WOO Maseru, very cold

Man, i used to think i would rue the day i began a blog. So impersonal, so lazy, so much ramble room. Not that i dont ramble in my emails anyways. But to share the ramblings to the world? A little vain, I daresay. But also, to deprive the world of the inner thoughts of one of its most loved creations?? A travesty. So here i am. A blogger. I might post the emails that I have been sending since November, but i might just start here. Who knows. Suspense is what keeps the bills paid, no? Well, what would I know about paying bills. Absolutely nothing. Im living in my first home ive ever known not to inhabit at least 3 beautiful, talented, life changing roomates (cough, cough, shoutout) and it is a round hut with a thatch roof. And it is mine. Its beautiful. I spent an entire day painting it blue, and then splatterpainting the walls. It looks like Figment and the magician got into a fight, and there is purple and blue blood splattered on the walls as remnants and evidence of their obvious animosity towards each other. My boss came over last week and told me it was "artistic." At least he didn't say autistic. (cite kk, page 3) I am in Maseru right now for a plethora of reasons, mostly for my sanity, which I dont really feel like i've had a grasp on since i've been here anyways, but its always nice to have that fact shoved in your face. My job is going... well, not so well. I have two schools that I am working at, and one of them is an old church hall cement building with a wall to split into two rooms, and 450 kids inhabiting the space. In one class, there is four seperate classes going on at the same time, one in each corner. In the other classroom, there are three seperate classes. The kids dont have desks, dont have rooms to breathe let alone move their elbows to raise their hands. My other school is a palace. Nicer than half the classrooms in America. Yet, there is no electricity, desks, lunchroom, library. What both schools have in common is a plethora of apathy. Maybe its just my American mindset that schools are a place to LEARN, to be productive, to socialize, but these schools are accomplishing none of the above. And when my job is to go into these schools and work with teachers trying to promote the aforementioned things, it makes my job a little difficult, borderline impossible to do, when the teachers have no interest in being at school. When they DO show up, they go through the motions, sometimes not even bothering themselves to do that. One of my teachers wants to be a soldier, but failed his entrance exam 3 times. The entrance exam has math and history questions... did I mention he is a teacher. And he asked me for career advice. Since I was not feeling entirely obliging, or had any remnance of the social filters I try to maintain, I told him that he should not be alowed around children considering his obvious apathy towards his job, and towards anything without semiautomatic in its name. Hopefully that didnt translate. But when Clement (peace corps staff, oversees the education sector) came to my site last week i had a nervous breakdown after seeing the children be kit over the knuckles repeatedly for doing something they had not been warned not to do. I am not going to get into corporal punishment here because i would like to keep the bran muffin in my stomach, but really. I cant stand it. I told my principal if she chooses to incorporate corporal punishment into her school, I would like to be warned so I can be absent on those days. They dont take me seriously. But, I digress. I am in Maseru today because I am spending a few days with another volunteer whose been here for a year doing this job, to see how she handles things. Is it just my job, the teachers, the schools that I cant handle, or a combination of the above. But its just nice to be in a city again, as much as I LOVE Thaba Tseka. Its nice not to have to stop every three seconds to explain who I am, where I am going, why I am white, why I will not give them candy or money, and why I dont carry around jobs for them in my back pocket. Yestderday when I got off the bus, wiped the drool and sweat off my shoulder, compliments of a lady and her 2 year old son, I was excited to fall back into the Maseru routine. But I find myself a little disoriented and lost without the peopple who I have been accustomed to surrounding me at all times in this city. And then to show up at the Peace Corps hostel to realize that yes, I am new, and still on the bottom wrung of the totum pole is a little disjointing. I abused to intestines out of the landline phone calling all of the people in my pledge class (i know, it makes people sick that i use the term plege class to refer to my group, but it makes sense, doesnt it??) to tell them that i cant wait to fall into the routine of seeing them in Maseru instead of the vague familiarity of Americans that I dont know, but have a common bond with.
My Thaba Tseka life is borderline wonderful. It it wasnt for my job... well, we can just hope that eaither it gets better, or my standards for "better" are drastically reduced. Sam and I were training for the half marathon in Cape Town easter weekend, but after realizing it took an hour and a half to run, and then about 7 hours to get the feeling back in our legs, we have reduced it to just running three hours a week to keep our sanity and our lungs in order. I go into town pretty much everyday to spend time with Sam and Rebecca, to decompress and eat cookie dough, and just to be in their presence. Ive realized that so much of my time here is reliant on them. I dont even like to enter the realm of my mind that sees the possibility of one of them elaving, or us being seperated. That would force me to completly reconstruct my comfort in this contry, and I would have to stand on my own two feet, which I am not ready for, and will avoid at all costs. I know, I am maturing before your very eyes. I just read Gone With the Wind for a second time with freshman year, and had a dream last night Rhett and I were at a Magic game, and I swooned at halfcourt after reading one of his text messages. Im assuming it was dirty.
We had our initial "theater in the roundavel" a few weeks ago, and tried to act out a Basotho play called "Hope Dube" that ended in a musical montage. You will see us on Broadway.
I wish I could do this every week. I wont have internet again for about two months, but I will have a letter, a spotty pen, and words pouring our of every cuticle. So write to me. The mailbox is about 45 minutes away from my house, but when I am walking to town, I can feel my soul immersed in the universal current of the mailsystem, and have an intuition of whether i have a beautiful recyclable piece of paper with my name on it in my little box. I have been right 6 out of 7 times.
Once again...
PO Box 93
Thaba Tseka
Lesotho
Southern Africa
I love and miss all of you.
Please contiue to send me email at gmail, and im sorry if this is so impersonal, but i will write you back through gmail.