Per The Request Of My Abuti

Dear Mike,

Heyyyyyy brother. Did you even know you were my abuti? Well, abuti means older brother, so you are. This post is for you.

Love,
Your baby brother (there's no word for that)

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Alright so, here's why this entry is for Mike. Shortly after my last post, we had a conversation on the phone. In discussing all the random stories I had just written about, he suggested that I keep a better record of the weird-and-random-yet-revealing stories that I live each day. He loves the weirdness, and I love the weirdness. I told him I'd try. And so, the following Monday at school, when that day's weirdness unfolded, I whipped out some scratch paper and wrote it down. Then I added to it Tuesday. And Wednesday. And almost every day since.

Now, there is one other element to this story that makes me happy. The night before I left Baltimore to join Peace Corps, we went out for a celebratory dinner. It was Mike, my future sister-in-law Becca, my mom, and I (it was a combination Eric's birthday/Eric's moving to Africa for 2 years tomorrow/Mike and Becca just got engaged dinner, so suffice it to say, we went all out, it was outstanding, and I've eaten nothing nearly as good since that night.) At dinner, Mike and Becca gave me a really great journal to take to Africa (black with gold-trimmed pages and a sewn-in bookmark, the whole 9 yards).

I was excited about it, but regrettably, I haven't used it all that much. I never really kept a journal at home, and I already keep up this blog here in Lesotho, so I just haven't quite pulled it together to write as much as they and I hoped. But... now I have the perfect use for it. So, thanks Mike for providing me with the inspiration to keep what will henceforth be called the Annals Of Weirdness (AOW), and thanks Mike and Becca for the means to do so in a highly tasteful way. Here's to hoping the weird never stops.

Below are the first few entries from the AOW. Looking over them, I'm surprised by what a good picture they paint of what much of my life here is like.

Disclaimer: The AOW is an expression of what is weird based solely on my own standards. Or, more accurately, what I remember my standards to have been before coming here. It is therefore highly subjective. If anyone reading excerpts from the AOW finds these things to be un-weird, you are invited to yell about it in the comments section.

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Monday, 20 Sept 2010
- Tsemase [a student] being punished with squats. Refuses due to leg injury. Alternative (my suggestion) is rolling around on dusty floor. Refuses that too, instead choosing 5 lashes with PVC pipe on the ass. After it's over I am cringing, and I ask if that was better than rolling on floor. He says yes.

Tuesday, 21 Sept 2010
- A major breakthrough - we begin scheduling meetings in advance, to hold them during break to reduce cancellation of class [I've been suggesting to my principal that we try not to cancel class for impromptu meetings quite so often]. But the meeting is to arrange a film show to raise funds, and in the end we cancel 3 classes for the film show. 1 step forward, 2 steps back...

Wednesday, 22 Sept 2010
- Decision to arrange "Fun Day" this coming Friday to raise funds. Students can wear "funny clothes" to school, but they must pay R1.00. Alternatively, they can choose to wear their uniform as usual, but they must pay... R1. If a student simply can't afford it, their best recourse is to skip school.
- The village drunk aggressively stops me as I'm walking at dusk, to introduce me to Bokang, the local shop owner, who is one of my closest friends in the village. He says that Bokang is his best friend, except that he can't even tell me Bokang's name.

Thursday, 23 Sept 2010
- At 6:45am, I'm walking to school with a student and the same village drunk screams to me from far away, "I am from Switzerland!!" I tell the student that this is why you shouldn't drink alcohol.

Friday, 24 Sept 2010
- "Fun Day" is a Halloween day basically. There are cross-dressers, wigs, bizarre masks. But about 25-30% of students seem to have skipped school. Principal gets up at assembly and makes a powerful speech about time running out before exams, but is wearing a plastic clown mask the whole time. After assembly we are all so entertained that no one bothers to have classes.

Monday, 27 Sept 2010
- Going on a run down the road, nearing the end and feeling tired. A group of barefoot orphan girls between Standard 1 and Standard 5 [1st-5th grade] start jumping up and down as they see me approaching (I've met 1 of them before). As I pass they start running with me. I try to run fast uphill, just to see if I can outlast them. I cannot. They are grinning and laughing the entire time (about 3 minutes).


