Visiting the Bytown Orphanage

In 2008, my volunteer project was to live at and help the Sisters and children at the Bytown Orphanage near the capital city of Maseru. The

Centre has 63 children , sometimes more if there is an emergency admission. Help Lesotho does not have any other centres for OVC (Orphans and Vulnerable Children ) under it’s auspices. My last priority for 2011 was to go there and visit the children and help the nuns learn to administer their web site.

I left Leribe and the construction related projects I had been so immersed in on Wed the 19th, had a lovely drive to Maseru with Andy McDougall, a volunteer with GROW. He is from Guelph, also on his third trip here, having fallen in love with Lesotho, as so many do….we all agree it makes you a different person to have been here, hard to explain at home. All the volunteers wrestle with it, the two worlds, the reverse culture shock on going home often the harder transition. In any case, I enjoyed the visual experience of travelling through the lush post- torrentially green countryside and seeing the exotic scattered villages and busy,dirty roadside towns as we traveled down…..humans of all descriptions and herd boys and their cows everywhere.

I arrived early afternoon at my old home, the Bytown compound. The familiar sights, the two Jersey cows, the welcoming staff. No children yet home from school. I was able to stay in the rondavel for the three nights, guests of a Slovakian brother and sister who are there to assist in setting up another orphanage.Although the HIV rate is going down, the number of orphans is still going up. They are working with Bratislava University and have also worked in Sudan and Cambodia. So many interesting people out there in the world.

Income from renting the rondavel is important to Sr Margaret.If I had not been able to stay there, I was willing to stay with the staff or the nuns, as leaving the premises for a hotel or guest house at night would have been unsafe and made my visit impossible.

When there, I worked on getting all the children to write their sponsors and also updated all their photos for Help Lesotho. Time was short and we also had other business, such as discussing priorities for funding- several sponsors having dropped out created a shortfall of funds- especially hard right now as each child has a list of soft and hard cover books needed for the school year just starting. Sr. Margaret is under pressure all the time, and still heavily reliant on the free bread and other food they can beg on a regular basis.

Writing to their sponsors

Dramas occur daily at the Orphanage. When I was there five children , all teenagers, were brought in by a Social Services Department. They had been part of a child trafficking ring, where ten children had been taken from an orphanage and five were already “gone”. The remaining five- two boys and three girls -were found at a man’s house outside Maseru and brought to Sr. Margaret as an emergency, though she is technically already overly full. The man had brainwashed the girls and given them transport money, and before the day was over they had fled and gone back to him. The boys decided to remain and try to go to school. We were all watching over them, reserved and distrustful, yet somehow still children.

The second night I was there, I had to do a BINGO…it was all the kids seemed to want from me (except photos) I went to Maseru and got watermelon and prizes….it was all over with in half an hour, but I managed to pull off my signature activities !

A Bingo prize

I had to do a little vet work when I was there, looked at several sad mangy piglets and was taken off to the vet with one of them in a bag to get a diagnosis of mange ( which I suspected, really!) Always a slice….they had a new long acting Ivermectin type product wed don’t have though (Intervet, Abramycin. Just before I got too much on a high horse, I learned something from the vet .) Suspension of ego is always the best policy.

Some recent photo's

Getting Better!

I just wanted to let you know that the medication is helping and she is getter better!! What a wonderful relief!

High School Girls in a Hostel

Last week, I was trying to find a sponsored child that I knew, a friend’s child, to get photos of her and give a small present. She goes to Molapo High School, one of our biggest, and very near where I live. Walking home yesterday, I saw Jacobina- lovely and always helpful at the Camp. I asked where I might find the girl, and she said she had been sick and not going to class. It seemed she had a painful, swollen neck. She thought she knew where she was living.

Today, Sunday, we set out to find her. Jacobina thought she was staying in a hostel, these are motel like buildings made from concrete blocks, commonly built by families here to rent to students to supplement their incomes.Peg warned me that they are bad, more like a hovel than a hostel, another fact of life for kids that have to come to town from the villages to go to High School. Fairly warned, I headed out with my 16 yr old friend, crossing the swampy fields and washed out dongas.

After a 20 minute trek, we found the place. A long concrete rectangle, with four windows and four battered wooden doors on each side. She was apparently living on the far side. As I rounded the corner, I almost caused a BoM’e (lady) sitting there to fall off her stool, a white apparition in white pants and a yellow top, so far from her normal place. Indeed, we were signalled to the right door.

Inside, there were two bunk beds against the right hand wall. Around the perimeter were pots and pans and small oil stoves.There were neatly piled clothes on the beds, no chairs or table to be seen, and no water or electricity.

A dirty old oilskin covered the floor.How do they study? How do they get to school on time and clean? The three other girls scampered out giggling, but the girl in question seemed to recognize me from our meeting three years before. They were all just beyond childhood, around 15, and far from home with no adults to watch over them.

