The Good, The Bad, The Weird

Good: My principal and I have agreed on what we hope will become my secondary project as a PCV. It's a lofty goal but we're optimistic. With the help of some students and probably some other PCVs, I'll be writing a series of study guides for maths/science courses. We will distribute them to our students, and what's better, we aim to publish them professionally, and sell them around Lesotho. The money will be reinvested in our school, which, since it's still brand new, has all kinds of worthwhile uses for it. Today we took the first steps to begin the project, by soliciting students who want to join the team. Response was positive.

Bad: Yesterday, some of our primary school students attempted to rape one of our secondary students. Somehow school staff caught them, and fortunately the girl is okay. The punishment for the guilty students? We call their parents... that's it. I'm definitely not in Pikesville anymore.

Weird: I've been trying to teach Selabalo, the adorable 4 year old chatterbox across the street from me, basic greetings in Sekhooa (English). Now when I say "How are you?" she knows to reply "I am fine." Lately I've been struggling to get her to ask me how I am back. It's turned into a sort of Abbott and Costello routine, where every time I explain that she should say "I am fine, how are you?" she hears the "how are you?" part, and just shouts "I am fine!" and laughs. It's a lot of fun for us both. So, I was at Selabalo's house the other day, chatting with her mom, as she sat on the kitchen table echoing various English words she picked up as we spoke, and also shouting various terms she's overheard elsewhere (once she randomly screamed "conference center!"). As I said goodbye to them both, and as I was about to pull the door closed behind me, Selabalo looks at me and yells "They slept together!" and grins innocently.

You are my magrabilitationalizm!

Here's the contents of a composition written by one of my Form A students in her English class. I was bored one day and started reading some of these essays, and really loved this one. Besides typing it, I haven't changed anything.

Note: This received a 66%, one of the top in the class.
Also note: I have no clue what magrabilitationalizm is, except that I've since asked the girl, and she says she read it in the dictionary, and it means love.

A day I will never forget in my life

A day I will never for get is this, when I come to school on food I found that its too late so I see a van coming on the rode my heard becomes as white as an angles' kiss , so when this van is near to me I ask a lift to that men so he said: 'Get in my child , I was so terrified of this men because his face was not happy ,  his eyes was red and I think that he is a criminal person

When the van is near to the board which is written stop , I ask him to stay there so his face changes and shouted at me , I was so terrified I was asking GOT TO HELP ME , I was taking a big stone in my school bag and that man was driving this van so fast and he looks so very dangerous when I take that stone and he did no see me when he was doing this nonsense. I broke that window with that stone and jump out of that van I was so happy . My words were this to got  : "GOT I LOVE you, you are my magrabilitationalizm who I am proud by him and who I trust him Thank you for taking me out of this van

I was disgusted about that men that he is a bad behaviour men he was going to kill me and I was disgusted him so fastly because he become agumentative when I ask him to get out and thinks that he is an informer because he talks too much .

I found myself wondering because I was late to school . I found my teachers in the office roon and I was going appologise because I was late . I was telling them what is has happen . They were happy to me because I pass English club by Top 10 Sesotho by 6 stars   I was so happy

so when we arrive home I tolt my parents that has has happen when I comes to school and when I am at school . And my father make sure that he pay bus fare for me every day They were happy when I tell them that I have pass my exam

Damn.

What an intense, weird day.

It was just my second day back to real teaching, after Phase 3, vacation, and 1.5 weeks of exams. I woke up extra early this morning to plan my maths lesson, since I had a double period with my Form A's (all 117 of them) to start the school day. I had two cups of coffee. Little did I know, I would do little actual teaching today.

I wore my Orioles hat to school. I've never worn a hat to school before, but my principal did the other day, so I realized it's okay. At morning assembly kids stared at me like I died my hair pink... I guess I should be used to this level of fascination by now. I decided I'd use the opportunity to tell Form A all about the Orioles and how "awesome" they are (I would conveniently omit that they're currently an MLB worst 2-13). But, instead I spent 20 minutes ushering the kids to get into their @&#!ing seats and get out their books. I had gotten as far as writing "Baltimore" on the board, when I lost my patience and told them I'm scrapping the story. I yelled for a while, I might have said @&#!, and they eventually behaved. After 20 minutes of decent behavior, they began to act horribly again. I calmly walked out of the classroom, refusing to allow myself to get too irritated. It's only the second time I've ever walked out, and it freaked them out.