Tuesday, 28 Sept 2010
- One of my favorite students, Palesa, is about to write an English test that I'm helping to invigilate [ie catch cheaters], but she has her head on the desk and she is crying. I take her outside to talk and she tells me she has such horrible pain in the bones of both arms that she cannot hold a pencil. She says it has happened in the past. I suggest that she goes to the doctor, but she says her mother does not have the R15 [$2] to pay. I tell her I'm sorry, and to go to get some medicine. I'm pretty certain I'll give her R15 tomorrow. 
- Went running, same route and time as yesterday. Instead of 3 girls following me like yesterday, it is now 6. They are really impressive, and though it's a bit embarrassing running past my students with 6 small girls following, they are adorable and it's kinda fun. They run all the way to my house and I invite them inside for a glass of water.

Back to "ordinary" PC life

In the interest of moving forward following all that happened 2 weeks ago, I will bump that last post one notch farther down. To replace it, here are a couple of highly random events that I witnessed/took part in this week. I've said this before, but once again, such things almost become ordinary events precisely because of how far out of the ordinary they are. I know I forget many would-be great stories for this blog, because I sometimes fail to recognize even as noteworthy what only a few months ago seemed so remarkable. Things just seem to go that way - random is the norm. At least I remembered a few here.

1. Wednesday - My boss tells me he'd like to petition the local construction company to help out with some small projects at our school (nice idea).  He claims they'll do it for free out of moral obligation. He asks me if I could come with him to their offices. He explains that my being white will give us an advantage, will get us more credibility and people will take our requests seriously. I feel terrible hearing this, though really it sounds farfetched. I go anyway. I plan to convey strength - I will stand, arms folded and flexing, as my boss lists our demands. But when we meet with the higher-ups at the office - some white South Africans - my boss immediately defers to me to speak. I hardly even know what we are asking for, but nevertheless I clumsily attempt to ask for vague construction jobs to be done for free. I wait for my boss to bail me out, but he goes silent. The Afrikaaners look right through him, only acknowledging me. They couldn't care less about my boss, despite him being older and more knowledgable on the subject. I feel awkward being something like the beneficiary of such blatant racism, but, its all for my school, so I go along.

In any case, the relevant decision maker was not there so we were told to come back the next morning, which leads to...

2. Thursday - The short story is, I kidnap a girl while sporting a goatee. But if you're curious here's the more complete version. My boss says he'll pick me up at 6am to go back to the construction company. By 6:30, I haven't heard from him, so I decide I better just start getting ready for school (this is a mistake, I should have learned Africa Time by now). I start to shave. My left cheek is half shaven when my boss calls - he's outside waiting. I sculpt the fastest thing I can that leaves me looking non-crazy, which happens to be this truly hideous goatee. We have some luck at the construction company, with the result of a representative coming with us to see the school. So now I am headed to school with my ugly facial art.

We do our business at school, then drive to drop the representative back off. On the way, a young primary school girl is very late walking to her own school (which is about 2.5 miles away). My boss points this out and I convince him to give her a ride, since we'll be passing her school (this is pretty common practice). We're driving a converted flatbed truck with a front cabin that's more or less sound-proofed from the rear. The girl sits down in the rear. We then forget about her. We pass her school, pass that village, and reach the construction office. Only when we're all getting out of the car, the girl knocks on the window and yells, "Sir!" We all look at one another in shock - she is now nowhere near her school. But my boss wants to carry on, and have one more meeting before we go. So the girl just sits locked in the back of the truck. Remember, I still have a goatee. When we finally get going, my boss lectures the young girl for not alerting us when we passed her school the first time. This all comes to a merciful end as she gets out, and I head home to shave more completely before finally going to teach at 11am.

3. [WARNING - GROSS AND SADISTIC] Friday - A cow is being slaughtered to prepare for a funeral tomorrow (Quick tangent - 3 weeks ago a girl from our primary school was hit by a car - horrible story. From a selfish standpoint, I feel fortunate in that I didn't know her, but it's still really tragic). We're at the family's home saying some prayers, and that's where the cow is being killed. It falls down after being jabbed in the base of the neck. As it lays dying, it's tail is chopped off. Men then pick up the tail... to use it as a whip, to beat the dying cow. I feel sad for the girl's death, and now sad for the cow. Then I ponder whether a cow (any cow, let alone a dying cow) can perceive the irony of being beat with it's own severed tail. I sigh, and watch the men skin the cow for a few minutes. Finally, I head home.

