better use the billions of South African rands that it receives for the water every year - accounting for a whopping 25% of total government revenues. (Does anyone hear the disturbing rumblings of a possible parallel story in Canada's future viz our neighbours to the south?) I dare say taxing beer might be a good fiscal solution as well. Foreigners and tourists, at least, would not notice an increase in the astounding $1.00 per bottle price of cold Heineken in Hloste's best hotel bar. I suspect this tax grab may not be as popular with the locals - but, to paraphrase Marie Antoinette, "Let them drink Scotch!" In a selfless gesture, I will undertake to draft such a policy for the local authorities - to take effect in February 2009 which would be, coincidentally, just after our departure.

We've decided to follow the water-flow tradition ourselves and whisked ourselves off to South Africa. A few days after watching the dripping taps and cranking open another can of something for a "pasta again!" dinner, we found ourselves enjoying sushi and cold beer in a gargantuan 300-store mall complex on the way to see a movie at the mall's 16 theatre cinema. A tropical Christmas and New Year's will certainly be a change for us - especially given the weather in Victoria which we gather has taken an uncharacteristic frosty turn.

As we reflect at Christmas on all that we have and should be thankful for, please think of those that have less than a little - indeed, nothing - in places like Lesotho. We have been supporters of Help Lesotho for four years now and our experience on the ground has certainly demonstrated that a few dollars can go a long, long way to make a real difference in lives here - whether they be those of the many orphans struggling without parents to support and guide them or the heroic grandmothers who pick up the burden of care when the parents die. I know that at home everyone is pre-occupied with recession, fiscal crises, economic meltdowns, the need for a new Bretton Woods etc. etc.. While I would not argue against the merits of these concerns, I see a situation in Lesotho that is so desperate that these issues are pushed so far from the radar screen as to be irrelevant. While you are all in the gift-giving spirit, please consider this - less than $50.00 a month (the price of four movie tickets - even without popcorn!) will keep a child in school and off the streets; half of this amount will help a grandmother supporting orphans (as in the grandmother with 4 orphans below). I invite you to check out Help Lesotho's website for more details on how you can make a donation at: http://www.helplesotho.ca/.

With our best wishes for a happy, healthy New year

Life is Short Brutish and Nasty

Life that is Short, Brutish and Nasty - so said Hobbes?, the Bard ? or some other frequently quoted notable - a phrase that is, sadly, very relevenat to life in 21st century Lesotho.

It has been a tough week in Pitseng that certainly bears reflection as we get ready to celebrate Christmas. Last Friday, one of the workers at Sister Celestine’s bakery was robbed and murdered during a roadside run-in with thugs on a country road about 10km from here. He was carrying a load of bread and about 1500 Rand ($180.00). We were heard this news from the local Catholic priest (and one of my French students) as we walked to the bakery on Monday morning. We were met by the eerie spectacle of two nuns scrubbing the back of the truck to remove the bloodstains. As tragic the circumstance – strangely, the mood was a bit somber but very much business as usual. In a country where death is a very frequent visitor and the national life expectancy is low and falling, death is very much part of daily life however it arrives.

The next day we had some very sad news that one of our teenage friends, Mohapo, had been dispatched from her home in Pitseng village to live with her grandmother. Mohapo is part of a very tight threesome of teenage girls we call the “Puzzling Girls” because of their fascination with tireless repetition of the three jigsaw puzzles that we bought for the centre. Mohapo has been a “double orphan” (without mother or father) since she was twelve. She had lived with her aunt and uncle in Pitseng for the past five years trying her best to remake her life and friendships in a new place and circumstance. On one of our classic thunder and lightning storm nights last week, Mohapo apparently forgot to do her job and shelter the family firewood from the storm. This might have been a single occurrence or the “last straw”, we don’t know – in any event, one week before Christmas she was summarily dispatched to live with her grandmother some 80km away in the mountains where she will, I’m sure, try her best to rebuild her life, friendships and school networks once again. Such is the fate and fleeting attachment to love and security endured by thousands of orphans in Lesotho day after day. We will miss Mohapo’s cheery laugh and broad-faced grin very much.

On a brighter note, school has ended for the summer holidays here and the centre is teeming with children and youth, many of whom are attracted to our newly installed volleyball court – our own gift to the youth of Pitseng. On the final day of classes at our neighbouring Raphoka Primary, Patty and I went to the “final assembly” - basically 150 kids crammed into a battered and beaten classroom- and sang them “Jingle Bells”. Being a nation of profoundly talented singers, the children caught onto the catch chorus very quickly – no matter how Patty and tortured this tune in our delivery. Two weeks later, we often here children yelling their greetings over the fields and singing the chorus back to us. Unfortunately, something was definitively lost in the delivery or translation as what we often hear the chorus delivered to us as – “Jungle bells, jungle bells, jungle all the way … “.

