Postcard from Lesotho I

So my first thought as we were driving in to Maseru from the airport was, “WOW, I am living in Africa! AFRICA!” I’m glad that, at my age, I can still get so excited about stuff like this. :)

After checking in to the motel and getting settled, the Country Director (Wendy) took me to lunch at a fairly decent seafood place at the nearby mall, where I had a decent fish & chips. We chatted about general stuff, logistics/itinerary for my first week, and she gave me her major “tip” for Maseru: don’t walk outside alone after dark. She then added that if I were to be mugged – esp. by someone brandishing a weapon – to NOT fight it, and just hand over my stuff. On the flip side, she said if I were being kidnapped – that is, if someone were actually trying to take ME and not just my money, she said to fight that for all it’s worth. She didn’t bother to say why, and I guessed enough to not even ask. She then repeated this basic advice once more a little later, mentioning that a PCV had, in fact, been murdered back in 2010 not too far from our office. Needless to say, now I was REALLY excited about being in Africa! :)

With that being said, it appears to be safe during the day. At a hotel mixer, I met a woman doing intellectual property work who had been here about six months and she said she liked Maseru, overall, and one of the things she liked was that it was so ‘safe’ – and then she said, “Of course I wouldn’t go out walking alone after dark.”

 My hotel digs are pretty nice – it’s actually a “flat,” with a separate living room, bedroom, and dining room/kitchen. My bathroom even has a bathtub which I promptly took advantage of since I’ve been living for the past year + without one. I’ll be here for a couple weeks while the guy whose place I’m taking trains me and lives in the house. Friday, after my first week at work, he took me by the house to get a good look at it and I was shocked to see that it was even much bigger than the pics I was sent. There are three bedrooms, FOUR full bathrooms (plus a half bath), two living areas (one with a fireplace), a good-sized separate dining room, a big kitchen with another table in there for eating, a laundry room with W/D, and another small room currently empty/being used for nothing that may become my library. There is also a two-car garage, a large yard surrounding the house that has grape vines all along the back and one side wall, and a good-sized garden. The whole thing is surrounded by a stone wall, and there’s a gated entrance with 24/7 security. I have the option of getting another place, so right now I’m debating on the “pros” of having such a huge place to myself with the cones of feeling like it’s just a bit much. We’ll see.

The weather is awesome so far. It’s odd to be in a country where it’s “winter” in August, but so far the temperature has been pretty moderate/nice – like lower 60s during the day. But my sinuses and eyes are bothering me and I’m hoping it’s just a temporary thing as I adjust. It still gets pretty cold at night (like upper 30s).

On just my third day, we happened to be swearing in a new group of volunteers (see pics on FB). Their ceremony was significantly more elaborate than my own in Kazakhstan and involved quite a bit more “local color.” It was held in a village just outside Maseru, lasted for two hours, and included speeches from 3-4 local dignitaries – including the head chief of the village, a member of parliament, and one of the government ministers. The volunteers were sworn in by the new Charge d’Affairs from the U.S. Embassy as the Lesotho ambassadorship is currently empty. I was really “feeling” the local color when I heard the cheer/yell the local women give for certain dignitaries, or in response to speech highlights, or just to give a “shout out” to certain folks. It would be impossible for me to reproduce it. At first it sounded kinda scary, actually. It sounds a little like a yodel, except it’s the same two-syllable sound repeated many times – probably the closest I can come to describing it is….no, I just can’t describe it. I am impressed with these volunteers – while my group, too, lived with a host family during training, the Lesotho PCVs’ living conditions were/are much “starker,” and will be so in the villages in which they’ll be working. Most will not have running water, many will not have electricity, etc. I’ll really be curious to see what it’s like when I do some site visits.

As for my job, so far it’s mostly been reading up on manuals, signing boatloads of spending authorizations, and meeting folks. I’ve been reminded how frustrating it is to start a new job – not knowing anyone, anything, waiting to get up to speed, etc. I’m also one of the rare hires who is coming to country/post without first going through the Overseas Training (OST) in DC. Due to timing/need, I’ve started in country right away and will go to the next OST towards the end of October.

Here’s the first “culture thing” I am NOT appreciating/understanding: The drivers seem to honk just for the hell of it. Maseru is NOT a large city, and the traffic is not bad at all, and yet drivers will randomly honk or possibly in greeting. I HOPE I can get used to it, but right now it just seems incredibly stupid/lame and is very annoying. The Programming Director says it’s actually just to let people know they’re available. But there are tons of taxis and it’s not like it’d be that hard for you flag one down. The honking ones are called 4+1s (4 passengers plus the driver), but they are NOT metered, and you never know when you’d get to your destination, since they can still look for more passengers (beep beep! beep beep! beeeeeep!) until they are full. More expensive taxis can be hired for door-to-door. But the people are friendly enough (again, esp. compared to the Chinese), and I don’t get nearly as many stares as I did in China/SE Asia, though there appear to be just as few white folks here.

Finally, a fun fact: they call hot dogs “Russians” here. Actually, they’re kind of in between a hot dog and a Polish sausage and are pretty good. But I can’t find anyone here who knows why they are called “Russians.” Sergei? Stas? Anyone wanna venture a guess as to why?