Blog - Page 12 of 143 - Sonia Marsh

Recycling Trash to Toys

September 4, 2016 by Sonia Marsh 10 Comments

Twice a week, I burn my trash in a small pit outside my rondavel.

Tremendous guilt sets in the minute I strike the match, realizing that I’m contributing towards global warming. Each time, I’m surprised to see how easy it is to burn plastic bags and Styrofoam packaging trays. The fact that this is a big, “No-No” in many parts of the western world, with strict recycling laws, adds to my sense of wrongdoing.

The problem is, I have more trash than the Basotho because I buy mushrooms, zucchini, broccoli, and cauliflower, imported from South Africa, and packaged in Styrofoam trays. These vegetables are not part of the Basotho diet in my rural village.

When I first posted photos of my “Lack of Privacy” in my village, and how everyone is interested in what I’m burning, my author friend, Ian Mathie, mentioned letting my students figure out what the children can make from my “trash.”

I procrastinated for several reasons:

I wanted to collect enough items of the same kind, for example, 16 Styrofoam trays or milk cartons, so everyone would be working on that same item. It would take me forever to eat 16 trays of mushrooms.
I didn’t want to use my own data to pull up step by step ideas from the Internet, and my Principal, didn’t want to offer to pay. “There’s no money,” she would say.
I didn’t have enough ideas to make something without the right supplies for that project.

Then, last week, I’d collected a huge plastic bag full of many recyclable items, and carried it to my Grade 5 students.

When I opened the bag, and displayed all the objects on the table, the kids went crazy. They wanted those empty yoghurt cartons, empty toothpaste boxes, and fought over them, as though I’d offered them brand new toys.

My 5th grade students have picked out the trash items they wanted.

I told them to take the items home, and to bring them back the next day, with their “creations.”

Honestly, I felt relieved to get rid of my waste, and not have to burn it, but did not expect them to make anything from it.

The following morning, the children were so excited to show me their creations, and I was blown away. I did not realize the kids could be so creative with recycling trash to toys.

I had underestimated my 5th grade Basotho students ability to come up with something, but when you can’t afford toys, it’s amazing what you can make from “trash.”

Online Dating: My Coping Mechanism for Boredom

August 28, 2016 by Sonia Marsh 11 Comments

The Peace Corps warned us that boredom and loneliness may cause a problem at times, and asked us to think of some coping mechanisms. I came up with a new one: online dating.

My days are busy with teaching, but evenings and weekends can become quite lonely, and boring in my rural village in Lesotho. It’s quite common for Peace Corps Volunteers (PCVs) to get depressed between months six to nine of service. We were shown a graph depicting the highs and lows experienced by PCVs during our ten-week training session.

Apart from spending time with my “host mother” and other activities such as lesson planning, writing my blog, reading, e-mailing, talking to family and friends on WhatsApp, knitting, drawing, walking, cooking, cleaning and hand-washing my clothes, I’ve added online dating as another form of entertainment.

The winter months can be brutal here in “The Mountain Kingdom,” where the sun sets at 5:20 p.m., and there is no heating, so I snuggle up in my sleeping bag and prop my laptop on top of my pillow, making sure the battery is fully charged.

I’m a realist knowing that my online dating will stay online. What man would seriously consider flying all the way to Lesotho to my rondavel out in the boonies? In a sense I’m not dating but simply “networking.”

So how can online dating be entertaining? If you’ve never tried it, let me share some of my experiences, and warn you about potential scammers.

“With 54 million single people in the U.S. 49 million have tried online dating, that’s 90% according to statisticbrain.com.”

Since I’m cheap, especially on my PC stipend of $150/month, I refuse to pay for online dating services, until I move to a country where I can actually meet someone in person. So I’ve joined free sites, and hope that I might be lucky enough to find a man who means what he says.

From my collection of e-mails, a striking pattern has emerged. Apart from that one man who said, “I’ll commit suicide right now if you don’t tell me why you’re not interested in me,” the other men all claim to be engineers, military guys, and quite shockingly, they all seem to have lost their wife to cancer, or a car accident.

