A TRIP INTO THE HEART OF LESOTHO (31 March – 5 April2010)
By Karin Davel
After many meetings at the Andersons’ house, prayer and more prayer, the time to take the long and rocky road to the middle of Lesotho had arrived. On Tuesday night we all got together to sort out the three vehicles’ loads...and that’s when we heard the upsetting news that Ross’ Land Rover was still on its way from Johannesburg. The expected time of its arrival was 10pm and Ross was sure it would only take 10mins to pack everything once the roof rack had been lifted into place with the help of a crane – proper Mr. Cool Relax-it!
At 3am on the 31st, the alarm alerted us from a fitful sleep (which was anyway only a few hours long, as I first had to do some last minute preparation work for the trip). We enjoyed a lovely hot shower (the last for quite some time!) and when we were about to get into the car for our rendezvous time of 3:45am, Sam’s sms came through – the departure time had been postponed from 4am. After we filled up the Condor’s thirsty tank, and waited in vain in front of the Turnball’s house for the rest of the convoy, we got another sms – now we would only be leaving at 5:30am! We went home for an hour’s snooze on the couch (the kids didn’t even hear us coming in again – to get up at 3am to say goodbye must have been very tiring!). In the end we only left at 6am. Poor Ross had hardly any sleep – the car only arrived at 2:30am – the weather coming from Gauteng had been awful. They travelled at about 60km/h all the way!
There were 5 people per vehicle. Sylvia and Debs were the good conversationalists in the Condor. Their many interesting stories and good sense of humour kept us entertained all the way. The 3 Afrikaners, At, Karin and Marelke, only now and again had to add a word or two.
Sani Pass was a bit of a disappointment to those expecting awful roads. The road was newly scraped and even higher up the big holes were filled in and the zigzags felt like a highway – broad and smooth, no loose gravel to cause a slide.
After a quick stop at the “Highest Pub in Africa” (lots of changes are in the making), on and on our curvy journey continued. Around the next bend lay yet another valley slightly different from the previous. We made good time because the roads weren’t too bad. Every now and again we stopped for a quick photo shoot, but most of the time “the camera crew” ( in our car) did the capturing of memories from the moving Condor.
At Thabatseka we stopped for quite a while to allow Debs to use (with permission) the public long drop (oh, how privileged!) and we were asked many questions by Kingsley, a man in a similar yellow top to mine. I was intrigued by a burnt out shack – the rusty corners and panes created an interesting frame for the rural scene. A beautiful bit of tar road after this small village, in the middle of nowhere, was quite surprising but a welcome change from going bump, bump, bump!
The moment we took the turn-off to Methalaneng, we realised the easy ride was over. We crawled along painstakingly slow in places and sometimes a collective “Ouch!” was said in sympathy for the hammering the cars had to take. The Condor’s bash-plate changed shape quite a bit from hitting unexpected rocks. The bladders cried out for a stop when the journey got too long...and a few dicey photos were taken (especially of Debs exposing her London-white backside to the mountain breeze).
A trip that should have taken us about 40mins, according to Merrill (from the turn-off, to the campsite), took us longer than an hour and a half...so it was almost dark by the time we saw Merrill standing at the edge of the road, surrounded by happy little Lesotho kids wrapped in their Basotho blankets. We were all sure that this vision was conjured up by Ross’ desperate call, “Merrill, Merrill, where are you?!”, just a few minutes earlier. A lot of “Dumelas” were joyfully shouted.
The head lamps came out when we had to put up camp, because the sun had lost its power and the moon had no strength yet. We were all very grateful that Sylvia had done such good work planning and preparing all the meals. Soon after all the tummies were filled to satisfaction, the lights were dimmed. The 12 ½ hr journey had taken it’s toll.
Earlier, we were all very glad about the balmy weather, but boy, did we wake up with a bang when the wind suddenly started to howl at 11pm! By 11:30pm lots of people were up securing tents and taking the gazebos down. The Andersons’ tent nearly collapsed under the wind’s force and their gazebo took quite a beating. Ours stood firm, but unfortunately our two lamps, which were lodged between the pole structure and canvas of our gazebo, had crashed to bits onto the concrete floor.
Just as suddenly as it came, the rain went...and we enjoyed a good sleep (only for the lucky ones without wet pillows and sleeping bags, hey Debs and Marelke?) until about 7am. At quickly earned the name of Oom MacGuiver when he managed to fix the broken gazebo and lights so that they could work again just by connecting some wires when we needed them.
