As we travelled down a dirt road that would lead us to the Church, 2 men were waiting to offer their services as our guide for a small fee. The guidebook had told us to expect this and so we agreed. We had yet to see, the hill we would need to climb to get to the tracks, and still we were humbled as we looked at their shoes.
Tag Archives: Lesotho
In Search of Dinosaur Tracks
Today we headed to the town of Leribe, just 20 minutes by car from Mary’s home. We visited a shop that has beautiful weaving so made by people with developmental disabilities. Then we headed down the road another 20 minutes or so in search of dinosaur tracks. The guidebook tells us that there are many Lesothaurus tracks behind the Church, on a ledge that has fallen.
As we travelled down a dirt road that would lead us to the Church, 2 men were waiting to offer their services as our guide for a fee. The guidebook had told us to expect this and so we agreed. The fee seemed high, given that they were just leading us to the backyard of the Church. I was certain, we could find it on our own. And yet, one look at their clothing was all the encouragement we needed to employ their services. Their clothing was ragged. One of the men wore a pair of tennis shoes that were barely more than thin soles held together by the shoestrings. It was evident that the fee they were asking was necessary.
They lead us to the Church. As we walked behind the Church, I expected to see a large stone nearby with dinosaur tracks on it. I started looking at every large rock in the vicinity. The guides caught up with us and pointed up, up, up. p a steep hill were large overhanging ledges. This is where we would find our tracks.
We started to follow them up the hill. I made it about 5 to 10 minutes in when it became clear to all of us, that I was not going to make it up to the overhang. The respiratory infection had stopped me in my tracks. Mary insisted on staying with me, so she and I had wonderful Mother Daughter time, while the guys headed on up the hill. After they had been gone for 15 minutes, my breathing had slowed down. I decided to try again. I did not even make it 5 minutes, before my lungs began to burn and my breathing became labored. It is the first time in my life, that I was unable to do something physical that I had set my mind on doing.
I settled in to enjoy this blessed time alone with Mary. I took pictures of her and her beautiful pregnant belly. We laughed and talked and breathed in the preciousness of this time together.
The guys made it down and filled us in. Sam said it was the highlight of the trip for him so far. They showed us the pictures of the tracks. They were so grateful for the guides. They did not think they would have been able to find the tracks without their help. The fee that I originally considered charity, was in fact fair payment for a job well done.
Cultural Differences on Motherhood
Tonight Will, Sam, Mary, Paul and Sammy went to Paul’s parent’s for dinner. Sam and I stayed in bed. After dinner, Paul’s parents came back to the house to meet us. They said hello to Sam as he laid in bed. I got up and came out to the living room for a short visit.
Mary’s relationship with Paul’s parents as well as their relationship with Sammy has been confusing to me. When Mary and Paul got married, she was required to live with Paul’s parents for the first 3 months of their marriage to learn how to take care of Paul. This was confusing to me. Paul is a healthy young man. He does not have any special needs. Mary patiently told me that this is part of their culture.
When Mary got pregnant with Sammy, she was not allowed to live with Paul for the last trimester of her pregnancy, nor for the first few months after Sammy was born. It seems that there is a cultural belief that having sex during this time could cause the baby to become blind or disabled. Mary lived with her parents for the last trimester and then for the fist 2 months after the Sammy was born. After that she had to move into Paul’s parent’s home for a few months.
When I would ask her the baby’s name for a long time she would say that she did not know. It was Paul’s parents who would name him. I could not imagine this. In fact, Paul’s parents did give him his Basotho name and then Mary and Paul gave him his English name – Sammy.
Paul’s parents have as much and perhaps more say in the raising of Sammy as Mary does. He lives in their home during the week and comes home to Mary and Paul’s house on the weekends. They can come and get him whenever they want. This has been very confusing to me. Mary’s response is, “It is my culture.” Tonight as I sat with Paul’s parents, his mother pointed at Sammy and said, “That is my last born.” I thought my head was going to explode. That comment made no sense to me. Her last born? Wasn’t it Mary who was in labor for 2 days to give birth to that child? Wasn’t Sammy her child? I had a difficult time reminding myself that I was there to grow in my understanding of the culture, not to judge it.
A Day in Bed
Will entertains Sam after a long day recuperating.
My low grade fever upgraded to a fever of 101.5 in the middle of the night. Remarkably, I was able to text my dear friend and Doctor, Steve. He diagnosed me with a respiratory infection and suggested I take a specific antibiotic. I looked at the antibiotic that the travelers clinic had prescribed and gave him the name…nope. Not effective for respiratory infections. As I continued to text him, Niko found Will and Sam’s prescribed travelers medicines and there it was, the very antibiotic I needed! How incredible is that. I am half way around the world and I am able to text my doctor for $.50 and get a diagnosis and prescribed the medicine I need and just happen to have it with us. I started the antibiotic immediately in hopes that I will feel better within 24 hours and be able to explore the sites with Mary and Paul.
Sam woke up in the night with pains in his tummy and ran outside to vomit. This morning, we both woke up feeling miserable. And so, today, we are both spending the day resting.
Sam moved into Niko’s bed so that he could get some rest and so that we could keep each other company as the others went on with their day. Mary and Sammy left early this morning for school. Will and Niko slept in and then spent the afternoon at Mary’s school. Sam and I slept and read and slept some more.
Niko and Will came home and shared their stories with us. They were able to enjoy another performance of the incredible choir. I am disappointed that we missed going to the school. I especially am disappointed that I missed hearing the choir again. Their performance will be one of the highlights of our time in Maputsoe.
