Settling In

My traveling served one of it’s purposes well because by the time I got back to Lesotho, I couldn’t wait to have an address and my own room (not to mention house) and to store my stuff in drawers instead of on my back. I live in the capital of Maseru in a pretty safe neighborhood, although I haven’t yet found someone who will tell me it’s fine to walk around at night (and I only ask the people I think are most likely to tell me that I can). The flats where I live have 24-hour security and there are iron bars on all my windows and iron gates over the doors. They are decorative enough that I don’t feel like an inmate, and to be honest, I’m more afraid of being trapped inside, than of someone else getting in.

I live across from the Pope’s Field, a huge green space with a little white cross-adorned podium in the middle, which was built a few years ago when the pope came to speak. I don’t have a yard, but I have some scrubby grass and I can watch the king’s goats and sheep and cows graze on it while I do my laundry (The king and prime minister are the only people allowed to have livestock in the city. Technically, it could be the prime minister’s animals, but that doesn’t make hanging my socks to dry as exciting as when I think I’m in the company of the royal sheep). I haven’t seen the king yet, just his sheep and cars and children who attend the Kindermusik classes held at my school. He lives around the corner from Shop Rite in a mansion-sized version of the Brady Bunch house.

My friend Angela asked me what my favorite thing about Lesotho is. I’m pretty sure that it is even in the city, which isn’t very attractive as far as cities go, anyway I turn there is a gorgeous view. Every time I go out for a run, I like Maseru- and Lesotho- more. Every road eventually winds around a hill or a mountain, and as I run around and around it looks like the whole city is spinning underneath me.

Today, I could see snow in the mountains. Down where I was, it was warm and sunny with bright blue skies but some nights I sleep in a sleeping bag stuffed with hot water bottles underneath a down comforter, with a heater on and I’m still cold. Some days I teach with my jacket on, and other’s I strip off layers as the hours pass, chug water and get sunburned. We’re in the dry season and when the wind blows, everything becomes coated with a layer of dust. But the seasons are changing. I saw rain for the first time yesterday, and am still waiting for one of the spectacular lightening storms I have heard so much about.

After getting back from Zambia, I stayed in Maseru for about 12 hours before heading to South Africa. As happy as I was to have a permanent home, I was scheduled to start working the next day, and I anticipated itchy feet in the near future. More importantly, the principal offered me a ride with him and his family to a pretty little town that cannot be reached with public transportation. Unlike the rest of the Free State, Clarens, South Africa is full of art and antiques and gourmet food shops and four-star restaurants (with $7 meals!). We arrived mid-morning and since the principal and his wife insist on eating in their favorite restaurant twice each trip, we had breakfast at 11 am and lunch 2 hours later. In between, I strolled the town and art gazed and bought some toilet bowl cleaner and sponges. When the principal surveyed my purchases he said, “important things,” but I could tell he was appalled that he brought me all the way to Clarens (which Lonely Planet describes as “the jewel of the Free State”) and I shopped for bathroom cleaning supplies. Before we headed back to Lesotho, I bought two homemade truffles and a bar of peppermint soap to make up for it. The chocolates were delicious, and frankly, I licked the soap, which was not as delicious but tasted edible.

When I got back, I tried to get as organized as possible. My house came with seventeen keys and I spent a good amount of time trying to figure out what they are all for (impossible). My living space is enormous for one person. Not seventeen keys enormous, but I have two bedrooms and two bathrooms, a kitchen and a huge living room. It’s falling apart a little, but it’s nice to have space and lots of big windows. My house was stocked with basic supplies when I arrived, and since there is a South African department store called Ackerman’s, it was pretty cool that when I arrived half my stuff was labeled with my name.

At the same time I was organizing my house, I was also setting up my classroom. So I had a pretty good first week of work listening to Bob Marley and organizing closets. That week, the whole staff had a HIV/AIDS training, and I suspect it is one of the few times a year we are all (secretaries, teachers, custodians, bus driver) in the same room together. It was more or less 8 hours of icebreaker games punctuated with power points on universal precautions and pathology. But the real icebreaker was adorning rubber genitalia with male and female condoms with my new colleagues. It definitely beat Two Truths and a Lie.

And then the children arrived. For most of these children, this is their first time at school. As I teach in an international school, my students hail from several different countries. About half are local, and I also have students from America, England, Ireland, Ethiopia, Malawi, India and Libya. They youngest is two and 8 months, and the oldest are more than four. One speaks English as a first language. One understands English as a first language, but she has Down syndrome, so speaks very little. Three speak English as a second language. The rest speak Sesotho, Arabic or German only, although that is sloooowly changing. 90% of my students arrived in tears, and that too, is slowly changing.

There is really no other way to describe the first day than awful. The only children who didn’t sob, were those whose parents/nanny refused to leave. They interfered with what little I had planned, and glared at me as if I personally was making the children cry. One girl, Sushmita, came with her mom and dad and both stayed the whole day, and the dad had his video camera in my face all day and when he thought I wasn’t looking, opened my cabinet doors and filmed the shelves. The nanny, who is conveniently named Nanny, insisted she had orders from her employer and permission from the principal to stay in the classroom for an entire week. The latter was definitely not true. Plus, the child showed up in diapers although it is school policy that all children be toilet trained. I had to spend my break calling the Libyan embassy, trying to find someone who could convey to the top diplomatic official that little Moheb’s disgruntled and exhausted preschool teacher doesn’t care if he’s the ambassador to Heaven, his child may not from this day forth, enter her classroom with a babysitter or a diaper. Then there are the German parents who ask me questions about the class and when I answer look at me as if to say, “why are you speaking?” The mother is from East Germany and attended a government preschool there, where are children are toilet trained by the age of ONE. Personally, I think she’s a little scary.

Overall though, the parents, including (and especially) the video taper and ambassador are satisfied and appreciative. In fact, when I gave my presentation at the school open house and asked if there were any questions about the class or curriculum, most just commented on how happy they were with the class so far, rather than asked questions. Except for the Germans. Oh, Germans.

In class, while the tears have subsided, the chaos has only grown. Fortunately, the children seem happy (if very wild) save for my temper tantrum maestro. All the staff at the school were given a book called The First Six Weeks. It is about how it takes children six weeks to settle into the routine of a new school year, to adjust to new classrooms, classmates, teachers, materials and rules. As I begin week five, I have a feeling that our first six weeks are going to take more like six months, but I’m trying not to think too much about the distant future.

As it’s warming up here, I hope you are all enjoying those crisp autumn days that I love so much. Crunch on some leaves for me, ok?