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.