Let’s talk about food! (Basotho Edition)

I can hardly believe I waited so long to write about food! It's a topic that nearly everyone back home is curious about, and it's certainly a "hot topic" conversation and morale booster in the Peace Corps community! So let's talk about lijo tsa Basotho (Basotho food)...

As a traditionally (and still mostly) agrarian society, Basotho are almost entirely dependent on several "staple" foods that are able to be grown in this mountainous terrain and arid climate.  The most important and prolific crop is, without a doubt, maize (corn.) The vast majority of maize produced by subsistence farmers (such as my host father, Ntate Bereng) is ground into maize meal called, papa. To make papa, fine powdery white maize meal is added to boiling water, and turned with a long wooden stick until it's very dense. It's somewhat akin to grits in the southern US, except it's a finer ground consistency and it's cooked until it's very stiff. And let me tell you, it's ALL about papa, papa, papa in Lesotho... Nearly every Basotho I know will eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner, 24/7, 264 days a year. In a tradition that I find utterly baffling, it is rarely cooked with any additions or seasonings- not even a little salt or butter. And suggesting they "mix it up" a little by doing so never fails to illicit laughter or shocked looks. :)

"Bland" papa is okay, however, because papa is nearly always paired with a very salty or savory side dish… Common papa pairings are cooked morroho (spinach, cabbage, or rape greens), nama ea khoho (chicken), nama ea khomo (beef), chakalaka (a spicy vegetable dish traditional to southern Africa), mahe (scrambled eggs), or linaoa (beans). All of the above dishes tend to be VERY salty and/or oily. Eating is normally done with your hands… The papa is packed tightly into small mounds with the fingers, and then used to scoop up some of the side dish with it. So each bite flavors the papa. While adults prefer savory and salty papa accompaniments, children  love "papa le lebese" (papa with milk). It's comfort food for kids "Basotho style".. Just think "mac and cheese" or PB&J in America. :)

In the absence of papa, Basotho also commonly substitute with rice, samp (another form of cooked maize, similar to hominy), or bohobe (steam bread.) Bohobe is baked in giant metal pots, left to slowly bake over slow-burning fires or paraffin heaters. It's slightly sweet and is leavened with yeast, to make a very dense white bread. It's simple to make and incredibly filling. Other common side dishes in Basotho cuisine include mokopu (pumpkin, squash, ect.), and  lihoete (carrot) or beet salad, made with LOTS of tangy mayonnaise.) Desert, although not common in many traditional households, is almost always a baffling combination of jello and custard… Don't ask. I have yet to discover why they can't be served separately. Ha! In a classic British tradition, biscuits (more akin to savory cookies or scones for Americans) are also typically paired with the custard jello for desert… And sometimes even found crushed up in it! Delightful, right?!

Most families in rural areas, such as my village, are subsistence farmers. This means they literally produce their own food supply, and what outside supplies they do need to purchase, they do by selling or trading their harvested crops. Most families (if wealthy enough,) raise cattle, chickens, sheep, goats, or the occasional hog for meat. The prevalence of subsistence farming, however, means that food supply and diversity is incredibly seasonal in Lesotho... During the summer months (Dec- Feb) food is abundant... Family gardens overflow, and maize is picked fresh out of the fields to be roasted as poone (corn on the cob) over open fire pits. Peaches literally overflow on trees. Everyone in the village eats well and goes to sleep with full bellies.

By mid winter (June- Aug), however, food supplies begin to dwindle. The strain to ration becomes more apparent, especially in the orphans, or children from very poor families, that attend my school. Families may only serve one meal a day to make winter stores last longer. As maize supplies dwindle, there is also a seasonal shift in the kinds of foods serves. Sorrghum is another common field crop in Lesotho, and during the winter months it often replaces papa in the diet. A common "winter dish" in Lesotho is called nyekoe. Nyekoe is a hot, thick stew made of sorrghum and linaoa (beans).  In the winter, it is cooked in giant black cauldrons over outdoor cookfires... And on a chilly evening, it's a little bit of home-stewed goodness, “Basotho-style.” Given the cold weather, winter is also the preferred time for butchering livestock... So nama ea khomo (beef), which is typically very expensive (and thus not commonly eaten) during summer months, tends to be more prevalent during the winter months.

But no matter what time of the year... Three things always be an indulgence in the Basotho diet: joala tsa Basotho (home-brewed Basotho beer), nama (meat), and lipompom (sweets.) That's because both joala, nama, and lipompom are luxuries that many family can't (or at least shouldn't, in the case of joala) indulge in. They're simply more expensive. Joala is often brewed cheaply by village bo-'Me, out of wheat and whatever fruit happens to be in season (ie cheap)... And trust me, it’s an acquired taste that will knock you out if you’re not prepared for it! Ha! You can always tell when there's a fresh batch of joala to be had around the village. If not from the noisy, drunken groups of bo-Ntate gathered outside some family's compound, then from the colored white or yellow flags hoisted above the house that advertise that fresh-brewed joala is for sale!

