TravelStream™ news feed for member kristanreed on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/kristanreed en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Thu, 18 Jun 2009 13:59:45 -0400 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kristanreed/4/1245347739/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kristanreed/4/1245347739/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kristanreed/4/1245347739/tpod.html Thu, 18 Jun 2009 13:59:45 -0400 Settling in to life in Lesotho

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Menkhoaneng, Lesotho

A recent winter morning I found myself staring absently at my mountain range while sipping my coffee thinking about Peace Corps has affected my perceptions of the world and its peoples. As with most volunteers this in itself isn't an unusual occurrence but this particular morning's musings were inspired by an essay I had just read which then gave me the additional inspiration to write my thoughts down though I am not in the habit of doing so. The essay was "The Future is Now" written by Katherine Anne Porter in 1950. The first observation Porter made that grabbed my attention was that mankind had made "millions of labor-saving gadgets which can be rendered totally useless" by a power failure. She argued that with the unending advancement of technology we are made more and more helpless and insecure from the use of things that are supposed to make life easier. These "labor-saving devices" do save time and effort until they are taken away, however briefly, and we find that we are less capable than we were before the gadgets were there. Opponents of materialism might say "The things you own end up owning you" meaning that placing too much value on material possessions will make you so emotionally dependent on them that the accumulation and well being of these "things" will dominate your life. In the same vein, Porter implies that with technological advancement we are becoming physically and intellectually dependent on devices that perform or simplify tasks we once did ourselves.

Part of being a Peace Corps Volunteer, especially one in a rural community, is learning how to function, how to be a productive member of society, how to maintain calmness and a sense of self with out the things that save us the effort of doing them ourselves. Through this experience of "doing without" we learn the value of those things we once had and are capable of assessing the necessity of the role they play in our lives. The obvious "things" that would fall in this category are household items like light bulbs, dishwashers, and computers with high-speed internet. Who doesn't wish they still had a washing machine within walking distance? The chain restaurants on the corner "save" us from having to cook our own meal or brew our own cup of coffee and numerous indoor taps allow us an "unlimited" supply of water without thought as to where it comes from.

Some of the things that we as volunteers do without are not as visible in our everyday lives and so may take a little while to really feel the impact of them. For example, most of us know the poor state of the medical services here but, for me at least, it was not until a friend of mine suffered their short fallings that I truly felt the impact of its poor quality.(America's health care system is far from perfect but no one can argue its not better than Lesotho's). The quality of our education is another thing that I really appreciate when I find myself explaining to a high-school graduate that the earth is round or sketching a diagram, for the benefit of a high-ranking government official, to illustrate the mathematical reasoning as to why having multiple concurrent partners is a high risk for contracting HIV.

Overall, I have enjoyed my experience learning what life is like without those amenities we take for granted. It has given me a clearer picture of what I want out of life, what I want for my country, and what I want for the world. It has given new meaning to the saying "You cannot know where you are going unless you know where you have been." I'm not saying Basotho live a life of the past: their reality is definitely that of the present. In some ways, as an American living in a developing country, I better understand where we have been and know better the ways I do or do not like where we are going.

Though only halfway through my Peace Corps education, a clearer picture of the life's necessities might be one of our greatest assets once we return to being a member of whatever level of society we choose to have our influence. As children of the 70's, 80's and 90's growing up in America, we do not know that a world exists without Nintendo, Barbie, or Abercrombie and Fitch and thus may never question the necessity of the new mall being built to sell them to us. We forsake our libraries or athletic teams to watch TV because we take for granted the opportunities our education system offers and many have all but forgotten life without internet. We have definitely made some great advances but Peace Corps provides perspective on the essentiality of some of the so called advances.