A few shy faces were starting to pop up amongst the long grass while we were enjoying our breakfast, so we realised that soon the kids' program would have to start. The day was beautifully sunny, so all the prayers for good weather (after predictions of rain and cold!) must have paid off.
The play started quite tentatively, but because some had been here last year, it didn’t take too long for them to get hoola hooping, skipping...and the balls were a definite favourite. The team and kids soon warmed up to one another. More trusting smiles appeared on little faces and when Donald, Pauline or Merrill spoke to them in their own tongue, there was response back. We tried our few Sotho words tentatively and were rewarded by a few “What your name?” or “ball” with a hopeful glint in the eyes. They enjoyed the worship times – some even sang in parts – but I think activities like tug-of-war, colouring in and decorating cookies with njammie sweet icing sugar and smarties, were even more popular. It seemed like Sam and all the willing helpers’ hard work, to plan and prepare all the activities, wasn’t a waste of time.
Stu grazed his right knee quite eina during an enthusiastic bit of slip and sliding and Paul amazed us all with his energetic “ee–one, ee-one” encouragement of his tug-of-war team. Debs’ gypsy side was brought out when she had to play the tambourine during a musical game (not played very successfully! - I mean the GAME!) and Daniel was a willing totem pole while everyone tried to throw hoola hoops over his head. Emma and Abby were in great demand as expert hoola hoop demonstrators and soon they had a few successful followers. Daniel and Sam managed time and again to bring the skipping game to a halt by getting the rhythm wrong, but by persevering, Daniel managed to get it right in the end. At also showed his youthful side by joining in the group-skipping and he was surprisingly good at timing the rope’s arch.
Some of the older Sotho-folk also came to see the strange white people and entertain us with their skills. An old man played his home-made one-string pipe-flute. The sound reminded me of an Australian didgeridoo. An old woman, smiling broadly her broken-tooth-smile, challenged us all to a race...and soon a mini-athletics event took place on the uneven runway. Merrill won hands down the woman’s race and after a slow start, I managed to catch up on Debs and the old woman (clearly my 12sec 100m-days were long past!). Donald ran his heart our and managed to pass Stu just in time for a win and when it was the little ones’ turn to run, we could clearly see where the talent lay.
We were privileged to see Chris, the MAF pilot, come in and land with nonchalance on the uneven terrain with his Cessna and take off again with equal ease, to bank steeply to the left and disappear down the valley. This kind of flying surely takes guts! Merrill was very glad to see one of her few white, English-speaking friends for a few minutes and we realised how isolated and lonely her life here in the mountains must be.
On the first full day at Methalaneng, the clouds gathered threateningly, so we sent the kids home at 2 o’clock...and then, as it’s typical to do here in Lesotho, the weather changed its mind...so some of the team’s members went on a walk to the ravine and bridge. I stayed at the camp to draw the view. I got a lovely shot of At sitting high on his roof-rack-throne overlooking the mountain grandeur and the first of many sunsets. The sky seemed to be on fire!
Debs Simms, our very own English princess, with her woolly pink Crocs and muti for every possible ache and pain, kept us entertained with her quirky sayings and super sense of humour. She mastered her fear of camping and got very good at using the long drop with panache. She even gave us a detailed demonstration of how to de-core a tomato when it was her turn to cook supper.
We had two birthday boys this trip: on the first day, 31 March, Stu outgrew his young man shoes and had to accept the heavy load of being 30 (which he did with grace)...and on Saturday, 3 April, Daniel finally became a boy-man of 14yrs’ wisdom. We came ready prepared with cupcakes, balloons, party hats, candles and noisy paper trumpets (not to talk about my built-in trumpet!)...so these were festive occasions. Both proudly wore the bright yellow party hat, with candles on top, all day long!
The early morning- and deep night- stillness were a great contrast to the noisy, fun-filled daylight hours. The lonely baying of a donkey, the crow of a cock or the deep clang of cow bells early morning dropped like pebbles into the stillness and over it all lay a mantle of stars – open and wide as the Lord’s grace. I loved the subtle sounds and sights of life which brushed my ears and eyes like the gentleness of fire smoke visible against the mountain, still shrouded in shadow, while I sat down in the school grounds, drawing a typical mountain hut scene.
