I rarely compare Lesotho to America anymore. Perhaps that's a sign that my life here is starting to settle into a normal routine. The endless succession of hauling water, washing clothes, walking to the shopong, riding in overstuffed khombis (public taxis), and navigating Sesotho is now so much my reality that I find it hard to imagine that my life ever included things like refrigerators and private cars. And then there are moments when I do have to pinch myself and remember, that within the occasionally exhausting and often frustrating realities of living here, are the adventures and priceless life lessons. One such "smile and embrace it" moment came this past weekend, while visiting my friend and fellow PCV, Zoe, at her site in Tabola, Leribe (the district neighboring mine.) Like all PCV sites in Lesotho, Zoe's village has it's own unique challenges and rewards...
For example, I dare you to ask Zoe to just run out to the pump to fetch a bucket of water. Such a seemingly simple request will illicit a frustrated rant about the value of water (and rightfully so, as I've now experienced her pump myself, and have developed numerous creative techniques to cut down on trips to the pump in my own village!), an hour long hunt around village knocking on all and sundry's doors looking for a coveted stick called a “tupa” (whose shape and height perfectly prop up the broken pump lever), and another exhaustive half hour of pumping, stopping to reposition said stick, and pumping again. It's a mammoth task that she repeats every day, and the whole ordeal is actually quite the comic routine for the village to behold!
Yet, if you can look past the discomfort, frustration, and occasional hilarity that ensues when two lekhooa (white people) go running around the village koko-ing (knocking) on every door asking for a giant tupa (stick), you'll find an unexpected lesson in cultural integration. Zoe could pay the bo-Me to fetch water for her, but then she'd miss the priceless bonding that occurs, believe it or not, over a stick. She is far from the only villager that struggles at the pump... Its a frustration she now shares with her community. And not a single trip I've made with her to that pump has passed, without attracting a large gathering of bo-Me to join us in pumping and complaining about that ridiculous stick. You know when it's time to draw water because the village fills with the chatter and laughter of bo-Me, along with Zoe's now-perfected Sesotho rant,
"Bo-Me'... Ha ke rate pumpong! Tupa e mata haholo!" (I hate this pump! This stick is a huge problem!)
The women join her in frustration, and everyone leaves laughing with buckets full of water.
It's not my story or my pump, but it's an example that, for me, embodies the true spirit of Peace Corps and the importance of cultural integration. I cannot imagine trying to understand the struggles faced by the Basotho people, and more specifically my village, without living out here with them- leaky roofs, rats in latrines, sweltering days, broken pumps, and all. After all, how could I ever presume to help assist with problems I don't fully understand or experience for myself? It's a lesson that becomes more and more real for me the longer I live here... So I just keep smiling, and try to embrace every experience as an opportunity to learn a little bit about my new community.
With Love from Lesotho – Mary E.
