A Year in Retrospect: Beginnings

One year. A landmark time frame. The scale often used to muse over the happenings and experiences of the past.

I now stand one year into my service in Lesotho, and it truly makes me reflect deeply on my time here so far. I can say with certainty that this year was the most adventurous one of my life, overflowing with new experiences. It wasn’t without challenges, of course. I still remember clearly when I first arrived in my village, ripe as a green tomato, stumbling about the strange land. It makes me chuckle when I think about the immense contrast between my comfort level then and now. The strangers’ foreign faces and the incomprehensible sounds coming out of their mouths gradually transformed into friendly, familiar faces speaking words that no longer went over my head.

As I wipe the spider webs and dust off of this blog, I’d like to finally talk about some of the things that I’ve been experiencing throughout the year. Let’s start where we left off -- in the warm, rainy summer of January.

Being greeted by sunflowers on the way to town

Jan. 26, 2015: The Beginning of School

My village from above the adjacent mountain

Fast facts:

Number of students: ~450

Number of teachers: 20

Religious Affiliation: Lesotho Evangelical Church

Secondary school (grades 8-10) established in 1992, and high school (grades 11-12) established in 2007

Annual school fees per student: M1350 (~$90)

Corporal punishment used? Yes

Subjects taught: Math, English, Science, Sesotho, Bible, Accounting, Economics, Agriculture, and Developmental Studies (Social Studies)

Teachers and the school board celebrating last year's results

“Sir! When are we getting a female teacher?” an older boy hollered during break time. A teacher promptly waved a stick at him, and he instantly vanished back into the classroom. Being the third, male, and last volunteer at the school, I laughed internally at the student’s dismay. It was the first day of school. There were a myriad of questions floating above my head. Will I be able to teach these students successfully? What can I do to improve this school? How can I control these students without corporal punishment? Will I be able to fill in the shoes of the previous volunteers?

Surely enough, I encountered challenges on the first day. For my younger Form A (grade 8) students, I tried using a math icebreaker as an introductory activity. I told them to rearrange themselves and sit from youngest to oldest. To do this, the students had to communicate with each other their birthdays and correctly order themselves. The problem I hadn’t considered was that the age range of rural Lesotho classes is expansive due to students starting school late or repeating grades; this class in particular had students between the ages of 13 and 19. The older students, unwilling and ashamed to share their age, sat glued to their desks. The intimidated, younger students were hesitant to go on with the activity truthfully and seemed to sit in a random order. Finding that my encouragement had little effect, I gave in and told the students to return to their seats. They immediately responded by sitting in the exact same seats they were in before the activity, as if to rub in how unsuccessful the activity was.

Me sitting at my desk in informal attire (it was a holiday!)

I realized very early how important it is to keep an open mind and accept mistakes head-on in order to learn from them, especially since I was teaching for the first time in a classroom setting. It’s easy to overlook factors that can make or break an activity. In this case, I found that I need to be sensitive to things that students may find uncomfortable such as their age. This was just one of several lessons I learned from plans and ideas that didn’t fall through, each one molding me slightly into a better teacher. Even now, I still feel that I have an ocean to cross before being able to be satisfied with my teaching. Only through more raw experience can this be achieved.

Having been a student myself for so long, I really gained a different perspective by being on the teaching end of a classroom. It’s essential to try to put yourself in the shoes of the students to ask questions such as: Would I understand this if I were learning English as a second language? Would this lesson bore me to no end? I often look back at the teachers I had during my own stint as a student and mimic and avoid certain attributes that I found in great teachers and dreaded teachers, respectively.

Posing boys

Regarding the school rules, all students must wear maroon uniforms. In addition, students must have their heads shaved clean, including girls. Virtually all the men in Lesotho normally shave their hair anyway, so it’s nothing new for the boys. But why do the girls have to shave their heads? This is to prevent more well-off girls from showing off extravagant hair and consequently making the poverty-stricken girls feel inferior.

Girls, or "banana" in Sesotho

Here’s what a day in the life of school looks like:

7:00 AM: Morning study -- Students arrive at school to study. Those that are excessively late are punished (usually a lash to the hand). Some students who live at distant villages walk for up to two hours just to get to school.

7:45 AM: Morning assembly -- Every morning before classes, the school comes together for an assembly for the national anthem, the Lord’s Prayer, a hymn, and announcements.