Five minutes later, a few ambassadors found me outside, apologized, and begged me to come back. After some thought, I gave in. I then instructed them, "Raise your hand if you want to learn, get up and leave the room if you don't." I told them I would not try to teach them if they didn't want to learn. Every hand went up, and I resumed teaching. After what was already a really eventful morning, I thought I was finally in the clear, but I couldn't possibly have predicted what was about to happen.

I had a very functional class for about five minutes. It was great. I felt like I got the point across (indeed, maybe I did). I was writing something on the board about angles and degrees, when in the back of the class, someone screamed very loudly. My eyes rolled, thinking there must be a rat. But the tortured screaming didn't stop. I turned around and saw students crowding together as panic spread through the room. I pushed my way to the center to find a young girl, Mabatho, screaming and convulsing. Students were laying her down on a bench. Slowly she stopped screaming, but the seizure continued as her eyes welled with tears. Some students removed her shoes and held her feet, some students were stretching her arms out, one boy was trying to rapidly wobble her head around. Most were just standing on desks trying to see what was happening. It was complete chaos. I yelled at a student to go get the other teachers, I tried to back people off. I tried to get Tsepang to stop moving her head all over the place. I put my hand on her side, gently but firmly, trying to gauge how severly she was shaking, and, maybe, to comfort her. As she began to move a bit less, I told her she was OK and to try to relax. Soon, every teacher was there, and the entire student body was trying to get a good view. Most of us teachers went into crowd control. Gradually the chaos died down, and we carried Mabatho to another room with a mattress.

She lay there, keeping herself remarkably composed, and speaking very little, for about an hour. I spoke with the PC doctor, who instructed us to bring her to the local hospital. An hour and a half later, three of us did. Over the course of a few hours there (skipping my science class, by the way), I learned that she also had 3 seizures last week, and that she has a family history of epilepsy. Sure enough, she was diagnosed as epileptic and was prescribed anti-convulsive medication. Clearly, this was an absolutely awful week and a half for her (especially considering that through it all, her mother, the only parent at home, has been in South Africa, probably completely in the dark about this). Let's hope the drugs work.

After the dust settled and we drove her to her house, I returned to school in time for a soccer game with about 20 students, plus a few teachers and other locals. In another completely out-of-the-ordinary twist, I actually played the whole game (albeit 75% as goalie). Who knew I play soccer, and against Africans no less? It was a perfect way to clear my mind after everything else. I reached home shortly before dark, buried myself in a tub of peanut butter (note - thanks Lof for sending me gourmet PB, it's excellent, though probably cost you a fortune to ship), and, in one final deviation from the norm, I ate a kiwi.

Palesa

When I was at Phase 3 training a few weeks ago, we had a session where we each had a chance to talk about our best day and our worst day at our sites so far. I couldn't pick out a specific day that I'd call best or worst, so I didn't participate. There's been one ongoing saga that has stood out as by far the most depressing thing I've encountered, but since it didn't fit neatly into a 24 hour package, I didn't talk about it.

But I get to blabber all I want about it here, and today is definitely the day. This saga started on a Monday morning about 1.5 months ago. Following our morning assembly, our Vice Principal made an announcement. Students who did not have cleanly shaved heads (school policy is to have a shaved head, males and females) were to go home immediately and shave. They could come back when they're clean. Also, students who hadn't paid school fees yet are being kicked out until they pay. Evidently there were some families who were promising to pay, but ran out of slack.

I went to teach my classes and found about 60% of my class missing. I wasn't sure who went to shave, and who was being kicked out over money. I cancelled class, and we spent the day goofing around and playing one of the all-time great math games, 24. This was actually fun, but one thing stuck out - my best student, Palesa, was missing.

Palesa is probably 16 years old. She's extremely well mannered, and raises her hand every time I ask a question. She's almost always right, but what's even better, sometimes she's wrong, and it doesn't bother her. She's the class prefect (kind of like, the captain of the class), and she destroys the curve on every quiz and test we've ever had (On my first maths test, way back when, 81/85 kids got below a 50, with most in the 20-30 range. There were 3 others who got below 56. Palesa got an 85). Once she asked if she could start teaching me Sesotho, though this hasn't come to pass.