Her neck was terribly swollen on the left side below her ear and she said it was getting worse, and very painful. She could not afford a doctor. She was having trouble eating and turning her head. Pretty sure it was an abscess related to tonsillitis or strep throat, I asked her to meet me tomorrow and get Ibuprofen and antibiotics from me. I am worried it is a retropharyngeal infection and may need to be lanced. I am worried about a lot for her, including the possibility of an anaesthetic. She will pick up my antibiotics and painkillers tomorrow, half of each twice daily- what if she has a reaction to them? I will be gone.

I got back to a dinner party at our place just in time for the burritos. I cant stop thinking about her over there, in the dark,long after my guests have gone home. Is it enough, what I have done, just to try or to care?

No water again today, despite the crazy rain flooding the roads and fields.

People here wonder if God is angry with them.

About the New Centre

The Graff Leadership Centre was donated to Help Lesotho and the people of Lesotho by Lawrence Graff, of  London England. He and the King of Lesotho attended the Grand Opening one year ago. The concept and the building are extraordinarily ambitious. The building is almost finished, one year overtime, and is unlike anything in the area, or perhaps the country. Using new materials such as vinyl siding inside and out, it is not traditional in any way, a fact that makes founder Peg Herbert a little uncomfortable, as does the size. “When it is full of people and activities, it will come alive.We are on the way to filling it up, having had 36 teenagers move in there to start school this week.Eventually we will have meetings, Grandmother Days, sports and events for out- of -school youth there.

Becoming guardians and mothers for several dozen represents a huge responsibility for Thusa Lesotho. The staff on the ground are 3 house mothers and an office full of related and concerned staff. Different staff administer the Grandmother, Education and Sponsored Children Programs. There are offices for all in the smaller Support Building beside the Leadership Centre. Peg Herbert is in the business of developing youth, talent and leadership. She often say it’s not as easy to attract people to this program stream as it is to children and Grandmother Programs. Interesting…..



Lucy helping with creative writing



The two years already invested in these girls leading up to the big day of arrival at what must seem like boarding school has identified them as good scholars and potential leaders. Their mothers or relatives were glowing with pride as they left them there with luggage and wash basins last weekend. Their grasp of English and superior academic level became evident to me when I watched Lucy VanOldenbaarneveld of CBC Ottawa give the girls a seminar on creative writing. The girls were participating and enthusiastic about the concepts she was teaching, such as the benefit of journaling. On the weekend, they created chaos in the shower room with water every where. A plan must be put into place to control all this….many of these kids have never had access to a shower or gone up stairs. Back to the washing clothes outside !

The biggest challenge is to keep them real. It will be perception in the community that they are entitled and there may be a backlash against them. They have to keep learning and using all their important traditional skills such as cooking and doing their share of cleaning as well as their own laundry. To proceed in any other way would be a disaster early on. Hopefully we can also introduce a few new non-gender based skills such carpentry as well, practicing what we preach. But how great to see them outside on Friday night playing hopscotch , singing and dancing on the new cement game pad. The Centre is truly coming alive.

Next, all those shower rods and clothes hooks to put up- and where to find the shower curtains ? Another trip across the border to South Africa I guess for the never ending and difficult-to-find supplies. The end, however, is in sight.

Grandmother Visit



Helping to figure out the strengths of glasses needed



The Grandmother lead at Help Lesotho administers the Grandmother Program- helping 200 grannies caring for orphans for two years. During this time, the women receive education about HIV and how to care for their orphaned grandchildren, and food, seeds and fellowship at monthly meetings. They are then phased out and 50 more from each of the four districts we serve are taken on. The lead, M’e MaKatleho, took Lucy and I on an outing to meet the Grandmothers in Leribe District and hear their stories.\It was akk I had hoped it would be, and more.

One grandmother had mistaken the invitation for a meeting in tow and walekd the two hours to the office. She was driven with us back to her village, or at least as far as a car could go. We travelled the rest of the way on foot, children following in our wake. The scenery was primitive, the worn down mountains and rondavels baking under the hot clear sky.Eight Grannies from several villages had been called to meet us. They ululated happily and spontaneously throughout the meeting -the strange haunting vocal offering show how pleased they were to have guests. One by one, they told their stories in Sesotho and M’e translated.

Each lady had lost several adult children and was raising their orphans. There were two men left in the villages to help. One woman was raising 8 children. None had any significant income, except the old age pension of 50 Cdn a month and what they could raise from making crafts or homemade beer. All had orphans that could not continue school after Primary as they could not pay their tuition for High School.

The most important part of their story around HL was to say that through the Program they had learned so much about HIV they could teach others in their villages and no longer thought they were being hexed. This helped bring the villages back together. Secondly, they got advice about how to handle the children- admitting that they were grieving for their own children and pushing the orphans away and being harsh with them. They had come to accept through the support and with the passage of time that this was Gods will and were learning to embrace the children.