Writing in 1950, when the horrific capabilities of mankind's "advances" were all too fresh, Porter wrote "We may indeed reach the moon someday, and I dare predict that will happen before we have devised a decent system of city garbage disposal." She said we are living in "a world not on the verge of flying apart, but an uncreated one-- still in shapeless fragments waiting to be put together properly." I think RPCVs have a better idea of how the fragments should fit together, what pieces were meant to be prototypes- used for a time and then discarded. We will have a global perspective which can put to use at the neighborhood, city, state, or country wide level in whatever way we choose to make our impact. In the 50+ years since Katherine Anne Porter encouraged her fellow citizens to work towards a better future we have been to the moon and back but, I would argue, we still don't know how to dispose of our garbage properly.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kristanreed/4/1242546240/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kristanreed/4/1242546240/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kristanreed/4/1242546240/tpod.html Sun, 17 May 2009 03:56:07 -0400 Settling in to life in Lesotho

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Menkhoaneng, Lesotho

Litolobonya is kind of the female counterpart to the male initiation school songs. Starting when they are still very young girls learn how to do the litolobonya dance with these huge skirts that have strings of bottle caps on the underside and shredded plastic bags on the outside. This particular dance event was practice for one of the woman's marriage ceremony. The sexual references of the dance are obvious and many of the 'M'e's told me it was practice for the wedding night. When they are really performing they traditionally dont wear underwear or tops and paint themselves red like the boys from initiation school.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kristanreed/4/1242541260/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kristanreed/4/1242541260/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kristanreed/4/1242541260/tpod.html Sun, 17 May 2009 02:23:06 -0400 Settling in to life in Lesotho

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Menkhoaneng, Lesotho

Like many other cultures, Basotho celebrate the rite of passage from boyhood to manhood with a big party. Also like other cultures, though perhaps not so many, before the boys become men they have to go through some training and pass certain tests to prove their manhood. And unlike any other culture I know of, the Basotho "coming of age" training for boys is conducted by sending groups of boys to secret locations in the mountains with a few "leaders" or teachers. The reasons behind having a secret location for the initiation school are pretty understandable. As a patriarchal society where traditionally women are expected to respect men at all times and men are the primary if not sole decision makers, it makes sense that the locations of the schools as well as the things learned, discussed and performed at these schools would be kept from the half of the population not able to attend. As an outsider I can sometimes get away with asking culturally inappropriate questions in the name of learning but everyone, even educated Peace Corps staff, are lock-lipped on this one. The part that really baffles me though is that they stay at this secret location with just a group of boys for weeks! During this time, they don't bathe. They wear only a red diaper like bottom and a blanket. They don't wear shoes and they cover themselves with a red dyed mud that is supposed to leave their skin healthier than it has ever been. I can't imagine what they could possibly be teaching them that would take so long (6 or more weeks!). As a fairly independent woman trying to chip away at the subservience of Basotho women/ dominance of Basotho men, the only comforting thought about this extended man-fest retreat is that they must be cooking for themselves because they couldn't possible last that long otherwise.
So at some point towards the end of initiation school, they all come down from hiding for a big feast where they sing songs (evidently one of the things they learned) in a big group while everyone watches. Now I wish my Sesotho was good enough that I could have understood what they were singing about but I do know they were very repetitive -singing the same phrase over and over- and that they sang about the community/nation a lot because I heard the word "sechaba" often. Everyone at the feast was in very good spirits except the boys who are not allowed to talk to anyone else and have to sit wrapped up in wool blankets no matter how hot it is. The whole time they are directed by their leaders and are allowed food breaks. Although people are blocked from entering the area the boys are singing in, they are allowed to walk up to the roped off entry and throw coins, cigarettes and matches into a bowl in appreciation of a good song. This goes on all day, from dawn until dusk at which point the boys head back to their secret location and everyone calls it a day (except of course the Bo-'M'e that stay to clean everything up.
As I mentioned at the beginning of this blog, having separate rites of passage for each sex is a tradition that pops up in many cultures and religions and does not in itself lead to gender inequalities or abuses. BUT, with the state of the gender norms in Lesotho, I would really like to know what goes on at the initiation schools. What exactly are they teaching them that only men can know? Are they actually taught that it is OK to beat your wife if she doesn't obey you or if you just feel like it? Do they tell them that as men they are expected to "be a pumpkin," spreading out all over the garden? Are they told how to recognize a girl that is "asking for sex" without ever saying those words?
This last question was the basis for a conversation that we had at a recent gender workshop. The Gender and Development committee from Peace Corps, has been providing the volunteers in each district with money to host an annual gender workshop for young adults and this year I took a role in organizing it. During one activity the participants were asked to move around the room towards posters that said "Strongly Agree", "Agree", "Disagree" and "Strongly Disagree" after a statement had been read. One of the statements was "Girls that wear revealing clothing are asking to be raped." Now I'm pretty sure that there was a misunderstanding of the word "rape" but either way, several boys and a girl moved to the "Agree" and "Strongly Agree" areas. The boys' arguments were that seeing a girl wearing a short skirt or tight pants would arouse them and after that there was nothing they could do. Also that the girl wanted to have sex if she was dressed that way. So many Basotho men share the mentality that as men they can have as many women as they want with no effort from them. In addition to the endless marriage proposals that female volunteers have to deal with, a common question that we are asked is "Well do you have any white female friends and can you give one to me?"
Like I said before, I don't know what boys in Lesotho are being taught in initiation school but it most certainly isn't self control or gender equality.
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Menkhoaneng, Lesotho