I’ve come to enjoy cooking and eating many Basotho dishes during my time in Lesotho… And while I perceive Basotho food culture as being notably lacking in diversity or creativity in Lesotho, I also understand that food fills a very egalitarian role in Basotho culture. It’s a necessity. And enjoying a diversity of foods, or experimenting with creativity in new combinations or recipes is really not something that occurs here, because it’s a luxury that many of my Basotho friends and neighbors can’t afford. Food is carefully rationed, cooked in traditional ways, and hugely appreciated as a necessity of life. Even so, I thoroughly enjoy participating in “Basotho food culture…” Which means I eat a whole lots of papa, papa, papa! :)

With Love from Lesotho… –Mary E.

The Trouble With Time.

The most significant decision I made while packing for Peace Corps wasn't in what I did pack, but in what I forgot to pack; I forgot to pack my wrist-watch. It was the same worn-out, silver-linked wrist-watch I'd worn through years of University, hours of studying during graduate school, and countless meticulously scheduled appointments while working at the American Cancer Society. The watch I lived my life in sync with; the clock that controlled my methodically planned life. Then I moved to Lesotho, and I accidentally left it behind. As it turned out, however, my packing oversight didn't make a bit of difference because in my little corner of Africa, time takes on a different meaning.

In Ha Selomo, life has a natural, almost “lazy” rhythm to it that makes watches nearly obsolete. Everything happens eventually, but worrying about "when" is pointless in a place where time itself seems optional.  A pitso (village meeting called by the Chief) scheduled for 9am, will begin "on-time" at 11am. Khombis (public taxis) come when they want, and the shopong opens when bo-'Me' finish their morning chores. The pump has no water, until one evening it does. And there is no such thing as "time wasted…" Afternoons spent watching likhomo (cattle) graze are hours just as well spent as any other.

It’s a liberating experience to escape the ticking of a watch. And despite my ingrained cultural attitudes towards time, which have made my adjustment to Ha Selomo occasionally frustrating, I have adapted. Over the past 9 months, I’ve watched my rigid schedules and obsessive planning dissolve, and I’m a healthier person for it. Every morning, I rise just before sunrise and fall asleep naturally just after sunset. I do still own a small digital clock, but I rarely need it. My days are measured by the steady progress of the sun as it crosses the sky. From anywhere in the Linakeng Valley, I can point out the opposing ridges that I watch it rise and set over every day. Interestingly enough, this “awareness” has also meant that, for the first time in my life, I’ve noticed the shift of the sun’s arch with the passing of the months.

In the absence of a ticking clock, I find myself drawn to new kinds of rhythms- those of my body, my community, the seasons, the sun. I notice things like seasonal change more acutely. Every season seems to have it’s own rhythm, chores, and sounds that guide it’s passing. Paying attention and living through these seasons has helped me understand the mentality of my community of subsistence-farmers more deeply as well. My Ntate’s obsession with weather and lack of discussion about “the future” makes more sense when you consider that his entire livelihood lives and dies with THIS harvest. He doesn’t own a clock, that I know of, and probably never will. He doesn’t need to. Living in the present absolves the need for watches. He is tied to this moment, day and season in a way that I never witnessed, no less understood, before living here.

I see the same mentality with time play out in  my students as well… They have trouble grasping the idea of truly envisioning and planning anything in the future. They want things “one day,” but they don’t obsess over achieving them the way that I did as a student. They don’t LIVE in the future. They live in the present as well, because their lives demand it. Their lives are full of present concerns and needs in a way that is foreign to many Americans- They need food now, are cold now, need money now. It’s a mentality of time that has both positive and negative affects on their school work and futures.

For me, adapting to a new concept of time has been the single healthiest lifestyle change that could have happened to me. The lack of attention to time is, without a doubt, one of my more frequent frustrations of living with Basotho. However, it’s also teaching me a valuable lesson about the importance of letting go and living in the moment. It’s a transforming experience… Realizing how much I don’t miss that little, ticking device that ruled my life. :)

With Love from Lesotho- Mary E.

Building Friendships. Building Faith.

I am blessed to have incredible friends in Lesotho. On a daily basis, my Peace Corps family is absolutely critical to my emotional health and happiness... From the moment we boarded the plane at JFK Airport, they were my support system. Friendships came easily and unbidden because we were on this crazy adventure together, whether we liked it or not! :) Given this, it may be surprising to hear that the most rewarding relationships that I have in Lesotho are not with other Americans... They are with Basotho.

