Ke 'mme, I am woman

Today Nancy drove me up to the mountains so we could see more views of Lesotho and play in the snow. This may be hard to believe, but it is the dead of winter in the southern hemisphere and it has been snowing for the past few days. On the way up there, Nancy told me stories about when she was in the Peace Corps. She made good friends with a woman named Pascalina (who I interviewed and had dinner with the other day). She told me that when she was pregnant and working hard, washing her clothes in the river, struggling to stay warm, etc. that Pascalina taught her a Basotho saying "ke 'mme". It means I'm woman and implies that I'm a woman, I have to do hard things and I can do hard things. Whenever Basotho women see something is tough or difficult, they ke 'mme and get it done. Even though men are the head of the Basotho household, the Basotho woman is known for her strength of character and determination. So maybe Lesotho is closer to meeting the goal of empowering women than I thought after my interviews at the TRC.

sheer luck

Yesterday I went to the Transformation Resource Center (TRC) in Maseru to do some interviews. The TRC was started during apartheid in 1978 as a haven for South African refugees. The three objectives of the TRC are to establish justice, peace, and participatory development. I interviewed three people (a female journalist, female intern from Uganda, and a male communications officer) about the progress toward the Millennium Development Goals (MDG's). It was by far the most interesting and helpful interview yet. When I walked into their office, all three of them stopped working and gave me their full attention (which didn't happen at most of my interviews). At one point, they brought in bread and tea and after almost two hours of talking I had to stop and let them get back to work. About the interview...they told me how the general public perceived the MDG's-and how the people perceive most things the government decides. They said that most Basotho are wondering if the goals benefit them. The guy I spoke with, Chebe, said that people on the streets are saying "these goals come to us under the guise of an international commitment, but do they serve our best interests? history tells us no, history tells us that international organizations only care for themselves." While I found that comment really interesting, I don't understand how the Basotho could be suspicious of a goal to establish universal primary education or eliminate poverty. But it's true that corrupt gvnmts have been saying good things while doing terrible things behind the people's backs for years, so I understand their concern.

Another really interesting was what the journalist, Polo, said. She said that in order to meet the MDG's, people's attitudes have to be changed. She said that girls are raised to be below the man and a common Basotho saying is "your brother is your father" to emphasize that boys, even younger brothers, have more power and say than any girl. She said that HIV/AIDS and gender equality can not be worked on unless culture changes to respect girls. A law was just passed a few days ago about the equitable division of assets in marriage in Lesotho and Polo said that men were furious. Even though to women and to outsiders, dividing things equally seems fair. But the men feel like they are losing their power.

At the end of the interview, Chebe told me that the people of Lesotho don't even know what the goals are. He said, like most laws and bills, the goals were never discussed with the people and he has no idea how they are beinge evaluated. "If the United Nations arbitratily decides (for no one in Lesotho knows how they are being monitored) that we have passed these 8 goals," he said, "it will be by sheer luck."

Culturally appropriate road rage in downtown Maseru

Today we went to church at Maseru United and I tried to find the woman working with Partners in Health (PIH= Paul Farmer and Jim Kim's org), but she wasn't there. Then I had lunch with Alyssa (real name: Manokhele Kosene) who is the Director of the Lesotho AIDS Coordination Network and her daughter. She was a really cool woman. Her husband was killed in an automobile accident when her daughter was only 1 year old and she created a successful business that found positions for secretaries. When Nancy's parents worked in Lesotho, Alyssa was only a secondary school student and she tutored the Millers in Sesotho, the language of Lesotho.

On the road yesterday, I asked Frank if I could just jump out of the bus when it slowed down in town or if that was illegal and I had to wait until the bus pulled over at a stop. Frank laughed and said that nothing is illegal on the road, so I said bye and jumped out. Then, on the way back, I was sitting in the car, looking out the window, and saw a cab in front of us come to a stop. The driver of a second cab, coming from the opposite direction, pulled out a horsewhip as he rounded the corner near us. When he drove up beside the cab, he whipped the other cabbie in the face, pointed at him and laughed, then drove off. The other driver stuck his head and arm out the window and yelled. It was absolutely hilarious, but when I looked around to see if other people thought it was absurd, they hadn't even noticed. The woman beside me was repositioning her baby and the driver was impatiently trying to turn. I told the Dimmocks and they laughed, calling it culturally appropriate road rage.

