20 Questions

I have recently become the subject of interview for a charming class of fourth graders. They are studying the fifty states under the direction of their incredible Masotho teacher, who is teaching in an American school, and therefore American geography, for the first time. The three other American teachers and the American director have also been pulled into similar service of answering questions about “their” state. Originally, I was to be interviewed by three different students on three separate occasions and thought, “I’ll talk about a different state- NJ, NY and MA- for each interview to widen the scope of their 50 states knowledge.” I went with NJ first, because I was being interviewed by a fourth grader and I attended fourth grade in NJ. It seemed like a good idea.

My first interviewer happened to my brother’s Fijian born twin- same coloring, facial features (especially the ears), visible ribs, sense of humor- they even run the same and it’s a little freaky. I was all ready to talk about the Jersey shore and toll booths and all the undeserved crap NJ takes from the bigger, more boring states. But this kid wanted to know how many people live there (No idea. Pass). He asked what the economy is like (I don’t even know what that means. Pass.) He wanted to know what people eat there (I said, “tomatoes. Well, I eat them anyway.”) When he asked if New Jersey is safe, I told him that the smaller towns are quiet and safe, but that urban areas are more dangerous because of crime. I looked over his shoulder and saw that he wrote “safe and dangerous.” When he asked about natural resources, I told him about lumber from the Pine Barrens (I don’t even know if that’s an actual resource. I mean, the Pine Barrens are full of trees, and people cut down trees, but for all I know it could be a protected area) and all of the things you can grow in Garden State soil. Under natural resources he wrote, “Wood. Dirt.”

Despite the success of that first interview, the teacher reworked the process and decided to have me come in and be interviewed by the whole class. This time, I knew the questions so I was better prepared. I was able to jot down the answers I knew and look up ones that I didn’t, so I wouldn’t appear completely oblivious and ignorant. When I got through the history, economy, politics questions, I was able to move on to the good stuff, like diners and autumn leaves and Spanish and trains to New York City. I then got into a passionate exchange with two students who claimed they ate bagels in India and China (please don’t accuse me of ethnocentrism, but impossible!). I tried to explain to these poor bagel-deprived children that they were merely eating bread with a hole in the middle. Another kid tried to compare a bagel to a doughnut, and I almost lost it. When I went through all of the questions on the list, they asked me more, like how New Jersey is one of the wealthiest states in America, while Newark one of the poorest cities in the country (anyone?) and how to spell “Representative”- slightly easier, easier than “Appalachian,” anyway. After my interview, one of the Virginian teachers asked me if I talked about the mafia. In turn, I asked him if he talked about rednecks, and he said, “yes.”

While I’m still in interview mode, I’ll move along to some of the questions some of you have been asking me:

What country are you in again?
This question is from my brother. Really. Lesotho. And please, it’s pronounced, Le-soo-too.

Why don’t I get notified when you update your blog?
If you mean, why don’t I email you when I update the blog, it’s because that would defeat the purpose. Namely, unwanted emails can become annoying and I tend to ramble. The blog is available for perusal whenever you feel like it and easier to ignore. But if you mean, why doesn’t blogspot email you when I update the blog, I have no idea how that stuff works.

Why is Lesotho inside South Africa?
I’m still trying to work that one out myself. From what I gather, the story may go something like this:
Early-mid 19th century Basotho people (in what is now Lesotho and the Free State of South Africa) fought Boer (people of Dutch Calvanist descent) and British invasion.
Basotho perceived the Boers as a bigger threat (I think?) and asked England for protection.
Britain annexed the land and called it Basotholand.
When the Union of South Africa was formed, Basotholand was a British protectorate and so, not included.
For 45 years, Basotholand remained a British protectorate and then became independent. And became Lesotho.

My neighbor thinks Lesotho shouldn’t exist and says the only it hasn’t become incorporated into South Africa is because “South Africa doesn’t want another two million problems.” He loves Lesotho.

How is veganism in Africa?
Ha! In Africa, or rather from my experiences in Ghana, Malawi, Lesotho and places in between, you eat what’s around, you eat what people serve you, you eat what makes sense. You also eat what is fresh and local and often that includes fish, meat, eggs, (but my disgust with milk long predates my veganism and I don’t think that will ever change). I ate all sorts of Indian Ocean treats in Mozambique, and I’m curious to try South African game- kudu or ostrich or something like that. Basotho carnivore staples are beef and chicken, and to a lesser extent, goat and lamb and those options are less appealing to me.

What is the town you live in like?
It’s hard for me to judge the scope of Maseru, but for the capital city, it seems small. The downtown is small anyway, but the outskirts seem to sprawl and I can’t get a definitive answer about where Maseru ends and begins. There are a few major streets, and many, many smaller ones, which often don’t have names, such as mine. My neighborhood, which contains a little cluster of Americans, is very small, although I don’t know my neighbors (outside of my compound). There are banks and Kentucky Fried Chicken and a few South African chains here and there. There is one café where you can get filter coffee, and a pizza place that has good food although not actually pizza (the other pizza places are foul- one place makes a pizza they call Rustica, which among other things contains bananas, hotdogs and thousand island dressing). I got back recently from a conference in Swaziland, and the other American teachers and I couldn’t stop making comparisons. One described Mbabane, the capital of Swaziland as Maseru on steroids. Another heard Swaziland described “like Lesotho that learned.” I thought it was more like “Lesotho with stuff.” There are just a lot of things you can’t get here like construction paper and fat markers and tahini and vanilla and big picture frames.