Nine months into my service, I consider myself blessed to have built 2 or 3 strong Basotho friendships. This may seem like a pathetic boast to most, but it's not to me. It's important and truly meaningful. Its meaningful because its not a given or guarantee that when you join Peace Corps you will be successful at forging lasting relationships with host country nationals. Its difficult to create true friendships in a country where you don't speak the primary language, and where cultural differences can sometimes make it seem like you have very little in common with people.

A few of my friends and colleagues!
Me, Rethabile, Hente, and Ernie.

I'm incredibly happy and comfortable living in Ha Selomo. So it's sometimes difficult to understand how, while everyone in my region knows OF me, very few Basotho KNOW me. I sometimes wonder if any of my neighbors ever ask themselves what it feels like for me to live 8000 miles from home. If the man who screams "Lekhooa!" at me from the street ever wondered what I like to do in my free time, or how many siblings I have. If my colleagues, who know me as the "Math and Science" teacher, realize that I wrote my Anthropology Master's Dissertation on "Embodied Experiences of Pain During Childbirth." If the children that ko-ko at my door realize that, up until a few months ago, I had never been (or necessarily wanted to be) a teacher. People know 'Me' Limpho, the lekhooa teacher that lives in Ha Selomo. They rarely take the time to get to know Mary Beth Bird, the Army Bratt, who loves Jane Austen novels and inner-tubing down the Maury River with her family every summer. It’s just a fact of living here: Building cross-cultural friendships can be difficult.

Yet as challenging as these relationships can be, they are unbelievably rewarding. Take the case of my friend, ‘Me’ Makabelo… 'Me' and I have been friends since my PST, where she was one of my Sesotho teachers who lived in Makola with us trainees. She's an English high school teacher and part-time seamstress, who lives in Maseru with her husband and three kids. She’s a wonderful person, and her fluency in English and worldly attitude allowed us to quickly become fast friends. She's been a constant source of support and guidance for me ever since. 

During PST, modeling our new seschweschwe that ‘Me’ made!
Zoe, Me, Me Makabelo, Kim, and Amanda 

Yet when I decided to visit her and her family for a long weekend over winter break, I'll admit that I was a little apprehensive. I was incredibly excited to see her and meet her family, but I was also nervous that my visit would put her family "on-edge" or make them uncomfortable... That’s because I often feel that the "honored guest" status I am sometimes given puts up a wall between me and my Basotho hosts/friends. It's a difficult line to walk, between respect for their desire to welcome me properly and with respect, and the intimacy of informality and friendship. There always seems to be this pesky apprehension- Fear of doing or saying something wrong, wanting to make the other person comfortable, but not knowing how. It seems an inevitable initial awkwardness anytime I visit a Basotho friend for a meal or afternoon. But this was going to be more than that… I was going to be in her family’s personal space  (without my own to escape to) for a long weekend. It was going to be a new “cultural” experience. To be honest, I didn’t know what our friendship would be afterwards.

As it turns out, however, my apprehension was completely misplaced. From the moment I walked into their house in Matsieng, I was treated like family. It was an experience that was truly refreshing compared to previous encounters with Basotho families (even, at times, my own host family.) I felt absolutely at home with them. ‘Me’s youngest daughter, Lily, entertained me endlessly with demonstrations of "how clever she was," we went to church, cooked, curled up in bed with popcorn and movies, went on long walks, and talked for hours on end. It was an incredible weekend, and by the end of it, I could tell that 'Me' and I had really strengthened our friendship. I felt absolutely blessed that she and her family had welcomed me with open arms, and I could tell that my coming to visit meant a lot to her. And best of all… I got to spend the weekend as "Mary Beth," and being able to be myself with a Basotho friend meant the world to me. It was a wholly new experience for me in Lesotho.

So on my way home, I found myself thinking a lot about why my friendship with 'Me' Makabelo means so much to me... I have lots of friends here, but my relationship with her makes me feel something different than my Peace Corps friends. And then it occurred to me... Building my friendship with her gives me faith. Being friends with Americans is easy for me. Its a given. It comes naturally, without thought or reservation. But my friendship with her, while it did develop organically, might never have happened. It might not have happened if we both hadn't been people who look beyond stereotypes and our own comfort zones. It wouldn't have happened if we both weren't open to accepting different world views. Our relationship is built on empathy, humility, and desiring to understand someone who was raised in a very different social, cultural, and economic environment. At it's base is a mutual respect for human difference.

So building Basotho friendships gives me faith in humanity. It gives me faith that building cross-cultural bridges really is possible, whether in international policy, global healthcare, or peace building operations. And beyond that, I can honestly attest that I feel like my life is enriched for having cross-cultural friendships. I’m a better person for having people in my life, that I trust, who have a very different way of looking at the world. Through them, I get to experience a whole new dimension of everything. That makes my life here in Lesotho immeasurably richer and more meaningful… These friendships are possible because of the things that bind us as humans. They exist in spite of the things that set cultures apart.  That gives me faith.