I just want to post a few photos... feelin a little lazy on the blog entry front right now
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Menkhoaneng, Lesotho

Since returning from vacation in Durban I've been very busy working on four main projects. The two projects at the school - a library and garden- don't take much of my time and thus cause me less frustration. The youth group and group that is trying to start a piggery take more effort from me and although I often want to pull my hair out, I think the results will be very rewarding for the community and for me. For anything I need to do with the Community Council, the agriculture extension office, or World Vision I walk to Ha Khabo which is about a 2 hour walk from my village. One day in March while on one of these trips to Ha Khabo I thought it was a perfect example of why working here can be so frustrating.
After waking up at 6, fetching water, doing yoga, eating breakfast, and bathing, I walk out my door around 8:30 to clear blue skies. I had my rain jacket with me because lately it had been raining in the afternoon but since I didn't have much to do that day,was getting an early start, and would not be traveling with my mosotho counterpart who is longwinded and not work focused, I decided to leave my rain jacket behind; a decision I would later regret as I'm sure you could guess from my choice to tell you about my reasonings in the first place.
So I set off in a very good mood which only improved when I got on a taxi at a village 1 hour from me that will cut 45 min out of my walk. Because I rode this taxi I went to the agriculture office first where I visited my very good friend the nutrition extension worker. She is a wonderful woman, and exceptional in that she is a very hard working and dedicated government employee. I work with her and the crops extension worker on the school garden project. We agreed that she will request a car from the district agriculture office to bring them out to my school to give a planting demonstration for my school. Excellent. I am happy as it is still early- about 11- and I have already completed one of my tasks. From there I stopped at the post office, mailed a letter and chatted with the postman who had recently returned from a long stay at the hospital in Maseru, the capital. I was somewhat surprised to see him because Queen II in Maseru has a poor reputation and its said it is where people go to die, not be cured. After the post, I stopped at the shop which has fruits, butter, yogurt -things I can't get in my village. I picked up a few things while refusing an adorable kitten a boy was trying to give me.
Next it was on to World Vision where I was hoping to find my other friend, the director of their agriculture projects. This is always hit or miss and does not matter whether or not I make contact with her before so I stopped wasting my airtime in favor of just showing up and hoping for the best. She was not there that day but I chatted with some of the other employees before heading on to my main task that day which was to talk to the secretary of the community council.
After greeting the assistant and finding that the secretary is in his office I go in and wait while he finishes his business with a very old mosotho man. The council building is the closest thing to a real workplace in my area. There is a room where the assistant sits at a desk with a computer to greet people and handle any business that does not require the secretary or council. The floors are carpeted and the chairs are what you might expect for any waiting room. The secretary's office is twice as big as the entrance room - perhaps 20x20- with a larger kidney shaped dark wooden desk, a larger glass cabinet on one wall and several filing cabinets behind the desk. He sits in a high-backed, leather swivel chair and has a very nice laptop and printer at his desk which is always covered with papers, envelopes and other evidence of important business. On this particular day he is wearing a white sweatshirt with a Looney Toons logo on it which is remarkable because of the brightness of the white.