The women brought their crafts and we bought some pottery. I had a “moment” when the lady with the most grandchildren put her bead work necklace around my neck. We sat admiring one another throughout the meeting. At the end, we gave out the donated glasses I had received and calculated the magnification each woman needed. Then we sang some more. The meeting was finished off by walking to an especially nice garden, complete with a raised keyhole garden built full of perfect spinach.


Grannies showing off their brand new glasses



The day also included a visit to a Grandmother near town who was caring for 5 orphans, one a 16 year old girl suffering form Cerebral Palsy. She cares for her in a tiny rondavel, doing all the lifting and cleaning herself. The girl is emaciated, but clean and has no pressure sores. The Grandmother had a larger rondavel, fixed up by HL, but she gave it to her son and family, moving the 6 in her family into this tiny smokey one as it was warmer. To see her situation and realize what her daily life must be like was more than sobering. All the clothes, bedding, pots and sleeping space for 6 are in a 15 foot radius. To be in this home as a visitor was a humbling experience.

We could have easily stayed out all day. I understood why Granny days are the favourite for everyone. These women are so deprived, but yet don’t seem so- in fact they were dignified and gracious, spiritually replete and full of songs and dance !

Nothing is easy….

Lets take washing your clothes. I do 5 or 6 loads of laundry every weekend for the week ahead, all in one day. Sometimes I’m too lazy to fold it .

Washing your clothes here might be like this:

You shake out the bedding hoping to see no bed bugs
The house doesn’t have water for hours at a time, especially when you have time to wash yourself or your things.
The electricity goes off as well, especially with the frequent storms
When the water comes on it may be brown
No problem, there’s a rain barrel- you can always flush!
You wash by hand, but can never really rinse well
You hang up the clothes on the fence
A torrent of rain comes again when they are almost dry
Finally you remake your bed and wear the newly clean clothes-
Looking completely foolish because they are a mess of wrinkles and everyone here is turned out much better.
I develop an new appreciation for my washer and dryer





Trying to get an email out might be like this:

You go to the Internet Café up town at the Post Office
Walking up hill for a bit in the heat, and getting rained on
The Café is closed
You go again, and the Café is open, but the Internet is down
All across Leribe district
No problem, you go again the next day, it’s still down, but hoping, you try the 4 other Internet cafes- also down. An hour wasted.
The third day and tenth try, the café is open, but the computers don’t work
Not to be daunted, you try again the next day, and get a virus on your flash
While sending the photos and articles for your blog
Thankfully it is caught and screened back at the office.
No one at home receives the mail.
I develop a new appreciation for my computers at home, even dial up

And so it goes !


My Key Duty

I have been working with the keys for the Centres non stop
It is a huge job, and I am seeing keys in my sleep
I have sorted and devised innumerable schemes
Created Master logs and Master files, key sign out sheets
Labelled key rings, split and copied keys for 8 burglar bars
Lost keys and re found them
Failing key rings, we use pipe cleaners to disburse them
I hope to leave before disaster strikes.

When It All Becomes Real

Yesterday afternoon I was at the old office, down in the steamy gully, crowded together, all tired from Camp. I had been to the Internet Café three times and all over town, no luck- the Internet was down throughout Leribe District. I had spent 4 hours in the morning at the new Centre getting keys organized, hundreds of them, logging them, labelling them, hanging them on pipe cleaners and coming up with a sign out system. Peg said that was on top of tens of hours on their part developing the flow and lock patterns for staff.

Something I had never thought about.

A really beautiful young girl came to the Office and signalled that she wanted to talk and I would be o.k. I had seen her at the Camp, always bright and well dressed, really the type we hope will rise and become a leader – good English, respectful, smart. She is in the calendar this year, first page , at the left. A very noticeable person in the melee. Peg says the clothes she wore are the same good clothes she has worn the last two years.

Keithumetse, beloved sponsored girl of a friend of Pegs. Eighteen years old.
Her story was not unique, but it was one of my most touching and saddest moments in Lesotho so far when she confided in me. What a difficult job the people here have, trying to follow rules with no exception, listening to these life stories every day.

This lovely teenager said she had failed Form D, Grade 11. She said she knew she was bright and had never failed. She did not go and get her results before the Leadership Camp because she knew it was most likely bad news, and she didn’t want to ruin the Camp. Her words all came out with tears streaming down her face. I can’t really get it across in writing.

Her Mother died a few years ago and she never knew her father. She lives with an aged and infirm Grandmother and a 13 year old boy, the son of her Mother’s sister. He doesn’t respect her or her Grandmother. They have no food, and the two kids usually only eat once a day, at school. She worries constantly about her Grandmother, alone at home and hungry. They usually only have pap in the house, never any fruit or protein. She had gained weight at the Camp. Occasionally, another aunt sends them money for food from Maseru, or visits and brings food about every 4 months or so.