With best wishes to all for a merry Christmas and a happy, healthy New Year. May you join us in some of the lessons we’ve learned in our experience in Lesotho – namely, being greatly thankful for what we have and being a whole lot less inclined to complain about what we have not.

A Day in the Life at Pitseng Centre

I thought it might be time to fill you in on a typical day in the life at our mountain post in Pitseng ah Raphoka, Lesotho. Pitseng is actually a collection of small villages ranging over about 20 square kilometres split by mountains and magnificent gorge valleys. Where we are located is in an area called Pitseng ah Raphoka, a rural village with many small farm holdings and, strangely enough, 3 primary schools and a high school.

The typical day begins with Peter, our nightwatchman, rapping his farewell on our window at about 5:00 a.m. On most days, we've already been stirred at sunrise by a symphony of cacaphonious animal calls beginning, stereotypically, with roosters, followed by barking dogs and then by the pathetic braying of several local donkeys (what kind of mean trick was the creator playing on these poor animals when he gave them their voice). On the odd day when the local tap is running, we also hear wheelbarrows hauling water buckets up our lane starting about 6:00 a.m. The sun rises hot in Lesotho and the sweltering outlines of the day is already in place by 8:00 a.m. We recharge our water supplies from the two 2500 litre rain barrels at the house which, at least once a week have been filled to overflowing during the night by a bombardment of rain in the wake of one of the fantastic thunder and lightning storms that we've been treated to here. (Although, it must here be noted, that Lesotho has one of the highest death by lightning rates in the world). I try and get out every morning by 7:00 for a walk to take in the magnificent scenery. The mountains here remind me of the approach to the Rockies outside of Canmore, Alberta except that we enjoy a ring of mountains rather than a wall . Getting out of the centre involves a lot of unlocking of security grates, doors, fence gates until we are "free". Often our walk will take us to the Sisters of Charity of Ottawa bakery - a trailer beside the local convent - where we can buy a fresh loaf of Sister Celestina's bread and maybe some cupcakes if on offer. This is also a place where we can charge our phone, iPOD and other sundry electrical devices.

Not long after our return, children begin appearing at the gate, calling out for Patty, tennis balls, footballs and puzzles. These scruffy characters are among the most endearing people I have seen. Such joy in their smiles and laughs and amazement in their eyes contrast sharply with such poverty in their health and clothing. It is a sad but true that Patty and I are beginning to remember several of these children by their clothes - a feature that never changes day after day except, perhaps, by getting progressively dirtier. Things that we take for granted in Canada are fantastically popular in the Centre. We have bought 3 jig saw puzzles - each of which must have been completed at least a hundred times by now often by groups of children. A deck of cards can hold children fascinated for a long time. For two avid readers, we find ourselves blessed with a well-stocked 400 book library whose unusual collection features many African and Canadian titles alongside unusual treats like a biography of the Grateful Dead. I feel we are are the terminus of the international book recycling chain. We get several Lesotho and South African papers in every week which I comb through in bewilderment trying to sort through the complex state of affairs in South African politics or football both of which feature equal coverage.

Each week there is usually some special event going on at the Centre. My favourite is the monthly "Grandmother's Day" when Help Lesotho brings in 50 grandmothers from the villages for a day of socializing, group support and , importantly, food. My heart goes out to these strong and over-burdened women. I met one grandmother in a rural village tending for 5 orphans - some as young as two - not the way they had envisioned their golden years I'm sure. The grandmothers arrive on foot - singing and dancing as the enter the centre's gates. Lots of joyous ulultaing, hand waving and the broadest of smiles - an enchanting and colourful gathering. Patty and I love dancing with the grandmothers and are learning some unusual if not useful dance steps for home. Grandmother's day always features a pappa lunch - the Lesotho staple of cornmeal porridge accompanied by the widest range of chicken parts and shredded cabbage. When lunch is over, a flock of chickens and the odd stray dog enter the compound to perform the clean-up operation. .

Meals are a challenge us. After three weeks in France enjoying groaning cheese trays, we're giving the can opener a better work out than I've experienced for years. Our local tin shack food shops are not well endowed. We went into one the other day that had sum total of 3 onions, two apples and two bottles of cooking oil. For most essentials like bottled water and juice, we have to travel into Hlotse about 25km by rocking taxi-van from our place. We've even taken a necessary shining to instant coffee which I have observed is much improved from the last time I tasted a century ago (or is this just deprivation speaking). Eggs, however, are plentiful and cheap and very fresh - free-range being a necessity rather than a choice on the impoverished farms. Other local favourites include "Simbas" (potato chips), long tube sacks of cheesies and, of course, the staple food - pappa.