When I didn't see her, at first I hoped she was gone to shave her head. But then she wasn't back the next day. Or the next week. Or the week after that. I realized what was going on, and it hit me pretty hard. It is devastating at times to invest so much energy teaching these kids, and to have them average 25% on a test. To have them refuse to do homework, to cheat relentlessly, to have absolutely no regard for their futures. But for the first few months, at least there was this one massive bright spot, someone who listened eagerly when I talked, who enjoyed learning, and who clearly had all the talent in the world. And then she was gone because there was no one to pay her $200 annual school fee. I don't think she has any clue, but I missed her terribly.

So like the resourceful Peace Corps Volunteer I am trying to be, I began working to get her back. I found out about a scholarship I can apply for on her behalf, though it would take months to actually get that money. I convinced my principal to allow her back anyway, and that we'd get the money after the fact. I asked her best friend, another student named Thandiwe, to call her back to school. But Thandiwe reported back the next day that Palesa is gone to Maseru to make money, but she didn't know where exactly. I'm still not entirely sure what this means, but it sounds horrible. Some more time went by trying to get things straightened out.

Finally, just this Monday, I arranged to have Thandiwe and another teacher come with me to Palesa's grandmother's house. I planned to ask her grandmother where in Maseru I could go, and I'd make a trip out of it this coming weekend. Well, we were in luck. Turns out Palesa had just called it quits working in Maseru a few days prior, and was now sitting around her grandmother's house doing nothing. We found her! I told her the deal, I told her to come back to school and we'd sort everything out. She was SO happy. She began to cry. I don't know how to describe what a great moment it was. Her grandmother thanked us profusely in Sesotho, I just kept hearing the words "Ke thabile," meaning "I am happy."

It was, without a doubt, the best day I've had as a volunteer.

This week is not a normal school week - we are having quarterly cumulative exams in all classes. We found Palesa the day before I was giving my maths exam. She was really excited to come in and take the test the next day, which concerned me. I knew she was really eager to get back into the swing of things, but she had missed the last month of class. I urged her to take a few days to read over notes she missed, and take the test next week. But she insisted. She had the audacity to promise to get above a 90. This surprised me, she's normally much more soft-spoken than this, but it won me over, and I gave in. Turns out, once again, 4 people passed the exam (115 students total). She got a 91, 20 points better than anyone else. I get to tell her the good news tomorrow.

Help poor Basotho youth in desperate need of frisbees!

I've mentioned before that I have been teaching students at my school how to play frisbee. It is growing increasingly popular, with a few new faces venturing to try it out each day we play. My principal has gone on record calling it a fantastic activity. I suspect we are not far from starting an actual Frisbee Club.  Pretty exciting.

Clubs and sports are sorely lacking from my students lives, and frisbee represents a great avenue to address this issue. It also addresses one of Peace Corps' three fundamental goals, that of spreading awareness of American culture. And, in the interest of full disclosure, it's exceedingly fun.

The problem is, I only have one Frisbee. It's a few years old, and after recently sustaining some critical injuries, it's now on life support. In other words, it has multiple cracks and won't last much longer. Real frisbees do not exist in Lesotho, and from what I can tell, they're not in SA either.

So, this is a plea for someone to help me out by buying 2 or 3 DISCCRAFT brand Frisbees, and mailing them to me. I will gladly pay you back for the discs and for shipping. If you are interested in helping, please, email me!

In closing, I refer you to this compelling argument from Helen Lovejoy. Kea leboha!

Sharp How's It! (Shop-Hoo-Zayd!)

That's South African/Sesotho for "I'm good how are you." Note, it's perfectly appropriate to say even when no one asked you how you are.

Hello again, it's been a while I know. Today was my first day back at school after 2.5 weeks away from site. I spent most of that in Maseru, at the training center with the rest of my ED '10 buddies, getting in some final training. This was a good time, packed with plenty of useful information and tons of reconnecting and story telling. It was a much needed time to decompress after 3 pretty heavy months of service.