At first, I felt sorry for them, but after receiving similar stories, I realized they were scammers preying on women who might fall for their sob-stories.

I compared notes with another PCV in Lesotho, my age, who is also online dating, and she said these men post photos of handsome men, who are not them, and after a while, ask you to send money. (Might that be a new version of the infamous Nigerian scammers?) They make up some excuse like their son or daughter needs surgery, or they lost their business. This has not happened to me yet. I usually quit writing immediately. So now when I receive a FB friend request from a man who says:

“Hi Sonia , how are you doing ? thanks for accepting, I do really appreciate , can we get to know each other better if you don’t mind? my name is A …” (My reply.)

“We can, as long as you don’t tell me that your wife died and that you are lonely. I ‘ve received at least ten messages from military men and engineers who state the same thing.”

When they don’t respond, I know they were like the others I received.

I joined a travel dating site, as I’d like to have a male travel companion to tour Africa, and noted that many of them are over 75. I’m sorry, they may be great men, but I want someone closer to my age for travel and adventure.

Some guys can be quite funny:

“Hi Sonia, how are you ? I like your comments & would like to travel with you ! How can we do this, shall I approach it like a job application ? HaHa please see my profile & CV / Referees on linkedin . LOL G.”

I’m not a professional editor or proof reader, and admit that I make mistakes in my writing, however, dating scammers seem to have:

Bad grammar, (especially when the person tells you that he has a Masters degree, and attended a private high school in Monaco.)
Use lower case (i)
Use run-on sentences
Do not indent their paragraphs
Offer false information like, “I own a diamond mine in Botswana.”

I won’t give-up. I am human after all, and know that one day, I’ll find the “right” male companion, whether online, or in-person.

In the meantime, I might just continue online dating for entertainment, although now I have a new focus which you’ll hear more about next Sunday: My Community Development Project, and how I’m pushing it along.

Do you have any similar online dating experiences? If so, please share them.

When to Give Money and When Not To

August 21, 2016 by Sonia Marsh 10 Comments

One of the challenges I face while serving as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Lesotho, Africa, is when to give money and when not to. My views on this matter are constantly changing based on what I’ve learned during the last ten months.

Today I was put in a difficult situation. My host mother, Mary, whom I truly care for, asked me to visit her “sister.” Since Mary calls everyone in my village her “sister,” including me, I’m never sure who is a blood relative, and who isn’t.

This poor lady is 76-years-old, and due to the heavy rainstorm we had two days ago, the interior part of her wall fell onto her mattress.

She started crying, saying “Mathata, mathata,” (problem, problem) as I stood there not knowing what to say, except that she was fortunate it happened during the daytime, rather than at night. Even Mary said it would have crushed her ribs, had she been sleeping.

old lady wall collapsed — stone wall collapsed onto her mattress

Since I’m already involved with a community development project: to fix the roof and wire the school in my village through the Peace Corps Partnership Program (PCPP), I get the impression my village believes I’m going to fix their houses as well.

What is frustrating is that I would like to help, but as a Peace Corps volunteer, we are not expected to “give” handouts. We are here to work on sustainable projects where the community participates by offering 25% of the cost, either through funding, or through their time and effort.

I felt guilty when I left this old lady’s house, so I tried to think of other options. I asked Mary why the young people in our village—most of whom don’t work or go to school—don’t help rebuild this lady’s wall.

“They want money,” she replies.

“But they’re not doing anything all day except sitting outside and watching people go by.”

“Yes, but they don’t want to work,” she replies.

I admit to being surprised since I see the older people in my community supporting one another.

“Does she have children who can help her?” I ask.

“Yes, but they don’t have jobs,” she replies.

“So why can’t they come out and help their mother?”

“They cannot afford a taxi to come out.”

“Can’t they hitchhike, or ask a friend to drive them who has a car?”

Mary shrugs.