While these small local food stores are not doing well, others are, regrettably, flourishing. Lesotho Funeral Services is by far the wealthiest commercial operation we have seen in the country - always too busy and very evident in the community through the sponsorship of local football teams, community events and the like. One would also do well to invest in the barbed wire business in southern Africa which is apparently growing mile after mile.

Night-time falls early as the sun disappears behind the mountains around 7:00 pm. We are enjoying many, many candlelight dinners unencumbered as we are by electricity. We have also become huge fans of our Mountain Equipment LED micro headlamps which allow us to read into the night.

Lesotho Innovation Awards

I was reading the Lesotho "Public Eye" last week - a highly questionable contribution to the world of informed journalsim but news nonetheless. The Lesotho government is sponsoring an Innovation awards competition. Here is what I'm propsoing to submit under the category of "Water Resource Management"

The Pitseng Hot Water Shower

Don't despair if the continuing absence of electricity and running water appears to create an insurmountable obstacle to having a hot shower. Here is a handy and enjoyable "work around" that may serve the purpose - just pursue the following steps.

1. Aquire a 5 litre "bag in a box" container of South African wine - to your taste
2. Empty the contents (NB - This is my favourite step in the procedure and I think one that should stand me in good position to win the award);
3. Fill the empty aluminum foil "bladder" with cold water from the rain cisterns and close tap;
4. Leave the bladder out in the blistering Lesotho mountain sunshine for an afternoon (no shortage of this particular resource);
5. Re-insert bladder into the box;
6. Mount box to the bathroom ceiling;
7. Open wine tap and enjoy a hot shower

It should be noted that this technique has only been tested on Cabernet Sauvignon to date but it is not expected that the results will vary by type or vintage. However, more experimentation on this front is planned by the innovation team at the Pitseng centre.

Respectfully submitted;

Stuart

Lesotho's Third Official Language (and the real one)

Greetings once again from the mountain kingdom where we toil away in
30 degree heat sheltered from any evidence that Christmas is upon us.

The tour books on Lesotho speak about its two official languages -
Sesotho (in which we are, shall we say, struggling) and English (of
which we have a somewhat better command). But after a month here it is
clear to me that there is a third language in Lesotho that is as
importnat as the official languages and that is music.

I have visited a lot of countries that boast strong musical traditions
and cultures. But I've never been anywhere where music is such a
heartbeat in the land. We awake most mornings to a local troubadour
walking the hills playing an accordion. School children sing morning
songs before class and then march into theirs classrooms in song. We
had the good fortune of being invited to a party at our neighbours
place on Saturday to celebrate the graduation of two family members
from college. This was a most impressive and colourful gathering to
honour a worthy achievement with the many, many speeches punctuated by
spontaneous outbreaks of song prompted by one person and soon engaging
everyone. Patty and I have had people sing songs to us in the middle
of private conversation. A wandering minstrel sang us a song the other day, accompanied on a guitar-type object made from a 4 litre oil can and some tennis-racket webbing as strings. The choir at the local Catholic church is so
good that I'm considering converting! Lush, multi-layered harmonies
effortlessly delivered often accompanied by the rather unusual sight
of a nun on a drum between her knees - which always sends the choir
and most of the congregation into a shuffling rumba. And finally, the
taxi buses, which are a kaleidoscopic experience unto themselves,
always serve up full throttle mbaqanga music at just enough decibels
to drown out many disturbing thumps and squeals in the highly suspect
motor train. Sometimes the taxis play vapid American fake-soul pop
which is made tolerable by listening to school girl passengers
layering African harmonies onto the tines as they sing along.

Two prominent musical styles are South African based - mpanqanga or
"township jive" made popular by groups such as Mahlathini and the
Mahotella Queens (who gave an unforgettable performance during
Victoria's 1994 Commonwealth games) and featured on Paul Simon's
"Graceland". To me, this music has a trance luke quality with
descending bass lines and solid drum beats set against the back beat of
accordion melodies - all of which is overridden with a growling chant-
like vocal line. The other style is the beautiful capella style mbube
choral music made famous by Ladysmith Black Mambazo - much more
peaceful to the ear but evidently not as useful as full-blare mbaqanga
in luring customers into market stalls and stores.