Once he has finished with the man he addresses me and I immediately note that his speech is a little slower, less energetic than usual. I thought maybe he had a hangover (it was the middle of the week), or perhaps had been drinking in the morning and was now coming down offi his buzz. Either way, I proceed asking him about how the council can support the youth group and its projects, telling him about the library and other things I am doing. When I asked how much money he had dedicated for youth activities he fumbles around his office looking for the budget paper, ending at the glass cabinet which he tries to open by the wrong side of the cabinet door. I then told him about the piggery group and how the business classes are going and ask him why he did not show up to translate, as he said he would. I don't remember his excuse but he promises he will be there the next time.
About this time my supervisor walks in. I did not immediately think this was a bad sign. He greets me and says he did not know I was coming. I also did not know he was coming to the council I say. I start to pack up saying I am finished but he insisted that I stay and walk back with him. He did not ride his horse that day and he business here is very short. I kicked myself for agreeing to this since I should have known that of all Basotho, my supervisor is possibly the most verbose and speaks in parables. Also he is an old man so walks much slower than I do. The kicker comes when the secretary jumps up at seeing a cow and another council employee walk by saying he has to attend to his cow, muttering something about not being able to find trustworthy people to care for his animals. He was gone for maybe 30 minutes. My irritation growing while trying to decide whether I should leave my supervisor or not. When the secretary returns, he is clearly drunk and I no longer have to guess whether his depressed state is from a hangover or morning drinking. I pay attention at first to what my supervisor is telling the secretary -something about the financial records of the committee he heads- but lose interest and motivation to try to understand their Sesotho. I dose off, make notes to myself and watch, with annoyance, as the clouds darken in the sky. After an hour and a half, we get up to leave only to be followed by a half hour conversation outside the office. I am contemplating why I cannot insist on my position. Why did I stay so long when I could have been home hours ago working on my garden or reading. I also think that if the taxi had not been there, I would have gone to the council first and so would not have seen my supervisor and would also be home already. Walking back in mostly silence with my supervisor watching the storm bear down on us I am cursing our slow pace. Anyone who has walked with me knows I like a fast pace. Peace Corps volunteers often ask me to slow down. So trudging along with this 75 year old man was torture, especially because of the imminent storm.
It hit us about half way home and was not rain but hail. Why didn't I bring my rain jacket I thought. Why did the secretary have to be drunk? Why did I stay with my supervisor? I was thinking though that maybe I was lucky it was gumball sized hail because they were not getting me wet. Just stinging a little.
I made it home eventually and shook off the frustrations of the day in part by thinking that I would write about it. Everything about it is typical of working here, drunk and or missing people, unending Sesotho conversations that I have no part in, getting caught in storms. They don't always happen in the same day but it would an unusual day without one of those or something similar. So progress is slow but occasionally there are breakthroughs - an event goes as planned, people come through with their commitments or exceed expectations in some way- and these days are the days that keep me going.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kristanreed/3/1233229560/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kristanreed/3/1233229560/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kristanreed/3/1233229560/tpod.html Thu, 29 Jan 2009 06:54:45 -0500 Starting Life as a PCV