I’m almost certain I was taken to the lady’s house to give money. This happens to me quite frequently and I have trouble understanding the conflicting messages I hear from the Basotho.

I’ve been told not to help. “Why?” I asked.

“Because once you help one person, the whole village will gossip, and then they want you to help everyone. It’s because of the color of your skin.”

I remember when Mary told me not to feed the orphan in my village who was begging. “If you feed him, you’ll have all the children asking for food.”

So during my ten months in Lesotho, I’ve followed the advice given to me by my host mother, even in the case of this poor lady. I’ve learned the harsh reality that it’s impossible to help everyone.

My Community Development Project in Lesotho

August 14, 2016 by Sonia Marsh 8 Comments

grade 5 ceiling better — Collapsed grade 5 ceiling at my School in Lesotho

After ten months in Lesotho, I’ve finally figured out a community development project that the principal, teachers and parents at my rural school, show positive signs of being invested in.

My original project of starting a community center took a 180 degree turn following the heavy snows we experienced in July. After several days of continuous snowfall, the frosted pine trees started sagging, causing the loaded branches to snap onto the corrugated tin roof of my school. Imagine my 5^th grade students’ faces when they arrived at school on August 1^st, the first day of the new quarter, and discovered they no longer had a classroom. My thought was: How and where am I going to teach my kids?

I was given the hall to teach, but it’s next to the outdoor kitchen, where the papa is cooked on a wood burning stove for several hours, and the smoke enters the hall through the broken window panes, facing the kitchen.

Side view of Smoke from kitchen next to grade 5 closer — The outdoor kitchen. Smoke enters the building where I teach grade 5, on the right of the picture.

My eyes sting as I’m not used to smoke. The children cook this way at home, but are also complaining about the smoke in our classroom.

We put the blackboard up against the window to block the smoke. It still enters through the top of the window.

The snow also damaged village priest’s building next to my school. He kept his sheep inside, and they died when the roof collapsed. The community skinned the sheep and dried the hides on his roof.

Roof destroyed on building — Snow caused the roof to collapse on the Priest’s building where he was sheltering his sheep from the cold. They all died.

sheep skins drying on roof — Sheep skin drying on priest’s roof.

Everything takes forever to fix when you live in a rural village in Lesotho. There is no “Home Depot” or small hardware store, let alone skilled labor in my village. That’s not surprising, as there isn’t even a store to buy fresh vegetables, fruits or meat, unless you drive to the closest town: an hour by public transport.

The second problem, which I’m used to hearing at my school in Lesotho is: “There’s no money.”

I decided to prioritize the rebuilding of the classroom, and to add another pressing need I’m excited to share with you as the students are eager to learn this important skill.

The community wants to wire the entire school now that our village has electricity.

Only the staff room is wired for electricity at my school. It’s about time that all the classrooms get electricity. In winter, we have to keep the doors open to get sufficient light to see the blackboard. Icy winds blow inside the classroom, and both the teachers and a few students who can afford it, are wrapped from head to toe in the traditional Basotho blankets.

The Minister of Energy donated four computers and a printer to our school when the electricity was officially turned on. I haven’t been able to set them up. Why?

1). They’re locked up in the principal’s convent.

2). We don’t have burglar bars installed on the windows so they might get stolen.

3). We don’t have electricity in the classrooms; only the staff room.

Computers from Minister-3 — 7th grade students showing off the new computers, printer and monitors , donated by the Minister of Energy.

We just received the new curriculum from the Ministry of Education, and teaching students how to use a computer is now on the syllabus. There are no more excuses for not removing the computers from the convent, where they are collecting dust.

If I can raise enough money, the principal and teachers would also like to have linoleum floors installed on the broken concrete slabs in the classrooms. Only the staff room and grade 7 have linoleum floors, but all the other classrooms have these ugly, cracked, cold floors.

