Sun, Rain and endless Walking

Lesotho.

This is a country that I didn’t know existed, and I am sure that most of you have’t heard of it too. Am I right? Lesotho is like a small island within South Africa. The island metaphor is quite fitting given that the country lies entirely above 1.000 m in elevation. Its lowest point is at 1.400 m (4.593 ft), the highest lowest point of any country. Wait, first of all Lesotho is not just a country but a Kingdom. Second, my statement about the highest lowest point probably got you all confused, but I am sure that it got your attention:) This Mountain Kingdom surely got mine right off the bat with the most stunning of sunsets and by being so different than South Africa. It welcomed us with third world streets busy with random traffic, pedestrians and animals, shopping stalls and aggressive mini buses loaded with passengers to the brim. For the first time in Africa we were the only white people in sight.

What else is the thing about Lesotho that you will see nowhere else? Most men cover themselves in colorful blankets of different designs. In the heat of the day they sling the blanket over their shoulders in a fashionable statement of coolness. The blankets come in many styles and signify social order. Men always wear a hat, boots (most of them white as white fetches the most attention I suppose) and a wooden stick. The stick has multitude of uses. I saw it being used in dance moves, in herding cattle or as a stoop to lean on while waiting on cattle to do whatever cattle does. The stick is also a communication tool, waved around to emphasize words and sentences.

On day three in Lesotho the four of us wished we each had a blanket of our own. But I am getting ahead of myself.

So, this thing with the high elevation translates in bare mountains and extreme weather. About the weather, we learned that the hard way, by embarking on a two day hike. The hike itself was surprisingly brutal, not because we were walking in high elevation, but because it was long, somewhat endless. The path appeared and then disappeared into rivers of erosion that all looked like paths inviting us to follow. We cut through fiends of corn, spread out villages, river beds and thickets with no end in sight. The sun was STRONG. How strong? Deadly strong. There were no trees and no shade. To make things more interesting we lost our sunscreen in the middle of the day. I can hear my friend Mary exclaiming ‘And how on Earth did you lose your sunscreen?!’ Easy. It must have fallen off the backpack’s pocket. That’s how.  All I could do was to beg for gloomy weather for the next day so we didn’t have to roast slow death on the way back. What did we woke up to? RAIN. Never stopping, light but steady rain, the kind that freezes your bones once you are wet, the one that makes you question your sanity and forces you to whine silently for help. Only there was no help. We had to walk the eight hours back to the lodge as there were no taxis, no buses to pick us up and no shelters under which to stuff our wet faces with the appetizing lunch of canned beans. I still shiver thinking of those endless wet hours of trudging through mud, chased by wet children asking for pens and sweets. What was really strange though, was that our own children didn’t complain one bit, not even when B slid off the path into some muddy hole only to be grabbed by our guide in the last moment before disappearing into god knows where. Once pulled out he was covered with sticky mud from head to toe and what did Tleki (the guide) do? He took him to a river to wash off the mud, entirely soaking B with water not leaving a single dry spot in the process.

To cut a long story short we made it back to the hot showers of the lodge that day. And to dinner and to our cozy dry tent only to realize that Tleki probably didn’t have a hot shower waiting for him and a dinner that had a carrot cake for dessert. You see, this is the thing about Lesotho. The land of the Basotho people grounds you on your feet and strips you of any arrogance that might be flowing through your veins. Humble was how we felt. Privileged. Quiet.

The next morning the sun was back on with an intensity that burned holes in the skin. The rivers of red soil that were washing down the road from all directions were all miraculously gone. Our wet clothes dried in no time but It took three whole days till our shoes to stop reeking of moisture.

Forget about the extreme weather. What is important is that Lesotho is beautiful. Once you leave the cities and the small villages you find yourself in hiking paradise of high mountains, crystal clear rivers and mighty waterfalls. The time runs slow here. The people’s faces are serious, yet playful, demanding respect as Basothos are tough. They work the land by pressing down on plows pulled by cows. They harvest their bounty by hand. They walk everywhere with heavy loads on their backs. They sleep on dirt floors, survive freezing winters and carry buckets of water on their heads. This is the land of the proud, struggling to survive in a world of increasing inequality, poverty and diminishing opportunities.

Traditionally people live in round houses as they believe that the bad spirits cannot hide in corners. Yet, the new generation seems to be braving the bad spirits and is building modern ‘square’ houses. I was told furniture fits better in the square ones. Can’t argue this one. We spent a night in the hut you see below. It was cozy. Cool in the summer and warm in the winter I was told. In the morning our Tleki wanted to start a fire right in the center of it. Would it be smoky? I asked. Sure, he said. No way, I responded. He made a fire in the hut next door to dry our clothes. I went to check on it and it was so smoky that I couldn’t even poke my head in. Yet, inside were three kids and a mom crouching by the fire with smiles on their faces.

Ha! This post didn’t turn as I intended. I started wanting to write about my struggles to keep the blog running, yet when I put a photo of Lesotho the story took over. What is confusing to me recently is that this whole blogging thing was supposed to be a temporary affair, lasting no more than a year. The year is up and we are still on the road, collecting more stories and photos than I know what do with:) At least I managed to take you with us to Lesotho, however briefly and rushed.

Anyways, thank you for reading. Say hello…Share back. It motivates me to keep on rambling.

Blessings

~ M