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Maseru, Lesotho

Sadly a friend and co-worker's husband passed away a few weeks ago. I visited her on Thursday and Friday for the memorial service they held for him at the Lesotho Agriculture College (he was a 37 yr old masters student) and then for the preparations for the funeral on Saturday. For the week leading up to the funeral the mourning wife or mother lies on a mat and greives while people come and give their condolences. The day before they bring the prepared body (if they can afford it) in the coffin to the house and set it up by her mat for viewing. The day of the funeral there are several speakers including co-workers, neighbors, preists etc. before everyone follows the hearse or people carrying the coffin to the grave yard. After the burial everyone goes to the house for food. That night the mourning women shave their heads. The next day they wash all of the deceased blankets, clothing etc. This funeral was for a fairly well off person living in Maseru so it was not the most traditional of cerimonies and many of the speakers were from the families catholic church.
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Durban, KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa

First vacation was kind of a shock. Even the first day when we just crossed over into the small SA border town of Lady Brand to get groceries for the Christmas feast was intense. We walked along nicely paved sidewalks lining streets with aboreal dividers to a cute cafe that serves bagels and filter coffee. Afterwards we went to SPAR - a chain grocery store. It sells almost anything you could hope to find in an American grocery store: soy products, veggie burgers, blue cheese, cream cheese, ice cream, spices, baked goods, lunch meat etc. It was glorious and overwhelming all at the same time and the crazy part is its only about 30 min from Lesotho's increasingly disappointing capital "city" Maseru.
The down side of all these "signs of developement" is the still blaringly apparent racial divisions and tensions. The majority of people shopping in SPAR were white or Indian; the majority- if not all- of the people working in SPAR were black. One residue of Apartheid that personally affected me on a daily basis was the difference in the way black South Africans looked at, greeted, and/or spoke to me as compared to the sometimes overly friendly Basotho. There was always evident mistrust/hatred just under the surface of any initial interaction that almost always dissappeared after I smiled, looked them in the eye and greeted them with "Lumela" or "Sawubona." The immediate shit following the greeting is almsot as unsettling as the initial rejection. Smiles spread, amicable conversation starts, and they often enthusiastically help with whatever query I have. But, the emotional tension when they assumed- not unreasonably because of my white skin- that I am an Afrikaner or Apartheid sympathest is very real and made me appreciate the peaceful, friendly Basotho all over.
So after a hectic day of pre-xmas shopping, about 6 of us from the north rented a special taxi because the rank was crazy crowded and drank our way to Malealea lodge. This Backpackers/lodge is a quiet little haven with gorgeous scenery and lots of activities for tourists. Since most of use get enough hiking and village tours in our everyday life were, my group's activities consisted mostly of sitting, eating, and drinking. For more info about Malealea visit their website www.malealea.co.ls/.
Christmas passed pleasantly with good food, good company and realtively few complaints about warm holidays. On the 26th my group of 4 took off for Bloemfontein (history here has been edited to exclude the temporary 5th traveler that accompanied us because she is inconsequential as to the events I would like to relate to you). Tricia, Ashley, Julie and I made it to Bloemfontein, successfully rented a car and were on the road by midday - me in the right-side driver's seat which did not prove to be as difficult as I expected. Within the first two hours we got a flat tire which we were able to change in a safe location (the middle of no where) since Freestate is just huge fields with the occasional farm house and one robot (stoplight) town. Then a little further along the way somehwere else amidst the fields we stopped for a girl and her mother (?) desparetly flagging for help with ther broken (?) VW bug. The older lady with bright red hair approached the car and started yabbering in Afrikans. Once I got the language sorted out she told us a sob story about a broken alternator, Chirstmas spent in the car, a funeral which is very expensive, night shift at a hospital just up the road, a colored and a German willing to fix her alternator for 1,250R or 225R, and no food for 3 days. phew, i think thats all she said but there may have been some other catastrophes thrown in there. I apologized for our tight Peace Corps budget , we gave her some christmas cookies and apples and continued on to Durban.
Finally at Durban, Anstey's is a nice backpackers on the beach in South Durban in an area that is packed with what looks like wealthy South Africans' beach houses/condos. Our first few days in the surfer town were a little disappointing since we were looking forward to a little relaxation/recharge time on the beach but the weather did not want to facilitate our plans. So instead we went to some of the attractions in town. The Victoria street Indian market was our first destination which was a little disappointing partially because it was Saturday and some of the shops were closed but also I wasn't really impressed with the things available.

So i finished this blog and then lost the rest of it due to internet malfunctions... maybe ill retype it sometime... maybe i wont.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kristanreed/3/1229949960/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kristanreed/3/1229949960/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kristanreed/3/1229949960/tpod.html Mon, 22 Dec 2008 09:41:24 -0500 Starting Life as a PCV