The Weavers
Between Maseru and Maputsoe is at town known for their weavings. We stopped at one of three weaving outlets suggested in our guidebooks. The front room of the building was made out of cans and is where the weavings are displayed and sold. The back room is where the looms are and where the tapestries are made.
We stopped at each loom and watched the artisan weave their tapestry. Amazed by the deftness of their fingers, and the beauty of their work.
As we walked in, I was immediately taken by a tapestry that was hanging that was of the mountains and trees in deep hues of green, purple and blue. The more I looked at it, the more I questioned whether it would feel too dark in our home. Then I saw this incredible tapestry of a woman with a water jug on her head. Her dress was a deep red. The colors were bold, not bright but bold and beautiful. I fell in love with it. Niko took one look at it and said he like us to find another one. He feels like we have enough art of woman in our house and would like to balance it with something more gender neutral. And so we went back and forth and chose a weaving that depicted village life in Lesotho to hang in our living room.
I just cannot stop thinking about the woman with the jar. I am beginning to realize that when we find something we love we should not be so quick to let it go. It is important to find a compromise with those who share our space for what goes in our shared space. However, I also know that I could have hung her in my office. I like the one we got, but I do not love it, nor am I moved by it as I was with the woman with the jar. With art, should we go with what we love, or with what fits, or compromise on something that everyone likes enough? I think with art, we should go for that which speaks to our soul and save the compromise to where it will be displayed.
Bathroom Joy
As we passed through Maseru, the capital of Lesotho, Sam and Will spotted a Kentucky Fried Chicken and convinced us to stop. Niko found a parking spot near the building on the street and not wanting to leave our things unattended, sent us in to get the food.
I entered the building and headed straight for the bathrooms. Oh my, they were beautiful! They were clean, Western toilets, that flushed and felt like home. I could not believe my excitement. The food was fine, but those bathrooms? They were a bit of Heaven!
Seshoeshoe Aprons
We left Mohales Hoek with a lighter load and a heart that was full. We left behind over 400lbs of donations and now carried in our hearts the 20 children of the St. Camillus Center. Stephanie drove with us as far as Mafateng.
Mafateng is between Mohales Hoek and Maseru. It has a Shoprite grocery store, which has a large selection of foods and better prices than can be found in any store in Mohales Hoek. Before we entered Mafateng, we turned off the highway to a small village, where Stephanie’s friend Tracy lives.
Tracy is a 50 something year old woman who lives in a small village as a Peace Corp volunteer. She has a big heart and a bright spirit, and I liked her immediately. She has started a sewing coop with the women of the village. She purchased four hand cranked sewing machines and seshoeshoe material in all different colors. Seshoeshoe is the traditional cotton cloth of Lesotho and it comes in beautiful prints and colors. The women were making aprons, bags in all different sizes and bracelets.
We entered Tracy’s small one room home. It was no more than 10 by 10 feet. On her bed and on each surface were laid out these beautiful items. I was drawn into their colors and started to set aside those that we would purchase. The Lesotho Connection had requested that we look for crafts that we could bring back that could be sold to raise funds for The Lesotho Connection’s projects. We bought over $500.00 worth of wine bags, aprons and bracelets. It was so much fun to purchase these beautiful items knowing that 30% of the sale would go to the women who made the products, 50% would go to the programs for children affected by the AIDs pandemic and the rest of the funds goes to replenish their stock. Stacy gave us a wholesale price to support the work of the St. Camillus Center. Our $500 was worth 6000 maluti. A small fortune in their village. Our dear Mary who has a job as a high school teacher only makes 2000M each month, which is considered a middle class salary in a society where the unemployment rate is about 30%.
A week after we arrived home, I received an email from Tracy. It read, “Thank you, thank you, thank you. When I told my cohorts that I had sold 6000M worth of product today, they looked at me and said, ‘You must be mistaken. You must mean 600.’ I said, ‘No, I mean 6000.’ They looked at me and said, ‘Say it again.’ Then there was screaming and dancing and singing.”
As I read these words, I was overcome with emotion. Here we were just looking for beautiful things that we could buy to sell back home. We had no idea how deeply our purchase would impact these women’s lives. A story Tracy told us as we learned about this project echoed in my mind: The first time the women received their checks, they embraced Tracy and said, “Tonight our children will eat meat.” Then there was dancing and singing.
The Work of this Holy Woman Takes Root in My Heart
Sr. Juliana
Woman of Compassion
Reaching out in Love
Becoming home to each child in need.
Following her Jesus who says,
“Let the children come to me.”
Her little ones,
Her Jesus,
Call her name and she Responds,
“I am here.”
-Kim Colella
Bus Driver Niko
Niko has created quite the bond with the pre-school children. Every morning he picks them up and takes them to school and every afternoon he brings them home. Today we went to the Center early to witness this morning ritual. Niko parks next door at the Bishops compound because it is easier then driving down the road full of pot holes to the Center. He then walks around a fence to get to the Center and fetches the little ones. Once they all have their coats and shoes on, together they trudge back to the van. Halfway to the van all 5 children stopped. The four boys unzipped their pants and took a pee, while the little girl, pulled down her tights and hiked up her skirt as she squatted to relieve herself. Right there where they were they just decided now is the time and this is the place. I giggled at their sweetness.
Sweet Goodbyes
Tonight we said our goodbyes. When we come back tomorrow morning all the children, except for the preschoolers and babies, will have left for school. I pray that the time we spent here will be a blessing in some small way on the children and matrons who live here. I pray that our time here will have an impact on Sam and Will. I pray that seeds of compassion and generosity and deep gratitude will take root in their hearts and that as they reenter there lives in the U.S. that they will do so knowing that they are a part of a larger world, a larger reality then their lives in Tacoma. May the spirit of this place go with us.