The daily morning assembly

8:15 AM: Classes begin -- Each period is 40 minutes, and there are single and double periods (80 minutes) for each subject.

10:55 AM: Break time -- Students have 20 minutes to get some fresh air or buy some snacks at one of the nearby shops.

Students receiving tuition scholarships through the Tuition Assistance Program

1:10 PM: Lunchtime -- The students and teachers are provided a Basotho lunch.

2:00 PM: Afternoon assembly -- Another, albeit shorter, assembly is carried out where only the national anthem is sung, and further announcements are made.

2:10 PM: Classes resume -- These afternoon classes are often the most difficult to teach because students are mentally drained and undergoing food coma from lunch. Toss in the heat of a hot summer day and you have an easy recipe for sleazy, sleepy students.

3:40 PM: Afternoon study – Students are given one hour to study and complete assignments. Contrary to most developed countries, “homework” is not a prevalent practice here and it’s understandable. Once students get home in the rural villages, they have to do household chores or take care of animals. There’s also the problem of textbooks not being available for every student. Consequently, math scores are consistently the lowest out of all subjects. Regular practice is essential for developing and retaining mathematical ability, and thus the lack of practice has a chokehold on math results. Students at least get some practice in the form of assignments, but these are usually short due to the limited amount of study time (which is used to study all subjects, not just math).

4:40 PM: School out! And on that note, blog out!

One of my New Year’s Resolutions is to breathe life back into this blog and to record my thoughts and experiences more often. The problem for me is that I write at a snail’s pace, so many blog attempts have ended in half-finished jumbles of disorganized thoughts. I’ll tell myself: Just write, write, and write. The speed will come naturally.

Here’s to another adventurous, fulfilling year. Happy New Year!

Up Next: Cultural Day!

The chief showing her approval during a cultural performance

Illness, a Gecko, Lemonade, and School

Corn fields. Corn fields everywhere. It’s the time of the year in Lesotho where the crops stretch high into the air and Basotho are hard at work keeping the fields free of weeds.

Endless corn fields. A-maize-ing. Sorry, was that too corny?

Come to think of it, I never shared my Sesotho name. My name is Rethabile Tumo (pronounced reh-tah-bee-leh too-mo). Almost all Sesotho names have a generally positive meaning such as happiness, pride, or gift. Rethabile means “we are happy,” and Tumo is simply the name of the village I am residing in. 

Let’s jump right in. This post will have various topics regarding some events of the past month.

Illness

After going through training without encountering any illness or digestive problems, I was pretty confident that my body was well-adjusted to the new environment. Little did I know what lied ahead once I came to my site.  After the holidays, I was served the whole menu from Lesotho’s Digestive Demolition. Vomiting, diarrhea, headache, fever, a side dish of incredible amounts of gas, and also the fine musical accompaniment from my groaning stomach. Five stars, assuredly. It lasted for about three days, and those three days were truly the most miserable so far in this country. I talked with the Medical Officer, who guided me on what to do and what medicine to consume from our handy Medical Kit. 

We became friends really fast

The culprit for the illness still remains a mystery since a copious amount of food was consumed as a result of the holiday celebrations. About a week later, I became sick yet again, but nowhere close to as eventful as the first. Partly because of these battles, I ended up losing some weight as I now have to tighten my belt buckle a notch. Now, I’m much more conscious about the food I eat, and have been eating more to get my pounds back. As a Mosotho man once told me regarding diarrhea, “Your insides have been cleansed.”

Gecko

One day, I was about to wash the dishes and was greeted by a small, orange gecko. This two-inch-long critter was relaxing in one of my dish basins and slowly turned its head towards me. Being the paranoid person I am when it comes to creatures, I initially jolted back before realizing the thing was harmless. I grabbed the dish basin and gently set the visitor down in a patch of grass outside away from the house. The following day, I was about to wash myself and was sorting through my toiletries on my makeshift shelf, which was a chair at the moment. I picked up my bar of soap and in its place stood the orange gecko once again. After my instinctual body jerk, I carefully looked at the gecko and determined it was the exact same once from yesterday. I was actually impressed that this little guy managed to get back into my house, and even climb a chair to give me a surprise.

