People Archives - Page 6 of 107 - Sonia Marsh

Please Help Me Raise $5,000 to Make My School Safe

October 13, 2016 by Sonia Marsh 2 Comments

I need your help to raise $5,000 to improve the safety and education of students at my rural school in Lesotho, Africa.

CLICK HERE TO DONATE TO MY PROJECT IN LESOTHO

(Scroll Down Until You Reach S. Marsh)

All donations are sent through the Peace Corps and are

TAX DEDUCTIBLE DONATION

Your donations will go through the Peace Corps Partnership Program funds website.

My community has agreed upon the following 3 priorities to help our school.

compound-noun-classroom-working — Collapsed ceiling in Grade 5

1). Make a safe classroom environment for 5th grade students.

Half the roof and ceiling collapsed in July, due to the unusually heavy snow storm, and I’m worried about our safety.

2). Electrical wiring of all classrooms to teach computer skills.

My village now has electricity, however, the classrooms have not been wired due to a lack of funds. Since we received four desktop computers from the Minister of Energy, the teachers and students would like to learn how to use them.

Cracks on cold cement floors in classrooms

3). Install vinyl tiles on the floors in all classrooms.

Only the staff room and grade 7 have vinyl floor tiles, all other classrooms have cracked, cement floors which are icy-cold in the winter, and hazardous throughout.

I’d like your help to raise $5,000 and get the work completed by November 30^th, 2016, before the Christmas holidays.

CLICK HERE TO DONATE TO MY PROJECT IN LESOTHO

(Scroll Down Until You Reach S. Marsh)

All donations are sent through the Peace Corps and are

TAX DEDUCTIBLE DONATION

PLEASE SHARE WITH OTHERS WHO MAY BE INTERESTED IN HELPING.

The children, teachers, community (AND ME) are all extremely grateful to you for helping us make the school a better place.

I shall post updates and photos once we receive the funds, and start the 3 phases of the project.

You can also follow our progress on my FaceBook if you’d like.

THANK YOU SO MUCH.

Sonia

Is Medication Overprescribed in Lesotho?

September 18, 2016 by Sonia Marsh 7 Comments

After living in Lesotho for almost a year, I have experienced two cases of overprescribed medication and agree with the results of a new study that shows that:

“Doctors in sub-Sahara Africa generally prescribe more drugs than the number recommended by the World Health Organization.” published in the BMC Public Health Journal,

I have experienced two cases of individuals who were given 4-5 medications, and one injection for:

1). A cold

The seventeen-year-old daughter of my host family during Peace Corps training woke up with a cough, and what appeared to me to be the common cold. She did not want to miss school so on her way, she stopped at one of the new clinics built by American donor funding, and was given five plastic bags of different medications, including an antibiotic, plus one injection.

The following day, I asked her if she felt better, and she said, “No.”

I asked her if she saw a doctor, and she replied, “There are no doctors at the clinic.”

2). Allergies/Hay fever

A fourteen-year-old girl at my school could not keep her eyes open during my English class. She said she had allergies and both eyes were swollen with tears streaming down her cheeks. She used her sleeve to wipe them away.

I could tell she was in pain, and asked if she had medicine to take.

“Yes, teacher,” she said. “The clinic gave me an injection and four medicines.”

“Aren’t they helping?”

“No teacher.”

“Come with me and I’ll give you some drops to clean your eyes.”

“Thank you teacher.”

She told me she lived with her grandma, and as I held onto her elbow so she wouldn’t trip over the rocks, I wondered if she was an orphan.

“Here put on my sunglasses.”

She could barely open her eyes, and I wasn’t sure whether to speak to her, or to remain quiet during our fifteen-minute walk home.

Inside my rondavel, I told her to lean back on my pillows so I could place a few drops of “Refresh tears” into her eyes, to flush out any pollen, or other irritant.

She didn’t seem to feel better, so I gave the special Milky Way bar I’d been saving for when I needed to give someone a treat. As with all children at my school, they rarely get candy, so she nibbled it so it would last.

She sat on my couch looking miserable. I found my Peace Corps medical kit wondering if I had any medication for allergies. I’d forgotten I had antihistamines, and was so happy to give her a few pills. She took one, trusting me completely, and after twenty minutes or so, her eyes were dry. They still hurt, but she wanted me to show her my photos on my laptop. I was so happy to make her feel better.