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Menkhoaneng, Lesotho

So a while back I promised I would give a detailed description of the public transport system here. The first challenge to traveling in Lesotho is locating the correct taxi that will take you to your destination. The taxi ranks are - in most cases- sprawling masses of people congestion and venders of all kinds lining the steets with putrid odors of trash, urine, makoenea (fried dough), and russians (hot dog like meat) mingling together. The first time I walked into the rank I must have had the "I have no idea what I'm doing" look on my face because everyone rushed up to me hoping to get the rich white person on their vehicle, even starting to take luggage out of my hands to put it on their taxi. Either I look more confident or I can deflect requests more easily because this doesn't happen as much anymore.
The three basic types of transport are 1) a combie-a 12 or 15 passenger van - two in the front and three in each row with four in the last row. this is the cheapest but also the slowest for reasons that will be described later. 2) a sprinter a slightly larger van that seats about 23. this is the priciest and usually the fastest. 3) the bus which is about the size of a greyhound bus but with bench seats and is mid price range.
There are three parties involved in the operation of each vehicle. The driver who has the most important job as well as a considerable amount of control over your comfort for however long you will be on the taxi depending on how well he drives and his music/ volume preferences. The conductor is responsible for opening and closing the door, remembering where people are getting off, and taking peoples money and giving change. I'm not really sure what to call the third person but they stay at the rank and basically round up people to get on whatever taxi/s they're working for.
So once you have found your taxi's departure location you either a) get on and wait for the rest of the seats to fill which depending on the popularity of your destination can be anywhere between 10 min and 3 hours. or b) wait for your taxi to arrive and then return to option a. Most conductors and drivers like to get the most bang for their buck and will pack the car as much as they possibly can, sometimes fitting at least one extra person in each row and a variety of
So after between 10 minutes and 3 hours of waiting you depart for your first destination and hope that everyone on the bus is actually traveling the whole way- which is never the case. Depending on the type of vehicle and the day you will stop what can seem like every 100m to drop someone off or let a passenger on.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kristanreed/3/1223061120/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kristanreed/3/1223061120/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kristanreed/3/1223061120/tpod.html Fri, 05 Dec 2008 06:48:21 -0500 Starting Life as a PCV

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Menkhoaneng, Lesotho

The first weekend in October I was invited to a Bohali (pronounced bo-HA-di) which is a traditional feast that's part of wedding ceremonies. Although the husband and wife may have been married for a while already the feast is supposed to mark the time when the woman leaves her families house to go and live with her husband. The feast takes place over two days. The first day starts in the afternoon with the young girls in the village singing and dancing songs they have been practicing for a week. They sing and dance in a circle for the whole day and night, wearing a traditional blanket and hat stopping only to eat and drink. From what I gathered, the blanket is supposed to represent some sort of protection of the young girls' sexual innocence. In the evening the Bo-Ntate (men) drink lots of the Basotho home brew and slaughter a cow while the Bo-'M'e prepare and serve food. The next morning the girls all go home and sleep, the Bo-Ntate continue drinking and eating and the Bo-'M'e continue serving food and cleaning up.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kristanreed/3/1225572240/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kristanreed/3/1225572240/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kristanreed/3/1225572240/tpod.html Sat, 01 Nov 2008 16:57:21 -0400 Starting Life as a PCV

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Menkhoaneng, Lesotho

One Sunday when I was in village the primary school invited me to a fundraising concert. How it works is someone will say "I'll pay one maloti to hear the Menkhoaneng choir sing." Then they'll get up and sing until someone else says "I'll pay 50 cents to hear the Malefatsane choir sind" (thats the neighboring school). You can also say things like "I dont like that girl Thato, I'll pay 2 moloti to have her sit down and have the choir sing without her." You can also request specific songs and even get the audience in there.

Of course I said I would go and they told me to be there at 12 o'clock. Not wanting to spend my Sunday waiting for a concert to start I decided to show up an hour late thinking I'd probably be right on time. I started to get a little suspicious when I saw a lot of the school children not at the concert and not even on their way to the concert when I was walking over there. But I kept going anyway and when I got to the church that's right next to the school where it was supposed to be held I saw a few school children milling around and maybe 15 adults. I greeted people then asked when they thought the concert would start. The responded in a somewhat surprised manner "The concert will start after church." Of course it starts after church! And church of course starts whenever the pastor gets there. After attempting to evade attending the all sesotho church service I caved and was talked into sitting through 2 hours of sesotho church on rickety benches with some singing but mostly just talking. Then a little while after church, the concert finally started and was actually pretty fun. They packed the church pretty full and I heard they made over 300 maloti for both schools. I didn't get out of there till half past five; a little more time than I'd anticipated but thats pretty much how it goes here. Time doesn't really have the same meaning as it does in America.
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