In Memory of Tom Maresco

By now many of you have heard of the tragic events which occurred here the night of Friday, September 3rd. Tom Maresco, a fellow Peace Corps Volunteer here in Lesotho, was shot and killed in an apparent robbery attempt, one block from our training center in the capital city, Maseru.

At this time we have been asked not to discuss details of the case, as the investigation is ongoing. But you can read Peace Corps' press release here, and you can find other related stories via Google. But, while I can't get into specifics of what transpired on Friday night, I can try to shed some light on what an outstanding person Tom was.

Tom and I came into Lesotho together 10 months ago - he was one of the 29 members of the "ED10" class of PCVs, as we're called. On the night we met in Philadelphia, he rallied as many of us as possible to stay out late into the night, enjoying our last taste of quality beer. And so it was immediately obvious that Tom was a natural leader, with the charisma to become the focal point of any social situation (this was only proven truer over time). Quick tangent: the bar had darts, and as I bragged about my darts prowess and convinced everyone to come play, Tom beat me with ease and with a laugh.

But while my new friends and I recognized his charm and energy from the get-go, it was not until later that we came to learn what a truly impressive guy Tom was. As it turned out, he was exceedingly bright. He was a great cook (we never got the chance to compete in the Iron Chef match we talked about, but had it happened, I'd have put my money on him). His ingenuity was unmatched, which I learned as he used the random junk around the training center to build a makeshift obstacle course, kiddie pool, slip and slide, fire pit, and more. He was an outstanding guitarist, harmonica player, singer, and he was hilarious as a freestyle rapper. One highlight from back in training is when we sang together as he played one of my favorite songs, La Cienega Just Smiled (Ryan Adams). He was an excellent teacher, and a passionate volunteer, who loved his service and his life as much as anyone.

So, long story short, I'd be lying if I said I never envied Tom. We once had an obstacle course that 8 guys participated in. Out of 8 guys competing, I finished 7th, Tom 8th. I was relieved not to be last; Tom laughed hysterically (sadly I'm pretty sure he wasn't trying).

I've tried, unsuccessfully, to make some sense of why this happened. I think about bullies, who beat up kids who are prettier than them, or who smile too much - internally weak people who are jealous of the better fortune of others, who try to even the slates by bringing someone else down. I wonder, is this the mentality that leads someone to so coldly murder a well-meaning aid worker? Yes, Tom was dealt a sweet hand in life. But one can only admire a man who so fully embraces his innate gifts and runs with them at full speed. Tom was living his dream, and was touching so many lives in the process. Like all of us, he came here to help and to see the world. But unlike most of us, Tom would likely have bought that guy a drink if he only asked nicely.

This last week has been a whirlwind. I learned the news by a phone call from our country director, which woke me up Saturday morning. I spent three days with the rest of the volunteers, leaning heavily on this family we've become, alternately giving and receiving support. We've all spent these days remembering Tom, laughing, crying, and deeply questioning our service here. From here on out I'll be having a pretty quiet weekend with just a few close friends. I've taken the week off school - many in my village suspect that I'll leave Lesotho after this. But I will stay.

I have also heard Basotho express shame in response to Tom's death. To any Basotho who might read this, please do not feel ashamed, guilt by association does not apply here. To my friends and family, please do not be scared for me. As difficult as it is to say right now, I still love this country, despite its flaws. The actions of one Mosotho man will not change that. Know that I have no intention of traveling at night in the area where this occurred, or really anywhere at all. I feel extremely safe in my village, where I know so many of the people, and where so many look out for me. Most volunteers will say the same.

Most importantly, to friends and family of Tom, I am so sorry for this indescribable loss. I can only say that Tom will live on in our minds. I feel confident speaking for the rest of PC Lesotho when I say that his memory will inspire the rest of our service.

Thank you all for your love and support during this wretched time. We will come through it.