The persistent little rascal

I thought about what to do with the gecko this time. Then I realized, “Hmm, maybe I should just keep it.” During training, I concluded that I wouldn’t adopt a cat or a dog because of the responsibility and potential hygiene problems involved. But a gecko seemed rather low maintenance, and I’d be able to have a tiny companion to grow with in Lesotho. Thus, a gecko, who I have named Sticky, is now taking shelter in a glass jar in my home, and is fed unfortunate flies and insects that enter my home.

Host Family

Though I have a host family who lives next door, my lifestyle is largely independent. The family consists of a mother, grandmother, and two little boys. The mother is a pastor and leaves occasionally to partake in church-related activities. My two host brothers are adopted and, I am assuming, orphaned. Sadly, there are several orphans in this country with one of the major reasons being the alarming incidence of HIV/AIDS throughout the population. The older brother named Thabelo (pronounced Tah-bell-oh; writing this reminded me of Taco Bell and now I am seriously craving it..) is six years old and it seems he has taken a liking into me. He often comes over to my house and keenly observes whatever I’m doing. Lately, he’s taken an interest into peeling carrots and helping me cook. Whenever he helps, he gets a little compensation in food from me. The younger brother, Naleli (pronounced Nah-leh-di), is probably around two years old. So I actually thought this little boy was a girl for about a week. However, I have recently concluded that there’s approximately a 50% chance that the child will be roaming about without pants on. So, one day I was greeted by the child’s void of pants and went, “Oh.” This brings us to another story.

Partners in Crime. Naleli on one of his "free" days.

About a week ago, I was working on something with my counterpart in my home. As we were busily discussing, Naleli casually strolled in with his usual curious, google-eyed expression and stood by the door. Of course, he was without pants. Our words were graciously interrupted by the sound of liquid splattering on the ground. I looked over at the source of the sound with growing panic and found a very relieved, almost satisfied, expression from the pants-less Naleli. My counterpart and I cringed in unison and rushed to the scene to redirect the still-continuing stream outside. Following this event, I established that any baby children without pants on are banned from entering my home. 

The entirety of Naleli’s day consists of constantly (and I mean constantly) calling for his mother, who is usually weeding the gardens nearby our houses. The funny thing is, he basically only knows one word, ‘M’e (prounounced mm-meh), which means Mrs./Mother. His chants for his mother are often followed by repeated, nonsense “thi-tha-the” sounds. A few days ago, as I was leaving to use the toilet, I think I heard the little child say “ntate” (pronounced n-ta-teh) to me, which means mister. I was pleasantly surprised that he had learned a new word! He’s also been directing more of his gibberish sounds toward me lately..

School Begins

School officially began last Monday and things have become significantly busier. I didn’t actually begin teaching until Wednesday though because students still continue to register into this week and trickle into the classrooms. I am teaching four different math classes to Forms A, B, and D (coincide with grades 8, 9, and 11), but the number of periods I teach is equivalent to that of three classes since I am sharing two of the classes with another teacher. Because of the historical British influence in Lesotho, the teachers are called “Sir” or “Madam.” Speaking English in the classrooms is mandatory throughout the country (which surely helps me). The students seem to get a kick out of my American accent; Basotho say the letter “r” differently – actually they don’t say it at all if the word doesn’t start with it. For example, they pronounce “birds” as “bids” and “car” as “cah.” 

Three days ago, the scores of the LGCSE national exams for the Form E students last year (graduating class) were released. This exam is similar to the SAT, but is heavily weighted for college admissions. Basically, if you do well on this single exam, you’re going to college. My school ended up ranking 20^th in the country out of over 200 schools, which is an impressive feat. The news was so moving that school was cancelled halfway throughout the day and the rest of the day was spent celebrating.

A thought occurred to me as I took in this news: “Maybe I should be teaching at one of the academically struggling schools. Does this upper-ranked school really need me?” But the reality is, this school can still improve in so many ways. There’s no laboratory for the science classes (yet there are still A’s for science); the library still needs a lot of work; there is a lack of classrooms; and math scores are the lowest out of all the subjects. Why not change my vision to a more ambitious one and help the school become an even better school so that it can build leaders for the country? I’m the third and last Peace Corps volunteer at my school (three is the limit), and I know the previous two volunteers contributed to the continuous progress of this school over the past four years. Being the last volunteer, I need to make my service count and help propel the school to greater heights.