One highlight, at the end of training, was meeting with a committee that I joined called PAC, which oversees Peace Corps' role in the Lesotho education system. We meet every 6 months to discuss ways to improve the entire program, and we tackled some pretty worthwhile stuff. I had been gunning to get on this committee since I first heard of it months ago, excited by the chance to represent my peers and optimize our program on their behalf. Indeed, it was really nice, and I'm now looking forward to implementing the changes we discussed.

Anyway, if you're still awake, now for the really fun stuff. I just spent the Easter holiday on the South Coast of South Africa, and to call it a great trip would be a massive understatement. We stayed at an incredible hostel called Mantis and Moon (hey awesome, free plug, 15 whole people on the other side of Earth read this every single day). It's literally carved out of the jungle, and it has everything you'd ever want. Great bar, great food, amazing staff, monkeys, a barbecue, fooz ball. It's a 5 minute walk to the Indian Ocean (which, by the way, is beautifully blue, with monster waves that somehow did not kill me), and the hostel staff provide daily trips to all kinds of adventurous excursions.

Since we only had 3 full days there, we could take one such excursion. Some of the gang opted for white water rafting, but most of us, myself included, went on a 3 hour jungle hike to a really beautiful waterfall. Following the hike, I jumped off a cliff into a gorge, on what is the largest swing on Earth (watch someone else do it!). This jump is really incredible. The adrenaline rush leading to it, heightened by a bunch of friends screaming at me, was an experience in itself. I swan dove off the edge, and proceeded to fall through the air for three seconds (longer than it sounds) before swinging around at the bottom. At the bottom, things are suddenly very quiet. All you see is treetops below you, and all you hear is birds chirping, and a waterfall not too far in the distance. The rapid contrast between the rush at the top and the serenity at the bottom was absolutely striking, a sensation I hope I never forget.

That was certainly the most noteworthy point of the trip, but far from the only highlight. We met some amazing people, some of whom put our own travel experiences to shame (namely a 32 year old Brit who has been to every country in Africa but Lesotho and Angola). The beach was beautiful and the weather was mostly perfect. There was free snorkeling a 30 minute walk down the beach, where we found gorgeous coral and schools of happy fishes. I slept outside in a hammock, and I'm pretty sure I didn't get malaria.

And if you didn't think I'd devote a whole paragraph to the food, you've never met me. In short, it was great. Sadly we didn't get a chance for anything gourmet, but there is quality meat everywhere. Every gas station, and just about everywhere else too, sells all kinds of meat pies - single serving pastries full of curries, or chicken/mushroom, or something else delicious. Great Indian food abounds (did you know, South Africa has the largest Indian population outside of India), including a local adaptation called bunny chow, basically a bread bowl of meat and vegetable curry. But wait, there's more. On our first morning at the hostel we were lounging around the kitchen, finishing up breakfast in particularly sluggish fashion. A beefy, gruff, 50ish shirtless chain smoking Afrikaaner who we had befriended earlier walked up to our table. WIth very little conversation, he abruptly slammed down two massive steaks and two racks of pork ribs. I'm paraphrasing here, but he basically said to us, "This is the best meat you will ever eat, I challenge you to tell me otherwise. I have to leave, I'll be back in a few days. There's a barbecue next to the bar, they'll let you use it." He didn't realize that 5/12 people in our group are vegetarians, but I certainly didn't mention it. We slowly processed what just happened, and grew giddy. My friend Ryan and I grilled up the meat that night, and we had a grand feast. All 5 vegetarians even gave in and ate what was, indeed, among the best meat we've ever had.

By the way, I know you all are getting itchy to see some pictures, and I'm getting just as itchy to post them. I'm having some technical difficulties in that department, so please bear with me, I am hoping to get that straightened out in the near future.

With that said, my computer battery is about to die, so I'll end it here. One other quick note - my principal invited me today to give a presentation to my school about alternative forms of discipline. My suggestions were received well, and at the end, my principal announced that he loves the idea of detention, and is making it a system-wide procedure. Now all teachers will assign and hold detention, which is a massive victory for me. It's a great step in demonstrating that child abuse is not the only way to instill discipline. We're also making a push towards positive reinforcement in addition to punishment, in an effort to help kids realize that they aren't worthless (I discussed this earlier here).

Boroko bo monate!