With Love from Lesotho… –Mary E.

25 Surprising Things That Don't Surprise Me…

After living in Lesotho for 9-months, I am no long surprised…

1) When bo-Me decide to strip and bucket bathe in front of me.

2) When PCVs (including myself) use the "pee bucket" in a room full of people.

3) When I’m awoken by the sound of rats in the middle of the night.

4) By having to frequently kill thatch spider or throw rocks at aggressive dogs.

5) When Basotho warn me about witches or witchcraft.

6) When people ask me for lipompom (candy) or chalete (money.)

7) When men ask to marry me, tell me they love me, or proposition me for sex.

8) When bo-Me ask me if I know how to cook papa.

9) By the idea of my neighbors and friends being polygamists and/or adulturers.

10) By the reality that as many as half of my students are orphans.

11) By the amount that PCVs discuss bodily functions. :)

12) By the reality that, on a daily basis, I interact with people who have HIV, AIDS, and/or Tuberculosis.

13) When getting to a village or town means hiking up to 15km.

14) When taxi conductors cram 20+ people into a van.

15) By the high possibility that I could catch malaria or TB at some point in the next year.

16) By the concept of not bathing for a whole week.

17) When I have to drag my laundry down to wash in the river because there is, yet again, no water in village.

18) When I find out another 8th or 9th grader is pregnant.

19) When people stand 6 inches from my face and yell when simply saying hello.

20) When bo-Me tell me, with evident delight and admiration, that I am “fat.”

21) When I find severed cow heads lying around my host family’s courtyard.

22) By references to lebola (dowry/bride-price), traditional circumcision, or abductions/forced marriage.

23) When strangers yell "LEKHOOA!" as I walk by.

24) When visiting a friend means hiking up a mountain.

25) When I get sunburned in freezing weather.

Tis’ The Season!

Tis the season of winter in Lesotho...

Tis the season of cold..

Of shorter days and frozen nights.
Of frost-bitten fields, and snow-capped mountains.
Of paraffin heaters and Basotho blankets.
Of courtyard fires and chilly evenings.

Tis the dry season...

Of empty wells, slow pumps, and unyielding taps.
Of barren ponds and rivers run dry.
Of wind and dust,
Of clear blue skies and burning red sunsets. 

Tis the season of want...

Of empty bellies and hungry mouths.
Of rationed food and skeleton fields.
Of high gas prices and limited fire-wood.
Of cattle without grass and pumps without water.

Tis the season of unending work...

Of butchered lifereke (pigs) and likhomo (cattle).
Of bo-Me gathered to khotola.
Of sifting sorghum and grinding maize meal.

Tis the season of family...

Of caldrons of nyaikwe swaying over fire pits.
Of jubilant children free from school.
Of all-night prayer gatherings and all-day festivals.
Of song and dance and drums and life.

Tis the season.

With Love from Lesotho… –Mary E.

Snapshots from Swaziland!

Just a few pictures from my trip to Swaziland in April, 2013. Enjoy!

Our permatent at Lidwala Backpackers Lodge in the Ezulwini Valley. It was heaven to fall asleep next to a stream to the sounds of crickets and monkeys in the trees.

Will- Our fearless driver!

 

Now THIS is what a vacation should be… Poolside, under a mango tree with monkeys. :)

 

Amanda and I, tackling the Usutu River one km at a time!

 

Of our group, Will definitely had all the “natural-talent” for white-water rafting. Ha!

Team Will and Zoe!

The Class Five rapid that launched Amanda and I out of our raft, tried to drown us, and then forced me quickly downriver and nearly over a very terrifying waterfall! It’s Africa! It’s an adventure!

The whole gang with our guide, Beke! Ready to tackle the Class Five!

  

“We are Peace Corps Volunteers! We are African adventurers!”

Swaziland was breathtakingly beautiful!

 

Out for after-dinner drinks and desert.

 

Hand-painted scarves… The craft markets kept us women busy for days!

Touring the glass-blowing factory, and trying to resist craft shopping!

 

We basically ate our way across South Africa and Swaziland…
And it was heaven!

My favorite PCV couple: Will and Amanda.

Amanda has been known to love herself a dog or two!

The end of a lovely vacation in beautiful Swaziland!

The Best of Times. :)

“They were the best of times. They were the worst of times.”
- Charles Dickens

I think Dickens must have been a Peace Corps Volunteer. Or at least he knew a few… Because my life in Peace Corps is breathtakingly priceless, painstakingly frustrating, over-flowing with joy and laughter, full of disappointment and tears, absolutely rewarding, occasionally mundane, breathtaking when you least expect it, and confounding in it’s ability to teach you something new about yourself EVERY single day… And through it all, it’s the occasional, seemingly-insignificant gatherings, birthday celebrations, and chance-encounters with my Peace Corps family, that keep me going!