The bus on it's way up to Semongkong and people of Ramabanta selling peaches and masimba snacks to passengers through the windows.
It's been a pretty crazy few weeks; lots of trips to Maseru for PC meetings and functions which is both draining and fun. I've gotten used to the craziness that is the capitol, but I do miss the peace and quiet of my village, the mountains, the people who know me and treat me like a familiar friend. I love seeing friends in Maseru, eating out, drinking in public (something I never do in Ramabanta), watching movies and catching up on news (and facebook)... but Maseru wears me out and I'm ready to go back to the mission. As soon as church ends tomorrow. I've had two visitors in the past two weeks, which is always really nice. It gives me an excuse to bake for someone else and to go on gorgeous hikes around Ramabanta.

Last week, a group of a half dozen boys in my village came to my house and asked me something about food. I thought they were pointing behind my house and told them they could take anything that wasn't in my garden (lots of edible wild plants and berries grow at the mission). I was wrong. Next thing I knew, the oldest boy was lifting one of the smaller ones onto the roof of my porch. I realized they were going for the pigeon nest up there... but not for eggs. The pair of nestlings were plump but still had sheathing on their feathers and so could not fly. I don't much like pigeons and I'm all about kids getting some protien in their diet, but I admit to feeling a little sorry for the parents when they returned to their empty nest.

On Wednesday, Pam, Amber, Lizzy and I journeyed to Kj's in Quthing for a day of permaculture related activities at Bethel College where she teaches agro-ecology and other courses. Kjessie showed us natural swales and terracing in the area and we talked to Ivan, the founder/president/manager of the college, about solar energy. Thursday afternoon, Kj took us on a great stroll that ended at a rock face speckled with bushman paintings. It's amazing to walk right up to the wall and touch the rock that was carefully decorated centuries ago. A place like that elsewhere in the world would be roped off, swarming with tourists and cameras, and include an admittance fee. Here we were the only people around and graffiti is mixed in with the older art, sometimes covering it or altering it. The setting was beautiful as the face was over hung in a dome-style fashion providing shelter for herd boys and their cattle in the winter months.

Probably the most helpful part of the retreat was the five of us sitting down and talking about our challenges with and observations about working as a PCV in Lesotho. Sometimes these conversations can be really negative, but ours was more constructive and refreshing than most. Rather than getting upset and overwhelmed, I felt relieved and focused when we left on Friday. This experience is an amazing one - even on the days when I curl up on my bed and wish I could be magically teleported home - and I am so fortunate to be gaining the knowledge and perspective of life here in Lesotho. It's tough and heartbreaking and frustrating to the point of tears but it's infinitely rewarding, too. Talking with other permies about what we experience as Americans - and as women - was fantastic. Yes, there are so many people who can only manage to take care of themselves and no one else; yes, foreign aid has dramatically altered this culture; yes, getting respect is nearly impossible. But there are people who care about their fellow countrymen, there are those who are honest about wanting to work with us, and if all we can do is be strong as women and show others that we deserve respect then maybe a few people will look up and notice.

... Happy St. Patrick's Day!