What is your school like?
The school is small and close knit. We follow an American style curriculum and go from preschool to grade 8. Just over half of the students are Basotho and others come from America, Holland, Germany, France, Australia, Mali, Kenya, Palestine, Phillipines and more countries than I can remember. Staff hails from here, Uganda, Malawi, Zambia, Sweden, America, Australia and DRC. The school used to be USAID housing so it’s made up of small buildings and looks like summer camp.

What do your days look like in Lesotho?
I teach preschool in the mornings and early afternoon and then I teach art to first, third and fourth graders. And I assistant teach P.E. (Ha!) I’ve been trying to get out of that since day one, but perhaps someone will listen when we begin swimming lessons. Anyway, when I’m not teaching something or other, I’m at a local orphanage washing and feeding and tickling and changing babies. And when I’m not doing that, I’m running.

What have been the most challenging aspects of your time so far? The most joyous?
Relocating to a new place, especially one halfway around the world is just inherently challenging. I have to get used to doing things that are completely stupid and hilarious to locals, and not be offended when they are amused. I have to train my brain to think in rand and Celsius and liters and meters, and say “bin” and “jumper,” so I don’t get blank stares when I tell students to put their tissue in the “garbage can” and their “sweater” on the hook. But I refuse to say “trousers.” It’s a horrible word.

I get lost more than usual here, and the public transportation system is senseless.

Learning Sesotho has made me long for the French I used to dread, or even Hebrew. Simply reading my students’ names on a list makes me feel illiterate: an “l” followed by a vowel sounds like a “d,” “t” followed by “l” becomes a gurgly k, “h” followed by “l” becomes phlegm, and “q” is an explosive click I will never master. “Oe” sounds like “way,” “oa” sounds like “wa,” “u” sounds like “o,” and as you’ve all learned, “o” sounds like “oo,” sometimes anyway. I have a student named Lehlohonolo for goodness sakes, and another who has four vowels in a row in his name. And then there’s learning how to actually speak in sentences. The school custodian who is tutoring me insists that I’m making progress, but I don’t know the word for “liar.”

Lastly, it can be a little confining living in gates inside gates, and being told I can’t walk around alone at night. Not that there’s much to do, or any light to see by, but I’d like the option.

Many of the challenges are also the most satisfying aspects of being here- being forced to see everything freshly, to always be aware and alert and interested in some little thing you pass by.

Joyous? Happy children. And less so, happy parents and happy colleagues. Beautiful runs.

Are you dancing?
Yes. I sing with my students every day and this often involves dancing. I also teach a dance class once a week for my preschool class and the first grade. I’m going be teaching dance after school for the next few terms, and I may have been tricked into putting something together for the play in December. (It’s so tricky, I don’t even know if I was tricked or not). I’m still looking for dance classes and spaces for me though.

Are you meeting many new people?
There are a lot of people here. And I didn’t know any of them when I arrived. So . . . yeah? I mean, it’s impossible not to, but I could probably be more proactive- about finding people who share my interests for instance.

What is surprising you about this place?
This neon pink meat everyone loves. It looks like baloney. They call it paloney.

What is the expat community like where you are living?
Small, incestuous and drunk. Or small, incestuous and Jesus-loving. Overall good people, but I am trying not to get sucked in to having a convenient, ready-made group of friends. I mean, I didn’t come all this way to hang out with a guy from Connecticut. People look out for each other though, and that’s nice.

What is the funniest thing a kid has said or done so far?
I can’t pick one. I have one student for whom English is a second language. Somehow she learned to say, “I don’t want” instead of “I want.” Before I realized this, we had a few conversations that went like this:

Child: I don’t want to paint
Me: Ok, you don’t have to paint.
Child: (Louder) I don’t want to paint!
Me: That’s fine. Don’t paint. I won’t give you paint.
Child: I DON’T WANT TO PAAAAAAIIIINNNNNNT!!!
ME: OKAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!

I have another child who refused to go the music room with the rest of the class so I said, “You have a choice. You can walk to the music room, or I can carry you.” He flung himself under a table, so I had to crawl under after him, extract him and carry him kicking and screaming with the rest of the class to the music room. When we got there, he threw himself on the floor sobbing, “I have no choices! I have no choices!”

In one of my art classes, the students had the option of making a drawing at home on the theme “world harmony” to celebrate the world harmony run, a relay race that is going through Lesotho the first time this year. One girl didn’t quite understand the torch part of it (they will be carrying something like the Olympic torch) so drew three girls holding hands with torches on their heads, and they look like they are burning to death. Another boy missed the theme entirely and brought in a picture of a scuba diver being eaten by sharks.

The funniest things I’ve done so far was take a colleague’s advice that it’s really fun for kids when you make popcorn with the lid of the air popper off, letting the popcorn fly all over a clean sheet on the floor, and having the kids eat off the sheet. I failed to take in the part that the children should stand back while the kernels are actually popping. I think I even told the kids to “gather ‘round” to see better. If you have keener foresight than me, you may be envisioning the children being pelted with scalding hot kernels. I had to kiss a lot of popcorn wounds that day, but no one was scarred or blinded and I didn’t even get fired.

What are the ways you take care of yourself and maintain yourself?
I don’t know if this counts, but I go to the only store in the country that sells M&Ms and I buy a bag. I run. I write letters to all of you or read the ones you have sent. If I have a reason to vent, I find other Americans and do it at them. I read. Listen to good music by good people:

http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=11140956
www.myspace.com/amylousings
www.myspace.com/joshlerner
www.myspace./laurameyermusic

Does it hurt your feelings that when I see barf bags I think of you?
Not in the slightest. (This questions from the Kate Lechstar, in a letter that she wrote on a barf bag).

MY TURN:
What color(s) are the leaves outside your window right now?
What are you going to be for Halloween?
How do you feel about the upcoming election?
When are you coming to visit?