3). High blood pressure

american-built-clininc — Donor Funding by Millenium Corporation

I visited a beautiful clinic built with American donor funding. I was invited to speak to the nurses, even while they were attending to patients.

A woman needed her blood pressure checked to renew her medication, and the nurse told me:

“The blood pressure cuff doesn’t work; the batteries are dead.”

“Don’t you have a manual one?” I asked.

“No.”

At least fifteen patients lined up for their small plastic bags of pills, which are then put into a brown paper bag. When I asked my host mother if the person counting the pills was a pharmacist, she replied,

“No. She just helps.”

I listen to BBC World News daily, and on August 22^nd, 2016, (Scroll down) they talked about the study published in the BMC Public Health Journal, which stated:

“A new study has found that doctors in sub-Sahara Africa generally prescribe more drugs than the number recommended by the World Health Organization.

The study, published in the BMC Public Health Journal, reveals that a patient seeking treatment in the region is likely to be asked to take more medicine than they should ideally be given leading to misuse or overuse of drugs.

The researchers also found that half the time, one is likely to be given an antibiotic, often, without being tested.”

From the three examples I’ve come across, this is happening in Lesotho, and as far as the clinics I’ve visited, there are no doctors, only nurses, and the one time I saw the woman dispensing medication, she was not a qualified pharmacist.

This is a huge problem as far as I can see, not only in terms of a waste of “free” medication, but also dangerous to the patients, in terms of adverse effects.

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.

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.”

My Marriage Proposal in a Taxi

July 31, 2016 by Sonia Marsh 15 Comments

TAXI parked outside Mary's — A marriage proposal in a taxi like this one. Very Romantic.

Today was one of those “rare” days in Lesotho, were everything fell into place, and to top it all off, I received a marriage proposal. I’m not sure how this happened, but it might have something to do with a change in my attitude since I got back from a much-needed vacation in Paris and California. For some reason, I’m far more relaxed in Lesotho than I was before I left. Why? I’m not quite sure, but knowing that I still remember how to drive a car, that the world back home has not changed—even though mine has—that my three sons love and miss me, and that I have some amazing friends who truly care about me, has boosted my confidence in a country where I often wonder whether I’m making a difference.

So what does this have to do with the marriage proposal during my taxi ride?

Well, for the first time, I was able to communicate in English with my new taxi driver, Elliott (his English name) and John (the man who proposed to me.) Apparently my favorite taxi driver, Sheleng, crashed his taxi during my vacation, and is at home recovering from some minor injuries.

John opened the front passenger door, and scooted over when he saw me waving down the taxi on the side of the slushy, dirt “path.” He happened to be a retired primary school teacher in the next village, and I was relieved to finally engage a Mosotho in a conversation, other than the formal greetings.

Elliott started the conversation. “Do you like Eminem?”

“Yes,” I said.

“I know all the words to his songs,” he continued and proceeded to sing.

“Have you met him?” he asked.

A question that did not surprise me as previous Peace Corps Volunteers said they’ve been asked if they know Michael Jackson. Apparently he’s still alive.

John then asked me where I was from, and where my husband lives.

I told him I was divorced and he asked me why?

I told him to ask my husband, as I had no intention of getting into that discussion with this man.

“I have ten children,” he said.

“Wow! How old are they?”

“I cannot remember.”

“How old are you?” he asked.

“Fifty-eight,” I said, “Any you?”

He wouldn’t say.

“I guess you’re sixty-eight,” I told him. His face was heavily wrinkled, and he looked older, but I was trying to be polite.

When he didn’t reply, I said, “Older?”

He then told me he was younger than me: fifty-four.

“Will you marry me?” he asked.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to get married.”
“You don’t want a nice man, and to stay in Lesotho?”

“No. It takes a while to get to know someone,” I replied.

“You don’t want to live in Lesotho?” he continued.

“Have you ever traveled outside Lesotho?” I asked.

“No.”

“Come and visit me at home,” he continued.

“I don’t think so,” I said.

He would not stop, so I finally told him that I only like tall men.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I’m tall.”

That finally got John to stop asking me to marry him.

Meanwhile Elliott was laughing, and he finally said something that surprised me,

“It’s impossible to get a white person to marry you. If a Mosotho woman (person from Lesotho) is asked by a white man if she will marry him, she will not hesitate to say yes, immediately.

So this was an interesting taxi ride, and I made sure I got Elliott’s phone number, as I like the fact that we can have a conversation in English, plus he’s a much safer driver than Sheleng.