One of the key components to the success and sustainability of a community development project is to:

Form a community committee with specific roles for volunteers
Ask for community contribution, not necessarily in cash, but in preparing lunch for the workers, painting the classroom, offering any skills they may have
Try to get the community to help with transportation of supplies and labor

After my counterpart, the principal and I put together a community committee to determine the goals and objectives, receive quotes for the repairs, costs of materials, supplies and equipment, and all has been approved by the Peace Corps, I am going to accept donations for my school, through the Peace Corps website.

I hope you will be able to help make this community development project a success, and promise to do my utmost to speed things up, and give the kids a better learning environment.

I will keep you updated once everything is approved, and we can start the community development project. Please be patient, (something I’m still learning) everything takes time here. Please share my post if you know someone who might like to help with my community development project.

My First Basotho Funeral

August 7, 2016 by Sonia Marsh 3 Comments

The traditional Basotho blankets — Mary and Sonia in their traditional Basotho Blankets

It’s very sad but there seems to be at least one funeral every Saturday in my village in Lesotho, Africa, and I experienced my first Basotho funeral yesterday.

My counterpart, the 7^th grade teacher at my school, lost her husband to TB. He was only 37.

Funerals are important community events in Lesotho, and I’ve become aware of the multiple billboards in the capital city, as well as the ads on local television for funeral insurance.

It seems that even the poor, spend at least 10,000 Rand, or $700 on a funeral, and that is a ton of money for a family that cannot feed itself. I admit, I’m not familiar with the details, however, my first Basotho funeral, was elaborate, with numerous priests, a choir, and a brass band.

Mary, my host “mother,” wanted me to wear the traditional Basotho blanket, and I’m glad I did, as it was important to fit into the community.

Numerous tents were set up in the compound where my teacher and her mother-in-law live, and women were busy breaking twigs to keep the fire going under the cast iron pots. They prepared a traditional meal of beef, samp (like hominy), rice, carrots and beetroots, to feed everyone after the service.

Lines of buses and cars flocked the dirt road, and Mary and I arrived a little late, at 10:30. The grieving wife and mother-in-law, sat on a mattress, next to the coffin, and at one point, the wife covered her entire body and face with the blanket.

When she spotted me, she gestured for me to come and sit next to her on the mattress. I was embarrassed, as I had to walk in front of the entire congregation, including the choir and the priests to reach her.

“Can you please take photos of the coffin and my husband’s photo,” she said. “I do not have a camera.”

Her husband’s framed photo sat on top of the casket, with a bouquet of artificial flowers propped up next to his picture.

I did what she requested, but being the only white person in the entire congregation, I felt conspicuous, especially acting like a paparazzi standing in front of the coffin.

A man distributed the folded program listing the names of the speakers at this Basotho funeral, and I had no idea this would be an all-day event.

The choir sang intermittently while the brass band played, and everyone stood, swaying to the music. I watched my teacher in tears, and it seemed more like a festive celebration for the attendees, while she sat, distant and numb, in her own thoughts.

Click here to listen to choir singing.

After everyone had spoken, we followed the pallbearers up the hill where the casket was laid to rest in the ground. Two beautiful marble headstones were unveiled, while mourners sobbed at the graveside.

“Let’s go home,” Mary said.

I was expecting us to go back to my rondavel, but then Mary said, “We need to wash our hands.”

She led me back to the tent where the food was displayed in various oversized plastic bowls.

“Follow me. We have to wash our hands first,” Mary said.

She showed me what to do. I had to bend over a plastic tub, scoop cold water into my cupped hands and throw the water onto the dirt, so as not to contaminate the water in the bowl.

With wet hands, we proceeded to get a plate of food.

Mary was proud of me wearing her blanket, as her friends complimented her on the way I looked. It means so much to the Basotho when you wear the same as them.

The funeral ended around 4:30 p.m., when the choir ladies boarded the bus, and the brass band, priests and local chief, headed home. I asked Mary if this was a traditional Basotho funeral, and she said yes, apart from the brass band. That was different.

I cannot imagine attending a funeral every Saturday, however, when I ask the teachers at my school how they are spending the weekend, I often get the following response, “I’m going to a funeral.”