After supper and all the cleaning up chores; showering in luxury in Ross’ shower cubicle ( Stu was the guinea pig when the heating system was tried out in full view of an interested audience)...or the washing of our dusty feet in a bowl of water, there was time to lie down and watch the stars. Before the moon stuck its head out over the ridge, the Milky Way dusted the sky with millions of sparkly bits...but later, when the bladder’s fullness urged one to leave the snug confines of one’s tent, only the bigger stars and planets were lighting up our world.
On the second day, a few brave ones took on the challenge of the very steep hills, which these mountain people take on daily with a smile, to go and see what our campsite looked like from the opposite mountain. It showed up as a little speck on the photos which made us once more aware of the vastness of this country.
By the last day, we’ve gathered about 160 – 190 kids, many of whom were very small...so it was quite a challenge to get them to play games, especially since we couldn’t speak their language. At least we’ve learnt that “hantle” means good and that “emma” is the term for stand up. The women helped to tie countless string bows and we couldn’t help but smile at the many-eared bunny puppets. Daily their faces – so round, innocent and trusting – became more precious to us and we recognized with pleasure some faces from previous days.
The natural leaders in each group stood out and even though their names were long and hard to remember, their smiley faces were burnt into our memories to become a sign of the good we hope we have done.
After we have said goodbye to the children for the last time, and they’ve all gone home with their marshmallow egg-men and other activity trophies, we all walked up the very steep hill, which Merrill has to tread daily, to visit Merrill at her home. The view from her place was lovely.
After reminiscing about the activities of the past 3 days, we all prayed for Merrill’s safe keeping and for her ministry work here amongst a people troubled and confused by generations of tribal traditions and fears. It’s hard for her to persevere when she doesn’t see active change, but we all realise that change is in God’s hands, In His time, a spiritual renaissance will happen.
Going up the steep hills, back to the main road away from Methalaneng, was much faster than coming down. Even with a punctured wheel on Ross’ car to contend with (a quick job, thanks to At’s strong high-lifting jack) we made good time. We were quite disappointed to hear that the trip into the Katse Dam wall wasn’t on (it was by all means Easter Sunday!), but when we were allowed into our comfortable houses (12B and 13C) at the Katse Orion Lodge, around 3 o’clock, we were grateful that we didn’t have to sleep in a tent at the campsite (very bare!) which was overlooking the dam. What a luxury it was to have flush-loos and a tap, with running water, close at hand! Even though a few people still had to sleep on blow-up mattresses (the houses had only place for 10 people) we were glad that we didn’t have to pay for the extra 5 people. The Lodge’s management was so kind as to give us a discount when they heard that we’ve been on a mission.
We all voted and the majority wanted to sit down around a table and eat in style at the restaurant, so the leftover food was turned into the last day’s 'padkos' – sandwiches with cheese, mince and chicken mayo – yummy! Sylvia had done an excellent job of calculating how much food was needed during this trip. We had just enough!
The 3 drivers poured over At’s computer maps for quite some time and by looking at all the pros and cons of the two possible routes back, they came to the unanimous decision that we will go back via Ficksburg, Golden Gate and the other Eastern Free State 'dorpies', instead of taking the same route back down Sani Pass. Soon after, while the thunder rumbled and the rain fell softly on the roof, the two houses became quiet. Get-up time was at 5:45am.
The 5th of April dawned misty and cool. Marelke commented on how blessed we had been by enjoying cool travelling weather and sunny days at the camp to do the program we had come to do. Our early get-away of 7:06am soon got eaten up by many photo stops. The views of Katse Dam and mountains, full of little streams and waterfalls, were an amazing sight. As we moved closer to the South African border, we could see how life got more prosperous. The crops looked healthier (fewer black jacks!) and more entrepreneurial skills, in the form of little businesses with pretentious names like “American Take Away” and “London Beauty Salon”, were visible. Debs got quite excited to see (by prayer or fluke?) that she must have ended up in London, because all the businesses had “London” as a pre-fix.
Sylvia, Debs and Marelke got their first view of the beauty of Fouriesburg and Golden Gate’s mountains and all promised to be back as soon as possible.
At 1:50pm we entered Bergville, grateful to stop for a quick coffee and petrol/diesel. Our sitting bones were starting to protest loudly! What a disappointment for the ones after At – he was the last one to get a coffee...and then they said, “Sorry, no water!” ... which also meant no use of the toilets!
Home, here we come – grateful for all our blessings but also with a new knowledge of how unnecessary some of our must-haves are. “Thank God for a blessed trip!”