Climbing Mount Morija

Yesterday was the peak of my sickness and now I am feeling better and better. Today we went into town- Maseru is so cool. It's like sub-saharan Africa meets some English or Scandinavian village. The buildings in the city center are in the shape of the traditional Basotho hats worn by the people of lesotho (=basotho). The hats look like what workers in rice fields wear and the people here are a little more light-skinned and slightly more Asian or Hispanic features. I am about to leave for Mount Morija where there are footprints from the 'Lesothosaurus' dinosaur. We have to hike almost to the top of the mountain to see the footprints, and it it supposed to be a really beautiful view. Tonight I'm having dinner with Pascalina Mamunyani (her last name means, literally, mother of Munyani-her eldest son). Pascalina is the Primary Healthcare Coordinator for CHAL (Christian Health Association of Lesotho). She is going to make papa, which is like nsimah (or shimah in zambia) but thicker. And we'll hopefully have some pumpkin greens and a little chicken to go with it.

Home to Maseru

Yesterday we arrived in Maseru, Lesotho after one final 5 hour drive from Johannesburg and one final border crossing. We were surprised to find that, although we still don't have hot water or heat (and it is FREEZING cold here) not only did the Dimmock's new house have electricity, but the Church of Lesotho (partner of PCUSA) had painted all the rooms and worked on cleaning and carpeting the house. To celebrate, we went out to dinner at the Maseru Sun hotel, which is supposed to have good stir fry. I had been feeling sick in Johannesburg, and maybe shouldn't have been drinking water in Joburg and Lobatse (in Botswana), but I did. Anyway, suffice it to say that my first good meal in a long time was ruined by some wretched infection. I was up all night, cursing myself for eating so much and trying to be rough and drink the water everywhere. I am (or will be) fine, but have stopped doxy, started cipro, and am drinking lots of water-safe water. I feel like the weak little white girl that can't handle the tropics.

Crossing the border to Lesotho and losing our vehicle

Yesterday I helped Nancy do laundry, worked on med school stuff at an internet cafe, and called home for the first time since I left Rwanda. Then we ate dinner in Joburg at a cool Asian place and they had sushi! I ate lots of tuna, salmon, and yellowtail and I introduced the Dimmock kids to eating raw fish. Alifa, the 9-year-old meat eater of the fam scooted her seat right beside me and we finished off rainbow rolls and spicy tuna. It was good.

Today we left Joburg early and drove about 6 hours to the border with Lesotho. Frank's car and our trailer had to be impounded at the border. Hopefully we get it back soon! We are now trying to rent a car. I hope something works out because I need a ride to the airport in Johannesburg in like 10 days. Last time I was at the Joburg airport, the woman at the South African airways desk, looking at my itinerary, asked me how I was planning to get from Malawi to Johannesburg. When I said 'flying by the seat of my pants', she gave me a disapproving look and handed me my ticket to Lilongwe. I'm hoping to get her when I check in again so I can show that grump that I made it.

Back in Johannesburg

Last night we got to the capital city of Gabarone earlier than we expected and continued southeast to Lobatse, Botswana. Lobatse is only 8 km from the border with South Africa. Crossing into South Africa today was unbelievably easy. The woman at immigration couldn't believe that all 7 of Nancy's kids (she was including me) were "of both different mothers and fathers". We continued south, driving through Pretoria and ultimately stopping in Johannesburg. After driving around downtown, seeing the store of a diamond mining company (where Frank bought Nancy's engagement ring) we checked into an inexpensive guesthouse for the night.

Nancy and I talked that night about Johannesburg and how much it's changed since she was in Lesotho with the Peace Corps in the 80s and in Morija, Lesotho with her family from 85-91. Nancy told stories about life in South Africa during apartheid but that seemed like another world as I looked around Joburg, seeing barely any whites. Most of the Boers (Dutch South Africans) have moved to affluent suburbs of Johannesburg or moved to Europe. Nancy said that when she had her biological son Nathan and their first adopted son (Basotho, from Lesotho) Moses that they were turned away at hotels and restaurants in Joburg. I'm eager to get to Lesotho and see how it differs from SA. Nancy saw the movie "Cry Freedom" before the end of apartheid in Maseru; it was anned/illegal in South Africa. It's hard to imagine that the small country of Lesotho, landlocked by South Africa, did not institute apartheid. But it was and is still deeply affected by all societal and political changes that take place there. I wonder why and how Lesotho has maintained its separateness from SA.