My Friend Julia



My friend Julia


I had wanted to get in touch with Julia DiKhalma, a teacher from Thaba Tseka, to see if she was coming to the Camp. She was my wonderful sister, the lady who took me riding in the mountains of that remote village five hours from Leribe when we visited sponsored children in 2008. I failed to get in touch with her before I left Canada. When she walked into the Camp, we were both happy beyond words to see each other. I had to measure my reactions and time spent, as jealousy would be real and destructive overall, but I managed a couple quiet chats. I found out she has 17 people in her home and under her care and can’t retire from teaching. A son died and his wife came with their two children and two other orphans to live with Julia. The wheelbarrow I gave her a year ago to take her produce to market has been destroyed and she can’t replace it. Her husband drinks too much. Her life is hard, yet she has a magnificent spirit. The night I spent in the teacher’s dorm playing cards with them was my favourite night. Julia’s laugh fills a room, and I lost a Basotho game two times – inheriting the Joker, thereby marrying the bad man. They all concluded I would have to stay in Lesotho married to this bad man.They all fought the bedbugs and we , in our room, did not. I wish I had been able to bring a few more clothes to give her.

The next few days will bring a visit to another orphanage, one run by a local woman , accompanied by another Canadian who is working here for her second winter. Centre issues in the afternoon. I will work with the Sponsored Child lead, M’e Mampaka, and a Canadian intern, Alison, for the week getting the kids outfitted and back to school. Thankfully, they now have vouchers and so we just have to hand out and keep tracks of these, not buy 250 pairs of shoes, 250 uniforms etc.

I hope to see a grandmother visit, probably in a remore village, this week soemtime and go to the Orphanage in Maseru next week. I will try to get another letter out next Monday or so. It will be a very short visit.
The gifts, craft supplies , glasses et al very appreciated and well used.Thanks
Thinking of everyone at home and wondering what you would all think if you could be here in my shoes.

Happy New Year.

The Big Story Was Mine

Day three of the Camp, dinner over- we had the first Talent Show. It is at night, under a big ratty tent, with rain dripping through the seams, and one small light. It was a small fluorescent camp light. You still couldn’t see any of the performer’s faces.The kids were reluctant to come up this year. Lots of silliness and a few bad dancers. At last a good dancer- we had a computer with a scratch mode, hip hop and dance tracks- We were all clapping, enjoying the moment. My purse was in the craft area hidden in a closet where it had been all day. Lots of other workers had purses and valuables stashed around the MASH unit office and the craft area that doubles as the teachers dining hall. There were adults in and out of there all the time.

The next day I walked down to the business area to the bank to get money. When I got to the bank machine my wallet was gone…. Cards, driver’s license, OHIP card, 200 rand (only 15.00), travellers insurance etc. what an anxious moment, and a pain in the ass. By the time I had walked back to the Camp, I had calmed down. I had my passport hidden at our house and a second VISA card, I could get by and get home. Whoever did it was incredibly poor and could be forgiven, at least by me. I almost decided not to say anything. But it is a Camp for leaders and Peg wants them to be trustworthy, and it would have been a huge issue for her- so I spilled the beans. An announcement was made to the group.

Did I mention 4 boys had remained at the School for the Deaf over Christmas. Four boys with no families who were around the fringes of the Camp and getting some of the treats and a bit of attention between their

Chores, which included digging up a muddy field.

A day and half later, 10 p.m., M’e MaHlompho visited me in my room. “I think we have found the culprits” she said.Two of the bigger deaf boys were seen in the field wearing the tall, white gumboots the herd boys wear. They could never have afforded them and told her that a brother of one had visited and left money. No brother had been seen. I was more intrigued by the total

naivety of their actions than I was optimistic that my stuff would be returned. M’e was going to call in the Police early in the a.m. She also called in the Matron of the School to do the sign language interrogation.

Beautiful little Murai

M’e had seen the boys sitting near me at the Talent Show and also had seen them going in and out of the Craft area. We all called her the detective, a potential C.S.I., to her great amusement. And indeed, she had solved the case. After a brutal interrogation for an hour, which I had to witness, all the while wishing I could actually give them the boots, one of the boys caved. A trip their bedroom with the beautiful little Murai, the youngest deaf boy, yielded my cards – all of them- hidden amongst their clothing. It was unbelieveable, all back in my wallet except 200 rand. I have asked the Police for the boots back for the Centre.

Tlalane, my little sponsored girl cried when she heard I had been robbed. Most Basotho are humiliated when a guest is insulted, hurt, or harmed.A great shout when up when it was announced that all had been found. I have not had my purse off my shoulder since that day.