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*This first blog entry is long only to give you an idea of the country and basic information. The rest will be more concise*

6/7/2010: Layovers are Painful

This was my first experience flying overnight internationally (I had only previously gone to Nicaragua, which was not too intense for traveling) and let me say that overall it was not pleasant. Fortunately Lufthansa airlines decided to bump me up to business class on the flight to Frankfurt, which made that leg of the itinerary actually enjoyable. From the lavender scented heated towels to the four-course meal served, it was quite pleasant. But the 8-hour layover in Frankfurt, combined with the 10-hour flight to Johannesburg and the 8-hour layover there, made for quite an exhausting two days. The Maseru airport was definitely the smallest one I had ever been in; it was only one building, one security line, two attendants for immigration, and one gate. It was absolutely tiny.

N’tate Chimombe (N’tate means “father” in Sesotho) was waiting for us at the airport in his well-kept Toyota truck. It was very unnerving driving with him however, simply due to the fact that he drove on the left side of the road and the drivers seat was on the right side of the car.

My first impression of the country was a mountainous Nicaragua combined with a few touches of Wisconsin; dirt roads exited the main highway and small tin-roofed huts dotted the hilly terrain. In between patches of houses and small fruit stands sat fields of corn that looked quite ready to be picked – that’s the Wisconsin reminder. It was somewhat comforting to see a familiar sight half way around the world. Overall, everything seemed quite brown, which is typical I suppose for winter vegetation. The mountains, however, were gorgeous in the background – mountains like I had never seen before. I just hoped there would be more color in the bleak landscape.

Poverty did seem to surface nearly instantly when we left the airport. Most of the houses were composed solely of tin panels, and only a few had brick or stone walls. Everyone seemed to have their own small hut with one product or another for sale, which appeared to be the only way these people earned money for their families. Adults wore tattered clothing and fraying hats, while school-aged children wore clean uniforms.

Our lodge was very nice, and the rooms were individual circular huts with thatched roofs. The bathrooms were very nice, but the toilets didn’t really flush well. Overall, the accommodations were better than I had imagined. The only downside was the lack of any form of kitchen or cooking appliance, which meant that we would have to either eat non-perishable packaged foods like cereal and granola bars for every meal, or we would have to eat at the restaurant every day.

6-8: They clapped and cheered for more school.

After a surprisingly delicious “American Breakfast” at the Mmelesi Lodge’s on-site restaurant, the girls and I headed towards Letsie High School with N’tate Chimombe. The teachers were all pretty friends .although I have no idea how to pronounce any of their names. They chuckle when we even try. They were very helpful though, and gave us many practice COSC exams, which are crucial elements to our course that we could not obtain in America.

There is no longer a chemistry teacher at Letsie and the students haven’t learned chemistry in years, so the chemistry portion of our course will not be taught. Also, the students study “Human and Social Biology”, which is much different than the traditional biology syllabus that we created our course based on. It looks like we will have a lot of work ahead of us…

When the four of us entered the classroom to introduce ourselves to the students, everyone smiled. They actually started cheering and clapping when the principal told them that we would be teaching them math and science the next 6 weeks during their winter break. I sure wouldn’t be happy if someone came in and said that I had to learn during my winter vacation, but they all seemed genuinely ecstatic and truly grateful that we were there.

We then went to Maseru to get Meloti (the local currency) and to the “Shop Rite” to get groceries and shower necessities. Most items were slightly cheaper than in America, but chapstick, for instance, cost the equivalent of about $15. There were several other American brands there that I was surprised to see, such as Laughing Cow Cheese (which we all bought a ton of – it has plenty of protein and an incredible non-refrigerated shelf life) and Special K cereals and cereal bars. It was amusing to go grocery shopping and see completely new brands and the same familiar ones right beside them.

6-9: I am a wealthy celebrity circus act.

I have never been so aware of my white skin as I was today.

After leaving Letsie again (we finalized lunch budgets) we entered a kombi destined for Maseru. As we traveled, some people left the van while more piled in. At one point in our trek we had over 25 people, plus some chickens. As each new person squeezed into the van, he or she took a double glance toward the back of the bus where we were seated. Some smiled and waved, some asked where we were from, and some just stared. I felt like a celebrity circus act; most people seemed in awe of us and couldn’t believe their eyes at first, but mostly they just stared. It was like that the entire hour and fifteen minutes it took us to get to Maseru.

We exited the kombi in the Maseru market, where women smiled and men stared – the women seemed to have the more “celebrity” take on us, while the men held the more “circus act” view. One woman must have sensed our complete confusion there and asked, “Are you going to Shop Rite?” I guess all lost-looking white people must be looking for Shop Rite. Fortunately, we were.

Before departing for Africa I chose to wear a simple silver band on my left ring finger after hearing stories of how often white women are propositioned for marriage here. I was glad I had it on today, for as we dodged through stands I heard one man say loudly to his friends, “Look at those American girls! I will marry them all and move there!” I was glad to have my ring on then!

Finally we made it to Shop Rite. Again, I was aware of how differently I was perceived as I stood in the checkout line. Two school-aged girls stood behind me, each buying a small package of candy (their portions are much smaller in Lesotho and even in Europe, I found out). They were giggling and pointing at me, obviously having the “celebrity” view of me.

We then headed to the Vodacom store in a 4+1 taxi. We solved our Internet problems there and met two high school girls from St. Catherine’s High School in Maseru (I think it was St. Catharine…). They expressed their concern for taking their COSC exam this Friday and we gave them some studying advice. Not surprisingly, we were celebrities to them. They even took a picture of us on their cell phones. After that, we decided that it was time we headed back to Thaba Bosiu, for it was about to get dark in an hour.

Outside of Vodacom were a host of 4+1s. We bartered with a driver for a bit and he finally agreed to take us to Thaba Bosiu. The driver asked us where we were from, and what celebrities we knew (once he knew we were from America). Apparently all Americans should know R Kelly and Beyonce. He then asked if he could take us out dancing and if we liked night clubs. We said no, and then he asked if we had “brothers” in Thaba Bosiu. We did not know what he meant until he started using some gestures. We then realized that brothers meant boyfriends. Instantly, we all very convincingly said that we were married or engaged, and that our American fiancés/husbands would be very jealous if they found out we were conversing with Sesotho “brothers”. We all showed him our fake rings and he stopped asking. Once again, my fake wedding band proved helpful.

Because most roads on the path from Thaba Bosiu to Maseru were under construction, cars had to come to complete stops quite often. During these stops, road-side orange sellers flocked to the cars. Once they looked inside and saw our white faces they stayed much longer than at other cars. Children banged their palms on the windows and kept asking us to buy their goods. Finally, I turned my head towards the center of the car, hoping to hide my white face in hopes of having the venders leave. Not only did they see us as “celebrities”, but they held the view that we had unlimited amounts of money and would buy anything in sight. The taxi driver confirmed this belief, by stating that all “Americans are rich”. He wanted to go to America and join a gang and get rich too. Nothing we said, no warning we gave seemed to deter him from the idea of joining a gang if he went to America.

I learned today what it feels like to truly look differently than everyone else. I was a celebrity, a circus act, and a wealthy woman. I feel like none of those in the States, yet here I take on a completely different perceived identity. Every perception is relative to one’s surroundings, and apparently in Lesotho, I am a wealthy celebrity circus act.